#percy weasley angst

[ffangirlingsince2001]

The Great Upheaval of Percy Weasley: Avoidance

Percy Weasley x OC

Description: Percy Weasley has been avoiding her and that will certainly not do.

Percy had been acting weird, not normal Percy weird, more like nervous schoolboy weird. And while Percy behaving strangely wouldn’t have worried Elle any other year, this year it was getting in her way. He was supposed to be her distraction, instead he was avoiding her. She was sure he couldn’t still be annoyed about her disappearing a few days ago. His kiss was enough to prove that. Yet, since then he hadn’t said a word, and ignored her invitations. She yanked her jumper over her head so hard it ripped. It was all she could do not to scream.

As she changed one black jumper to the next, she glanced out the window at the pouring rain. It was only one more thing to glare about. First Quidditch match of the year and she was going to be working in the rain, without warm lips to come back to.

“Hurry up, I want a good seat,” Dinah called.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Elle responded stepping out of the bathroom and grabbing her slicker.

“Wow, that’s some incredible house spirit,” Dinah said, noting her black jumper.

“I’m neutral.”

“Sure, until we win and then you drink like the rest of us.”

“Details, details.”

“Just make sure you take care of our team faster than theirs. I have a bet with Quinn, and I do not have the funds for a loss.” Elle rolled her eyes; this was the same conversation they had before every Quidditch match since Elle had started working for Madam Pomfrey in her fourth year.

“Do you want me to promise and lie, or just stay quiet.” Dinah only smacked her with her umbrella in response. “What’s the bet today?”

“Hufflepuff wins due to Gryffindor losing its seeker to an unforeseen injury.”

“You really have to stop betting on details and stick to just the winner.”

“Harry hasn’t been injured for ages.”

“Have you seen the weather; you could be injured in that storm.”

“It’s not that bad,” Dinah says as they pushed the door open, stepping into the torrent outside. The heavy oak pushed them back as the rain instantly soaked them.

“You were saying?” Elle yelled over the wind.

“Shut up,” Dinah yelled back, ducking her head as they marched towards the Quidditch pitch. They were halfway to the pitch when Elle realized she had left her wand sitting on the windowsill by her bed.

“Fuck, I forgot my wand,” she yelled.

“What?”

“I forgot my wand,” she yelled again, making a motion with her hand. “I’ll see you after the game.” Dinah waved her away as she continued her trek towards the pitch. Elle turned and ran back towards the castle, the wind pushing against her back all the way. She yanked open the doors and smacked right into the boy who had been avoiding her. His eyes widened and she accidentally glared.

“Elle-.”

“Move it Weasley, I’m on a deadline.”

“Wait-.”

“No, you’ll have to wait, I forgot my wand,” she growled pushing past him.

“Accio wand,” he announced, “Now, do you have a moment?” She whipped around. He’d been avoiding her, and now he had time to talk.

“Listen here, Percy Weasley, I don’t know who you think you are but-.” And then he was kissing her, right in the middle of the corridor, as if he didn’t give a damn about who came around the corner. She yanked herself away despite not wanting to.

“I’m sorry, they’ve got me following Potter. I haven’t been able to get away,” he said, catching her wand before handing it to her. She licked her teeth and glanced over her shoulder for anyone who might be watching, and then grabbed him by the tie kissing him again. When she pulled away, they were both grinning.

“Restricted section, after the game?” He kissed her again and she took that as a resounding yes. He pushed open the door for her and they both stepped back into the pouring rain that didn’t seem as cold as it did before.

When they reached the pitch, they waved their goodbyes and she slipped into the locker room, searching for Wood. She passed the girls changing and marched into the boy’s locker room.

“Wood!” she hollered, peaking around corners. She ran into the twins who both grinned but pointed her in the right direction without a suggestive comment from either, it seemed they remembered her threat from the last time they had crossed paths. “Wood.”

“Jesus Elle, you’re not supposed to be in here.”

“Oh shove it, I’m here to warn you.”

“About what?” he asked with a cocky grin and she slugged him in the arm.

“Listen, I know you like to take risks, don’t, not with the way it looks out there today.”

“Elle-.”

“Don’t argue with me. Just know there are two ways to fix broken bones, easy ways and hard ways, don’t make it the hard way.”

“You really know how write pep talk.”

“Shut up and win.” With that she walked out, noting Harry as she went and praying that Dinah would be winning money her bet today. She walked onto the pitch and winced at the spray of rain before finding Poppy in the medical tent.

“They shouldn’t be playing today,” the nurse fussed, and Elle nodded, glancing up at the sky.

“I couldn’t agree more.” She prepped everything they might need and sat at the edge of the tent, just out of reach of the rain. As she waited for the players to enter the arena she searched for Percy among the crowds. It wasn’t until Hufflepuff stepped out that she found his ginger curls whipping around in the wind, but she didn’t have long to stare before Madam Hooch tossed the quaffle into the air and the game began.

For being the worst weather she had ever seen, the first half of the game was without much injury. It seemed Wood had headed her warning (there was a first for everything). It wasn’t until the end of Katie Bell’s broom was struck with lightning that Elle was forced to make her way onto the field. She quickly put out the fire and checked the chaser over.

“All clear,” she yelled over the wind and then Katie was gone, back into the downpour the moment she was cleared. Elle returned to the tent only to run back out a few moments later as one of the Hufflepuff beaters was struck by lightning and came crashing down.

He wasn’t getting back on his broom anytime soon. She dragged him and his broom through the mud towards the tent and then levitated him onto a stretcher. She poured a thick white mixture into a cup and tipped it against his lips. Even through unconsciousness his nose scrunched at the smell, but she tipped his head back and poured it down his throat anyway. She was checking him over when she heard the gasps from outside.

She rushed into the rain just in time to see Harry hit the ground and Hufflepuff win the game. It seemed Quinn was going to be making her money today.

 She dropped to her knees and checked for a pulse, shocked to find how cold he was. No bones seemed to be broken and he had only suffered from a few minor scrapes and bruises.

“Poppy,” she hollered over the rain, “Bring the stretcher.” She raised the boy onto the stretcher and glanced wearily around at the students watching her. She yanked her attention away from them and back to Harry. “We need to get him warm, but other that he should be fine. Someone stopped him from hitting the ground hard enough for it to cause any damage.” Poppy nodded as she levitated the stretcher towards the castle. Elle rushed back inside and waited for the rest of the teams to wander through for their checks.

No one seemed particularly cheerful as they wandered through her tent. Whether that was the loss or the dementors she couldn’t be sure, but from the gloomy looks on the Hufflepuff team’s faces she guessed the latter. Everyone seemed to be fine but she asked Katie to stop by the Hospital Wing for a quick check up, just to make sure, and then levitated the Hufflepuff boy back to the castle.

Both teams had beat her back, and the Hufflepuffs were waiting patiently for their teammate.

“He should be awake in a few minutes,” she assured them before finding Poppy. The nurse sent her away, assuring her that there was nothing more she could do. She checked just to make sure, but Poppy had no problem swatting her away from patients either. She grinned and turned, doing her best not to sprint out of the Hospital Wing and towards the Restricted Section. However, she was intercepted on her way by a pair of cold hands and warm lips.

“I thought we agreed the Restricted Section?”

“Too far,” he murmured against her lips, locking the door behind him before pushing her against it. “How long will he be in the Hospital Wing?”

“A couple more hours at least.”

“Perfect,” he said before pulling her close again. He was almost as famished as she was as he hoisted her up and set her on a desk. His hands slipped beneath her jumper and she jumped at the cold tips of his fingers. “Are you okay?”

“Your hands are just cold,” she laughed grabbing his hands in hers and blowing softy. She could feel him shiver against her breath. She glanced up to meet his eyes before dropping his hands to cup his face before kissing him again. Warmer hands dropped back to the hem of her jumper before finding her skin once more. This time, instead of jumping away, she leaned in closer, relishing the feeling of his fingers creeping along the dips of her stomach. He peeled off her jumper and goosebumps followed his touch to the band of her bra.

She tilted her head as his lips found her neck and tugged on his curls, still damp from the rain. She was vaguely aware of his fingers tracing the band around to the clasp. He fumbled with it before giving up and simply resting his hand beneath the fabric. His other hand found her thigh, pulling it up against his waist. The denim stretched against the apex of her thighs as he pulled her closer.

“Elle,” he whispered against her skin and she pushed him away only to pull his lips to hers.

“Never again Percy Weasley, you hear me?” she asked against his lips, but he only cocked his hand in confusion. He pulled his hands away, as if he had done something wrong, but she caught him before he could fully retreat. “Never again will you ditch me like that,” she said before kissing him again. She pulled away once more to study his face, “Do you understand me?”

“Crystal clear.”

Excellent,” she laughed, emphasizing her pleasure with a harsh kiss to his jaw. She traced her thumb over the spot where she had kissed him moments before.  “Excellent,” she repeated.

