#my heart was aching and all that jazz but it’s good rn

[cat-puke]

Spent yesterday’s night at the hospital so I drew a little doodle of nurse Leo bc I liked the idea

[nandysparadox]

strawberry ice cream and rescue missions

Pairing: romantic royality; mentioned brotherly moxiety and platonic logicality

Word count: 2311

cw: emotional hurt/comfort; light angst; insecurity; overworking; mentioned unsupportive parents

Summary:

Roman is worried he'll never make it onto stage after all. Patton is worried about his next test.

or

Two times Patton and Roman comforted each other

---

fic for day 2 of @royalityweek!! ill have to admit i may have strayed from the prompt a little bit, but im happy with how this turned out ❤️🩵😊 this is part of the same verse as my previous royality week fics, but can be read separately (ill make a masterpost soon!)

huge thanks to @ivaryn0 for beta-reading!

prompt: family/friendship

Hmm. Should he get more chocolate? Patton wondered, squinting at the lines of chocolate bars that filled the shelves in the sweets aisle. He couldn’t remember if there was still some in the fridge…

Well, he ate chocolate fast, might as well. He picked up a few kit-kats and dropped them in the basket when a ring sounded from his phone. He checked the screen, switching to the messaging app immediately when he saw it was Roman.

just got off work

do you wanna come over?

He blinked. Roman could be spontaneous with plans sometimes, but generally, Patton was the one to host the spur-of-the-moment movie nights between the two of them.

In any case, it's not like he was planning to do anything other than scroll on his phone after he got home. Hanging out with Roman would definitely be a plus.

sure sweetie!😊💖 im at the grocery store rn, do you want me to pick up something for u??

The typing bubble popped up, and it stayed there for about a minute. Patton tilted his head.

ice cream

…

please

Oh. Oh, something was wrong for sure.

A good ol’ ice cream tub was Roman’s go-to when he was feeling down, and that’d certainly explain why he asked to hang out out of nowhere. He couldn’t tell exactly what happened, nothing good for sure, but now he was on a mission.

Operation “cheer up boyfriend” initiated!

Luckily, the ice cream aisle was close to the checkout counter. Patton rummaged around the freezer for strawberry cheesecake, Roman’s favorite, and got three pints for good measure. Of course, making sure to get a bottle of chocolate syrup while in line. After that, it was just a matter of driving to Roman’s apartment.

He might’ve rushed up the stairs a bit too much and his knees definitely paid the price, but darn it he was worried!

He double-checked the apartment number and moved to open the door. Faint music came from behind it, Taylor Swift’s…All Too Well? Oh boy.

“I brought the ice cream, Ro!” Patton said as he entered. Immediately, his eyes flitted to Roman in the middle of the couch. Blankets swaddled him to the point that Patton could barely make out his face. But as he got closer, he saw the tear tracks that trailed down to his chin.

“Oh love,” Patton said, feeling his heart ache at the sight. “Hold on, let me grab you a spoon, ok?”

By the time he was back, Roman hadn’t moved an inch. Patton sat next to him, cracking open the ice cream and plopping the spoon into it.

Roman then proceeded to take the pint and eat it with a ferocity that was kind of impressive.

“…Thanks,” Roman muttered.

“Of course, Ro,” Patton smiled, putting a hand on Roman’s knee, in what he hoped to be a comforting way. “Do you wanna tell me what’s wrong?”

“I don’t know, it’s— it’s dumb,” Roman replied, wrapping his arms around his middle. “I’m being dramatic.”

“It’s not dumb, Ro, not if it’s upsetting you.”

Roman sighed. “The cast list for this season’s show came out.”

“Oh, sweetie…”

“Ensemble. Again!” Roman cried, doing mock jazz hands. “I know, I know, I should be grateful I’m in the show at all, and ensemble’s no easy feat of course, but I just thought…”

Roman hunched his shoulders up and let his hands fall into his lap.

“I thought this was going to be the time.”

“I’m so sorry you didn’t get the part you wanted, honey,” Patton said, leaning into Roman’s side. “I’m sure you did your best.”

“I’m starting to think my best just isn’t enough,” Roman let out a hollow laugh. “You know, every time, I tell myself it’s gonna happen, this is gonna be my big break… Maybe it’s just never gonna happen.”

Patton watched helplessly as Roman wound a hand into his hair, pulling. His face twisted in misery. Patton couldn’t bear to see it, the hope crumbling from Roman’s eyes.

“Maybe I’m just gonna be serving milkshakes and cheesecake in a 50s-themed diner for the rest of my life,” he said, bitter. “Great, my parents were right. I’ll never be anyone at all.”

“Don’t say that, Roman,” Patton said firmly. He surprised himself with the sternness in his voice, but he stood by it — he wouldn’t just let Roman be so cruel to himself. “They’re wrong. Of course you’re enough, honey, please don’t let others convince you you’re not, be it your parents or anyone else.”

Roman hummed and something in Patton’s chest twisted at the disbelief in his eyes.

“Ro, listen to me,” Patton pleaded, taking Roman’s hands and squeezing them. “You’re incredible. You’re passionate, and witty, and creative, and dazzling, and none of that hinges on you having the lead role in a show. It doesn’t matter if you’re a waiter, or a superstar, you don't need to measure up to anyone's idea of success.”

Patton smiled, letting go of Roman’s hands to cup his face and brush his thumb across the high of his cheekbone. “You're you. That's enough.” He paused, touching his forehead to Roman's. “You know I love you, right?”

Roman went silent, and with each second that passed Patton got more worried he might’ve said the wrong thing. But then, all of a sudden, he wrapped Patton in a tight hug.

