#someone smarter than me please offer your suggestions

[xconsumedbymoss]

just imagining how different history would be if we changed what parts of the world found out about different alcohols. someone please give the ancient greeks vodka, let’s see what philosophy we get they’re drunk on tito’s instead of red wine

[hanasnx]

“ WHEN THE NIGHT CALLS ” — jason todd.

MINORS DNI 18+ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ WARNINGS: fem reader ノ established relationship ノ sexual content ノ p in v ノ objectification ノ possession ノ roofie mention but not in use ノ gun is involved but no gun play ノ bondage ノ size difference ノ name calling: bitch. NOTES: for @xstarkillerx who drove me wild with one single line.

It takes a lot to please the ARKHAM KNIGHT, most will never know what his approval is like. You are of the few that receive it consistently. Sometimes it's even multiple times a night, frequently.

The HQ is full of bustling militia, passing around beer through strobing lights they crafted from old torches. Their leader was reluctant to let them celebrate, and without several external factors he never would've conceded, but you have a way of persuasion. "If you don't let your men cut loose once in a while, you'll overwork them. They're about to roll into Gotham, let them have this." you believe you had said. Apparently, he'd seen reason through his frighteningly iron grip on this project, or he'd seen your tits in his favorite cami. Either way, you pat yourself on the back.

Your visitation to the keg was met with several hungry men staring you down, offering you compliment atop compliment, one even brave enough to clutch his hand over yours on your cup to bring to the mouth of the nozzle for a refill. They're not stupid, they know you're spoken for—at least in some small way. The most clueless ones may be in denial over the fact you have a special relationship with their boss, but for most it's clear to see that the Arkham Knight stakes a strong claim over you. It's reinforced by your honeyed verbal gratitude towards these desperate men that's immediately followed by your loyal sauntering right over to where the Knight sits. Some deflate with a disappointment knowing you're sweet on them only to return to where you belong, others are smarter than that.

You tilt your head at your disinterested lover, slouched and knees spread in some makeshift throne the boys threw together. The mouth of his heavy handgun strokes up and down his thigh as the digital eyes of his mask watch past you as you approach him. Those gloved fingers tap in a graceful line at the armrest, beginning from his pinky to his thumb in a wave. Despite your hard work in coordinating this, he doesn't seem to be having any fun.

Your thumb swipes at the liquid at the corner of your parted lips, sweeping the bottom one to the side, letting it bob back in place. A motion he takes note of, and finally recognizes you're coming his way, visibly adjusting in his seat to afford you some room. You take the invitation, twirling on your heel to seat on his other thigh, the muscle pressed flush against your sex through your little skirt. A protective arm rounds you, resting the weight of his hand on your bare skin, the tip of his finger toying with your skirt hem. "I don't like that you wore this around them." he speaks into your ear, low and digitally grated. You both know the kind of people he's had to hire, and he's not fucking stupid. His men look at you the way dogs look at fresh red meat.

"I figured it would be alright. You know how to break a jaw, remember?" you reply slyly, an impish grin stretching your smile into something near dazzling. You raise your cup to take a swig, but you glance at him confusedly when the tip of his gun intercepts you, guiding the rim away from your mouth and back onto your lap. With furrowed brows, you inspect the foam of the beer, wondering if he'd seen someone slip you something while they were giving you a refill. Would they be that stupid to do it in front of their boss with eyes like a hawk? You don't know, but you set it off to the side just to be sure.

"Don't like that I'm supervising this thing either. We should be tying up the loose ends." he murmurs, tucking you further into his hard armor. The grip on your thigh suggests he wants to do more than tie up loose ends. A familiar thrill shoots up you, centering in your core, that sensational sting of a memory roots there, making sure you remember what it's like to be filled.

"Why? You wanna tie me up or something?" you suggest playfully.

You didn't think he'd take you seriously. His quarters don't have a headboard, but he didn't seem too worried about that. "Oh—Oh! Jay... Jason, fuck..." you sigh, a dense and gooey pleasure between your legs rolling your pretty eyes into the back of your head. The noises of sex fill the room, skin slapping skin, drenched pussy getting fucked loud and proud.

"Yeah? Yeah, pretty girl, you like that?" he replies with a haughty snicker, peeling your tepid hips off the sheet to meet his own. Big hands grasp the flesh of your backside, lifting and yanking you onto his dick as your tits bounce from the motions. "So wet. You were asking for this, struttin' around in that little outfit—" An obscene groan reverberates from his throat at the memory, throwing his head back as his whole body flexes. Your bound hands lay underneath you, rough rope biting into your skin in a most delicious way. "Fuck, baby, push me off if you don't want me to cum all up in this cunt." You mewl pathetically, squirming in his grip only for him to laugh at you. His gorgeous body rolls under your gaze, deliberate and slow, licking your insides with his fat cock. "Yeah, bitch, take it. Take it just like a fucking fleshlight. Let those cucks know you're cuffed."

[egg-emperor]

Since eggy paid off his debt with vector with his booty, it makes one wonder how many other debts he paid off or how many pickles he got out of that way 👀

That's literally one of my favorite concepts ever lol so yeah I certainly like to imagine he has done it multiple times over the years 🥴

As a villain and mastermind, he of course has many options in getting what he wants/refusing to repay any kind of debt etc both violent and smart and he also enjoys them a ton but in desperate horny times, he'll take the much naughtier option and offer himself. With a big plump butt and large mouth with big tongue like his, I imagine most people he offers such services to are interested in giving him a try, even if they were acting like they can't stand him. He finds many are secretly fascinated and curious 👀

This being a solid go to method he's used a few times is his excuse for why he really knows what he's doing and is clearly experienced in getting on his knees for someone and servicing them. Not only does he satisfy them and get out of tricky situations, he also uses it as his excuse to be a slut lol. Hoping that they'll see it as something he only does out of pure desperation at his limit because he doesn't often wanna admit to himself and others that he can enjoy being in the more submissive position

But he seems to enjoy it a little bit too much, the way he'll really exaggerate and play up the act of being vulnerable and desperate and at his wit's end on what else to do, even though they know he's way more dangerous and smarter than that and definitely has other options. XD He seems too into it with the way he'll beg and plead, takes his glasses off and bats his lashes at them while saying "ohhh please, I'll do anything else you want to repay you!" as he throws himself back, or gets down on his knees, or practically throws himself into their arms.

This dramatic fucking gay ass pose that I can't stop thinking about all the time is literally a prime example of what I think of lol it's so good

That is an absolute faggot I cannot put it lightly ahfoahdghakf

He's very manipulative and a good actor but they don't expect him to use it in this way, in such an unexpected situation for him. They know he's trying to be sweet and persuasive and really trying to play into and appeal to a fantasy but he definitely seems waaay too enthusiastic about it for it to all only be an act. There's definitely some truth to it and they don't believe that he's this good at it just by the amount of times he's decided to use it as a way out of situations like this... Though he has also done just that a good few times and likes it hehe ;)

I also see him pulling this same tactic even when he doesn't owe them anything, such as when he's on the ground defeated and an enemy walks over to him supposedly to finish him off, he'll be like "Ohh please don't kill me, surely there's some other way you can take out your frustrations on me and find some release!" And well he's not exactly very subtle in what he's trying to suggest with that when all they can see of him when approaching is his big fat ass in the air with legs spread and presenting to them when he's lay there like this lol

I'm just obsessed with using these two images and happy to bring them out again to provide some visuals fhsngksjgjs

[finniestoncrane]

Riddler's Little Helper: Arkham!Riddler fic

Ok, but what if Edward had a girlfriend, and he learned to be patient, and he taught her the names of all of the tools he used and she handed them to him? And what if he told her she was a good girl, because don't we all need motor oil daddy to tell us we're good?

Sickly sweet one-shot because I want to snap the goggles on this idiots forehead and then kiss it where it stings >:(

You can read this on AO3 also!

“No, not that one my sweet. The adjustable wrench. Quickly!”

He looked behind him, away from his work, and offered a smile, trying to correct the tone in the room. It wasn’t just to help him to maintain his patience with her, but to encourage her to keep up the work they’d been doing together. If he was going to be down here working, he wanted her here with him. And the idea of having an assistant, someone to rival the clown’s lacky, it made him feel important. For the first time in his life, he felt like a somebody.

It wasn’t just that she was interested in him either, though that had shocked him at first. No, it was the way she looked at him. Eyes wide, an expression of awe every time he finished a project. A wide smile and dreamy eyes as she listened to him talk, discussing his plans and traps. The way she touched his shoulder and told him how smart he was when she couldn’t get the answer to his riddles. She hung on his every word. She appreciated him. She was impressed by him.  

“Is it this one?”

“Don’t ask me. Practice your confidence, dear.”

“Ok, here.” She handed him the wrench and he grasped it high up, grazing his fingers against her hand as he took it from her. “The wrench.”

“See, you do know it. If only you were as confident in your own abilities as you were in mine.”

She blushed as she smiled, her cheeks pushed so high by the widening grin that her eyes became scrunched up. It’s how he pictured her when he was alone, his favourite of her facial expressions. He was lucky to have her, and he was thankful for her. Thankful that he had been able to push past his own prejudices when she had approached him at the coffee shop, offering her input on the crossword he was working on. “Oh, sorry, I just happened to see it over your shoulder and thought you might need help.” He had scoffed at the notion, ready to turn and tell her that she should mind her own business, and that if he needed her suggestions, which by the way were completely incorrect for so many reasons, he would have asked. But when he turned around, mouth open and ready to dole out the insult, his breath caught in his throat, and all he had mustered was a weak, crackled thank you.

A while it sounded quite mean, it had been shocking to him at first that he could have so quickly become enamoured with someone who, at first introductions, had little in common with him and who he had assumed was intellectually inferior. He frequently had to remind himself that she wasn’t stupid, she was intelligent in ways that he hadn’t valued before. Ways that he himself had never worked on, or considered working on. Ways that he actually found pointless and irritating in others usually. What good were emotions? What benefit was there in being forthcoming and charming? Why bother being polite and friendly to people when you can be smarter than them?

But in truth, it’s what he needed the most, and she brought it in spades. She was bright, charming. Her laugh made his heart flutter. Her skin was always warm, whether she was placing her soft palm against his cheek, wrapping her arms around him as he worked at his desk, or her lips were pressing on the back of his hand. She didn’t need to be asked to provide the constant validation he was forever seeking out, she just did it. Because she valued him. She saw his genius, saw how important he was and would be. It seemed like every second word she offered was a compliment, praise, approval. He lapped it up, and before he realised, he was simply lovesick.

