#say 'git bash' out loud with your mouth. tell me what git bash is. then tell me what cloning does. tell me what repo is short for.

[wovenstarlight]

signed up for a workshop on a web development thing i wanted to learn about but now that im here its so painfully obvious these people don't have the slightest idea how to teach

[wondernimbus]

two sworn enemies — draco malfoy

pairing: draco malfoy x female!reader

summary: there is only one thing worse than being hated by draco malfoy; it’s being fancied by him.

requests are closed for now! please refrain from plagiarizing my work.

After being on the receiving end of Malfoy's torment for four whole years at Hogwarts—a place where she's supposed to be making friends and learning and making the most out of all her youthful years—[Y/N] is beginning to grow tired.

The last thing she’s supposed to be worrying about is a snarky Slytherin boy who always has some sort of rude remark resting on his lips every time he comes across her in the corridors. Or anywhere, for that matter—Draco Malfoy's incessant jest seems to stay within no boundaries.

Eleven-year-old [Y/N] used to be fazed by it; she used to cry herself to sleep every time the platinum blond would push past her in the hallway, yelling out something offensive on his way, usually to do with her friendship with blood-traitors and the "big-headed" Harry Potter (or so Malfoy referred to him). She used to feel angry—angry enough to want to whip her wand out at him and hex him into oblivion every time he'd even as much as lay eyes on her. But the more Malfoy tried to bother her, the more it didn't anymore.

Fourth year wasn't so bad. Malfoy had already called her about a hundred nasty names at that point and was running out of them—his creativity was dwindling and [Y/N]'s concern along with it. She'd even laughed at him, one time during Transfiguration class—genuinely laughed, not out of frustration or anger but because she found something that he said to her funny.

"How does it feel being surrounded by blood-traitors and Mudbloods, [Y/L/N]? Pity you chose the wrong crowd to hang around."

"How did it feel to get punched by a girl, Malfoy? I hear Hermione packs quite a punch."

Malfoy’s nose had wrinkled into his signature sneer before he scoffed. "Tell Granger she can improve her right hook." At which point [Y/N] had snorted out a laugh—and yes, it wasn't a full-blown burst of chortles, but it was a laugh nonetheless.

Fifth year rolls around and Draco Malfoy is the least of [Y/N]'s worries. She's gotten over his nagging at this point; all his jabs have lost a bit, if not all of their luster.

But then a week after classes have started, Malfoy starts acting—weird. Very weird. [Y/N] has no idea what's gotten into him, but Draco's cruel insults seem to have veered off course and taken a very dramatic turn. He still yells at her in the hallways, but not to make some harmful jibe [Y/N] has heard thousands of times before. Instead Draco—yes, Draco Malfoy, the same boy who has never once failed to torment her in the past years they've known each other—has now made it a habit to yell pick-up lines. At her. At [Y/N]. At the same girl he's been bad-mouthing for the past four years.

The first time it happens, [Y/N] can't believe her ears. She thinks he's yelling at someone else other than her, because there is no way bloody Draco Malfoy is shouting "DO YOU PLAY QUIDDITCH? BECAUSE YOU SEEM LIKE A KEEPER" at her from halfway across the Great Hall.

But he's definitely staring at her, grinning widely in that conceited sort of way that [Y/N] has always despised.

"Is he talking to me?" [Y/N] asks Hermione, bewildered.

"Looks like it." Hermione looks just as surprised as her. "Knowing Malfoy, he's not up to anything good. Ignore him, [Y/N]."

But ignoring Draco Malfoy is not something [Y/N] is capable of; the feistiness in her makes sure of that. So instead of moving on and turning a blind eye, she cups her hands over her mouth and yells, just as loud, "ARE YOU A BLUDGER? BECAUSE I'D LOVE TO BASH A BEATER'S BAT INTO YOUR—"

Whatever Malfoy is up to, [Y/N] isn't entirely sure she's enjoying it. The next afternoon—also in the Great Hall, while [Y/N] is doing her homework instead of eating lunch (because Snape apparently thinks it's a good idea to ask for a four-page essay when the school year has barely even started), there's a thump and [Y/N] looks up to see that there's a little red envelope sitting on her empty plate. Looking even further up, she sees an owl flying away from the table and out of the roof of the Great Hall, where the owls always come from to deliver letters—although that only happens at breakfast. Which means this is from someone else, likely another student.

[Y/N] stares.

"It's a Howler," Harry says from next to her, like she doesn't already know.

"I'm aware," she mutters, narrowing her eyes at it before she sets down her quill to grab it.

"Who would send you a Howler?" Ron has looked up from where he'd been shoveling beans into his plate. He crowds into her space, peering at the envelope she now holds in her hands; and she can't really answer him, because only her name is scribbled across the front in handwriting she doesn't recognize. Whoever sent it to her didn't bother with writing their own name.

She hesitates, brows furrowed as she, too, wonders where it's from. Her parents don't have a reason to send her a Howler—unless she's done something wrong that she isn't aware of. But it's only been a week since school has started and as far as she can tell, she hasn't done anything worthy of being sent a Howler. Or at least not yet.

"Might as well," she sighs—it's going to deliver its message one way or the other, anyway, and [Y/N] prefers to open it herself than have it burst into flames, rain ashes down upon her homework, and then start talking—so she opens the envelope.

The Howler jumps to life in front of her, hovering in front of her face, and [Y/N] has never seen a piece of stationery look so angry before. A forked tongue slips out of the envelope—[Y/N] braces herself for the worst, despite not knowing who on earth might have sent it—until a familiar voice booms around the Great Hall.

"ARE YOU A BASILISK? BECAUSE WHEN I SAW YOU, I FROZE."

Ron's shoulders automatically start shaking with laughter. Most of the Great Hall—or at least the ones close enough to hear the Howler—have turned around to watch the spectacle unfold, giggling behind their palms and pointing at [Y/N] like she can't see them. [Y/N], in the meantime, stares, completely dead to the world and everything else around her, because she knows that voice.

But then the Howler keeps talking. "IF YOU LET ME TAKE YOU ON A DATE, I CAN PROMISE YOU THINGS THOSE FILTHY PEASANTS CAN NEVER GIVE YOU."

The entire hall has fallen completely silent. [Y/N] feels her face burning up, but not with embarrassment—[Y/N] is angry. She feels it thrumming in her veins, curling around her lungs, clouding all of her senses.

With a single flick of [Y/N]'s wand, the Howler bursts into flames with a final feeble wheeze of I'm also a fairly good snogger. Ron is roaring with laughter and Harry has also joined in. Two-faced gits.

[Y/N] slams her palms down on the table and vaguely even registers the pain this gives her as she steps out from behind the bench and turns around to face the Slytherin table because of course she knows who sent the Howler. Of course she knows who would go out of his way to humiliate her in front of the entirety of Hogwarts, because that extremely irritating, maddeningly haughty voice can only belong to one person—and sure enough, the idiot in question is standing there on top of the benches, arms outstretched towards her and that proud, snooty look on his face like he expects her to actually be impressed.

Over Ron and Harry's laughter, [Y/N] shouts angrily, "Malfoy!"

Malfoy drops his arms to his sides, hops off the bench, and swaggers towards her. She meets him halfway—and when she does, she doesn't hesitate to shove him angrily by the shoulders. He stumbles back a little, but he's still grinning annoyingly wide. "Have you come to me bearing an answer?" he says, his tone mocking, and [Y/N] just barely suppresses herself from whipping out her wand and jabbing it somewhere she wouldn't want a wand anywhere near. They are still surrounded by teachers. "I imagine it's a yes—who would turn me down, after all—"

"Drop the fucking act," she hisses; all eyes are on them, because Hogwarts never passes up a chance for gossip, and this might be the most exciting one yet. Draco Malfoy publicly asking out the girl everyone knows he's hated, and has hated him, for a long time—what a spectacle. But [Y/N] knows that his intentions are far from genuine; this is just another way to humiliate her and get on her nerves. And as much as she hates to admit it, it's a pretty good fucking move, because she hasn't been this annoyed by him in a long time.

Her teeth are gritted together so hard her words barely come out coherent. "I don't know what you're playing at," she practically growls, taking a step closer to get in his face, "But I encourage you to get yourself together."

But Malfoy seems unaffected. "Pity you didn't let the Howler finish," he drawls, still with that same smirk on his lips as he wriggles his brows suggestively. "I could've told you more about my superior snogging skills."

"Which is exactly why I didn't," she fumes. "We're in the middle of lunch—any more of you talking about your 'superior snogging skills' and the entirety of this hall would've thrown up on themselves. I know I would've."

At this, the smile on Malfoy's face droops a little, a ghost of his familiar sneer seeping in. [Y/N] takes a step back away from him, because she can't stand being more than a few feet near the prat. "You've got a lot of nerve, pulling this," she scoffs. "Try it again and you'll regret it. Now excuse me while I go do my bloody homework."