“I love you too,” replied Roman, a quiet chuckle on his lips. Patton hugged him back, crossing his arms over Roman’s back.

When they finally pulled apart, Roman wiped at his eyes, smiling. “You always know what to say, don’t you?”

“Maybe not always,” Patton shrugged. “But I’m sure good at turning around gloomy days! How about I pick up more ice cream and we put on some Disney movies?”

Roman laughed in response, and Patton was so glad to hear it.

Roman sighed as he leaned his forehead against the door, raising his fist to knock for about the third time. Of course, getting into Patton’s apartment hadn’t been the hard part — his roommate was just as worried about him as Roman himself.

The real problem would be getting him to actually leave his desk and put a pause on studying.

“I’m taking a break soon, Logan, don’t worry!” Soon came Patton’s cheerful voice through the door. By the unprompted nature of the comment, he must’ve repeated this line many times before and Roman would guess he’d actually done as he said about… zero of them. “Do you need anything?”

Other options exhausted, Roman supposed he’d just have to go for it.

“Only for you to emerge from your fortress of darkness, my dear,” he said, opening the door.

Fortress of darkness indeed. The laptop screen, about the only source of light in the room, cast a blue tint on the books and papers thrown around the desk. Mugs and cups piled around a forgotten corner of the nightstand. At least the window was open, so Patton must’ve gotten some sunlight in the afternoon.

“…Roman?” Patton squinted at him and tilted his head, swiveling his chair around to face him. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m on a mission, darling,” Roman declared, bowing. Hopefully, his dramatics would help win Patton over. “ Recruited by your dearest brother himself… and your roomie was kind enough to let me in.”

“Logan,” Patton grumbled, then shot Roman a look of disbelief, eyebrows raised. “Hold on, Virgil sent you?”

Roman strode over to him, tilting Patton’s chin up and gently brushing his raven hair out of his glasses. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, and he looked as if he might fall over with a single touch. Roman bit his lip, when had Patton last slept? That wasn’t like him — he barely stayed up late, even on weekends.

“Darling, you haven’t texted your brother in three days. And you know how he gets when he’s worried.” Roman fake shivered, pulling a little giggle out of the other. “When I asked how you were doing this morning, you just sent me a thumbs-up emoji. And Logan says you haven’t come out of here either.”

“I— just,” Patton looked down. “I really need to study, okay? I have a test in a week, and I still have to review the three last units, and memorize all these names—”

“And don’t you think you’ll do better if you give your brain a chance to rest?” Roman raised an eyebrow. “C’mon, you’re taking a nap.”

“What? I can’t, Roman I’m so behind—” Patton protested as Roman pulled him from the chair and herded him towards the bed.

“So you don’t want to cuddle your poor suffering boyfriend?” Roman gave him an exaggerated pout, knowing the other wouldn’t be able to resist it. “Jail for Patton, jail for Patton for one thousand years!”

“Don’t be mean,” Patton whined. He glanced at their entwined hands, sighed, and climbed onto the bed grumbling.

They cuddled for about a minute, and Roman would be lying to say he hadn’t thoroughly enjoyed the fact that his boyfriend wore his favorite sweater. You’d think it was a bit plain, just a simple gray affair, but only if you hadn’t touched it — by Jove, it was like angels themselves knit the thing. Though soon enough, Patton disentangled himself from Roman’s arms, much to his displeasure, and sent a conflicted glance to his desk. Roman groaned.

“Ro, I need to study, I’m sorry.”

“Patton, be serious with me,” Roman said, crossing his arms. “You really think you are fit to study right now? You look like you’ll drop if the wind blows too hard.”

“But—”

“C’mon, darling,” He cupped Patton’s cheek, looking directly into his red-rimmed eyes. “You know better than to overwork yourself. I thought we’d skipped the workaholic college student phase when you were an undergrad.”

“That’s the thing, Ro,” Patton huffed, sounding terribly small. He dug his nails into the comforter, leaning away from Roman's hand. “I'm not an undergrad anymore. I can't coast by. If I want to be a vet, I can't just-”

He clicked his mouth shut, pulling his knees up to his chest.

“Hey,” Roman reached out again, but he only curled up further. He paused. Pinpricks of tears formed in the corner of Patton’s eyes and he looked so, so tired. It just about killed Roman to see him so upset. “C’mon, what’s going on?”

“I failed the last test,” Patton muttered, hiding his face in the crook of his arms. “If I don’t do well on this one, there won’t be extra credit that’ll save my grade. I can’t fail this class I can’t—”

“Oh, darling,” Roman crooned, as he gently wrapped the other into a hug. “It’s okay.”

Patton sniffled into Roman's shoulder.

“You’ve never “coasted by”. Don’t punish yourself for struggling,” Roman said, tracing circles onto his back. “Some classes can be tough, that’s okay. No shame in needing to put more effort into learning a subject, you just need to remember you can work hard and still take care of yourself.”

“…What if I’m just not cut out for this?” Patton whispered.

“What? Darling, look at me,” Roman pulled away, then took Patton’s hands with his own. “You’re one of the smartest, most compassionate people I know. I have no doubt in my mind that you’ll be a great veterinarian.” He smiled. “Nay, the greatest!”

Patton huffed a laugh and leaned into Roman’s shoulder.

Roman pressed a small kiss into his hair. “You’ll get through this, I know it. There can’t be a victory without some challenge after all,” he said, “But you better not overwork yourself again, mister, or I swear I’ll bully you into some self-care.”

“I’m sure you will.”

Sneaking a hand around his back, Roman pulled Patton down abruptly and flopped him onto the bed, drawing a fit of giggles from him.

“Don’t test me,” he smirked.

Patton let out an airy laugh. “Alright, alright.”