“Ok, I need the needle-nose pliers next.”

“Please.”

“Please. Sorry.”

She dangled the pliers in front of his face, resting her chin on his shoulder.

“Ok, what next?”

She was always eager to help, just happy to be involved. He was certain that just her presence, ever cheerful and positive, had increased his life expectancy by several years. She was good for his mind, body, and soul. And good for his work. He’d found it difficult to hide the excitement when she asked him to tell her the names of the tools he was using. It was adorable, a bit irritating because everything went a bit slower, but her constant questioning “what’s this one for?” made his heart skip a beat each time.

“Next, my sweet little helper, is the circular saw, but the smaller one, yes?”

“Got it!”

She skipped off around the corner and he watched her out the corner of his eye. He smiled as he worked, foregoing his usually intense and focused methods for a swift resolve, the quicker he finished the quicker he could take a moment to have with just her. No work, no thinking, no worrying. Just holding her close, feeling the warmth, how clean she was, the way she smelled. Being able to stop the obsessive, intrusive thoughts for just feelings of love. Being held by someone, seen by someone, loved unconditionally by someone. For the first time.

And even though it had been less than five minutes since she’d bounced off to fetch his tools for him, he still stopped, placing the tools down carelessly, and reached into the desk drawer. Lifting several notebooks up, he pulled out a picture, edges frayed from being handled so often, despite it being a relatively recent picture. He held it in both hands and leaned back in the chair, admiring it lovingly. They were in the park, she having forced him into the daylight for a date, a picnic. The notion amused him. They had eaten below some trees in the shade, and for the two hours they sat and chatted, he hadn’t worried at all. About anything! He didn’t need to prove his worth around her, show her how smart he was. She knew, she implicitly and seemingly instinctively knew everything good about him, everything positive.

So in the calm, in the reprieve from his compulsion to be the best, the smartest, he let himself be loved. He placed his head in her lap and the ran her fingers through his hair. She smiled down at him as he looked up at her, hands on his chest, head completely and blessedly empty of any thoughts but wondering if it would be ok to kiss her. And he didn’t even need to work out that conundrum for very long, because she had leaned down and pressed her soft, sweet tasting lips against his and pulled away quickly, clearly embarrassed. On raised elbows, he had strained his head towards hers, foreheads pressed together as they smiled, sharing several more kisses together.

And she produced an instant camera, right after this moment of pure bliss, and captured his first feelings of devotion, and the first time he had ever felt like he was the best in someone’s eyes. And each day since then, sometimes several times a day, when he missed her, which was often, he brought out the picture and held it to his chest, imprinting the memory onto him, fresh.

At the sounds of her footsteps approaching, he put the picture back into the drawer hurriedly. She rounded the corner, confident in her strides, and placed the circular saw onto the desk with a smirk.

He smiled back at her, nothing but joy in his heart.

“Good girl.”

[saturnsummer]

worthy.

When Sol gets a GPA of 2.02, the study group (and Joon Hwi) comes together to cheer her up. 

notes: another prompt by @thenerdywriter ! i wasn't sure if you meant it like this, but i hope you are satisfied! thank you for your prompt and your trust! i do apologise for the wait!

not much fluff or cliche romantic scenes, but just simple things that i hope when you read, remember your worth and never be defeated. you are worthy, loved and deserving to be appreciated. :) inbox always open!

for anyone who have sent prompts and asks, i thank you for your ideas! i have read through all your asks and am so excited to begin writing, but please understand if i can’t reply you as fast as i hoped! so sorry for this, i’ll try to address my inbox faster!! any mistakes or incorrect information will be taken responsible by me. enjoy!

edit: everyone, please don’t cry on this omg I’ve made 5 people comment their tears now and im terribly sorry for the tears.. I meant for this to be a light hearted story but looks like everyone is crying,, I’ll try not to make people cry now..

original prompt: where joon hwi and the rest of the gang shake some sense into her (sol a) about her self-esteem. 

words: 2787 words

Sol is downstairs at the lounge, holding a clear bottle of soju. She takes another swig from the plastic bottle, hoping that the alcohol can numb her heart like it does to her head. It burns, and she’s turning woozy, but she grumbles and takes another swig. 

2.02. She’s passed, at least. But she can’t help but feel upset. She wasn’t upset that she couldn’t score as well as Yeseul or BokGi, but upset that she’s satisfied with these low results. No one is going to hire her, even less offer an internship while looking at her track records. 

Sol worked her ass off for this exam. She nearly died, if it wasn’t for Yeseul’s reminders to eat. Even her cold stoned face roommate bothered to place bottles of water on her desk. Yet, after all this... 

“Why are you still up?” She hears Joon Hwi ask as he takes a seat next to her. She stays silent with a grim expression and turns away. Joon Hwi was the last person she wanted to see, especially when she’s in such a bad mod. 

“What’s wrong?” He asks as he catches her arm just as she’s about to chug her soju. 

“Everything.” She slurs. “You know I’m not even upset with my GPA? I’m upset of being happy with my shitty grades.” Joon Hwi sighs, attempting to grab her bottle away.

“I should have never came to study. I should have never tried to prove myself to be Dan!” She scolds louder. Sol knows she’s drunk in front of her best friend, but she can’t control herself. She doesn’t care. 

“Kang Sol...” Joon Hwi stands up, grabbing her bottle away from her. “You’re drunk. Go back.” 

“I don’t belong here, anyway.” Her slurs catch Joon Hwi in his steps. 

“I never once belonged with any of you. Being with all of you just drags you all further. I should just stop burdening you all with my questions and rot in a corner. Besides, no one would care.” She softly says, her voice filled with regret and guilt. 

Sol has always felt this way. Ever since she was young, Dan was always the star child. She got top grades while Sol got through in the middle rankings. Dan was always more popular, prettier, smarter. Sol learnt at a young age that no matter what, she would always be overshadowed by Dan. 

Thus, she learnt to be quiet. Only ask questions when she really needs to. Stick to familiar people. Only be loud when told to, and blend in in every situation. She learnt to depreciate herself, because no one appreciated her in the first place. 

Joon Hwi wants to shake her. He wants to write an entire dissertation on why Sol belongs to Hankuk. He wants to show her what he sees: a smart, caring, passionate lawyer-to-be. He wants to show her what he sees when she testified for Professor Yang in court. A confident, woman knowing her morals and rights.

“Kang Sol.” Joon Hwi says, pulling her up by her wrist. Sol pushes him away, but her touches are sloppy and weak. Sighing, Joon Hwi knows that it is useless to argue about her grades and her worth when she’s not even half conscious of what she’s doing. 

He grabs her coat lying on the couch, finding her phone and plans on calling Yeseul. But it’s past 1am, but he doesn’t want to trouble Yeseul. Sighing, he contemplates calling her roomie but reality smacks when he realises she’s home. Noticing how Sol is slowly nodding off, giving in to the fatigue, it leaves Joon Hwi not much of an option to carry her back.

Fishing the room key out from her coat, he takes special care in carrying her, sweeping his arm under her knee and lifting her slowly as to not disrupt her from falling asleep. The key card is in between his fingers as he slowly and quietly makes his way up to her dorm. He thanks the deities above that no one caught him or interrupted him. 

Tapping the key card, a standard ‘beep’, he pushes the door with his back, and takes care to get him and her into the dark room. He can barely see anything, especially since he has no hands to on the lights, but he makes out his way in the small room using the moonlight and what he can tell. 

Joon Hwi knows which side Sol sleeps, knowing from her stories that include her rolling from the bed up to the desk. By now, Sol was sleeping soundly, a slight snore escaping her. Gently, he sets her down on her bed and reaches to take her shoes off for her. Hanging up her coat that he placed on top of her whilst he was carrying her, he finally pulled the thick blanket over her.

But he didn’t leave just yet.

“I never once belonged with any of you.”

Sol’s words echoed in his head more than he thought it would. He stopped and bent down silently by her bed side, taking a few moments to wonder to himself just how and why does she feel so unworthy.

He grabs her bottle of water from her bag, before putting it next to her phone, which is on the table. Knelt on the floor, he observes the slow rise of her chest and the way her eyes flutter and nose twitch when Sol sleeps. Just how can someone like Sol think she’s any less than what he sees?

“You belong here in Hankuk. I’ll show you just why.” His whisper barely audible, as he brushes away a stray hair on her face. With that, he takes his leave and sneaks back to his dorm. (Without getting caught)

-----

The next day, after two painkillers and a big bowl of hangover soup (left mysteriously by someone at their pantry), Sol is headed to study group. She is running a few minutes early than their scheduled timing, but she’s surprised to find the group huddled in hushed whispers. 

“What are you all looking at?” Sol asks, as she sets her book at her usual corner opposite Joon Hwi. BokGi lets out a startled yelp and Yebeom clamps his mouth shut. Sol isn’t surprised to see Jiho crowded there, but is even more shocked to see Sol B crowded with them too. If it was anything, Sol B wouldn’t crowd around and discuss things, unless it concerned herself, or benefitted her grades.

“What...” Sol leans over and raises her eyebrows. Yeseul’s eyes dart nervously and she breaks into a smile. The rest of the group just shuffles back to their seats murmuring under their breath.

“Nothing, unnie! They were just discussing on what to order for lunch.” Yeseul says as she walks over to Sol and takes her bag and books from her, before setting it on the table. “Unnie, shall we get coffees?” Yeseul escorts her out of the room before Sol could react. Sol assumes that it’s due to her hangover that Yeseul is suggesting coffee, thus just following and getting a cold brew and assorted drinks for the others. 

When she returns, they distribute the drinks and start discussing on what to study. 

“Noona, do you have anything?” BokGi asks, a little too enthusiastically. Sol is taken aback and lost for words. She usually just follows whatever the rest want, since answering her questions will take hours. Joon Hwi gives a sympathetic smile. 

“How about you share with us about a recent case? Remember the one that Professor Kim liked in particular?” Joon Hwi suggests. Sol grows quiet. Her? The worst student? Sol let’s out an uncertain laugh.

“Ah, me? I rather my roomie shares. She did better than me.” Sol says, then prepares a fresh document for note taking on her laptop.

“I didn’t do well.” Sol B says quietly, her eyes emotionless as usual, leaning back into the chair. “You did the best. Go on.” Sol is stunned and just nods uncertainly. Taking out her case notes and her reports that she submitted, she nervously discusses the topic on hand. She sneaks Joon Hwi a couple of questioning stares but he only pretends to not catch her eyes.

