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lumosandnoxwriting · 4 years ago

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Good Girl - George Weasley

Title: Good Girl Pairing: George x female!slytherin!Reader Summary: George has been the reader’s enemy since their first year at Hogwarts together and now, in their final year the universe keeps throwing them together in ways that make the reader question why she ever hated George in the first place. Warnings: NSFW!! Slight Dom!george, begging, slight orgasm denial, thigh riding, oral (Male and female receiving), throat fucking, fingering, masturbation, unprotected sex A/N: The summary is shit but it’s an enemies to lovers slow burn. Seriously this is 22k words I lost control. This is for @those-born-to-fight who wanted some enemies to lovers with a Slytherin reader! There’s two different ~spicy~ scenes and the tiniest touch of angst towards the end. Feedback is always welcome, and requests are open!

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“God, do they ever just shut up?” Y/N grumbles, getting up to slam the door to her compartment closed. Adrian and Marcus laugh at her, but immediately stop when she glares at them, not wanting to face the consequences of annoying Y/N further.

There are very few things that Y/N outright hates. The list of things that mildly annoy her is quite long, but she reserves the word hate for only those special things that make her want to rip her hair out at the mere mention of them. Fred and George Weasley happen to be at the top of that list.

Like most students, Y/N had been enamored by the twins and their antics at first. Despite the fact that many of their practical jokes were aimed at members of her house and Snape, she found them quite funny. She had even thought about befriending the twins, the rivalry between their houses be damned. But after finding herself on the receiving end of a few too many Weasley practical jokes, she had begun to loathe them.

“I don’t know why you let them get under your skin,” Daphne comments, her tone dry and dull. Despite the fact that her eyes haven’t left the copy of Witch Weekly she’s flipping through, Y/N knows she’s been watching her fidget as the Weasley twins got rowdier and rowdier from their compartment down the hall.

“Because they’re, they’re,” Y/N pauses, trying to find the words to describe just how vile the Weasley Twins make her feel. “There isn’t even a word in the English dictionary that perfectly describes how insufferable they are.” She flips Adrian and Marcus off as they laugh at her frustration.

Daphne rolls her eyes and finally puts her magazine down. “You’re so dramatic, Y/N. Just drown them out like everyone else does. Take me, for example. I haven’t heard a thing either of them has said since third year.”

“That’s because they leave you alone, Daph,” Marcus drawls, coming to Y/N’s defense. This isn’t the first time the four of them have had this conversation and it surely will not be the last. “It’s kind of hard to ignore them when they send bludgers at you hard enough to knock your head off of your shoulders.”

“It’s pretty easy to knock someone’s head off of their shoulders when there isn’t anything in it, Marcus,” Daphne teases, pushing his shoulder lightly.

Adrian pretends to throw up at their behavior, causing Marcus to hit him over the head while Y/N laughs. Adrian ends up hitting Marcus back, and the boys hit at each other for a few moments while Daphne rolls her eyes and Y/N eggs them on.

“The contents of Marcus’s head aside,” Adrian says as he plops down next to Y/N, his breathing heavy from wresting Marcus to the ground. “He’s got a point, Daph. You’ve never actually been the victim of a Weasley prank. So, frankly your opinion doesn’t matter.”

Daphne flips Adrian off and picks her magazine up again. “I’m just saying. There are better things for Y/N to focus her attention on than those stupid Weasleys.”

“Yeah, whatever. I’d like to see you ignore them after they charm your shampoo to turn your hair neon yellow. It didn’t go back to normal for weeks!” Adrian laughs at the memory, and Y/N punches him in the thigh. “Watch yourself, Pucey or I’m gonna put yellow dye in your shampoo.”

“Trying to get in the shower with me, are you?” Adrian teases, throwing his arm over Y/N’s shoulder.

“In your dreams,” Y/N responds, picking up the book she had discarded after a particularly loud shout came from one of the Weasley twins.

She can feel Adrian chuckle as she leans into his side. “I’ll see you there.”

Y/N had almost forgotten about the Weasley twins entirely until she feels something hit her in the back of the head during dinner. She picks a piece of mashed potato out of her hair as she turns around, her eyes like daggers as she searches for the culprit. Of course, Fred and George are laughing to themselves, each of them waving at her as they make eye contact.

“Nice to see your hair back to normal, Y/N!” One of them, Fred she thinks, shouts at her.

“Yeah, I reckon if your hair had been yellow any longer you’d have to join Hufflepuff,” the other teases, causing the Gryffindors around them to laugh.

Y/N goes to stand up so she can knock the grins off of their faces, but Adrian puts his hands on her shoulders and forces her to sit back down. “It’s not worth it,” he hisses into her ear. “Not in front of all of the professors. Be smart about your revenge.”

Y/N glares at Adrian, but she relaxes, nonetheless. As much as she hates to admit it, Adrian is right. It’s only the first day back, she doesn’t need to go and get detention and lose Slytherin a bunch of points. Not yet at least.

“Hey Marcus, do me a favor and knock them off their brooms first chance you get.”

“You’re awfully cheery this morning,” Y/N comments to Daphne as they head up the stairs towards the Great Hall.

“What isn’t there to be cheery about? It’s the first day of the school year. Our last school year,” Daphne responds dreamily.

Y/N snorts in laughter, rolling her eyes at her best friend. “Ah yes. The hardest year of school yet, that certainly is something to be happy about.”

“Oh NEWTS? Who cares about those,” Daphne says casually as they enter the Great Hall and head towards the Slytherin table. “You don’t need good grades in school to be a good wife and mother.”

Y/N scoffs, choosing not to say anything. Unlike Daphne and most of the other girls in her house, she plans on actually having a career of her own. It is common for pureblood families to marry off their daughters to the sons of other pureblood families and often times the mark of a good pureblood girl wasn’t her brain, but her ability to stay silent, look pretty and boss around a house elf.

Thankfully, Y/N’s parents hadn’t raised her with the same values. They didn’t believe in the same archaic things most pureblood families did, and they had raised Y/N to have loftier ambitions than to be someone’s wife and a mother. Y/N’s father always joked that she had inherited her mother’s smart mouth, so it would be impossible for them to marry her off anyway.

“Just because you don’t care about your grades doesn’t mean the rest of us don’t. Right, guys?” Y/N asks as they sit down, looking for both Marcus and Adrian to back her up.

“Are you guys on this again?” Adrian asks, rolling his eyes. Much like Y/N’s hatred of the Weasley twins, Daphne failing to take school seriously was a frequent topic of conversation in their friend group.

“No need to get your panties in a twist, Pucey,” Y/N teases as she grabs some toast. “Daph is free to sit back and spend her last year of school doing nothing, but I on the other hand plan on actually doing good on my NEWTS. So, feel free to slack off with her, or study with me, I don’t really care.”

Marcus chuckles at Y/N’s attitude. “Damn, Y/N tell us how you really feel.”

Y/N chucks a piece of toast at Marcus’s head before she reaches for her bag. “Oh, I almost forgot, I’ve got all of your schedules.” She reaches into her bag and pulls out a small stack of papers, handing their designated paper to each friend.

“Wow, slacking on your Head Girl duties already and it’s only the first day of term,” Adrian teases with an easy smile.

Y/N flicks his ear. “You’re just jealous that you didn’t make Head Boy.”

Adrian rolls his eyes as he scans over the piece of paper. “Me? An administrative stick in the mud? I don’t think so.”

“Nah mate, you just were looking forward to spending hours alone with Y/N,” Marcus teases, causing both Y/N and Adrian to throw pieces of muffin at him.

“Moving on,” Daphne drawls, clearly tired of their antics. “What’s everyone got first lesson? I’ve got divination.”

When both Marcus and Adrian announce they have Arithmancy, Y/N frowns. “Guess I’ll be heading to Potions alone then.”

As Y/N heads down to Potions after breakfast she can feel her mood sinking. Potions is one of her favorite classes, and not just because Snape tends to favor Slytherins. She finds the art of Potions fascinating, and each lesson always tests the bounds of her knowledge. But class is always more enjoyable with her friends around.

Her mood only worsens as the Weasley Twins fall into step beside her, one on each side.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here, Georgie?” the twin on the left, who is obviously Fred, says playfully.

“Looks like little Y/N is heading to potions, Freddie,” George responds, lightly knocking into her shoulder.

Y/N stumbles on the step despite the light touch. Both Fred and George have a good six inches on her, and their time as beaters on the Gryffindor team has obviously left them both toned and muscular.

“And without her little gang of friends, what a shock,” Fred adds with a laugh as Y/N finds her balance.

“Friends? What friends?,” George teases.

When they reach the bottom of the stairs, Y/N glares at each of them. “You two dimwits are in NEWT level potions? Snape must have lowered his standards.”

“Oh Y/N how you wound us,” George gasps, clutching his chest.

Y/N rolls her eyes as they enter the Potions classroom, determined not to let the twins bother her. Daphne did have a point on the train yesterday, there were other things she needed to focus on besides the twins and their stupid games.

She takes her usual seat at the front of the classroom, expecting the twins to slink to the back of the class, far away from Snape’s prying eyes. Her fist automatically clenches when they slide into the seats directly behind her, her nostrils flaring.

This year certainly is going to be the hardest yet, and not just because of the rigorous coursework, Y/N thinks to herself as Snape begins class.

“You look, how do I put this nicely.” Marcus pauses. “Flustered.”

Y/N glares at him as she flops down next to Daphne. Potions had been an absolute disaster. She could hardly focus on her Memory Potion, too busy picking out the Jobberknoll Feathers the Weasley Twins kept putting in her hair. She had managed to make something barely acceptable, and Snape’s disappointment was evident.

“Screw off, Marcus. I just spent an hour dealing with Dimwit 1 and Dimwit 2 standing behind me doing everything in their power to piss me off. So, unless you wanna end up with your head in one of those pots and dragon dung fertilizer up to your ears, shut your mouth.”

Daphne laughs at Y/N’s outburst. “I told you just to ignore them, Y/N. Although dragon dung fertilizer up to the ears does sound like the perfect revenge plan. Not that I’m condoning letting someone, or someones, get under your skin so badly that you need revenge,” she pauses, winking at Y/N. “But if I were I think that would be the way to go.”

Before Y/N can get too lost in the thought of burying Fred and George in Dragon Dung Professor Sprout is entering the Greenhouse and starting class. But she definitely pushes the idea to the back of her mind for future consideration.

“I’m going to fling myself off the top of the astronomy tower,” Y/N announces as she collapses next to Daphne in the common room. After her short break from the Weasley Twins in Herbology, Y/N had to suffer through a double transfiguration and a charms lesson with them both sitting too close for comfort.

“Could you at least wait until it’s closer to the end of term? We could probably get an extra week off at the Christmas holiday,” Adrian says, not even bothering to look up from the Quidditch playbook in his lap.

Y/N groans, putting her head in her hands. “I need better friends, none of you are sympathetic of my suffering.”

“If you need sympathy go hang out with some Hufflepuffs,” Daphne tells her, throwing her arm around Y/N’s shoulder. “What did the twins do this time?”

Instead of answering Y/N reaches for her bag and pulls out her charms book, handing it over to Daphne. “Go ahead. Try and open it.”

Daphne gives her a look as she cautiously takes it from her hands. She shares a look with Marcus and Adrian, who were finally intrigued enough to pay attention, before she slowly opens it. As soon as it falls open there’s a whizzing noise followed by loud pops as a mini firework show starts to go off. Daphne squeals and quickly shuts the book, her eyes wide.

“What in the hell was that?” she asks, tossing it back to Y/N.

“Whatever it was it was kinda cool. Open it again,” Marcus says with a laugh.

Y/N glares at him and shoves the book back in her bag. “Fred and George did something to it, obviously. It scared the shit out of me when I opened it in class. Flitwick took 30 points! 20 for the interruption it caused and 10 for the curse word I yelled.”

Adrian and Marcus erupt in a fit of hysterics as they imagine the scene it must have caused, and Y/N gets up so she can beat both of them with a pillow. They both pick up their own pillows to retaliate, and the three of them spend the next several minutes hitting each other. It only ends when a spare pillow ends up flying over and smacking Pansy Parkinson in the back of the head, causing all four of them to collapse in fits of laughter.

Y/N is the first to calm down, wiping a few stray tears from her eyes. “Oh, that was absolutely incredible. Just what I needed.” As the rest of her friends pull themselves together Y/N grabs her bag. “Come on, let’s go to dinner. I wanna catch Dimwit 1 and Dimwit 2 so I can make them fix my stupid book.”

When the four of them arrive at the Great Hall Daphne, Marcus and Adrian head towards the Slytherin table, while Y/N makes a beeline towards the Gryffindor table. “Oi! Weasley!” When three red heads whip around to look at Y/N she sighs. Only one of the twins is sitting at the table, and it’s a 50/50 chance she gets it right, so she decides to just take a guess at which one it is. “George!”

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” George asks as Y/N reaches the table.

She smiles to herself, proud that she had gotten it right. Y/N had never taken the time to learn the differences between the two, but now that she’s examining George she can tell that his eyes are softer, like there’s some reservation behind them. She takes out her charms textbook and places it on the table in front of him.

“Fix it,” she demands.

“Fix what?” he asks coyly, a mischievous smile on his face.

Y/N clenches her fist and takes a deep breath, trying to keep her composure. “Don’t play stupid, Weasley. Just fix my book.”

George laughs. “Who said I’m playing stupid? You’re the one that called me a dimwit earlier, and you’re right. I am a dimwit.”

Their exchange has caught the attention of the Gryffindors sitting around them, and they’re all watching Y/N intently, smiles playing at the corners of their mouths.

“Look, your stupid little prank has already served its purpose. It scared me and I lost Slytherin some points. Just fix the damn thing, will you?” Y/N is starting to get desperate, but she doesn’t let it show. She keeps her expression blank, not wanting George to know how truly bothered she is.

“I don’t know. Maybe I would be more inclined to fix it if you asked me nicely, Y/N,” his tone is teasing, so much so it almost sounds condescending. The students sitting around them laugh lightly, waiting to see what Y/N does next.

Y/N grits her teeth, weighing her options in her head. She could stand here and nicely ask George to fix her book, or she could walk away and send an owl home to have her parents send her a new one. And even though she is tempted to just take the easy way out, she’ll be damned if she lets a Weasley twin get one over on her.

She takes a deep breath and plasters a sickeningly sweet, fake smile on her face. “George, would you please fix my Charms book?”

A look of surprise quickly crosses George’s face, before he replaces it with an easy smile. “Of course, Y/N. Thank you so much for being a good girl and asking nicely.” The Gryffindor table is basically in full on hysterics by now, and Y/N can feel her cheeks heating up. As soon as George has pressed his wand to her book and muttered the countercharm she snatches it off the table.

“Thanks so much, George,” she forces out, before she turns to head over to the Slytherin table. “Fucking prick.”

She sits down between Adrian and Draco Malfoy with a huff, already trying to figure out what her revenge will be. The conversation she’d had with Marcus and Daphne in Herbology pops back into her head and a wicked smile forms on her face.

“Why couldn’t you get Daphne to do this? It’s freezing out here,” Adrian whispers as he shivers.

Y/N rolls her eyes as they tiptoe through the greenhouse. “And you lot call me dramatic.” They both freeze in place when they hear a creek, but when no other noise comes they continue on. “Daphne Greengrass, awake past 10 pm? Ms. Beauty sleep is a nightmare if she doesn’t get a full 8 hours, you know that.”

When they reach the container Professor Sprout keeps the Dragon Dung fertilizer in she turns to Adrian, giving him a mischievous grin. “Besides, you know you’d regret it if you didn’t come with me. Now quick, hand me the bags.”

After they get the required materials from the Greenhouse, she and Adrian quietly sneak back in the castle and head up towards the Owlery. It takes them longer than anticipated, since they have to keep ducking behind statues and into classrooms to avoid Filch and Mrs. Norris, but eventually they make it. They both sigh in relief when they return to the common room 30 minutes later, the final part of Y/N’s plan in place for the morning.

“You kind of amaze me, you know that?” Adrian says with a laugh as they both head towards the staircases that lead to their dorms.

Y/N chuckles and shakes her head. “You’re only nice to me so you don’t end up on the end of one of my revenge plans.”

The next morning Y/N is up bright and early, her body practically vibrating with excitement. Despite the fact that the Weasley Twins have been pulling pranks on her since first year, this is the first time she’s decided to retaliate.

She could deal with most of their antics. Locking her in the toilets, charming her shampoo, hitting her with snowballs and every other little trick or joke they pulled, Y/N could just grin and bear it. But having to stand in the middle of the Great Hall and practically beg George to fix her book was her tipping point. She can practically still hear him calling her a good girl and it causes a shiver to run down her spine. After today Fred and George will certain think twice about messing with her.

“Hurry up!” she urges her friends as she races to the top of the stairs. The owl post will be arriving in a few minutes, and there is no way she’s missing the big show. Adrian picks up his pace to meet her, but Daphne and Marcus continue up the stairs slowly, caught up in conversation. “You lot are hopeless.”

Y/N practically skips into the Great Hall and after sitting down where she knows she’ll have the perfect view of what’s about to happen she rubs her hands together. Daphne and Marcus give her a confused look as they sit down across from her and Adrian, who thankfully shares her excitement.

“What has gotten into you, Y/N, you look like you’re about to jump out of your skin,” Daphne comments, sounding slightly concerned that her friend may have gone mad.

As the first few owls start to fly in, Y/N grins and gestures towards the Gryffindor table. “Shush, shush. Just look over there and you’ll find out.”

Y/N holds her breath as two familiar owls fly in, each of them holding a package. They soar towards the Gryffindor table, and instead of gracefully dropping their parcels in front of their recipients they drop them a few moments early. The brown paper bags explode as they hit Fred and George at the same time, Dragon Dung Fertilizer pouring down their heads and onto their shoulders and laps.

The entire Great Hall is silent for a moment, before nearly every student bursts into laughter. The most noise comes from the Slytherin table, and Y/N’s chest swells with pride. Adrian pats her on the back as Daphne and Marcus turn back to congratulate her on a prank well done.

Y/N can’t stop looking at the Twins, and her breath catches in her throat when they return her gaze. She sends them both a wink and a wave, giggles still falling from her lips.

“You think you’re hilarious, don’t you?” George asks Y/N as he and his brother slide into the seats behind her and Daphne in Defense Against the Dark Arts that afternoon. She hasn’t seen either of them since they left the Great Hall to get cleaned up, but at lunch Astoria informed her that Ginny Weasley had told her that both boys were quite annoyed.

Y/N laughs but doesn’t turn around to look at either of them. “Nice to see you boys managed to clean up.”

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Y/N,” Fred says, leaning forward in his seat to ensure Y/N hears him.

She rolls her eyes, but still doesn’t look back at them. “What? You can’t take what you dish out? I thought you two were tougher than that.” Daphne nudges Y/N, gesturing to the front of the classroom where Professor Umbridge is now standing, clearly telling her to knock it off with the twins.

“Oh, it’s on. You have no idea what you’ve started,” George whispers at her. She imagines that he’s trying to sound threatening, but she can hear the smile in his voice.

As Professor Umbridge starts rambling on about her expectations, Y/N turns to face the twins. “Bring it on, bitch.”

“No magic? No practical lessons? She was joking, right?” Y/N rambles as they head towards the Great Hall for dinner. They’ve all just come from a dreadful Defense Against the Dark Arts class, where Professor Umbridge had made it very clear that they’d be spending the year doing nothing but reading from their textbooks.

Daphne rolls her eyes. “Frankly I don’t see what the big deal is. She’s not wrong, our Defense Against the Dark Arts classes have been all over the place. I think it’s a good thing that we’re finally going to have some structure and unity.”

Y/N groans, looking to Adrian and Marcus for support. She frowns when they both refuse to meet her gaze. “That’s because you don’t care about doing good on your NEWTS. You don’t need an O on your exams to marry Marcus or whoever your parents have picked out for you to be with after graduation,” she spits.

Before Daphne has the chance to pick her jaw up off of the ground and respond, Y/N is turning around and heading away from her friends, needing to be alone.

“Are you alright?”

Y/N picks her head up from where she had buried it in her arms, surprised to see Ginny Weasley standing in front of her. She nods as she uncurls her body, stretching it out slightly. She had taken refuge on a random bench in one of the corridors and after sitting on the stone for a few hours her body has begun to ache. She moves down the bench a little and gestures for Ginny to take a seat.

While the Weasley Twins are Y/N’s least favorite people in the world, she actually doesn’t mind their siblings. She had gotten to know Percy quite well, since they had been Prefects together for a year before he had become Head Boy, and he had helped her out on quite a few transfiguration assignments during her OWL year. All she knows about Ron are the things Draco has said, but she doubts that anything that comes from his mouth is true. She’s never had a conversation with Ginny, but Daphne’s younger sister Astoria is quite friendly with her, so if she’s willing to befriend a Slytherin she’s alright in Y/N’s book.

“You seemed pretty angry earlier, before dinner. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Y/N fidgets with her school robes as her cheeks flush, she had been hoping that no one had witnessed her outburst. She had heard too often that Slytherins were mean and evil, so she always did her best to contain her emotions around others, not wanting to perpetuate the stereotype even further.

“You saw that then?” When Ginny nods she sighs. “It’s just been a frustrating few days and I love my friends, but they don’t always get it. That stupid Umbridge is really going to screw me over this year and I can’t fail now. Not when I’ve spent the last seven years working my ass off.”

“I’m really sorry, Y/N that sounds awful. There’s going to be this, thing. A meeting or whatever. Next weekend during the first Hogsmeade trip,” Ginny pauses so she can tuck a piece of parchment into her hand. “Stop by, it might be, uh helpful to you.” With a warm smile and a pat on the shoulder Ginny leaves Y/N alone.

With a heavy sigh Y/N starts to head to the common room. She uncurls the piece of paper Ginny had handed her, fearful that this might be some elaborate set up for one of her brother’s tricks.

Hogshead Inn, 12 pm, is all the paper reads in neat handwriting that Y/N doesn’t recognize. She shoves the piece of parchment into her pocket as she reaches the dungeons, trying to decide whether or not to go.

The rest of the week and the next pass by slowly much to Y/N’s dismay. Things between her, Marcus and Adrian returned to somewhat normal, but Daphne is still refusing to speak to her. No matter how many times Y/N apologized Daphne just kept ignoring her. The fact that the Weasley Twins were lurking behind every corner just pushed Y/N closer to the edge, so by the time Saturday arrived Y/N didn’t care if the note Ginny had slipped her the previous week was the bait for an elaborate prank. She just needed some sort of human interaction.

Due to her and Daphne’s still strained relationship and the first Slytherin Quidditch practice of the school year, Y/N is all alone as she heads to Hogsmeade. Normally she’d not even bother going if her friends didn’t accompany her, but her lack of company makes it easier for her to slip down the forgotten path that leads to the Hogshead Inn.

She looks the dim building up and down as she approaches, grimacing at its appearance. Adrian and Marcus had tried to convince her and Daphne to enter the pub with them during one of their first trips to the little village on the outskirts of Hogwarts, but the girls had overpowered them, and dragged them into Honeydukes instead.

She pauses briefly at the entrance, trying to prepare for the things that could be waiting for her on the other side. She enters through the door slowly, her eyes widening in surprise at the scene she’s met with. It certainly is not what she had expected. Harry Potter, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger are sitting in front of the unlit fireplace, with more than a dozen chairs facing them. Some are empty, while others are taken up by students that Y/N vaguely recognizes. Ginny gives her a wave when they make eye contact, motioning for her to take a seat.

Y/N sits down in a seat towards the back and fidgets with the sleeves of her jumper. She’s relaxed slightly since she entered, this clearly wasn’t some elaborate prank set up by Fred and George, but she’s still unsure of what she just walked in to.

“What are you doing here?” Comes a voice from behind her, causing Y/N’s shoulders to tense up. She turns around only to be met with Fred and George.

“Come to spy on us, Head Girl? Want to get all of our secrets and then run off to the greaseball you call Head of House to tattle on us?” Fred sneers as he and George push past her to take the seats in front of her.

Y/N rolls her eyes and crosses her arms. “Clearly I’m here for the same reasons you are, moron. If I was spying on you why would I just be sitting here out in the open?”

Truly, Y/N has no idea what she’s doing there, Ginny had been extremely vague. All she knows is that this meeting will somehow make dealing with Umbridge better, and after the awful start to term she’s had Y/N is willing to do anything at this point.

Before either Fred or George can respond, Hermione is urging everyone to take a seat so they can begin.

45 minutes later Y/N is standing behind Fred and George, waiting her turn to sign the paper that will make her an official member of Dumbledore’s Army. Y/N was skeptical at first about getting involved in whatever Harry and Hermione had cooked up. But as Harry talked more, about needing real, practical knowledge Y/N couldn’t help but agree. She had always been so focused on school and her future career that she never even considered what lay waiting for them outside of Hogwarts’ protective walls.

Y/N hadn’t known Cedric well. A conversation or two during Prefect duties, idle pleasantries in the hall, but that was it. But she had spent much of her summer vacation thinking about him, and about what Dumbledore had said about his death. While her friends and many of her housemates thought Dumbledore was an old crack pot, Y/N trusted and believed him. Her parents did as well, and they had talked about the first wizarding war with her over dinner on several different occasions.

As she listened to Harry talk about what he had seen and what he has already dealt with, Y/N knew that she needed to be a part of whatever he was planning. Being able to get some practice with actual defensive magic would surely help her when it came to end of the year exams, but if they truly were getting ready for another war, it may just help save her life.

As she heads back towards school, she can’t help but think about a conversation she’d had with her father not too long before the school year started again. He had reminded her that she had been placed in Slytherin house because of her ambitions in life, and her willingness to do whatever it takes to get there. Before he had kissed her goodnight he told her that it wasn’t always what you know, but who you know and that the people she surrounded herself with was just as important as focusing on her studies.

At first she had scoffed at his thinly veiled digs at her friends. Y/N has been friends with Marcus, Daphne and Adrian since first year, and she had never felt the need to expand her circle. Her parents were quite familiar with the families her friends came from, and the values they held. She knew that her parents didn’t exactly like her friends but were still supportive of Y/N and the relationship she formed with them.

But now, after seeing how badly the Daily Prophet was slandering both Dumbledore and Harry and hearing directly from Harry what he’d been through, Y/N understands what her father was saying. The Greengrass’ and Flint’s had been suspected Death Eaters all those years ago and its likely members of Adrian’s family had ties to Voldemort as well. Her father had been encouraging her to seek out new friendships to try and protect her from the Dark Arts that seemed very attractive to members of Slytherin house.

She’s so lost in thought that she doesn’t hear the Weasley Twins coming up behind her until they’re knocking into her shoulders as they pass by. She flips them off behind their backs, trying to ignore their chuckling.

“I can’t believe I just signed up to spend even more time with those twats,” she mumbles to herself as the castle comes into view. While she doesn’t mind having Harry, Hermione, Ron and Ginny on her side, she plans on staying as far away from the Weasley Twins as possible.

That night at dinner Y/N is listening to Adrian and Marcus bicker over what drills to run during their next practice when her mouth starts to tingle. Her eyes widen when she takes another sip of pumpkin juice and the sensation only gets worse. Adrian and Marcus give her a concerned look as she begins to fidget and from the corner of her eye Y/N can see that Daphne is watching as well.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Adrian asks as Y/N slaps her hands over her mouth.

Except she can’t respond. Her tongue has started to swell in her mouth so much so that it’s trying to force its way past her lips. It feels like it weighs a ton and as the pain increases she has no choice but to let it slowly seep out of her mouth.

“What’s the matter, Y/N?” she hears George shout from the Gryffindor table, causing groups of students to look over at her. She’s desperately trying to contain her growing tongue as she gets up to head to the Hospital Wing.

“Cat got your tongue?” she can hear Fred call behind her, nearly drowned out by the peeling laughter coming from the Great Hall.

When she gets back to the common room that night, Y/N is expecting it to be empty. But when she’s barely closed the door behind her a mess of black curls takes over her vision and arms wrap around her tightly.

“Oh, thank Merlin you’re alright. I thought you would have been back ages ago. What happened?” Daphne asks as she lets go. She leads Y/N over to a set of couches in the corner, where Adrian and Marcus are waiting for them.

Adrian pulls her down next to him and Daphne sits so close to Y/N on the other side that she’s practically in her lap. “Would you all stop fussing? I’m fine, honest,” she says with a reassuring laugh. While Y/N is fine, she can’t help but lean into Adrian’s side, feeling relieved that things are back to normal between the four of them.

“Let me guess, Weasley Twin revenge?” Marcus asks.

Y/N nods, smiling when Daphne curses them under her breath. “A creation they like to call Ton-Tongue Toffees. They must have managed to get it into my goblet or something, so it melted into my pumpkin juice. It took ages to get the swelling to go down but Madam Pomfrey managed it. I’ve just spent the last 45 minutes listening to Snape try and get the maximum punishment for them.”

Y/N knows that not many people like Snape, that it’s really only Slytherins that appreciate him. It’s no secret that he favors his house almost unfairly so, but she doesn’t really mind it when he’s advocating for them. The twins had technically poisoned her, which is something Snape had pointed out when McGonagall suggested only taking points away from the boys for a “harmless” prank. Snape had managed to negotiate on Y/N’s behalf, and the boys will now be serving a week’s detention with Snape.

“So, what are you gonna do to get back at them?” Daphne asks, causing all three of them to give her a look. “What?”

“What happened to all that crap about just ignoring them?” Marcus teases.

Daphne rolls her eyes. “To hell with all that. They want a prank war? Well then let’s show them what being a Slytherin is all about.”

By the time Monday morning rolls around Y/N is in such a good mood that she practically skips down the stairs to Potions. The fake Galleon Ginny had slipped her during lunch yesterday had burned red this morning, letting Y/N know that the DA’s first official meeting would be taking place this Thursday. So not only was she going to get some real defensive magic training, but after the Twin’s prank on Saturday evening her and Daphne were able to properly make up and she had her friends back.

She bites her lip as the twins fall in step beside her once again, determined not to let their presence ruin her mood.

“How’s your tongue feeling this morning?” Fred asks from her right side.

“Any bloating? Tingling? Lasting side effects?” George teases from her left side.

Y/N shakes her head and chuckles. “It’s okay boys, go ahead and make your jokes. I want you to remember how good you feel now, because once I’ve gotten you back you’ll wish you’d never messed with me.”

She can hear them both laugh as they enter the Potions class and take their respective seats. “Really? Already planning your next late-night trip into the greenhouses?” George muses.

Y/N turns in her seat so she can look each of them in the eyes. “Oh, you poor, sweet, boys,” she mocks. “When I’m done with you the dragon dung fertilizer you took to the head will seem like a shower of rose petals.” She gives them a sly wink, and turns back around, their shocked expressions still dancing around in her brain.

“So, you figured out what you’re going to do them, then?” Daphne asks excitedly after Y/N has finished recounting her conversation with Fred and George to her and Marcus in Herbology. Professor Sprout has tasked them with dissecting Shrivelfigs, so the three of them can talk freely. Even though her and her friends had spent most of Sunday trying to concoct the perfect revenge plan they had come up with nothing that was quite right.

“I guess you could say that.” When Marcus and Daphne give her questioning looks she giggles. “I’m not going to actually do anything to them.” When they both still look confused she rolls her eyes. “I’m just going to let them think that something big is coming. That way they’re always on edge when I’m around, always looking over their shoulders, waiting for some huge prank to befall them. It’ll drive them bonkers trying to figure out when and where it’s gonna happen.”

Marcus gives Y/N a look of appreciation. “Damn, that’s pretty brilliant, Y/N.”

Y/N bows at his praise, causing Daphne to chuckle. “What they got this morning is just a taste of what I have planned for tonight.”

Y/N sneaks out of the common room that night, not too long after dinner. She knows that Fred and George will be serving detention with Snape and that it’s the perfect opportunity to mess with them.

When she reaches the Potions classroom she pauses just outside the door to ensure that Snape isn’t actually still in the room with the boys. When all she can hear is the clatter of cauldrons and Fred and George’s soft voices, she decides to go for it.

“Excuse me, Professor?” Y/N asks innocently as she enters the classroom. “Oh, boys! What a treat, seeing you down in our ends this late at night.” Y/N walks further into the classroom and she can’t help but smile as the twins start to fidget.

“What are you doing here, Y/N?” Fred asks, eyeing her warily.

She puts the most innocent look on her face as she can, blinking up at the two of them. “I’m looking for Professor Snape. Is he around?”

“No, he left us alone quite a bit ago,” George responds. Y/N can tell he’s trying to hide how nervous he sounds. Fred seems like the one to never back down, so Y/N switches her tactic slightly. She starts to walk closer to George and she has to bite her lip to keep the smile off her face as he tries to subtly move away from her.

“That’s a shame. I have a question I need to ask him.” Y/N leans against the table, moving that much closer to George. “Did he say when he was going to be back?”