They fell into silence as Roman picked up a pillow from the foot of the bed and lay down. Patton had taken to fidgeting with the sleeves of his blue jumper, quiet as he unraveled a bit of loose thread.

“Vet school is really something,” he finally said.

“Not like you expected?”

“I don't know,” Patton admitted. “I just feel… out of place? Everyone here seems so well-adjusted and driven, but I still feel like I’m bumbling.”

“Is there such a thing as well-adjusted university students?” Roman snorted. “This is a new thing for you, dear, only natural you’ll need some time to get used to it.”

“As long as it doesn’t take too long,” sighed Patton.

“You’re doing great, Pat, trust me,” Roman reached over to ruffle his hair, grinning when Patton pouted adorably and batted his hand away.

“You’re too cute, I’m sorry,” Roman said, stifling a chuckle. Patton crossed his arms. “You know I love you, right?”

Instantly, Patton’s face softened — a pretty blush tinted his cheeks and he smiled bashfully. “I love you too, honey.”

“Man, if I knew I could persuade by flirting I'd have done it much earlier.” Roman teased, raising his hands when he saw the look he got in response. “Okay, okay, I give. So, how about that nap?”

Patton opened his mouth to respond but cut himself with a wide yawn before he could.

“Yeah, I think that’s answer enough.”

Wrapping his arms around Patton's waist, Roman pulled the covers over them and, after whispering goodnight, planted a kiss on his hair. For someone who’d claimed he could go right back to studying with no problem, Patton fell asleep rather quickly — five minutes barely passed and he was already snoring softly. Roman shook his head in amusement. Poor thing sure was exhausted. He snaked his hand around to grab his phone and snapped a photo to send to Virgil.

Mission accomplished.

---

A/N: this takes place about 1-2 years after they met in milkshakes and checkered diners - Patton is in his 1st year of the Veterinary Medicine program, while Roman has been out of college for a year-ish and working on that particular community theater since his senior year of collegeyes he's freaking out about never making it one year into his career 😆 he's a bit of a drama queen but we love him

[angeli-marco-writes]

Charlie Weasley - Secret

A/N - This is my first imagine thing uploaded on Tumblr, and I’m uploading the smutty version of this story on this platform before posting the more PG version to my wattpad collection. Check it out: angeli-marco. Also this somehow became a Gryffindor reader kinda thing, it’s just what works but imagine you’re not in Gryffindor if you fancy.

Warnings - smut, rough sex, choking, kinky, all that jazz. Starting this blog off with a bang, literally. 6k words of p*rn with plot.

Summary - you have a secret regarding the dragon taming Weasley. The only issue is that he sees you as the child you were a few years ago. When you become legal, he seems to seek you out wherever you are. Maybe he has a secret, too.

YOU HAD A SECRET, a secret that no one beside yourself and your best friend knew, not that you’d readily admit to anyone that for your first three years at Hogwarts, you’d had a crush on none other than Charlie Weasley. Now, beginning your seventh year, having not seen him in three years, you’re surprised to find that your crush still lingers.

You’ve kept the notes that he wrote you, since the pair of you were actually quite close, Charlie tucking you under his wing once he found out your love of magical creatures. He nurtured your passion for the outdoors from the start of your second year. He sent notes, would help you access the forest, and he’d show you drawings of all these magical creatures that he wanted tattooed once he was older. He was the best.

All of these thoughts catch up to you while you’re lying in your tent, eyes closed and dreams clouding your vision, willing you to sleep. Until you hear yells.

Screams come from outside, howls and wails, yells for help and sacrifice. Not the kind of happy bellows that you’d expect after the World Cup Quidditch match. And then all of a sudden, moonlight beams in through the canvas of your one-man luxury tent and illuminates shadows you haven’t seen before, making you dwell in eeriness. 

A head pops into your tent, followed by a voice, one that’s so familiar it makes your stomach ache and the hairs on your arm stand on edge. 

“Whoever’s in here, you need to go! Get to safety, now!”

Charlie. As clear as day.

“I’m coming, what’s happening?” You call back, voice shaky while you try to stand up, legs nearly bowing and giving way beneath you. 

“Death Eaters. Wait, Y/N?” 

He recognises you from your voice. Your body feels electrified already. Not the right time, you scold yourself, but you can’t help feeling a little pride that he still remembers you. 

“It’s me, Charlie, I’ll come to fight with you.”

You hear him stutter from outside, but within seconds, he’s raced across the expanse of your tent and has his arm wrapped around your waist.

“You’re too young,” he insists, but you just pull your wand out and look at him.

His blue eyes twinkle, even in a moment like this, and you feel as though he’s boring into your soul, which in all fairness you wouldn’t say no to.

You sigh, “I’m of age and I’m here alone, don’t think I’m not coming, Dragon Boy.”

He smirks at the nickname you gave him so many years ago, but smiles and brings you outside, still gripping onto you in any way he can.

You run to the centre of the outbreak. Men in masks levitating helpless muggles , the Ministry and other helpers already failing at bringing them down. It’s worse than you could’ve imagined. Charlie pulls you behind him, gripping your wrist with a determination, a protectiveness, one that he still had back in the day. Though it’s not the time, you feel your stomach flutter, even letting out a giggle at his gesture mere seconds before running out from behind him.

You proceed to run into the centre of the action, Charlie not far behind, calling out your name in the most desperate way you’ve heard him speak. 

What he doesn’t realise is how much you’ve grown over the past few years. You’ve become trained in combat, mostly thanks to Professor Lupin, and you’re really bloody good at it. You have virtually every possible spell in your arsenal, ones that many ministry members mayn’t even know, all thanks to Lupin again who gave you one on one lessons and prepared you for anything. Not to mention that you play Quidditch for your house team, something that you always admired Charlie for, but now you’re extremely agile, ready for almost anything, and prepared to fight. 