“You’re excellent, and trust me, if I’m stupid enough to disappear again I will cast the curse for you.” She grinned and wrapped her legs around his waist, yanking him closer. Tangling her fingers in his hair, she breathed him in, drowning in the euphoria of warm lips while thunder crashed around them.

taglist: @andromedasstarship @danadeacon

[noelan1]

Do you ever read a really questionable fanfiction or a spicy love story and think "what the fuck did I just read"

[fredgeorgegredfeorge]

Green-Eyed Monster | F.W.

For the first time ever, Fred Weasley finds himself jealous over the only person in the world he needn’t worry a bit about.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x f!reader

Word count: 8k

Warnings: SMUT 18+, unprotected sex, oral + fingering (f!receiving, (lots of) dirty talk, name calling, praise/degradation, dom/sub dynamic, some nipple play, touch of a breeding kink, possessiveness/jealousy, some toxic themes, established relationship, swearing, drinking, arguing, angst, fluff, sorry if miss any!

first hp fic in a very long time! what better to post than this mess (jealous, possessive, sexy mess). basically pwp—let me know what you think! (Barely edited at all lmao my apologies)

You sat quietly at George’s desk, eyes focused on a piece of parchment as you both tried to break down the recipe George had scribbled down. There was a hiccup, a hitch in the plan of brewing a batch of Euphoria Elixir for the joke shop, and it was pushing back your plans to place them on the shelves this week. After a few hours of quiet deliberation on his lonesome, George decided to seek your help in hopes of speeding up the process.

So, the two of you put your heads together and re-read the ingredient list a million times, wondering how the hell it turned out murky green instead of sunshine-y yellow. The cauldron sat smoldering across the room, a rain cloud above it as the bubbly mixture spilled over the sides. Upon first glance, you had stated the absolute obvious.

“Isn’t that supposed to be a rainbow?” You raised an eyebrow, looking at your brother-in-law as he collapsed in his chair.

“Yes, you git.” George rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. You shot him a sharp look, warning him to be nice if he wanted your help. You knew George didn’t mean any of the insults—he was simply frustrated and maybe even a little embarrassed that he could not figure it out by himself. “Sorry, Y/N.” He conceded, realizing he came on a bit too strong.

“S’alright.” You assured him, stepping towards the desk where he sat. “Where’s the ingredient list? We’ll start there.” You offered, knowing you would help no matter how poor of a mood he was in. You loved George almost as much as you loved Fred, if you had to compare. Even if it was in a different way, you had a hard time refusing him when he used the same charm tactics as his twin brother.

After spending so many years in a relationship with Fred, it would be obscure for you not to have a bond with the closest person to him. Over the years, he’d surpassed a friend and had grown into your own brother. You were certain that no matter where life took you and Fred, George would always hold a special place in your heart. When the two opened their shop in Diagon Alley, you volunteered most of your free time to help them in any way you could, and whether it was tweaking new products or doing some of the dirty work, you never really minded.

That evening in specific, Fred was off on some ‘official business’, which really just meant meeting with a potential product buyer at The Leaky Cauldron. Last month, George took the burden of doing so, and they decided it was only fair for him to do it this time. Unfortunately for you, as much as you loved supporting them, it did interfere with your evening plans with him. So, sulking and trying your best to swallow it down, you distracted yourself with stocking shelves downstairs to prepare for another busy day ahead.

You were actually near grateful when George emerged from the office, calling out to you in desperation. It gave you a break from the monotonous back and forth, and someone to talk to. If it could not be Fred, you decided George was the next best.

“So, what’d’ya think it could be?” George asked, peeking over the cauldron that was still spitting back at him. He dodged out of the way, trying his best not to get any of the splashback on his new jumper.

“Well, from what you’ve told me, seems like you put all the right stuff in.” You deducted, pursing your lips slightly as you read over the list for what seemed like the millionth time. “Sad as it sounds, I doubt we can save it now, even if we figure out what happened.” You said, recalling your potions knowledge that Snape had relayed over the years.

“Right, but I’d like to know what’s wrong before I try again.” He explained, taking a moment to look over your sad expression. His eyebrows furrowed, his head cocking to the side as he tried to figure out where it was coming from. “What’s got your knickers in a twist?” Your eyes flickered upwards to meet his, your cheeks tinged red from the heat of the room. Your lips dipped into a frown as you shrugged your shoulders, brushing him off so you did not need to explain yourself. “I know you better than that. Come on, now.” He urged, placing his palms flat against the desk as he leaned towards you, a challenging look in his eye.

You narrowed your brows, keeping a stony expression as you met his gaze. “What’s it to you, Weasley?” You shot back, unsure of where your defensive nature was coming from. Perhaps you weren’t willing to discuss your relationship problems with your boyfriend’s twin brother, or maybe it was because you felt foolish for being upset at all.

“Reckon we’re past that, hmm? Your problems are our problems, and all.” He responded, also unsure of why you were being so reserved with your thoughts. Usually, you were an open book, especially with the two of them.

“My problems aren’t your problems, Georgie.” You shook your head, shutting down the ridiculous notion. “Let’s get back to the real problem, yeah?”

“No, I don’t think so.” George disagreed, his concern now over something completely different. “Is it about Fred?” At that, the tips of your ears began to burn and you shifted uncomfortably in your seat. “Ah, I see.” A devious smile crossed his lips.

“It’s not a big deal.” You covered your tracks, tapping the ink-less quill against the worn parchment.

“I have a hard time believing you, considering you just lied to me.”

“Lied is a strong word,” you rolled your eyes, quickly realizing that there would be no escaping the conversation. “I didn’t lie about anything.”

“What’s he done?”

“Nothing!” You exclaimed, a dry laugh leaving your lips. “It’s just… I’m just being dramatic.” And it’s true, you were being dramatic. Well, maybe not fully, but that’s what you were trying to convince yourself of. “I just miss him, I suppose. I know you both have been busy, but I think maybe I underestimated how busy you would actually be.” You continued, knowing it was wrong to confide in his twin brother about your relationship issues. Still, it felt good to get it off your chest, to voice the concern and have someone shoot you down, just so you knew you were being irrational. “This is the third night in a row we’ve canceled our plans. I’ll get over it. It’s no big deal.”

“That’s a big deal.” He hummed, sympathizing with you to make you feel better. “Bloody inconsiderate, if you ask me.” But you weren’t asking him, and somehow his justification of your feelings only made you feel worse. “What? Not allowed to speak my mind?”

“No—“ you let out a defeated sigh, slumping down in your seat. “I know that, but I was hoping you would tell me I’ve gone mad, instead.”

“Blimey, Y/N, you’re allowed to be upset. We're busy, yeah, but you’re still his girlfriend.” George said, jumping slightly when the rain cloud above the cauldron let out a crack of thunder. “If you’d rather, we can forget the elixir and grab dinner instead. I’m not Fred, but I’m pretty damn close.” He gave you a cheeky smile, earning an honest laugh from you.

“S’alright, Georgie. Thank you, though.” You appreciated his kindness, but you were sure it would only make your predicament even worse, considering Fred’s recently acquired short-fuse when it came to you and George spending so much time together. It was odd for him to be so protective, so jealous of the one person in the world he needn’t worry about, but it seemed as though the new trait was permanent. Perhaps it came from the fact he was also missing you due to your busy schedules, and how it sometimes seemed you and George were most often left at the shop alone.

“You know, I have noticed that lately.” George continued, leaning against the desk as he reminisced over the last few weeks. “Always seems to be us stuck here together.”

“Mhm.” You mumbled, slowly realizing that you weren’t as insane as you previously thought if he was noticing all of the same things. “Let’s just figure this out so I can get home.”

So you did. A grueling hour spent recounting George’s every step in brewing the elixir left the two of you puzzled and even more frustrated. By that point in the night, you were hunched over the long list of his steps you had jotted down so you could (hopefully) discover what he missed.

“I dunno, Georgie.” You sighed. “Seems like you did everything—“ you cut yourself off, leaning closer to the page on the desk as you caught something you hadn’t seen before.

“What?” He asked, his head snapping towards you. “What is it?”

“You said when you let it simmer, it was turquoise.” You said, looking up at him.

“Yeah, so?” He replied, confused why it was such a big deal.

“It’s meant to be blue.” You explained, a grin on your face as you relayed the information to him.

“Turquoise… blue… same thing, innit?” He asked, standing and walking over to you.

“Maybe to you.” You giggled, pointing to the piece of paper where he missed the step. “After you add the shrivelfig, you have to stir it until it changes color.” He walked up behind you, placing one hand on your arm as he leaned over your opposite shoulder. He smelled of butterbeer, likely due to the one he’d been nursing the entire time you sat together. You immediately noticed the warmth of his body, how similar it felt to how Fred touched you, but how drastically different it was all the same.