“He didn’t,” Fred answers, making direct eye contact with Y/N. She returns his gaze, not backing down until he looks away from her.

Feeling accomplished Y/N smacks the table with her palm and stands back up. “Well I guess I’ll leave you boys to it.” She heads towards the door. “Have fun.” With one final wink she’s out the door, laughing to herself as she goes.

Before Y/N knows it, Thursday has already arrived. She tries her best to contain her excitement, but as the first DA meeting approaches it’s getting harder and harder. She feels bad for not telling her friends about what she’s involved in, but she knows it’s for the better. They certainly wouldn’t approve of the unofficial club, and she doesn’t want to chance that they’ll blow the whole operation in to Umbridge.

“I’ll see you guys later,” Y/N says with a wave as she heads to leave the common room. She told the others she had some Head Girl duties to take care of so they wouldn’t try and come with her when she left.

As she heads towards the room of requirement Y/N takes the time to glance over her shoulder every once in a while to make sure no one is following her. She had been the only Slytherin in attendance at the Hogshead Inn, and she doesn’t need to be trusted even less by bringing unwanted guests with her.

When she finally enters the room of requirement it’s a bit crowded, but she can tell that not everyone has arrived yet. Ginny waves at Y/N, motioning for her to come and join her and Hermione. She’s silently thankful for her invitation so she doesn’t have to stand there by herself and goes to join the two girls.

“Hey, Ginny. Granger,” she greets them both with an awkward wave. She doesn’t know much about Hermione, again, having only heard about her from Draco. She’s had to interact with her a few times due to Hermione being a prefect, but for some odd reason she trusts Ginny, so she figures that Hermione is alright to hang out with.

“Y/N I’m really glad you decided to join. Not only is it probably helpful to have the Head Girl on our side, it’s also really nice to have some house diversity,” Hermione says with a genuine smile.

Y/N can feel her cheeks start to heat up, so she clears her throat, giving her a moment to regain her composure. “Thanks, Hermione. I never really understood it, all of the house rivalry mumbo jumbo. I’m just supposed to automatically hate you because some hat put you in one house over another? Seems silly to me.”

She hears someone scoff behind her, and she turns to see George standing behind her, his arms crossed over his chest. “What? Got a problem, Weasley?”

“That’s real big talk considering the fact that you’ve had some grudge against me and Fred since first year, Y/N,” he says, looking at her curiously.

“I don’t hate you and Fred because you’re Gryffindors,” she explains with an eye roll. “I hate you because you’re ungodly annoying.” She bites her lip, allowing herself to look him up and down. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, and Y/N can’t deny that his arms look downright filthy. She had never truly looked at George, he was quieter than Fred, so he didn’t quite capture her attention like his brother had. But now that he’s standing over her, she can’t deny that he’s attractive. He is most certainly her mortal enemy, but he’s an attractive enemy at least.

“If anything, you and Fred are the ones who started our rivalry,” she continues a moment later when her eyes meet his again. “You locked me in the girl’s bathroom with Moaning Myrtle for three hours on the second day of school, remember?”

“Oh yeah,” George says with a laugh. “Forgot about that.”

Y/N rolls her eyes, turning her attention to Harry as he starts the meeting. He decides to start with something basic but effective, disarming. Y/N could disarm any witch or wizard in her sleep, but not everyone there is at the same skill level, so she’s willing to get some practice in.

They start to break up into pairs and Y/N looks around, trying to find someone, anyone to work with. Of course, George is with Fred, Ginny is already working with a Ravenclaw Y/N thinks is named Luna, and Hermione is with Ron. She ends up locking eyes with Neville Longbottom and she motions for him to come join her.

“I’ll work with you Neville.”

He gives her an appreciative smile, and as he crosses the room George nudges him. “Watch out for her Neville. You never know what she might be up to, this could all be a big ploy to take out the entire Gryffindor house.”

Y/N flips him off, giving Neville a warm smile. “Just ignore him, he’s an idiot.” They both take their stance, wands at the ready. She has heard Draco and his cronies make fun of Neville for hours on end, so she’s not really expecting much to happen.

When Neville waves his wand and shouts Expelliarmus, his own wand flies out of his hand and clatters to the floor at Y/N’s feet. His cheeks turn a bright red, and Y/N can practically feel how embarrassed he is. He looks at her expectantly, like he’s waiting for her to laugh and say something rude.

She sends him a smile and grabs his wand. “That was a really good try, Neville. The first time I tried to disarm someone I nearly blinded Professor Quirrell when my wand shot out of my hand and flew across the room,” she reassures him with a laugh. When Neville laughs too she hands him his wand back. “Here, try moving your wand like this.” She shows him the proper wand movement before she takes her place again. “Ready?”

Two hours later when Y/N is heading back towards the Slytherin common room, she feels accomplished. Neville had managed to get her wand to wiggle in her grip by the end of it, and she could tell he was proud of himself.

Y/N is thinking about all the homework she has to do tonight when someone falls into step beside her. “Alright, give it up, what’s your deal?”

She looks up at George before she examines the rest of the hallway. “Where’s your brother? I thought you two did everything together.”

“He’s down in the kitchens getting food, not that it’s any of your business,” he adds quickly. “And stop dodging the question. What’s your deal?”

She rolls her eyes and stops walking. “I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about.” George turns to face her, crossing his arms over his chest. She mirrors his stance, looking up at him.

“Don’t play stupid. You know what I’m talking about.”

Y/N sighs, rolling her eyes again. “So, what because I’m a Slytherin I can’t participate in clandestine clubs? Your sister is the one who invited me to that meeting, so go and ask her why she did it. All I did was show up. I liked what Harry said and since Umbridge isn’t doing anything to help us with NEWTS I signed up. That’s it.”

George doesn’t respond immediately, instead he studies Y/N’s face, trying to see if she’s lying. He goes to say something when someone interrupts them.

“Mr. Weasley! Ms. Y/L/N!” They both jump as Professor McGonagall comes down the hall towards them. “What are you two doing out past curfew?” Y/N and George look to each other with a worried glance, not entirely sure what to say. “Never mind the reason, you shouldn’t be out of your common rooms at this hour. I’ll have 15 points from each of your houses and I’ll see you both in detention tomorrow evening!”

Y/N gives George one last glare before she stalks all the way back to her common room.

“What exactly were you doing standing in a hallway with George Weasley past curfew anyway?” Daphne asks Y/N the next day at lunch.

Daphne had just finished explaining the evening she had planned out for them when Y/N informed her that she’d be stuck in detention with George for the beginning portion of their girl’s night.

Y/N shrugs, trying to act casual. “I finished up my Head Girl stuff and was going back to the common room when I saw him sneaking around. I followed him, figuring I could catch him doing something. I confronted him and McGonagall saw us and gave us detention.”

“Maybe that was his plan all along, maybe he was trying to get you in trouble,” Daphne suggests.

“Yeah but he got in trouble too, Daph,” Y/N reminds her with a laugh.

The other girl shrugs, taking a bite of her Yorkshire pudding. “I didn’t say it was a smart plan.” Marcus and Adrian arrive then, taking their respective seats next to the girls.

“Who didn’t have a smart plan?” Marcus asks as he starts to pile food on his plate.

“George Weasley,” Y/N answers, batting away Adrian’s hand as he tries to steal her roll. “I caught him sneaking around one of the hallways after curfew and McGonagall rolled up on us and gave us detention.”

“Detention? On a Friday night? What about our hot date?” Adrian teases, making another attempt at stealing her roll.

Y/N flips him off and lets him have it. “The only hot date you’re going to have tonight is your right hand.”

Y/N groans as she picks up another teapot to clean. Her and George have been serving their detention in complete silence for twenty minutes and her brain feels like it’s going to mush. “Is detention always this boring?” she asks, not really expecting George to respond.

“No. But mostly because I’m usually with Fred, not you,” George replies dully.

“Oh, how you wound me, George,” she responds, mocking the tone he had used with her on the first day of term.

They work together in silence for a few minutes before George puts down the teapot he had been scrubbing and tosses his rag to the side. “So, I asked Ginny,” he says, turning to look at Y/N.

Y/N gives him a look as she turns to face him as well, discarding what she had been doing. “Asked Ginny what?”

George rolls his eyes at her, clearly annoyed that Y/N had forgotten the conversation they had in the hall the previous night. “Why she told you about the meeting at the Hogshead, about Dumbledore’s Army.”

“Oh,” she responds softly. When she had said that to George last night she hadn’t expected him to actually ask, she was just trying to get him to leave her alone. “And what did she say?” George gives her a look, causing Y/N to roll her eyes. “Fine, don’t tell me. You’re the one that brought it up.”

George chuckles at her frustration. “Aw come on, I’m just kidding.” He pauses. “She said that Astoria Greengrass talks about you a ton, about how you’re different than other Slytherins. She said something about how you got into a fight with your friends, and she decided that if she talked to you and you were cool enough, she would invite you.”

“So, I’ve got the Ginny Weasley stamp of approval? I’m honored,” she says with a laugh, her surprise evident in her tone. “Does that make me alright then? Since I’m different than other Slytherins? Whatever that means.”

George shrugs his shoulders. “I think I know what she means.” When Y/N raises an eyebrow at him he continues. “Oh, come on don’t act like you don’t know it. You’re nice.”

Y/N scoffs, lightly shoving his arm. “Slytherins being mean is just a stereotype, George. Tons of the people in my house are nice. Daphne is nice, and so are Marcus and Adrian.”

“Cut the crap, Y/N,” he chides. “Daphne, Marcus and Adrian are nice to you and the other members of your house because you all share that in common. But you’re nice to, well most people honestly. Everyone even, except maybe me and Fred. But we aren’t nice to you either, so I understand it.”

Y/N opens her mouth to respond, but George puts his hand up to stop her. “Take yesterday, for example. I saw you, with Neville. The way you made him feel better about his failure, how you encouraged him and helped him improve. Daphne or Marcus or any other Slytherin wouldn’t have done that. They’d have laughed in his face and you know it.”

“I guess you’re right,” she admits softly, a slight blush on her cheeks from George’s kind words.

“So, you’re so worried about your NEWTs that you’re willing to spend hours practicing a spell you mastered in 2nd year? Thought you were top of our class?” he teases.

Y/N plays with her fingers and fidgets in her seat. She knows the question is innocent, but it feels like George can see right into her soul. That’s he looking at all her worst fears. “I am, yeah. I need at least an Exceeds Expectations on my defense against the dark arts NEWT to be a Healer and I’ve already worked so hard, I can’t screw it up now, not when I’m this close.”

George is silent for a moment and he turns in his chair so he’s fully facing Y/N. When she does the same he speaks. “I didn’t know you want to be a healer.”

Y/N rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Weasley. What is it you said? I’m not nice to you and you’re not nice to me. It’s always been that way.”

“Yeah I guess so,” he admits. “I never imagined you as a Healer, if I’m honest. But I think you’ll be amazing at it.”

Y/N blushes and looks down. “Thanks, I appreciate it. That’s all I’ve ever wanted to be, since I was a little kid. I used to pretend to Heal my dolls all the time. My parents even gave me a muggle doctors coat for Christmas once, I wore it like, every day,” she reminisces with a laugh.

George laughs along with her. “I fear that I may have seriously misjudged you, Y/N.”

“What do you mean?” she asks, lightly shoving his shoulder.

George blushes and Y/N finds it endearing. “I figured you and your family were like the other pureblood Slytherin dynasties. That you cared about your grades to make you a more appealing bride or something.”

Y/N nods in understanding. “Yeah I don’t blame you on that one. That’s what most people think. My parents were raised like that and they hated it. All the stupid rules, the lack of freedom. They’re lucky, they were able to find genuine love with each other. And they’re still so in love, it’s actually pretty sickening,” she says with a laugh. “But they agreed that when they had kids they wouldn’t raise them like that. That they’d let them think for themselves, find their own way in life. It’s been so hard, not to send an owl to my dad and tell him all about Dumbledore’s Army.”

“Really? He’d approve of it?” he asks, unable to help how surprised he sounds.

“Oh yeah,” she confirms with a laugh. “He was so angry all summer, with what the Daily Prophet is saying about Harry and Dumbledore. He even not so subtly suggested that I expand my horizons, make some friendships and connections with people from other houses. I think he’d be really excited about what Harry’s doing.”

“That’s actually really cool. I guess I definitely misjudged you then.”

They both get back to work then, but Y/N doesn’t feel as awkward anymore. She’s never bothered to have an actual conversation with either of the Weasley Twins, and she is quite surprised to find that she actually really enjoyed it.

When Y/N and George leave the transfiguration classroom a few hours later she’s exhausted and silently thanks Merlin that she is a Witch, because cleaning the muggle way is dreadful. Despite the late hour Y/N is surprised to see that the hallway isn’t empty. Adrian and Fred are leaning up against the wall across from the transfiguration classroom a few feet apart, glaring at each other.

“What are you doing here?” Y/N asks with a soft laugh, altering both boys of their arrival.

“I wanted to make sure George was alright. You’ve been spouting about your grand revenge plan all week, I wanted to make sure you didn’t try and pull anything while you two were alone,” Fred answers, finally looking away from Adrian so he can glare at Y/N.

Y/N rolls her eyes. “I wasn’t talking to you, Weasley. I don’t care why you’re here.” When Fred flips her off she returns the gesture.

“To answer your question,” Adrian starts as he walks towards her. “I came to accompany you back to the common room. A gentleman never lets a lady walk alone at night.”

“Well then where’s this gentleman?” she teases, looking around the hallway.

Before Adrian can respond Fred laughs. “Yeah, I don’t see a lady either.” George’s laughter joins his brothers and Y/N flips them off again.

When Adrian starts to move closer to Fred, Y/N grabs his arm and pulls him into her chest. “Not here, Adrian,” she whispers. “McGonagall is right in there,” she reminds him, gesturing towards the open classroom door with her head.

“You are so lucky, weasel,” Adrian practically growls at him. Y/N wraps her arms around Adrian’s waist and starts to pull him down the hall away from Fred and George. Adrian glares at them one last time before he turns forward and wraps his arm around her shoulder. “You should have let me hit him. One good hit would have been worth a month’s detention.”

“Not this close to quidditch season it’s not. Smack a few good bludgers at him instead,” Y/N pauses and she looks up at Adrian with her best puppy dog eyes. “Piggyback ride? Please?”

Adrian sighs heavily but crouches down in front of Y/N, nonetheless. She squeals in delight, climbing onto her friend’s back. Adrian grips her thighs tightly as he stands. “Ready?” Once he feels Y/N nod he sets off towards the common room. “You’re lucky I love you, brat.”

When Fred and George slide into their seats behind Y/N in Potions on Monday morning they don’t say a word. When she saw them enter the room she had tensed up, just waiting for whatever snarky comment they were bound to make. So, when they take their seats without a word, Y/N can’t help but turn around to look at them.

“What’s wrong with you two?” When neither of them responds, Y/N waves her hand in front of their faces. “Hello? Earth to Nitwit 1 and Nitwit 2.” She expected her insult to get them to at least look at her, but both of their focus is on the blackboard in the front of the room. She huffs in annoyance. “Whatever be pricks. I don’t care.” She turns back around and crosses her arms, trying to convince herself that she in fact doesn’t care that they’re ignoring her.

“Will you stop staring at them? It’s weird,” Marcus scolds Y/N that night at dinner, kicking her shin under the table to get her attention.

Y/N kicks him back, finally tearing her attention away from Fred and George. “They’re planning something,” she insists.

Daphne rolls her eyes and throws a carrot at Y/N. “First you complain that they’re always loud and bothering you and now you’re complaining that they aren’t bothering you. Will you just give it a rest? Be thankful that they’ve finally decided to leave you alone.”

Y/N sticks her tongue out at Daphne before she takes a bite out of the carrot she had thrown at her. She knows Daphne is right, but she can’t help but be bothered that Fred and George aren’t even trying to annoy her. As much as she hates to admit it, she misses their antics. Y/N had really enjoyed George’s company during their detention and part of her had hoped that maybe their newfound acquaintanceship would have carried over once they were no longer the only people in the room.

So, she had found herself quite disappointed that he hadn’t said a word to her all day. He hadn’t even looked at her. Y/N thought she had felt his gaze on her during Charms, but when she turned around to check he was focused on Flitwick.

“Daph is right,” Adrian whispers in her ear, bringing her thoughts back to the present. “They’re finally leaving you alone, you should be happy.”

Y/N shrugs her shoulders, her gaze falling upon Fred and George once again. “I am happy,” she lies. “I just know them too well. They’re planning something big. They’re trying to throw me off.” She flips her friends off when they all groan.

“What makes you think they’re planning something?” Marcus asks. “Did something happen between you and George during detention? You didn’t say too much about it.”

Y/N bites her lip. She hadn’t said much to her friends about her detention when her and Adrian arrived back in the common room that night, just that it was mind numbingly boring. She didn’t want them to know that she had not only had a conversation with George Weasley, but she had actually enjoyed it.

“No, nothing happened. We sat there cleaning teapots for hours, McGonagall came back and she let us go,” she says with a shrug, trying to seem casual. “He didn’t even say two words to me.”

“Exactly, so chill out. Enjoy the peace,” Daphne says.

When Y/N finally collapses in her bed that night she can’t seem to fall asleep despite how tired she is. She tosses and turns, her mind wandering to George and why she’s so bothered by the sudden lack of attention she’s getting from him. Her stomach lurches, realization hitting her like a ton of bricks.

I have a crush on George Weasley.

Y/N spends the rest of the week avoiding both Weasley Twins. She sits as far away from them as possible, refuses to look at them and even goes as far as to hide in an empty classroom when she sees them heading towards her one afternoon. Y/N is determined to extinguish whatever positive feelings she has towards George. She’s spent the past seven years hating his guts, and she is not about to let herself reverse all of that over some stupid crush. Unfortunately for Y/N, on Saturday morning her fake Galleon burns red, letting her know that there will be another DA meeting that night.

Which is why she’s currently heading towards the Room of Requirement, her stomach a pit of dread and despair. “Get it together, Y/N,” she mutters to herself. Y/N is standing just outside the room of requirement and she takes a deep breath to calm herself down.

Y/N pulls the door open and goes to head in, but she runs smack into the chest of someone trying to leave. An involuntary squeal leaves her lips as her body tenses up, preparing itself to hit the ground. Except she doesn’t even fall. A pair of strong arms wrap around her waist and she’s pulled into the other person’s chest.

“Woah there. Watch where you’re going.”

Y/N doesn’t have to look up to know that George Weasley is holding her in his arms. She can feel her cheeks heat up and she pushes away from him, needing to get away from him as fast as possible. “I could say the same to you, Weasley,” she sneers.

Even though her tone is crude Y/N can feel her heart fluttering in her chest and her skin is tingling from his touch. She looks up at his face, letting her eyes linger on his lips for just a second. She tries not to think about what it would feel like for him to grip her waist as they kissed.

“No need to be so feisty, Y/N,” George teases, snapping Y/N out of her thoughts.

She rolls her eyes and steps aside so George can leave, Fred following close behind him. “Maybe if you weren’t trying to mow me down I wouldn’t need to be,” she responds, watching as Fred flips her off behind his back.

She watches them walk away for a moment before heading into the room of requirement. Her palms are sweaty even from that small interaction with George and Y/N tries to subtly wipe them off on her skirt as she joins Ginny, Hermione and Ron in the back of the room.

“Where are they off to?” she asks after they’ve been talking for a few minutes, not wanting to seem too interested in George’s movements.

“Filch has been sniffing around for Umbridge, she knows Harry is up to something. So, Fred and George are going to slip him something that’ll put him out of commission for few hours,” Hermione explains.

Y/N nods. Hermione had made a few complaints to both Y/N and Miles, a Ravenclaw in her year that was Head Boy, that Fred and George had been spending their free time making an array of joke products and then testing them out on first years. “Despite the fact that I have been the victim of a Weasley product, I can’t say I feel bad for Filch.”

Once Fred and George slip back into the room of requirement and give Harry a thumbs up, he starts the meeting. They’re going to continue working on disarming, and Y/N immediately searches for Neville in the crowd. Neville certainly isn’t the most talented wizard, but Y/N can tell that he’s full of determination and she likes working with him. When Harry sets them off to work Neville joins her.

“You better watch out, Y/N, I’ve been practicing,” Neville says with a laugh as they take their stances.

“Alright then, Longbottom, let’s see what you’ve got.”

When Y/N leaves the Room of Requirement later that night, she can still hear Neville chattering to his friends happily as they head back to Gryffindor tower. It had taken him most of the meeting, but Neville had finally managed to get her wand to fly out of her hand. She was extremely happy for him as the other members of the DA came around to congratulate him, and not just because George had pressed up against her back as he patted Neville on the shoulder.

“Sneaking away without saying Goodbye, Y/N? I’m hurt,” George scolds teasingly as he comes up behind her.

She rolls her eyes, trying to contain her excitement. “Oh, so you’re speaking to me again?” she says as he falls into step next to her. He’s standing so close that their arms almost brush, and Y/N swallows down the butterflies that come up her throat.

“Aw, did little Y/N miss me?” George teases, shoving her shoulder.

“No,” Y/N responds far too quickly, trying not to get flustered from the contact. “Just surprised that you managed to go a whole week without annoying me that’s all.”

“Uh huh. Sure, whatever you say.”

She bites her lip, trying to contain her glee. Cut it out, she scolds herself. George Weasley is nothing more than an annoying git, you do not like him.

“Why are you following me, anyway? Last I checked Gryffindor’s common room is in the other direction,” she questions as they head down towards the Great Hall.

Y/N watches George shrug out of the corner of her eye. His face is blank, but Y/N can tell that he’s nervous. “Making sure you’re not getting up to anything is all.”

“Or you’re distracting me while your brother sets up some kind of trap,” she responds.

Suddenly she feels George’s hand wrap around her wrist and he’s pulling her into a nearby broom closet. As he slams the door shut behind them Y/N can’t help but notice just how close they are. Her back is pressed up against the wall and George is standing only a few inches away, his hands on either side of her head.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Y/N demands, hoping that her voice doesn’t shake. George is towering over her, and Y/N can see the muscles on his forearms bulging in her peripheral vision. It is taking every ounce of willpower in her body to stay still.

George leans down as he chuckles and his warm breath tickles Y/N’s cheeks, causing a shiver to run down her spine. “I think what you mean to say is thank you because I just saved your ass from serving another detention with McGonagall.”

Her eyebrows knit together in confusion. “McGonagall? I didn’t see-.“ Y/N’s sentence is cut short as George places his hand over her mouth to silence her. Her breathing involuntarily speeds up and she hopes that George can’t feel the blush on her cheeks. Y/N can hear footsteps approaching the broom closet and she closes her eyes in fear of being caught in such a compromising position with George.

Thankfully the footsteps disappear just as quicky as they had come and Y/N sighs in relief when George takes his hand away. “Thank you,” she mutters. Y/N can still feel the imprint of his hand on her mouth and it makes her stomach feel queasy.

“You’re welcome,” George says, sounding pleased with himself. “We should probably stay here for a moment or two longer, just to make sure she’s gone.”

Y/N nods, her head tilting back so she can look at George’s face. She examines his features closely, trying to commit them to memory. After her realization earlier in the week she had spent every moment trying not to think about George, but now that they’re standing there so close he’s the only thing she can think about.

George clears his throat suddenly, breaking Y/N from her thoughts. “We’re uh, we’re probably good to go.”

“Yeah,” she agrees softly, trying not to let the disappointment she feels seep into her voice.

George lingers a moment longer, before he pulls away and slowly opens the door to their hiding spot. Y/N watches as he checks the hallway and follows him out when the coast is clear.

“Well um. Thanks for that,” she stutters, rubbing the back of her neck. “I’ll see you around, I guess.” Y/N starts to walk away, but she pauses when George follows behind her. She turns to look at him. “What are you doing?”

“You might still be up to something. I should follow you, just to make sure,” he responds confidently.

Y/N rolls her eyes but doesn’t say anymore, not wanting her giddiness to become noticeable. They walk side by side silently with Y/N glancing at George every few steps. As they reach the landing Y/N goes to turn down the corridor that will lead her down into the dungeons when she runs smack into someone for the second time that night. Except this time, it’s much less enjoyable.

“Professor Umbridge! I am so sorry,” Y/N apologizes as she fixes her balance. She may hate the woman, but she’ll be nice to her if it’ll get her out of a detention.

“Oh Ms. Y/L/N it is quite alright,” she practically squeaks while smiling at Y/N. Y/N imagines it’s meant to seem sweet, but it looks more like an evil grin. Umbridge’s eyes suddenly narrow as she looks past Y/N at George. “Mr. Weasley! Out in the corridors past curfew again I see. That’ll be detention with me, Monday and Tuesday evening.”

Y/N can hear George sputter behind her, and she turns around, cringing at the angry look on his face. “What about Y/N?” he asks angrily. “She’s out past curfew as well!”

Umbridge tuts, moving past Y/N as she heads back towards her office. “Yes, but Ms. Y/L/N is Head Girl I’m sure she has a good reason for being out in the halls.” Umbridge puts her hand up to stop George from responding. “Now that is enough out of you, Mr. Weasley. I suggest you head back to your common room before I make your detention a whole week.”

They both watch as Umbridge walks away and when Y/N turns to look at George, he’s already watching her. “I’m really sorry about that, George,” she says quietly.

George scoffs. “Yeah whatever.” He stalks off then, and it takes everything in Y/N to not follow behind him.

As Y/N enters the common room her plan is to stalk off to her dorm and get in bed as quick as possible. She’s gone through a whirlwind of emotions over the past few hours and all she wants to do is fall asleep, so she doesn’t have to feel any of them. All of that changes however, since when Y/N finally steps into the common room there is music blaring and people are everywhere.

Y/N makes eye contact with Adrian across the crowd and he clumsily waves her over. She slowly makes her way through the crowd. The air is heavy and hot from all of the people and it smells of firewhiskey. When she finally reaches Adrian, he stumbles over his own feet as he pulls her closer and she notices Marcus is seated on the couch with Daphne sprawled out across his lap; all of her friends are clearly very, very drunk.

“Y/N! You made it!” Daphne yells happily when she notices Y/N’s arrival. She wobbles as she gets out of Marcus’ lap and practically falls into Y/N, giving her a tight hug.

“Someone’s having a good time,” Y/N says with a laugh. Drunk Daphne is one of Y/N’s favorite things, and it’s rare that she gets to see it. Daphne is always prim and proper. She never has a hair out of place and she rarely lets herself goof off with her friends; she’s always their voice of reason. So, when she lets loose, she really goes for it, and it always leaves Y/N in hysterics.

“Where’ve you been? Party started ages ago,” Marcus says slowly, his words slurring together. He grabs Daphne’s hands and tries to pull her into his lap, but they’re both so drunk that they end up falling over, and Daphne somehow ends up on the ground with Marcus on top of her.

Y/N and Adrian burst out in laughter, with Adrian leaning on Y/N for support. His drink sloshes in his hand, and Y/N takes it from him to avoid it spilling everywhere. She eyes his glass warily, trying to decide if she wants to join her friends in drunk land. Her plan had been to sleep away her emotions but drinking them away will work just as well.

“I guess I have some catching up to do then.” Y/N downs the entire glass in one go, her warm bed long forgotten.

A few hours and far too many glasses of Firewhiskey later the party has died down and Y/N is slumped over in the corner of the common room, cradled in a large pile of pillows that Adrian had assembled for her. Daphne and Marcus had disappeared several minutes ago, probably to make out somewhere and once they had Adrian moved from the nearby couch to join Y/N. He’s laying on his back, head in Y/N’s lap as he listens to her complain about George Weasley.

“He’s just so annoying,” she drawls, her words coming out fairly jumbled. Y/N has said the same sentence at least five times in the past 10 minutes, but she’s too drunk to remember or care. She’s been rambling on about George and every mildly annoying this he’s done since the moment they’ve met and she’s having a hard time remembering what she’s already mentioned. “And his face, don’t even get me started on his face.”

When Adrian groans she smacks him on the forehead. “Can’t you talk about something else,” he murmurs. “Anything else, please.”

Y/N smacks him on the forehead again before starting to run her fingers through his hair. It’s his only weakness and she’s hoping it’ll keep him quiet. “There is nothing else to talk about,” she says, her tone condescending. “It’s empty up here, no thoughts,” she giggles, hitting herself lightly in the head with her free hand. “No thoughts, just George Weasley and his face. His pretty, pretty face. And oh god his lips. They look so damn soft. D’you think their soft?”

Adrian hums, not really paying attention to the words coming out of Y/N’s mouth. She’d started to lightly scratch his scalp as she talked, and any ability he had to comprehend the English language disappeared. “Yeah sure, whatever.”

Y/N sighs dreamily, thinking about what it would be like to kiss George. “Bet he’s really good at it,” she muses. “And his hands,” she adds a moment later, practically moaning. “They’re so big and strong. He’s got good fingers too. Bet he knows how to use them.” Y/N rubs her thighs together involuntarily as she feels herself starting to get turned on. Y/N’s eyes start to close as the copious amount of alcohol she drank starts to catch up with her. “You wanna know something funny? I don’t hate George Weasley anymore.”

“Is that so?” Adrian mumbles, starting to drift off as well.

“Mhm,” she hums. “I’m pretty sure I’m in love with him.”

The next morning Y/N is awake far earlier than she’d like to be. Adrian’s elbow was digging into her back, and she tried to ignore it for as long as possible, but eventually she just gave up and pulled herself off of the floor.

Her head is pounding, she feels groggy and she desperately wants to crawl into her bed. But her stomach grumbles loudly and so instead of dragging her body down the staircase that would lead to her dorm, she drags herself towards the portrait hole, still in the clothes she had on yesterday.

When Y/N finally makes it to the Great Hall she practically crawls over to the Slytherin table and plops down in the first open seat. Thankfully it’s still early, so not many people are around and it’s fairly quiet. She starts to grab random food, not really caring what it is. She’s cursing herself for challenging Adrian to a drinking contest as she goes to grab the pitcher of orange juice, but a large hand beats her to it.

“George?” she asks in surprise when she looks up.

He doesn’t say anything as he fills her goblet up for her. He takes a seat across from her and fills his own goblet before he starts to pile eggs on his plate. “Yes?” he answers casually, as if he eats breakfast with Y/N every morning.

“What are you doing here?” Y/N watches George as he begins to eat, her eyes searching his face for some kind of hint of what he’s up to. George shrugs as a light laugh tumbles from his mouth.

“Eating breakfast?” he asks, gesturing to his plate like it’s obvious. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

Y/N rolls her eyes playfully, watching as he grabs an apple. She watches as his fingers wrap around it and she practically drools. A tingle runs down her spine as she imagines his fingers wrapping around something else.

“Obviously I can see that you’re eating,” she says a moment later when her thoughts become PG. “I meant what are you doing sitting here. With me. At the Slytherin table.”

George smirks at her. “Why? Do I make you nervous?” His lips wrap around the apple as he takes a bite, and Y/N has to take a bite of her muffin to stop herself from moaning right there in the middle of the Great Hall.

George’s hair is ruffled from sleep, and he looks cozy in the homemade jumper he’s wearing. His eyes are soft, and his lips look even softer. Y/N is dreaming about what it would feel like to lean across the table and kiss him, when she realizes that he asked her a question.

“Not at all,” she says, her voice shaking. “It just isn’t like you, that’s all. Besides last night when you left it seemed like you were angry at me,” she trails off, her voice soft. She looks down at her plate to avoid his gaze.

“I’m sorry about that, Y/N,” George admits sheepishly. Y/N’s skin tingles when he nudges her leg with his foot under the table. She looks up to meet his gaze, instantly returning his warm smile. “It’s not your fault Umbridge is a toad.”

Y/N laughs, completely entranced by George. “I should have said something. Made up an excuse for you.” She worries her bottom lip between her teeth for a moment. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, waving away her apology. They both just look at each other, the food on their plates long forgotten. Y/N lets her gaze wander to George’s lips again as she thinks about kissing him. She starts to involuntarily inch closer and to her surprise, George starts doing the same thing.

“Uh, Y/N?”

Y/N and George jump apart, startled by the sudden intrusion. Y/N looks over to see Astoria standing next to her, clearly surprised by what she had just witnessed. Y/N feels her cheeks heating up, and she fidgets in her seat.

“Hey, Astoria. What’s up?” Y/N asks, trying to sound casual, like her best friend’s little sister didn’t just catch her about to kiss George in the middle of the Great Hall.

“Daphne is asking for you. She’s throwing up in the dorm bathroom.”

Y/N rolls her eyes with a huff. “Of course, she is, poor girl can’t handle her alcohol.” She stands suddenly, nodding awkwardly at George. “Weasley,” she says curtly. She gives a wayward glance to Astoria before she heads for the exit, trying to walk as quickly as possible without looking like she’s running away.