Everyone is enthusiastic, asking questions and when Sol is stumped, they jump in to help her. They suggest ideas and Sol has never felt so energised by their energy before. She find it fishy how Joon Hwi just sits back and she can feel him smiling whenever she makes a point right or figures out a missing link.

An hour later, when they are done expanding on Sol’s case and discussing, they break for a late lunch together.  Yebeom enters the room with bags of food, as usual over ordering. As they pass out containers of jjampong and jjajamyeon, Sol’s eyes light up when she saw the only thing that mattered in the whole order: her beloved pickles, in doubled servings. 

What Sol doesn’t expect is for JiHo to dump his packet of pickles on her container of noodles. 

“JiHo-ah, why...” Sol is dumbfounded for a moment as JiHo opens his pack of noodles to stir. JiHo only pushes up his glasses. 

“You can have them, noona.” Sol is even more dumbfounded. This was the first time JiHo has called her noona. She didn’t care for the honourifics, and JiHo could call her by her full name for all she cared. But hearing those words from Seo JiHo’s mouth, just made her think everyone was utterly suspicious today.

“Okay, everyone is being weird. What is this?” Sol announces, hoping her tone came out fun, with no hints of anger. 

“Nothing! We just know you’ve been feeling stressed, so JiHo decided to give you his share of pickles, right?” BokGi quips up, as he dives into taking the sauce to pour over the tangsuyuk, before Yebeom and him argue over pouring or dipping. 

Sol, still feeling suspicious, breaks her chopsticks just as Joon Hwi picks up a pickle from her plastic saucer to put on her noodles. Her eyes dart from his chopstick to his face, but he just nods at her pickles, expressions hard to read.

Sol crunches on her pickles, but it does nothing to soothe the feeling that everyone was aware of something, but her. 

-----

The rest of the week was a puzzle piece that Sol could not fix together.

She woke up everyday to a new message by Joon Hwi, sometimes sending her funny videos, or a simple “let’s get through this together”. She woke up once to her roomie handing her breakfast and coffee. It just didn’t click in Sol’s head to see the cold Sol B hand her a sandwich and coffee.

Their group chat was undoubtedly noisy, but even more so now. Something in common was how the more chatty ones would ask Sol for advice or chat and strike noisy conversations. She was used to the chaos, but she definitely didn’t feel used to having the attention on her.

As the group had earned different internships from small and large firms, Sol was going to be left in school alone, still applying and hoping for one to come her way. Her study group knew about it, and instead continued to encourage her about it. They avoided talk on their internships, and actively tried to help Sol. While Sol was grateful, she couldn’t help but wish that they would just act normal and not worry about her.

She chose to meet them for breakfast on the day of their internships. The meal was noisy as usual as they ate their sandwiches and gimbaps. They were dressed smartly in their suits with their briefcases. Sol made a fuss over everyone looking smart on their first day.

“Hurry up and eat, you’re going to be late for your internship!” Sol scolded BokGi as he and Yebeom threw comments back and forth. Everyone was off for theirs and ready with their jackets and bags. Walking with them to the door, she couldn’t help but feel like a mom to her kids, sending them to school.

“Noona! Check your table later in the libra-” Yebeom gleefully mused before BokGi clamped his mouth shut and JiHo (with much irritation) smacked his head silently.

“What?” Sol asks, turning to Joon Hwi, who was turning redder by the second. Joon Hwi closes his eyes, the same way he does when he’s embarrassed and looks away from her.

“Listen to Yebeom and check the table.” He says, finally looking at her. “We’ll see you for dinner then.” Waving a quick goodbye, the group walked away from her towards the carpark where they separated to the bus stops or in the direction of the train station.

“O-Okay…” she mutters, still confused as she carries her books and bag to her usual table at the library. She would have went to sulk at Professor Kim’s office for a while, but she instead chose to head straight to study. Professor Kim had enough on her plate and she wasn’t ready just yet to face Professor Kim with her mood.

There, at her table, lies her stack of books.

Normal, nothing out of the ordinary. Huffing out, she slumps her bag on her table, gathering the post its on the bar above the table. Most of them were just plain comments, like how she had to stop slamming her pen into her hand (it distracted students) or move out of the library cause there aren't enough seats. Opening her book on civil code, she was ready to start drilling her head before meeting Professor Kim. 

Then she spots an envelope, hidden between the pages of the book.

Carefully, she picks it out and looks on the cream white paper, the only ink on it her name, written in neat handwriting. She could recognise Joon Hwi’s handwriting anywhere. A slight scoff escapes her lips and several students turn in annoyance. Realising that this was probably not the best place to be in, she grabs her books and bags (and the post its) and leaves the library. She heads to the empty study room, where she knows she’s be comfortable at.

Opening the flap, she slips out numerous slips of paper, varying degrees of length and sizes. Some words were neat, some were a little messy.

-----

To: Unnie <3

Sol-unnie, you know you’re smart, right? Your grades may not show that you are the best, but I know you are! Whenever I hear you discuss a case with the study group, I know you’re trying your best to memorise and improve. Don’t give up, unnie! I will support you till the end!

- Yeseul 

To: Sol-A noona

Yah, noona! You have to stop injuring yourself, okay? You gave us a really big scare the last time when you started nose bleeding in the midst of study group. Noona, don’t look at your grades anymore! If a man like me can get through law school so far pretty well, you can too! Fighting, noona! 

Noona~ you’re really talented. The fact that you scored so well during the criminal law test and managed to spot the comma just shows for amazing you are! Noona, don’t be discouraged... seeing you discouraged makes us sad too. Your favourite dongsaeng is here to help you! 

- BokGi and Yebeom 

To: Kang Sol-A

You can do it. Review your cases before classes. Get your internship.

-JiHo

To: Sol-A

Live up to your name, will you? And sleep on a regular schedule. 

- Roommate

To: Sol

Sunbae, remember me? Stop doubting yourself and trust yourself. You’re smarter than you know and fit for court. I will support you from wherever you are. I’m grateful for you, for supporting me all this time. I think Dan would be proud of you, and so will the cookie Byeol. 

Sol, you are worthy in my eyes. So stop undermining yourself. You belong in Hankuk next to me. You can’t give up now.

-Joon Hwi

-----

Sol lets a smile creep on her face as she lets a small blush rise to her face. Holding her letters to her heart, she closes her eyes, reminding herself of the past week and her friend’s efforts to cheer her on. She knew no doubt it had to be Joon Hwi who convinced everyone there to write for her despite their busy schedule. For even Sol B to help out and bother about her, it warmed her heart to have her support.

Picking her book, she pinned her hair up as she started drill into her book with a new found confidence, fuelled by her friends supporting her. But most importantly, she felt worthy. She felt loved. She felt confident. She was hopeful.

(Everyone thinks she’s worthy in their eyes, but one just thinks she’s perfect.)

[plant-flwrs]

hi love, it's me again! i just can't get enough of your writing... i'm sorry to be asking for another fic, i guess i just can't help myself. lately i've been obsessed with the fake dating thing, so i was wondering if you could write a fred x reader (basically same reader as my last request, gryffindor, same year as ron) with that? like, maybe george knows they fancy each other and makes a bet with him so they start fake datig but realise they're in love with each other? aaa thank you so much, ly

bets off // fred weasley 

masterlist!

a/n: i used the same pronouns from the last request, hope you don’t mind!! i apreciate u sm ur always so active w my fics ily <3333 this is the first thing i’ve written in a while that i’m actually proud of so i hope u guys like it :D

summary: Fred makes a bet with George that entails fake dating you for at least a month. He never expected to fall in love with you. 

(5k)

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Competition was healthy. At least, that’s what Fred told himself as he looked at George’s outstretched hand, a cocky smile etching the boy’s lips. 

“Two weeks?” Fred asked, looking suspiciously at George.

“Two. Weeks.” George answered definitively, smirking at his brother. 

Fred considered this in his head. Two weeks to get you, someone who had never previously shown any romantic interest in him, to date him for at least a month. He doubted it would be hard, for he had never had any trouble getting girls to swoon for him in the past. A few winks and charming sentiments and you would be putty in his hand. With this air of confidence, he shook George’s hand.

“You idiot!” Lee, who had previously been silently watching the exchange, called from across the table, a baffled smile on his face.

George laughed, leaning back in his chair and looking at Fred like he agreed with Lee.

“What?” Fred asked, the overly confident look still littering his features.

“You can’t win with this one,” Lee explained, shaking his head, “you either piss off Ron when this goes right, you piss of Ron when this goes wrong, you come out the git for breaking a girls heart, or you come out the embarrassed git who was rejected by your kid brother’s best friend.”

“Hey,” Fred said, faking offence, “I never agreed to ask out Harry.”

George and Lee rolled their eyes, hiding smiles as they continued their homework.

Fred was not deterred by Lee’s warnings, for he had a plan to avoid all of that. He was simply going to tell you the truth.

He found you on your way to the green house, pulling you away from a Slytherin girl you were walking with.

“He just stared at her? Like he didn’t eve-” you felt an unexpected tugging, “Ah!”

You squealed, feeling your feet stumble under you for a moment as you gathered your wits again. You looked down at the hand pulling you, following it up to the face. It was Fred, which was odd, because you two were not known for pulling at each other in hallways.

“You’re going to miss Herbology!” your friend called out to you, a worried expression on her face.

“I’ll meet you there, save me a seat!” you called back to her, turning away and following Fred as he still dragged you.

“Fred? What are you doing?” you asked him, making no effort to move from his strong grip.

“Got to talk to you,” he said airily, barely looking back at you as he pulled you down an empty corridor. 

He let go of your arm, smiling down at you as you waited for him to speak. He didn’t take the hint, just looking at you.

“What did you want?” you glanced at your watch, seeing you only had a few minutes before Professor Sprout would start class.

“I have a proposition for you,” Fred drawled, a mischievous glint in his eyes as per usual, “what do ya say?”

You squinted your eyes at him, frowning, “I have to hear the proposition first.”

“Do you?”

“Yes, thats how propositions work.”

“I hadn’t realized,” he replied sarcastically, dropping his cool demeanor and letting some desperation seep into his voice.

“What do you want?” you repeated, slightly more annoyed.

“I may have made a bet that heavily relies on your willingness to do me a huge favor,” he said, a hopeful smile coming to his face.

“Oh god, Fred, what did you do?”

“George may have implied that I was in a dry spell when it came to girls,” he said, smirking, “and obviously that’s just not true. So, he suggested a bet to see if I still had my skills-”

“Your skills?”

“-yes my skills, would you listen?”