“Blimey, you’re right!” He exclaimed, his voice still soft so he was not yelling in your ear. “What would I do without you?” He gave your arm a gentle squeeze, leaning closer and pressing the side of his face to yours in a makeshift hug. His hand dropped to your back, lingering there as the conversation continued.

“It’s nothing, really.” You smiled, closing your eyes to enjoy the warmth for a moment. “So now you know. You can do it again, but make sure to stir it until it’s blue. By tomorrow, we’ll have it bottled and on the shelves just like we planned.”

“Our number one girl, saving the day yet again.” He sighed in relief. “I better get to it—“

Before his thought could finish, the door to the office swung open, cutting him short. Your eyes turned upwards, landing on a slightly drunken version of the boyfriend who’d abandoned your evening plans. The gloss of his eyes and the goofy smile on his lips led you to believe so, and the redness on the apples of his cheeks only solidified it. Only his cheeky grin didn’t last too long when he processed the scene in front of him, how close the two of you were, how heavy George’s hand seemed on your back and how rosy your own cheeks were.

Quickly, his jaw tightened, his gaze narrowing as he tried to decipher the whole situation. His nostrils flared ever so slightly, and his arms raised to cross over his chest. Immediately, you knew what you’d be in for; a long, tiresome argument that changed absolutely nothing. Instead of fighting the silent accusations, defending yourself for no real reason at all, you watched him with the same intensity while you awaited a snide comment.

“So what’s all this, then?” Fred asked, his face clearly conveying all of his emotions.

“Helping Georgie make the elixir while you were off getting sloshed at The Leaky Cauldron.” You muttered, noticing George straighten himself up in hopes of avoiding any further damage.

“I was not getting sloshed, I was doing business.” He corrected, defensive over the fact. “S’pose you were hoping I’d take a little longer, yeah? Give you some more time to cozy up with my brother?”

“Blimey, Fred. If you took any longer, I’d imagine you’d have to move in with the lad.” George took your side on the matter. “At least she wouldn’t have to worry about you missing dinner again.” At that, Fred’s eyes cut to you, immediately understanding where the underlying tension was coming from.

“Is that right?” Fred’s voice was no louder than a whisper, all of the pieces clicking together in an instant. “I don’t suppose the two of you had dinner? Let him fill in for me while I was gone?”

“No, we did not.” You snipped, standing as you gathered the ingredients for George’s second attempt at the brew.

“Yeah, right. What else did he fill in for, sweetheart? Anything you think I should know?” At that, your eyes widened and your face turned red. Your entire body felt like it was engulfed in flames, appalled that he would even think such a thing.

“Piss off, Fred.” You muttered, stepping out from behind the desk as tears stung your eyes. George shot you a sympathetic look as you pushed past his brother and out into the stairwell. You trodded down to the main level, swiping fallen tears away from your cheeks as you rushed out the front entrance of the building.

The cool air of the night was nice, especially after spending so long cramped up in the tiny office space, but it was not as freeing as you might have hoped once you heard footsteps following behind you. Without acknowledging him, you pulled your keys from your pocket, hoping that maybe he forgot his own set and you wouldn’t have to deal with his drunken arguments tonight if you got inside before him.

Of course, you knew that was childish and cruel, because despite being upset with him, loving him was the only thing you knew how to do. You unlocked the front door, holding it open with your boot-clad foot as he stumbled his way behind you. As soon as he passed through the doorway, you continued on your journey to ignore him and tossed your keys on the counter.

“Hey,” Fred reached out, his warm hand landing on your arm, stopping you from running any further from him.

“What?” You snapped, immediately regretting the harshness of your tone. He recoiled at the sound, shocked that you spoke to him in such a way. Usually the two of you saw eye to eye on everything, and in your long standing relationship arguing had never been your thing. Until you left school, you were certain the two of you had never been angry at each other, ever.

“What the bloody hell was that about? I leave for a few hours, and the two of you get on like that? Does that happen every time I step out?” You couldn’t help but roll your eyes again, wondering why this became such a problem in the few short months you’d been graduated.

“Merlin, Fred. You’re acting like you caught us in a broom closet.” You tried again to make your way to the bedroom, unwilling to argue a point he knew was blasphemous anyhow. “We were working, not fucking.”

“Yeah, but I bet you would’ve let him, right?” He grabbed your hand, spinning you back around to face him. He pulled you into him, his athletic build never leaving him even after he stopped playing quidditch. “Bitching and moaning cause I couldn’t be home to take you to dinner… if you were so upset, why didn’t you come to me, princess? Tell me what was wrong?” You could smell fire whiskey on his breath, feeling his chest heaving with anger against your own. As angry as you were, you couldn’t help but feel a rush of arousal run through you. The slight sneer on his face, the fire in his eyes, and the protective hold he had on you was sending your head spinning with thoughts much less pertinent to the topic at hand.

“Maybe I would have if you spared me the time of day.” You argued, finding yourself short of breath as you realized just how much he towered over you. “But, as it seems, you’ve been too damn busy to spare me a second glance.”

“Christ, when did you get so needy?” His rebuttal came easy, like he’d been waiting to have this fight for weeks. “Weren’t satisfied at home, so you thought my brother could do it for you?”

“Are you daft?” You hissed, feeling his fingers tighten on your hips. You hated that the feeling made you forget about your troubles, urging you to push the argument to the side and settle it in a better, more pleasurable way. “If that’s what I wanted, you think I’d be up here arguing with you?”

“That depends, sweetheart. Were you planning on getting caught?” He raised an eyebrow, the thud of his heart against his chest letting you know just how worked up he was. There was no way he truly believed you would do that to him, especially after all you had been through together. You wondered if maybe the lack of time spent with each other was getting to him, souring his thoughts because he missed you just as much as you missed him. “We may be identical, Princess, but he could never give you what I can.”

You hated to admit it, but for some strange reason, jealousy looked really good on him.

“What, a headache and a poor mood?” You decided to play his game if he wasn’t willing to listen to reason. If he wanted to fight, you could do it too. “I’m sure he could manage. In fact, he could probably do a hell of a lot more.” That seemed to strike a nerve in him, pushing him over the edge in an instant and changing the entire mood hanging heavy in the room. He no longer wanted to talk, but rather prove a point.

He took a step backwards, never easing his hold as he pushed you towards the kitchen table. He didn’t stop until your ass hit the edge, a mischievous look in his eye replacing the earlier annoyance. He had you locked in place, no intent to back down as he stared down at you over the bridge of his nose. Then, a small smirk turned the corner of his lips, leading you to believe he was also thinking of a much more simple way to solve your problems.

“Maybe you just need a reminder of who you belong to, yeah?” He asked, his voice quieter than it was before. You felt your mouth run dry, your eyes never leaving his as a dull ache between your legs began to pester you.

That would make you feel better, but he had pissed you off enough that you wanted to refuse him the satisfaction.

“Maybe we should get Georgie up here. According to you, he’d be the one to set me straight.” There was a slight venom in your tone letting him know you wouldn’t be letting anything go so easily. A low chuckle shook his shoulders, his eyes gleaming with a sinister look you weren’t sure you’d ever seen from him before that night. He shook his head ever so slightly, playing into you as he reached one arm behind you.

Your heart raced as you awaited a response, wondering if maybe you pushed him too far and crossed a boundary you could not double back on. You didn’t have to wonder long, because without a second thought, he cleared all of the items littering the table with one swift move of his arm. Papers scattered everywhere, floating through the air and landing all over the floor. Broken products and half finished merchandise for the shop tumbled off the edge, falling less than gracefully onto the tile below. Without ever breaking eye contact, he raised an eyebrow, daring you to say it again.

“You think he can fuck you better than I can?” He asked, giving you the opportunity to change your mind.

“Right now? Yeah.” You spat, wondering if he’d ever drop the act and get on with his day. “Seems like all you want to do is get on my nerves.”

“Yeah?” He challenged, his face so close to yours you could feel his breath on your skin. The tip of his nose grazed your own, his normally warm and comforting irises engulfed by his lust-blown pupils. Or perhaps it was anger that gave him the new look—you weren’t quite sure. “You’d rather go home with him at night? Wake up next to him every morning? Is that really what you want, princess?” He taunted, knowing very well that your heart was his, even if he found himself caught up in a few moments of doubt.

Still neglecting to give him any gratification, you nodded your head despite the sickening feeling that washed over you at the thought. As if he called your bluff before you ever said it aloud, he laughed at the certainty in your action, which only seemed to anger you further.