And then she turns around, goes back to the Gryffindor table, and does her bloody homework.

—

But Malfoy, as it turns out, isn't as weak-willed as he lets on. She's started receiving Howlers every morning at breakfast, all of which burst into flames every time to rain ashes upon her innocent plate of eggs and toast, but only after loudly blurting out some ridiculously bad pick-up line. It's been four days since the first Howler and they've only gotten progressively worse ever since—"you must be a Boggart because I'm terrified of pretty women"—and [Y/N] is beginning to grow so very tired.

Today, she hexes him in the middle of the hallway just as he's coming out of Potions class. She had warned him, all those days ago, that he'd regret it if he didn't let up. So [Y/N] watches, terribly amused as Draco starts wailing in the corridor, his hands splayed over his face in a measly attempt to cover the sardines falling out of his nostrils. It's an irreversible hex—or at least for eight hours—but until then, Draco will have to deal with the tiny fishes that shoot out of his nose at random intervals. [Y/N] can't bring herself to feel bad, not when he's humiliated her time and time again in front of so many people.

No Howlers arrive the morning after. There's a sense of what feels like disappointment coming off of the Great Hall; some people have actually turned around in their seats to watch her in anticipation for an owl to come swooping down upon her bearing a red envelope. Unfortunately for them, it doesn't happen. [Y/N], meanwhile, is finally at peace.

Or at least until Ron jabs her in the side and goes, "So are you?" he's grinning. "A Boggart, I mean."

It's a reference to the Howler she received yesterday. Her movements are dangerously swift; immediately she smacks the back of his head, sending him into a complaining frenzy. She rolls her eyes. "Stupid Malfoy."

"As much as I hate to say this," Harry begins, "I kind of wish you hadn't hexed him into stopping. His pick-up lines were pretty funny."

"Ha!" [Y/N] points a finger at Harry and nods approvingly, laughing a little. "That's a good one, Harry."

Harry stares at her dead in the eye. "Oh, I wasn't joking."

Her face falls.

"I suppose being on the receiving end of Malfoy's affection isn't any better than being hated by him," says Hermione, offering [Y/N] a sympathetic smile. "It's a good thing you showed him not to mess with you any further, [Y/N]."

[Y/N] tries for a smile of her own, but it comes out all stiff and crooked. "I feel like the past few days have been a fever dream," she says, shuddering. "This new form of—bullying, I don't know—has just been so weird. The bad names I've gotten used to, but—the compliments? The pick-up lines?"

"D'you think he's gone off his rocker?" Ron suggests.

"Maybe he fancies you," says Hermione off-handedly.

The effect this has on the three is instantaneous; Ron, Harry, and [Y/N] simultaneously blanch as though they've all swallowed something sour at the same time. Ron is choking on a piece of toast and Harry has spit water everywhere.

"Absolutely not," [Y/N] is shaking her head, nose wrinkled in distaste. "He can't possibly—that's ridiculous. We've hated each other for years."

"Feelings do change," Hermione shrugs, rolling her eyes at Ron and Harry, who have yet to recover from their initial shock. "And besides, it was just a suggestion. Although I don't see why he'd go out of his way to send you Howlers repeatedly asking you out if he doesn't fancy you."

"Because he wants to humiliate me in front of everyone!"

"Oh, alright, alright," Hermione sighs, sensing her defeat. "But you never know."

Ron has gathered his bearings once more. He turns to Hermione, genuine concern flooding his features, and blubbers, "Did I hear you right? Malfoy—fancying [Y/N]?"

"Yes, Ronald." Another eye-roll. "It's not that outlandish. Boys are boys—even Malfoy."

"Merlin's beard," he slumps down in his seat, shaking his head. "I don't think I've ever been this surprised. Not since I heard that Percy managed to score himself a girlfriend, and that was three years ago."

A few days pass, and while no more Howlers arrive, Malfoy is still as insistent as ever in his attempts to "woo" her—or, well, whatever it is he's trying to do. [Y/N] doesn’t quite know what to call it anymore; for some reason, it no longer feels like an attempt to bully or humiliate her. It's not as though he's insulting her, and it's not like her reputation is in any way being lessened. In fact, most of Hogwarts, it seems, enjoys the so-called "love-hate relationship" they've got going on, and expects them to get together sometime in the near future.

[Y/N] learns all of this from Fred and George, who are always a good source of gossip.

"What better love story than two sworn enemies falling in love?" George gushes, clasping his hands together.

"So romantic," Fred sings, closing his eyes and swaying his hips as though listening to a sultry tune only he can hear. “Setting aside their differences to answer the call of their hearts."

"Oh, Malfoy's still an arse, of course."

"But it's still romantic."

Part of [Y/N] wishes that the twins hadn’t told her that, because it makes it all the more confusing on her part. If, by some miracle, Malfoy does fancy her—what is she supposed to do? Ride off with him into the sunset? They are enemies—they have been for four, supposedly five years now, except this year Malfoy is being an insufferable twat who won't stop yelling pick-up lines at her in the hallways.

[Y/N] decides to turn a blind eye on him. If she ignores him for long enough, he's bound to stop.

Right?

—

Despite being a close friend to the famous Harry Potter, [Y/N] can say she’s made a name for herself at school that stretches far beyond just that girl who hangs out with the Chosen One. She’s been playing for the Gryffindor Quidditch team for two years and has contributed to some of the house’s most fantastic wins as a Chaser, and she’s also a fairly good student. She may have a penchant for trouble-making, but she knows how to limit herself. She prides herself for her work ethic and thus her grades are above average—enough for her to earn the favor of most of her teachers and for eager first-years to sometimes come up to her asking for help doing homework.

But enough for those very same first-years to come up to her in the hallway ready to do all of her biddings for the day, practically demanding her to hand over her books so that they can carry them for her? No. Certainly not. [Y/N] may have made a name for herself, but definitely not one renowned enough to earn the eleven-year-olds now crowded around her moments after she steps out of potions class, telling her that, “We’re here at your disposal! If you need us to do anything, just say the word!”

[Y/N] stares at the three children clustered around her, all wide-eyed and for some reason incredibly eager for her to start bossing them around.

Taken aback, she ushers them into a corner; the hallway is busy and people will keep bumping into them if they stay in the middle of the hallway like that.

Once away from the bustling main corridor, she bends down a little so that she’s at eye-level with all of them. “At my disposal?” she repeats, eyes narrowing playfully. “What do you mean?”

“We’re here to carry your books for you or grab you snacks from the kitchens or tie your shoelaces if you need us to!” one of them exclaims, bouncing on his toes.

Alright—this is getting ridiculous. [Y/N] pauses, lips pressed together into a thin line as she stares at each one of the first-years in turn; all three of them are staring at her as though waiting for her to start asking them to do push-ups.

She inhales. Someone must have put them up to this, because there is no way these children woke up this morning and simultaneously decided to become her servants for the day.

“Well,” she begins, smiling at them—and good grief, did she really look that young when she was eleven? “Thank you for offering to help me. I appreciate it, really—but lucky for me I’ve got some very capable arms and I think I can handle tying my shoelaces and carrying my books around and whatnot. But again—thank you. You’re all very nice.”

She pauses to look at their reactions; the smiles on their faces have drooped a little as they turn to one another, seemingly at a loss for words. “But,” the one girl says, frowning, “We’re supposed to help you.”

[Y/N] raises her eyebrows. “Supposed to?”

Someone definitely put them up to this—[Y/N] is certain of it now. And she has a good guess as to who.

She starts by saying, tone gentle, “Did someone tell you to do this? Because that’s really kind, and I’d love to thank them.”

The girl bunches up her lips in thought, shuffling her feet against the ground. “We’re not supposed to say,” she mutters, glancing at the two boys next to her nervously.

[Y/N] inhales. She needs confirmation, so she crouches down so that she’s the same height as them, and offers them all the friendliest, most trustworthy smile she can muster. The kind that wins over eleven-year-olds. “You won’t get in trouble if you tell me,” she tells them gently, and waits for them to nod in understanding before she goes, “Was it Malfoy? Draco Malfoy?”

They don’t have to respond—the looks on their faces are enough confirmation. [Y/N] suppresses the urge to roll her eyes, because of course Malfoy is the kind of person to somehow get first-years to do something like this. And she’s pretty sure it has something to do with bribery.

“Did he promise to give you anything, maybe?” [Y/N] presses on patiently.

The girl leans in and cups her hand over her mouth to whisper excitedly, “Chocolate frogs. Five for each of us.”

Ah. Of course. [Y/N] sighs inwardly and nods, standing up properly to once more tower over the tiny first-years. As much as she would love to have her own personal butlers, there is absolutely no way she is agreeing to take any part in exploiting these young kids. So she ruffles all of their hair in turn and promises to give them much, much more chocolate frogs than Malfoy will ever be able to offer if they swear to ignore him for the rest of their lives.