“And you don’t remember anything?” Y/N questions Adrian as they head up to breakfast on Monday morning. After she fled the Great Hall yesterday morning she’d spent the rest of the day with Daphne going between the bathroom in their dorm and her bed, with Astoria sneaking in food for them. As she sat holding Daphne’s hair back Y/N had a chance to replay the events of Saturday night, and all of the things she had said to Adrian about George became clear to her. She was panicking all night, hoping that he didn’t remember any of what she had said.

Adrian nods. “Not a thing. Last thing I remember is you challenging me to a drinking contest. Everything after that is completely blank. Probably due to the 10 shots we took,” he says with a laugh. “I was so confused when I woke up in the common room.”

Y/N breathes a sigh of relief. She’s barely come to terms with the fact that George Weasley is no longer her mortal enemy, but someone she truly cares deeply for, so she is definitely not ready to share that with her friends.

“Why do you care so much? You confess your love for me or something?” Adrian asks as they enter the Great Hall.

Y/N lets her eyes scan the Gryffindor table, a pink blush forming on her cheeks when she spots George. He looks prim and proper in his school robes and his hair is neat. She bites her lip, imagining what it would be like to fuss up his hair with her hands with their bodies pressed together so tightly that their uniforms wrinkled. When George suddenly makes eye contact with her she looks away, bringing her attention back to Adrian.

“Nothing like that,” she insists, shoving him playfully. “I was just rambling on and on. I sounded like an idiot, most of it didn’t even make sense.”

“What didn’t make sense?” Daphne asks as Y/N and Adrian sit across from her and Marcus.

“The things I rambled on about in Adrian’s ear on Saturday after you two disappeared,” Y/N says with a laugh. She reaches for the orange juice, a small smile appearing on her lips as it reminds her of George.

“Aw you were rambley drunk? How cute. I’m sad I missed it,” Marcus teases.

Y/N throws a grape at him. “If you weren’t so busy sucking face with Daphne, you could have witnessed it.” Marcus and Daphne both blush at that, causing Adrian and Y/N to laugh. “I don’t know why you’re laughing, Pucey. You were cuddly drunk. I ran my hand through your hair, and you were practically mewling.”

Adrian blushes and bats at Y/N’s hand as she pinches his cheek. “Thank god I don’t remember that then.”

Unlike last week, Y/N spends most of her time on Monday and Tuesday trying to get close to George. She heads to meals a tad earlier than her friends, hoping that he’ll join her briefly. She gets to class early, hoping that he may arrive on his own and they can talk. But every time she tries she either doesn’t happen to run into him or he’s too busy messing around with Fred to notice her presence.

“Oof. Sorry,” Y/N grunts as she runs into someone. One of the Ravenclaw Prefects is sick, so Y/N volunteered to spend most of her Tuesday night patrolling the halls of the castle. Patrolling was one of her favorite duties as a Prefect, since it gave her time to just be by herself and think. She had let her mind wander to George, and she was in the middle of quite the raunchy daydream.

“What are you doing? Trying to mow me down?” the person asks with a chuckle.

“George, hey,” she greets airily. Y/N takes a step back so she can look up at him, a dopey smile on her face. “What are you doing out here? Kinda late, innit?”

“Maybe I’m here to see you,” he responds, causing Y/N to look away and blush. “I was serving my detention with Umbridge,” he reminds her, gesturing towards the corridor he had just come down.

She glances at her watch before looking back to him. “And she just let you out now? What did she have you do, polish all those weird cat plates?”

George chuckles. “Writing lines, actually.”

“Must have been enough to fill a book with how late it is,” she jokes as they start to walk together. George fidgets beside her, and she gives him a look. “You alright?”

George hums and absentmindedly brings a hand up to run through his hair. Y/N’s eyes widen when she notices the back of his hand is bleeding, and she grabs it before he has a chance to hide it. “It’s not as bad as it looks,” he mumbles, trying to pull his hand away.

Y/N tightens her grip, too focused on his injury to think about how perfect his hand feels in hers. “What is this, George? How did this happen?”

George sighs. “Umbridge had me use her special quill to write my lines.”

Y/N ghosts her finger over the wound, giving George an apologetic look when he winces. As she examines the wound she can make out what is it, the wound in his hand spells out ‘I must not break the rules’ in his messy handwriting. A sudden wave of rage washes over Y/N and she releases George’s hand so she can stomp towards Umbridge’s office.

“Y/N what are you doing?” George asks as he follows, though he’s pretty sure he knows that answer.

“I’m going to go give that toad a piece of my mind. That’s how she punishes people. Torture? That’s mental.”

George catches up to her quickly, and he wraps his fingers around her wrist, pulling her into his chest. He wraps his arms around her shoulders, holding her tightly against him. She breathes in his scent, wanting to just melt into his embrace. But she resists the urge and struggles against it, desperately trying to get out.

“Let me go, George,” she grumbles, wiggling in his grip.

“Absolutely not, Y/N. What good is yelling at her going to do? All that’s going to do is get you in detention as well and I’m not going to let you do that to yourself.”

Y/N wiggles against his grip for a few more moments before she gives up, her anger deflating. She relaxes in George’s arms and buries her face in his chest. She feels lightheaded as she takes slow, deep breaths, enjoying being this close to George. They stand like that for a few minutes, just enjoying being in each other’s presence, only breaking apart when they hear the door to Umbridge’s office open.

“Shit,” George whispers. He releases Y/N from his grip so he can grab her hand, intertwining their fingers. “Quick, follow me.” George leads them down the hallway and through a few different corridors before he stops in front of a tapestry.

“What are you doing?” she asks as the sound of footsteps echoes through the empty space.

George shushes her, and Y/N watches in amazement as he taps his wand to the tapestry, and it swings to the side, revealing a hole in the wall.

“Woah, this is so cool,” she comments as George pulls her in behind him. The tapestry immediately closes behind them, and George waves his wand so the torches that line the walls light up. “How do you know about this place?”

George shrugs, leaning up against the wall. “Fred and I have explored the entire castle. There isn’t a secret passageway or hidden corridor that we haven’t found.”

They stand there in silence while Y/N looks around the small passageway. She can feel George’s eyes on her and she’s doing everything she can to not return his gaze. Her body feels like it’s on fire, the feeling of George’s grip on her shoulders still fresh in her mind.

“You know if you want to spend time alone with me all you have to do is ask,” she teases a moment later, finally looking at George. She’s leaning on the wall opposite him, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. She starts to fiddle with a stray string on the bottom hem of her skirt, needing to keep her hands busy to avoid wrapping them around George’s tie to pull him close. “You don’t have to keep pulling me into dark rooms.”

George looks Y/N up and down, a smirk forming on his face. “Is that so? After you practically ran away from me at breakfast on Sunday I didn’t think you’d want to be alone with me.” He sounds confident, but Y/N can tell that there’s an underlying tinge of insecurity in his voice.

Y/N frowns and pushes away from the wall so she can take a small step towards him. “I tried to catch you alone all day yesterday and today,” she says softly. “But every time I tried you were with your stupid brother.”

“Well every time I tried to catch you alone you were with your stupid friends,” he says with a chuckle, copying her frustrated tone. George takes a small step towards her, so there’s only a few feet between them.

“I’m sorry, by the way. For running away from you the other day. Astoria startled me and I panicked,” she pauses, taking another small step forward. They’re standing so close that Y/N can smell him, and her brain goes fuzzy. “I should have stayed,” she admits quietly.

George licks his lips as he takes a final small step forward. They’re now only a few centimeters apart, and he grips Y/N’s hip softly. “What would have happened?” His eyes flick down to Y/N’s lips before meeting hers again. “If you had stayed, what would have happened?”

Y/N can feel her heart pounding in her chest, and her face is warm. “I. I would have.”

But she doesn’t get to finish her sentence. George leans down and presses their lips together, kissing her sweetly as his other hand comes up to rest on her neck. Y/N feels lightheaded as her lips start to move with George’s, her arms winding around his neck. George backs them up as he deepens the kiss, pressing Y/N up against the wall. She moans as her back hits the hard stone, allowing George to lick into her mouth.

“I would have done that,” she finishes once George pulls away, her breathing heavy.

George chuckles before kissing her again briefly. “You sound so fucking hot when you moan,” he teases, kissing her again as her cheeks flush pink.

Y/N returns his kiss eagerly, letting her fingers tangle in the hair at the base of his neck as both his hands come to rest on her hips. Her brain is in overdrive, trying to process everything that’s happening. She wants to commit it all to memory, in case this is the only time it happens. She’s thinking about how good of a kisser he is, and how perfectly their mouths fit together when George pulls away.

“Bet you would sound even hotter moaning my name,” he whispers in her ear, before he starts to trail kisses down Y/N’s neck.

A soft whine leaves Y/N’s lips as she tilts her head back, giving George more room to kiss. She tugs his hair and the groan he lets out against her neck goes right to her core and arousal starts to blossom in her stomach. His grip on her hips tightens as he begins to suck a mark into her neck. “George,” she moans, her eyes fluttering closed.

Y/N can feel George smirk into her neck before he pulls away and reconnects their lips. He pushes their bodies together tighter, shoving her legs apart with one of his own. She instinctively grinds down against it to get relief from her aching pussy, causing both of them to moan lowly.

“Holy fuck, Y/N,” George growls as he breaks their kiss. He looks over her as she continues to grind against his thigh, in awe of how beautiful she is. Her face is flushed red, her lips are swollen from his kisses and breathy moans are falling from her mouth as her hips move back and forth.

Y/N tugs her bottom lip between her teeth to try and contain the noises that are creeping up her throat as she works towards her climax. Her hips move sloppily, giving her clit the perfect amount of friction against George’s muscular thigh. “Fuck,” she breathes and opens her eyes so she can gaze into his, a moan falling from her lips when she sees how dark his eyes are.

George kisses her for a brief moment, his cock starting to harden in his trousers. He craves the feeling of her lips, but the noises coming from her mouth are too intoxicating to cut off. “You look so pretty, darling, getting yourself off on my thigh.”

George’s words only turn Y/N on more and she starts to move her hips faster, desperate for her release. “George,” she moans, tugging on his hair again. “Please, please, George,” she begs.

George presses kisses to Y/N’s jaw as his grip on her hips tightens. He pulls her down harder against his thigh and smirks when she whines loudly. “What do you want darling? Hm?”

“I’m so close,” she gasps. “Please, George. Can I,” her words turn into a moan as George forces her down harder against this thigh again. Y/N can feel her climax approaching and her body feels like it’s on fire. “Please, let me come, George. Please,” she begs breathily.

George’s cock twitches in his trousers and he groans as he realizes what Y/N is begging him for. Permission. “Go on darling, come for me.”

George’s voice is husky, and as soon as the words leave his mouth Y/N’s hips stutter as she reaches her climax, George’s name falling from her mouth. She tugs his hair lightly as she comes, pleasure washing over her like a wave. George rubs her hips and presses open mouthed kisses to her jaw and neck as her hips start to slow down.

“Oh my god,” Y/N pants, resting her forehead against George’s shoulder. Her legs feel like jelly and a moan falls from her mouth when she shifts on George’s thigh and her sensitive clit rubs against her panties.

George laughs lightly and brings a hand up to stroke Y/N’s hair. “That was so fucking hot,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to her temple. He removes his leg from between hers but keeps a tight grip on her hip to make sure she’s steady. “Like really fucking hot, Y/N. Holy shit.”

Y/N buries her face in George’s neck, pressing a few light kisses to his skin. “No, it was embarrassing,” she mumbles. She’d never felt the need to ask for permission to come with any of the other people she’d been intimate with, but there was something about George. Y/N felt comfortable with him, she felt safe enough to let her walls down; to be completely vulnerable to him.

“Hey, look at me,” he says softly. George waits for Y/N to pick her head up and look up at him before he continues. “You will never have anything to be embarrassed about with me. Ever.”

Instead of responding, Y/N kisses him desperately and reaches down to palm his hardening erection through his trousers. George groans into the kiss, his hips automatically rolling to meet her movements. Her lips start to kiss across his jaw and down George’s neck, nibbling lightly.

Y/N pauses her kissing so she can lean up and whisper into George’s ear. “Your turn,” she teases. George curses softly as she removes her hand from his crotch, and she places a quick kiss on his lips before she pushes him away slightly. Y/N slowly sinks down to her knees and starts to work at the button of George’s trousers.

“God you are gorgeous,” he says dreamily as he tangles his fingers in her hair.

Y/N can feel the blush creeping up her face as she undoes George’s trousers. She looks up at him as she pulls his trousers and boxers down together just enough to free his cock. Y/N slowly wraps her hand around the base of his cock, a smirk forming on her face when he groans.

George’s grip on her hair tightens as Y/N begins to slowly stroke him. “Merlin that feels good,” George moans, causing Y/N to increase her pace.

She leans forward and takes him into her mouth, her hand continuing to stroke what she can’t fit in her mouth. George is quite well endowed, and Y/N rubs her thighs together as she starts to bob her head, imaging what he’d feel like inside her.

“Such a good girl. Sucking my cock so well,” George praises. His breathing starts to get heavier as Y/N’s tongue starts to swirl around his sensitive head and when she looks up at him he has to look away to avoid coming right then and there. Y/N looks absolutely sinful with her lips wrapped around his cock, and George is sure that image will be imprinted in his brain forever.

George’s grunts echo throughout the passageway as Y/N starts to move faster, wanting George to fill her mouth with his release. She takes him down even further, gagging slightly when the tip of his cock hits the back of her throat. George uses the grip he has on Y/N’s hair to help guide her head, his hips starting to slowly meet her movement.

Y/N hums in approval and pulls her head off of his cock for a moment to catch her breath. She strokes him with her hand for a moment, her thumb circling his sensitive head. “Fuck my mouth George, please,” she begs, before swallowing him down again.

“Such a dirty girl aren’t you Y/N?” he teases as he wraps his hand in her hair, gripping it tightly. “Such a slut for my cock already, hm?” He lets out a groan as he starts to move her head on his cock, his hips meeting each stroke. “Fuck, darling. Your mouth feels amazing,” he moans, starting to fuck her mouth faster. “Good girl,” he praises as she gags around him.

Y/N can’t help but slip her hand under her skirt and into her panties, letting her index and middle finger toy with her clit. George’s cock is heavy against her tongue and his dirty words are sending shivers down her spine and into her core. She’s still sensitive from her previous orgasm, and she moans around George’s cock as drool drips down her chin. She starts to work her clit faster, her second orgasm quickly approaching.

“Getting close, darling,” he grunts. “Gonna shoot my load right into your pretty little mouth.” George watches as Y/N squirms, a wicked grin forming on his mouth. “Are you touching yourself darling?” A shiver runs down his spine and he slams his cock into the back of her throat harder when she hums around him. “Such a dirty little girl you are, Y/N.” His tone is patronizing, and it only turns Y/N on more. “Love having my cock in your mouth that much, hm?”

Y/N whines around his cock, her hips moving in time with her finger’s movements on her clit. She brings her free hand up under her shirt and bra so she can massage her breast, her fingers pinching her nipple. Her climax is building rapidly, and Y/N looks up at George her eyes full of arousal and desperation.

George bites his lip as he looks down at Y/N, knowing exactly what she needs. His strokes become shallow as his own orgasm approaches, a low moan falling from his lips. “Go on, darling. Be a good girl and come for me.”

Y/N’s whole-body shakes as she comes, her second orgasm even stronger than the first. Her lips clamp down around George’ cock even tighter, bringing him to his climax as well. He pulls her hair as he empties himself into Y/N’s mouth, her name spilling from his mouth in hard pants. She continues to toy with her clit lightly as aftershocks of pleasure continue to roll through her body.

George loosens his grip on her hair as he slowly pulls out, his mouth running dry as saliva and some of his cum dribble down Y/N’s chin. He watches as she swallows his release, his cock twitching at the sight. He tucks his cock back into his trousers, wincing as the head brushes up against the fabric. Y/N looks up at him as she wipes the drool from her chin, looking far too innocent after what just happened. Her lips are red and swollen, almost begging for him to kiss her.

He releases her hair and helps Y/N to her feet. His arms wrap around her waist and he brings their lips together. They kiss slowly and messily, both of them too tired to care. George licks into her mouth, not caring that he can taste himself on her tongue. They stand there kissing for a few minutes, only breaking apart when the need for air becomes too much.

“You think the coast is clear?” Y/N asks with a giggle, her voice hoarse.

George chuckles and presses a kiss to her forehead. “I certainly hope so, because I’m absolutely knackered and if I have to spend another minute in here with you after what just happened I’m not going to be able to control myself.”

Wednesday morning arrives far too quickly for Y/N’s liking. She had fallen asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow, but when Daphne starts to shake her awake it feels like she hadn’t even slept at all.

“Five more minutes, mum, “ she groans. Her throat feels raw and Y/N can’t help but blush as the memories of last night run through her mind. She had wanted to confess everything to George as they snuck out of the passageway, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. As they stepped out into the empty hallway the haze of sexual tension around them broke, and when George headed off back to his dorm with nothing more than a wink and a kiss on the cheek Y/N’s stomach sank.

Y/N had felt nothing but pure joy after her and George’s activities and her heart felt as if it would beat out of her chest. She knew that she was in love with him, and after he had been so tender with her she was sure that he returned her feelings. But after he left her behind so quickly, she couldn’t help but think it had all been in her head.

“Five more minutes will turn to 10, which will turn into you missing breakfast. And you know how you get when you’re hungry, so get your ass out of bed,” Daphne scolds lightly.

Y/N groans but rolls out of bed, her heart heavy and her knees aching.

“What do you think they’re talking about?” Daphne whispers to Y/N as they enter the Great Hall, gesturing towards Fred and George.

Y/N allows herself to look quickly, her heart rate increasing as her eyes pass over George. Memories of last night swim to the surface, and she swallows hard, willing them away. The twins have their heads together and they’re talking feverishly, clearly up to something. “Dunno really,” she answers, tearing her gaze away. “Probably planning their next prank or something.” Y/N and Daphne sit down with Adrian and Marcus and she grabs some toast, not really feeling up to eating.

“So, what are you gonna do?” Daphne asks as they start to eat.

Y/N gives her a look. “What am I gonna do about what?”

Daphne rolls her eyes. “Come one, it’s been what, two weeks since the twins have done something to you? They’ve gotta be over there cooking up some grand scheme against you.”

Y/N goes to respond, but she suddenly feels sick as George’s actions over the past few days start to make sense. He wasn’t in love with her, he was trying to embarrass her? Use her? Get information on her for him and Fred to use against her? She wasn’t exactly sure, but her heart sinks into her stomach. Whatever it was it couldn’t be good.

“I think I’m gonna head to Potions early,” she says suddenly, standing up. Adrian, Marcus and Daphne give her a look.

“You haven’t even eaten anything,” Adrian says, trying to pull her back down.

She bats his hand away and gathers her bag. “I’m not really that hungry. I’ll see you guys later.”

Without another word she’s heading out of the Great Hall, her friends and George all casting her back worried glances.

Y/N spends all day ignoring George despite his efforts to get her to pay attention to him. He spends all of Potions throwing rolled up pieces of parchment at her back, he tries to pull faces at her all during lunch and he spends most of charms slipping her notes. It had taken all of her willpower not to let him break her down. She’s so desperately in love with him that she’s almost willing to let him break her heart just so she can be close to him again.

“Finally, I’ve been looking for you all evening.”

Y/N doesn’t look up from her Herbology assignment as George takes a seat across from her. Her friends had been giving her worried glances all day, so after a quick dinner she tucked herself away in a corner of the library to avoid the confrontation she’s sure she’d get in the common room. She had figured she’d be safe from George as well, since Y/N is sure she’s never seen him, or Fred enter the library in the seven years they’ve been at school.

“What’s going on with you?” George asks softly when she doesn’t say anything. He’d been looking forward to seeing Y/N in the morning, and after her weird behavior at breakfast he had tried everything to get her attention.

Y/N glances at George quickly before she turns back to her assignment. “I could say the same to you,” she says coldly. When George doesn’t say anything Y/N sighs and puts her quill down, finally looking at George fully. “What were you and Fred talking about this morning? During breakfast.”

George taps his fingers against the table, his eyes starting deeply into Y/N’s. “He was asking me why I got back from my detention so late last night.” His cheeks are flushed pink and Y/N bites her lip to keep from smiling.

“What did you tell him? Did you tell him how easy I was? How desperate I was for you? How I touched myself? That I asked you for permission to finish?” she sneers, suddenly filled with rage.

George’s jaw practically drops to the table, his eyes widening in shock. “What? Why would I say any of that to him?” George asks, watching as Y/N starts to gather up her things.

“Because last night was just some big joke to you, wasn’t it?” she asks, as if the answer is obvious. “You don’t have feelings for me, you were just trying to get me into bed so you could have blackmail material or something. And I fell for it. Because I’m a big dumb idiot who is too in love to realize when she’s being played.”

Before George can even process what Y/N has just said she’s gone, tears streaming down her face and her heart broken in her chest.

“What’s wrong Y/N?” Daphne asks, taking a seat on the edge of her bed.

She isn’t completely surprised that Daphne had come to find her. When Y/N returned from the library, she was full on crying. She had ignored her friend’s attempts to talk to her and stormed right to her dorm room so she could crawl into her bed and sob. Daphne starts to stroke her hair, and Y/N wipes away some of her tears.

“I’m in love with George Weasley,” Y/N mumbles into her pillow.

Daphne’s hand pauses. “Come again?”

“I’m in love with George Weasley,” Y/N huffs, turning over so she’s facing Daphne. Her whole-body tenses, waiting for Daphne to laugh or make some kind of snide comment. But it doesn’t happen. Instead Daphne starts to stroke her hair again as she wipes away some of her tears.

“Honestly that’d make me cry as well,” she says with a laugh, trying to get Y/N to smile. When it works and Y/N cracks a small smile Daphne continues. “So, what happened? Did he say something rude? Because if he did I swear to you I’ll have Adrian and Marcus break into Gryffindor tower and beat him up.”

Y/N can’t help but let out a quiet laugh. She sits up in bed, wiping away the last few tears. “I ran into him last night when I was doing my rounds. And Umbridge almost caught us so we ran and hid in this weird secret passageway and um,” she pauses, swallowing thickly. “We kissed. And fooled around a little. Or a lot.”

“And that’s why you’re crying? Was it bad? Did you fake your orgasm?” Daphne teases.

Y/N rolls her eyes as a blush starts to form on her cheeks. “No, that’s not it. It was quite enjoyable I’ll have you know,” she says playfully, shoving Daphne’s shoulder lightly. “It was what happened afterward.”

“He said something stupid, didn’t he? My offer still stands, I will have Adrian and Marcus go beat him up,” Daphne says her tone serious.

“He didn’t really say anything,” Y/N explains, choosing to ignore Daphne’s threats for now. “But you said it yourself this morning at breakfast. He was talking with Fred, probably planning some prank on me.” Y/N pauses to swallow the lump in her throat and blink away the tears that threaten to spill down her cheeks. “It was all probably just some prank or set up or blackmail or something. I mean why would he wanna be with me,” she says lamely, looking down at her hands.

Daphne scoffs and puts her finger under Y/N’s chin, forcing her to return her gaze. “If George Weasley doesn’t want to be with you then he is a big fat idiot. Y/N you are amazing. And beautiful and smart and way too nice for your own good. You may have questionable taste in men, but I’ve been snogging Marcus since third year so I’m not really one to judge.”

Y/N laughs and pulls Daphne into a hug. Her heart still aches for George, but she feels a tiny bit better knowing that she has Daphne on her side.

Despite the fact that Y/N has been ignoring George all day, she finds herself heading to the Room of Requirement on Wednesday evening for a DA meeting. There are nervous butterflies in her stomach as she approaches but she doesn’t turn back. The DA is one of the only good things she’s had going on this year, and she’ll be damned if she lets George Weasley ruin that for her. Y/N had felt his eyes on her all day, and she hates to admit that it made her feel lightheaded.

She stops outside of the room of requirement to collect herself. Y/N takes a few deep breaths, trying to clear the thoughts of George from her mind. She’s semi-successful and she holds her head high as she throws the door open and steps inside.

“What the fuck?” she says, her eyes wandering around the room as the door shuts behind her. Y/N had certainly not been expecting the scene around her when she walked in. The room is dimly lit, with most of the lighting coming from candles that are floating around the room. There’s no furniture or practice dummies in sight, and the only other person in the room is George. He’s standing smack in the middle of the room watching her, a small smile on his face.

“I couldn’t think of any other way to get you alone,” he says after a moment, reaching a hand out towards Y/N. “So, I had Hermione send an alert out to your Galleon and hoped that you would show up.”

Y/N walks further into the room cautiously, still unsure as to what exactly is going on. She stands a few feet away from George, resisting the urge to take his hand and fall into his chest. “Okay but why?.” She pauses, her eyes scanning the room again. “If this is some kind of elaborate set up and Fred is about to jump out of somewhere I swear to Merlin George I will kill you.”

George chuckles and shakes his head, taking a step towards Y/N. When she doesn’t flinch, he takes another one. “I promise you; Y/N. Fred is nowhere near here.” He bites his lip, looking at Y/N closely. “This is just me, desperately trying to fix whatever mess I got us into.” When she doesn’t say anything George continues, needing to fill the awkward silence of the room. “Tuesday night was incredible. Best night of my life, hands down. I thought, I thought things would be different with us, afterwards. But then you didn’t even look at me all day yesterday and last night in the library that stuff you said,” he cuts himself off, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I clearly did something wrong, but I’ve spent the past 24 hours thinking about everything I did, and I can’t seem to figure it out.”

“You didn’t say anything,” she says quietly after she lets George’s words soak in. When George raises his eyebrow in confusion she sighs. “On Tuesday, after everything that happened,” she clears her throat, trying to will the blush on her cheeks away. “When we were leaving you didn’t say anything. You just kind of left. I thought that it was just a one-time thing, that it didn’t mean the same to you as it did to me,” she admits quietly.

Y/N lets her eyes wander around the room, needing to look anywhere except for George’s face. Y/N likes to keep walls up around herself. She makes exceptions for her friends and her parents, the people she loves, but she keeps them up around others. She doesn’t like to show weakness, she doesn’t want to give people the opportunity to hurt her. On Tuesday Y/N had let all of those walls crumble to the ground the second George had kissed her and it felt incredible. She felt like she could truly be herself around him, and as much as she wishes she could build those walls up around her again it’s too late. Y/N has no choice but to stand here in this room and let George in.

“And then I just got all in my head,” she continues a moment later, finally letting herself look at George. Her heart is fluttering, and she can’t help but notice how good he looks. “When I went to breakfast that morning and you were whispering with Fred it looked like you guys were plotting something, like a prank or something. And it made me think that Tuesday was just some stupid prank. That you were gonna use the things I said against me, to embarrass me or something,” she mutters.

“Darling,” George starts, taking the last few steps to close the distance between them. He cups her cheek with one hand while the other reaches for one of hers. Y/N lets him grab her hand, and he intertwines their fingers. “I should have said something that night. There was so many things I wanted to say. But I didn’t want to overwhelm you. After that night we spent in detention I started to feel differently towards you. I knew you felt something too, but I wasn’t sure if you had realized it yet or not. So, when we left the passageway that night I wanted to give you time, to process everything.”

“I feel like such an idiot,” Y/N admits with a small smile. “I should have just said something instead of letting myself overthink it. I don’t like letting people in. But for some reason when I’m around you I can’t help but let you in. That night in detention I told you things not even Daphne knows. And then Tuesday, some of the things I said, I did,” she cuts herself off, a shiver running down her spine. “I’ve never let anyone see that side of me before and yet a few kisses from you had me blubbering like an idiot.”

“Blubbering like a wicked sexy idiot, darling,” George teases with a chuckle. He leans down and kisses her briefly. “I’m sorry, for not being clearer with my intentions.”

Y/N rolls her eyes, but there’s a warm smile on her face. “And what are those intentions?”

Her eyes flutter closed as George kisses her deeply, both of his hands landing on her bum, giving it a tight squeeze. She moans into the kiss and lets George’s tongue in to explore her mouth. She wraps her arms around George’s neck and pulls him flush to her body. George pulls away suddenly, with Y/N trying to chase his mouth.

George chuckles when she pouts at him. “To answer your question, darling. First, I’m going to fuck you into the mattress over there like the dirty little girl you are.” George pauses, pressing a kiss to Y/N’s lips as a shiver runs down her spine. “And then I’m going to hold you close and whisper how much I love you into your ear.”

Y/N pulls George’s face down and presses their lips together hotly, kissing him desperately. She jumps up, her legs wrapping around his waist and his hands gripping her bum tightly. George carries her over to the bed that had appeared at some point in the past few minutes and throws her down on it. He loosens his tie and throws it off over his head and starts to work on the buttons of his shirt. Y/N watches his fingers move, practically drooling as his pale chest becomes more and more exposed to her.

“What are you waiting for? Permission,” George teases, his voice gravelly and his eyes dark. “Get naked,” he demands a moment later when she still doesn’t move. “Let me see all of you.”

George’s voice causes goosebumps to appear all over Y/N’s body and her core starts to ache. She can already feel herself getting wet, and the way George is looking at her as she rids herself of her clothes is only making it worse.

In a matter of moments, they’re both naked, and Y/N can feel her skin flushing under George’s gaze. He’s standing by the edge of the bed, slowly stroking himself as his eyes run over her naked body. Her body is aching for his touch, and she squirms under his intense gaze. “Please, George,” she moans, one of her hands coming up to toy with her breasts.

In an instant George is on top of her, kissing her messily as his hands touch every inch of skin they can. He bats away the hand that’s palming her breast so he can take over, his fingers starting to toy with her sensitive nipple. Y/N moans into George’s mouth, arching her back to press herself up into him harder. George practically growls at her actions and his other hand grabs her left thigh, forcing her legs apart.

“What do you want, darling?” he asks hotly, his lips trailing kisses down her neck. “My fingers?” He releases her thigh and starts to ghost his fingers up her it towards her folds. “My mouth?” He latches onto her neck and starts to lightly suck, causing a sinful whine to leave her lips.

Y/N tangles her fingers in George’s hair, tugging lightly as she squirms under his touch. “Both, please,” she begs, her breath coming out in hard pants. George’s fingers have finally reached her core, and his index finger has started to slowly circle her clit.

“Both, hm? What a needy little girl you’re being, Y/N,” he chides, his mouth continuing to trail kisses down her neck and over her chest. “But how can I say no? Not when you’re being such a good girl and asking so nicely.”

Y/N moans. George’s thumb has started to rub soft circles on her clit while his mouth wraps around her breast, sucking her nipple lightly. When George had called her a good girl at the beginning of term it had filled her with rage, but now as he slowly pushes his index finger inside of her tight walls she thinks she could come just from him calling her that alone.

“Fuck, George,” she whines, clenching around his finger as he curls it inside of her. She can feel his smirk as he kisses down her stomach. Her hips start to move off of the bed as he starts to slowly fuck her with his finger. His free hand flies to her hip and pins it down against the bed.

“Don’t be so impatient, darling. I’m going to take my time with you,” he scolds. He pulls his finger out slowly, and when he pushes it back in another has joined it, causing Y/N to gasp. “You sound so pretty, darling. Such pretty noises,” he praises.

George moves down the bed as his lips ghost over her hip so he can position himself better for what’s about to happen. He stops his movements on her pussy suddenly, causing Y/N to whine at the loss. He grabs her thighs and pushes them farther apart, so she’s spread open for him. “Such a pretty pussy you have, darling,” he groans, his eyes gazing over her dripping folds. Y/N tries to shut her legs, but George’s grip tightens on her thighs, keeping them open. “Don’t be shy, darling,” he teases.

Y/N is writhing in George’s grasp, one hand is toying with her nipples while the other grips the bed sheets. “George, please,” she begs again, needing him to touch her. George chuckles and suddenly his mouth is on her, lightly sucking on her clit. “Oh fuck,” she shouts, her hand leaving her breast to tangle in George’s hair.

George’s tongue starts to tease Y/N’s clit, wrapping around the bud slowly before pulling away and coming to lightly flick at it. He wraps his arm around her left thigh as she begins to move her hips, forcing her back down against the bed. “Gonna need to get some rope to tie you up, keep you nice and open for me,” he murmurs before putting his mouth back on her aching core.

“Holy fuck, George,” Y/N moans as he suddenly plunges two fingers into her heat. She can’t help the sounds that are coming out of her mouth as George pleasures her, images of George tying her up floating in her mind. George hums in laughter as his fingers curl and brush up against Y/N’s sweet spot, causing her to moan again.

Y/N can feel her orgasm approaching, can feel the arousal building in her stomach. She wiggles her hips, trying to move away from George, and a squeal falls from her mouth when he pulls her even closer to his face. She grips his hair tightly and her toes curl as her orgasm approaches. Y/N yanks the sheets hard, her mouth opening and shutting unable to form a coherent thought due to George’s relentless pleasure.