“If that’s the case, seems like I’ve got my work cut out for me tonight.” He responded, brushing the comment off as if it were nothing. If there was one thing Fred couldn’t ever turn down, it was a challenge, and since coming upstairs with you, it was only further proven to him that’s all this was. “Maybe I’ve gotten too comfortable, sweetheart. After so long, you think you’d know that you’re mine, huh?” Before he continued his tyrant, he used his hands on your hips to lift you onto the table with ease. The ache between your legs had grown stronger, more intense and impossible to ignore. You could feel the wetness soaking through your panties, and the thought of his strong arms lifting you so carelessly only made you spiral further. “Maybe I expect too much of you.” He theorized, recognizing the gleam in your eyes because he’d seen it a thousand times before.

He let his hands trail under the hem of your jumper, settling on the button of your jeans as he undid it with ease. You never let your eyes trail from his face, realizing that no matter how upset you were, it could never take away from how much you loved him. He was beautiful, his fiery red hair and the freckles splattered across his cheeks and nose creating a perfect picture. The softness of his complexion and the gentleness hidden deep in his expression assured you that whatever the two of you were doing was nothing more than an act. He knew you were his just as well as you did, but he knew the only way to settle the (admittedly, misguided) fear was to hear you say it aloud.

You helped him pull the fabric from your legs, wrapping your arms around his neck as you lifted your hips from the table. He discarded the clothing on the floor, paying no mind to it as he returned his hands to your bare legs. His eyes searched your face, carefully looking for any sign of discomfort. Instead, he was met with a pleading expression that only seemed to fuel his too large ego even further.

“No matter,” he disregarded his earlier rant, his eyes growing heavy as his hand fell between your legs. His fingertips grazed the thin fabric separating him from your core, a shiver running down his spine as he noticed the arousal that had soaked straight through. “I don’t mind having to show you. Least I’ll get to have my fun too, yeah?” He applied slight pressure to your aching clit, watching to see your reaction. Your eyebrows knitted together, your lips parting slightly as your hips moved forward into his hand, your body betraying your mind and begging him for something more.

At that, a grin encased his face, happy to see that he hadn’t lost his touch, even if your lives were vastly different and ever-changing by the day. He knew exactly how to make you feel good, and he took pride in it.

“See, Princess? She’ll always tell me the truth.” He taunted, his voice quiet as his eyes trailed down to his hand. You swallowed hard, knowing he had you in a stalemate. “Tell me again, who do you think knows how to make you feel good? Who does it best?” He was on a power trip, unwilling to slow down until he heard you admit it. Still, you stood your ground, pressing your lips tightly together so not a single sound could pass through. His grin faded, slowly sinking into a scowl as your disobedience remained clear.

He removed his finger from you, tracing the hem of your panties as he hooked his finger through the side of the fabric resting on your hip. He awaited an answer, giving you the opportunity to change your mind. When you kept your stoicism, he gave one, hard tug on the lacy fabric until it snapped in two. He used his other hand to do it to the opposite side, giving himself easy access to you without hearing a complaint on your end.

“So you don’t care who’s between your legs?” He continued, unrelenting as you stared him down. “Doesn’t matter who, as long as there’s a cock in you? As long as someone’s taking care of your pretty pussy?” Your cheeks flushed, your chest burning as the filthy words washed over you. “Doesn’t matter, sweetheart. When I’m done with you, I’ll be the only person you can think of. Surely then you won’t be able to forget who you belong to.”

His hand connected with your bare cunt, his fingers trailing through your arousal and settling over your clit as he began to trace slow circles into the sensitive area. Your legs trembled at the contact, finally feeling some relief from the nagging sensation that had been taking over.

“Fuck. Fred.” You whispered, giving yourself away immediately. He let out a low hum, pleased with the sound and knowing he was the reason for it. He had you where he wanted you, and now he just had to keep up the pace. You could feel his hardening length against your leg, distracting you completely from the pent up anger and frustration.

“That’s it.” He encouraged, his middle finger sinking inside of you as he let his thumb take over on your clit. “That’s my girl.” He made sure to accentuate the claim, never once letting you forget it. “All you needed was a little help remembering.” Slowly, he pumped his finger into you, keeping time with his thumb as he began to work you towards a climax. “You want to say it for me? Tell me what I already know?” Instead of responding, you let out a whine, your hips bucking forward into his hand. Although it wasn’t what he was looking for, it was just enough for him to keep going.

He curled his fingers as he pumped them into you, begging for a reaction as your hand wrapped around his bicep for support. You felt the tense of his muscles as he worked at you, only pushing you closer to insanity. You were his, undoubtedly and wholeheartedly, and you would be crazy to ever want anyone else.

“Stubborn little thing tonight.” He remarked, his eyes focused on the point in which his hand met with you, never breaking his stare as he watched his fingers disappear into you. “What’s gotten into you?”

“Need more, Freddie.” You replied, your eyes squeezed shut as you felt the pleasure pulsing under your skin. It had been a long time since you felt him this way, and your impatience was quite clear.

“My little whore needs more?” He teased, applying a little more pressure with his thumb. A gasp fell from your lips, sending your upper half leaning forward until your forehead rested against his. “Asking a lot from someone you aren’t being very good for.” He chastised you for your behavior despite being the one that caused the problem in the first place.

“M’sorry, my love. S-so sorry.” You rushed out, his fingers brushing against the sweet spot inside you only he knew how to find.

“That’s not what I want to hear sweetheart, and you know it.” His tone was firm, unrelenting as he continued his torment. You let out a groan of frustration, wishing he’d quicken the pace and give you what you wanted, even though you refused to give in to him.

He leaned forward, closing the gap between your mouths as he grew tired of waiting for the words he wanted to hear. He tasted like the whiskey that had been fuelling his poor mood, sweet and bitter all at once as his tongue grazed your bottom lip. You hated how easy it was for him to turn you into a mess, hated how easy it was for him to make you forget you were angry at all. You pulled him closer to you, holding his arm tightly so he would not pull away. You were stubborn, but despite that, you were showing him everything he wanted to see through your actions alone.

You broke from the kiss as a particularly intense wave of euphoria pulled your stomach. Your forehead continued to rest on his, holding you upright as he continued to give you just enough to keep you satisfied.

“Say it, princess.” His voice was low, raspy and laced with desire as he watched you turn into a mess below him. “Tell me you’re all mine. Tell me I’m the only one who can make you feel like this.” Instead, you connected your mouths again, letting a desperate moan out at the same time. He drank in the sound, his cock throbbing as his hips jutted forward into nothing. He was almost more desperate than you were, which only allowed for you to take him less seriously.

“G-gonna have to try harder than that.” You found a peculiar pleasure in leaving him on edge, giving him a taste of his own medicine as he continued to torture both of you at once. “Show me why I should say it, Freddie. Seems like you’re all t-talk.” You stuttered, tripping over your words as you tried to keep your composure.

He withdrew his hand from you, making you cry out in frustration from the loss of pleasure. Your eyes met his, desperation written all over your face as you protested his actions. Silently, he sunk to his knees between your legs, pulling you to the edge of the table by your hips. He didn’t spare a single glance at your face before his tongue connected with your core, the warm wetness of his tongue even more pleasurable than the rough pad of his thumb.

You laid back on the table, your hands sinking downwards and tangling in the soft locks of hair. Although you were denying him of the statement he wanted to hear, you could not deny that your last argument was wholly untrue. Fred was determined to prove a point, and he was doing it well.

You weren’t far off from an orgasm, his tongue making quick work at pushing you to the edge. The sounds falling from your lips were telling of your current state, and as delirium began to set in, your defenses began to break down.

He suctioned his lips around your clit, adding his fingers to the mix and returning to his earlier pace to torture you further. Every nerve in your body was ablaze with desire, need seeping from every pore as you realized just how badly you needed the release. Sick of the game, you finally broke in fear he would leave you hanging yet again.

“Oh, god.” You gasped, your legs resting over his shoulders in attempt to stop the constant trembling of the lips. “I’m yours, Fred, fuck!” You exclaimed, a sheen layer of sweat forming over your forehead as the knot in your belly began to tighten. “Only you can make me feel this good. Nobody else.” You whined, your fingers tightening on the locks of hair as you began to tug at the strands. You could feel him smiling against you, happy to finally hear you admit the truth.

Pleased with your confessions, he curled his fingers against your g-spot one last time, generously giving you the very thing you’d been pleading for. In a mess, your entire body tensed as the pleasure took hold. The orgasm washed over you, leaving your heart racing against your chest and your head swirling with filthy thoughts for the boy between your legs. A hum of approval let you know he was more than happy with your performance, and he kept his pace until he felt you relax against the table below you.

Once he knew he’d gotten the most out of you, he rose to his feet, towering over you as you laid below him. In the dim moonlight, you could see your orgasm glistening on his chin, only furthering his cockiness as he ran his tongue over his bottom lip so he did not waste a drop of it.