Fred leaned closer to you, his eyebrows raising as you rolled your eyes.

“Back to what I was saying,” he drew in a breath, dragging out this entire conversation, “George suggested a bet to see if I could still charm the ladies,” he wiggled his eyebrows and you quirked one of yours.

“Long story short-”

You interrupted again, “That was the short version of that story? Fred can’t we do this later, I’ve got class in,” you glanced at your watch. “two minutes.”

“No! Give me a second,” he ran a hand through his hair, putting his strong hands on your shoulders to keep you in place, “I made a bet with George that I could get you to fall in love with me in two weeks and date you for a month!”

You looked up at the boy, thinking he had gone off the end. He had to, either that or he was messing with you. Or maybe he had been slipped a potion of some sort.

“Fred,” you started, your kind tone giving Fred the impression you would agree to the plan, “you just waisted the very limited break I have between classes, successfully pulling me away from a very entertaining story about Snape, and probably making me late for Herbology.”

Fred groaned, throwing his head back in annoyance.

“I’m serious!” 

You pulled against Fred’s grip, but he kept you in place. His face lit up, obviously coming up with what he thought would be a great plan. He released you briefly, digging his hands in his bag and moving crumpled papers around. He pulled out a neatly folded piece of paper, brandishing it like it was a diamond. 

“This, my love, is going to get you out of Herbology this class period,” he said, unfolding the paper.

He revealed a blank piece of paper with tiny sparkles floating on the page. As he held it for a second longer, words began to form on the paper, writing something.

‘Professor Sprout,

Please excuse Y/n from Herbology this period, she came to me with a pain in her stomach and I gave her a potion to fix it. She stayed in the infirmary during the period.

-Poppy’

You had heard about these before, enchanted notes that were written in authentic handwriting and enchanted the reader to believe it, no matter what they said. Perfect for forging notes from teachers. 

You stared at the paper in awe, grabbing it from Fred’s loose grasp.

“Yeah, you’re welcome. That’s the last one I have,” he said, feeling a bit remorseful having to give it up. He had been planning to use it to get out of Ancient Runes tomorrow. 

You folded the paper again, putting it neatly in your bag and looking back at Fred.

“Alright, let’s go,” you sighed, allowing him to lead you to the great hall, through the courtyard, and out to the Quidditch Pitch where no teachers would be. 

You sat in the stands, overlooking the empty and wet field,

“You want me to date you for two weeks?” you asked, sounding reluctant.

“No,” Fred said, sounding annoyed, “I want to fake date you for a month, but we won’t start until two weeks from now.”

You squinted, looking out at the stands on the other side of the field. You were thinking about this, finding the cons to outweigh the pros.

“What’s in it for me?” you paused, hearing Fred’s groan from beside you, “I mean, this could ruin my friendship with Ron, I get the embarrassing reputation when you fake dump me in a month, I don’t see how this is benefiting me.”

“Ron won’t care, I promise you,” Fred said acting as if this was obvious, “he lets Harry ogle Ginny all the time. And as for our fake dumping, that can be totally on your terms. I just need to win the bet with George.”

“What do you get if you win?”

Fred had hoped you weren’t going to ask that, but he was realizing you were smarter than he thought.

“Three Galleons,” he lied, looking at your skeptical face in the corner of his eye, “fine, six Galleons.”

You looked expectantly at him, waiting for his offer.

“I’ll split it with you,” he finally gave in.

He was a little upset at having to share his future winnings, but once you agreed to the bet and squealed excitedly at the possibility of some Galleons, a smile spread on his face.

Fred began laying the groundwork the next day. He made sure to send you flirtatious smiles when George was looking, waving to you in the halls, and talking to you in the common room.

You, Hermione, and Ron sat at a table in the corner, the three of you poured over a chess match. Ron was successfully beating Hermione, watching her as she tried to remember the rules he had taught her over and over. 

“You can’t do that,” he said impatiently as Hermione tried to move a pawn backwards. His hand reached out and returned the piece back to where it was, and Hermione groaned.

You leaned back in your chair, closing your eyes and turning your head up towards the ceiling. 

“Hello,” Fred purred from above you, looking down at you.

You snapped your eyes open, not entirely used to Fred’s flirting yet. It took you by surprise most days, and he always managed to get you when you weren’t expecting it. You looked to Ron, gauging his reaction. His eyes stayed locked on Hermione’s frustrated face, arms crossed as he waited for her move.

“Hello,” you replied, turning your head to face Fred as he move to your side. 

He leaned against your chair, his hand supporting his weight as he wrapped it around the back of your chair. The top of his hip bumped into your shoulder, and you resisted the urge to lean away from him. It’s not that Fred Weasley was disgusting or anything, he certainly wasn’t, but he had a reputation. Fred wasn’t known to be faithful or respectful of the usual rules regarding relationships. He wasn’t tied down, and half the student body has seen him naked (or wanted to). You had gone through your phase of liking Fred, and that phase lasted longer than you’d like to admit. You refused to boost his ego, though, and felt determined to not let this fake dating get to your head. 

Ron was still busy with his chess match, now watching Hermione’s focused gaze turn into a nervous one as she became aware of Ron’s eyes on her. She bit her lip, tapping her fingers on the table.

Fred glanced down at you, quirking an eyebrow and nodding his head towards Ron. He was showing you that Ron wouldn’t care if you two dated, testing Ron’s limits.

Fred’s hand moved slowly from the back of your chair to your shoulder. His slender fingers pressed gently on your clothed arm, moving to brush a piece of hair from your neck. He twirled a piece of your hair in his fingers, raising an amused eyebrow at Ron’s lack of reaction.

“Merlin, Hermione! I’ve taught you 100 times!”

Hermione scoffed, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms.

“Ron!” she exclaimed back, offended.

“Look,” he moved his hand to one of her pieces. He whisked it across the board, then one of his pieces, and then one of Hermione’s, and then one of his own, “Check.”

“Maybe if you had patience and didn’t stare me down every time it was my turn-” Hermione started, glancing to you for support.

Her eyes widened when she saw the somewhat intimate position you were in with Fred, her sentence dropping. 

“If you didn’t take so long, I wouldn’t stare you down!” Ron huffed and pushed his chair back, standing suddenly.

He hadn’t even glanced at you and Fred, missing Hermione’s shocked expression.

“What are you doing?” she questioned Fred, sounding even more offended than when Ron was yelling at her a moment ago.

“What?” Fred replied nonchalantly, pushing his body away from yours and taking Ron’s seat.

He moved the chair closer to the table, purposefully brushing his knee against yours. You knew he was watching your face, so you kept a neutral expression.

“He was all over you,” Hermione whispered to you, as if Fred wasn’t right in front of her,

“So?” you asked, acting as if it wasn’t abnormal for Fred to ‘be all over you’.

You were internally cringing at the whole thing, at Fred’s forwardness, lying to Hermione, the whole situation.

“Something must be in the air today,” Hermione said to no one in particular as she stood from the table, “everyone’s lost their minds.”

She left you and Fred, leaving him with a smirk on his face.

“I think that went well,” Fred said, moving the pieces on the chess board around swiftly as he set it up for a new game.

You moved to Hermione’s seat so you were across from him, rolling your eyes. 

“This is ridiculous, Fred,” you said, and at the sound of your genuine annoyance his eyes were on your face.

The board in front of you was set anew, white closest to you. You let yourself sit in your frustration for a moment, looking down at the board and moving a pawn. Fred made no move to his own pieces, just staring at you from his side of the table.

“What d’you mean?” he said, watching your hand retreat from the board. 

“These public displays of affection- isn’t it a little ridiculous?” you said, locking your eyes on the game in front of you.

A look of hurt flashed across Fred’s face, not that you would have seen it, and he cleared his throat awkwardly. His hand lazily moved one of his pawns.

“I don’t think so, no,” he said, leaning back in his chair and still studying your face, “I think they’re quite effective.”

“They’re only effective because I’m playing along,” you moved another pawn, hoping Fred would take the bait so you could steal his pawn.

“Which I appreciate fully,” he said, leaning forward and moving his pawn exactly where you wanted him to.

You stole his piece, advancing on the board. He hadn’t even registered the game, frankly, only looking at you.

“I feel like-” you didn’t know what you felt. You hadn’t put it into words, but you knew you didn’t like it.

Fred, and older, charming, handsome boy, was showing you a new amount of attention. Fred, a boy you had a crush on almost the entire time you’ve known him, was sending you flirtatious winks in the hallways and being very affectionate. Fred, your best friend’s older brother, was trying to date you to win a bet.

“-nevermind,” you finished, realizing you could not say any of this aloud. 

Fred had a quizzical look on his face, watching you as you silently sat across from him. You met his eyes for the first time since he sat down, swallowing hard. You stared at each other for at least a minute, neither of you moving or breaking the contact. His eyes had an intensity in them that you had never seen before, but they were also gentle and kind. He looked soft, his face illuminated by the faint candle light and fireplace, casting a yellow hue over his skin. His hair was grown out and pushed off his forehead, falling easily on the sides of his face. He had taken his tie off, though still in his school uniform, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His mouth, usually in a resting smirk, was thin and straight, making him look rarely serious. 

You felt like it took ages, but you finally broke his stare and cast your eyes downward at the board. You looked back up at him, seeing his eyes unmoving from your face.

“Your move,” you said, raising an eyebrow. 

Fred’s eyes shot to the board, and he moved the first piece he saw. His mind was racing as he tried to collect his thoughts, all of which were about you. 

He had no idea what happened, but his heart was beating incredibly fast and his hands were sweating. Fred, a man who had never once done anything serious, was feeling very serious. He didn’t know what was going on inside his head, but all he knew was that he thought you were remarkably beautiful. You were perfect, really, and he could not wait for this game of chess to end so he could get the hell away from you. 

Fred had never been in any sort of serious relationship. He had never dated a girl for longer than a few weeks, usually doing something that offended them (that was often mentioning how hot another girl was, or, in the worst case, snogging said other girl). He didn’t care for anything long-term, anything serious, because he couldn’t be bothered to find anyone that interesting. You, however, made his hands sweat. No one had ever made Fred’s hands sweat. No one had ever made Fred’s mind run blank.

He blinked at the board, realizing it was his turn again, and felt like giggling like a school girl. He shot his head up, looking around the common room and pretending to be in a hurry.

“Have you got the time?” he asked, watching as you looked down at your wrist- eyes flickering to your hand, which he realized he wanted nothing more than to hold in that moment- checking the time on your watch and telling him. He sprang from his chair, “I told George I’d meet him in a few, can we continue this later?”