“George please,” she sobs, her eyes screwing shut from the sheer amount of pleasure coursing through her body. Her legs are shaking as George licks at her core, his fingers hitting the spot inside her that drives her crazy with every thrust. “I need you. I need you to, George, please,” she begs. She’s teetering on the edge of her release, just needing that one final push that only George can provide.

“Need me to what, darling?” he asks coyly as he pulls his face away from her pussy. His thumb takes over the assault on her clit his tongue had been doing before, starting to rub it in hard circles.

“Please,” she begs again, tears starting to leak out the side of her eyes. Y/N has never been this turned on in her life. Her body is trembling, her need for release overwhelming every part of her.

George presses a few kisses to the hot skin on the inside of her thigh to hide his smile. Y/N looks absolutely ethereal as she wriggles in his grasp, begging him to let her come. Her hair is splayed out on the pillow behind her, and her neck looks like it’s begging to be bit. Her whole body is flushed, and a sheen of sweat has appeared over her skin.

“You are absolutely gorgeous, Y/N,” he compliments as he situates himself on top of her again. He leans on his forearm and presses their lips together briefly. “Such a good girl, darling. Go on be a good girl, come for me.”

George kisses her again as she comes, groaning as her walls tighten around his fingers. Y/N’s whole-body shakes as she comes, and George continues to slowly rub her clit as she comes down from her high. With one final curl of his fingers he removes them from her heat.

“You are a goddess,” he murmurs against her lips before he pulls away.

Y/N opens her eyes, smiling up at George. “And you’re a bloody fucking tease.”

George laughs and rolls onto his back, his arm winding around Y/N’s waist to pull her on top of him. Y/N giggles in delight, pressing their lips together in a heated kiss. She lets her hand trail along his chest as they kiss, pausing as she reaches his groin. “Now see if I really was a good girl,” she mocks her fingertips dancing on the skin just above the base of his cock. “I’d touch you but.” She sighs and brings her hand back up to rest on George’s chest. “I’m feeling kinda naughty.”

“Bold tactic for a girl who was just begging me to let her come a few seconds ago,” George responds playfully, leaning up to press their lips together again. Y/N squeals when George pulls her fully on top of him so she’s straddling his waist. “I know I said I was gonna fuck you into the mattress but,” he says with a sigh when he breaks their kiss. “I don’t know if naughty girls deserve my cock.”

Despite the fact that she had just come a few seconds ago, Y/N’s pussy is aching again. She pouts down at George, rolling her hips. A satisfied smirk appears on her face when he groans. “What if I promise to be a good girl?”

George rolls them over so she’s underneath him. “I think I can make an exception.” Y/N laughs as George kisses her and winds her legs around his waist. George lines himself up with her entrance, breaking their kiss so he can look at her. “Ready?” When Y/N nods George pushes his hips forward and slowly enters Y/N.

“Oh my god, George,” she gasps as her hands come up to grip his shoulders. George doesn’t stop until his hips are flush against Y/N’s bum.

“Fucking hell you’re tight, Y/N,” he groans, burying his face in her neck. He lets out another groan as Y/N’s walls clench around him.

“Fuck me George, please,” she demands, squeezing his shoulders.

George chuckles into her neck and pulls out of her halfway before he slams back in, starting to slowly fuck her. “Since you asked so nicely,” he teases, pressing an open mouth kiss to her jaw.

For a few minutes all the noise that can be heard is Y/N and George’s combined moans as well as skin slapping on skin. George grabs Y/N’s leg and throws it over his shoulder so he can fuck into her deeper and the head of his cock is now rubbing her sweet spot with every thrust.

“Oh fuck,” Y/N moans, scratching her nails down George’s back. “Feels so good, George. ‘M already close.”

“Fuck me too,” he growls, leaning down to whisper in her ear. “You feel so fucking good, darling.” He presses a few kisses into the skin below her ear. “Go on, darling. Come for me when you’re ready. Didn’t even need to touch your little clit, did I? Such a good girl, coming from just my cock.”

George’s words tip Y/N over the edge and she throws her head back, George’s name falling from her mouth. Her walls tighten and twitch around George, causing him to reach his climax as well. He empties himself inside of Y/N, his hips slowly rolling into her to help them both come down from their highs.

Once George’s cock has stopped twitching and Y/N’s breathing starts to slow down, George carefully pulls out of her and collapses on the bed next to her. George opens up his arm and Y/N rolls into his side, burying her face in the crook of his neck. She peppers soft kisses to the sweaty skin as George starts to rub her back.

“It’s not fair, you know,” George says as Y/N trails a few kisses up his neck and across his jaw.

Y/N pecks his lips softly. “What’s not fair?” she asks with a chuckle.

George pouts at her and she kisses him briefly again. “Every time we get intimate you get to come twice, and I only get to come once. That’s totally not fair.”

Y/N laughs and buries her face in George’s neck again. “Well maybe if you were a good boy I’d let you come more than once,” she teases.

George’s fingers dig into Y/N’s side as he holds her in place, tickling her mercilessly. Y/N shrieks with laughter, desperately trying to wiggle away from George’s grasp. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she laughs, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. George tickles her for another moment before he stops, one of his hands resting on the small of Y/N’s back and the other grabs hers.

“I love you,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

Y/N looks up at him and presses a kiss to the underside of his jaw. “I love you too.”

The next morning as Y/N drags George over to the Slytherin table for breakfast she can hear Ginny shouting at Ron.

“I told you, you absolute numpty! You owe me a Galleon!”

#George weasley #george weasley smut #George Weasley imagine #George Weasley fic #george weasley x reader #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #george weasley x y/n #george weasley fanfic #George Weasley fanfiction #gw #golden

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thesolferino · 4 years ago

Text

Hell On Earth

⤷ dream x f!reader.

⤷ genre: fluff

⤷ word count: 3.2k

⤷ requested: yes, by this lovely anon!

— summary: you barge into clay’s office to complain about his broken air conditioner, unaware that he’s streaming.

Florida was hell.

You liked to say it as a joke, during October when the rest of the world was freezing, during December when the insane temperatures finally went back under control, and the sun granted you its blessing of a refreshing gust of wind every now and then. You liked to say it as a joke, mostly, but God, did you mean it whenever summer would creep around the corner and you’d get reminded of why you told your boyfriend so often that the devil must’ve left hell, came down to America, and bought himself a nice penthouse in Florida.

It lived up to its title of the hottest state in the US, by far, considering the hellish temperatures that constantly made you dizzy whenever June rolled around. You had great air conditioning in your apartment, though, and as soon as the sun started burning skin, plants, water, and everything in its way, you and your college roommate would lounge at your place as the air conditioner blew cold wind and thank the lord (and the person who invented AC, bless his heart) for providing you with at least one blessing during these trying times.

So, of course that as soon as summer came about, your air conditioning conveniently broke.

Your roommate was out of the apartment within two days, flying to her family in Wisconsin, bidding you farewell as she left you to cook like a raw chicken in your shared apartment. Thankfully, you had a boyfriend - and what a boyfriend he was.

You don’t like to brag, but at these moments, you feel grateful to the universe and whoever else is looking over you for providing you with a rich boyfriend, with quite a big, echo-y house, and air conditioning made of pure heaven. As soon as your roommate packed your bags, you packed yours too, - if one backpack filled with makeup, your laptop, meds, underwear and hopes that he’d let you steal all of his clothes could count as “bags” - locked the apartment and left, ready to leave the AC on snowman temperature for two days minimum and ignore all his complaints.

Bad luck seemed to follow you everywhere, though, because you were there for merely three days when the air conditioning started stuttering.

You were sprawled on the cold sheets of his bed, listening to the low hum of the AC as you scrolled through your phone, his white T-shirt sticking to your back, the cold air cooling the sheen of sweat that covered your body, leaving goosebumps all over. One of your fingers started lazily petting Patches’ stomach, and you could faintly hear Clay talking in the background, the sounds coming from his office.

“Thank you for the gifted subs! Um, yeah, it’s really hot here, I can barely, like, breathe in here. I have the AC on at highest, but all it’s doing is giving me a headache. Even-even my water bottle is completely hot.” You heard him rant and chuckled, turning on your side and continuing to scroll through random videos.

You sort of tuned out his talking, knowing he’d most likely be cooped up in that office for hours before your shared dinner, and started watching random YouTube videos, ignoring your surroundings as you shoved your earbuds in your ears.

The longer the videos lasted, the more you felt like you were suffocating. The heat crawled up on you slowly, sneakily, almost unnoticeable yet undeniably there, hand made up of pure fire gripping at your throat tighter and tighter. It started off seamlessly, with you rolling around, trying to find a new cold spot on the sheets, to pulling at the shirt, trying to create cold air to soothe you, to wiping the sweat that basically covered your entire forehead, when your eyes finally peeled away from your phone and you realised you were basically choking in the heat, feeling like you’re breathing fire.

You lift your head off the bed way too quickly, head pounding, and look at the one thing meant to save you from this madness - just to see it leaking water down the wall, barely coughing out any air. Your head miserably falls back down on the bed, hands rubbing at your face, dangerously close to both crying and screaming in distress. After a few moments of self-wallowing, you get up and make your way over to your boyfriend’s office, being met with nothing but silence as you walked to it, happy he ended the stream so you could complain and wail to him, possibly cool down using the AC in his office.

You slam the door open, seeing him hunched over in his gaming chair, Minecraft open as usual, and as soon as he takes one headphone off, turns around and sends a surprised but oddly panicked gaze your way, you start ranting.

“Babe, you won’t believe what just happened.” you said, rubbing a hand over your face again, eyes closing as you feel the coldness - in comparison to the living hell that was his bedroom right now - of the room wash over you. You don’t even let him speak before you continue.

“The fucking AC in your bedroom just broke. It’s leaking right now.”

Clay looks like he wants to say fifteen words at once, and the first one that comes out is: “What?”

“I swear. I was watching something on my phone, and I realised it’s crazy hot, so I looked up and realised it’s broken. Why does this happen to me!” you complained, and he tried pulling his headphones off for a second but instead pulled the cord out of the computer entirely, letting you hear everything that goes on in his headphones.

It’s silent for a second or two, before you hear a familiar voice.

“Dream.” you hear a British man with an awfully posh accent speak, and your eyes meet Clay’s in pure horror and realisation, when you slap a hand over your mouth. He looks as equally terrified as you, but also disappointed, because oh, that’s why he looked so panicked when you stormed in.

Then you hear another voice, equally British, but higher pitched. They laugh. “Is that Drista?”

Clay seems to snap back into reality, turning around towards the computer and adjusting his mic before speaking. “No- it’s- Tommy she said babe, why would Drista call me babe?”

“You’re so stupid, he was trying to help you.” You hear his long-time friend, Sapnap, deadpan, and you can practically feel all of them freaking out, while you stand in the doorway in horror, cheeks heating up despite the fully working AC.

Another laugh. “No, I wasn’t, I was genuinely asking. Why- Sapnap, why would I be helping Dream?”

“Dream, you are so stupid.” you hear George laugh into his mic and your boyfriend immediately starts stuttering, trying to defend himself.

“How-how am I stupid?! She’s the one who walked in, what was I supposed to do?” you lean against the doorway as he defends himself, head buried in one of your hands.

“Mute!” you hear Sapnap borderline yell, almost mad.

“Wait- I don’t get what’s going on- Does Big D have a girlfriend?” you hear the British boy, Tommy, ask, and all of them go silent for a few seconds before a loud, screeching laugh breaks out through the speakers, and when Clay turns around to look at you, all you can do is mouth an apology as you almost break out into laughter at how ridiculous the whole thing is.

“Oh my God, chat is going crazy right now.” George says while Tommy is laughing his lungs out in the background, still.

“Did you actually- did she actually- oh my GOD, Dream has a girlfriend! I can’t believe this!” Tommy keeps on laughing, coughing between sentences. “Dream stans, I am so sorry, this must be just a terrible, terrible day for you all.”

“You’re probably already trending on Twitter, dude.” Sapnap adds, sounding more worried than your own boyfriend did at the moment.

“It was bound to happen at some point, I guess.” he huffs out, turning around to look at you every so often, gesturing for you to close the door and come in, which you did, guilt weighing you down as you moved.

“Are you serious? Can I- Can I speak to your girlfriend, Dream?” you can practically hear the grin in the boy’s voice and Clay doesn’t even turn to you before replying.

“No, you can’t.”

“Oh, come on! You let me speak to your mum but not your girlfriend? Just for a little bit, please? I just- I just wanna see which lucky woman managed to get the attention of the Minecraft God, Dream himself. That’s it.” Tommy asks and you don’t even have it in you to laugh because of the anxiety that eats away at you, but then Clay sighs.

“...Fine, I guess.” he looks up at you. “D’you wanna speak to Tommy?”

You’re not quite sure what the expected answer is, but you shrug, gaze darting from his eyes to the computer, and then back to him. “Um… I don’t mind, I guess.”

You hear him sigh and plug the headphones back into the computer, handing them to you. “Alright, she said yes. Here you go.” he stands up out of the chair and lets you sit, placing the way too big headphones on your head as your heart races, standing closely by your side as you roll the chair further towards the desk and microphone.

“Um… hello?” you shyly speak, and you hear something like groans of mixed annoyance, confusion and nervousness coming from George and Sapnap as Tommy starts laughing immediately, greeting you loudly.

“HELLO, DREAM’S GIRLFRIEND!” you hear him yell in response as your shaky hands land on the keyboard, moving his character left and right.

“Is the AC really broken?” Sapnap asks and you hear George laugh in response, considering how unimportant that information is right now. You know both of them, obviously - you’ve talked to them more than a few times, joining in on their jokes when Clay talks to them on speaker, growing as close as one can with their boyfriend’s friends.

“Yeah, it is. The AC in here is really good, though. Maybe I should stay and just take over the Dream channel.” You joke and they laugh.

“Yeah, I mean it would probably be better. A woman owning the Dream channel would make it so much better. The views would skyrocket.” Tommy says and you see his character walk up to you before he randomly laughs again.

“I can’t believe- I can’t believe Dream actually has a girlfriend. Is he, like, paying you to do this, or are you really…” he trails off and you giggle at his question, switching tools in the hotbar as you try to figure out how to play the game again.

“No, he’s not. We are dating, yes.” you confirm with a nod, and you feel Clay’s elbow sink into the chair, almost trying to listen.

“Say 1 if he’s keeping you hostage.” he says and you laugh again, shaking your head.

“No, he’s not- he’s not keeping me hostage.” you reply and you hear Clay go “WHAT?” right behind you.

“Well, of course, of course, I mean, who could ever pass up dating the great Dream. With all those subscribers, and Twitch primes, and Minecraft skills. Did- did his Minecraft skills get you?” Tommy asked, but before you could even respond, Sapnap jumped into the conversation.

“Oh yes, absolutely. She loves it. Yes, Dream, speedrun faster!” he sarcastically replies and for a few moments the whole call is blown into loud laughter, screeching and yells before it quiets down.

“Yes, what Sapnap said. I was so impressed, he just blew me away, with um… with his, um, Manhunt skills? I dunno, I don’t play Minecraft.” you hear him laugh at “Manhunt skills” behind you as the rest of the boys start laughing too.

“Dream’s girlfriend doesn’t play Minecraft?! What?! Dream- how could he allow this, seriously…” Tommy argued dramatically, his character staring at yours - or rather Clay’s.

“I can’t imagine if we were both Minecraft players, that would be a nightmare.” you replied.

“Why?” you heard George laugh through the headphones.

“Who do you think peels him away from the damn computer? If I was just like him we would never get out of the house, probably.” you argued.

“Dreamfriend, what is Dream like, you know, in real life?” Tommy spoke up and you heard George giggle again.

“Dreamfriend?” you repeated, a grin forming on your face at his stupidity, finally deciding to move the character around and switch back to the sword in the hotbar.

“Yes! Dream’s girlfriend, Dreamfriend, Dreamgirl, Girldream, whatever you like.” Tommy said and you laughed.

“Dream girl… if I wanted to get clout off Dream I’d use that, that’s genius.”

“Thanks, I know I’m a genius, everyone tells me so.” Tommy claims and you shake your head, checking your boyfriend’s inventory to see if there’s anything interesting in there.

“Alright, I’m gonna check on the AC, I’ll be back in a second.” Clay says to you, before lowering himself to the mic so the boys could hear him. “Tommy, don’t do anything stupid, okay?”

“Oh you know it, big man! I’d never!” Tommy yells back, despite Clay being unable to hear him, and he leaves the office with one last, quick kiss to your temple.

“Is he gone?” Tommy asks, and you nod and hum, despite him not being able to see you.

“Okay, so you don’t play Minecraft, right?” he asks.

“No, I don’t.” you reply.

“So there’s this really cool thing, right. If you just go in and type /op tommyinnit, there’s this thing that’s gonna-” Tommy doesn’t get to finish his sentence before he’s cut off by Sapnap, whose character suddenly appears in front of you.

“No, no, no, no, don’t trust him, you should-” Sapnap cuts in, but Tommy still loudly protests in the background.

“BE NICE TO OUR GUEST, SAPNAP! Let her do what she wants! She is Dream’s girlfriend after all, the most powerful woman.” Tommy claims and you laugh, sort of blushing from all the attention. You don’t even dare to check the chat or the donations that come in from Twitch, because it must be blowing up by now. As if he can hear your thoughts, George speaks too.

“Oh my God, Dream’s already trending on, like, five different spots on Twitter.” he says, and you instinctively grab your phone to check, before you can even think about it.

“What?” you and Sapnap both say in sync.

“Yeah, ‘Dream’ is trending #2 worldwide, and ‘Dream girlfriend’ is #4.” he lets out a shocked laugh.

“Oh my God…” you mutter out in both excitement, nervousness and dread as you open Twitter and confirm that George is indeed correct. You don’t even dare to press on either of the trends, simply turning off your phone with a sigh and moving back to stream.

“Wow, you’re famous now! How does it feel?” Tommy asks and you let out a quite dry laugh.

“Amazing. I can feel my value as a person increasing as we speak.” you respond sarcastically and hear George quietly laugh in the background.

Just then, you hear the door to the office opening again, but you ignore it because Tommy starts speaking.

“Okay, well, I’m sure that must be very fun and exciting for you, but I really will need you to type in /op tommyinn-”

“No! I’m not listening to you, Tommy! I’m not about to type in some stupid command and get yelled at!” you cut in, but he keeps on whining.

“Come on, we know Big D would never yell at his… beloved girlfriend! Listen, just do it, I promise he will not be mad.” he argues.

“What does /op even mean?” you ask out loud, and suddenly Clay is yelling behind you.

“Who is asking you to op them? Give me the headset!” he says, one hand already tugging at the headphones as you laugh while Tommy panics.

“Well, it was fun talking to you guys, but I have to go. Bye!” you bid them farewell and heard George and Sapnap say goodbye as well while Tommy yelled, and you took off the headphones and passed them to Clay who immediately put them on and adjusted them, plopping back into the chair. You left, moving to the living room to process everything that happened and abandon your phone for the next few hours because you were not ready for that type of attention in the slightest.

You laid in front of the TV, watching random shows on Netflix and grabbing a few snacks from the kitchen while you could still clearly hear him yelling and streaming, wondering how he’s still going as if nothing happened. The temptation to check what people were saying was overwhelming to the point your hands were itching to grab your phone and open all social media - before you even realised it, you were on the trending page again, thumb tapping on the “Dream girlfriend” tab.

You braced yourself for the worst, but that’s not what came at you - sure, there were a couple of tweets telling people to lay off you, and delusional shippers getting ratioed, but they were mostly positive, lighthearted jokes, from single people making jokes about how a Minecraft YouTuber can get bitches but they can’t, to people calling you cute/funny. One hate comment obviously stings more than a million positive comments make you happy, but they were mostly misogynists calling you annoying for the roughly five sentences you spoke on stream or shippers disappointed that their favorite YouTuber isn’t gay, so you didn’t really let it get to you.

When the house finally quieted down the sun was lowering itself into darkness and melting into a pot of blinding orange and golden honey, and you heard Clay’s footsteps when he finally turned off the stream, stepping into the living room a few seconds after you heard him. He sat down on the couch next to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you close to him, sitting there in silence with you.

“So… that was something.” he finally broke the silence and you nodded.

“It really was.”

Another beat of silence passes.

“I’m sorry, baby, but I really need you to stop breaking all these ACs.”

“I’M NOT THE ONE BREAKING THEM-”

“Sorry, but I’m noticing a pattern here.” he wheezed, obviously just trying to get you riled up as you pulled away so his hand gets ripped off your shoulder.

“Shut up. You better have called someone to repair that damn thing, cause there is no way we’re sleeping in there without an AC.” you huffed, and he shuffled closer to you, arm wrapping itself around your shoulders once again.

“I did, they’re coming by tomorrow.” he assured.

“Tomorrow?” you asked, looking at him in disbelief. “How are we gonna sleep tonight?”

“Who says we have to sleep?” the glint in his eye and the stupid grin plastered on his face tells you everything you need to know, and you roll your eyes.

“If we fuck, I’ll actually die of overheating. Absolutely not.”

“Well in that case, I need to get that AC fixed as soon as possible.”

#dream x reader #dreamwastaken x reader #dream imagine #dream fluff #dreamwastaken imagine #dreamwastaken fluff #dream x y/n #dreamwastaken x y/n #dream x you #dreamwastaken x you #mcyt x reader #mcyt imagine #mcyt fluff

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winwinnns · 4 years ago

Text

an act f a (kinda)

this was supposed to be enemies to lovers but i got carried away with yn in denial lol

a loud laugh ripped through the quiet mumble of the library. startled, you turned to see where the sound came from. you narrowed your eyes. na jaemin and his friends were sitting at a table behind you. you hated him with a burning passion. he was so loud all the time. one time you were paired with him for a project, and he didn’t do any of the work. he bothered you while you worked, and he still got credit.

you lock eyes. you stare him down, not wanting to be the one to break away. he says something to his friends and stands, maintaining eye contact. he walks to your table. you twist back around as he stops right next to you.

“what?”

he laughs at your harsh tone.

“no need to be rude princess,”

god you hated it when he called you that. you loved the pet name, but didn’t exactly like when it fell from his lips.

“you were the one looking at me after all”

he leans in closer to you.

“see anything you liked?”

you wanted to fight the part of you that melted at his voice. you’d never admit it, but you liked when he teased you. it made you squirmy, and he seemed to notice. you shifted in your seat.

“yeah right. i just looked in the direction of the noise.”

he leans in even closer. you wanted to pull away, you really did, you swore it. but you stayed in place, noses almost touching.

“mhm. right.”

you push him away.

“fuck off jaemin”

he laughs and distances from you.

“when are you gonna stop playing hard to get?”

playing hard to get? what was he talking about. you hated him. well, kind of. you didn’t hate how he laughed, you didn’t hate his voice at all, you kind of liked his face. no. you hate him, you decided.

he smirked at you before walking back to his table. it stirred something deep down inside you, and you hated that.

the next time you saw him, you were the class you had with him. he didn’t usually show up, but today he did. he sat right next to you. he smelled good, that pissed you off. you professor droned on. you were zoning out, focusing on the doodle you were drawing on your notebook.

“y/n” jaemin whispered

you ignored him.

“y/n”

he poked your arm. you rolled your eyes and looked at him.

“yes?”

he smiles mischievously.

“hi”

you punched him in the arm. not too hard, but not soft either.

“ow!”

“shut up and pay attention.”

“you’re one to talk.” he smirked.

“at least i know what’s going on.”

he sighs and rubs his arm.

“well that’s cause you’re smart, not because you’re paying attention.”

you dropped your pencil and tried to assess what just happened. he complimented you. your face flushed and you hid it, making sure he wouldn’t see you. you hated this. why did a compliment, that wasn’t even heartfelt, make you an embarrassed mess? you knew why. the answer lived in the back of your mind. you shook your head.

“thanks i guess.”

he smiled again, but turned forward towards the professor.

after that, you saw him another time. you were at a small party with your new friend, sowon. she was nice to have invited you, despite not knowing you very well. you were having a good time talking with new people.

suddenly, loud laughter entered the room. it sounded awfully familiar. you looked up and your stomach dropped. it was jaemin.

suddenly you regretted coming. sowon said she was inviting a few people. what you didn’t know was friends jaemin and his group.

“you’re friends with them?” you ask her.

you didn’t know much about her. but you didn’t think she’d be friends with the rowdiest group of guys on campus.

“yeah, me and haechan go way back!”

she smiles at you. you smiled back, but inside you were pissed. you didn’t want to see him. not in class, not out of class.

that wasn’t true, you were actually kind of excited to see him, but you’d never confront those feelings, you pushed them down like everything else you felt regarding jaemin.

you looked for him, just to make sure you weren’t near him, you convinced yourself.

you found his eyes and he smirked, then winked at you. you cursed the butterflies in your stomach. you tear your eyes away and go to the bathroom. you face felt hot.

you splashed your face with cold water. you looked at yourself in the mirror. you hate him. you’ve needed to remind yourself more often recently. his words stick in your mind for the whole day. his teasing tone bouncing around your brain.

when you opened he door to leave. he was leaning on the wall in across from it. his brought his eyes up from the floor to look at you.

“what are you doing” you ask him.

he smiles.

“waiting for you.”

you contorted your face.

“ew. why?”

he pouted.

“because i wanna talk to you princess.”

you melted just a little bit before regaining your composure. you wanted him to leave. you didn’t want to talk to him.

“what makes you think i want to talk to you?”

he smirks.

“because when i winked at you you got all embarrassed.”

he got up from the wall and stood close to you. you titled your head up to look at him. your body was screaming at him to touch it. you chose to ignore that.

“i know you like me y/n, stop fighting it”

your eyes widened. what? you don’t like him. you hate him. right? no. you hate him you were sure.

“yeah okay jaemin.”

you push him away walk out of the hallway. he follows you to the living room. you stop in your tracks. sowon was friends with everyone you hated apparently, because your ex was standing right next to her.

jaemin leans his head over your shoulder.

“why’d you stop?”

they were flirting. you scoffed. that’s how you found him at every party you went to while you were dating. he was always with another girl. you hated jaemin but man, he really takes the hate cake. (ALPH INTERRUPTION: HATE CAKE WHAT? IM KEEPING IT FUCK IT) suddenly, an idea formed in your head. you’d have to ask jaemin to do something.... interesting.

“jaemin.”

“yes princess.”

“pretend to be my boyfriend.”

you could feel his smirk. before he could say anything snarky you turned to face him.

“don’t get your hopes up. i need to get back at someone.”

he sighed and leaned into your neck, breath fanning over the skin. the closeness of his lips to your body lit your skin on fire.

“don’t worry princess, we’ll show them.”

“who are we avoiding?”

“the guy next to sowon. don’t stare too long.”

he chuckled.

“i know that.”

he pulled away from your neck to look at him. he cupped your cheek with his hand. you panicked, widening your eyes. he giggled.

“relax princess. i’m just playing my role.”

he kisses the corner of your mouth.

“it has to be convincing right?”

you were stunned. you couldn’t move at all. na jaemin just fucking kissed you. on your face. and you liked it???!!! you felt like you were losing your mind.

he brought you back into the hallway. he pushed your hips into the wall. your heart sped up.

“do you just want to leave? we can go somewhere.”

you thought about all the times you’ve pushed down your feelings for jaemin. all the times he made your stomach flutter. how his voice made you melt. how attracted you actually were to him. why did you start hating him anyways?

“yeah. let’s go.”

did you ever actually hate him? or was it just a front. you didn’t know. you couldn’t make any other decisions right now with his hands on your hips.

he pulled away from you and took your hand. you look down at your interlocked fingers.

“what? we’re gonna walk right past him.”

you look up at jaemin, a contagious smile on his face. you couldn’t help but crack a small smile. you led him to the door, trying not to look at your ex on the way out.

you don’t know if he saw you, you don’t really care. jaemin was holding your hand. you hated how safe it made you feel.

na jaemin, your self sworn enemy, was walking you to his car. you would’ve never seen yourself in this situation.

“where do you wanna go baby?”

the butterflies in your stomach went ballistic. you tried to keep your breaths even.

“baby? jaemin you don’t have to pretend anymore.”

he smiled. eyes glued to the road.

“let me enjoy it. i’ve gotten to see so many things today.”

“like what?”

“like how much you really like me.”

fuck he noticed. how? you were just coming to terms with it in your mind how did he pick up on it. you hid your face in your hands.

“i don’t like you. i actually hate your guts.”

“mhm... right.”

he put his hand on your thigh, rubbing softly.

“is this okay?”

you tensed up. his hand felt so warm. you liked it. you liked him. you gulped.

“mhm”

his hand was on the middle of your thigh. you thought about it going higher and higher until- no. you cut yourself off. no definitely not.

he glanced at you, furrowing his eyebrows.

“you’re tense.”

he started to pull his hand away but you grabbed his wrist and but it back on your thigh. jaemin giggled.

“okay princess.”

you pulled through the drive through of the fast food restaurant, jaemins hand glued to your thigh. when you got your food, he looked for a place to park.

you were halfway done with you sandwich before he speaks.

“why do you pretend to hate me princess?”

you nearly choke on your food.

“what?”

he takes a sip of his drink.

“you know, how you pretend i don’t effect you and how you ‘don’t like me’. why?”

“hm. i don’t really know. i don’t even know how it started.”

he smirks.

“so you don’t hate me”

you rolled your eyes, a sudden feeling of boldness washing over you.

“no. i actually have a crush on you.”

your entire body flushed as soon as the words came out of your mouth. you couldn’t believe yourself. you for sure thought you hated him, how could you have a crush on him.

“i know baby.”

your head spun. he knows?? baby?? you took a big bite of your food to distract yourself.

he chuckles. he brings his thumb up to the corner of your mouth. your eyes widened.

“so messy.” he teases.

you thought about other times he’d call you messy, all of them being far too inappropriate to you.

“shut up jaemin.”

he chuckles.

“don’t tell me what to do princess.” his voice was light, but his eyes weren’t. he looked at you challengingly. he wanted you to take the bait. to play with him.

“don’t call me princess then.”

you didn’t actually want him to stop. you’ve grown to like how it sounds coming from his mouth.

“what if i do?”

“then i’ll-“

you didn’t know what to say next, mind blanking

“you’ll what? kiss me?”

“yeah. i fucking will.”

you saw the mischievous glimmer in his eyes. he liked this. he liked fake fighting with you. it excited him.

“do it then.”

you flushed and looked away. you couldn’t kiss him. no way you’d kiss na jaemin.

“aw is princess scared?” he taunted.

that was it. you leaned over the arm of the seat and kissed him. it only lasted a couple seconds. when you pulled away he just stared at you.

“what?”

he grabs your jaw and pulls you in for a harder kiss. this one full of passion. you liked him. you accepted it. you were tired of pretending you didn’t. what was the point of that anyways? you weren’t fooling anybody.

you sighed and pulled away.

“what’s wrong princess?”

you rolled your eyes and sat back down in your seat.

“don’t kiss me like that i’ll get addicted.”

he laughed loudly. you didn’t hate it this time. he shifted in his seat so his torso was facing you.

“wanna come over?”

he wiggles his eyebrows. you laughed. he looked cute.

“hmmm what’s in it for me.”

“more kisses? plus you can wear my clothes.”

you sighed. “i guess i’ll come over.”

you looked at each other before busting out in laughter.

“of course i’ll come over jaemin.”

“hey.” he pouted.

“call me something else.”

“like what.” you teased.

“i don’t know, baby, honey, you could always call me daddy.”

you bursted in another fit of laughter.

“you? daddy?”

you catch your breath. looking at him again. he was pouting again.

“yeah” he frowned dramatically.

“okay sure ‘daddy’”

he slapped your thigh. you yelped.

“don’t make fun of me princess.”

you drove for 15 minutes before arriving at his house. you took off your shoes and we went to his bedroom to get clothes for you.

“bathrooms there, hurry up.”

you rolled your eyes playfully. when you came out you smelled like him. you loved it. you all but skipped to his couch, sitting next to him. he pulls you into his lap. you shared a sweet kiss that made you feel so warm inside.

“jaemin. what are we?”

he thought for a moment.

“anything you want us to be princess.”

you smiled at him before laying your head down on his shoulder.

you never hated na jaemin, you decided.

it was all an act.

#na jaemin #nct dream #nct jaemin #nct dream smut #nct dream fluff

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shreddedparchment · 4 years ago

Text

A Wife for Thor Pt.08

11/07/2020

The Warriors Three

Pairing: King!Thor x Reader Word Count: 5,298

Warnings: talks of pregnancy, sex, smut, very slight angst, jealousy

A/N: Enjoy! Not much to say about this one except that I’m setting things up! Get read for the roller coaster y’all! As always, if you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me sprad my work! xoxo

Tuesday morning you open your eyes and catch Thor watching you sleep.

You stare right back at him, eyes searching his pleasant smile. What is he thinking that’s making him give you such a sappy look? Not that you mind it. You’re a little seduced by it. Emotionally seduced.

Fucker’s got you wrapped around his little finger.