“Always taste so sweet, princess.” He whispered, using one hand to free himself from his pants and his boxers. “And it’s all for me.” He continued, slipping his shirt from his head. He used it to wipe his face clean before tossing it on the floor to join the growing pile of clothes. With shaky hands, you lifted your upper half from the table and pulled your own jumper over your head. “Isn’t that right?” He stepped toward, settling between your legs as his hands ghosted over your bare thighs.

You let out a whimper, his grip landing on your already sore hips as his eyes raked over your entire frame. Your gaze flickered to his cock, hard and aching for relief as he continued to tease you. His fingers tickled your stomach as he trailed his touch upwards, his palm landing flat against your breast as he gave it a gentle squeeze. He let the pad of his thumb brush over your hardened nipple, sending another wave of pleasure through you.

“Answer me, sweetheart.” He wasn’t playing anymore; he wanted to hear the words, and he was done with your obstinacy. He pinched your nipple between his thumb and forefinger,

“Yes,” you huffed, already forgetting the pleasure from your first climax as a whole new wave of need began to take over. “I’m yours, Fred. All yours.” You reiterated your earlier statement, now willing to do whatever he wanted of you to prove the point.

“Tell me how bad you want it.” He shot you a twisted little smile, almost as if he was getting off just from the thought of you begging for him.

“I need it, baby. Need to feel you, please.” You whined, reaching for his arms and pulling him closer. “Want you so bad, Fred. Been waiting all night for it.” You felt the tip of his cock connect with your cunt, his expression faltering as soon as he felt the wetness.

“God, you make it so hard to be upset with you.” He hissed the words through his teeth, using his hand to guide himself through your folds as he sucked in a sharp breath. He settled himself just over your already sensitive clit, pushing his hips forward ever so slightly to apply pressure to the spot. “Sound so pretty when you’re begging to be fucked.”

Slowly, he let his tip run back through your arousal, settling the head just at your entrance. He pushed himself forward, but just barely. You whimpered as you braced yourself for the feeling, only to be let down when he stopped himself from going any further.

“Fred,” you warned, catching his eye so he could see your desperate face. You hoped that if he did, he would stop being such a tease. “Please fuck me.”

“What was that?” He smirked, turning his head slightly so his ear was closer to you. “Didn’t quite catch it.”

“Fred, stop—“ you cut yourself off, letting out a huff of annoyance. You knew chastising him for his actions would only make him less likely to give in, even if it was incredibly hard to hold it back. “I need you to fuck me.” You repeated, clearer and louder in hopes of swaying his decision. “Can’t wait any longer, baby. Please.”

At that, he pushed forward the rest of the way, sending your entire body raising with goosebumps. The stretch as he filled you was exactly what you craved, and as he reached the hilt, his tip brushed against your g-spot so delicately that it almost made you come undone right then and there. Your eyelids grew heavy with satisfaction, focusing on how full you felt with him inside of you, knowing that he for certain would always be the one for you.

“That good enough for you, Princess? This is what you wanted?” He asked, letting himself rest inside you for a moment. He felt your walls flutter around him, pulling him even further and making it harder for him to resist you.

“Mhm,” you hummed, giving him a tired nod of agreement. You could feel him throbbing inside of, desperate for a release just like you had been moments before, but he was still trying to prove his point.

“Nobody else gets to have you like this, sweetheart. You’re mine.” He whispered, now sober from the alcohol but intoxicated by an even stronger, deadlier force; you. “He couldn’t fuck you like this, and you know it.” As he spoke, he withdrew his hips and slammed them forward into you again. The action stole the breath from your lungs, twisting your stomach with pleasure as your nails scratched over his skin.

He began at a pace, slower than normal but the force behind his movements making your head spin. You moaned quietly, lost within the feeling of being so close to him. He never failed to take your breath away, never failed to amaze you with his every move. You were so in love with him it sometimes felt like there was no room within your heart for anyone or anything else.

“Tell me, Y/N.” He ordered, his stare never wavering as he fucked into you. As much as he wanted to succumb to the sensation of you wrapped around him, he found it hard to push the thoughts of your earlier arguments out of his head. “You think he’d fuck you like this? You think he could make you feel this good?”

“No, Freddie.” You gasped, feeling the strength of his thrusts increase, sending the legs of the table wobbling. His fingers tightened on your hips, likely leaving behind angry red marks that would fade into reminders of him for days to come.

“That’s it, Princess.” He panted, his chest heaving as he tried to resist the pull of pleasure. “Don’t you think, not even for a second, that anyone can give you half of what I can.” You both knew this to be fact; nobody in the entire world could ever compare to him. “And why do you think that is?”

“‘C-cause I’m yours,” you managed to stutter out the response, watching him as the statement washed over. He brought his hand to your thigh, your legs wrapped tightly around you as he pulled you back on him with every thrust. His head fell back on his shoulders, the dim light of the room casting a beautiful hue over his already breathtaking features.

“That’s right,” he grunted, slamming his hips forward again. There was a thin layer of sweat sheen on his chest, the toned muscles of his abdomen flexing every time he moved. The exposed columns of his neck made your mouth water, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed back his own groans of pleasure. “Was that why you were mouthing off? You just needed someone to take care of you? Just needed me to fuck you?”

“God, yes.” You moaned, feeling the pressure in your belly begin to reach a peak.

“You gonna cum for me, sweetheart? All over my cock?” He smiled, looking down at you so he could appreciate the view. “Come on now, making a fucking mess of it.”

“Fuck,” you whimpered, his words hitting you hard and causing the tightening knot in your belly to tense even further.

“That’s my pretty girl. Just like that.” He continued to encourage you, studying your expression as pleasure began to twist it.

It didn’t take much more for you to descend into another orgasm, your entire body quivering as you cried out for him, singing his name like a hymn and he was the god in which you prayed to. Your throat was raw, raspy from the constant string of moans passing your lips. You were tired, almost too fucked out to continue on, but he was having none of it. He didn’t slow his pace as you came down from the high, instead speeding up and ensuring that he pulled your entire body down on him as he fucked into you.

“Freddie, please.” You breathed, feeling the threat of overstimulation begin to creep in. He would have had sympathy had he known you couldn’t take it, but he was confident in your ability to keep up with him.

“What’s wrong, Princess? Wanted it so bad and now you can’t handle it?” He asked, his eyes glazed over with lust as he felt himself approaching his own orgasm. You frowned at his words, now on a quest to prove your own point as you tried to ignore the stinging beginning to set in.

“I can t-take it.” You huffed, a shiver running down your spine as he reached upwards and palmed your breast. He gave the supple flesh a gentle squeeze, his eyes closing in bliss as he let himself slip out of the persona he had created.

“Being so good for me—just a bit longer now.” He whispered, his voice far away as his eyes settled over your face once more. “Bloody hell, Y/N.” he groaned, his forehead creasing as his eyebrows furrowed together. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

He slipped his hand between your legs, his thumb landing atop your clit. He traced slow circles, knowing you were a bit further behind him and unwilling to climax without giving you at least one more. He could see how tired you were, but it did not deter him from his commitment to pleasing you.

“I love you, Fred.” You whispered, softened entirely by the sweet look in his eyes. All of his previous anger fled, leaving him just as the boy you’d fallen so hopelessly for.

“I love you, sweetheart.” He hummed, his hips stuttering and his stature faltering. “Give me one more, yeah? I know you can do it.” And he was right, your entire body was ablaze with another orgasm much more powerful than the last two.

“Together?” You gasped, reaching up and settling your palm on his cheek.

“Yeah? You want to cum with me?” He encouraged your train of thought. “Want me to fill that pretty cunt? Really show you who you belong to?”

“Fuck yes, please.” You cried, your fingertips tangling in the locks of hair hanging over his ears. Your walls clenched around him, drawing him in and effortlessly finishing what you had started.

You felt his hips stall, a low growl leaving his lips as he pulled you down on him one last time. He managed to whisper your name as he spilled his release into you, the feeling of him filling you completely sending you spiraling on your own accord. You let out a defeated sigh, the tail end of it turning into a whine as your body went rigid. Your nails scratched at the skin of his arm, your hand on him the only thing keeping you tied to earth instead of floating up and through the clouds.

The both of you rode the high together, euphoria infiltrating every nerve in both of your bodies as he leaned down towards you. Ever so gently, he laid his head on your chest, which was still heaving as you tried to catch up from the lack of oxygen. He placed a plethora of small kisses against the warm skin, his eyes fluttering closed as he appreciated the comfort that came with your company.

Silence hung heavy between you for a few moments, neither of you sure where to go from there. You were still strung out on bliss, barely remembering what got the two of you in the position until he spoke again.

“M’sorry, sweetheart.” His voice barely broke through the room, so timid and shy that you almost missed it completely. “I know you’d never do that. Just got in my head, I s’pose.”

“I… I get it.” You sighed, twisting a lock of his hair. “If I walked in on that, after us being so.. you know. I’d likely feel it too.” You confessed. “I was upset that we had to cancel dinner. I am upset, but not at you.” You tried your best to explain yourself despite exhaustion eating away at your mind. “I’m just upset because I miss you. You’re so busy now, and I’m happy for you, really, but I miss you too.”