What you see is pure injustice, people being persecuted for their blood, all for a sick game. You’re a little scared, that’s a given, but you know it isn’t right, so aim a stunning spell straight at the chest of the tallest man in a mask. Non verbally, so he doesn’t see you coming. He falls to up the ground, wand discarded, a wand which you happily take and slot into your pocket. Your thought process is that you’ll take the men down one by one, maybe with a little help since you are only a 17 year old girl, while the weak ass ministry workers try what’s best for their image. 

And really, that’s the way it goes. A good while later, when you’ve participated in a couple of duels, ended up flat on your arse in front of everyone, with a cut on your cheek and anger roaring in your blood, only then do you get a rest.

Charlie and his brother helped duel the masked men, taking them down, while the Ministry brought the muggles down to their Rightful Place and proceeded to wipe their memories. Horrible ordeal, all done incorrectly for press, especially since every single man got away, at least that’s what you counted. You tuck your wand away in your pyjamas. Certainly not the right clothes you wanted to be wearing when meeting Charlie again, but so be it. 

You sit on the floor, looking up at the stars and hollow moon, really hungry and a little shaken up. You have a cold compress on your face, well, a tissue that you used an aguamenti charm to dampen and proceeded to lay it over your pounding forehead, throbbing eyes and bruising cut. 

“Let me help you with that,” Charlie says, coming to sit beside you. You didn’t hear him approaching, so his sudden presence takes you by surprise. Surprise that evaporates the second he lays his hand on your thigh. 

“Fancy seeing you here,” you quip, nudging his shoulder, “didn’t think you’d recognise me.”

It’s true, you really didn’t. You would’ve thought that you’d have to prove your identity with the notes he wrote you and by inside jokes you ice had, but he recognised you solely by your voice, very rare. You’ve changed a lot since your third year, growing taller, filling out, gaining a very desirable figure and you changed your style completely, including a complete makeover of your hair, and a nose piercing. 

“How could I not? You still sound the same as ever.”

Once again, true. No matter what other hormonal and physical changes you’ve endured, not one of them included losing the babyish feature that your voice held, constantly making you sound like you’re dosed up on a little helium.

“And, you’re still as cute, but very... um...”

Wow. You have Charlie speechless, what a rarity. He has two modes, silent, or never shutting up, and the latter usually only comes when he’s with friends.

“Grown up?” You offer, turning to face him with a small smirk painted on your lips.

He chuckles, a low rumbling sound from the bottom of his throat while his eyes tiresomely yank themselves away from your best features, “yeah, you could say that.”

He brings an arm around your waist, shuffling along the ground to sit beside you, and then a warm hand encloses over your own, the one holding the bloody cloth to your face. Slowly, he takes the cloth away and replaces its positioning with rough, calloused fingers, tracing the outline of your cut. 

“Tergeo,” Charlie murmurs, and he watches all the blood and debris disappear from your face, leaving a clean cut.

You stare into his eyes, feeling the same thing of fireflies in your bloodstream as you did when he looked into your eyes when you were all but a child. It’s illuminating, he makes you feel seen, he makes you feel special. He edges forwards, and forwards, until your breath mingles together...

“Try this!” He exclaims with a fake enthusiasm, jolting his head away from your own and clearing his throat with as much subtlety as a Hebridean black.

Charlie withdraws a small, battered tin from his pocket, placing it shakily into your open palm.

“I use it all the time on the sanctuary,” he opens the tin, places one finger inside, and swipes a cooling, vanilla scented balm over your cut.

You wince, involuntary flinching away from him, but your hand grips his string thigh. He contracts and calms beneath your touch as he rubs the balm over your cut, and you can almost feel it recovering.

“As good as new,”

Charlie brushes his lips against your forehead, the way he used to do,  it ignites something special in you both this time.

He hesitates. “You’re still at school, aren’t you?” You nod, tucking your hair behind both ears, smiling up at him shyly. “I’ll see you sooner than you expect, I promise, but I have to be with my family now.”

Bemusement flashes over your face, but instead of questioning it and ruining the mystery, you just settle for a smile. Slotting your palm in his, Charlie steadies you to your feet and swiftly pulls you flush against him. 

“You look so beautiful, Y/N, so grown up. I miss you.”

His voice cracks, neediness clear in his deep, dulcet tones. He wraps his arms around your almost bare shoulders, allowing yours to fall around his waist. He’s grown impossibly taller, gained even more muscle, and his heart has most definitely swelled in his absence. 

“I miss you too,” you murmur against his chest, the words getting lost within his chest, the warmth of his skin on your face through a tear in his shirt. You could quite happily stay in his arms all day, all night and never get tired. 

Soon, though, he withdraws and holds you at arms length, observing every blemish on your face and the way your eyelashes curl and the way your lips quirk into a smile at the mere thought of him. You want him to wander further, for his eyes to follow down your body, the way your bust is accentuated in your scrappy pyjama top, and the way your 3/4 leg pyjama bottoms fall low on your hip and stay snug around you with no effort at all; but he stays with his eyes fixed on yours.

“Stay safe.”

And with a kiss, the brush of his stubble on your cheek, he’s gone and you’re left to wonder if him being beside you tonight was just a dream.

-x-

It’s been months since you saw Charlie last, despite his promise that he’d see you sooner than anticipated. You, however, had expected to see him there as a new teacher on September 1st, but your wish didn’t come true. 

Your first two months at school weren’t too bad: a decent DADA teacher (nothing on Lupin though), no escaped prisoners, no escaped trolls or petrified students, and you could safely say that it was the most normal year you’d had so far at Hogwarts, at least since Harry Potter started. 