His smile grows wider, almost as if he can read your mind.

“Were you watching me sleep?” You wonder, a whisper so quiet you’re not sure he can hear it.

“Yes.” Thor admits, supporting his head with his hand, elbow buried in his pillow.

“Was I snoring?”

“Yep.” Thor chuckles. “You most certainly were.”

Groaning, you reach down to yank the blanket up over you. It gives you a peek at his glorious naked body lying beside you as it drifts up and falls slowly back over you.

Your mind is attacked with images, memories of last night’s needy bout of lovemaking. Thor had been hungry for it. For you. For his promise to fill you up and get you knocked up with his babies.

The very idea of you pregnant with his heir had him so excited he’d accidentally bitten a little too hard a time or two, then apologized by kissing the assaulted spots until you were trembling and quaking beneath him.

He’d kissed every inch of your body and taken you up and down the room, devouring you in every way he could.

The bed had been the most visited spot, but his desk is still a mess. One of the long flowing curtains that lines the wall of windows is torn and abandoned on the floor.

He pushes you against the wall, as flowing yet slightly scratchy fabric slides across your naked back, you realize he’s got you pinned to the wall of windows.

It’s taking your mind and body a second to catch up to what the other is doing or feeling. It’s been a night of ecstasy. Of orgasms and sweet kisses and the hope that this will last forever. That this isn’t just sex. That maybe it started out as just that but now that your futures are so set in stone, that Thor is committing to this just as much as you are.

He’s invested. He has to be.

Your mind suddenly realizes that even if this floor is high up, the palace tall and looming, someone might be looking up. Someone might be hoping for a chance to get a look at Thor, King of New Asgard, God of Thunder. Instead, they’ll get a full moon. Your ass plastered against the glass.

You twist in his grip, turning to look out and see the distant ocean, black and endless. Thor kisses your neck, his hands reaching down between your legs to pull another whimper.

You’re slick and slippery in his hands. Your knees go weak, and you fall forward. You brace yourself on the window and your eyes are brought to the flickering lights of a house close to the palace walls.

Palace staff probably. Maybe even Estrid’s home? She’ll have a nice view of your tits at this angle.

“Mmmf, Thor…” You gasp, pushing back against him, suddenly embarrassed.

He eases up, giving you space. It’s enough that you slip out from between him and the window. You turn and scamper towards the bed. You jump on it, pulling the sheets up around your body to cover yourself in a delayed attempt at modesty.

As you look at your future husband, you can’t help but laugh. It’s a burst of sound, a hiccup of amusement as you watch him struggle against the curtain. It’s tangled around his left arm and hips. Wrapped around one leg as he steps on the end with the other.

He’s gotten himself all covered in it when he’d suddenly thrown himself around to follow your escape.

“Looks like I’ve caught you, God of Thunder.” You tease, and chuckle again.

Thor’s brow furrows, a deep guttural growl ripping through his throat as he simply walks forward. A simple flick of his wrist across his body where the curtain is wrapped tears it and he’s tackling you onto his mattress before you can understand what’s happened.

You give one small yelp before his lips are pressed to yours and with his kiss, he takes all your shyness.

“Hey,” He begins, gripping the edge of the sheet and he pulls it down until he can see your eyes. “Don’t hide from me so early in the morning.”

He pouts, folding the sheet up just above your chest, wrapping his arms around your waist and then leaning down to kiss your clavicle.

You shut your eyes, relishing in the feeling.

“I love the way you kiss me.” You tell him, suddenly feeling bold.

Probably because it’s early and your body is still reeling from last night.

“Is that so?” Thor asks, laying down properly with his arms still around you.

His eye is trained on yours, searching them for proof that you’re lying.

“Yes.” You nod, reaching over to caress his bearded cheek, turning onto your side to look at him better. “I love your kisses and your touch. I love your voice and the way you laugh.”

Thor’s cheeks are suddenly bright red, barely hidden by his golden scruffy beard. He hasn’t trimmed it in a few days. It’s getting thicker.

“That’s a lot of things to love, cherub. One might think you’re falling for me.” It’s a tease, but hopeful.

The way his voice leaves it open for you to respond to despite being a statement makes your heart pound. You scoot closer, moving until your nose tip is touching his.

You shut your eyes because admitting this face to face is hard. If only because you don’t want to remember saying it and then regretting it later if he should ever hurt you. Because with this arrangement the two of you have made, this marriage? How can you not get hurt at some point?

“I am falling for you, Thor. I’ve already fallen for you.” You whisper that last bit, afraid to speak it too loud. What if someone else hears you say it?

He doesn’t say anything and for several really long seconds, you just wait.

Unable to take it anymore, you open your eyes and find him staring at you still, his brow scrunched, a little pucker between his eyes.

The look is intense, but mostly vulnerable. He looks almost insecure, which is stupid because he’s Thor! How can he look the way you feel?

“What? What did I say?”

Thor gives his head one shake, then he rolls you over, laying over you as his hands push the hair at your temples back, loving your face the way he’s been doing all night.

“How is it that I’ve always needed you and never knew it? How is it that I’ve been searching for you my whole life, and only now just realize it’s you I was searching for?” Thor sighs, shaking his head in disbelief.

You take a deep shaky breath, inhaling until your lungs give up. When you exhale, your voice is surprisingly relaxed, a playful tone in comparison to the intensity of these confessions.

“You’re such a sap.” Voice at a decent volume with a bit of exasperation thrown in.

Thor buries his face against your chest and his body begins to shake with laughter.

You laugh with him, bringing your hands to the back of his head to stroke his messy short hair. You absolutely love the way it sticks at odd angles when he wakes up in the morning.

“You’re making it awfully easy for me to love you, cherub.”

There’s that word again. And it steals your breath just as much as the first time he’d said it, though before, it hadn’t been so straight forward.

“You’ve known me for less than a week, Thor.” You’re absolutely stunned.

You’ve heard of whirlwind romances, but never in true life. None that ended well.

“I know.” Thor sighs, laying on you more snugly. “And I know that it makes no sense, but when you told my friends at dinner that it was inevitable for you to fall for me, I had no idea that the possibility of being with you and knowing that you could love me would make me so happy.

“So, I made up my mind to try. Just as I told you. And then those kisses in your room…”

He drifts off, thinking back to those first liplocks when the two of you had been surprised by the chemistry that had suddenly shot off between you.

“I know.” You nod, bringing your hands down to rest along the sides of his neck. “I felt it too.”

Given that it was your first few kisses ever, even you’d felt something click beyond the initial pleasure they gave you.

“And you’ve been so open, so understanding. Jealous a bit—which I like, to be honest. Probably shouldn’t.” Thor admits, and you think you know what he means.

It’s nice to feel like you’re wanted, so long as it doesn’t smother and hurt.

You smile, despite the anxiety of the moment.

“You’re much more than I ever hoped you’d be, cherub. Much more.” He sighs, placing his index finger on your temple and running it down to your chin. “I’m starting to love you. And I’m certain that with time, that will only grow.”

“Thor…” You’re apprehensive about taking him at his word, fearful that you’ll wake up and it’ll have all been a dream.

“Why don’t you believe me?” He asks, exasperated as he grabs you and rolls over onto his back.

You land on top of him, your legs automatically straddling his hips, hands pushing against his chest to sit up.

“You just broke up with Jane, Thor. A woman who you’d wanted me to pretend you weren’t going to be having an affair with if we got married.” You remind him, and he screws up his face.

A knowing grimace as your anxious timidity makes an appearance again.

“I-I know that I made a mistake.” He nods, hands finding your hips to give them a firm squeeze. “I never should have asked you to do something so deceitful. It was heartless of me. I’m sorry.”

He means it, and his sincerity brings your body down further, hands placed on his bearded cheeks again.

“I don’t make excuses for myself. The only thing I can say is that I wanted Jane and I to work. I have loved her for a long time. For humans.” He clarifies, “And if there was a chance to make us work, I wanted to be certain that I tried. I didn’t want it to end without me having given it a good try.

“But Jane and I have been over for almost half a year. Her true love will always be her work. As admirable as that is, I’ve known that I would need a wife who could give not only myself, but the people of Asgard her full heart.

“That doesn’t mean that I don’t know that your work as a writer is important. I will give you time and space to do what you love. Because I want you to be happy here, cherub. I want you to love living here with me and our people. I want you to love being here. I want you to love me.”

His voice suddenly cuts off, slightly surprised at the honesty of that last sentence.

You’re not. In fact, you know exactly how he feels. You hadn’t expected him to feel it or be the one to say it out loud. You’re so glad he did though, and you lay over him, holding his face still as you press your lips to his softly.

He shuts his eye, kissing you back as his hands find your waist to take firm, possessive handfuls.

When you pull back, he follows you up a little, stretching his neck until you’re sitting too far up to reach, and he falls back onto his pillow.

“I already do, Thor.” You shrug one shoulder, giving into what’s been growing since the moment you met him, and he made you picture both of you together. “I think I’ve loved you since you downed an entire stein of ale and then went for a refill.”

Thor’s smile is small at first but grows as you wait for him to respond.

“I won’t waste it.” He gushes, sitting up and taking you with him, wrapping one arm around your waist, the other holding the back of your neck. “I won’t waste your love.”

He’s so determined, how can you not believe him?

“Promise?” You whisper, licking your lips.

“I swear it.” He replies, pulling you towards him to kiss you softly.

Wet lips lap over yours, massaging softly before you slide your tongue into his mouth, and he groans against you.

You slide one hand down between your bodies, searching until you take hold of his cock and lead him in.

He goes rigid beneath you, body tight as his hands squeeze you hard as you sink down onto him.

He grunts, reaching down to grab a handful of your bottom as you lift yourself up and drop down again slowly.

“You said you wanted a baby.” You remind him, voice nothing but air as he stretches you and hits a delicious spot inside you that makes your hips twitch. “Let’s make a baby.”