“You think I was bloody happy about it?” Fred chuckled, the tip of his fingers tracing shapes into your skin. “I’d much rather be here, with you.” At that, you relaxed completely, understanding that you had gotten too far into your own head. “It’s my favorite place to be. Always has been.”

“Mine too, Fred.” You hummed, smiling softly at the thought.

“I reckon I was a bit jealous, ‘specially at the thought of you and George spending so much time with each other. Would rather it be me, you know, sitting at the shop and laughing with you all night… taking you out for dinner… loving you.” Another gentle kiss was placed to your chest, just before he looked up to meet your eyes. The soft, warm, familiar sight made you feel at ease. He was back to being your Fred, the one you missed all along.

“Darling, you have nothing to be jealous about.” You promised, smiling as he placed a quick peck on your lips. “Though, if it means we get to have brilliant sex like that, by all means do what you have to do.” You explained. “Bloody brilliant, at that.” Without any further words, the two of you descended into a fit of laughter and the clouds that previously hung above your head seemingly cleared in an instant, easily proving to him there was really never a need to worry at all.

[bisexual-biohazard5]

Just some random scenario I thought of. What if Fred didn't die and Percy didn't reconnect with the family?

Percy was sitting by the fireplace, enveloped in it's warmth when he felt someone tap his shoulder. He turned to see Fred and George looking sheepish and a pleading glint in their eyes.

Fred first spoke, "Say Percy, how good at you with- uhh... legal things?" There was a slight uneasy and stressed look in their body language.

Percy paused as the worst case scenarios came into his head, "Who got arrested?!"

The twins looked surprised and shared an amused loom before explaining, this time George spoke, "No no. No one's arrested. We just-...need help with laws...and legal registration..."

Laws and legel registrations? Oh yeah, the joke shop the twins were trying to set up. Percy relaxed for a second, glaring at them for scraing him, though it was mostly payful. Of course they didn't know anything about the law system and the documents they needed to sign. Percy sighed and sat down with them.

Over the next few hours, he went through the things they needed, making a list of the documents and laws they needed to research and the process on how to get a permit.

Occassionally, Molly would pop in and they would pretend to playfully bicker and continue working when she left. The twins would never admit it at the time but they were afraid that their mother would be disappointed at them for planning to drop out of school and starting their own business. What if they failed? What if it didn't work? But through their stress and anxiety, Percy stayed there for them and offered reassurance and help.

Then came the arguement and Percy left, he packed his things and cut all ties. He was gone.

They couldn't see it at the time but it wasn't just his fault. It was their parents fault for not approaching the arguement with a calm behaviour. It was their fault for leaving Percy out and it was Percy's fault for not reaching out. They were all in the fault. None of them were innocent. In the heat of their moment, all they could think of was themselves as emotions flooded their senses and blinded their logic.

Years later, George and Fred remembered those moments, how the stress and worry lifted from their shoulders as Percy guided them through everything. They owned Percy one for that. But now, Percy wasn't there. He hadn't reconnected after the war but they still remembered him as their joke shop became successful and their products gained attraction. They really should talk to him one day and set their problems aside. One day, hopefully.

[winn-wynn]

Percy Weasley au but he got Tom riddle’s diary

[amethystandemma]

“Times Are Changing”

Angst! Angst! Angst!

FrostValley on Wattpad requested a Glasswood one-shot, and y’all voted for it to be angsty. So, here it is.

Tagging @rypnami and @butternutt613

Word count: 2,600+

Comments and reblogs are appreciated

“That match was brilliant!” shouted Radiant Glasspetal.

She and Oliver Wood made their way down the purple-carpeted stairs of the stadium, walking slowly through the crowd of Quidditch fans. Ireland had just won the Quidditch World Cup in an incredibly tense match against Bulgaria and the excitement in the air was getting to everyone.

As the couple walked along the dirt path with the sea of people, leprechauns danced above their heads, cackling and waving the lanterns illuminating the area. Trying to see everything, Radiant’s head constantly swiveled from side to side, her red ponytail smacking any and all nearby objects.

“Aye.” Oliver ducked to avoid his girlfriend’s whip-like hair. “Pure dead brilliant.”

As they moved, the duo talked non-stop about the match they had just witnessed; Oliver consistently bringing up how skilled both Keepers were and Radiant emphasizing how flawlessly the Irish Chasers worked together. 

Troy, Mullet, and Moran, Ireland’s Chasers, passed the Quaffle from one another like a well-oiled machine during the match. The trio scored point after point as if it was absolutely nothing. They gave Radiant so many ideas that she had to try with Angelina Johnson and Katie Bell, her fellow Gryffindor Chasers.

Radiant and Oliver were so engrossed in their conversation that they didn’t notice a figure struggling to get to them until she was right there.

“All I’m saying is that we have a lot to – ah!” Radiant was cut off mid sentence by someone wrapping arms around her neck in a hug. She got a mouthful of brown curls as she tried to speak. “Hadlee, I was in the middle of a conversation!”

Hadlee Euphoric, a Hufflepuff sixth year, pulled away from Radiant with a small grin. While some Quidditch fans, like Oliver and Radiant, simply wore sweaters or hats supporting the Ireland team, there were others like Hadlee who went a little farther. Her normally tan face was painted a dark evergreen, making the girl look like some sort of strange nymph. 

“Ced and I are having a campfire,” said Hadlee. Her silver eyes glistened in the torchlight of the leprechauns, making her look even more inhuman than she already did. “You want to come?”

Even though it was incredibly late, Radiant didn’t feel at all tired. She imagined she wouldn’t be able to fall asleep even if she went to bed right at that moment, and guessed Oliver felt the same based on how vigorously he was speaking before. 

“I’m fine with it.” answered Radiant.

“So’m I,” Oliver added. “Lead the way.”

As Hadlee led the two through the large crowd of people, Radiant would catch bits and pieces of conversations from the groups around them. Some talked about the skills of the players, others mentioned Viktor Krum’s nosebleed, but almost everyone was talking about Quidditch. 

As the three brushed through the mob of Quidditch fans, Radiant caught the fragments of a conversation that she didn’t quite understand.

“–strike at three.”

Something about the way the three words were spoken sent a chill down her spine. Radiant craned her neck to look around the crowd and find the speaker, but it was just no use. There were just too many people and too many voices.

The rational part of her brain told her that she was fine. She didn’t catch the full conversation and making baseless assumptions based on three words was a waste of time. 

A few minutes later, they arrived at the Diggory family’s tent. Cedric Diggory, another sixth year Hufflepuff, sat outside of the tent in a lawn chair facing a small bonfire. He got to his feet, waving at Radiant and Oliver with a large smile on his face. On one of his cheeks was a green shamrock the same color as Hadlee’s painted face.

“Wood. Glasspetal,” he greeted. “Glad you could come.”

The lingering thoughts Radiant had about the conversation she overheard melted away as soon as her eyes landed on the mug of hot chocolate in his hands. It looked and smelled absolutely delicious. 

“You’re welcome to have some,” Hadlee said, seeing Radiant’s gaze. 

“Don’t mind if I do.”

Oliver chuckled as Radiant walked to the canister containing the drink before turning to Cedric. “I’m surprised Hadlee was able to find us.” 

“Well, the thing about Hufflepuffs” – he took a sip of hot chocolate – “is that we are very good finders.”

“You’re also very good at losing Quidditch matches.”

“Shut up.”

As the four sat by the campfire they continued the conversation about the Quidditch match. The cheering of Ireland fans never ceased, even after the midnight hour.

The warmth coming from the fire and the gentle pressure of Oliver’s head on her legs filled Radiant with bliss. Her fingers ran through his short brown hair over and over again.

Radiant didn’t remember falling asleep. All she knew was that, very suddenly, Oliver was shaking her awake.

“Get up! Radiant, come on!”

Radiant sat up quickly, banging her forehead against his.

“Sorry.” she apologized groggily.

As she rubbed her forehead, she was startled by the change in noises around the campsite. Rather than drunken singing, she heard screams and the sound of people running. Something was very, very wrong.

With no explanation, Oliver grabbed her wrist and started to run. The first few paces, Radiant stumbled and tripped before finding her footing. She looked down at the wrist that held her own, squinting at his watch.

3:07.

Strike at three.

“You need to get to the woods,” said Oliver. “Hide.”

“Surely you jest!” Radiant planted her feet on the dirt and pulled him back, bringing them face to face. “I’m not leaving you.”

Oliver began to protest. “Radiant–”

“This isn’t up for discussion,” Radiant snapped. She drew her elm wand out from one of her jean pockets. “Come on.”

Whether it was the look of determination on her face or the lack of time needed to argue, Oliver drew out his olive wand without a word of protest. 