He hadn’t even waited for an answer before he was running through the portrait hole, nearly knocking a few first years off their feet when he bumped into them.

Fred disappeared from the common room, leaving you with the chess board.

For the next few days, Fred’s flirting was non-existent. He wasn’t ignoring you, but the entire dynamic between you had shifted; something changed. He wasn’t painfully arrogant, seeming to take more effort in the way he treated you. There was no inappropriate flirting, no lustful winks. You wondered if the bet was still on.

You found out soon that it was. 

You and Hermione left the library fairly late into the afternoon, but neither of you minded the time that got away from you. You spent the day doing very little actual studying, talking and laughing instead. There was a very few amount of people who could tear Hermione away from her studies, and she didn’t often like to admit that you were one of them. 

“Are you going to tell me why Fred was so-” she broke off, shuddering in some sort of disgusted way that made you laugh “-touchy with you the other day?”

Hermione had been pressing a little bit every time she saw you about Fred, and you had been avoiding it every time. 

“I still don’t know what you’re talking about. That was just Fred being Fred,” you insisted, rolling your eyes playfully. 

The guilt of lying to your friends left you a few days ago, instead you only felt overwhelming uneasiness as your schoolgirl crush for Fred resurfaced. You couldn’t help it; the hot older boy you had liked since your first year was suddenly putting himself in compromising situations with you. So, you couldn’t tell Hermione about Fred’ bet, because then you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself telling her about your genuine crush. 

“Really?” Hermione teased, bumping her shoulder into yours.

“Yes, really,” you insisted, turning the corner to the main staircase that was crowded with students wandering the castle on the weekend afternoon, “ I don’t get why your fixating on this, ‘Mione.”

Your words, however, fell on deaf ears. Her gaze was locked on something on the stairs beneath you both. You followed it, seeing the heavy stream of students starting to part. From your position, you couldn’t see much through the crowd, but soon the crowd thinned around you and you got closer.

Fred stood on the landing, a huge bouquet of flowers in his hands. You bit your lip, trying to hide the laugh bubbling in your chest. Such a grand gesture for a fake one-month relationship, this boy was determined to beat George and win those three Galleons. You felt Hermione clutching loosely to your arm, a dazed sort of look overcoming her features. You couldn’t help but laugh at this, prying yourself free from her grip and walking down the stairs to meet Fred.

He also looked sort of dazed, and with a quizzical expression you felt your face heat up under the stares of everyone in the stairwell. You came to the landing, looking up at Fred. His hand shook a little as he held the flowers, and he bit his lip harshly. 

“Want to go out with me?” he asked, a surprisingly earnest voice replacing his usual smug one. 

You glanced at your watch, moving to stand on your toes to reach him. You moved your mouth to his ear, speaking so only he could hear you, “You’re about a week early with this gesture, Freddie.”

He chuckled, and from being so close to him his chest bumped yours slightly. You fell to stand flat on your feet, still close to him. He looked down at you, holding the flowers between your chests. 

“I don’t like following schedules,” he said, grinning down at you.

You resisted the urge to wrap your arms around his shoulders and never let go, settling instead on a bashful smile. He handed you the flowers, the brown paper they were wrapped in feeling a little damp from how profusely his hands were nervously sweating.

When he made this bet with George, he had just planned on kissing you in some busy hallway to announce the start of your relationship, as he did with most of his relationships. Somehow, though, you felt more special. His stomach sank every time he thought about the limited and fake month he’d have to with you, but he forced his way through it. 

So he went to the field by Hagrid’s hut and picked the best flowers he could find, wrapping them in a brown paper and organizing them so they were perfect, because you were perfect. 

He looked down at you, watching you as you held the flowers up to your face and smelled them. Your eyes were light and filled with innocent excitement, giving him an enchanting smile that showed all your teeth; you looked incredibly and undeniably happy, and that made Fred happy. 

You had both nearly forgotten about the entire student body surrounding you both, watching the exchange. Fred, feeling unnerved by the vulnerability he had exhibited in such a large crowd, looked up and smiled smugly, wiggling his eyebrows. The entire staircase erupted in a somewhat jumbled mix of cheers and laughter, sending a deep red blush to your cheeks. Fred looked down at you, and in a moment of unfiltered happiness, brought his hands to your cheeks. He lifted your head from where you had ducked it to hide the blush, forcing you to look up at him with the embarrassed grin on your lips. Before he could think about what he was doing, his face was leaning closer to yours and his hands on your cheeks were pulling you closer to him. You barely had the time to register what was happening, only hearing the laughter and cheers around you get louder as Fred’s face was pressed against yours.

He was fast at first, passionate and quick as if he thought he only had a second before you pulled away. You couldn’t though, even though every bone in your body was telling you to. Your lasting feelings for Fred were telling you that this kiss was okay, that your friendship with Ron would take the backseat for a while as you let Fred press himself against you. Your thoughts were fading, being replaced with the hyper awareness of everywhere Fred was touching you. His lips slowed and his breathing became slower too. He let out a sigh through his nose, the air hitting your face and sending a brand new flush to your cheeks. His hands on your cheeks stopped pulling you towards him, now being a gentle and soft presence on your skin. His left hand was grazing your jaw, his calloused fingertips tickling the skin lightly. His right hand cupped your cheek firmly still, but his thumb rubbed against your cheekbone. You held the flowers in one hand, and it wasn’t until a few seconds into the kiss that you had even remembered you had hands. You rested your hand holding the flowers against his chest, tilting the bouquet so it didn’t hit Fred in the face. Your other hand snaked up his arm, clutching loosely at his strong forearm as it hung between your bodies. 

You were both at each other’s wills, you would do anything Fred and Fred vowed to himself that he would follow you to the ends of the Earth, if you asked him to. 

The spark moving through Fred’s body was nothing he had ever felt before. He didn’t feel it when he kissed Angelina Johnson, his first kiss, after winning a Quidditch match. He didn’t feel it when he drunkenly kissed Alicia Spinnet at a party. He didn’t feel anything close to this when he kissed Katie Bell in a game of truth or dare last year. You were completely new to Fred, and part of him already knew he wanted to spend every second with you from then on out.

You pulled away first, entirely and completely breathless. You looked up at Fred, mouth opening and closing like an out of water fish as you tried to find words to say in this moment. Fred just chuckled, bringing his hand on your cheek to graze his knuckles against your swollen lips. You closed your mouth, feeling okay with having nothing to say, and figuring it was better to not say anything anyways. 

The crowd registered in your brain, making you feel extremely embarrassed again. You shoved your face into Fred’s chest, hiding the flush all over your face.

“Alright! Shows over, you perverts,” Fred called out, smiling widely at the group.

You heard the shuffling of feet begin around you, the traffic beginning once again. A few wolf whistles reached your ears, and you didn’t remove yourself from Fred’s chest until you were sure everyone had moved on. 

Fred’s large hand rested on the back of your head, soothing down your hair. You found it oddly intimate, and you knew letting all of this happen was only setting yourself up for hurt when this bet was inevitably over, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

Pulling away finally, your flowers clutched at your side, you took a deep breath. You were bringing your gaze to look up at Fred, but a group of redheads standing behind him caught your eyes and made them widen.

“I am so telling mum you have a girlfriend!” Ginny squealed, her voice easily heard in the now empty stairwell.

Fred turned to face his family, seeing Ginny, Ron, George, Hermione, and Harry looking at him as if he’s sprouted five new limbs.

Ron elbowed Ginny, sending her a wide-eyed look, “my bestfriend is not his girlfriend!” Ron said confidently, then turning to Fred with a threatening look, “My bestfriend is not your girlfriend.”

Fred smiled nervously, “I’m not dating Harry, Ron,” he attempted to joke, only earning a laugh from George and an embarrassed look from Harry. 

You peaked from behind Fred, meeting the group. You smiled at them sheepishly, meeting Hermione’s baffled eyes.

“I knew it!” she called, causing the entire group to turn their heads to look at her, “I knew you fancied her.”

Hermione looked quite proud of herself, but Ron looked fuming. Harry had sort of a ‘I-saw-this-coming’ look on his face.

“Guys,” you said, stepping towards them, “Ron.”

You gave Ron a pleading look, prepared to embarrass yourself and set the whole thing straight, even prepared to lose 3 Galleons. Suddenly, Hermione stepped between you and Ron.

“Ronald,” she said sternly, snapping Ron out from his angry mood briefly, “I hope you are not about to prevent a lovely relationship just because you have no emotional intelligence or maturity regarding these subjects.”

Your eyes widened from behind Hermione, casting a shocked glance to Fred. George and Ginny stifled their laughter, saving an embarrassed Ron some of his pride after being scolded by Hermione. 

“But he’s my brother!” he whined, his anger leaving him and instead being replaced by some sort of tame disgust.

You couldn’t take it, every part of you wanted to tell them it was a bet, the galleons be damned. You looked to Fred with a warning look, only to see him digging in his pockets.

“George,” he called out, removing his hand from his pocket and clutching something, “catch.”

Fred tossed six coins at George, and George caught them with surprise.

“Bets off,” Fred said, looking painfully serious. 

You felt your breath hitch in your throat, an immense feeling of guilt wash over you. You had cost Fred six galleons, even after the work he had put in. He had kissed you for the sake of it, and you couldn’t go one month. 

“Fred,” you stuttered, looking at him with guilt

His mouth broke into a grin, however, and he took a few steps towards you. George watched Fred’s movements, and began pulling away the group. Ron, still standing there with a confused look on his face, was tugged away by the back of his collar.

“I don’t want to fake date you,” he whispered to you once he was close enough, tucking his hands in his pockets.

“Well, that seems like a lot of work for nothing, then-” you started, only for his lips to fall onto yours and silence you.

You couldn’t help it, again, as you let yourself melt into him. He pulled away all too soon however, resting his forehead on yours as he looked into your eyes. 

“I want to date you for real,” he said, biting his lip nervously, “not as a bet.”

Your eyes widened, and once again you could not think of anything to say. You opened and closed your mouth, searching for the words, but gave up. You gave a relieved sigh, hearing the words you had dreamed of hearing since you were 12, and kissed Fred Weasley. 

[creative-lampd-liberties]

"You're not small. You wouldn't understand" and “I may be small but I am mighty.” with Janus please ?

... I may be projecting...

I was going thru my stuff and I realized that I finished this but never posted it. Apologies for the delay @zozomind I hope you like it. I think you might have been asking for angst but it turned into drlamp snuggle time.