So she stands there in the hallway, a minute late for Transfiguration, watching the three first-years skip down the hallway, grinning excitedly to themselves—no doubt because they’ve just been promised what could be an infinite supply of chocolate frogs.

Which [Y/N] will now have to spend a lump of her summer savings on. Great. Bloody fantastic.

She didn’t think she could hate Draco Malfoy even more than she already did, but now, with the burden of buying chocolate frogs resting on her shoulders, she realizes that anything is possible.

[Y/N] finds Draco later on in the day when she’s heading to the Great Hall for dinner; as she’s passing by a window that coincidentally overlooks the Quidditch pitch, she sees him zooming around the stadium by himself, no doubt practicing to better his (in [Y/N]’s opinion) ghastly Seeker skills.

So she trudges off to the pitch, arms folded over her chest as she yells, “Malfoy!”

He notices, stops in mid-air, and immediately flies down to land in front of her, one hand on his hip and the other resting on top of his broom. That signature smirk is already on his face, mirrored by [Y/N]'s angry scowl. “Here to take me up on my offer for a date?” he grins, shaking his (sweaty, wet) hair out of his eyes. [Y/N] watches the movement, unimpressed. “Or were you just planning to watch me practice?”

She scoffs, tearing her eyes away from the way he’s running a hand through his blond hair. “Neither. I thought you were bad enough, Malfoy, but bribing first-years into doing my bidding for me? In exchange for bloody chocolate frogs?”

Malfoy’s hand pauses in carding through his hair. He drops it back to his side. “So you figured it out.”

”Why else would first-years be so eager for me to boss them around?”

”Maybe because they find you just as beautiful as I do?” he suggests, eyes glinting, the smile on his face growing even wider. [Y/N] lets out a quick breath of incredulous laughter, because is he really still keeping this act up when no one is around to see? Is he that desperate to get on her nerves?

“Just stop it, Malfoy,” she says through gritted teeth, taking a step closer to him. At this, he whistles a little, eyebrows rising, and for some reason [Y/N] tries very, very hard not to look at the sweat trickling down his forehead, the pale pink hue of his cheeks from the strain of practicing—“Please for the love of Merlin can you just drop the whole I’m-in-love-with-you act? You got what you wanted. You’ve annoyed me enough.”

Draco's nose wrinkles. “Oh, but that’s not what I wanted,” the smile on his face falters a little. ”Did you really think I did all of this just to annoy you?”

[Y/N]’s eyebrows furrow—and is that her heart skipping a beat? No. No, definitely not. Falling quiet for a few moments, she finally sniffs and says, “Why else would you go out of your way to act absolutely smitten by me?”

An echo of Hermione's voice from several days ago reverberates through her head. Maybe he fancies you.

Malfoy shrugs, his smirk falling just the tiniest bit to be replaced by a semblance of sincerity. But that can’t be. And then he says, “Maybe I fancy you,” and [Y/N]’s eyes widen.

That can’t be right. Flabbergasted, she blinks, taking a step back. This has to be some sort of joke—no, yes, that’s exactly what this is: another way to crawl under her skin and annoy the daylights out of her. She has to applaud him for his creativity.

Pinching the space between her eyes in irritation, she looks up at Malfoy, inhales, and says, deadpan, “I’m being serious.”

“I am too,” Malfoy counters, eyebrows raised innocently, and [Y/N] has never wanted to smack him more than she does now.

She lets out another incredulous laugh, because this entire situation is just so bloody ridiculous that she can’t quite wrap her head around it. Throwing her hands up in the air in frustration, she turns to him and says, “Alright—okay. Let’s say you do fancy me. I’m going to pretend for a few seconds that you do—okay?”

Draco watches her, evidently amused judging by his grin, shrugs, and nods.

“Okay,” she huffs. “If you do fancy me—why on earth would you?”

Draco opens his mouth, but she cuts him off: “We hate each other, Malfoy. We’ve hated each other since the moment you laid eyes on me and I laid eyes on you. What could have possibly changed your rotten mind?”

He rolls his eyes at this, shifting a little on where he stands. “For starters,” he begins, like he’s talking to a five-year-old, “I didn’t hate you. I disliked the fact that you hung out with the wrong sort of people.”

”The wrong sort of people,” she repeats, deadpan.

“The Weasleys. Blood traitors. Mudbloods.”

She scowls at him, brain struggling to fathom what the bloody hell he’s trying to tell her. Managing to once more plow through her confusion, she says, “Your point is?”

“I’d have asked you out long ago if only you were smarter with who you chose to befriend,” and there it is—that familiar, distasteful sneer [Y/N] hasn’t seen in a long time. “Your family’s one of the oldest wizarding families around. It’s a shame.”

She lets out another scoff of disbelief, but the first few of Draco's words have something inside of her stirring. She refuses to address it and instead says, “So—and again, I’m pretending—you fancy me because of my family?”

He lets out a little sniff. “Not what I said.”

”What is it you’re trying to say, then?”

“Blimey, how long is it going to take you to realize that I actually bloody fancy you?”

Draco has dropped all pretense of nonchalant arrogance; he’s staring at her, obviously frustrated and a little annoyed. He stops leaning on his broom and lets it drop to the ground in favor of advancing towards her until he’s mere inches away from her face.

”I fancy you,” he repeats, and it’s funny, how he says it, because declarations of love are supposed to be sweet and gentle—not scathing and angry. He’s scowling down at her, lip curling, brows drawn in together in the middle in a tight frown. “I’ve decided that I don’t care who you hang around anymore because I fancy you. Do you get it now?”

[Y/N] swallows, staring at him, momentarily frozen. Malfoy doesn’t seem as though he’s joking—and now she doesn’t know what to say. She’s never been this close to him before—close enough to see herself in the reflection of his eyes, which are a striking grey and remind her of thunderstorms brewing behind dark clouds—

She takes in a deep breath and swivels around, turning away from him. “Stop sending children to be my servants,” she says, and starts to walk away—until Malfoy grabs her wrist and forces her to look at him again.

For a moment the look in his eyes convinces [Y/N] that he’s about to apologize, but then his lips are splitting into a wide grin again and he says, “What if I bribe a seventh year into doing your homework for you?”

Another scoff. She tears her wrist away from his grip and stalks off, in complete and utter disbelief.

”Or a house-elf to bring you food?” he calls after her. “Someone to do your hair for you in the morning? Or someone to yell at me for you?”

She halts at the last one, and for some odd, unknown reason, she feels like smiling. But she doesn’t, because that will open a door into something she isn’t sure she wants to explore. So she turns around, suppressing that mysterious little smile, already twenty feet away from Malfoy as she says, loudly, “I like doing that last one myself, thanks.”

From this distance, she thinks Malfoy might be smiling. But she doesn’t stay long enough to find out.

click here to read pt. 2!

[pinkteapotwriting]

Not so Innocent desires

Wolfstar x fem!reader

Warning : This is so filthy dear lord, explicit sexual content, Sub!fem reader, spanking, oral, innocence kink and I think that’s it

Just good ol fashioned smut

Summary : Turns out you Remus and Sirius want to treat you a certain way, it takes some special kind of convincing from your end though.

Word count : 3164

The lovely @fionanovasleftnut had a wonderful idea that I couldn’t resist writing about. I’m not sure with how this one turned out but I hope I did the idea justice. xXx

---

Being a family friend of the Weasleys had its perks. You always had someone to stick up for you, always had someone who could make you laugh, and you always had a home with them, wherever that may be. You had moved out on your own as soon as you graduated from Hogwarts, but it seemed that wasn’t the way to start your life as a young adult. The wizarding world was at war and Molly Weasley was insistent that one of her adopted daughters should not be defenseless living alone. 

You had tried to reassure her that you would be fine, you even approached your most likely allies.

“Fred, George please tell her I’ll be fine. You understand right?” They only chuckled at your cute pout and brushed your concerns aside.

So no. No one was willing to risk the parting of their lovely Y/N.

You were too kindhearted, too sweet, too pure. A ray of sunshine in these dark times, too precious to leave unprotected. 

You had been so angry at first, but your anger was soon turned into bashfulness as you were met by two very attractive men. Of course you knew Professor Lupin, he was your teacher and even now words from his mouth directed your way made heat rise to your face.

 Then there was Sirius Black. His long black hair framed his face perfectly. His stormy grey eyes made you completely weak at the knees. 

Everything about these two men left you flustered, Remus’s quick wit, Sirius’s hearty laugh, the knowing glances they’d share, Remus’s scars you just wanted to spend hours tracing, and Sirius’s ring clad fingers that tapped impatiently against the table. For being in Azkaban for 12 years his hands sure looked strong and capable. 

It was a blessing and a curse really. You got to admire two very attractive men, yet you couldn’t manage much more than bashful nods at times. That didn’t stop them from approaching you however. They were so kind and welcoming, so much so that you took up Sirius’s offer to stay there rather than at the Weasleys. He knew you valued your alone time and got anxious in large groups so he thought you’d appreciate your own room rather than crowding in with the Weasleys. It was all good and well.