That basic joy and normality evaporated with the announcement of the tournament, which you most unequivocally would not enter under any circumstances, so you stayed out of the way ever since. You couldn’t be arsed with the other schools, nor all the gossip about the tasks, and you instead continued to busy yourself with your nightly creature endeavours. You’d walk to all your favourite spots where unicorns, nifflers, bowtruckles and more stayed, but not once did you bump into Charlie.

You began to feel defeated, lost, like you wouldn’t see him again and he’d just been lying, or maybe it was all a dream. But tonight, your walk is different. 

The sun set early, late November creeping in and enveloping you in a warm blanket of darkness, the moon comforting you. It’s not even curfew yet, nowhere near, but maybe you’ll stay out here until sunrise, nap beneath the stars, all curled up with an aethonan winged horse, but deep within the forest you hear clattering. There’s yells, roars, sudden blasts of light, and your curiosity gets the best of you.

You crawl all through the trees and bushes, finding a comfortable path, only to come across four huge dragons in their pens, a collection of wizards, all dressed the same as Charlie, dotted around them. And then, only then, do you see his twinkling blue eyes, a breath of fire from one of the dragons reflecting in them.

“Charlie!” You cry out, not caring about any form of common courtesy on your endeavour through the final brambles until you fall straight into his arms. 

“I told you I’d see you soon.” He smirks, but you can just tell that he’s itching to grin like a Cheshire Cat.

You climb him like a vine, legs wrapped around his waist and arms around his neck. You tug at his man-bun and watch as his Adam’s apple bobs up and down. His face falters, cheeks a flaming red, and once again he clears his throat. He turns his head away awkwardly, still keeping his grip on you, so he doesn’t anticipate when you cup his jaw and angle his gaze towards you once more. 

“Do you want to kiss me, Charlie?” You ask, voice low and sultry, hips rearranging themselves atop him. 

He stutters, tongue tied, pupils blown wide with lust but the colour drains from his face. You repeat yourself, eyes boring into his with a ferocity you haven’t felt since that night in August. His freckled eyelids fall shut for a couple of seconds, crinkling in the corners, and then they shoot open, his nose nudging yours, lips grazing yours...

“Charlie!”

He sighs, putting you down onto the ground, and he turns his back momentarily which allows you to examine the way the moonlight ripples over his leather jacket. 

“What, mate?” He calls, the most exasperated time you’ve ever heard him use, and you can see his heavenly back muscles tensing through his clothes.

“A little hand over here?” A European accent calls him over. “When shithead gets back from his food run, then you can run off with your girlfriend, but for now we need help.”

Charlie rolls his eyes and slumps his chest forwards. Clearly he’s not happy, and you can’t blame him. It’s a lovely evening that could be silent shagging you, but he has to spend it being burnt by dragons.

“You’ve had an impact on their language then, they’ll be yelling ‘BOLLOCKS’ soon if you’re not careful.” Charlie chuckles at your quip and brings you into his side. 

“You still like animals, right? Fancy giving us a hand?”

You know Charlie well enough to know that he’s actually serious, so he sheds his jacket to wrap around your shoulders, and brings you toward the centre of the fire pit with him. You get strange looks from all the other dragon tamers and you can’t blame them. A girl like yourself, you don’t much look like a dragon tamer, but anything for Charlie.

The task is easier than you anticipated anyway, giving you ample opportunity to watch Charlie’s body, the way he moves, the way he smiles, and you even catch a glimpse of a few tattoos. You feel heat flowing to your core, desperate for him to just snog you already.

All you really have to do is cling to the rough skin of Charlie’s hand and dodge fire, occasionally shooting stunning spells at the Horntail or pulling on some chains to keep the creatures tethered. The beasts truly are magnificent, and it’d be a lot easier to take notes on them and examine them a little more closely if it weren’t for Charlie’s cute bum looking far too tight in his jeans, making your fingers ache to touch him. 

You shrug his jacket off when curfew approaches, only just keeping time by slanting his wrist towards yours every so often, and so you drape it back over his shoulders, unwittingly giving him a kind of bear hug. He brings you around to his front, your legs settling comfortably on his hips, and he smirks at you. Bloody hell, just his smirk does things to you. 

His breath mingles with yours, fogging your vision from the way it steams in the cold, night air. The moon shines down and illuminates constellations with each and every one of Charlie’s freckles. You slip a hand to his cheek, resting it on his stubble for just a moment while you stare longingly into his eyes. There’s no need to rush such a beautiful moment, but then he dips his head a little in order to catch your lips in a slow, savoured kiss, allowing every feeling the two of you harbour each other to be portrayed through the slow, deft dance if his lips on yours, passion exchanged when his tongue slips into your mouth, longing and urgency once he begins to fervently nibble at your lip...

“Fuck, Charlie...” you moan into his mouth, his hips involuntarily rutting against your core. You can feel just how much he wants this. 

His eyes are shut, holding you against him with one hand slipped under your bum and the other exploring your back beneath your top. You kiss him again, needier this time, breathier, and you just pray that everything you feel can be portrayed in your mix of reverent kisses and sultry movements, your hips grinding down on him. 

You pull away, gasping for air, rubbing your thumb over the curve of his cheek. You didn’t even notice your other hand moving to fist at his shirt for support, too lost in the moment. Your eyes flutter open and you search his for some kind of a tell tale sign that he just snogged you senseless, and you can see it in how lust-blown his pupils are. The earth cracks beneath the two of you while you’re still wrapped in the security of your kiss, but eventually you slip from his waist and land steadily on the floor, minuscule in comparison to his stature.