...as a small person, I may also have projected a bit 😅😅

☆☆☆

Janus was already in full rant mode as they came into the living room.  "I don't know how to explain to you that *I* am the *correct* height. *You* are just unfortunately tall. Both of you."

Roman, hot on his heels, rolled his eyes "I'm only five inches larger than you!" Remus giggled and Roman shot him a pained grimace. 

Janus sniffed imperiously. " You're not small, you wouldn't understand."

"I could make him shorter, if you want," Remus offered, summoning a meat cleaver.

"Do not." Roman growled and snatched it from him, vanishing it. Remus crossed his arms and made a face, pointedly pouting.

Janus grinned, wide and sharp. "Now Roman, There's always room for improvement." 

Letting out a huff, Roman threw his hands up in the air. "I'm not that tall! *You're* not that short!"

It was Janus’s turn to roll his eyes. "I'm not short, obviously, I'm small. Perfectly packaged." He waved dismissively at Roman. "But you are entirely too tall."

Remus perked up again. "Oh! or I could make *you* taller. Stretch your bones?"

Janus smiled blandly at him."You know what will happen if you try."

Roman groaned loudly  "You're both being ridiculous. Patton back me up here?"

Patton blinked up at him from where he and Virgil were piecing together a puzzle on the coffee table. "Sure thing, kiddo. What about?"

Janus jumped in before Roman could start. "I was just explaining to Roman that being small is not a disadvantage. That it is, in fact, the better lifestyle."

"Oh. Well in that case I hate to disappoint Roman, but I agree with Janus." Patton said.. Virgil snorted, which made Patton chuckle behind his hand. Roman gaped at both of them, spluttering.

Janus beamed at him, smug. "Of course you do. Being the appropriate height makes you smarter than all these freakishly gangly giants "

Patton shook a finger at him, trying and failing to school his expression into disapproval. "Now Janus, that's not nice. They can't help that they're not fun size like us!"

Logan, who had been watching the exchange over his book, frowned. "I'm not sure I'm understanding this argument. Are you suggesting there is a moral correlation to height?"

"No, of course not!" Patton assured, at the same time as Janus said, "Yes. Absolutely."

Logan set his book down, shifting firmly into lecture mode. "That's ridiculous. Height has no basis on personality."

"Well…" Roman hedged.

"And certainly no moral value whatsoever."

"Your mom's ridiculous and has no moral value whatsoever." Remus chirped. Roman whacked him on the shoulder. "What?" he whined.

Janus favored Logan with his least impressed look. "You're not small, you wouldn't understand. But then… you're not tall either are you?" 

"I am a perfectly respectable height." Logan protested. "It's the national average."

Janus nodded sympathetically. "Exactly. It's *average*. Shrink, then perhaps we can be friends."

This took Logan aback, face twisting uncertainly. "But we're already… aren't we already friends?"

Patton tutted, actually managing to glare a bit in Janus's direction. "Of course you are sweetie." He clamored up to pat Logan comfortingly on the shoulder. "We're all friends. Janus is just being silly."

"Traitor." Janus hissed.

Virgil gave up on the puzzle. Smirking, he climbed to his feet and snatched Janus's hat from his head. He held it just out of reach. "Is that your evil plot for today then? To confuse and antagonize poor Logan?"

Janus scowled at him. "You're lucky I don't bite you." He hissed.

"Was that supposed to be a threat?" Virgil grinned wider, and set the hat on his own head, still firmly out of reach. "It's adorable that you act like you're not itty-bitty. But you are, you're tiny, like a kitten."

Janus growled. "And you sound like someone who's *asking* to be bitten."

Virgil huffed a laugh. "Eh, I wasn't that fond of my ankles anyway."

"Careful." Janus's eyes narrowed dangerously. "I may be *small* but I am mighty."

A calculated look crept into Virgil's amused expression. "Uh huh. Sure, kitten. Y'know though, you are the perfect height…" he said, tone light 

"Damn right, I am!"

"-for me to do this!" 

Janus hissed and spat as Virgil scooped him bodily off or the floor, swatting ineffectually at his head. "Put me down this instant!" he growled. 

Virgil just turned to Remus, who was already cackling, and the two of them squished him between them. They planted matching kisses on each cheek as Janus squirmed, laughing when he flushed all the way to the tips of his ears and stilled, letting out a noise like a startled tea kettle.

Roman was watching with unabashed delight. "Why didn't I think of that. Patton, c'mere."

Patton all but lept into his arms, giggling. "Oh no! I'm caught!" He accepted his cheek kiss with magnanimity.

Roman carted him over to the group hug, Patton squirming his way into the center with Janus. "Hi." He whispered, beaming. Janus blinked at him like a startled deer.

They were only missing one side now. Remus was craning his neck to eye the couch. "You too, geek chic. Join the orgy!"

"Must I?" Logan wrinkled his nose, but when Virgil made grabby hands he went easily enough. They pulled him into the circle. 

Once they had him, the cheek kisses began in full force. Everyone got a fair share. Patton squealed and giggled and planted retaliatory kisses on his "attackers". Logan endured them with a stoic sigh and a small blush. But Janus resumed his squirming in force.

"Look, he's blushing!" Roman teased, punctuating it with another kiss.

"I am *not*!

"So cute!" This was Patton, and Janus managed to flush even brighter. Especially when Logan leaned in to kiss his forehead.

A petulant whine crept into his voice. "This is undignified. You're squishing me."

Virgil rolled his eyes. "It's called affection, Jan. It won't actually kill you." 

Patton bit his lip to contain his amusement. He gently squeezed one gloved hand in his own. "You get used to it eventually. Let's me know I'm loved."

Janus groaned dramatically. "Fine. I'll submit to your so called *affection*. Just remember, I know where all of you sleep."

☆☆☆

[bestiepetedavidson]

Can I request hcs what Pete would do when you're standing in the middle of the night at his door, after a break up with your now ex boyfriend? Thankss ❣

yes! this game me inspo and i’m going to try to do a written-out story if that’s ok! :)

a/n: y’all this is the first story ish thing i’ve ever written so i apologize if it’s really bad/cringey! i feel like it’s extremely choppy but idrk how to fix it. constructive critism/suggestions/etc is ALWAYS appreciated! thank u! <3

song to listen to: i’m thinking adore you by bestie harry? idk it just fits hehe

tw: angst? i think? idk this is my first time writing this much lol. some strong language. ending with fluff :)

it was almost 3 am on a saturday night, pouring rain and thundering, and you were left crying on your now ex’s doorstep. you ran into your car, soaking wet. your boyfriend/girlfriend of 3 years, the person you were gonna marry- had just dumped you. they cheated on you with your best friend.

you had no one to talk to and nowhere to go. you’re pretty introverted, and the only people you really had were your ex-best friend, your ex, and your friend pete. and pete’s friends too, technically. they were mainly his friends but you would all hang out together, none of which you felt comfortable enough to go to.

you called pete- no answer. he probably still hasn’t left 30 Rock. but anyways, he had a lot on his plate. you continued to bawl as tears rolled down your cheeks and your mascara smudged underneath your eyes. you broke down and you couldn’t stop. he/she broke your heart into a million pieces in the matter of seconds. the past 3 years of your life had gone to waste.

you decided to just drive. you didn’t have anywhere to go because you were staying with him/her. you just drove around aimlessly for 20 minutes, still crying the whole time. then, you got a phone call. “pete”, your phone read. thank god. quickly, you pulled into a random grocery store’s parking lot. you picked the phone up and your bluetooth connected to your car.

“y/n” pete said. he sounded tired.

“yeah?” you responded, still crying.

“what happened? is everything okay?”

you tried to explain what had just happened, but you were too much of a crying mess for him to make out anything you were saying.

pete, confused, told you “y/n, i’m sorry, i can’t understand what you’re saying”. he took a deep breath, and continued. “do you want to come over? i just got home from work. we can talk it out”. his voice sounded worried

you agreed and hung up, and set your google maps to his apartment address. you started to blast a random spotify breakup playlist and drove.

~

a little later, at around 3:40, you finally made it. still soaking wet from the rain, you took the elevator up to his floor. you had somewhat calmed down, but you looked like you’ve been through a trainwreck. you knocked on pete’s door and he opened it to see you in your current state. the moment you saw him you just broke down, and he pulled you into a hug without saying anything.

so there you two were. just standing in the middle of the building’s hallway, hugging. in the middle of the night. he didn’t care that you were getting him and his clothes wet, and he didn’t care that he couldn’t go to sleep. he was simply focused on you and what was going on. he softly rubbed your back, and every time you would start shake uncontrollably again, he’d just hug you harder.

eventually, he suggested going back in. “y/n, let’s go inside and sit. you can tell me what’s going on and i’ll do my best to help.”

he held the door for you to go in, and you walked in and sat on his couch. he sat right next to you and there was a moment of silence before he decided to speak up. “hey.. y/n look at me. please.”

his words only made you cry more. he place his hand on your chin and slowly lifted it, giving you a slight “please tell me what’s going on” smile.

you took his hand off of your face and held on to his thumb. you were luckily able to get a hold of yourself and explained to him what had just happened, crying in between sentences. he didn’t take his eyes off of you for a second. he stayed there and listened to absolutely everything you had to stay, his thumb still in your hand. by the time you were done, any trace of makeup that was still on your eyes was a done deal, and it was all smeared on your cheeks. he took a deep breath and gave his opinions.

“wow.. y/ex/n is a fucking scumbag. no like seriously, what the actual fuck. who would do that? and especially to someone like you.. y/n you deserve so much better than that piece of shit. fuck him/her.”

you cried, and responded with “no, he/she’s right. i wasn’t worth it and y/bsf/n is so much better fit for him/her. she’s so much prettier and smarter and just better”

pete took a second. “y/n that is so fucking wrong. you can’t say that about yourself. you are beautiful and smart and amazing in every single way. anybody would be lucky as fuck to date you.”

you simply shrugged, he knew that he couldn’t technically change your mind and that you weren’t in a state to really believe that, so you just let it be. he took both of his hands and cupped your face.

“you are perfect.” he tried to wipe your cheeks with his thumbs but it only made things worse, spreading it all across your face. you looked across the room at that large mirror he had hanging on the wall and went “ah”, making fun of the way he made it look.

“hey, at least we have matching raccoon eyes now” pete said, smiling. to that you giggled, and he responded with “gahhh, there’s that smile i love”, as he hugged you again.

still sniffling but now with a smile on your face, you whispered “thank you” in his ear.