Except for how often you found yourself rubbing your thighs together at night to ease some sort of tension. Nothing could stop the wetness that pooled in your underwear at the memory of Sirius clenching his jaw in anger as Snape talked, or the way Remus calmed him down by rubbing his hand up and down his thigh. So once again that night you found yourself with that familiar ache you just didn’t know how to satisfy on your own. Your fingers just weren’t good enough. You got up in a huff to get some water at an attempt to calm down. You slipped down the hallway silently, but the sound of a low moan coming from Sirius’s room stopped you in your tracks. The door was slightly ajar and although you knew you shouldn’t peek in, the dull throbbing of your clit convinced you to stay. You had to stifle your own moan at the sight in front of you. 

Sirius was sitting on the edge of his four poster king sized bed while Remus was on his knees between his legs jacking him off.

“Fuck Pads, how was it already this hard I’ve hardly touched you.”

“It’s not my fault! Blame Y/N with those stupid lips she bites. And her big doe eyes and and- fuck Moony that feels so good.” 

Remus grinned at the chance to tease Sirius.

“Not as good as Y/N would feel though right? Bet you’d love to have her little hands wrapped around your cock huh. Imagine if you got to stretch out her perfect little pussy. She’s so fucking innocent, so pure”

“I wanna ruin her god she’s pretty, but at the same time she’s so precious I don’t wanna taint her. She deserves something more gentle and sweet.”

“You’re certainly smitten aren’t you?”

“Don’t act like you don’t wanna fuck her to the brink of tears. Have you heard that cute little giggle? Imagine what her whines sound like. I just wanna watch as you wrap your big hands round her thro-”

“S’that what you want? You wanna make innocent little Y/N our cockslut. Wanna make her our needy puppy. Wonder how many times we could make her come with just our fingers.”

“Fuck Remus I’m gonna cum.”

“Yeah that’s right love, cum to the picture of fucking her mercilessly, her nails scratching down your back cause you’re fucking her so hard.”

You watched Sirius shudder while Remus’s face lit up in victory. You decided it was best to leave before they were no longer distracted. 

Well, that certainly didn’t make you any less riled up. Looks like they wanted you as much as you wanted them. You knew you’d have to put your shyness aside, but how on earth do you talk to someone about that. Yes, hello I find you two super hot and I’d just love it if you’d degrade me and throw me around thank you so much. Frankly you never knew you wanted that yourself until you heard the words fall from their lips with ease. You put your plan in motion as you traveled back to your room, praying it would work.

---

You were giddy when you woke up, anxious for the day that awaited you. You decided to wear a shirt that Remus had once complimented, suddenly much more aware of how it complimented your chest. You paired it with your shortest skirt and thigh high socks. You turned around and shoulder checked to appreciate yourself, knowing if you bent over too much anyone could see the white lace thong you had underneath.

You knew the order meeting was starting earlier than usual so you pranced down the stairs and were met with a dumbstruck Ron and Ginny.

“Blimey Y/N, who are you trying to shag?” He was instantly met with a slap by Ginny.

“Shut it Ron, don’t talk about Y/N like that you git. You look adorable.” She reassured.

You smiled sweetly at her and gave her a quick peck on the cheek. “Thanks Gin, I’m gonna go get breakfast now.”

You swear you saw Remus and Sirius give a double take when you entered the kitchen. Pleased your plan was going well you continued into the next phase and sat between Fred and George casually as if your heart wasn’t racing a million miles an hour. Any laugh that the twins could pull from your lips were met with a hard stare from Sirius and Remus. Normally Remus could keep a calm disposition but you could notice the look of contempt in his eyes as his hand clenched the edge of the table. 

 You pushed your chair back and made your way to the sink. 

“Here Molly, let me help you clean up.”

“Thank you dear, you can just grab the dishes from the table love.” 

You made your way round the table and once you reached where your two admirers were you squeezed between them and bent over to grab the last plate, feeling your skirt ride up high enough to gain a sharp intake of breath from Sirius. 

“Sorry, it was just easier to get it this way.” 

You smiled to yourself as you helped Molly finish cleaning. Everything cycled out and everyone rearranged where they sat as they tidied up before the meeting began. You were thrilled at the chance to sit between Remus and Sirius now that everyone had moved. You leaned forward so you could rest your chin on your hand as Kingsley Shacklebolt spoke of the newest updates happening within the ministry. Fred and George would sometimes try to throw you off by making funny faces, but they were met by a hard glare by Remus which instantly simmered them down, while Sirius placed his arm around the back of your chair in a possessive manner. Welp, now was as good a time as ever to test the waters. You leaned back into your chair and crossed one leg over the other so your foot would brush against Sirius’s calf. He passed a glance, and you took a deep breath and moved it up and down his leg. You smirked at how you saw his hands clench and that spurred you on to lightly place your hand on Remus’s thigh.

“Y/N love, what are you doing exactly” Remus’s voice was shaky, like he was holding back.

Time to ice the cake.

“Nothing Remmy, I’m just being innocent little Y/N.”

Sirius’s head swerved at that one and you couldn’t help but notice the growing tent in his trousers.

---

It took forever for everyone to leave after the meeting. It took even longer to convince Molly that you were fine to stay here rather than go back to the burrow.

“Alright Y/N if you’re sure, but you know how to reach me if you need anything at all right?”

“Of course Molly.”

If she knew what you wanted these two men to do to you she would be dragging you by the ear out the door. But finally, finally she left.

Leaving you alone with two straight faced men whose expressions were unreadable. Remus was the first to break the silence. 

“Y/N, did you over hear our conversation last night”

You nodded, but Sirius wasn’t having it.

“Nuh uh, you’re gonna answer out loud for us pretty girl. You don’t get to tease us the way you do then act all shy now.”

“Yes, I heard.”

Remus returned to questioning you. “Yeah, and did you like what you heard?”

“I- I did.”

“Didn’t know you were such a naughty girl” Sirius chortled, “wish I would have known sooner.”

“I’m not naughty!”

“Oh yeah what makes you say that?”

“Cause I wanna be your good girl, please make me your good girl.”

Remus was hypnotised by the puppy dog eyes and pouty lips looking up at him.

“Shhh we’ve got you puppy, we just thought you’d want something more gentle.”

“No Remmy, I want you.”

“You can have me darling, let's go upstairs.”

He offered his hand to you and you took it eagerly, and began your journey upstairs, earning a chuckle from Sirius as you snatched his hand too on the way. As soon as you entered they had their hands on you, Sirius had you pressed against Remus as he was kissing your neck. 

“You sure you want this love?”

“Please Siri.”

“Alright pup, safe word is red okay? Any point you feel uncomfortable you tell us and we’ll stop immediately. Can you say it for me?” 

“Red.”

“Good girl,” Remus praised “Here, let's take all this off since it’s not covering much anyway.”

You nodded and lifted your arms for Remus while Sirius got on his knees to take off your skirt. He debated leaving the socks on, but he wanted you to feel every single thing so he took them off. Now last, but certainly not least. 

“As cute as these panties are, they're only in my way, can I take these off precious?”

“M Hmm.”

Remus was quite content to take off your bra and massage your breasts and nibble across your shoulders while Sirius continued his attempts to draw dirty words from your clean mouth.

“Baby, your pussy is so wet right now. Can I touch it, love?”

You spread your legs further for him as an invitation.

“Not here, our precious girl deserves to be comfy on the bed.” 

Remus sat against the headboard and motioned for you to follow suit between his thighs.

You practically skipped there, so excited for what was about to happen. You sat down with a quick plop and wiggled your hips to get more comfy, eyes wide as Sirius crawled up from the end of the bed to push your legs apart and gently trace your inner thighs with his forefinger.

“Tell me pup, have you ever touched yourself?”

You nodded bashfully, which Remus did not enjoy apparently as he lightly slapped your thigh with one hand while the other grabbed hold of your jaw to force your eyes onto Sirius fully.

“What did we say about speaking out loud pup, be a good girl.”

“Sorry Remmy, I got embarrassed, I do touch myself Siri”

Sirius grinned, “What makes you touch yourself sweet girl.”

“You, you and Moony do.” He relished in the whine that escaped your lips as he finally made contact with your aching clit, clearly he liked that answer.

“What do you imagine us doing to you pup.”

You moaned as his pace quickened. “Anything, anything you want.”

That’s when his tongue made contact on your clit instead. You jolted at the sudden change, but Remus was quick to hold you down.

“That feel good, sweetheart? I love Siri’s tongue too.” 

You could only throw your head back and mewl as Sirius’s tongue flicked faster and he added a finger to the mix, completely enthralled with how your entrance clenched around it desperately.

“Pads I think our pretty girl is gonna cum keep going. Has anyone ever made you feel this good puppy? Fred or George couldn’t make you feel like this could they?”