“I’ll wedge the portrait open and I’ll see you later. Don’t be too late. I’m sure you know how to sneak into the girls dorms by now.” You whisper to him, your voice carried away with the roars of the dragons and the nightly breeze.

And with a wink, you’re gone, with Charlie left dumbfounded, feet behind as you walk away into the depths of the forest, only to emerge the other side more flustered than ever before.

-x-

As soon as you reach your dormitory, you’re glad to see that all your roommates have disappeared, probably to their significant others' beds, or late night training help for Diggory just to watch him work out. You, however, have no inclination for anything or anyone other than Charlie. 

You tidy your bed as much as you can manage, tucking clothes away wherever you can in as small a time frame as you have, leaving ample time to let your nerves subside and your tension to dissipate before getting ready for Charlie’s arrival, you just hope to Merlin that he’ll turn up. The way he kissed you gave you he, the way he savoured you in every sense, kind yet needy, soft yet burning. Just the thought makes you rise in goosebumps, let alone imagining what he’ll do to you tonight. 

Finally, after what feels like a lifetime has passed, you’re lying in your four-poster with the covers wrapped around your body, the silk slip you put on leaving nothing to the imagination with the way it brushes your hips and clings to the swells of your breasts, moonlight shimmering on the fabric with any movement, the material almost not even daring to skim your skin from how in control you are of your body in that rare moment of power over yourself, and then you hear a knock, all of your composure flying out the window. 

“Hey beautiful, it’s me.”

His voice sounds like molten honey with a slight rasp and you’ve never heard anything more perfect, so with as much normality as you can, you open the door to him.

“Fucking hell...”

The words tumble from his mouth so freely upon the sight of you, hair swept off your face with a scrunchie and nothing but your well chosen slip gracing your body, Charlie looks as though he may combust. 

You step aside while Charlie awkwardly walks over the threshold into your dorm, no doubt one that he spent many nights in when he was a seventh year, but as soon as the chestnut door swings shut, he’s got you pressed against it with his chapped lips hovering over your own, the rough material of his jeans tantalising on your bare thighs. 

“Did you think it was funny for you to kiss me like that? Climb all over me? Touching me relentlessly? I couldn’t concentrate, your ass in those leggings and you wearing my jacket, I’ve never seen anything so sexy.” He croons in your ear, causing you to involuntarily mewl and buck your hips against his. You were already at his mercy, clinging to his jacket and clawing at the back of his neck while he holds you up, the wood chilling on your tingling spine. 

“When I left, you know, I thought I’d never see you as more than a friend, but now? The World Cup? You’ve gotten so mature, and your body, sweet Merlin. You’re all I want.”

You release a strangled moan, not wanting to let him know just how much his words are riling you up, but you’re sure he can already tell by the quirk of his lips, upturning into a smirk, a special glint in his eye that he was notorious for in his last year. 

“Are we gonna do this? I’ve fancied you since I was twelve, Charlie, please.”

He chuckles at your desperation, but sheds his leather jacket nonetheless and steadies you on your feet once more. Within seconds, you’re pouncing on him and beginning to strip his shirt, pulling it out from his jeans and up over his head. He seems equally as eager as you with the way his hands take a bruising grip onto your hips, scared of stripping you of your only covering just yet. 

You run your hands all over his tanned, muscular torso, covered in burns and tattoos and a fine dusting of dark ginger hair. There’s a Romanian Longhorn on his right peck, a Norwegian ridgeback on his left bicep (slightly distorted from a bad burn), an animated Zouwo on his hip and a crup pup on his perfectly angled shoulder blade. Charlie’s gonna be the death of you, you can just sense it by the heat radiating off his body. 

Your eyes bulge as the pad of your finger trails the swells and dips of his abs, and the way his muscles ripple is divine, you may just puddle at his feet.

“I swear, Charlie...” you murmur, your fingers deftly working on his jeans, shoving them down his hips before winding your arms around his neck.

He lets out a broken groan when you tug his hair, weaving your fingers into his unruly red locks. He holds your waist and slowly grips the flimsy fabric in his big hands, allowing your back to arch against him from how electrifying his touch is on your upper thighs and now bare hips...

He kisses your collarbone, sucks marks on your neck, fans his hot breath over the shell of your ear, peppers feather light kisses to your jawline; all of them make you whimper, shivering and trembling like a leaf against his body from his other ministrations as well as the work of his lips. Until finally, his mouth slants over yours and his arms curl around your thighs, wrapping them around his bared torso, every inch of him carved by a Greek god. He slips his tongue into your mouth, savouring the moan that slides from your lips, swallowing it and keeping you for his own. He walks backwards until his knees hit the side of your bed, allowing you to clamber onto his body and latch your teeth onto his earlobe, biting a mark just below.

“Fuck baby...” he whispers. He grips your hips and ass to control your movements on top of him, feeling his boxers just tighten even more. “Your ass is perfect...”

He hikes your nightgown up even more, bunching it above your waist, while he massages the globes of your ass, kneading them between his rough fingers and pulling your ass cheeks apart for him. Just by those simple ministrations, you know that you’re in for a rough night.

“Fuck me, dragon boy,” you plead, eyes trained on his as his entire being is overcome with a desire to devour you, you can tell by the way his nose scrunches and his lips upturn into the most devilish smirk you’ve ever seen on anyone.

“That’s Daddy or Sir to you tonight, baby.”

The gasp that escapes your mouth is the most pornographic sound you’ve made in your life, not that you’ve had much experience to. His palm rubbing your pussy erases all inhibitions, and the thought that you should probably warn him you’re a virgin. Not completely, you’ve done stuff with guys before, but you’ve never gone further than third base, so your dildo is your only relief. That should be enough, right?