“anytime. and listen, you don’t get to talk about my best friend like that.” he responded

sending him another smile, you went to his bathroom to wash your face.

best friend, he said. nothing more.

while you still loved your ex boyfriend/girlfriend, you always secretly had a crush on pete. it was ever anything you would’ve acted on though. first of all, because of your friendship. you wouldn’t want to ruin the way things were. second, because you were dating someone. you loved them and you wouldn’t just cheat... but apparently they would. and did. third, you had just had your heart broken. you were in no state of mind to just go and admit your crush. but god, was it tempting. and it’s not like if you were to, you would want to start dating him. he most likely wouldn’t like you back, and even if he did, you wouldn’t want to date. you learned that you needed to take things slow, and pete knew that about himself too.

you walked back out, and you noticed that pete was in the kitchen, making tea. he knows that you love it. he saw you glaring and smiled, going “what? you love it.” you started to giggle because pete is absolutely not a tea person, but the gesture is just so cute. “shut up,” pete jokingly went, “we’re watching spongebob to help calm you and you’re sleeping here tonight”

“oh petey! how you’re just the sweetest!” you mocked him, smiling at each other.

you went to his closet to get a bunch of blankets, and soon enough, y’all were sitting & cuddling on his couch, watching spongebob on his couch, drinking tea, and cuddled up in a multitude of blankets. you were still worn out from sobbing and very tired, but. it was the perfect comfort spot. he always knew what to do. he was your comfort person.

he started smoking a blunt, (that’s pete for you) and he offered if you wanted a hit, but you declined. smirking, he decided to put it out. after an episode, it was already 4 am. you knew he was tired and so were you, so you suggested going to sleep, but pete insisted that y’all finish the episode. neither of you were really paying attention but it was kind of just playing in the background.

pete starts talking about random stuff going on, life stuff, making little jokes, the SNL show that he just did, etc etc. he’s sitting back on the couch and you’re on his side, head on his chest. you’ve cuddled platonically before so it’s nothing new. you’re both watching the screen and going in and out of conversation. at some point, you lift your head up off his chest, and you just stare at him while he’s continuing his story. he doesn’t really notice you getting up, and continues to talk about a recent standup he did.

watching his face, his jaw moving, talking, the way he speaks and the way his voice sounds, something changes in you and you feel the urgent need to kiss him. he notices that you’re looking at him. he turns his head and looks down at you. the second he notices that you’re staring at him, his words slowly fade out and he just looks into your eyes, forgetting what he as saying before. you’re still in his arms, but your head is up and you’re just staring at each other. there’s about 5 inches between your faces, and your heart starts racing. his does too.

“pete” you quietly whisper.

he softly presses his lips into yours and you kiss him back. his hand runs through your hair. his lips are perfect and it’s like you two were made for each other. the kiss lasts for like 10 seconds, and he slowly pulls away. you’re both at a loss for words, and you’re still staring into each other’s eyes. pete, breathless, quickly glances that the digital clock underneath his tv.

“wow,” pete says. “i’ve been waiting for as long as i can remember for this to happen and it happens at 4:20,” slowly creeping up a smile.

“i kno-” you start to respond, when you fully realize what he just said. you cackle out and can’t stop laughing, neither can he.

you pull him back into you as you’re both still giggling and you softly make out for a little longer. eventually you fall asleep in his arms, right on his couch. with spongebob still playing in the background :)

i hope u enjoyed my very first mess of a story <3 requests are open!

🤍🤍🤍

[wandering-travesty]

Call Me By Your Name

    You weren’t sleezy. That was just a word idiots used to try and pull you down to their level. Yes, your hair was slicked back. Yes, your eyeshadow was dark as the night. Yes, your suit jacket barely covered your chest. Yes, your nails were painted black and sharp as daggers. But, no, you weren’t sleezy. You were dressed for your job. What was your job? Well, that was a bit more complicated….

 “I need you to get close to him.” Erwin said coolly, stubble covered chin resting on his strong hands.

 “I’m sorry?” You asked, genuinely hoping you had too much wax lodged in your ear canals.

 “You heard him.” You met the glare of the midget standing behind your boss.

 “Okay, smartass, I did. But you can’t be serious, boss! He’s beyond dangerous. Shouldn’t someone like,” you gestured in Levi’s direction, “one of the Ackermans take care of this? I’m not discounting myself or anything, but fucking with a Yeager is basically a suicide mission.” You were actually shocked Erwin asked you to do something so important. More so, dangerous. You weren’t exaggerating when you said it was a death sentence. You’d lost enough comrades to know that.

 “Listen, he’s the key to taking down the Marlian Syndicate.” You knew that, but still, this seemed out of left field. “The Ackermans are strong, yes, but they lack a certain…”

 “They’re not ready to whore themselves out. Just say that, Smith.” You understood now. The Ackermans were cold blooded killers ready to strike at any moment. However, they were awkward and completely inept at things like lust and heated and frankly revolting rendezvous. That was how he wanted you to get information for him.

 Erwin wanted you to fuck the leader of the Marlian Syndicate.

 “I wouldn’t use that wording exactly, but your assumption is correct.” Levi couldn’t seem to meet your gaze, but Erwin continued to stare straight into your soul. He was the leader of La Peste Eldienne (The Eldian Plague) for a reason. Strong, debonair, charming, and slightly insane. He could down a beer in one swig, sip a martini all night long, or abstain from alcohol completely. Whatever he needed to do, he did. He murdered, sent the idiotic young and the hopeless old to their deaths just the same, and could absolutely wine and dine a stranger until their clothes practically flew off their body if it was for the cause. You needed to be like that. Especially at a time like this.

 “I’ll do it. And I’ll do it well.” You assured your boss and his partner. Yeah, this would be easy. You could go low as the scum you were about to completely fuck over. You had been climbing up the ranks as of late, so this would be easy as pie.

Before going on your little date: you made a mental note of the main players you would have to deal with. The list you had went something like this:

Porco Galliard: Complete idiot. All brawn, no brain. Basically a bouncer with a fancier jacket and a higher salary. No worries about him doing anything funny.

Pieck Finger: The sweet little thing they kept around for good reason. Part of you wished you had to deal with her instead. She was witty and had a surprising amount of control over the shipments of cocaine and ammunition that went on about the city. Her pretty face and calm demeanor hid her true genius. She was one of the more concerning figures at tonight’s gig, but also one of the one’s more willing to hear you out before killing you.

Colt Grice: Basically a smarter but weaker version of Galliard. He was really only part of the Syndicate to learn from the best and become a great mafioso one day. You had high hopes for him, despite yourself.

Bertholdt Hoover: A freakishly tall mix of the last three members of the gang. So sweaty and shaky he wasn’t allowed to handle guns under any circumstance. That told you all you needed to know about his threat level.

Annie Leonhardt: Tiny, quiet ball of rage and skill. Could murder you in an instant, but would only do so if ordered. Not a concern unless someone else found you out, or you didn’t like being glared at all night.

Reiner Braun: His personality changed with the passing minutes. Could be calm and almost kind, or could snap your neck like a twig in his giant ass hand. He was a wildcard, and a dangerous one. Though he was obsessed with following orders and being the perfect little soldier boy, so you didn’t need to worry about him if no one told him to start shooting.

Yelena: Even more freakishly tall than Hoover. Also freakishly obsessed with the gang leader and his “master plan”, whatever the hell that was. Maybe you would find out tonight. Anyways, she would only do anything if you threatened the boss in any way. If you did your job right, that wouldn’t be an issue.

Eren Yeager: Easily the most brash and idiotic member of the gang. His problem was that he was trigger happy. In this business, trigger happy meant dozens of dead innocents piled up on the club floor in an instant. You had to be careful around him. Unlike most of the others, he would kill you without thinking.

And the top dog. The man of the hour. The man you had to seduce:

Zeke Yeager: Think Erwin but with more wit and charm. Not to mention more of a sadistic mindset. His favorite game was cat and mouse, seeing how long it took before he had a good excuse to have someone drawn and quartered. His expertise was slow torture that the victim didn’t even really know was happening before the barrel of the gun was already pointed to their temple. And you had to fuck him so stupid he leaked confidential information.

 The only other issue with Zeke was his habit of sleeping around. Yes, he was a tramp by most standards. A harlot with exotic tastes. You had heard stories of him seducing women and men alike, and god only knew what they did once he succeeded. What that meant for you was he would be hard to impress.

 So, you were here to beat him at his own game. And if you were found out, his younger brother would most likely shoot you on the spot. That was, if one of the others did it first. Or even worse, Zeke decided to be a tried and true asshole and torture you to death. The options were endless, and you hated them all.

 So there you sat, ass perched on a bar stool, sipping on a gin rickey and waiting for your opportunity. The room smelled strongly of tobacco, rum, and cinnamon. At least you would die surrounded by what you loved, you thought, laughing grimly to yourself. Men and women danced to slow songs you faintly recognized. The air buzzed with haughty laughter and upper class small talk. You barely had any idea how to interact with high society shitheads as high and mighty as the ones Yeager surrounded himself with. You weren’t often sent out to jobs like this. You were like Levi, born in the slums and never taught how to properly behave. You knew what you had to, much like your knowledge of the goings on of La Peste Eldienne. You knew your gang traded drugs, ammunition, and whatever else was a hot commodity at the time, but nothing other than that. You were actually quite glad to know nothing, since that made you a pretty unimportant person to rival gangs. Not as many death threats and kidnapping attempts came your way, unlike the ones Erwin, Hange, and Levi got every day. You were quickly pulled out of your thoughts on the gang hierarchy.

 “Excuse me, miss. The boss wants to chat with ya’ real quick.” A man with greasy hair and green, catlike eyes softly gripped your shoulder. Considering what you knew of Galliard, you figured that grip wouldn’t be soft for much longer if you didn’t do as he suggested.

 “Oh, alright. Did he happen to mention why?” You were genuinely curious. Porco didn’t offer you any solid answer, but there was a reasonable explanation.

 Zeke wanted to get his rocks off. Parties could be interesting, with the right people, of course. The right people hadn’t happened to show up that night. You, on the other hand, seemed interesting. To be frank, you were gorgeous. Even from a distance, he could tell there was something behind your eyes that spelled trouble. He loved people like you. Vicious, cunning, witty, all hidden behind an uninterested and bored demeanor. Those were the people he wanted around him. The best examples were Pieck, and surprisingly, Levi. They seemed to be completely different people than the ones hiding behind their eyes, and Zeke loved to see how long it took to break them down. Well, he was a bit kinder to Pieck, but you and Ackerman got the rough treatment.