“No- no Remmy.”

“Wait till I get my turn love, go on and cum so I can make my pretty girl feel good too.”

Even Sirius’s tight grip on your thigh couldn’t keep you tethered as you released on his face. Bliss like you had never known overtook and it’s like you were hyper aware of every touch, every breath of theirs that fanned across your body, and every kiss that Remus awarded you with for being your lovely self.

And you couldn’t get enough of it.

Neither could Sirius as he leaned back to take in the view of the masterpiece he created. He loved how you had squirmed under his touch as he continued to thrust his fingers eagerly. 

He was feeling benevolent though and pulled out. Instead he took a firm grasp on your hair and pulled you on your hands and knees so you were eyelevel with his throbbing cock. 

Remus placed a couple of smacks on your ass now that it was exposed for him.

“What do you say to Pads for making you feel so good?”

Sirius wondered if you were aware how cute you looked with your owlish eyes oggling his long member.

“Thank you, Siri.”

“That’s right Puppy, now how about you return the favor.”

You just nodded obediently and stuck out your tongue, which only made Sirius growl even louder as he shoved his cock in your mouth. You tried your best to relax your throat but found yourself gagging at the surprise feeling of Remus’s head rubbing up and down your slick folds.

You arched your back and whimpered around Sirius’s cock and Remus got the message loud and clear. Slowly he inched his way inside groaning when your wet heat enveloped him completely. Once you were used to the feeling you wiggled your hips as a signal so he could move. The slow powerful thrusts of Remus made Sirius thrust through your perfect lips even faster at how the vibrations you emitted felt around his cock. His grip on your hair got even tighter.

“Fuck you feel so good puppy, such a good girl taking such good care of us. I’m gonna cum all over that pretty face, want me to cum all over your face, sweet girl?”

At the sound of your desperate whining he gave your face a few rough pats and yanked your head back. He couldn’t take his eyes off you as you stuck your tongue out waiting patiently while he stroked his dick furiously. Finally he released on your face, but before you got the chance to think he was licking it up with wide stripes across your face before moving to kiss Remus. You glanced over your shoulder at the two most beautiful men you’d ever been blessed to see, and moaned as their teeth clashed in a hungry and needy kiss. They stopped in a pant and had their foreheads pressed together, grinning at your demands.

“Moony I think our good little puppy wants more attention.”

“Aw, is that so my needy angel. I can fix that for you.”

Quicker than you could count he had you flipped on your back and started fucking into you ruthlessly. His movements were filled with so much determination that every thrust was pushing you to the end of the bed until your back was hanging off the edge. He grabbed hold of your legs and swung them both over your shoulders so he could reach even newer sensitive spots inside you, completely captivated by how freely your tits bounced in this position.

“Rem- Remus I’m gonna cum.”

“No you’re not, you be our good girl and hold on a little longer.”

“Please I can’t take it.”

“If you wanna cum you beg for it then, since you can’t wait.”

“Please please, let me be your good girl, please let me cum you make me feel so good please.”

“Hear that Pads? Imagine if someone heard pure little Y/N acting as our desperate puppy. Okay darling you go ahead and make a mess on my cock baby.”

A wave of euphoria rushed over you as you hung there and took every slam that came your way. The bliss however quickly became too much as your legs wriggled to find your escape from his strong grasp. He just grunted and let you slide into a heap on the floor. He swept to the side of the bed and around to where you were and hoisted you back on the bed so you were on your stomach and your legs hung off the edge. He pressed his hand to your back to firmly hold you in place.

“Angel you begged for this, now you’re gonna take it, yeah?”

He returned to his prior animalistic pace that summoned tears to roll down your cheeks. 

Sirius started petting your head lovingly “It’s okay love, you’re being such a good girl for Moony and I. You look so gorgeous with those tears all fucked out.”

He continued to comfort you and press kisses to your hairline until finally Remus reached satisfaction with his brutal attack on your tight hole.

“Fuck, Y/N I’m gonna cum”

He pulled out swiftly and his hips found their way to Sirius’s hungry lips. It was such a beautiful sight, but your voice made and audible whine before you could control yourself.

“What’s wrong sweetheart, thought you wanted me to stop.”

“Wanted your cum, wanted you to cum in me Remmy.”

“We’ve got plenty of time to make that happen precious girl.”

---

Hmmm yeah I’m not sure how I feel about this one, but I hope y’all enjoy my lovelies <3

@thotbutpurple @quindolyn @sunny-bunnny

[thesmalltowngal]

Snowbaz 23- Golden Days

Otp Prompt #23: There’s a fair in town, and all of Watford attends. Everything in Simon and Baz’s lives has gone to hell… they deserve one night of forgetting everything. What will happen on their last day of freedom under the neon lights of the carnival? (Before the defeat the Humdrum, after everything else except Baz and Simon aren’t together yet.)

*Baz’s POV*

My father is an arsehole. After everything that’s happened this year, of bloody course I felt it horrifically unnecessary to go to a carnival. Crowley, we should still be focused on the war with the old families and the Humdrum, for fucks’ sake! When I told my father my plans of sitting it out, he for some reason felt the need to fight me on the subject.

“Basilton, you’ll regret it if you don’t go, you know.” He had said to me, looking bored. (Although I knew that he wasn’t bored- he was fully alert and intent on giving me hell.)

“Father, in what world would I regret not going to a silly party for children where all they serve is…” I visibly shiver as I lace  disgust into my tone. “Fried.” He rolled his eyes then, as he does so often. 

“These are the good days, my son. You should make memories- you’ll regret it later if you don’t go tonight.” Well that was the biggest bloody load of shit I had ever heard. The good days? Yes, yes, the good days in which I spent pining over my enemy that was destined to kill me, loathing myself to a point of insanity, and trying to find my mothers’ killer. What wonderful memories. 

I tried to keep my composure as I said, “But, father, I really see it more fit to-”

“Basil. Enough. This is non-negotiable, I’m afraid. You are to go to the carnival and that’s that.” We didn’t discuss it further. I knew I could have simply skipped, but no doubt that he’d find out somehow. I promptly huffed (with dignity- I’m not a troll) up to my room and stayed there for the rest of the afternoon, playing mournful songs on my violin.

I’ll be damned if I, Basilton Grimm-Pitch spend the whole carnival moping because father dearest told me I had to go. I was just going to sit on a wall smoking with Dev and Niall, but apparently their parents couldn’t make sense of why they should go, either. They’re currently at their respective homes, preparing for the inevitable war. 

The carnival is already loud and large, and it’s not even noon yet. Most of Watford attends, which explains the mysterious floating popcorn all around. There are people everywhere, their pulses beating unbearably loud. (I had to drain two deer before this, just to make sure I wasn’t tempted by all of the flowing blood around.) Looking around, I see people I know, but I’ve never talked to. (Mostly because they’re inferior.) I don’t want to go in. I don’t want to make ‘memories��� with people who would like to see me dead, and I most certainly don’t want to be here watching Snow and Wellbelove cozy it up on the Ferris Wheel. 

Startling me from my thoughts, I feel a finger tap me on my shoulder. I whip around, expecting to see Dev or Niall after all, but instead, I’m face to face with Simon Snow himself. (Well, not face to face so much. More like his face to my jaw.) Speak of the devil. He looks beautiful, as always. His bronze curls are a halo of gold around his face and his (extra)ordinary blue eyes. He looks nervous, but determined. 

“What do you want, Snow?” I sneer. 

*Simon’s POV*

I wish he wouldn’t sneer at me so much. I came over to him because honestly, he was the only familiar face I could find. Not much time to socialize with anyone but your bloody roommate, (ex) girlfriend and best friend when you’re the chosen one. 

I roll my eyes, but speak nonetheless. “Well, er… where are Dev and Niall?”

“Currently unavailable,” He pauses for a moment, thinking. “Why, Snow?” To be quite honest, I don’t really know why I’m doing this myself. Maybe because there’s no one else I know here. Maybe because I know this is the last time I’ll see Baz until one of us kills the other. Maybe because he just looked so alone standing there in front of the carnival.

“Well, because, um… Well, I-”

“Spit it out, Chosen.”

“Penny and Agatha couldn’t come tonight and I don’t know anyone else. And I just… well, I just need a night away from everything.” I look at him with what I hope are pleading eyes. He scoffs and begins to walk away, but I reach out for his arm. He stops, looking back at me, and quirks an eyebrow. “Listen… Baz, please. This is our last day of freedom. It’s the end of the year, the end of Watford, and right now, I just want to forget everything. Just for one night. Do it with me, Baz.” He looks mildly disgusted, but I can tell that he’s thinking about it. 