“You’re so wet for me, my sweet baby. I bet you taste amazing.” Already you’re mewling, clawing at his back, a whimpering mess and he isn’t even inside you yet.

Within a second you find yourself beneath him, hungry eyes looking at you as though you’re his prey, one hand planted firmly on your pillow beside your head and the other with two fingers knuckle deep inside you. You cry out in pleasure, toes curling, but it all just gets so much better when he begins to thrust his hand at an inhumane speed, fingers curling up inside you and pressing that perfect spot perfectly each time. Part of you expected him to start slow: one finger, shallow and slow thrusts; but he’s just going for it, and the ecstasy is incomparable to anything you’ve felt before.

“Are you already that weak for me?” He purrs.

Yes, yes you are. His movements, the flick of his wrist and the jolt of his fingers deep within whenever you clench around him. You can’t fathom a response, especially not when the heel of his hand continually hits your clit and his lips wrap themselves around your nipple.

“Fuck, Sir, I’m so close...” you whisper in his ear, yanking on his hair with one hand, eliciting a groan followed by a swift slap to your ass, his body now being held up by only his knees . 

The way your fingers thread and tangle in his red locks and pull a little too harshly makes him insert a third finger. He twists his fingers inside you, hitting more places than before, and he withdraws his hand. You whine a little at the loss of contact, and certainly don’t anticipate their plough back inside, sharp and vicious, you’re unprepared for the sudden rush of contact to your clit, and even less prepared for the way Charlies tongue licks a circle around your other nipple, so you come. Stars blur before your eyes, a strangled guttural cry leaving your throat as Charlie rides it out for you. You already feel spent, body lax after scratching marks into Charlie's back while you clenched and came totally undone around his hand.

When you look up, Charlie’s still hovering above you, glistening hand between the two of you. As your eyelashes flutter and you focus on him, he knows he has your attention, so brings his hand up to his mouth and curls his tongue around his fingers, all covered with your cum. He moans as he tastes you, the most erotic sound that’s ever graced your ears, and it may just be the most sensual thing you’ve seen in your life. A slight fire lights itself in your belly while watching him, immediately ready for round two, so you let both your eyes and your hands dance down his perfectly toned body to his boxers. Your fingers feebly wrap around his member through his shorts, grasping tightly to cause jolts of both pleasure and pain shooting up Charlie’s spine. He hisses through his teeth and immediately climbs off the bed, only to retrieve a shiny silver packet from his pocket.

“Are you gonna be a good girl, sweet baby, or am I gonna have to teach you a lesson?” He coos.

You never thought that you’d be into any of this stuff, the ‘Sir’ and ‘Good girl’ and the spanking, but Merlin’s beard it’s turning you on.

“I’ll be good for you, but only tonight Charlie.”

He seems dissatisfied by your answer. You can tell by the way he strikes the side of your ass with his palm and proceeds to look completely calm about it. You’re quite literally salivating though, his dominance increasing your pleasure tenfold.

“Fuck,” you whisper, backtracking in your mind, “I’ll do what you want, just fuck me.”

Your hands find the hem of his boxers, pulling them off in one fell swoop and throwing them to the other side of the room. He’s huge, long and a decent girth, so big that you’re slightly fearful. You made a fist around his dick and moved your hand up and down a couple of times, looking up at Charlie with innocent doe eyes that you can tell are driving you crazy by the way his cock twitches in your hand. You stroke him a little faster, thumb flicking over his tip and allowing the drop of pre-cum to lubricate a couple more jerks before you settle back down, watching Charlie as he intently focuses on rolling the condom down his throbbing length. Fuck, it’s beautiful.

“On your hands and knees.” He orders you in a throaty voice. You look at him with eyes full of scepticism but only for a moment before complying, sticking your ass in the air at the foot of your bed, just waiting for him to do something.

He brings his hand down on your ass again, the skin prickling a little, causing you to moan again, seemingly what he wants, because slowly he begins pushing into you. He starts slowly, just his tip entering you after he’s run his cock through your folds and collected your essence. He stretches as the rest of his length pushes in, cautiously placing a hand on the small of your back to steady himself. You clutch the sheets beneath you, pleasure overwhelming the pain.

“Is that ok? I’m not hurting you, am I?” Charlie sounds worried, hands rubbing around your waist and stomach soothingly.

“No, no it’s brilliant, but I don’t mind if you wanna hurt me…”

You can hear his breath hitch in his throat. “W-what do you mean? I don’t want to hurt you properly… what are you thinking of?”

Your pause is atmospheric, leaning into a yoga resembling pose with arms laying flat and your back arched to perfection, boobs pushed into your duvet. You hum, “Choking, maybe a little more spanking, just general rough sex. Mark me as yours.”

Charlie's knees almost buckle beneath him, removing a hand from caressing your body to steady himself on the poster of your bed. “You sure about this? I still wanna actually make love to you, I’m not all dominant…” You let out a soft chuckle and turn behind you, cocking a smile at him. A subtle nod paired with the part of your lips gives him all the answer he needs to grip your hips and pull out from you, only to slam back in with an unrivalled force.

Your ass jiggles with the power of his thrusts, Charlie's dick pumping in and out of you making you reach new heights of pleasure. His hand wraps around your hair, forming a ponytail and pulling you flush against him, your lightly sweaty back against his heaving chest, his hair tickling your spine. One of his hands grips your hip harshly, intermittent grunts of your name escaping his lips, and the other hand moves up your body, massaging your breast and plucking at your nipple.

“Can I choke you?” His voice comes out raspy, followed by a moan as you clench around his twitching cock, merely from his words.

“God, please.” You beg him, unsure if you’ve ever been so needy in your life.