That guttural growl from last night rips through Thor’s throat again, and he flips you, tossing you onto your back never once slipping out of you as he rails you into the mattress.

~~~~~~~~~~

It shows up in ways you don’t expect it to.

Quick peeks from across the garden. Sweet smiles over people’s shoulders. A quiet kiss shared before you both leave an empty room.

You and Thor have decided to try and be lukewarm in public. Respectful. Decent.

In private, this morning’s session of lovemaking is a good example of what you two would rather be doing together.

However, since duty calls, you and Thor are currently making your way onto a large stretch of land at the center of New Asgard.

With your arm around his elbow, he waits patiently for you to carefully gather your skirts a little so that you can walk without stomping on the bottom.

It’s a beautiful gown, black with an illusion bodice absolutely covered in beautiful pink, red, white, and orange florals. The same pattern is prevalent throughout the tulle skirt, a thicker cotton skirt underneath keeps you warm. Over the spaghetti strap bodice, you wear a black cloak. It feels more like a cape.

An intentional choice by Thor, it turns out, because you match. Thor in his black Asgardian suit, the same one he wore on the night of your dinner with his closest friends.

The two of you make a lovely pair and the crowd that has gathered around the plot of land you’re on seem to notice and approve.

Some of them wave at you, others simply stare and share excited conversation.

“They’re staring at us.” You smile nervously, waving at a pair of beautiful Asgardian boys no older than ten who wave at you with such enthusiasm, you can’t help yourself.

“They’re staring at you, cherub. You’re the pretty jewel on my arm.” He flatters, and you laugh at him.

“You really don’t like being complimented.” He observes, his eye only for you.

“It’s not that.” You shake your head, meeting his gaze. “I’ve just never been told such…no one’s ever talked to me like that before. It’s super weird.”

“Weird? Then I will have to do it with more frequency.” Thor whispers, leaning in towards you. “And you can’t fight me on it.”

You bite your bottom lip, giving him a quick and private glare.

He chuckles, amused by your reaction.

“Are you warm enough?” He checks, reaching to adjust your cloak.

“Enough.” You nod. “I’d rather be in bed with you, though.”

Thor clears his throat, his hand brushing gently along your bottom.

A mere coincidence that he was adjusting the cloak there when you said that.

“You’re much warmer than this cloak.”

Thor sighs heavily, taking his hand back to scratch at his head.

“Are you trying to torture me?” He wonders, avoiding your gaze and waving at his people.

“No.” You protest. “But you are. It’s a simple fact.”

“You’ve grown increasingly bold in these past few days.” Thor whispers, leaning in towards you to speak quietly.

“Whose fault is that?” You wonder, feeling shy in front of the Asgardians, not so much Thor in this aspect after the way you spent the early morning. “I think I’ve had more sex in two days than most women have in two years.”

After a moment to consider, you smile and meet his eye.

“Can we keep trying for a baby after this? I read somewhere that if you do it on your side, it helps with a girl. Or if we want a boy, you can take me from behind again.”

Thor’s face is crimson as he coughs loudly, choking on his own spit probably since he’d opened his mouth to respond but your question seems to have rendered him speechless.

“Is that a yes?”

Thor takes a minute to catch his breath, clearing his throat before reaching up to pull at the neck of his shirt and armor.

“Vixen.” He accuses. “When I get you back to our room, I’m not letting you out until the morning of our wedding.”

This time, it’s your turn to be speechless. You stare at him, eyes searching, heart pounding, completely emotional. You’re the true sap.

“I’m…Our room?” Had you heard him correctly? “I don’t have to go back to my bedroom?”

“My bedroom is your bedroom. I’m not letting you out of it ever again.” Thor assures you. “I need you there to sleep now, cherub.”

You wrap your arm around his elbow more tightly, tucking yourself in against his side.

“Can I have a kiss?” You ask him, unsure if it’s polite or normal for the two of you to be so affectionate before you’re married or if it’s frowned upon by the Asgardian people.

“Of course, you can, love. You never have to ask.” He leans down as you push yourself up onto your toes, lips puckered and eager.

His kiss is gentle, just as pleasing as ever, but chaste, and innocent.

It’s perfect for what you’re feeling, and you have to pull back first but go in for a second, quicker kiss.

“Well, it looks like you were worried for no reason.” You turn to watch David walking up to you both.

“David!” You gasp, excited at the sight of him. “I thought you’d left back to London.”

You release Thor and hug David, who happily returns the gesture. He pushes you back to get a look at you in your pretty dress, and nods with approval.

“I did but came right back after my meeting. I wanted to make sure the God of Thunder was keeping his word. It appears he’s exceeded it.” David says the tone of approval to accompany the pleased smile on his face. “Might I borrow the future Queen of Asgard, Your Majesty?”

David gestures at your hand around Thor’s arm.

Thor takes your hand and holds it, offering it to David with that lovable goofy smile you’ve become quickly familiar with.

“Of course.”

David takes your hand and gently wraps it around his own suited up elbow. “Thank you.”

Together, you and David walk a few feet away, Thor turning towards the nearest group of Asgardians to greet and mingle.

“It seems things have progressed quickly between you and Thor.” David observes, his voice polite but you can hear the worry.

“We’re already trying for a baby, David.” You confess, stopping and tugging on his arm so that he’ll turn to look at you.

David’s face is full of shock. He blinks, trying to clear his mind or put the words you just said together in different ways until he understands them.

“You’ve slept with him already?” David asks quietly, always the model of good sense.

“It just happened.” You sigh, catching your breath after your impromptu confession. “He kissed me the night of the dinner and then he broke up with Jane and when I went to see him in his room, to show him my wedding dress for approval, he was so open with me about everything and we kissed again. One thing led to another and we just…it felt right, David. I didn’t want it to happen because it had to. Because he had to consummate the marriage?

“I needed to feel control over something.”

David moves a step closer, taking your hand in his two, tapping them to offer comfort.

“We really click, David. Like, in bed? And personally too. We’ve been so…it’s easy with him. To a certain point. I’m not a complete idiot. But I-I’m already loving him. And I think he feels the same. M-Maybe not love, even though he says he does, but he likes me at least. I’m sure.

“He said he wanted to start on our heir. Since we’ll have to do it quickly anyway.” You shrug.

To your surprise, David actually nods. “I think having his child is for the best too.”

You’re about to ask him why, but he explains without you needing to.

“The Ambassadors are eager for your marriage to commence. And I think it’s a good idea to solidify your place in their court with a child.”

Fear and a bit of anger begins to grow in your belly. It fills your chest with worries and the tightness of your anxieties makes it hard to breathe.

“You’re afraid he’ll change his mind?” You realize, so angry at David you almost want to rip your hand out of his grip and march back to Thor’s side…but this is your fear too. Your worry.

“No.” David rushes to reassure you, but the seed—while it had already been planted—has been watered by his warning. “No, I don’t think he will. The way he looked at you just now didn’t look like the expression of a man who is having doubts. In fact, he looks downright smitten.”

This helps you relax a little, or at least cools the rage you feel towards David.

“It’s all just happening so quickly.” David frets.

“It has to happen quickly.” You reason, annoyed but also understanding of his worry.

You’re worried too. After every sweet word, touch, and especially after every moment you spend wrapped in Thor’s arms, coming to pieces beneath him. Feeling him more deeply than you’ve ever felt anyone before. Literally.

You wonder to yourself, if maybe this is all too good to be true.

“You’re not pretending?” David asks, quiet since Loki, Sif, and three men you’ve never seen before make their way towards Thor at the center of the lawn.

“No, David. I’m really not. I like him, so much. I didn’t expect it, but I do. And he seems to like me too.”

“I’ll have to keep an eye on him, to make certain he really returns your feelings.” David smiles. “Would you like me to send for a fertility doctor? Someone who can keep an eye on you to assure that you and Thor are doing everything you can to produce an heir?”

“Yes!” You hug him tight, so pleased that he seems to be on your team.

He laughs in your ear as you hold him, hugging you back gently.

“You’ll wrinkle your pretty gown.” David worries.

“Cherub?” Thor’s voice calls to you and you turn towards him, his hand extended towards you from where he stands with his friends.

All of them in unison, save for Sif who instead looks down at the ground, mouth his pet name for you.

David too.

“Cherub?” He asks, amused.

But you don’t hear him. You move for Thor, taking his hand, then he pulls you against his side, wrapping his arm around your waist.

David moves to stand beside you, but clears his throat to draw everyone’s attention.

“I think I will retire to the palace. If that is alright with you Your Majesty?”

Thor looks to David and offers a quick smile. “Of course. We can offer proper introductions at dinner.”

With a nod, David takes his leave.

“Y/N, I’d like you to meet Volstagg, one of my oldest friends and a mighty adventurer in his own right. He also enjoys a good drink and plenty of well-seasoned food.” Thor whispers the second part in your ear, drawing your attention back to the newcomers.

“What’s that you’re saying about me to my future Queen?!” Volstagg demands, but he doesn’t wait for an answer as he reaches to take your hand.

He bows his head, pulls it to his lips, and kisses it chastely.

“Your Highness, it is a pleasure to meet you.” He gushes.

“Nice to meet you.”

“This here is Fandral, another close friend. He-”

“Has conquered many hearts, and had I been here when you came to meet Thor, I may have very well conquered yours, Your Highness.” He smiles at you flirtatiously, his blonde hair falling loosely over his forehead.

He is very handsome, charming. A definite flirt.

He reaches for your hand but before he can take hold of it, Thor grabs it and pulls it against his own chest.

“He’s a flirt.” Thor’s frowning at him, and you can’t help but feel your stomach flip and your heart flutter at his refusal to let Fandral touch you.

“And I am Hogun of Vanaheim. It is an honor to meet you, Your Highness. I am at your service.” The third of the Warrior’s three is calmer, though you sense a general amusement floating off of him at his companions and their quirks.

“Thank you.” You smile at him, “All of you, for such a warm welcome.”

“We’re very sad to have missed your welcome feast.” Volstagg laments, rubbing his protruding belly.

He’s in his armor which makes his large stature menacing and comforting that his girth will be on your side of any fight.

“You’re just hungry.” Hogun tells him.

“Isn’t he always?” Fandral teases.

“As charming as this impromptu meet-up is, you three have new armor to be measured for, and if you hurry you might just catch the end of the lunch hour back at the palace.” Loki informs them, and like they’ve all been electrocuted, the Warrior’s Three give you a quick bow and shuffle off bickering about some disagreement from before they arrived.

“Brunnhilde, I think maybe you should go with them. Apprise them of the need for their quick return. The sooner they start planning, the better for us all.” Loki looks to Sif, frowning at the way she’s staring at Thor holding your hand to his chest still, cradling it there as if it were something precious. “Sif? I think you should go with her. Rest up. Tomorrow’s wedding will be a long day for us all.”

Sif gives you and Thor a passing look, Loki a quick glare before she turns and marches off after the Warrior’s Three.

Hilde looks after Sif then smiles at Loki before turning her charms towards you.

“Forgive Sif, Your Highness, she’s not used to defeat.” Hilde explains.

“I’ve never met warrior women before. I wish she’d let me get to know her.” You lament, Thor’s arm tightening around your waist.

“She’ll come around, Cherub. She just needs some time.” He assures you.

“Or a boyfriend.” Hilde jokes. “Don’t worry, I’ll try to bring her around.”

“Thank you, Hilde.” You truly appreciate her and her kindness.

“I’m glad this is going well.” She points at you two, sincerely pleased, looking almost smug.

Thor’s eyes narrow, and he hugs you closer.

“So am I.” He throws at her.

She laughs once, then turns and heads after the others without another word.

“Alright, so why have you brought us out here?” Thor asks Loki, who quickly pulls a small black folder from what looks like to you, thin air.

“This plot of land has been designated as a public park. As our Queen, the council has decided that this would be the perfect first task for you.”

“For me?!”

“Yes. We’ll give you plenty of experts to do the actual work. Your job will be to oversee the park’s construction. They will give you options, you pick what you’d like, and at the end of a few months, you will unveil the park to the public.” Loki explains.

“Doesn’t it seem like too much to take on?” Thor worries, “For a first project?”

You remain silent, too stressed suddenly with the pressure to get this place just right mounting.

“You’ll help her, Your Majesty.” Loki teases, “It will be a joint project. A gift form the King and Queen to their people in honor of their wedding. We don’t have any parks yet, and with the population growing again, this one will be an excellent place for families to come and pass the time, for whatever reason families seem to want to do that.”

“So, I’ll have help.” With Thor by your side and many experts, it doesn’t feel so daunting. Still stressful, but not as scary.

“Yes.” Loki nods, handing you the folder so that you can look at the plans and options he’s already set aside for you. “After tomorrow, you’ll have a week to honeymoon, and once you’re back, you’ll begin your duties. Together. As a unified front for all the world to see.”

Suddenly, you realize what this is actually supposed to be.

“So, this is really just a PR stunt for everyone to see that Thor and I are getting along in our new marriage? Because no one can believe in the arranged marriage thing?” You sigh, feeling slightly deflated by the rude way reality seems to be encroaching on your blissful new love bubble.

“We knew this would be a concern, cherub.” Thor rubs your lower back, trying to soothe you a little. “We’ll easily give them what they want. Since I already love you, we won’t have to pretend. They’ll see us as we are.”

You’re knocked breathless again, trying hard to catch it as Thor’s stupid love declaration in front of Loki absolutely sends your body and mind buzzing.

Loki is also shocked by this. His eyes are wide, slow blinking as he stares at Thor’s feet, replaying what Thor just said.

Loki wasn’t expecting Thor to say that and you’re not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.

“Cherub?” Thor gives your body a little shake.

“I’m okay.” You assure him, swallowing hard, almost ready to lose your mind until you look up and meet his eye.

His concern and caring is there, true and real, and it calms you. It settles your worrying heart and with a slow sigh, you nod.

“Really, I’m okay.”

Thor frowns, almost not believing you despite the fact that you can see that he means his words.

You’re not sure if he does it for himself or if he’s doing it to prove his point, but he holds you tighter, pulling your body towards his and holding your head in place as he leans down to give you a not so chaste kiss.

You can’t help yourself when his tongue begs for entrance. You open up for him and readily meet him in his passion.

“Okay…” Loki mutters, neither you nor Thor hearing him. “…I’ll just…go.”

#king!thor x reader #thor x reader #arranged marriage au #royal au #a wife for thor #thor x reader fanfiction #thor x reader fanfic #thor x reader fic #thor x you #king!thor x reader fanfic #king!thor x reader fanfiction #king!thor x reader fic #king!thor x you #marvel au #marvel fanfiction #a wife for thor pt08

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hotpinkrathian · 4 years ago

Text

20 Years Ago Pt 1

(Kyalin)

Kya stood back with a grin. She did it. Despite her mother's doubts she had successfully pulled off the perfect highschool reunion. People were chatting, dancing and congratulating her.

"Well Kya, you did it." Her bother said, standing beside her with a glass of punch.

"Don't drink that," she said, "it's spiked."

"How do you even know that?" He asked looking into the cup.

"Waterbenders intuition." She lied. Truthfully, she had been the one to spike it.

"Look," Tenzin said, gesturing to the door."

"Hmmm?" She turned her head, her brows furrowing. Lin Beifong.

"What is she doing here?" Kya asked, she knew for a fact she didn't invite her.

"I asked her to come," Tenzin explained, "she doesn't get out a lot and well, I thought it'd be nice for you two to see each other." Kya rolled her eyes. She had no business with Lin, and the idea her brother thought otherwise was stupid.

"I have nothing to say to her." Kya stated, taking his cup and downing it.

"It seems like you do." Tenzin replied, letting his sister walk away.

Kya huffed, sitting down at her table, two cups of punch in her hands, both of which were for her. It seemed everyone here was having a good time, except her. She couldn't help it, Lin's prescence set her off.

"How am I supposed to enjoy myself when she's lurking around?" She spoke to herself, taking a drink from the left cup.

"Still talking to yourself, I see." Lin said, sitting next to her.

"Still condescending, I see." Kya mocked, finishing one of her drinks. Lin reached a hand over, grabbing the other one.

"Thats mine." Kya said. Lin raised an eyebrow, keeping eye contact with the older woman.

"Then take it." Kya looked at her quizzically, Lin had a sadistic grin on her face, like she was enjoying Kya's anger.

"No." Kya replied, "you have it. On me." Lin smirked, placing her lips to the cup and downing the whole thing her face unraveling in a look of disgust.

"Thats so sweet." The metalbender groaned.

"Some people like sweet things." Kya retorted. Lin sighed, glancing to the stage.

"You know, we're kind of old to be doing this." Lin said.

"I think I know how long to hold a grudge." Kya replied, refusing to look her in the eyes.

"Raava, Kya do you even remember what you hate me for?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I do."

"Then enlighten me."

"It was my senior year, you promised to come with me to prom, we had it planned and everything. Then someone started dating my brother and ditched me to give a blow job behind the bleachers. I had no other friends Lin, everyone hated me for... well, you know, and you just... you left me alone. To be ridiculed by my entire grade. I had to leave out the back door because by the end of the night I was covered in punch and didn't want to be seen by the cameras."

"Okay, wow. First of all, it wasn't a blow job." Lin started, "second of all, I didn't mean to leave you. I just didn't know how long it would take."

"Oh my God, Lin, do you not hear yourself?" Kya asked, "you left me alone on my night to fuck my brother. Dick move, by the way."

"I wasnt fucking your brother!"

"Right so he let everyone believe that you and him fucked for the rest of the year?"

"Yes!"

"Really? You think I'm that stupid?"

"Kya, ask Tenzin. We didn't do anything that night, I didn't have the guts too. I never intended for he and I to do anything but he got ahead of himself and told all his friends so I told him not to worry about it." Kya looked away in disbelief.

"If that was true, why didn't you tell me?"

"I tried, you were so upset and 'banned me from the island. I asked that idiot arrowhead to talk to you but I guess he never did." Kya stared at her, unsure of what to make of this. Lin had lied before, but she seemed so sincere... stop. Remember how you felt.

"I'm not listening to this. I have a speech to give." Lin slammed a fist on the table and let Kya go. The watsrbender made her way to the stage, motioning for the crows to gather.

"I just want to say how happy I am everyone could make it today." She began, "it's been a long time since we've seen each other and I have to say I'm absolutely thrilled with the people you have all become."

"I'd like to say something!" Kya looked down at the speaker, he had a hat on, a jersey for some pro bending team and awfully greasy shorts. Roy Cavanaugh. The idiot who had splattered her with punch on prom night.

"Well I'm not really-"

"Roy! Roy! Roy!" The crowd chanted.

"Fine," Kya caved, "come here." He climbed onto the stage, taking the mic from her and holding it a little to close to his mouth.

"Can I just say," he started, "had I known you were gonna look like that when you were older I would've been nicer to you." Kya pursed her lips.

"Thats enough-"

"With that being said, are you still a dyke? Because I'd like to show you my-" Kya took the mic from him, staring at him angrily. Laughter mixed with awkward silence. She stared into the crowd, their familiar beady eyes focusing on her. Passing their judgment and she realized then and there she didn't want this reunion to see people, she wanted closure.

"Roy," she said, "you're an idiot. You always will be. Maru," she directed to his wife, "he cheated on you. Multiple times with Christine. Blonde hair, two girls down. Yeah that one." Roy looked at her, his eyes begging her to stop.

"Also," she said, "we all know it was you who shit on the floor during gym class. Everyone did. Just some of us were decent enough human beings to spare you that guilt. Now get out of my party." He jumped off the stage, his friends no longer sticking beside him, his wife ignoring his call.

"Oh to answer your question," Kya called before he left, "I am still a dyke. And that's not going to change for any of you." She smiled, satisfied with herself. She caught a glimpse of Lin who had a look on her face that resembled a smile. She dropped the mic, marching down the stage steps with gusto when she fell backward and collided with the steps.

"Kya. Kya. Kya, wake up." Kya's eyes batted open, pushing past the pulsing sensation in her head.

"Where am I?"

"The school gym."

"Why?"

"You slipped. Hit your head pretty bad." Lin said, pushing her down when she tried to sit up.

"Wheres Tenzin?"

"Jinora got sick, he went home. He sat here with you though, for an hour."

"How long was I out?"

"Three hours."

"Three hours?!" Kya tried to sit up, but her head refused her.

"Stop moving so much, just lay on this." Lin took off her coat, bundling it up and placing it under her head.

"Where is everyone" Kya asked.

"They went home. After your speech and... trip, I guess they decided they didn't deserve to be here." Kya snorted, taking the water Lin offered her and holding the freezing ice to her head.

"That works too," Lin said, moving beside her.

"Why did you stay?" Kya asked, moving her eyes to Lin.

"I am a police officer, it wouldn't look good if I left an injured person here."

"Oh." Kya said, trying not to sound disappointed.

"But also... I wasn't done talking earlier."

"You? Lin Beifong had more to say. I'll be damned." Lin laughed slightly before taking a deep inhale.

"I'm sorry, for everything." She said, "what I did to you that night, it wasnt fair." Kya smiled reaching her free hand to Lin's and holding her leg.

"Can I be completely honest with you?" Kya inquired.

"Of course."

"I think I over reacted, just a bit."

"Oh really?"

"Yes, now shush. I... I had feelings for you, back then." Kya admitted. She felt herself blush, and immediately regretted everything she had said.

"Kya, I know you won't forget that night and the trauma it caused you, but you shouldn't know I never meant to hurt you. I didn't go because I was scared. I made these other plans because I didn't want people to see me with you and-"

"You were embarrassed of me?"

"What? No, God no... Kya I didn't want people to see me with you and talk because I knew that if we danced, or shared a drink, I'd have to confront the part of myself that liked you, too. And if that was true then what other rumors were?" Kya looked at Lin in disbelief. All this time, all this hatred she had kept for Lin when the true enemy was fear. She pushed herself up, leaning against the wall and putting the ice next to her.

"Lin," she spoke softly," I'm sorry. You shouldn't have had to feel that way. If I pressured you or-" before she could finish, Lin's lips met hers. She was taken aback by how soft Lin's lips her. The Beifong kissed with so much emphasis and emotion Kya had to pull away for a moment.

"Lin..." she whispered, "you have no idea how many times I thought of this moment."

"I think I do," Lin replied, "I thought of it everyday for the last 20 years." Kya grinned, pressing her forhead against Lin's before wincing in pain.

"You're in pain." Lin said, pulling away.

"No I'm fine just a little headache." She winced again and Lin moved to her knees, standing up and offering her hand.

"Come on." Lin said.

"This unnecessary really Lin-"

"You can't stand, can you?" Kya shook her head. Lin side, bending down and reaching one hand under her shoulders and the other under her hips. She pushed, taking Kya in her arms with a grunt. Kya blushed when Lin met her gaze, doing her best to keep her head up.

"Are you going to carry me all the way back to the island?" Kya asked.

"Maybe. I was going to put you in the back seat of my satomobile."

"That works." Kya replied. Lin carried the Waterbender out of the highschool gym, Kya stifled a chuckle at the disaster her party had turned into. At least she'd missed most of it.

Kya had fallen asleep on the drive over to the docks, waking up briefly to get on the ferry before passing out again on the railing. Lin must've carried her all the way to the temple because when she finally came too, she was on the couch in her childhood home.

"Well, she might not remember that part." Kya blinked her eyes open, seeing her mother and Lin sharing tea over the coffee table.

"Good morning." Katara said, getting up and putting a hand to her daughters head.

"What time is it?"

"Six."

"In the morning?" Kya exclaimed. As if on cue Lin opened the blinds, revealing the sun as it peaked over the horizon.

"Lin caught me up, dear," Katara said, "you had a minor concussion, nothing I couldn't fix. But please take it easy okay?"

"Yeah, thanks, Mom." Kya pushed herself up, accepting the cup of tea Lin handed her.

"So, how big of a fool did I make of myself?" Kya asked, rubbing her eyes.

"Eh, I've seen worse. If they didn't remember you before, they do now." Kya sighed, taking a sip of the tea.

"Well it is what it is." She whispered. They sat in silence for a moment before Lin stood up.

"Where are you going?" Kya asked, motioning to follow her.

"Relax," Lin said, pushing her back onto the sofa, "I'm just going to bathroom."

"Oh."

"Was the whole night not enough time to catch up?" Lin asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Well no, I was passed out for most of it." Lin chuckled slightly and Kya blushed again.

"Then I'll be right back."

"Okay." Kya watched her go with a longing look in her eye. She looked back to her mother who shook her head with a dumb grin.

"Oh stop." Kya scolded.

"I didn't say anything."

"You didn't have to."

"She stayed awake the whole night you know." Katara said.

"That doesn't mean anything."

"Whatever you say, dear." Kya pursed her lips, looking back in the direction Lin had disappeared to.

Well shit.

#legend of korra #lin beifong #kyalin #avatar the last airbender #suyin #kya ii #kyalin ff #enemies to lovers #soft at the end

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amiechuchu · 3 years ago

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Magic, Mayhem, and All Things In Between

Chapter 3: Background of the Study

[A/N: finally some y/n and loki development. soft loki moments. i am once again back with the self-indulgent fic and i hope you enjoy :’)]

other chapters can be found here

Weeks had passed since you had accepted Mr. Stark’s small favor. Weeks had passed since you began spending the majority of your time with the Asgardian brothers and dear Uncle Bruce. Though the days were filled with chatter, the late nights in the lab were quite the opposite. With only the low hum of machines to keep you company, you realized how lonely it can be. It was unlike the times you spent in the hospital, where you’d be surrounded by fellow doctors, nurses, and patients even at the dead of night. Despite how these late night duties meshed with early mornings, dulling your own sense of time, you didn’t mind it because of the company that you had. Research work, on the other hand, was a different story. Despite your years of experience, the burnout and loneliness that accompanied research work slowly made its way to the deepest parts of your brain.

“Hey,” a voice said as a hand waved in front of you, snapping you out of the trance you were in. It was Loki. “Are you okay, pet? You look rather dead.” The God held up a cup of freshly brewed coffee and passed it on to you.

“I’m fine,” came your quick reply as you received the cup from him, your hands nudging his slightly, “thank you for the coffee by the way.” You gave Loki a weak smile before beginning to sip from the warm cup of comfort that was given to you.

The lack of reaction was unusual. How many times has Loki seen you flustered with just the tiniest forms of physical touch? Probably every single time. Confused, he grabbed a chair and set it down beside you. “Are all you Midgardians always so dishonest about what you feel?” There was that usual bite in his manner of speaking. Though, no matter how hard he tried to hide it in his cold demeanor, he could feel the concern dripping from the words he uttered; the loneliness he saw in your eyes hit too close to home. Did he get too close? Maybe showing that he cared was a mistake.

Keeping your eyes on the warm mug, you hummed in reply, refusing to answer a clear yes. Your eyes glanced up at the God beside you, longing to understand why he’d even bother. Clearly, you were oblivious to any form of care or concern Loki has shown. It wasn’t as if you had your guard up, rather you were quite unfamiliar with the intimacies of talking about your own feelings. Although the question he asked was clearly rhetorical, you still wondered: Do Asgardians not repress their own feelings to prevent them from getting distracted from things that truly matter?

Green orbs stared at yours, noticing the ever darkening bags under your eyes. “I was just concerned,” Loki began, voice softening. The God looked away and focused on the variety of glassware set up on the table adjacent to them, “it has been a while since you’ve left the laboratory. You didn’t even sneak out to the medical wing for a little breather.”

You raised an eyebrow at him in disbelief. How could he have noticed all that? How could he have cared at all? After all, you were just a lowly Midgardian, as he put it, and he was a God, a deity, someone with power and importance. “How did you-”

“It pains me that you put me on the same level as them, little doctor,” the God interjected as he faced you once more, “out of all the weeks we’ve spent in this laboratory, you really believed I wouldn’t have noticed.” He noticed the closeness of your proximity; his form inches away from yours, yet your mind was elsewhere.

“In my defense, everyone else I’ve met in this tower described you as a narcissistic asshole and a war criminal,” you shrugged, “so, naturally, I didn't think you would care at all about my well-being.” You took a sip from your cup, and indulged in the buzz the caffeine began to give you. “But I don’t think you’re as bad as they make you out to be. They just didn’t think of the whole story. Just took out a portion of it. It was unfair - what they did to you. It felt as if you always had the short end of the stick.”

Silence.

Now, it was your turn to shock your Asgardian companion. Being on the other end of empathy was foreign to Loki as everyone treated him quite harshly. He grew up in the shadow of Thor, the more loveable sibling, and, as much as he wanted to show off his capabilities, that he was just as worthy as Thor, Loki was left in the darkness, to wallow in promises unkept, to wallow in dreams broken, to wallow in his own great tragedy.

Eyes feeling heavy, You turned your head towards Loki, waiting for a response; though you were a naturally perceptive person, the look on his face was filled with emotions you couldn’t make out. Was he mad? Did you say too much? That analysis was unwarranted, of course he’d be mad. Embarrassed, you looked down on your cup of coffee once more, “I apologize if I said anything out of line. There are just too many things in my mind right now. I don’t think I was able to filter my thoughts very well.”

“Pray tell, dear doctor. What are you thinking of?” Loki replied, deciding to change the course of their conversation. With brows slightly raised and his gaze set at your exhausted form, you felt the God studying you, attempting to break down the essence of what makes the little physician tick.

Deciding to be a smartass, you replied, “like I said, many things.” You set down your cup of coffee on the table and crossed your arms. “Why do you ask, Loki? These past few weeks you’ve been awfully helpful to the point that Uncle says it’s weird and unlikely for you to do that just for a human. I appreciate it though, but I just don’t see why you should go out of your way to listen to me.”

“Your words wound me, doctor,” Loki chuckled, emerald eyes piercing yours, “can I not be concerned? I see years worth of loneliness and unfulfilled expectations in your eyes to the point that you can’t even deny it. I’m sure you understand what isolation and over independence can do.” Your eyes softened, glistening under the incandescent lights. You were cracking slowly, and the God knew this. He knew what you were seeking: comfort, validation, a shoulder to cry on. It was clear as day.

“Well, I could see all the walls you’ve built. You know everything about everybody, but barely anyone knows anything about you,” you attempted to reply proudly; however, your words were breathy, already beginning to shake. So much for an attempted bark. Embarrassed, you looked away defensively, not taking another moment under his perceptive gaze. It felt as if all the skeletons you’ve kept inside your closet were being showcased all of a sudden, and you hated every second of it. Your stomach churned as your defenses slowly came undone; it wouldn’t take a while now for you to start oversharing, possibly even crying your eyes out. His hand tenderly reached out to the edge of your chin and tilted it towards him. It was warm, soothing. Comforting.

“I could say the same to you, darling. You act as if you don’t build walls around you, yet you keep everyone else at arms reach. I know what loneliness and distrust does to people, and I also know that you shouldn’t hold yourself accountable for all these expectations.” There was a slight pang in Loki’s chest as he said all these truths. He too bore wounds invisible to the eye. He too carried scars from the past. These emotions were far too familiar to the raven-haired God much like old friends, and he was afraid that, by reading these off your face, he’d become attached somehow, mended together by a mutual understanding of each other’s pain. What would become of his plan then? His glorious purpose?

Looking up to him, you realized how small you were, how fragile, how easy it was for him to see through your façade. It was oddly nice to have someone who had a grasp on your inner demons, albeit without consent. You felt a connection in the making.

Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to trust him.

Days have passed since the God of Mischief and the doctor have shared a portion of the thoughts they hid away in the darkest parts of their head. It was needless to say that the two now had an unspoken connection, a commiseration of loneliness, self-doubt, and crushing expectations. Often, they’d find their gazes focused on one another, with smiles shared and laughter exchanged. Other times, a helping hand would linger longer than usual atop the other’s. A gentle squeeze or the light encircling of one’s thumb, a sign of care and concern; these gestures only happened when the two were alone, knowing that dear Uncle Bruce would be highly against it. However, it wouldn’t be long before the others noticed.

You were grateful that today was a relatively slow day in the laboratory. Majority of the specimens that were scheduled for today’s tests were finished earlier than usual along with the case presentations and progress reports Mr. Stark had asked you to make. Though it seemed like such a small feat, you took it positively; today, you could finally take a breather. You hummed happily as you began arranging the mountain of paperwork around the main table.

Upon reaching for the next pile of papers, a familiar hand laid atop of yours. You smiled and looked at your raven-haired companion, admiring the way his tousled locks framed his oh-so ethereal face.

“Do you need help, my dear doctor?” Loki asked as his thumb drew circles on your hand. Though his silvery voice tugged at your heartstrings as they always did, your cheeks were slightly tinged a light shade of red at mention of the pet name. The God never called you his doctor before.

“I can manage,” you replied as you turned your hand, interlocking your fingers with his. You kept your gaze on your hands intertwined with his, the way they fit together so perfectly. “It’s surprisingly not as busy today.”

Loki leaned down, his face close behind your neck. “A bit bold today aren’t we, pet?” he jested, breath tickling the side of your ear.

Thor observed the scene from afar, shocked. He never thought that his brother would’ve established a bond with the doctor, not in the way that Loki didn’t deserve any type of social interaction, but in the way that his brother wasn’t the easiest person to get along with. With arms crossed, the God of Thunder continued to watch as the two continued on with their intimacies, wondering when and how this managed to start. He watched the way your eyes lingered on his brother attentively; the way you were able to tug a smile on Loki’s face; the way his face lit up when you were around; the way your gentle touch was able to open a different side of Loki.

Though he was wary of his brother and his antics, Thor disregarded his suspicions: the two of you were much too happy occupied in your bubble of… friendship? No, it was more than that. So much more. Something was blossoming, and the God of Thunder was sure of it. He was unsure of the status of you and Loki’s relationship, but nevertheless he was still happy. However, he wasn’t so sure if your uncle would be so accepting of it, knowing the bad blood between what had happened in New York.

The doors of the laboratory swept open, startling the two friends. Thor coughed loudly to alert his brother and the doctor, but it was already too late for them to fall back to a more believably platonic position. Out came Mr. Stark and Uncle Bruce from the elevators, both shocked at the closeness of you and Loki. Tony looked more curious than shocked at the development. Your uncle, on the other hand, radiated a crushing aura, and, although Uncle Bruce’s face seemed calm and collected at the moment, you knew very well that there was anger hidden underneath it. He always warned you about Loki and the danger he could bring if you got involved, so it was no surprise to you if his anger came from both concern and disappointment.

Awkward air filled the room as the two made their way towards the laboratory’s main table. Loki stepped back away from you, whispering something along the lines of you being okay. You nodded in affirmation then looked down, averting any type of eye contact, and started to fiddle with the sheets of paper you had in hand.

Sighing, you knew it was taboo to speak of the laboratory’s peace out loud since it always brought bad luck. Now, you’re going to have to deal with the consequences.

taglist: @gaycatlord-stuff @aces-tattooartist

#mmaatib #magic mayhem and all things in between #loki #loki laufeyson #loki x reader #loki x y/n #loki x you #loki/you #loki/reader #amie drabbles

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namgee · 4 years ago

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implications | knj

❥pairing: Namjoon x Reader (f) ❥genre: fluff, slice of life (pg) ❥word count: 2.3k ❥summary: The adventurer life isn’t for you. You like your routines and you stick to them, but a small mess-up finally forces you beyond your desired level of social interaction as you rely on a stranger. A stranger whose actions and words imply things you wish to explore. ❥warnings: none ❥a/n: this was just a quick little thing I wrote a few days ago before I got started on another smut fic which should come out in about a week 😋 ^^ I did a quick proofread so sorry for any mistakes 😣

A silence that sounds with turning pages, graphite scraping against thick paper and the ever present hums that arise from thought. Your ears anticipate it even before you're there. It’s, for the most part, the same soundscape you’ve grown accustomed to since you started visiting the art atelier. Well, the building technically has multiple ateliers, whatever your artistic interest, for a reasonable fee each month, you can visit the space and use their resources. Each floor focuses on certain subject areas, people are allowed to move around and work wherever they want. Like a Google workspace except for the arts.

You usually stick to the 4th floor, where most of the graphics tools are. The elevator dings, you step away from the metallic box and towards the senior part-time receptionist, Diane, who gives unsolicited artistic advice under the guise that old age equates to prowess in art criticism. The advice isn’t half as bad as you expected still, you rarely take it. You place your folder on the desk giving her a smile, teeth barely visible, it’s the best iteration of ‘a lady should always smile when talking to others’ smile you can muster with your lips chapped from the borderline glacial air you had to walk through this afternoon.

“Well, hello young lady! You haven’t visited the establishment in a while. Mateo has been asking about you actually.”

Mateo is the head of the graphic art department who you might or might not like, there’s still a few weeks left for you to decide. Your roommate, Jovian, had given you the ultimatum, “You have until you finish whatever creature you’re trying to collage together this time around,” she had said waving her half painted stiletto nail around before diverting her attention to another girl who also seemed to be having a hard time choosing as her family and in laws attempted to decide for her. On one thing you were sure, you would have said no to the dress she had on.

“There we have it! That’s a much better smile that one you gave before. It’s always best to show some teeth,” Diane says, her two row of teeth (some of which look awfully fake) in full display.

“I’ll sure think about it next time Diane. I’m just here to check in right now,” you sigh, removing your decaying gloves which have lost their purpose, your fingers are about as stale as Diane’s as you fish around for your membership card in your wallet.

“The time please darling.”

“3pm to 8pm,” you say blowing warm air into your palms.

It takes a few minutes for her to find your name in the system. “Oh sweetheart, it seems someone else already took your spot.”

“Exactly how did they take my spot?”

“Hmmm,” Diane’s eyes lift upwards as she tries to find an answer in the air, “to be quite frank with you I do not know.” She sounds shocked that she doesn’t know something.

“Uh, excuse me?” Someone questions from behind you. You both turn towards the voice coming from a golden haired man sporting what is most likely the best variant of the fully toothed lady smile Diane advocates for. To make matters even better it’s shaped like a heart. “I believe that I was the one who took the spot.” he giggles nervously as if caught red-handed before sliding his own card onto the desk.

You assume he’s here to work with graphics for some sort of fashion related purpose, in fact he sort of looks like the graphics plastered around the building: colourful, bold, warm but still a bit overwhelming.

“You’re indeed the one who booked the slot first, young man.”

“I believe that this is what the trainer for my position was referring to as a glitch in the system.” Diane says with an air of pride.

“Hm, sorry about that,” The human embodiment of a colour wheel says with an apologetic pout.

“Oh, don’t worry I’m sure I can find another place, it isn’t your fault,” you wave your hand around giving him your second or third genuine smile of the day. He mumbles a shy ‘okay’ before heading right, away from you.

“Can you see if there’s any place on the other floors?” You reluctantly ask, after all you had never gone to other floors unless it was to buy snacks because the queues on the 4th floor were too long or to find unoccupied bathrooms.

Diane finds you an opening for the floor above. You thank her and move back to catch the elevator doors right before they close, swiftly slipping in towards a surprised figure, a big figure. You mumble a quick apology after bumping into him. When you turn your head to look at him he gives you what you assume to be his own equivalent of the barely noticeable smile you gave Diane a few minutes ago.

The ride takes a few seconds. You rush out the second the opening of the doors is big enough for you slip past if you just take a deep breath in. Another second goes by where you feel disoriented. The floor layout is not that different from the one beneath but the place looks far more cramped than what you expected. Don’t writers like to be alone? In their own space?

You watch as Mr. Big gives yet another one of his glances, you haven’t figured out how to describe them yet, you don’t know if you’re being judged or just being perceived or whatever it is that writers do.

He goes to the right, so you take the other way. You peruse the space for a place you could sit down to work on your project. Somehow, the writers with their notebooks and laptops seem stingy about letting you settle down despite how packed the floor already is.