“Everything?” He nearly whispers. I know he means everything that’s happened with us in the past. The fighting, the threats. I nod my head, sure of myself. “Okay. Deal.” I let his arm go and we walk side by side into the carnival (we’ve never walked side by side; it’s weird) that has a large neon sign at the top of the gates. ‘Golden Days’. Must be the name of the carnival. I look at Baz with uncertainty, but he just smiles at me. Merlin, is that what Baz’s smile looks like? Crowley, I could get used to that. 

I grab his hand and start running into the crowd, dragging him behind me. I hear what I think is Baz laughing behind me and it gives me a jolt of ecstasy. His laugh is so carefree… like he’s got nothing but everything to live for. I love it. I keep dragging him behind me until we get to the line for a rollercoaster. I let his hand go and I see that he turns pale. (Well, paler than usual, that is. He must’ve eaten before this because he has a bit more colour than he usually does.) 

“What’s wrong?” I frown. He gulps and I watch as his Adam’s apple bobs up and down.

“Nothing, Snow, I just…” He’s trying to maintain his composure, but he’s failing. It’s bloody odd seeing his nervous. Baz is a lot of things, but nervous is not one of them. “I’m not a fan of rollercoasters.” Oh. 

“We can ride another ride if you-”

“No. No, it’s fine, Snow. I can do it,”

“Why are you afraid?” He glares at me but doesn’t correct my word choice. 

“When I was younger I went on one with my aunt Fiona. I… well my stomach didn’t react well.”

“Vampires can get sick?” I mentally slap myself, but instead of glaring at me, he just nods absentmindedly as he stares at the rollercoaster. He must really be scared if he’s admitting to being a vampire. Although I suppose it doesn’t quite matter now that we’re not in Watford anymore. I grab his hand and give it a squeeze, not letting it go this time. His hand is cold and calloused but it’s a nice break from Agatha’s warm and smooth hands. I think I see his breath catch, but I ignore it. 

We don’t talk again until we’re seated in the ride, climbing up to the top before the drop. Baz’s breath is fast and his leg is shaking, so I hold his hand even tighter. “It’s gonna be okay Baz,” I laugh. He rolls his eyes, but I see the smile playing on his lips. As we drop, I look over to see Baz screaming, but laughing all the same. His hair is flying all around his face and he looks absolutely perfect as always. The bloody wanker never looks bad even as he’s terrified on a rollercoaster. As we lurch on the turns, he looks over to me, his face alight with joy. (It occurs to me now that I don’t think I’ve ever really seen Baz happy. It’s… well it’s bloody lovely.) I smile back and we keep holding hands all throughout the ride. 

*Baz’s POV*

Snow seems to be keen on torturing me. On all of the rides so far, he’s held my hand bone-breakingly hard. (Although it doesn’t hurt because I can’t really feel the pain. All I feel is his warmth in my cold hand.) He only lets go once we’re off the rides, and even then it seems reluctantly. After all these years of fighting, being friends with him seems so natural. I try not to think too hard about how it will all go back to normal by morning. Aleister Crowley, I wish we could stay this way forever. 

The sun is setting now, but the carnival goes on until sunrise. Well, I suppose that’s not totally true. The Normals leave around 11 and then the Watford students spell the gates unlocked after, staying in until daybreak. Only four more hours until the Normals leave.

Simon turns to me, smiling a lopsided and bashful smile. “I’m kind of hungry…” He mutters, a grin on his face the whole time. I roll my eyes good naturedly. (Who would’ve thought that was possible?) 

“You’re always hungry, you git,” I sigh and prompt him to walk forward. “Go on then, Snow. Let’s get you some atrociously fried food.” Somehow, his face lights up even more as he grabs my hand again (I feel sparks every time we touch) and drags me to the nearest food stand. (Can you even call it food?) Simon orders one big ‘funnel cake’ and a corn dog. Both fried. Both bound to make him sick on the rides. When we get the food, he drags me along to an open bench to sit down. He places the corn dog in front of me and the cake in front of him. I simply shake my head and push the dog to sit in front of him. (What I would give for a real dog right now. I’m not very hungry for blood, but I wouldn’t pass it up.)

He furrows his brow and pushes the food back to me, along with some ketchup. “Eat.” He says it simply, like it’s a command. I roll my eyes, but (reluctantly) dip the corn dog in ketchup and then take a bite. It’s… well it’s not the bloody worst thing I’ve ever had. Crowley, it might actually be good. I suppose I’ve never had anything fried. It’s frowned upon at the Pitch manor. But this isn’t half bad. I cover my mouth as I take another, bigger bite. When I look up from my plate, Simon is smirking to himself while absolutely shoveling food into his mouth. 

I must look disgusted because he looks up at me and asks (with his mouth full), “What?” I laugh and roll my eyes again. It’s like watching a dog eat. A dog that I’d like to slip the tongue. 

“You’re disgusting,” I shake my head and look away from his face before I do something stupid. Like spit on him and then lick it all off and kiss him. Yes, that would most certainly not be smart. I cover my mouth with my hand again as I take another bite, trying to chew around my fangs. But before I can even swallow, Simon gently (I never thought Simon could ever do anything gentle to me) pulls my hand away from my mouth and holds it there. There aren’t butterflies in my stomach. Vampires don’t get butterflies. We’re immortal and dangerous and badarse. I have bats in my stomach.

“Baz, you know you don’t have to do that here. No one else is paying attention,” Does that mean that he’s paying attention? “It’s just me. Eat how you want.” He shrugs, pulling his hand away from mine after a moment, blushing furiously. He is so bloody adorable when he blushes. Damn it all to hell.

I don’t cover my mouth again as I keep eating and he smiles at me. I can feel his magic wrap all around me as we eat together in silence. Not in a threatening, burning way like usual… it’s warm. Safe. 

“What ever is the bloody appeal to that fried… mess that you’re eating, Snow?” I break the silence. He looks up at me, eyes practically bulging out of his head. “What?” I inquire.

“You’ve never had a funnel cake?” I shake my head.

“Um, no. I don’t fancy getting vampire diabetes anytime soon.” He lets out a laugh (I realize too late that I’ve just admitted to being a vampire… but he doesn’t seem to care) and pushes his plate to me, gesturing at the powdered mess. 

“Try it! It’s delicious, Baz. Just one bite,”

“I, um… I think not,” He rolls his eyes and gets a small bite of the monstrosity on his fork. 

“Open.” He commands.

“Er, Snow-”

“Open!” He commands with a laugh. I sigh, because I know that he won’t relent anytime soon. I open my mouth ever so slightly. I know he sees my fangs because his eyes go a bit wider and he mutters, “Wicked…” I try to ignore the urge to snap my mouth shut as he puts the food in my mouth. It tastes like… well it tastes like right diabetes, doesn’t it? But powdered sugar covered, fried to perfection diabetes. 

“Crowley, Snow! This is delicious!” I snatch the plate from him and start eating at a Simon-Snow-pace, manners well from my mind now. He frowns, so I quirk an eyebrow at him.

“Well, Baz, since we’ve decided to put everything behind us… I ‘spose you shouldn’t call me by my last name anymore, yeah?” He fidgets with his fingers as he says it. Calling him Simon seems so… personal. Too personal for enemies-turned-one-night-friends. But I suppose I could have a bit of fun with this. Before I can say anything, he blurts out, “And not Chosen, either.”

“Right. Well then… where to next, love?” He takes in a breath and turns bright red, tripping over every other word. For a moment, I think I’ve done the wrong thing, but once he gets a hold on himself, he just smiles at me and nods. 

“Okay, Baz. Very funny. ‘Least it’s better than Snow or Chosen.” I can’t believe he’s letting me call him love. 

*Simon’s POV*

I can’t believe that I’m letting him call me love. I can’t believe that I liked it when he called me love. I don’t know why I want him to do it again. I get up from my seat and throw our trash away, trying to calm myself down away from Baz’s watchful eye. When I get back to our table, he’s standing up and waiting for me while adjusting his jacket. 

“Come on then, Sn-” He stops himself before he can finish, turning a little pink. “Love. I’ve got the next place to go to.” I smile and grab his hand, letting him lead me to our next adventure. In some ways, I’m happy that Penny and Agatha couldn’t make it. I’m glad that I get to spend time with Baz alone. (When did I start wanting alone time with my enemy?) 

When we finally stop, he takes his hand back. (For reasons I’m not willing to think about right now) I feel my heart fall when he does. We’re in the line for the Ferris Wheel. It’s nearly time for the Normals to start heading out; they’re walking out of the carnival and the Magicians have started spelling the workers to keep the place up and running after the Normals leave. When we get up to the front of the line, the man working the ride let us on in the two seater. The Ferris Wheel is so tall that the seats should probably be enclosed, but it’s a carnival, so no one is surprised. 

Baz and I squeeze in next to each other, and not one single part of our bodies other than our heads aren’t touching. From our toes to our shoulders, I can feel an electric current running through my veins. My heart is beating wildly. I don’t exactly know why- it’s just Baz. My enemy/friend for one night. Although, I’m trying not to think too hard about the one night part. In fact, I’m trying not to think about anything right now, really. Just how safe I feel at the moment, and how lovely Baz has been tonight. It almost hurts, knowing that this is how we could’ve spent all those years. As friends instead of mortal enemies. Then again, that wasn’t really our choice in the first place. 