With a tight grip on his hand, Radiant started to run against the stream of screaming people. They were all fleeing from something, a thing that made loud bangs, but what it was she didn’t know.

Drunken yells, loud jeering, and roars of laughter were drifting towards them; before a burst of strong green light clearly illuminated the scene. 

A large number of wizards, their wands pointing straight up, were slowly moving in a tightly packed formation across the field. Their heads were covered by hoods and faces hidden behind masks. High above them, floating about sixty feet in the midair, were four struggling figures moving in extremely unnatural and distorted ways. 

Radiant froze, her mouth open wide in horror, as she realized two of the figures were children. One of the kids, a little girl, made eye contact with her, tears and snot streaming down her face.

Seeing the fear in her eyes is what broke Radiant out of her stunned stupor. It filled her with rage.

“Diffindo!” Radiant yelled, right as Oliver shouted “Bombarda!”

Her severing charm hit a few of the figures while his blasting spell hit one, sending them flying backwards in the air.

“We’re going to help the Ministry!” Radiant heard her Uncle, Arthur Weasley, yell behind her. “You lot — get into the woods, and stick together. I’ll come and fetch you when we’ve sorted this out!”

Three of her cousins: Bill, Charlie, and Percy Weasley sprinted up to her and Oliver, their wands out and sleeves rolled up. A few moments later, her Uncle Arthur joined them. All four of the Weasley men had matching looks of disgust and anger on their faces.

“We need to get through to the center!” Bill yelled. 

“No shite!” Radiant shouted. “Protego!”

The semi-transparent shield charm deflected a burst of red energy right before it hit the group. Oliver, Bill, Charlie, Percy, and Arthur threw up their own as multiple blasts started to fall on them like rain.

“We can’t do anything that might end up hurting the muggles!” called out Arthur, his voice strained and barely audible against all the roar of the spells hitting the group.

Other Ministry of Magic wizards joined the six, trying to combat the large crowd, but there were simply too many. They were largely outnumbered.

Radiant’s grip on Oliver’s hand tightened as she fought against hex after hex. She could feel her anxiety start to rise, but forced herself to keep moving. Every second counted. One misstep, and someone could die.

Okay, she really needed to stop thinking like that.

“Radiance, Charlie, and Wood could fly up and grab the muggles!” suggested Percy, jumping to the side to avoid the lime green blast of an Unforgivable Curse.

“Perce, we were roommates for seven years ya crabbit. I’m pretty sure you can call me Oliver at this point.” Oliver raised his wand. “Depulso!”

“And you know I hate it when you call me by my full name!” Radiant added.

“Just shut up and get your brooms! Protego!”

Considering she had no better plan, Radiant decided to listen to Percy. While under his protection, she raised her wand, not for a curse but for a summoning charm. “Accio broom!” she shouted.

The lanterns that had illuminated the campground had been put out amidst the chaos, but Radiant could make out a sleek black shape making its way over through the darkness very fast. Her Nimbus 2000 flew into her outstretched hand.

Moving quickly, Radiant mounted her broom. She glanced over at Oliver, who was on his own broom, and tried to ignore the sense of dread that was flooding over her.

“We’ll distract them for you!” hollard Arthur. “Just be ready to grab the muggles!”

Gripping onto her broom handle with one hand and wand with the other, Radiant kicked off the ground and quickly rose to the air in a streak of red and green.

As soon as she, Charlie, and Oliver were in the air, Arthur and Percy raised their wands to the sky while Bill kept up the shield charm. “Periculum!” she heard them shout.

Red sparks descended onto the dark wizards like muggle fireworks. The Imperius Curse that was holding the victims in the air was suddenly lifted, leaving the family of four floating in the air for a second before they started to free fall.

Radiant pointed her broom down and flew after one of the muggles, the little girl she first saw. She wrapped her left arm around her, hoisting her onto her shoulder in a fireman’s carry before pulling up on the handle. Right before they were going to crash, the Nimbus 2000 arched up above the ground and back into the sky.

Moving slowly and gently, Radiant adjusted the young girl so she was sitting on the broom as well. Tears and snot were still going down her round face.

“It’s going to be okay,” said Radiant in a soothing voice. “You’re going to be okay.”

“Crucio!”

Radiant yanked her broom to the side, narrowly missing the curse directed at her. It seemed like the dark wizards had recovered from the chaos enough to start shooting things again.

“Hold on tight!”

She slipped her wand into her back pocket so she could hold onto the girl with both hands before quickly guiding the broom away. Blasts of green and red alike followed her across the sky. She couldn’t see anything with all the smoke around them, so she could only hope it was the same for everyone below her.

Charlie flew past her, holding the two unconscious muggle adults with each arm. Aside from being knocked out, they looked fine. As did Charlie, except for the rip in his shirt.

“Come on, we need to get them somewhere safe,” he said.

Weaving past curses and hexes, Charlie led Radiant away from the smoke and down in a nearby clearing where three figures sat. Fred, George, and Ginny Weasley looked up as the two landed, gawping at the muggles. 

“Watch them until me, Dad, Bill, or Perce come back for you and stay here,” Charlie ordered.

Radiant picked up the little girl and handed her shaking body over to Fred.

“Don’t worry,” she said to her. “Come morning, you won’t remember any of this.”

She kicked off the ground again, flying back to the area where the dark wizards were beforehand to look for Oliver.

Radiant heard him cry out in pain before she saw him.

The smouldering mess that used to be his broom burned like kindling in a campfire. A few feet away from the broom was Oliver, on the ground in front of the little boy, getting hit with the Cruciatus Curse.

A similar rage to seeing the tortured girl filled Radiant’s body, and she saw red.

“BOMBARDA!” Radiant screamed.

The explosion went off in the middle of where the dark wizards stood, sending both them and dirt flying everywhere. She jumped off of her broom, landing in front of her boyfriend with her wand raised.

“EXPELLIARMUS! CONFRINGO! FLIPENDO! INCENDIO!”

Radiant casted wave after wave of spell with such force and veracity she never had before. She knew that if she wanted to, she would be able to cast an Unforgivable Curse in that very moment.

“ACCIO! DESCENDO! GLACIUS! DIFFINDO-”

“Radiant, stop!”

Arthur Weasley rushed towards his niece, holding his own wand in the air in surrender when she pointed hers at him. 

“Radiant, they’ve fallen. They aren’t hurting him anymore.”

All of the anger she felt rushed out of her body like a deflated balloon. All ten of the dark wizards that had been there were on the ground with injuries she caused. A few of them were even moaning out in pain.

“Oh Merlin.” gasped Radiant. “What have I done?”

“Radiant?”

She looked down at the ground at Oliver before kneeling down beside him. He raised his hand, weakly pressing it against her cheek.

“Bloody hell,” he rasped. “Remind me not to get on your bad side.”

Radiant placed her hand over his bloodied one, pressing it closer to her face. She tried to even her breathing by taking deep breaths through her nose.

“You could never get on my bad side. You’re a Keeper.” said Radiant.

“Ha ha. I haven’t heard that before.”

She snorted and moved his arm around her shoulder, helping him stand up; her other arm moving to his waist.

Supporting each other, Radiant and Oliver stumbled over to Bill and Percy with Arthur. Bill had a cut on his arm that was bleeding profusely and Percy was sporting a bleeding nose.

The sound of loud gasping and cries brought their movement to a halt. Loud popping filled the clearing seconds after, a sign that people were Disapparating.

Arthur Weasley looked behind the group up at the sky, his eyes wide, before Disapparating himself.

Turning, Radiant looked to the place in the sky where Arthur was looking. She let out a gasp herself.

High above the trees of the nearby forest was a massive skull, made of what looked like millions of green stars, with a serpent going out of its mouth like a tongue. As they watched, it went higher and higher. 

All of the clearing erupted in screams. Radiant didn’t fully understand why, as it was just a skull, but she figured it was because of the sudden appearance of it. 

It wasn’t until she saw Bill’s bloodless face that she realized that wasn’t the reasoning.

“What is it?” Oliver asked.

Bill shook his head.

“You were all too young,” he muttered. “None of you would remember it–”

“Just tell us!” Radiant snapped.

Her own tone surprised her, as Bill was her favorite cousin, but she was tired and irritated with being in the dark about things.

“It’s Dark Mark.” Percy’s voice was barely audible. “You-Know-Who’s sign. I read about it in the Ministry.”

The four were silent. The only noise came from the screaming and panicked cries of the witches and wizards around them.

It was a few moments before Oliver broke the silence, his voice soft.

“What does it mean?” 

Silence. 

Then, Bill spoke. “It means things are going to be changing around here.” 

__________

Wattpad - Ao3

[bonniesfamiliar]

"You were just a child. It wasn't your fault," Applies to all those children who were forced to save the world at such a young age.