For every glance you take at a potential working spot you receive three glances and these ones you know to be of the judgy kind. You walk and walk only to end up on square one. Just to make sure, you do another round and another one as if you were in a full parking lot waiting for one of the cars to magically pull out for you to get a place. By your third tentative walk, the one where you put the most effort to seem approachable and nice, someone takes pity on you.

It seems it’s not only his stature that is big but so is his heart.

“Oh god, thank you!” You sigh, sliding into Mr. Big’s little corner which faces backwards from the café.

“It was starting to look... sad.” He gives you a brief look before focusing back on his laptop screen.

“It wouldn’t have been, if you writers were more welcoming,” you scoff, shrugging off your jacket, the rustling brings your actions to his focus.

A delicate slender hand pushes against his glasses as he leans back, “You’re quite the daredevil, huh?”

“What? Why would you say that?”

“I don’t know, slipping past closing elevator doors and sitting down to probably do something noisy with a lot of... “ He takes a look at your stash of materials, “things while surrounded by silence seeking writers. Those things make me say that.”

“That’s a very boring view on action. Also the concept of this building is literally to allow anyone to work anywhere.”

“Sure, you’re right but just because that’s their goal doesn’t mean it turns out that way. This place is no different from high school, certain spaces have been sort of ‘claimed’.”

“And you expect me to act like a good teenage girl and not start trouble?”

“Your words, not mine.”

“Aren’t you a writer? You should know certain words can imply certain things,” you say matter of factly and receive a disjointed but delightful laugh as his hand fists to cover his wide smile.

“Anything else you know about writers that you would like to share?”

“You might end up making a character out of me, or a scene out of my situation.” You’re playing on stereotypes but for all you know they could be true. You lay out your material on the table forcing him to scoot a bit. He doesn’t protest and you appreciate that, so you give me a genuine tight lipped ‘thank you’ smile.

“So what are you doing?” He asks, lowering his computer screen a bit.

“A collage.”

“Of what?”

“I don’t really know yet. I’m just figuring it out as I go.” You stare at the big pile of magazines, newspapers and flyers you managed to collect over the past month. Something has to come out of it. “What about you?”

“Pretty similar actually, I just came here to write, figuring it out as I go you know.” He picks up a piece of paper nearest to him, a green flyer. “Do you even know what it says?” He holds it up to you. The text is in Arabic.

“No, I don’t.”

“Wouldn’t you want to know? I mean the work will be tied to you.” He questions.

“It doesn't matter, it’s not like anyone will see this,” you mumble, snatching the flyer from him.

“Someone should, I don’t know much about collages, actually I know nothing, but I like what I see so far.”

“What exactly do you see?” You probe.

“Ummm… uhhhh… it’s– there’s branches and,” he leans over to get a better look and hesitates “tentacles? Okay, so maybe I don’t know what it is, but I still stand by it. It’s nice to look at.”

“Would you give it as a gift to someone?” You probe even further.

“You know what, I’m just trying to tell you I like it. Like I would totally buy it! So yes, I would give it to someone, myself!” He has an overly cheery voice that encourages more glances your way. The more you look, the more you start thinking they’re watching you and not judging.

“How much?”

He gives you an incredulous expression, he seems both intrigued and confused with behaviour.

You snort a short laugh, “I’m just messing with you. But don’t get me wrong if you do want to buy it then I’m definitely taking offers.”

At that he retreats back into himself and his silence to focus on the blank document page. You shrug it away, you knew his words were too good to be true.

The two of you work in relative silence, your ripping and cutting does add a bit of a soundtrack for the period of time. After an hour or so of working, you move to buy a cinnamon bun, and while you’re at it you buy a second one. You did feel a bit apologetic for disturbing his workspace, you of all people should know.

You place his plate beside him but he’s too engrossed into his writing to provide any response. He does finally whisper a shy ‘thanks’ once he lifts his gaze from the screen. You answer with a nonchalant but truthful ‘no biggie’.

The hours bleed into themselves and soon enough your allocated time is about to run out. You’re quite used to that routine,packing up your material well in time to leave. However, the man in front of you doesn’t seem to have a good grasp of time. Last minute, he hurries to assemble his belongings, swiftly turning around to check that he hasn’t left anything behind, almost knocking down the plate that you manage to catch.

Your elevator ride to the bottom floor is as silent as the one you had earlier. You walk with synchronised strides somehow following the same way after you leave the building. You’re sure one of you is following the other, but as long as you’re concerned you’re taking the way back home. You walk in silence for a few more minutes before you think of asking him where he lives, just to make sure but he beats you to speaking.

“So uhhh, would–” he starts off in a high pitched voice which he masks with a cough, “I meant, would you like to grab a coffee?”

“At 8pm?” Your eyebrows shoot up.

“Or a drink?” He suggests.

“What does coffee or a drink mean?”

“I thought you were good at getting the implications of certain words.” He smirks, which seems out of character, but then again you don’t know him. You’re just curious about something first.

“What did you end up writing?”

“A short story about an avid museum visitor that discovers a collage at an exhibition that has him intrigued.” He chuckles knowing very well it just proves your point. And you smile satisfied to have finally figured out what that particular glance of his meant. He was just taking you in.

“It’s Y/N by the way,” you would have reached out your hand towards him but they’re cold so you compensate with a warm smile Diane would approve of. “And I wouldn’t mind a drink right now.”

“I’m Namjoon and I’m very happy you said that” He punctuates his excitement with a dimple. The same one you would come to grow enamoured with, so much you would make a collage piece out of all the pictures you’ve taken where it is present. In return, he would, just as he did today, unconsciously and deliberately write your works into his stories, and welcome you into his space.

“By the way, when you let me sit with you in your space, were you claiming me then?” You ask out of curiosity and urge to mess with him.

“I– I don’t know what you’re implying. But if you mean me taking pity on you then yes.” You scoff a bit too loud at his response. “But I wouldn’t be opposed to whatever it is you have in mind,” He says, looking down at your quizzical expression with warm eyes and a restrained laugh as he walks closer to you. It seems you’re not the only one who’s good with implications.

thank you for reading my fic, i hope you enjoyed it 🥺 any feedback or comment is welcomed !!

#namjoon #kim namjoon #ficswithluv #bangtanhq #houseofddaeng #bts fluff #bts #btsfanfic #bts fanfiction #namjoon x reader #namjoon fluff #namjoon fanfic #slice of life #mine #namgee

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fandomlovingfreak · 4 years ago

Text

Healing His Heart (12/?)

Young Remus Lupin/Reader

Rating: E for Everyone

Word Count: 1715

MasterList Link I AO3 Link I Wattpad Link I Tiktok Link

Summary: (y/n) is two years younger than him, a popular Slytherin, and Regulus Black’s best friend. Yet he can’t help but be attracted to her bewitching personality and sweet smile. Unfortunately, his er–problem makes it harder to get close to others. Despite his attempts to push her away (for her own good) she seems determined to worm her way into his life.

Enjoy

"What're you two so happy about?" Sirius asks the next morning. Something about his eyes says he knows what went down last night. Remus chooses to ignore it, sitting down next to (y/n).

"I was just telling (y/n) about one of the times I threw a stick, and you ran to get it before realizing what you've done."

"That was only once!" Sirius frowns, taking a large bite of his breakfast.

James chuckles into his pumpkin juice.

"The fact that it happened at all--" Remus pulls (y/n) to his side, grabbing a piece of toast off the platter.

Sirius pouts, "change the subject."

"Quit teasing him, Rem," (y/n) steals the piece of toast from his hand.

"Hey!" Remus watches as she takes a bite, "I was eating that!"

"Bummer," (y/n) finishes off the toast.

"(y/n)," Regulus walks up to the table, "ready for Potions?"

"Oh! I have to run back to my dorm to get my notes. I'll meet you there?"

"You should probably get going then."

(y/n) rolls her eyes, "yeah, yeah." She turns her attention back towards Remus, "see you later?"

"Library?"

(y/n) brushes her lips against his temple, "of course."

He watches her as she rushes out of the Great Hall. Maybe he's stared too far too long where she's disappeared because he hears Sirius's dramatic gasp.

Remus turns towards his friend just as Sirius whisper yells, "You two slept together!"

"What? How-- ?" James and Peter look at him with shock. He brushes his fingers through his bangs.

"How do I know?" Sirius laughs, "you two are not discrete whatsoever."

"I thought we were incredibly discrete--"

"Moons, you had your hands all over her all of breakfast. You're usually a bit more reserved than that."

"That's not a good enough reason to know that--" He flushes.

"Well..." Sirius makes a face, "I may have overheard the two of you last night..."

"You? What? Sirius!" Remus is-- appalled? Embarrassed?

"I didn't stick around, nor did I interrupt! You should be thanking me. If it had been James, he definitely would've barged in without thinking."

"Hey! I would have not!" James elbows Sirius, "I wouldn't have, I promise Moons. It's Peter you should be worried about if you're doing that sort of activity in the dorm."

"Where else would I--?" He stops himself, unsure if he wants to know their answers but somewhat curious despite his reservation.

"Empty classrooms, closets," Sirius names places on his fingers.

"The common room in the early morning," James joins in.

"Hold up? Was that what that noise was last month at two A.M.?" Sirius asks, looking impressed with his friend.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," James hides a smirk behind his pumpkin juice.

"Yeah, I'm not having sex in any of those places." Maybe it's the ridiculous romantic in him, but he can't imagine doing anything sexual outside of a bedroom. Besides, (y/n) deserved even the little bit of romance he could put together in their current environment.

Sirius raises his eyebrows, obviously not convinced, "sometimes there are no other options."

He snorts, "I think I can control myself enough to get back to the dorm."

The other two exchange a look, seeming like they don't entirely believe that declaration.

***

"I have a brilliant prank to pull on the Slytherins," Sirius whispers to him in class.

Remus half hears this as he frantically scribbles down notes, "yeah?"

"Are you listening?" Sirius hisses.

Remus makes a noise in the back of his throat, hoping it seems like he is.

"Moony!" Sirius elbows him.

"Mister Black!" McGonagall's shrill voice rings through the classroom.

Sirius looks up sheepishly, "Yes, ma'am?"

"Do you have something to tell the class?"

"No, ma'am." He smiles in her direction.

"Good. Do you know the answer to the question I just asked?"

"No, ma'am..."

"Pity. How about you, Mister Lupin?"

"Gamp."

"Excellent. Perhaps if you paid a little more attention, Mister Black, you'd have known the answer."

"Sorry..." Sirius's usually pale cheeks are stained pink.

Remus gives him a look, going back to his notes.

"I'll tell you aft--"

Sirius is shut up by a shrill, "Mister Black!"

"Sorry, ma'am..."

***

"What was the brilliant prank that almost got you detention?" Remus asks as they're walking from Transfiguration.

"Oh yeah! I thought it would be hilarious to charm their robes to look like Gryffindor robes. Reg was acting like the worst thing that could possibly happen to him would be being forced to wear Red and Gold... and well, I want to make the nightmare true."

"That's your whole plan?"

"Do you not think its great?" Sirius scoffs.

"I dunno. It seems pretty harmless, honestly." Their pranks had been legendary their entire time at Hogwarts. Why stop at a simple charm? "it would be more brilliant if we charmed them to be invisible." The words leave his lips before he can stop them. This could be pushing the limits of pranking.

Sirius grins, smacking him affectionately on the shoulder, "you're a genius, Moons! That would be perfect!"

Remus worries his lip between his teeth, feeling like he couldn't take back the words. The idea was in Sirius's head now, and once Sirius caught the scent of an idea that he liked, he tended not to let it go.

***

The prank logistics are laid out in the deep, dark night in the Gryffindor Common Room. Once the final fourth-year girl, with a stack of books the size of a mountain, leaves the common room, the boys huddle together at the table.

"I've researched the spell. It shouldn't be too difficult," Sirius lays out a book with the instructions for the spell.

Remus stares down at the book with the rest of them. He can't believe that Sirius had taken the time-- well, actually, he isn't that surprised he took the time and effort for this prank. Sirius always seemed to choose any distraction over school.

"Who's going to cast it?" Peter asks, looking nervous.

"I will, of course." Sirius grins.

"When?" James pulls the book towards him, moving his glasses up his nose.

"After dessert."

***

"You can't tell (y/n) anything!" Sirius looks at him seriously.

"I'm definitely not letting you turn my girlfriend's robes invisible, Pads." Remus leans back in his chair. The thought of anyone seeing her the way he gets to irritates him. Nope, it's not happening.

"How--"

"I'll get her to sit by us. I refuse to let you prank her like that."

Sirius sighs, "fine. You know you're acting awfully protective for after the Full Moon."

Remus frowns, "She's my girlfriend! How can you blame me?"

Sirius makes a disgusted noise, "you're no fun in a relationship."

***

Remus watches as (y/n) walks down the hallway towards him. Just as she's passing by, he tugs her into the dark corner.

(y/n) nearly screams in surprise, but he covers her mouth with his hand. She stares up at him for a second before she registers it's just him. Remus removes his hand from her mouth, smiling sheepishly.

"What in the world are you doing?" she lightly smacks his chest.

"Don't wear your robes tonight at dinner, love." Remus pulls at her sleeve.

(Y/n) frowns, "what do you mean don't wear my robes to dinner? What are you scheming, Remus Lupin?"

He grins, "just trust me. Actually, come and sit by me tonight at dinner just in case."

"What are you planning, Remus?" Her frown deepens.

"Can't tell you. Would ruin all the fun."

"Nothing about what you're saying sounds like fun."

"Just— sit with me tonight. I'll give you one of my spare robes—"

"You think your spare robes," she tries not to smile, "is going to fit me? I'll be tripping every other step. Have you not recognized I am shorter than you?"

"I can fix that—"

"My god, Remus. What the hell are you planning?"

"I can't have you ruining the fun."

"So you're scheming against my house then?"

He laughs, "you'll see. Just follow me. I don't want you to get caught in the crossfire."

"You're ridiculous, you know."

"I am very aware."

She is drowning in the robes he gives her. But he kind of likes it. Likes seeing her in his clothing, even if it is funny how the sleeves cover her hands. With a wave of his wand, he shrinks the robes just enough to look presentable.

"This is so stupid. I look ridiculous."

He wraps his arms around her waist, leaning his chin against her shoulder as she examines the robes in the mirror.

"What do you mean? They fit better now."

(Y/n) rolls her eyes, "I mean— Gryffindor ? It doesn't look right on me at all."

Remus rolls his eyes, "that's the problem?"

"Of course," she turns around in his arms, "I've never been a fan of red."

Remus laughs, pulling her close to press his lips against hers.

"Oi! What're ya doing?" James walks into the room with Sirius and Peter close behind.

"What does it look like?" Remus growls back.

"Wait— is (y/n) wearing Gryffindor robes ?" Sirius comes closer to examine the familiar red fabric.

"Unfortunately." (Y/n) quips back.

"You told her!" James points an accusing finger at Remus.

"I told her nothing. Just don't want the two of you hexing my girlfriend."

"So we're dressing her up as one of our own then, eh?" Sirius laughs, pulling at her sleeve.

(y/n) pulls her arm away from him, squinting. "What are you planning to do?"

James and Sirius share a look, "we are not telling you. You'd run off to little Reggie the moment we did. Gotta make sure she doesn't runoff. Keep an eye on her."

"Like Remus will let go of her for even a moment." James snickers.

"Shut up," Remus, though, doesn't let go of (y/n) 's hand.

***

Remus had attempted to pull her onto his lap at dinner, to which (y/n) shoved him away with a laugh. "As if Lupin."

"It was worth the try."

No one really notices (y/n) is at the Gryffindor table, too used to the Marauders doing as they please.

And true to what Sirius had joked about, Remus didn't keep his hands from her at all. Usually, his hand resting on the top of her thigh, but occasionally he moved it to hold her hand in his or rest his hand next to hers, making sure they were touching at all times.

Around dessert, Remus, Sirius, and James share a look before Sirius is snickering. He says something under his breath, waving his wand under the table, and—

Peals of shrieks come from the Slytherin table.

(Y/n) sits up straighter trying to see what's happening at her house's table. One girl ducks down under the table, a few of the guys try to cover up—

"What did you do?" She looks over at Remus, obviously demanding an answer.

"A simple hex that turns clothing invisible—"

"Remus!" (Y/n) stands from the bench, "why would you do this?" She looks at James and Sirius, looking for an explanation from them.

"Don't look at us! It was your boyfriend's idea—"

Fuck.

"I would expect cruelty from those two," her burning eyes turn towards him, "but I would never have assumed you would think up something so horrible, Remus Lupin."

Maybe it's the disappointment in her eyes or how clearly she displays her outrage, but he feels cold shame run down his body.

"(Y/n)—it was a harmless prank—"

"Harmless?" Her voice has an edge of rage in the tone, "what is harmless about this? Do you really think public humiliation is harmless ?"

"No, but—"

"What the fuck else is this besides cruelty? You're seventeen years old! What is funny about embarrassing children to you?"

He opens his mouth then closes it, not being able to figure out how to respond to that. James and Sirius begin to laugh.

"And you!" She turns her rage towards them. They immediately shut up, "Sirius! That's your brother! And James, I don't have any words for you. You're such an ass. All four of you should be ashamed of yourselves." She climbs over the bench, stomping out of the Great Hall. The rest of the hall, minus the Slytherin's have stopped eating, all attention on the Marauders.

"(Y/n)!" Remus tries to scramble after her but is stopped by McGonagall's stern voice.

"Sit down, Mr. Lupin." He turns around, feeling like he's been dunked in an ice bath, "Based on Ms. (y/l/n) 's outburst, I can infer this prank was the work of the four of you, am I correct?"

James, Sirius, and Peter nod slowly. He feels numb. "As Ms. (y/l/n) has already said everything I would have. Quite a bit angrier than I would have dared to . I am sure you understand the severity of your actions and the punishment that comes. I'll see the four of you in detention every Sunday for a month, then."

"I can't believe she—" Sirius is enraged over (y/n)'s yelling after the prank.

"She wasn't wrong, Sirius," Remus's been trying to figure out what to do about (y/n) during the rest of dinner and as they walked back to the Gryffindor dorms. He feels awful . There's no way she'll stay with him after this... It terrifies him to think he may have pushed away the... love of his life. And over a stupid prank of all things.

"What do you mean she wasn't wrong?" Sirius is pissed, but Remus knows he'll get over it. Even if (y/n) cost them their Sundays for a month, (y/n) is still like Sirius's little sister.

"It was childish. A really stupid prank. Some of those kids are first years, Sirius."

Sirius considers this for a moment, "but we didn't prank her!"

"They're her friends... wouldn't you be angry if someone did something like that to one of us? Or to Gryffindor?"

"Well, obviously—"

"Then use your imagination to see why she's mad." Anger bubbles in his chest. He should never have suggested the invisible part of the prank. Sirius wanting to hex their robes to look like their own was enough! Why couldn't he control his damn tongue?

#Remus Lupin #Remus Lupin/reader #Remus Lupin x reader #harry potter #harry potter fanfic #harry potter fanfiction #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #x reader #sirius black #james potter #marauders #marauders era #marauders fanfic #marauders fanfiction

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vannahfanfics · 3 years ago

Text

Doting

Category: General Fluff

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Characters: Eri, Shota Aizawa, Toshinori Yagi

Hey, everyone! I am super excited to present my story for the EraserMight Mini-Bang! I had two wonderful partners for this event, Cam and apricot, and you can find their arts here and here!

Shota pushed himself away from his desk with a groan, rubbing his tired eyes with the heels of his palms. The joints of his fingers ached from hours of tapping away at a keyboard, yet Shota still had quite a ways to go before he finished constructing the term’s report on his class’ progress for the administration. There was a lot to discuss, especially with the persistent villain activity inadvertently causing them to show explosive growth, and this report would be a verifiable thesis by the time that the teacher finished. However, despite the pain of the assignment, Shota could not help but feel proud that his students were displaying such advancement that he could fill pages upon pages with praise for them.

Right as he gathered the will to get back to work, he heard the pitter-patter of little feet. His lips immediately curled into a smile, partly because of the adorable sound and partly because of the realization that he wouldn’t be getting back to work anytime soon. He swiveled in the desk chair just as Eri came trotting through the door, her long silvery-white hair swishing around her knees and the stuffed bunny that Nemuri had bought for her not too long ago clutched in her hand. She was dressed in a pair of worn blue overalls with a pink-and-white spotted shirt underneath, complete with some cute pink-and-white sneakers. She did look very cute, so Shota mentally thanked Nemuri for her fashion sense.

“Eraserhead!” the girl cried, running right up to him to grip his knee with sparkling red eyes. Using the other arm, she hugged the bunny to her chest; its fur was beginning to fray and become tinged with dirt, and Shota would have to pry it out of her arms to throw it in the wash soon. I’m beginning to think like a doting parent, he thought in amusement. He supposed someone had to for the little girl. He leaned forward as she gazed up at him expectantly. “Eraserhead, did you forget? You’re supposed to take me to the park today!”

Oh shit. Shota had forgotten. Still, he wasn’t going to let Eri know that.

“Of course not,” he said smoothly, straightening up and ruffling her hair affectionately. The edges of Eri’s smile curled up happily as his large, calloused hand weaved through the silky silvery-white strands. “I was just finishing up some schoolwork. Did you bring the stuff to do your hair?”

Eri nodded and dug into the pockets of her overalls to reveal a small brush and a collection of barrettes and ponytails. She dropped them onto the computer desk while Shota stood from his chair, stretching his arms above his head and bending back slightly. He groaned in satisfaction as his vertebrae popped in succession, alleviating the stiff pain that had made a home in his spine. “All right. Let’s get Midnight so she can… Oh.” His voice faltered as he looked around the teacher’s lounge only to find that it was empty aside from himself and the child. A spike of panic gushed through his blood vessels, filling him with cold dread.

“Um… Eraserhead, Miss Midnight isn’t here, and neither is Mister Mic. Who’s gonna do my hair?” Eri asked while spinning a lock of her hair around her tiny index finger. Shota gulped, wracking his brain frantically. He always recruited Nemuri or Hizashi to style the child’s hair; Shota didn’t possess the delicateness for that. They’d obviously headed home while he was busy typing up his report, and they wouldn’t appreciate being dragged all the way back just to do Eri’s hair. He sucked in a breath through his nose, resigning himself to the task ahead of him.

Then he flopped back down on the chair and patted his thigh as an indication for Eri to climb into his lap.

“I am.”

Eri scrunched her eyes suspiciously, looking very perturbed by the development. Still, she obediently moved to clamber into his lap. She continued to clutch the bunny, so she only had one hand to grip the arm of the chair and try to haul herself up. After a few times of slipping back down, Shota just grabbed her underneath her armpits and pulled her up to settle him on his lap. She settled herself in, sitting the bunny on her lap and smoothing down its ears.

“I’m gonna do Bunny’s hair, then,” she chirped while grabbing one of the barrettes to clip it to the tuft of white fur atop the stuffed animal’s head. Shota chuckled— she really was cute— but all the adorableness in the world wasn’t going to save him from the daunting trial before him. While Eri busied herself with using her fingers to comb through the stuffed bunny’s fur, Shota’s hands hovered over her mane of silvery hair, not even sure where to begin.

A brush. A brush is a good start, he decided. Shota picked up the brush and began teasing it through Eri’s hair, careful not to tug too hard and hurt her while easing out the knots. Eri hummed and kicked her heels against the computer chair as she played with her bunny, and he was grateful that he could at least do that right. Eventually, though, the brush glided seamlessly through the silky strands, and Shota couldn’t put off the inevitable forever.

He awkwardly bunched up a chunk of her hair and secured it with a ponytail, then let it go. It flopped loosely against her head with a few strands sticking out at odd angles.

He tugged it free with a heavy sigh, running his other hand over his eyes. This is going to be harder than I thought.

“Eraserhead? You’re here awfully late,” a voice piped up suddenly.

Shota looked over the walls of his cubby to see Toshinori strolling in, his coat draped over his skinny arm. When Eri heard his voice, she sat up on Shota’s legs to crane her head over the cubby wall and wave happily.

“Hello, Mister All Might!”

“Why, hello there, Eri. You look lovely today,” the teacher smiled as he walked around the desks to greet her. Giggling, Eri flopped back down on Shota’s lap and held up her bunny, which had several barrettes stuck in the tuft of cottony fur on its head. “Oh, Mr. Bunny looks great today, too. Did you do his hair?” he asked, squatting down to inspect the stuffed animal appraisingly.

“Yeah! Eraserhead is supposed to be doing my hair, but he seems to be having trouble.”

Shota covered his face with a hand as it turned bright pink with embarrassment. Kids really had no filter. Toshinori chuckled and straightened up, giving Shota a sympathetic look.

“Well, cut him some slack. I’m sure he just wants to make sure it looks extra perfect.”

Damn, he’s really good with kids. He knows the perfect things to say, Shota marveled, an eyebrow inching up his head as a plan hatched in his mind. Toshinori didn’t have children— at least not that Shota knew of— but perhaps the man had a little bit more experience in the complex art of doing little girls’ hair. Toshinori seemed to sense Shota’s great discomfort with the situation, as he shuffled around to the side of the chair to survey the barrettes and clips littering the desk.

“Eraserhead, would you like some help?”

“Oh, God, yes,” Shota blurted immediately, too overwhelmed with relief to maintain some sense of dignity.

Toshinori chuckled and retrieved the brush, leaning over Shota’s shoulder while he began brushing Eri’s hair to gather it into one big hand.

“I can’t say I’m familiar with things like this, but it can’t hurt to try,” he smiled. “How about we try some pigtails, Eri?”

“Okay!”

Shota reclined in the chair, melting with relief as he began to think that his dilemma may just be solved.

However, it soon became clear that Toshinori was about as familiar with doing little girls’ hair as Shota. When he stepped back, one of the pigtails was much bigger than the other, and the left one sat at least two inches lower than the right. Toshinori smiled sheepishly when Eri tugged at the skinny pigtail, then looked at him doubtfully.

“Um… I don’t think this is right…”

“I’m sorry,” Toshinori groaned, his shoulders falling as he tipped back his head in defeat. “It seems that there is more nuance to this than I realized…” Sighing, Shota slipped the ponytails out of her hair, letting the waves of silver hair fall loose for them to start over.

“All right. It’s time to pull out the big guns,” Shota decided. He grabbed his phone to pull up the ultimate source of information on the Internet— YouTube. Many young fathers and mothers posted tutorials on doing their daughters’ hair for those who were new to the game. Shota was more than willing to swallow his pride and peruse the videos rather than continue embarrassing himself. He picked a promising video and propped it up, and he and Toshinori watched the tutorial with great interest. The man pulled his daughter’s hair into perfect pigtails with almost frightening ease, talking through it step-by-step.

“Well, he certainly doesn’t make it sound hard,” Toshinori frowned and looked back to Eri’s mane of silvery-white hair. His doubtful look certainly didn’t inspire much confidence.

After taking a deep breath, Shota restarted the video and tried to replicate the father’s actions. It turned out better than Toshinori’s attempt, but the pigtails were still a little uneven and lopsided. Eri looked back at him when he pulled her hair free again, looking perturbed.

“Eraserhead, it’s okay…. You don’t have to do my hair. We can just go to the park…”

“No. You said you wanted your hair done, so I’m going to do it,” Shota asserted firmly and started the video over again. It was really less about making Eri happy and more that he was frustrated he couldn’t do something so simple as pigtails. His heart went out to all the single fathers out there bungling through the same struggle. Eri turned back around, pouting a little, but Shota was determined.

This time, he and Toshinori did one side each.

“Did… Did we do it?” Toshinori asked hesitantly as Eri shook her head back and forth slightly. Her pigtails swished over her shoulders; they sure looked even, and the ponytails didn’t slip free with her movements.

“I think so,” Shota said with relief, sinking into the chair. He picked up two pink flower barrettes and clipped them onto the ponytails, and Eri reached up to touch the smooth plastic with her fingertips.

“Well, Eri? Did we do a good job this time?” he said as he pulled up his cellphone camera and allowed her to look at her reflection. She grabbed the phone with her small hands to inspect herself, and Shota felt his heart flutter with happiness when she beamed wide in the screen.

“Yeah! It looks great!” she nodded. “Can we all take a picture together?”

“Sure.” They adjusted themselves so they could all fit in the frame, with Shota’s arm slung around Eri’s waist and Toshinori over his shoulder, smiling shyly and throwing up a peace sign. Eri was smiling hugely, her eyes scrunched up with delight. She immediately grabbed at the phone to look as the shutter sounded, squealing happily at the photograph. Shota stroked one of her pigtails as she kicked her feet excitedly.

“Thanks, Eraserhead, Mister All Might! I love it,” Eri said, then gave Shota his phone back. She slid down from the chair, clutching her bunny to her chest, and then looked up at Shota hopefully. “Can we go to the park now?”

“Yes, yes,” Shota said, patting his legs before rising from the chair. He winced, the stiffness from his hours in the chair returning with a vengeance. He rubbed his sore back muscles with a groan, then looked at Toshinori with a wan smile. “Thanks for your help.”

“Oh, of course!” Toshinori replied, waving his hands submissively. He then smiled down at Eri and flashed her a wink. “I couldn’t leave a lady in such distress, after all.” Eri giggled, hugging her rabbit, and then wiggled shyly.

“Mister All Might, would you like to go to the park with us, too?”

Toshinori pretended to think about it for a second, putting his hand on his chin and looking up at the ceiling. Eri frowned at his silence, her lips beginning to poke out into a pout. He then grinned widely.

“Of course! It’s a wonderful day. In fact, I think I just might have enough money for ice cream afterward…”

“Yay! Did you hear that, Eraserhead? Ice cream!” she squealed delightedly. She spun on her toes, holding her bunny over her head, before sprinting out of the room demanding, “Come on, come on!” Shota chuckled at her instantaneous burst of energy and shook his head at Toshinori.

“Wow. She’s going to end up spoiled if she starts to hang out with you more.”

“I can’t help it. Little kids are my ultimate weakness,” the blond laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. He smiled fondly, watching as Eri jumped back into the doorframe to beg for them to hurry up. “Besides, after what she’s been through… Doesn’t she deserve to be?”

“Yeah,” Shota nodded and slipped his hands in his pockets. “She really does.”

He supposed he had better learn how to do her hair soon, for he had a feeling he’d be taking more trips to the park as time went on. He really was starting to think like a doting parent, but that was okay. That was no less than what Eri deserved.

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

#erasermight #shota aizawa #aizawa shota #toshinori yagi #yagi toshinori #eri #my hero academia #mha #boku no hero academia #bnha

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thebigqueer · 4 years ago

Note

prompt: solangelo Nico thinks he has to protect Will only for Will to j kinda shoot the problem and nicos all ??? but also 🥰🥰🥰

dojkalskjdflkjsfdljkfd love it!!

thanks for the prompt!! i hope you like this!!

tw guns, shooting

It’s an awfully chilly day in New York City, the air crisp against Nico face. The setting sun glimmers over the skyscrapers, blindingly bright. The son of Hades wishes he brought some shades, because if he’s going to be in New York City with his boyfriend, who quite literally looks like he’s a droplet of the sun, there’s no way he won’t be going blind any time soon.

Will’s hand bleeds warmth into the son of Hades’ palm, his calloused fingers brushing against Nico’s own. Nico can’t help the smile that flickers over his face. It isn’t often that he and Will go out for dates, so he relishes the little moments they have for themselves. Especially since they’re about to head to Tartarus, they’ve made it a priority to go out every now and then, just to let each other know that they’re here for each other always.

They’re scavenging their way through the streets to find that pizza place Will’s always obsessed with. People crowd into the streets, their bodies hurrying to get to their respective destinations, and Nico can’t help but to notice how normal the city looks. How carefree society is.

It’s so much more relaxing being a normal city person than to be a demigod. He feels unknown here with Will, in the midst of the confusion of New York City. He feels the pressure of fate ease from his shoulders, just for the moment, with Will’s hand in his and their shoulders touching and Will’s animated talk of Hades knows what.

Will tugs at Nico’s fingers, pulling affectionately, and some strange, golden joy blooms in his stomach just by the simple gesture. Will leans his head against Nico, sidling up closer. “After pizza maybe we could got to Times Square, or maybe to that M&M place. Ooh, or maybe Central Park?”

“Will, I highly doubt we have enough money to last us so long.”

“Then let’s just wander around New York City and do nothing but talk. I don’t care.” He stops walking for a second, stepping closer to Nico. Will peers into the sone of Hades’ eyes, blue on brown, and Nico’s chest tightens with admiration. “I just want to enjoy this with you. I feel like we haven’t had a real break in forever. Those rendezvous to the Strawberry Field don’t count.”

Nico smiles, relishing the warmth of Will’s body close to his. He knows what Will means; they haven’t had an entire day to just themselves, what with Apollo having his drama to deal with and then getting prepared to head into Tartarus.

His lips part open to say something, but a prickle at the back of his neck immediately stops him from making another move. He frowns and pulls away from Will, looking around.

Upon noticing Nico’s concerned expression, Will groans and shoves his face into his hands. “Don’t tell me there’s a monster here.” He gazes up at the sky, eyebrows furrowed, as if prepared to get on his knees to beg to the gods. “Please, just one day. One day. Without monsters.”

Of course, the gods don’t seem to hear Will. Or, if they do, then they don’t care. Nico’s about to nudge Will and tell him it’s stupid when, suddenly, he spots the issue: a pretty empousa ambling by on the opposite side of the road, her eyes focused on Will and Nico.

Long, dark hair ribbons down her back in black waves, and her dark skin glows in the setting sun. Her donkey leg and Celestial Bronze leg, however, destroy the look. When she realizes the son of Hades is watching her, she quickly turns her face and pretends not to have noticed him.

Will’s eyes are also focused on the empousa, mouth pulled down in an irritated frown. “Oh, gods, an empousa? Seriously?”

Nico peers over at Will, nervousness bubbling under his skin. He doesn’t want anything to happen to his boyfriend, especially not since he’s already anxious enough about Tartarus. The guilt of bringing Will weighs on him, despite the fact that the blond has already promised that he’s here to stick around for Nico.

But it doesn’t matter how much Will tells Nico that he’ll be able to handle himself. If something goes wrong, then it’ll be Nico’s fault he brought them down there at all. It’ll be his fault that Will might die.

It’ll be his fault that another person he loves will die. And he can’t have that.

He’s tried convincing Will to not come, but it doesn’t matter how much he pushes; Will is too stubborn and too caring. Neither of those have to be necessarily bad traits for a person, but Nico finds that when the two are paired together, it can lead to some heated debates.

Looking at Will now, with the empousa at their backs, Nico feels the weight of the guilt pressing over him. He wants nothing more than to protect him, keep the son of Apollo from any harm. He doesn’t deserve anything bad to happen.

But there is nothing more that Will hates than having someone think he needs protecting. He never talks about it, but Nico senses that he’s got his insecurities about being a healer. He knows that Will struggles to feel useful.

So Nico states his plan out casually: “You stay here and make sure there aren’t any other monsters around. I’ll go talk to her, hopefully kill her. She can’t exactly impact me, since her flirting won’t work.”

Will frowns, a confused, blank look on his face. “What?” he asks. “You just want me to... stay here?”

A tension stretches between the boys. Nico doesn’t respond, hesitant to say the right thing, and Will waits, eyes turning cloudier. With ever second that Nico doesn’t say anything, he can tell Will’s even more offended.

Behind him, hears the metal clunking of the empousa’s leg against the pavement, and he knows he has to hurry. The more time he spends talking to Will, the more likely they’ll both die today.

“Hey, it’s not like that,” Nico promises hurriedly, placing his fingers over Will’s. “It’s just that... well, I mean, if she flirts with me, I’m not as subject to be under her spell. It’s just about strategy, you know?”

Nico turns, brandishing his sword to face the girl, who’s made her way across the street. She smiles, lips red in the sunlight.

“Hi, boys,” she purrs, wiggling her fingers in their direction.

“This is about strategy?” Will asks behind Nico, his voice quiet as if he doesn’t truly believe that.

“Yes,” Nico says, a little irritated now. Why are they even arguing about this in the middle of a fight between an empousa?

The girl pouts. “Aw, hey. Don’t point that thing at me. I’m not looking to hurt you, handsome.” She steps closer to the demigods, eyes fluttering innocently.

“Get behind me,” Nico whispers to Will.

But it seems that that’s exactly what Will was expecting. “Right,” he mutters. “So this isn’t about protecting me.”

Nico twists around, frustration building up in his body, and is about to tell Will that this isn’t the time to fight about this now, that he doesn’t understand why he’s getting upset. But just as he locks eyes with Will, ready to confront him, the son of Apollo pulls out a gun.

Nico’s eyes widen, and for a moment he’s almost nervous his boyfriend is about to pull it on him.

But then he aims it at the empousa, clicks, and shoots, all the while with a grim look in his eyes. Nico twists just as the loud POP! of the gun echoes in the area. After a few more rounds of shooting, the empousa finally goes down, all the while crying, “All I did was call you handsome!”

Nico’s eyes widen. That was over really fast. He didn’t even know Will had a gun, much less that he actually knew how to use it. Watching the monster convert into sand before his very eyes, Nico’s fairly impressed, and maybe even a little exhilarated. A boastful smile blooms across his mouth, pride blooming in his chest for his boyfriend.

He turns to tell Will how surprised he is, how cool that was, when he realizes Will’s only staring back at him with a frown. Guilt sweeps down over Nico. He didn’t meant to make Will feel bad; all he wanted was to make sure nothing bad happened to him. But Nico supposes he should have considered how that looked to Will.

“Will, look, I-”

The blond merely shakes his head, eyes closed, indicating that he doesn’t want to even hear what Nico’s about to say. He turns around, pulling his gun back in his pocket, and starts walking.

“Will, please, let me-”

Will pauses, suddenly rigid. Then he looks at Nico from where he stands, only tilting his head in Nico’s direction. “I don’t really wanna know. Let’s just forget about it.”

And he continues walking, drifting farther and farther away from Nico.

They were close only moments ago.

#lmao this got angstier than you probably meant it to be alksdfkjlsfd #nico di angelo #will solace #solangelo fic #solangelo fanfic #my writing #fic prompts #solace-seekers tag #asks #will x nico #nico x will #rick riordan #riordanverse #tw guns #tw shooting

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paladin-lynx · 4 years ago

Text

Go Godot, Yeah!

Author’s Notes: This was inspired by Certified Weirdo’s Ace Attorney mod for Friday Night Funkin’ and a comment about it from a friend of mine that was something akin to, “The thing about the mod is that I can totally imagine Godot going into back alleys and rap battling against other lawyers because he’s just Like That.” And I couldn’t get the idea out of my head, so here we are. Go show Friday Night Funkin’ and Certified Weirdo some love, too! I banged this out when I had some free time during work, lol. I can continue this or other FNF-inspired pieces if people show interest. But for now, enjoy!

Ships Involved: Phoenix Wright x Miles Edgeworth (WrightWorth/NaruMitsu) if you squint

Setting: Non-specific, but I had it in my head that it’s during Trials and Tribulations (AA3) with Miles coming back to America early.

Trigger/Content Warnings: None

CONTAINS VARIOUS SPOILERS FOR ORIGINAL ACE ATTORNEY TRILOGY!

“It’s good to have you back, Miles.”

Miles blinked before hurriedly averting his gaze, clearing his throat. “Yes, well...I suppose it is nice to be back, in some ways.”

Phoenix smiled, able to spot the tinge of pink in Miles’s cheeks. Miles could take praise about his prosecuting skills just fine – he’d even gloat when someone commented on how talented he was – but when it came to something softer and more sentimental like this, he without a doubt found himself lost for words. Phoenix couldn’t help finding it kind of adorable, which of course led to him taking any opportunity he could to get Miles to blush.

It had been a while since they’d gotten to simply spend time together, but they both felt too antsy to just sit around and talk. And so they’d agreed to take a walk together and catch up. It had been a while since Miles had mulled around the L.A. streets, but not much had changed. And while their city wasn’t the prettiest or the safest by any means, it was still home. Phoenix knew that Miles felt more at ease overseas with his new responsibilities and with not having to deal with the bullshittery that came with being a lawyer in America, but Phoenix also knew that this would always be home for them. Miles would always have a place – and people – to come back to.

They walked rather aimlessly, having no specific destination in mind, although they’d have to get back to their respective homes eventually. But they soon found themselves at the train station and Phoenix smiled a bit to himself. He had barely left L.A. before becoming a lawyer, but this station was awfully familiar to him now with how often he had to travel to Kurain Village. He remembered when Maya had first left and he’d raced here to catch her before she was gone, making her promise that they’d see each other again. Of course, their reunion after that wasn’t the most ideal with Maya once again ending up behind bars, but now years later Phoenix couldn’t bring himself to be too upset with how things had gone. It just seemed par for the course at this point, and he wasn’t sure which was more concerning: the fact that events like that were so commonplace or the fact that he’d become numb to such things.

“Feeling nostalgic, Wright?”