His long fingers slowly wrap themselves around your neck, pressing his palm down and squeezing lightly. Hard enough so that your breath is slightly laboured and your senses are heightened. You can hear him counting under his breath, still thrusting in and out of you ferociously, and when he hears your breathing becoming an issue, he releases his grip. With a few seconds allowance, you gulp down as much air as you can, swirling your head around to face him. You bat your eyelashes at him, tongue darting out from between your lips, and you kiss him. His lips captured by your own, tongue dancing in your mouth, keeping his dominance over you. He spanks you once, twice, squeezes your hip, his mouth still locked on yours, kissing you tantalisingly. His kisses make you crave even more of him, his hand squeezing around your neck again as his pad of one finger travels down from your hip, pinching the skin on your pubic bone, and he presses down firmly on your clit. His thrusts grow erratic, the pressure on your clit and your oesophagus making the fire in your stomach spark even further, your high so quickly approaching…

He pulls away to whisper in your ear, “Come on me, pretty baby. Good girl.” You moan louder at his coaxing words, the wave of your second orgasm crashing over you and drowning you in pleasure. You cry out his name, his lips moving from pressing feather light kisses behind your ear to your lips, swallowing your screams of his names as much as he can. Your fluttering and shuttering around him allows Charlie to chase his high too. He throbs inside you, dick pulsating until he comes too, his movements slowing as you ride your highs out together.

You crash onto your bed face first, Charlie pulling out of you before joining you, your bare legs entangling as his fingertips brush your face.

“So, that was…”

“Perfect.” he finishes for you, pressing his lips to your nose gently.

“Yes,” you agree wistfully, savouring the moment of just being wrapped in his warmth, “a dream come true.”

He virtually giggles, unable to keep his hands off you. “Cuddles for a bit, and then round two?”

-x-

The next morning comes far too soon for your liking, sunlight blaring through your drapes and your bare legs tangled with someone else’s underneath your sheets, a strong arm draped over your body, warmth pressed against you.

You scramble as much as you can, jolting your neck to check that it was Charlie, and that last night was reality, and you let out the heaviest held breath you could from all the relief crashing down on you like waves, until reality hits. 

“Shit. Charlie, Charlie, you need to sort the dragons! Fuck!”

It’s already late, but Charlie just groans and brings you closer into him. 

“Charles,” you grumble, nudging his arm away from your body as best as you can, but still, he doesn’t budge and you’re too small to move him. “If it’s any consolation, we’ll definitely be doing this again, so you can let me go...”

Clearly that’s the remedy. His eyes shoot open and he begins to press soft kisses across the harsh marks he left last night, his hand gently caressing your soft skin, making you squirm and giggle a little. 

Charlie being as gently dominant as he is (complete softie), refuses to let you do anything without him. That includes showering, dressing and hair. He massages any bruises or rough spots where he was a little too strong last night, whispering sweet nothings in your ear, kissing you whenever he can get to your lips.

“Godric, baby, I haven’t been able to get you out my mind for three months.” He tells you, arms twined around your waist while you primp. “You’re so perfect, so beautiful, such a good girl for me.” 

Only a four year age gap, yet you still manage to moan the word ‘Daddy’ when he squeezes your hips just right and suckles on that sweet spot.

“Fuck,” his voice is breathy and strained, clearly trying to hold back, “if you call me that again then we’ll miss the task.”

You chuckle at him but hug him nonetheless. Yeah the intimacy is great, but this just started, and he’s a bloody good hugger. Just being close to him is enough. You wear his jacket and twine your fingers with his own, your other hand resting in the crook of his elbow to feel him as close as possible. When you finally do leave the dorm and climb down the disabled stair case, you get the strangest assortment of looks you’ve ever received, everything from shock to fury to admiration to jealousy. Your cheeks heat and you turn shyly into Charlie again, only for your console to be broken by a high pitched screech, one you know to belong to Fred and George when they’re feigning shock. 

“Y/N! How could you!” Fred bursts out, pointing at you with a quivering hand, jaw slackened and face aghast. 

“And Charlie, sleeping with a student!” George finishes, the exact same expression written across his face.

You merely scowl at them, but they’ve bought even more attention than you’d had before, namely two girls who would be far from happy. 

“Really Charlie?” Ginny says incredulously, making fake gagging noises but snuggling into her brother's side nonetheless, clearly happy to see him. 

Hermione stands before you, giving you a horrible stern, disapproving look with pursed lips and folded arms. You offer a snide side eye in return, not so subtly removing your hair from your neck just to watch Hermione’s reaction, and it’s worth the audible gasps from those around you. Bruising purple marks scattered across your neck and the join of your shoulder, a red handprint on the column of your throat. Hermione looks like she’ll faint from pure disapproval, after all, you were supposed to be the innocent animal girl.

“Part of me is impressed-“ Fred announces, a sly smirk painted on his lips. 

“And the other part is disgusted.” George adds, scanning you up and down as though vying for another tell tale sign.

Charlie gives them what they want, spinning you into his body with his hands holding your waist beneath your jumper, letting it ride up a little to show more bruises. The twins look nothing but dazzled at the sight of your skin covered in splendid marks. They give their brother a subtle look of solidarity, exchanging no further words before leaving. Hermione remains speechless, but Ginny looks simultaneously confused and scarred.

“Sorry Gin,” Charlie says with a genuinely apologetic style, but turns away from her, leaning down to fleetingly capture your lips. 

“I guess I’m something to talk about even when I’m gone, but I promise babe, there’s more where that came from. Dinner, tonight, the edge of the forest before I leave.”

You grin to yourself, squeezing his hand as you make your way to breakfast. All that passes through your mind is how wonderful it is that you finally have Charlie back. Your Charlie.