But it is tonight. As we slowly climb higher and higher, the carnival gets much quieter. Much calmer than when the Normals were here. The air is filled with magic. I can feel Baz’s magic wrapping around me, and the night sky is thick with everyone else’s. Everything is flying every which way and sparks from wands are everywhere. But what might be most beautiful is the neon lights all around us. Once it got dark, everything started lighting up, but not so bright that we can’t see the stars at the top of the Ferris Wheel. It’s beautiful. I can’t help but lean into Baz, resting my head on his shoulder. 

Maybe it’s just me, but I think I can hear his heart beating. It’s not long before I feel his head resting on top of mine. His hair tickles my ears, but I can’t find it in myself to mind. I don’t mind anything right now. Crowley, I think that the Humdrum himself could pop up right now and I wouldn’t give a bloody rats’ arse. 

I slowly bring my head up, and when I look over at Baz, he’s blushing. “Sorry, Snow- er, Simon. I mean, um…” He sounds like me, tripping over his words. Ignoring the way that my heart leapt into my throat when he called me Simon, I stop him. 

“Baz, no. I just… well I was wondering why we were never friends like this before.” I feel my face burn, but I just need to know the answer. I need to know why we weren’t ever like this when Merlin it’s been so wonderful tonight.

He looks at me with his stormy eyes as he says, “You know why. My family, they… well, you know, Simon.” There he goes calling me Simon again. He looks away, but I catch his face with my fingers. We’re stopped at the top now; we can see everything from up here. But all I find myself wanting to look at is Baz. 

“Screw your family.” He looks taken aback, and I must admit, I’ve surprised myself, too. I don’t know where this courage came from. I’m not drunk. (Well, maybe a bit. Maybe drunk on Baz.)

“Simon, I-”

“Stop calling me Simon.” I state simply. Stop calling me Simon or I’m going to do something stupid. 

He pauses for a moment, looking into my eyes like he wants to memorize every ordinary colour there. 

“Simon.” He whispers.

*Baz’s POV*

I don’t know why I called him Simon again. Maybe because he’s looking at me hungrily, and Crowley, I want to know what he’ll do. Maybe because if it makes him mad… I’ll get to kiss him before he sends me flying. Maybe, if he screams at me for calling him by his name, I’ll finally get what I want. 

Then he kisses me. I don’t waste any time floundering or pulling away. Instead I automatically pull him closer, deepening the kiss. Merlin, Methulusah and Morgana nothing has ever felt this nice. He’s doing this thing with his jaw, and his hands are roaming under my shirt and in my hair and I can barely even think, and-

Someone clears their throat loudly. “The ride is over, gentlemen.” Simon and I spring away from each other and look at the ride operator. I just got into trouble for snogging Simon Snow on the Ferris Wheel. Aleister Crowley, I’m living a charmed life. I feel Simon shaking with laughter as he clambers (really clambers- he’s as graceful as a hippo) out of the seat and extends his hand out to help me up. 

“Coming, love?” I smile at him so hard that my cheeks hurt. (Probably because I’m not used to smiling.) I nod and grab his hand, letting him help me out. Instead of pulling his hand away this time, he laces his fingers through mine and takes off running with me as we shoot down the nearly barren walkways. Magicians all around look at us with curiosity, but I can’t find it in me to care. As we run, my jacket billows behind me and Simon keeps tripping… but it’s perfect.

It’s like a slow motion scene from those movies. The one where the couple is running away from their troubles together, like nothing else matters. They’re smiling and laughing, and the one in front turns back to look at the one behind them, all of the love in the world in their eyes. It’s like that, but so much bloody better because it’s gay. And anything with Simon Snow in it is infinitely better in my book. 

We finally get to a man with a large old-timey polaroid camera stood up and Simon places two pounds in his hand. He drags me up in front of the camera and pulls me down to his level and smashes his face against mine, as though we were in a photo booth. The camera snaps. For the next one, he presses his lips warmly against my cheek and waits for the camera to snap again. Then, he (without my knowledge or permission) (although he could kill me now, and he’d have my permission) jumps up into my arms and nuzzles his face into my neck, closing his eyes. I’m supposed to be looking at the camera, but I can only keep my eyes on him. Finally, for the last picture, he hops down from my arms. As he goes to do a pose beside me, he (somehow) trips over himself and ends up grabbing onto my jacket collar, pulling me towards him. We land in a breathtaking kiss, him still pulling me ever closer, and me too stunned to do anything but let him. 

When the camera snaps, he springs away and  goes to retrieve the photos from the man. Simon has more energy than a labrador right now. I’d like to think it was from kissing me, but it might just be from the overall craziness of the night. For a moment, he slows, taking my hand and pulling me close so that I can see the photos, too. They all turned out lovely, even if he did nearly knock me over in the process multiple times. He looks up at me now, and he walks backwards, taking me with him. (He tucks the photos away in my jacket pocket.) 

When we get behind a tent, he pulls me to him again, snogging me like there’s no time left. There is no way that things will ever go back to the way they were after this. 

*Simon’s POV*

We’ve been having a proper snog now for at least twenty minutes. My heart is… well it feels like it’s been lit on fire, doesn’t it? (In a wonderful way, that is.) His mouth is soft and cold and I can’t help it when I lean back and tell him something that I’m not even sure I knew myself. “I love you, Baz.” His face glows and he looks at me as though he’s always been hungry for my touch. (And my touch only.)

“Crowley, you dolt. I’ve loved you since fifth bloody year.” He laughs before pulling me back in to get lost in him again. 

…

We spend the rest of the night on a hill near the back of the carnival either snogging or talking. He’s laying down right next to me, and I’m practically on top of him. We should’ve been like this all these years. It only took us until graduation to figure it out.

“Hey Baz?” He traces the moles on my face while I run my hand on his stomach. (In just a short time, I’ve learned that it’s one of his favorite places to be touched.)

“Yes, Simon?” I smile when he calls me by my name again. So much better than Snow or Chosen. (Although ‘love’ might be a close second.)

“Thank you,”

“For what?”

“For… for giving me a night away from everything. For escape,” He frowns. 

“What?” I ask as I place a kiss to his jaw. 

“Is that all this is? Are we… will this be over by tomorrow?” I can’t help but let out a laugh.

“Not by a long shot, my love… not by a long shot.” 

*Baz’s POV*

I understand now why my father wanted me to come to the carnival. This will undoubtedly be my favorite memory in years to come. I also understand the name of the carnival now. ‘Golden Days’.

The definition of Golden Days is “a period of great happiness, prosperity, and achievement.’ These are the golden days, the bad and all. Simon Snow is my golden day. 

Fourty Years Later

“Simon, love!” I call down to him from the attic. In a few minutes, he comes climbing up the stairs as fast as he can. He may not have his magic anymore, but he’s still fit for an old man. I suppose we’re both old men, now. He’s just an old man with a tail and wings. 

“Yes, Baz?” I stand up (not as agile as I used to be) and walk over to him, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of his face. 

“Look at what I found, dear…” I give him the pile of polaroids that I found in a crate. “From the carnival so many years ago.” He smiles wistfully at the pictures. We were both young, then- no wrinkles or worry lines. (Although he is still dashing in his old age.) In the polaroids, we were at a carnival called ‘Golden Days’, I believe.

“Yes, I remember…” He mutters more to himself than me. I know he doesn’t remember. Dementia does that to a person. But that’s okay. As the years went on and the colours of wanderlust started fading… so did Simon. But there are some things that have remained. The memories will never change, for one. We’ve stayed absolutely drunk on each other, throughout our lives. I’ve stayed pale, and Simon has stayed bloody handsome. The love has remained the same. And even though Simon doesn’t remember half of our memories… I’ll keep them alive. I’ll keep him alive. The him that was so alive and so full of wonder. 

I will never forget the golden days that changed my life forever.

[one-grimm-bitch]

Need Nothin’ But You - Snowbaz

fic for @urahnia!! happy birthday bean!! love you lots <##

tw: homophobic language/violence

(for reference: Baz’s POV refers to Ebb as Ms.Petty, Simon refers to her as Ebb)

***

Baz watched as Snow chewed his lip in concentration, brows knitting together before he continued to scribble numbers on his page. Baz suppressed a chuckle as Snow gritted his teeth- turning the pencil upside down to erase another mistake from his page. He raised his hand silently, urging their teacher over, and displaying his own work expectedly.

“I think this should be right,” Baz said quietly- yet apparently loud enough for Snow to hear- as he turned around in his seat to glare at Baz. Ms.Petty checked the problem and his answer before giving him a nod.