Phoenix was snapped out of his reverie by Miles’s voice and he blinked at the other man. Miles was giving him a knowing half-smile, quirking an eyebrow, and now it was Phoenix’s turn to blush and look away, out at the tracks. “Maybe a bit. I’ve been coming here a lot lately. If you told me a few years ago that I’d be making regular pilgrimages to a village of spirit mediums, I’d call you crazy.”

Miles huffed out a chuckle, pushing his hands into his pants pockets. “I think if anyone told us even the smallest detail of what we’ve been up to since first entering the courtroom, we’d call them crazy. You see why I felt such the urgent need to flee the country.”

Phoenix broke into a little grin, nudging Miles with his elbow. “Including having to fake your own death?”

“You’re never going to let that go, are you?”

“Nope. I mourned you, Miles! You’ve gotta see it from my perspective. You didn’t even give an explanation. You didn’t even say goodbye!”

“Perhaps you should try seeing it from my perspective. I was going through quite a lot. I...wasn’t thinking clearly. I know now that the way I departed hurt people, but it wasn’t exactly on my mind then.”

“I know, I know,” Phoenix replied softly. Despite still being sore at Miles’s rather callous method of running away, Phoenix didn’t want to actually upset him or bring back bad memories. He knew that had been a rough time for Miles.

And so they stood there, on the platform, just watching the tracks in comfortable silence. Phoenix knew there’d be a train zooming by soon enough, but for now it was peacefully quiet.

“Trite!”

Phoenix barely even noticed how his shoulders seemed to instantly stiffen at that familiar voice and infuriating nickname. Furrowing his brow, he slowly turned and sure enough, by one of the shelters on the platform, was Godot with his usual grin, his visor glowing bright red in the low light of the station. Phoenix wouldn’t have questioned running into him in the city considering Godot most likely lived here, too, but he definitely had questions when he noticed the large speakers behind Godot and the microphone in the prosecutor’s hand. And of course, as always, his other hand was occupied by a cup of coffee. It was a miracle this man wasn’t dead yet with the obscene amount of caffeine he consumed.

“Who is that?” Miles asked, squinting slightly at Godot. “He seems familiar somehow...”

“Prosecutor Godot,” Phoenix greeted carefully, also to answer Miles’s question. “What, uh...What are you doing here?”

Godot just continued to grin at them. “I was waiting for you to show up, in fact. A little kitten told me you were heading out this way.”

“I don’t believe that’s how the phrase goes,” Miles commented whilst Phoenix just pulled a face at the choice of words.

“Don’t bother, Edgeworth. He’s just like this.” Phoenix took in a breath and looked to Godot again. Did that mean Godot had just been waiting here for him like some kind of creep? Who could have told Godot where he and Miles were going? Actually, there was one person. “...Maya?”

Godot chuckled, pausing to take a sip of his coffee. “I see you’re just as slow on the uptake outside the courtroom as you are inside it, Trite. Like a toddler seeing a magic trick for the first time.”

“He’s not wrong,” Miles muttered, causing Phoenix to give him a rather harsh nudge with his elbow.

“Whose side are you on?!”

“Well, you did mention he’s a prosecutor, so technically—”

“Oh, can it, Miles,” Phoenix huffed, ignoring the little amused smirk on Miles’s face, even if it made his heart skip a beat or two. He looked back at Godot with a scowl. “Alright, so I’m here. What of it?”

“Think fast,” Godot snickered, tossing something to Phoenix. The defense attorney definitely wasn’t prepared and fumbled for a moment before managing to clamp his hands around the object, frowning down at it.

Miles peeked at it over his shoulder. “A...microphone?” He looked over at Godot – who was still holding his own microphone – seemingly trying to figure out what was happening. Meanwhile, Phoenix was also trying to figure out what the absolute fuck was going on.

“What’s this for?” he asked cautiously, narrowing his eyes over at Godot.

The other man’s grin never wavered and he brandished his microphone. “What do you say to a little competition? A genuine battle between men to see who’s best.”

“Don’t we do that enough during trials?”

“There are countless angles to every person, Trite. Just like how you can spend every day of your life experimenting with brews in your attempts to find perfection. You may be a half-decent lawman, but that’s just one side of you.” Godot tilted his head in amusement. “I’m curious if you can hold your own on a different kind of battlefield. One that requires a bit more coordination than how you have a lucky streak of stumbling into conclusions in the courtroom.”

Phoenix was still lost, mouth opening and closing like a gaping fish. He finally just turned to Miles helplessly. Miles thought for a long moment – Phoenix could practically see the gears turning in his head – before he looked to Phoenix. “I believe...he’s asking you to have a singing contest.”

“Oh no no no,” Godot cut in before Phoenix could even fathom what his companion had said. “Close but no cigar, kid. Not singing. Any poor excuse of a soul can cobble together a tune and kindergarten-level lyrics.” He pointed his microphone at Phoenix. “I want you to rap battle me.”

Phoenix just stared, blinking several times, before looking at Miles again. “Am I dreaming? Or high?”

“No, you’re very much awake and the amount of sane you usually are,” Miles replied, crossing his arms. Phoenix hated how intrigued his friend looked.

Muttering a few choice words under his breath, Phoenix turned back to Godot. “So you came here, set up a speaker and mics, and have just been waiting for me to randomly come here just so you can ask me to rap against you? What’ll that prove? And how the hell is rapping more complicated than singing? It’s just talking to a beat. Anyone can do that.”

“Ha!” Godot shook his head. “So simple-minded, Trite. It’s like you’re still a boy instead of a man, seeing the world through your little keyhole. Rapping requires you to think on your feet. The pace is more urgent. Singing is going through your evidence piece by piece and praying to whatever god you follow that something sticks out to you. Rapping is like having the ultimate penalty hanging over your head the entire time, the guillotine blade waiting to slam down on your sorry neck. So I’ve been curious, Trite...” Godot grinned again. “You think you can keep up with me?”

Something about the way Godot said it, how he still had his microphone pointed at Phoenix like a sword, and that goddamn smug expression on his face lit a fire in Phoenix that he’d never felt before. He had never been the most musically inclined, but someone had to put Godot in his place. And here they were.

So he gritted his teeth and stepped forward, tightening the grip on his microphone. “It’ll be you who’s struggling to keep up with me, stoplight.”

“Ha! That’s the spirit,” Godot cackled, slamming his hand onto a button on the speakers so that they crackled to life.

Miles hummed thoughtfully from where he stood watching. “Ridiculous...But I can’t say this won’t be interesting.”

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smol-and-grumpy · 4 years ago

Text

Teacher Of The Year - P.11

Pairing: Professor Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Heartbroken and restless, she walked into a bar with the full intention of getting smashed but she got more than she bargained for. Much more.

Warnings: NSFW, sex toys

WC: 2699

SERIES MASTERLIST

BECOME A PATRON ~ BUY ME A COFFEE

She wakes up to Dean’s text.

D: Wear it today?

Y/N gets up and takes a shower, and now she’s standing around in her room naked, is kind of excited and anxious at the same time.

Oh my god, she can’t believe that she’s doing this.

Holding the little toy in her hand, she turns it around in her palm, sighs one last time before she touches herself down there, and of course she’s already wet, has been since she woke up to the damn text.

The toy’s not big, a little bigger than the tampons she uses and it doesn’t hurt when she slips it in. She wriggles her hips from side to side, making it comfortable, wriggling until she can barely feel that something is plugged up in her pussy at all.

She then proceeds to wear her panties and skirt. She notices that she’s wearing skirts more often lately but why should she stop. It gave Dean such easy access and she’s not complaining because he isn’t either.

In class, she sits down on the cold chair, has to wriggle again to make herself comfortable.

And now, she waits for Dean to come in, she’s already wet of anticipation.

He comes in a couple of minutes later, all smiles, doesn’t wear his glasses, and the crinkles around his eyes stand out even more. Her heart flutters strangely, of course her pussy flutters, too.

“Hello class. I hope you had a good start this morning.” He greets them as he looks around the room, his gaze rests on her for a couple of seconds before he moves forward with his lecture.

“Okay, would you please open your books to page thirty-seven? There’s a riddle. Anyone tried to solve it yet? If not, do it now. And if yes, you can go on and read the next chapter.” Dean says and looks around.

She’s been watching him, sees when his eyes meet hers. He raises his eyebrow, just one, how can he do that? It’s a question, she knows because she nods subtly.

Dean smiles, his face beams up, and she can’t help but bite back her laugh at the excitement that’s written on his face. This man is slowly but surely growing on her and she can literally feel herself falling more and more for him every day. But she also knows that she shouldn’t, right? Falling for your own professor, that’s not supposed to happen, is it? While her fellow students are reading through the riddle, she too, focuses on the writing. That is until she feels her pussy buzzing to life.

Holy shit.

She presses her thighs together, looks up from the book and glances around the room to see if someone heard anything but all none of them seem to care.

Closing her eyes, she tries to breathe, wrapping herself in the feel of the vibrations and she tries to concentrate on not moaning out too loud. She opens her eyes again, her teeth bite down on her bottom lip and there he is, sitting in his chair in the front and grinning at her. His hand holds something that looks awfully similar to a little remote that’s missing in the box she opened last night.

The vibrations start to get stronger and she sits upright, her hands grips at the desk in front of her and she looks around again, can’t help it, she so hopes that nobody notices. She bites down even harder on her lips, drawing a little blood, and tastes copper on her tongue.

When she looks at Dean, the grin is gone and he licks his lips.

It vibrates even harder now, and she wonders how much harder it can get, she feels like she’s about to burst already.

Squeezing her legs together, Y/N tries to move her hips, searches for friction that isn’t there but her cunt’s throbbing. It’s almost unbearable.

Fuck.

Her orgasm builds up so quickly, and when she presses her legs together harder, she’s almost there. She looks around the room again but no one does seem to care so she stares forward, sees Dean watching her. The grin is back and then he places his index finger on his lips, reminding her to be quiet. She rolls her eyes at that, as if she doesn’t know that she can’t fucking cry out right in the class.

She feels the sensation building and building, she’s standing right on the edge, ready to fall, and grips her desk harder, pressing her legs tighter together. Her toes start to curl up, her legs tremble and then she lets go, bites down on her lips so hard the blood drips down her chin. One splatter of blood drops down to her book.

The buzzing is less intense and she knows it’s because Dean knows that she came, he gives her time to come down from her high, but he’s not taking the good feeling away completely. She’s sure that she’s drenched her panties, will probably have to ditch them for the rest of the day.

Y/N sees Dean hiding the remote and puts it back into his pants pocket, he leaves the vibration on the lowest setting though, the vibrations barely noticeable, but the feeling is great.

Dean takes out his phone from his pocket after, and she can see him typing something in. Seconds later, her phone buzzes next to her.

D: You look so goddamn sexy when you come, sweetheart. I’m so fucking hard just watching you. Can’t wait.

Immediately, her cheeks begin to redden even more, and Dean’s clearing his throat.

“Miss? No texting in class. Thank you.”

Oh that little shit, she thinks, and rolls her eyes at him. Which probably isn’t the greatest thing to do because Dean still has the remote and there’s still over twenty minutes left of the class.

And like she thought he would, Dean walks around, talking to the students about that damn riddle that she didn’t even read because he was fucking distracting her. He holds the book in one hand and the other hand is in his pants pocket.

Every now and then, while he talks to other students, he would turn it up to the maximum, bringing her so close to the edge to only turn it off again. By the end of the class, she’s a mess and sinks into her seat groggily.

Dean waits until the last student’s gone before he winks at her with a cocky grin. “You need help there?” He walks up the couple of steps, waits for her to walk towards him on wobbly legs.

“You’re the worst,” She mumbles, comes to stand next to him.

“I know,” Dean chuckles, “It wasn’t fun, wasn’t it?”

She shoots him a glare and before she can even say something, he grabs at her wrist and places her hand on his bulge. Her pussy starts to tingle again at the feel of his hard cock.

“Feel that?” He whispers, steps closer but stays clear of touching her. However he noses at her temple, whispers deep and low, “All because of you.”

She swallows and there’s a proud feeling in her guts.

“How long till your next class?” He growls and he can’t stay away, she knows that, because he swirls his tongue around her earlobe.

“I-I have thirty minutes,” She stutters.

Dean smiles, “Me too. Want me to help you take it out?” His hand brushes against the fabric of her top, grazing her nipple that peaks against his touch.

“Yes, please.”

Back in his office, Dean sits down in his chair, and tells her to sit on his desk. She does what he tells her, no questions asked. What a fucking good girl.

Y/N places either legs on the armrests of his chair, caging him in and leans back, propping herself up on her elbows.

“I feel like I’m at my OB/GYN.” She says and he has to chuckle at that.

“Well, maybe that’s another kink we can explore when we have more time,” He licks his lips, sees her blushing. Her cheeks turn the same shade as her cunt.

Dean hooks his hand around her thighs, pulls her closer to the edge and then he strokes the inner of her thighs, she squirms against his touch. He lets the tip of his fingers trace along her panties and feels how wet they are from the orgasm and constant teasing.

“You’re soaked, baby.” His voice comes out a little straining, “Love that it’s me that did this to you.” He presses the pad of his fingers on her clit through, rubs circles on it. He then takes them away, sucks them into his mouth, and she whimpers out at that. Dean can’t hide his smirk.

“Love it, too,” She bites on her lips, closes her eyes for a brief moment.

“Let’s take it out, shall we?” He grins, his fingers toying with the crotch of her underwear and pulls them aside, groans a little when he sees her cunt glistening at him.

She bites back a moan when Dean blows air against it. He can be a little shit, he knows.

He leans down a little, his face ghosting in front of her wet heat and he literally smells her arousal. It makes him fucking light headed.

Threading his middle finger through her slick, he dips it in a little, sees her flinch and stops, “You okay?”

“Yeah, god, go on!”

“I’m Dean, not god,” He giggles at his own joke before he pushes his finger in further and she might think that he didn’t see the eye rolling but he did.

She liked to watch him, despite being so turned on, she still watched his face, hard in concentration, the tip of his tongue darting out, resting on the corner of his mouth.

“It’s in there somewhere…” He purses his lips, drilling his finger in deeper, “I can feel it.”

“Fuck, you’re not getting it out, are you? It’s going in deeper!” She breathes hard, tries to focus but the sensation is too overwhelming. She has to throw her head back, closes her eyes.

“Gotta get more in there, hold still,” He places one big hand on her lower abdomen, pressing down a little to make her quit squirming around and then he works two more of his thick fingers in.

Y/N bites down on her bottom lip, squints her eyes when she feels the stretch and Dean wriggles his fingers inside of her too, pushing all the right fucking buttons, almost making her losing it.

“Shit,” She huffs out, watches his head dip lower, watches him sticking his tongue out and licks up her slit, the tip of it twirls around the hood of her clit. She has to throw her head back again at the sensation and catches the sight of a clock on the wall, “Dean! There’s only ten minutes left and I need to run!”

“‘M sorry,” He chuckles, “Couldn’t help myself. You look so fucking delicious, spread out like a goddamn meal,” He sits back up a little, fingers digging around on the inside of her.

“Oh, haha,” Dean smiles, “I have it!”

She can feel his fingers grabbing at something inside, and then he pulls it out with a stupid grin on his face, holds it up to her afterwards for her to see. She knows that she probably could have taken it out faster and she knows that he obviously dragged it out unnecessarily but of course she let him because how could she not? The proud smile on his face is priceless.

Dean fishes out a handkerchief from his pants and she frowns. Who still owns a cotton handkerchief nowadays? He must be reading her thoughts because he smirks, “Shut up, I am a professor, elbow patches and all, I do have cotton handkerchiefs, alright?”

He proceeds to wrap up the vibrator into the handkerchief and places it inside the drawer in his desk, takes out a key and locks it up before he looks back at her. She’s still spread on his desk.

“Baby, as much as I would like to eat you out and make you come three times in a row in the next ten minutes — and shush, I could definitely do that,” He winks, “I’m also dying to fuck you because I don’t think that I’ll be able to concentrate on my next lecture with a a fucking boner in my pants. And there’s not one hot student in sight in my next class, either.”

She snorts out a laugh, “Oh, you’re a charmer, aren’t you?”

Her hands go down on herself, rubs at her clit, fingers trailing along her slit until it disappears in her cunt, “Fuck me, please? Professor?” She stares at him with puppy eyes.

Dean grins, “You know that I can never say no to you, right?” He leans down, meeting her lips, kisses her hard and rough.

Y/N unbuckles his belt while he kisses her, pulls down his zipper and he groans into the kiss at the feeling of her hands wrapping around his throbbing dick. She guides his cock to her pussy, teases it a little before she places it to her opening.

He stands back up, grabs her around her legs and pushes her back as he thrusts his dick into her, making her bite down on her lips to stifle her moans. He hoists her legs up to his shoulders, bites and licks at them as he begins to fuck her deep and hard.

His gaze travels over her body, head tilting to look at the clock, sees that there’s only five more minutes left. “Baby, we’ll make it quick.”

“Al-alright,” She pants and feels Dean’s thumb playing with her clit, his thrusts picks up speed either, fucking harder and faster in to her.

“So good, Jesus, so fucking tight,” He mumbles low and dirty, the slapping of wet skin is loud in the room. “You close? Fuck, I’m gonna—” He bites on his bottom lip, tries to hold it back a little while longer, doesn’t like to come before her, and she knows that.

So she tries to reach that peak, plays with her own nipples, twists and turns them and there it was, the trembling of her thighs, the shaking over her legs, “Shit, shit, oh god, Dean,” Quickly, she clasps a hand over her mouths.

“Now, baby!” Dean grunts out, and she comes, biting into her hand as Dean releases himself inside of her.

He pulls out right after, a thing she absolutely hates because she likes to have him inside forever and always, if she has a say in this.

“Fuck,” Dean chuckles, leans down and kisses her. But only short because he already turns around and gets tissues, rubs over his cock, throws the used cloth into his bin.

Dean helps her up, on her feet, pecks her forehead.

“I need to clean too,” She says, reaches out to grab a tissue but he stops her.

“Nuh-uh,” He says, pecks her nose, “You’re going to class like that. I want you to think of me when my cum runs out of you. Want you to think of how I just fucked you on my desk. Want you to think of how I will fuck you again later tonight.”

He lowers himself on his knees, lifts up her skirt and puts her panties back into place. She can already feel his cum dripping out, thick liquid pools around her crotch.

Dean comes up again, cups her chin in his hand before he kisses her hard, stealing what little breath she has left. “Baby, when my come drips out of you in the next lecture or the one after that and the one after that, I want you to know. You. Are. Mine.” He emphasizes each word with softer but not less intense kisses on her lips.

She’s unable to form words so she just stares. Because my god, yes, she’s his.

“Now run, or you’ll be late.” He turns her around by her shoulders, spanks her ass, “Go!”

P.12

#teacher of the year #dean winchester #professor!dean #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fan fic #dean winchester fan fiction #nathalie writes

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leapyearkisses · 3 years ago

Text

Director’s Cut Commentary - Orbs Are Bad News Part 2

Second part of me blathering my thoughts all over this old story per the request of a very nice anon! I am still sleep-deprived, so yay~ Sorry, this commentary is probably way less interesting, since this part is just the sexy stuff, but if you have any particular questions, please send me another ask!

Happy to do any of my stories or just answer asks, whatever. I clearly enjoy reading myself talk XD

Comments in bold below the cut! This part is NSFW. Well, it’s all kinky but there’s also sex.

I forgot to mention this in Part 1, but the title of this story is because the homebrew campaign I ran for my friends involved magical evil crystal orbs. Hence they are bad news.

"Are you ever going to stop sneezing?" Remembrance asked. At the same time, Cordes said, "One thousand blessings, Llewellyn, one for each." The two of them were several yards ahead on the road, and only Cordes was looking back over his shoulder. Right now, the four party members were the only travelers on this particular stretch, although as they got closer to civilization, they'd started to pass the odd wanderer, farmers with wagons, even a merchant or two. The woods here were broken up periodically by stretches of arable land, clear-cut several decades ago and now waving with wheat, flax, or various vegetable leaves. The fields were golden in the late sun. Their shadows stretched behind them like taffy, rippling on the cobblestones. The day was vanishing quickly, and Gerrit could sense his companions' impatience to move on even as he stopped again himself, drawing out his handkerchief in a now very familiar motion.

Stick your people in a world. That’s my advice. Don’t have them just floating around in a no man’s land of generic scenery. (Also why I like period/historical snzarios and fantasy stuff, because reading about plain people in an apartment somewhere is boring to me.)

Llewellyn, for his part, could not answer them, face buried in his elbow as he ducked with another reluctant outburst. "Hahktschiu! Hahh- happtsch!"

"Bless," said Gerrit, and he stepped in front of the elf to shield him marginally from view. He laid one warm hand on the back of Llewellyn's neck and lifted the handkerchief with the other, capturing the next sneeze in the flannel folds. He settled his fingers firmly around Llewellyn's nose.

This was an arrangement that had been born out of necessity three days ago when the party had raided a bandit camp's plundered stores. Along with a good stash of gold and gems, they'd found a blue crystal orb, cursed perhaps, that had summarily become attached to both of Llewellyn's hands, rendering the sorcerer unable to do most anything... including take care of his cold on his own.

On the last episode of Orbs Are Bad News...

Llewellyn blew his nose into the handkerchief, wetting the cloth and dampening Gerrit's fingers through it. Originally quite opposed to such a display outside of the most private circumstances, the elf had been forced to put his pride aside and let Gerrit help him. His fever had abated the previous day, but the frequency of his sneezing had increased, as if his body was insistent now on ridding itself of whatever illness remained. It was a horrific prospect to Llewellyn to catch the resulting mess every time in the sleeve of his robes... so he suffered Gerrit to hold the handkerchief, even though they were walking along the road where any might see them.

Despite some initial teasing, Remembrance and Cordes had quickly grown accustomed to the practice and now cared not at all, except to complain. "We're going to have to camp again," grumbled Remembrance. "Five miles from Veigh and we're going to be stuck without a bath!"

Is five miles a realistic figure here? No fucking clue! I frequently engage in excessive and specific research for my stories, but I didn’t look up how long one might hike for in D&D. Oh well.

"Is there anything I could do for you?" Cordes asked, somewhat exasperated. The priest had made several herbal concoctions for Llewellyn over the past few days, but none had helped the elf's nose much. Cordes's specialty was unfortunately not the curing of disease but the mending of bones and flesh.

I will take any opportunity to make up an excuse as to why the snz cannot be contained. You’re welcome lol

"Ndo," Llewellyn growled, as fed up as the rest of them. "I'm beyond heh- help. Hngtschiu!"

"Bless you, arimelda," said Gerrit, trying to keep his voice even. He shifted the handkerchief so that Llewellyn could have a drier spot, trying to ignore a glimpse of slickness on the elf's face. "Remembrance, Cordes, why don't the two of you go on ahead? Find an inn, get a room, take a bath, whatever you want. It might be prudent also to send a message ahead to the Mages Guild about the orb. Will you do that? Llewellyn and I will join you when we arrive."

An elvish word appears! I researched this but not walking.

Cordes nodded. "Yes, I'll draft a letter as soon as- Hey!" Remembrance had grabbed his arm and was rushing ahead already.

"Let's go, man!" she said. "Everyone loves a damn priest; you're my ticket to a good room, so may your god help you if you dawdle." Her pointed tail swished as she practically jogged down the road. Cordes spluttered but could no more stand up to her as to a tornado, so off they went. It was a remarkably short time before the two of them were out of earshot, disappearing around a bend.

And again, removed so that the main characters can bang, lol.

Gerrit sighed but turned his attention back to Llewellyn, who was blowing his nose again. The handkerchief was running out of clean corners this late in the day, but the elf leaned back this time when he was finished. "All set?" Gerrit asked.

"Yes." Llewellyn rubbed his eyes on his upper arm, wiping away a spare tear from the effort. "...My apologies." He cleared his throat, refusing to meet Gerrit's gaze. "We may arrive after dark."

"You're ill," said Gerrit, trying to fold the flannel in a way as to avoid his pocket getting wet. "We'd move faster if you let me carry y-"

"No."

"Then I don't mind taking a more leisurely pace." Gerrit smiled. Even after everything, Llewellyn was stubborn. Honestly, since they weren't really in a rush, he didn't really care when they reached Veigh; they'd only detoured here to try and remove the orb. If Llewellyn, the most inconvenienced, didn't want to give up his pride and piggyback on... well, Gerrit found his noble hauteur inexplicably cute.

Me too, buddy. Don’t worry, you can carry your elf later.

He also wasn't in a particular hurry because it was awfully uncomfortable to make any sort of time with his arousal pressed flush to his thigh.

A reminder that sex is usually going to be involved in my stories. The snz is not enough by itself.

Llewellyn coughed into his elbow and then started walking again. Gerrit had pulled back his hood for him in the morning and braided his hair, and the crown of plaits caught the afternoon sunlight like an obsidian. Gerrit tried not to let his eyes linger on the sorcerer's pale nape. Or any other part of him. He and Llewellyn had been travelling together for close to three years, working for their current patron in the capital, and in that time Gerrit had felt himself growing closer to the elf. Wanting to be closer, anyway.

Llewellyn shot a glance at him and caught him looking. Gerrit flushed and turned his gaze back ahead to the road.

"You've been very accommodating during all of this," the elf said, tone carefully neutral.

Gerrit shrugged. "It doesn't bear mentioning. We're comrades."

"Comrades," Llewellyn repeated, an edge to his voice that Gerrit couldn't quite place. "Is that all it is?" He kicked a stick that had fallen to the cobblestones, sending it into the brush. Somewhere to the right, bumblebees droned over a meadow.

Llewellyn is kind of a asshole and not super great at communicating with any level of affection, although he does get better.

Gerrit swallowed. "Yes? You and I, we've helped each other before. I consider you to be a steadfast companion." Eyes on the road. Eyes on the dappled play of shadowed leaves and light on the ground. "Why do you ask?"

"So shy," Llewellyn exclaimed, a tad mockingly. "You've never been shy about taking me to bed, Gerrit." Despite his short height, the elf seemed to find it easy to look down his nose at the much taller fighter. "Has something changed?"

Height difference is also personally sacred to me.

"Changed?" Eyes on the road.

Llewellyn stopped walking. "You called me 'arimelda.' 'Dearest.' Did you think I wouldn't hear you over my sneezing?" He couldn't cross his arms with his hands trapped by the orb, but the set of his jaw was determined and his firm brows were arched. "I wasn't so distracted then as you seem to have thought."

Gerrit shoved his hands in his pockets. He stopped walking but didn't turn. "Apparently not," he muttered. "Look, we can set it aside. Doesn't have to mean anything – doesn't have to change anything. I know a highborn elf like you wouldn't consider an official relationship with a half-elven bastard, and I've known that from the start. For my whole life. So... I care about you. But it can just be as comrades, or whatever you want it to be." Llewellyn was quiet, and after a long minute, Gerrit did turn on his heel, desperate to know what kind of reaction he'd provoked.

The angst of the half-elven existence! Gerrit is a very typical half-elf in terms of D&D characterization, lol. Despite that, I do find these different-lifestyle pairings interesting, so they keep happening, cliche or not. There is a definite pathos in the elf/human relationship because of the different lifespans, of course - most famously depicted through Arwen and Aragorn, probably, although he’s not the exactly typical human. Anyway, it kind of varies how people like to determine elven and half-elven lifespans in D&D depending on the PHB and your DM’s weary forbearance lol, but Gerrit and Llewellyn will expect to live similar lengths because I’m a sap.

He saw Llewellyn standing with his eyes closed and head titled back, lips parted. The elf's nostrils flared as he gasped.

"Are you going to sneeze again??" Gerrit asked. He threw up his hands, then went for his handkerchief once more. They did have an arrangement.

He strode back over to Llewellyn's side and tucked the cloth around his nose again, thumb and forefinger just resting on the elf's nostrils. He started to rub Llewellyn's back. "You have the worst timing, you know? Here I am, spilling my heart to you and everything."

I laughed writing this part, too. You can’t always let things just be angst.

"Sh-hhuh-t up, I jh- just nih-" Llewellyn gasped again and gave in; he had no other choice. "Hahktscht!" He moaned and pressed closer into the handkerchief, thick congestion only aggravating the itch that remained inside. "Hkktschtt! Hngtscht! Hahh- ah-- ankcxttschiu!"

That sure is a bunch of letters crammed together!

"Easy... it's okay." Gerrit massaged Llewellyn’s nose, tried to soothe the irritation. He guided Llewellyn to the side of the road, and, in a moment of calm, settled him to sit on the grassy bank. He followed, kneeling at the elf's side. Llewellyn was tearing up again and his nose was twitching against the pads of Gerrit's fingers. Gerrit felt electric all over. He found himself wishing the handkerchief was gone so that he might touch the soft, heated skin of Llewellyn's septum, coax the elf to relax and loose his tension, sneeze into Gerrit's palm. The mess didn't bother him; none of it bothered him. He was supremely unbothered. His cock was almost painfully hard.

It took several more minutes punctuated with more urgent expulsions before Llewellyn seemed to trust himself to speak. His eyes were wet with unshed tears, eyelids tender and reddened. His nose was brightly ruddy, running to chapped. He had to take a shaky breath, collecting his thoughts. "Gerrit."

I’m a very visual writer. This kink is extremely visually-based for me. I wish I could draw as well as I want to so I could depict these scenes how I imagine them, but eh.

"Yes?" Gerrit lowered the handkerchief, gently pinching as he did to clear any lingering moisture. He wasn't ready to hear a rejection, nor did he feel particularly ready for a lecture or a tirade or even a logical exploration of why a relationship was a bad idea. He wanted, if possible, to keep walking to Veigh, side by side, listening to the bees and dragonflies and songbirds settling in for the evening, feeling the light breeze on his face, replete with the scents of summer.

"Kiss me."

Gerrit blinked, mental caravan bunching to a halt. "What?"

i am so funny omg

Llewellyn nudged him in the chest with the orb. "Kiss me. You're all worked up." He cleared his throat. "And judging by the state of you, you're not put off by my cold. So?" He tilted his head to the side, gently, closed his eyes. "I want you to kiss me."

An example of the B character not really forcing the admitting of the fetish but just kind of not caring. That is also okay, and I think it’s normal. People don’t just admit to all their kinks immediately upon entering a relationship.

Baffled, but feeling as though maybe all was not lost, Gerrit obliged, pressing their lips together. His own eyes slid closed and he cupped Llewellyn's cheek, deepening the kiss, touching their tongues together, trying to convey how he felt. Whatever had changed. The kiss lasted for too short a time; Llewellyn broke away to breathe, eyes half-lidded, but he didn't lean away.

I’ve never kissed anyone, but I consume media. I feel like I am pretty good at depicting things regardless of experience.

"I'm not going to dismiss you out of hand," he said. "You or your feelings. But I would ask for some time to think." He looked up through his lashes. "Are you feeling better?"

Another thing I like in romance, even in kink short stories like this, is a more realistic portrayal of the confession than just “It was obviously meant to be~”

Gerrit could feel his pulse in every extremity. "Not really," he managed, and he kissed Llewellyn again, this time sliding one hand under the elf's head and one at his hip and pressing him back to lay in the grass. He moaned in his throat as Llewellyn kissed back, and when they had to break for breath, he started to kiss at Llewellyn's forehead, jaw, throat, wherever he could touch skin. His hands roamed over the elf's body, smoothing over hip and thigh and belly until he could start to undo the buttons on Llewellyn's close-cut robes.

"Gerrit," gasped Llewellyn. He moved the orb between them, jamming it into Gerrit's sternum. "You are not going to sleep with me on the side of the damn road! Get ahold of yourself!"

He has standards!

Gerrit growled at the quick pain in his chest, then shook his head and leaned back. He flushed deeply and pulled his hands away. "Oh. Oh, fuck, sorry. I-"

"Pick me up." Llewellyn lifted his arms.

"What??" Gerrit's brain was having a hard time keeping up at the moment, all of his blood being elsewhere.

"There was a thicker copse of trees back about thirty feet, on the left." Llewellyn waved the orb at him. "Pick me up. We can lay down there."

His standards are NOT that high! But he does have them!

So. So Gerrit ducked his head into the circle of Llewellyn’s arms and picked him up, holding him securely and setting off down the road again, back the way they’d come. The elf was right; there, about twenty feet back from the bank, was a thick copse of pines, all grown together with wild geranium and maidenhead ferns. Gerrit pushed through, shoulder first. Despite its proximity to the thoroughfare, the inside of the stand was quiet and shielded completely from view. This would do nicely.

Told you you’d get to carry him soon.

He set Llewellyn back on his feet and made short work of undressing him, first freeing the sorcerer from his pouches and bags, then undoing the silver buttons on his robe from his collarbone to his crotch. The rich fabric fell open appealingly. Next, Gerrit freed the elf from his boots and leggings. A long white shirt, woven from the finest of elven angora, still covered him, but Gerrit pushed the fabric up over Llewellyn’s belly, leaning in to kiss the elf again and touching him intimately.

Llewellyn moaned and nudged Gerrit’s hip with the orb. “Now you,” he said. “I want to see your body.”

Gerrit complied, making quick time shedding his cloak, pack, leather armor, breeches, boots. Two daggers, two short swords, caltrops, a bow and quiver, a glaive, and a spiked whip followed. He pushed them to the side as Llewellyn rolled his eyes.

This is another funny trope lol, like when a hero or assassin or someone has to go through airport security and the metal detector keeps beeping because they’re carrying 18 knives on their person. Fighters are proficient in every weapon, so why not have one of everything?

"You can't possibly have a use for all of those," the elf said, and then Gerrit captured his mouth again.

He laid Llewellyn down on the soft carpet of pine needles, using his cloak to cover the ground and double as a makeshift pillow. The elf was beautiful in the shifting shade, skin flawless. He had the orb resting on his chest and it glowed intermittently in the inconstant sunlight. The gold chain netting that encapsulated both the orb and Llewellyn's fine-boned hands glimmered. "You know," said Gerrit, smoothing a hand down Llewellyn's bare thigh. "You'd look pretty good bound up in gold chain."

"This isn't enough for you?" He scoffed.

Gerrit laughed. "It would be fun to tease you. I love it when you fuss at me. So cute." He dodged Llewellyn's elbow and settled down on his stomach, hooked one of Llewellyn's legs over his shoulder, and nuzzled the base of the elf's cock. "Ready, arimelda?" His own cock was under him, pressed to his stomach in the confines of his shirt. He could feel his pulse in the head of it, quickening with the scent of his lover.

"Yes, you prick," sighed the elf, and he moaned when Gerrit started to kiss him and lave his skin. His fingers flexed on the orb, longing to wind into Gerrit's hair.

Licking is kind of thing, and I love writing about fellatio so. Yay~

Gerrit took Llewellyn into his mouth eagerly, fingers curled over the elf's thighs, fingertips pressing at the sensitive inner surface as he sucked and teased and swallowed. Like this, he could focus on Llewellyn's pleasure. The noises the usually stoic and prideful sorcerer was making were enough to make Gerrit moan, mouth full, and rock his hips. Nothing pleased Gerrit more than seeing Llewellyn undone, seeing the elf flushed and open and undone for him. And he shivered, all over, when he heard the elf's breath catch and his tone go wavery. He thought he could come from this, listening to Llewellyn sneeze while pleasuring him implacably with a heated, well-placed tongue.

This is also VERY IMPORTANT. Caretaking to the point of like, partner worship idk. It’s good!!

"Aa, aa, ahh- ih- Gerrit, I-" Llewellyn drew his knee up, curling, heel drawing along Gerrit's back. "I nih- need to snih- hh-"

Gerrit drew his head back, let Llewellyn's cock free for a moment. He didn't loosen his grip on the elf's legs, though, wound up and desirous. "Okay by me, melda, it's okay. Feel all right? Want me to stop?" He was breathless himself, had to force the words past the distraction of his arousal, but he would abide.

Consent is the sexiest thing.

"No, don't stop," Llewellyn groaned, then turned his head to the side. "Hpptscht! Hah- Haktschiu!"

"Bless, bless." Gerrit kissed Llewellyn's thigh tenderly, then nipped it, drew his tongue over the hurt, sucked a bruise to mark its place. He swallowed Llewellyn down again as the elf cried out in pleasure and then bent with another helpless burst. Gerrit wondered if he could make Llewellyn come simultaneously with a sneeze and what that might feel like. The fantasy set him alight. His abdomen was tight, his cock like a brand on his stomach. He redoubled his efforts.

Gerrit felt it first, when Llewellyn came, in the tightening of the elf's thighs and stomach, then tasted the salt of his release. His world narrowed down to taking it in, swallowing, milking with his mouth while Llewellyn cried out, going until the elf was pushing him away, keening, oversensitive. He didn't wait to lift Llewellyn then into his lap, cradling him with one arm and stroking himself with the other hand, desperate to come as well. Llewellyn pressed his face to the junction of Gerrit's neck and shoulder, tightly gripping the cloth of Gerrit's shirt as they rocked together. The elf's nose was gently wet and he was panting, sniffling. Gerrit came with a shout, holding him close, shaking with an overabundance of pleasure. He let go of his cock and embraced Llewellyn fully. He had enough presence of mind not to confess to anything, but he couldn't stop himself from murmuring how beautiful, how soft.

okay. o__o There’s only so much I can say about writing the porn lol. I write what I want to read.

Gradually the world came back. Birdsong, first, and the bees, the sounds of the trees swaying in the light breeze. The lingering heat of the day, dampened by the shade and the growing dusk. The musty smell of pine needles and the sharper hint of sap, the scents of sex, the pressure of Llewellyn astride his lap, the bite of uneven ground against his knees. Llewellyn was touching his cheek, trying to say something sweet, failing because of his cold again.

I tried to write this part so that it would not be immediately obvious to the reader, as it is not to the characters, that the orb is gone.

"Ah- hh- Ttschgktst!"

Wetness against his neck. Gerrit wound his fingers with Llewellyn's and kissed his jaw. "Bless you," he said. "I'll find you a healer in Veigh. We'll get you well again. Right after we free you from the orb." He laid his cheek against the back of Llewellyn's hand tenderly. Then he paused. "Wait." Straightening, he brought his hands between them. The right was laced with Llewellyn's left. "The orb is gone."

Llewellyn straightened also, looking down at his hands. His hands with no orb. He lifted them both, amazed. And then wiped his nose on his wrist, sighing in pleasure. Gerrit tried not to blush despite everything.

Me too, buddy.

"Where did it go?" he asked, looking past the elf's shoulder. "Why did it come off?"

"Who even cares at this point??" Llewellyn had let go of him and was stretching, running his palms over his body, touching his own arms and face and cock, finally able to move and feel again after three days of magical bondage. He wiggled his fingers and then clapped his palms together, raising a small flame with their parting. "I have my freedom back. I can cast spells again. I can-" He smiled brilliantly. "I can touch you, too." He dropped his hands suddenly to Gerrit's lap, nimbly taking Gerrit's cock between them.

Gerrit lost track of the orb immediately.

Me too, buddy.

---

It was dark indeed when the two of them made it to the inn in Veigh, but both were in high spirits. Gerrit had relinquished handkerchief duty back to Llewellyn with a great internal mourning, but he could always fantasize about this again in the future (he did, frequently), and he knew that Llewellyn, despite his best efforts, would catch more colds on the road (he did, more frequently than he would like).

I would love to play a fetish-friendly D&D campaign, but it would be way too embarrassing, probably. My current PC has allergies, but I have never mentioned them in-game and probably never will lol. God help me if my DM ever remembers that I wrote them into my character sheet.

Remembrance and Cordes had only been able to secure one room, it seemed, with two beds. Gerrit resigned himself, going up the stairs, to sleeping on the floor. But... it was apparent upon entering the small space that... well, their priest and thief had ended up taking up only one of the beds, together. Gerrit and Llewellyn traded glances.

"I don't think I want to ask," said Llewellyn, going for the free bed.

"Sounds like a plan to me," Gerrit replied, joining him.

The untold story, lol

In the morning, Cordes, with great dignity sprung from embarrassment (the cause of which he did not volunteer) informed them that a letter had not been sent to the Mages Guild yet. He was immensely relieved to find that one was no longer needed and quick to congratulate Llewellyn on his newly regained freedom. Remembrance just chuckled from the bed and took her time buckling her armor back on.

Already in Veigh, the party spent some time stocking up on medicines and liquefying some of the heavier treasures they'd liberated from the bandit camp. Gerrit sent a message on to their patron to expect them back in the capital in a couple of weeks, barring disaster. They purchased horses and set out, ready for the next adventure.

---

The orb lay still in the pine thicket, nestled like an egg among the ferns, waiting for the next hapless traveler.

Faust’s Orb of Rope Bondage. Make a Will saving throw [DC 15] upon touching the orb with any body part, wearing clothes or not. Upon a failure, the orb will find its way to adhere to the hand of the hapless adventurer. If both hands touch the orb, they will both be stuck. If two people fail the save, one of each of their hands will be stuck. The spell can be broken only if each attached party has an orgasm.

I GUESS

#lyk writes #snz #llewellyn mistwalker #gerrit truestride #gerwellyn #director's cut commentary exercise

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