[347-emeraldbitch]

Fred: You better sleep with one eye open Perc-

Percy: You think I can sleep? At night my thoughts whisper my insecurities back into my skull, the stars scream my fears as they burn light years away, the rising sun mocks my melancholy. I know no peace.

George: Oh my fucking god……

[shrekgogurt]

I have a lot of words written for Chapter 15 of that behemoth in the making I Knew A Boy, I Knew A Man and only some of them are good. Here are a few of those select ‘good words.’

Simon POV, past (age fifteen):

“You’re out of uniform,” Premal announces, flashing his prefect badge at Penny and me like a fucking copper.

Cachu hwch. (Pig’s shit.) (Total fucking disaster.)

We’ve been caught out.

And it’s not even our fault.

I woke up this morning and realised all my socks were gone—stolen by Baz’s psychotic aunt, no doubt. She was glaring at me like I pissed in a great Pitch family heirloom when she dropped him off yesterday. (And it was her.) (I’m convinced.) (Because Baz once told me he would rather saw his arm off with a rusty piece of barbed wire than touch any of my “chavvy accouterments.”) (So...) Anyway, Penny shirked her own socks at breakfast in solidarity and together we’ve managed to hide our bare ankles from even the most militant professors. But we forgot Premal was on the prowl, drunk off his new power and the opportunity to wield it over his siblings.

Penny crosses her arms in defiance. “We’re not even in your year.”

“You don’t need to be. I’m authorised by The Headmistress to distribute demerits to anyone who violates school policy.”

“Listen to yourself!” Penny’s arms flail as she yells. “The Headmistress? She gave birth to you! Call her mum, you prat!”

Bah humbug! Editing!? I have to do it!? And also still finish the last bit of the rough draft??? Boo! But, writing in a notebook has been great for speed if not a bit of a downgrade in initial quality.

Thanks for the tags! @alexalexinii @artsyunderstudy @monbons @prettygoododds @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @mooncello @blackberrysummerblog

Now tagging! @bookish-bogwitch @brilla-brilla-estrellita @captain-aralias @cutestkilla @ebbpettier @emeryhall @excalisbury @facewithoutheart @fatalfangirl @hagnoart @iamamythologicalcreature @ileadacharmedlife @ineffable-grimm-pitch @ivelovedhimthroughworse @j-nipper-95 @larkral @letraspal @martsonmars @messofthejess @mitranian @nightimedreamersworld @ninemagicks @noblecorgi @onepintobean @orange-peony @palimpsessed @raenestee @rimeswithpurple @roomwithanopenfire @theearlgreymage @theimpossibledemon @thewholelemon @urban-sith @valeffelees @whogaveyoupermission @yellobb @youarenevertooold

[fabulous-fic-quotes]

His big brother wondered why they loved him for Pete's sake. And, he thought bitterly, they hadn't really given him any reason to believe that they loved him. And he felt even more miserable. And he hated that even more.

Percy had asked why they loved him. And it was breaking everyone’s hearts.

And Fred suddenly exclaimed:

"Because you're our brother. Of course we love you."

And Percy just blew:

"Oh".

But everyone, Fred and George probably more than anyone else, hated Percy's tone. As if he just realised now that his family loved him.

And suddenly, as if Percy hadn't already broken enough their hearts, he whispered:

"But then why you don't like me?"

Their mother choked back a sob, and their father murmured weakly:

"Oh Percy."

But Percy didn't seem to realise the emotional turmoil he was causing his family:

"Is it because I failed? Because I hate myself for it too".

And if Percy had turned round and cast a Cruciatus spell on them, it wouldn't have hurt so much.

Head down 'til the work is done - PrincessAngst

[perciver4ever]

I knew my heart couldn't take angst and yet I still read it. Now I'm internally sobbing because of a fanfic where Percy and Oliver attends Cedric's funeral.

[mirrorofliterature]

a promise that could not be kept

Cedric Diggory, speaking to his friends after successfully entering the Tournament, circa November 1994: “Sure, Dumbledore and the ministry can be a little reckless at times, but Percy is involved, and I trust him.”

Lord Voldemort who specialises in killing young people with bright futures, circa June 1995: “Kill the spare.”

.

Oliver Wood did not think that he would be attending a funeral this summer, but here he is, dressed in midnight black robes underneath the glare of the sun.

If he had seen a funeral in his future, it would not have been this one. One for a peer, a friend, someone barely past the cusp of adulthood. 

Yet here he is, standing straight in thick, uncomfortable robes as they say their final goodbyes to Cedric Diggory.

Where did things go wrong?

.

Alternatively: Percy & Cedric's friendship, explored from the perspective of Oliver during Cedric's funeral. Read on AO3.

[siobhanhazel]

The Risk of Falling || [Teen] 19,000 words Year 4. Draco chooses between keeping his feet on the path he's expected to walk or flying towards the life he longs to live, but risk falling. [link to fic] #Draco-centric #Drarry epilogue #Draco & Viktor Krum #Viktor Krum/Percy Weasley ***

Deep in the quiet loneliness of night, Draco lay awake, unable to shake thoughts of his wooden box. Peering around the dark dorm room, he noted that the hangings around the other boy’s beds were drawn.

Draco slipped off his bed, crept to his trunk, and dug through it. Returning to the safety of his sheets, he only opened the box after tightly cinching the green velvet curtains. Safely inside, he retrieved the thick envelope. Cold unease washed over him as he examined its contents.

Draco’s carefully selected collection of magical photographs flickered, animated under the orb of Lumos. It had been so enjoyable to choose and clip them. He couldn't recall when he began clandestinely sliding them away inside this mislabelled envelope. That very act rendered the photos so incriminating.

The wisest decision would be to vanish the lot without hesitation and resist any future temptation to collect more photos. Frustratingly, Draco was tempted to take one last look. Carving the images into his mind before burning them was simply the most rational course of action.

He carefully splayed the paper clippings over his bedspread. Most were from Quidditch Quarterly and other sports magazines. There were some images he had magically duplicated from books and a few clipped from the Prophet.

Nevertheless, weeks after Draco began hiding them, he dimly realised every athlete was a man, despite the even gender mix represented in the league. Both wizards and witches received even coverage in Quidditch Quarterly, after all.

Handsome, dark-haired wizards with carefree postures smiled up at him. Some were shots taken post-game when they were sweaty and had peeled off their outer robes. Wizards grinned at him in the haze of post-victory euphoria, sipping from water bottles and glancing at the camera. Friendly blokes posed with their brooms for interview scoops.

Although Krum was his favourite player (everyone’s favourite, surely), Draco hadn’t clipped many photos of the Bulgarian Seeker. The only one from a magazine was a shot with his arm around Todorov, the star Chaser of their national team. As he admired the photo, he abruptly realised he'd been captivated by the friendly, blue-green eyes of the Chaser fellow, not Krum’s stoic sharpness.

The more recent clippings were from the Prophet: the ones from the Triwizard articles. There were a dozen photos showing combinations of Krum, Diggory, Potter and Delacour. He kept the individual portraits of the three boys but had overlooked saving the Veela girls’. His jaw tightened with the weight of realisation. It was vital that he dispose of the whole collection.

Except…

Hesitancy enveloped him as he stared at a solo photo of Harry, shuffling and smiling awkwardly up at him. It was printed large and in colour, typical for coverage of the Boy Who Lived.

Printed in muted forest ink, these green eyes were nowhere near as dazzling as the real thing. Draco was caught for a long minute before he lost all heart. Groaning, he swept the other photos into a neat pile and slipped them safely inside the envelope.

He continued clutching the photo of Harry, staring a while longer. It was utterly ridiculous, but stinging anger was roiling in his stomach. This wasn’t fair. What he felt wasn’t fair. Draco’s fingers numbed from the intensity of grasping the paper.

Draco sighed, his chest bursting with pent-up emotion. Frustration was the only feeling he dared give a name to. (continue reading The Risk of Falling on AO3)

(img sources via Unsplash creative commons: model)

[isaacarellanesismyhusband]

‼️please someone request something about anyone, i wanna write and have 0 ideas😩🫀

[winn-wynn]

Trick or Treat!

Hello! Hi !!! :)

Here’s another angsty lil thing I have

Oliver looks radient in the moonlight, riding his broomstick and being in his element of flight, nothing holding him back while he’s in the air.

Percy looked up at him, then down at where he stood off field. Percy made a decision right then and there. He wouldn’t be the one who chained him down, and held him back. He wouldn’t be the one to anchor him down and clip his wings.

Oliver deserves to fly, and be free. Not bounded to Percy.

What could a flightless man like Percy do help him soar and reach new heights when he was too afraid to make the leap?

[girlyteengirl1031]

I am actually a writer as of 2 hours ago! Gone are the days where I refresh the pages of the same 2 tags every 6 hours. Fuck it, I’ll do it myself