“Nice work, Basilton,” she sent him a small smile and then made on her way back to her desk. Baz gave Snow- who was still glaring at him, the imp- a smug grin. Snow rolled his eyes and turned harshly in his seat back to his own page.

***

Simon hated the way Baz Pitch could get under his skin so easily. He gripped his pencil harder, tongue poked out in concentration as his mind relayed the steps to properly find zeros of the function. How Baz had managed to complete the first problem in two minutes was beyond him- and the words Penny had told him in the beginning of the year reverberated in his mind. Just because he can do something great doesn’t mean that you’re not doing good as well, don’t let him stop you from doing your best, Simon. And so Simon attempted to push all thoughts of the long-haired git from his mind, focussing solely on the headache-inducing number of x’s on his page to solve for.

By the time he completed the series of problems they were given the bell was about to ring, and most students had already gathered their things into their bags. Simon’s head popped up when the screeching of Baz’s chair disrupted him from his thoughts. He watched in curiosity as the boy left the room a minute early, not even giving Ebb a glance as he strode out of the room seemingly without a thought. Simon gaped at Ebb, silently asking for an explanation, she smiled and shrugged.

“It’s not my place to tell you, Simon,” was all she gave him before the bell truly did ring, and Simon was rushing to get everything in his pack and racing out the door.

***

Baz walked quickly in the few minutes he had before all of the students would be let from their classes to go to their next ones. He was thankful to Ms.Petty, who had understood his situation and offered a solution that had certainly saved him one or two times. For Baz, walking through the halls of his school to his next class took more strength than it really should. Ever since it was revealed that he was gay, he’d occasionally gotten shoved unceremoniously and had unkind words whispered and taunted in his ear. Leaving early allowed him to avoid it all, and Ms.Petty was one of the only teachers he had who let him do so.

He greeted Niall as he sat down at their lunch table, grinning as his friend launched into a story about how his modern government teacher had gotten drunk the previous night and made hilarious posts to their school’s website. Baz shook his head as he laughed, and was too caught up in his conversation that he didn’t notice the now silent lunchroom, or the football player standing behind him.

*** Simon felt uneasiness churn in his gut as Higgins approached Baz, and most of the room seemed to notice it too, a spell of silence overtaking everyone. For a reason he couldn’t place, Simon wished for the smile and laughter that was just there to reappear on Baz’s face. Baz was now realizing that everyone was staring at him, and looked behind himself briefly before Higgins grabbed him by the color and lifted him like he was nothing.

Simon gasped as Baz struggled under his grip, a kick to Higgin’s groin eventually getting him to let go.

“Niall’s one of our best players, we don’t want a queer like you messing him up,” Higgins snarled, and Simon felt anger scorch through him. Baz stood up from where he had been dropped to the ground and brushed off his pants casually before he chuckled.

“I didn’t realize having a gay friend affects one’s football skills,” Baz replied.

“Back the fuck off,” Niall gritted his teeth at Higgins.

“What, defending your boyfriend now?” Higgins first approaching Baz was shocking in itself, but nothing could’ve prepared Simon to watch Baz reel back his arm and hit Higgins right on the nose. Higgins stumbled back a few steps, clutching his bleeding nose with his fist. “You’re gonna pay for that, faggot,” Higgins snarled. Simon jumped up from his seat, and ignoring Penny’s protests, he ran forward and punched Higgins in the gut as he stepped forward to harm Baz.

“Stay the fuck away from him!” Simon shouted, Higgins glared at him, and was about to stand back up to retaliate before a teacher stepped between them, ending the fight.

***

“I’m glad they let us off the hook,” Snow said. He had his elbows on his knees and hands clasped like he was going to pray. Baz eyed Snow suspiciously.They were sitting outside of the principal’s office, the three highest officials in their school currently berating a bleeding and bruised Higgins for approaching Baz. A curl fell right over Snow’s eye, and Baz resisted the urge to tuck it back for him.

“You call one month’s detention ‘off the hook’?” Baz asked, Simon shrugged.

“Could’ve been expelled,” He replied, he was chewing his lip in concentration again.

“This is your fault, you know-” Baz started, but he was cut off.

“What? It was your ass who punched him first, I was just trying to stop him from killing you- which- no offense- but he totally could,” Simon rambled.

“I didn’t need you to protect me, as much as it hurts your ego for me to say it”

“Oh, my ego-” Simon was cut off as the door beside them squeaked open, a grim looking Natasha Pitch eyeing them both.

“Come back inside, please,” She said, her tone was clipped, and Baz hated it when she spoke to him in her “teacher voice”.

“Higgins has something he would like to say to you both, and I believe you two have something to say to him as well,” She gestured to Higgins, who was red in the face.

“I’m sorry I called you inappropriate things, that is not the conduct we have at Watford,” He mumbled robotically, looking all the part like he did very much not mean the words he had just said.

“And I’m sorry I punched you in the face as a response,” Baz replied, tone just as cool as his mother’s.

“Yeah, er- me too, for punching you in the stomach and all,” Simon muttered quickly.

“You all know your punishments, dismissed,” his mother stated. Baz knew he would get a mouthful at home, but was thankful that she didn’t call him in her office right away.

***

“Baz!” Simon called, with a nod from Ebb, he followed the Pitch out of the classroom and into the empty hallways. “Wait up!” They hadn’t spoken since the “fight” (though one couldn’t really call it one)- two days ago.

“What do you want, Snow?” Baz asked, not stopping his brisk pace. Simon had to quicken his stride to keep up with the taller boy.

“Er- could you help me in maths?” “Could I do what?” Baz asked incredulously.

“I’m falling behind and you’re the best in class- also I think punching the same guy we both hate makes us closer than algebra 2 rivals, yeah?” Baz stopped walking to turn and raise a brow at Simon.

“Algebra 2 rivals?”

“Well- yeah, but now I need your help- and I helped you against Higgins- whether you wanted me to or not,” Simon replied. Baz groaned out a fine through gritted teeth and Simon pumped his fist in the air with a victorous “Yes!”

“You’re a bloody mess, you know that, Snow?” Baz had chuckled, and in that moment Simon couldn’t understand why that made his heart beat a bit faster in his chest.

***

“You never did tell me why you helped me that day,” Baz told him randomly. They were sat in the library, peering over the study guide Ebb had given them for the test tomorrow.

“I dunno, felt like the right thing to do, I guess,” Simon answered with a shrug, he circled his answer on the page and sighed when Baz shook his head.

“I’m not a damsel in distress, Snow,” Baz replied, “Look at the divisor,” He nodded to the page and Simon gasped in realization before he began to solve the question again.

“Well duh, but that doesn’t mean I can’t bash Higgins in the gut if I want to.” Simon was smiling as he glanced back up at Baz, and his eyes widened as Baz grinned back.

“What?” Baz asked inquisitively.

“Nothing- er- just think I’ve mucked up the division again,” Simon answered quickly. Baz looked at his work.

“Yeah, you did”

***

“Snow?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you care?”

“Care about what?” Simon turned to look at Baz. They were lying on Simon’s messy bed after completing a study session, Simon not wishing to admit the heat that had flooded his cheeks when Baz had sat- somehow gracefully- onto his bed, wrinkling his nose slightly at the crumpled sheets and proceeding to  tie his hair up into a bun.

“That I’m gay,” Baz stated simply, and Simon froze.

“No? I mean- I wouldn’t ask you to tutor me if I had a problem with it,” Simon answered. Baz was giving him a strange look.

“Ok,” He was smiling now, “I’m glad,” Baz said, and Simon felt a well of happiness go up through his chest. It was the way that Baz’s eyes gleamed and crinkled as he smiled, so truly beautiful that Simon couldn’t stop the revelation that poured from his mouth.

“IthinkImightbegaytoo,” He said too quickly.

“You- what?” Baz stuttered, he was looking at Simon like he was a madman.

“I- I think I’m gay,” Simon whispered. He didn’t know why he was telling Baz of all people first. Maybe it was because he knew that Baz wouldn’t be homophobic- for obvious reasons- but also that he felt like he could trust the boy.

“Have you told anyone else?” Baz asked. And Simon flushed, turning away.

“No,” He mumbled.

“Then why me?” Baz asked.

“‘Cause,” Simon said, focussing his attention on his hands that sat on his lap.

“Cause I’m the only other out person you know?”

“No- cause- cause you’re you,” Simon said desperately.

“I’m- what are you saying?” Baz questioned and Simon huffed in annoyance.

“You’re you,” was all Simon mumbled again before he was looking back up and grabbing Baz’s shoulder, tugging him into an awkward and chaste kiss. At first Baz didn’t react, and Simon froze in fear, before plush lips were moving tentatively against his own. Simon sighed happily into Baz’s mouth, before he pulled back a few seconds later.

“I-” Baz stuttered. “Who knew you’d be gay for me, Snow,” He smirked, and with his cheeks and ears blushing a bright red and his mind gooey, Simon laughed.