 “Zeke, what the hell’re you doin’?” Eren pulled him out of his rather disgusting thoughts of…things better left unsaid.

 “I’m going to talk to a woman, Eren. What does it seem like I’m doing?” Zeke had a sharp tongue and quick wit, which he didn’t spare even his brother from.

 “I get that, but why that one? She seems…shady t’me. I wouldn’t let ‘er get too close, y’know?”

 “Eren, please be rational.” Zeke held a palm out in front of Eren, as if to physically stop his train of thought. “You and Yelena will shoot at the first sign of danger, so inviting this lovely woman to join us for a harmless chat isn’t a danger in the slightest.” Zeke reassured his brother, neglecting to tell him his true intentions. He was sure that would just make him more upset and skittish, which was dangerous for everyone there.

 “’Kay, boss. Got the dame ya’ asked for.” Porco trudged to the brothers’ secluded table with you in tow. He had kept one hand on your shoulder and the other right above your ass. The two main reasons being: one, he didn’t want someone so seemingly important to escape his grip, and two, you had a nice ass.

 “Ah, thank you Galliard…you can let her go now.” He gave Porco a knowing smirk. He let you go immediately and walked away, cheeks slightly reddened. Zeke didn’t want someone else touching his new toy.

 “I’m sorry if this comes off as rude, but did you need something from me? That man made me leave my gin at the bar and I would like to finish it at some point.” Oh, Zeke was going to love you. You weren’t flighty or scared in the slightest. He knew you had seen some serious shit. Not to mention how you cared more about your alcohol than a dangerous mafia boss and his younger brother ordering you over to their table. You were attractive and relatable. What a catch.

 “My apologies, Galliard tends to be a bit, how do you say, brutish. Feel free to order something new and sit down with us.” He gave you a smile that told you it wasn’t a suggestion. This guy was already just as bad as everyone had told you. He hailed a waiter over to the table. You knew that wasn’t some kind gesture, rather a show of how much power he had over everyone there. His long, thick fingers and suave smile also showed you how easily swayed you could be by dashing looks and raw power.

 He held himself like a king but talked like a philosopher. At the same time, he was down to earth yet still slightly condescending. You never knew where you stood with him, and he liked it that way. His flaxen hair was parted down the middle, and unlike most of the men there along with yourself with their hair hardened with pomade, it was fluffy and moved as he gestured wildly when he spoke. He tended to talk with his hands, once again drawing attention to just how attractive they were. His face was indescribably beautiful. His eyes were like stormy oceans cascading with passion and intrigue. His lips looked soft and plush with a wonderful roseate hue. His beard was well groomed and framed his sharp jaw perfectly. His gold rimmed glasses had a habit of hiding his eyes when thrown into direct light, which often happened with how he talked with his whole body. The way he constantly made direct eye contact with you had you lost in a daze of desire and fear. Was this all some sick ploy to get you to slip up and get everyone you loved killed along with yourself? Or was he seriously that interested in you?

 Eren was quiet most of the time, unless Zeke spoke to him. He didn’t like you. You were too similar to Zeke for his tastes.

 “Say, Eren, could you pass me a smoke?”

 “Oh, so you do have vices. See, you never ordered a drink for yourself, so I assumed you were a man above pleasures of the flesh.” You flashed a toothy grin at him, signaling that it was just playful banter. You two were both rather good at that.

 “My dear, the more you get to know me, the better you will understand just how enthralled with earthly pleasures I am.” He winked, and it sent you to the moon with want. How could a man be so gorgeous, charming, dangerous, and sadistic all at the same time? And why did you have to deal with it? You needed him out of his right mind, but it seemed like that could never happen. Whether it came from alcohol, drugs, or sex. You planned to use a mixture of all three. As you continued your playful jabs and taunts at each other, you found your opportunity to seal the deal. One sniff of the white stuff and he was putty in your hands.

 “Now you know, Mr. Yeager, gin isn’t my only vice.” You kept your usual sly tone.

 “Oh really? That is quite the interesting thing to say.” He matched your energy perfectly. This was too good.

 “Have you ever happened to try, well, what do they call it these days? Well, I tend to call it blow. Snow, stardust, snort, sugar, crack, whichever you prefer, I suppose.” Oh, how brave of you to mention your own trade to your top competitor.

 “Why, yes, I have indeed partook in snorting blow. Is there any reason as to why you’re asking me that right now, darling?” You wished he would stop with the pet names. Or rather, you wished you would stop loving them so much. It felt dirty to enjoy your enemy’s company to this extent.

 “Well, I was wondering if you might like to sneak off and try some of my personal mix.” You leaned in close, covering the side of you mouth with your hand. Eren wasn’t a bad kid or anything, but he’d mess with your plan, and you couldn’t have that. Especially not with his slippery ass trigger finger.

 “Your own personal mix, eh? Don’t tell me you’re involved in the trade, now.” He leaned in just shy of touching your lips. “That wouldn’t be very good for either of us, sweetheart.” That’s it, you were fucking this man if it was part of your plan or not. The entire thing could go south, and you’d still want this man’s dick in your mouth. You didn’t really care anymore. He was too hot to handle, and you were this close to cracking under the pressure. Zeke was right, you were fun to play with.

 “Not at all, I just happen to know the right people.” You grinned at him, knowing you technically weren’t lying. It was your own little inside joke, or so you thought.

 The next thing you knew you were in Zeke’s penthouse, smashed up against the wall with a hand around your neck. By all accounts, this is what you wanted, but it was also quite the opposite.

 “Dearest, I find it insulting that you think I would fall for that pitiful act.” He had you figured out from the moment you walked in. Zeke Yeager never forgot a pretty face. He’d wanted to have you naked in his bed for months, and here you were, all helpless and needy. You were adorable, thinking you could get whatever you wanted from him.

 “Smith was a fool to send anyone, let alone a little minx like you.” You hated how good being insulted by this bitch felt. How did he make it so that your panties got wetter every time he called you a different synonym for whore? It was so awful and so amazing.

 “I’m the slut, yet you’re the one actively trying to fuck me? Do I have that right?” You quipped the best you could from under the pressure of his strong hand.

 “Alright then, we’re both sluts. But the difference between us is that I admit it, yet you pretend to be this perfect little princess in order to fuck powerful men like me.” His grip on your neck tightened as if to add injury to insult.

 “Don’t insult me,” you had to catch your breath between each word, “I fuck men ten times more powerful than you.” But, god was it worth it. You figured he might slap you or otherwise reprimand you, but no, the bastard just smiled wide. What a fucking asshole.

 “Maybe to you.” He widened his cheshire grin. “Maybe you think Erwin’s more powerful. That he has a bigger cock and sucking it will get you further in life.” He pushed you further into the wall. “Or maybe letting Ackerman smack your ass will earn you some cash. Or having Zacharius sniff around your cunt instead of your neck will rise you up the ranks, hmm?” You just grimaced at him, knowing none of it was true. “Or maybe,” he let out a chuckle, “letting Zoe do whatever the hell they’re into will get you more coke and gin.” He was mocking you, ruthlessly, with no signs of stopping, and without letting you get a word in. You were starting to see black spots in your line of vision.

 “Well, fucking with me will get you much more, angel.” He finally let your neck go, letting you fall to the ground, left to look up at the devil in front of you.

 “You fucking suck.” You glared at him, not necessarily trying to hide how much you were enjoying this. As it happened, you weren’t some innocent angel. No, you weren’t a sadistic maniac like Zeke, but you knew what you wanted, and it wasn’t necessarily vanilla. As if reading your earlier thoughts, he bent down to your place on the floor.

 He slapped you, and it wasn’t gentle.

 “You’re a sloppy whore on your best days, now get up and strip.” Well if worst came to worst, you could say that you got him where you wanted him…just not exactly how you wanted him, or with a guarantee you would get what you wanted out of him. Honestly, you felt kind of flattered by his attention and apparent need to fuck you.

 “God, do I have to do everything for you, sweetheart?” Apparently you had been standing around catching your breath too long for his liking. He had made quick work of his own jacket, shirt, and dress pants, leaving him in a black pair of boxers. You hated admitting how magnificent he looked. He was muscular, but not in the same way someone like Reiner or Erwin was. Every single limb on him was lengthy and wiry, thus the bruise marks forming on your neck. While on the subject of length, from what you could see, it applied to his cock as much as it did his other appendages. If it looked that good through the black fabric, you couldn’t even dream of what it would look like out in the open, slapping against his defined v-line and abs.

 You hadn’t even noticed him getting closer to you, completely forgetting about his earlier demand turned complaint.

 “Not only are you a harlot, you’re a useless one, as well.” He came close enough for you to smell the hints of smoke, pine, and black tea that wafted off of him. He started playing with the collar of your shirt. “But damn if you aren’t a pretty one…” He said that more to himself than you, clearly not being comfortable complimenting you. He saw you as a toy, a pawn in his game of chess he was playing with the rest of the world.

 You decided that would be your last deep thought as he began to undress you. Nimbly moving his fingers down each button of your dress shirt, until it came completely undone and bore your chest to him. You were by no means flat, which seemed to entertain the man in front of you.

 “I knew you’d be the perfect slut for me.” He groped your breasts through your bra, hands greedy with the clear goal of making you yearn for him. “Perfect tits, soft skin, pretty face, nice ass, strong will. Yeah, you’ll be fun to break.” He gave you one of his signature smirks, making you want to crush his windpipe and deepthroat his dick at the same time.

 You shrugged your top off your shoulders and let him snake his arms around your chest to undo your bra and expose your tits to the cool air of the room. He didn’t waste time kissing your filthy mouth, and instead skipped straight to your sensitive neck. He slowly dragged his soft lips down your throat, kissing his way over to both sides and under your jaw. He licked and sucked at any area that made you gasp or let out some embarrassing little noise you tried to desperately to hide. He hated how you hid, he needed you to need him, to want him at a level beyond human comprehension. He wanted to destroy you, do break you down to your most animalistic and pitiful form. You were strong, that was for damn sure, but he wanted to fix that.

 He took all this into account as he began nipping at the tops of your breasts. He moved from one to the other with no clear pattern. He dragged his tongue down to your right nipple, only touching the tip of his tongue to it, making you shiver in anticipation and let out a small whine. Yes, that was the progress he wanted to see from you. He swirled his tongue around it, slowly making his way to the center, harshly sucking it into his mouth. He pulled his sinful mouth away from you, leaving a trail of saliva connecting him to you. He quickly made his way to your other nipple, doing the same and driving you just as wild.

 “You know, it wouldn’t hurt you to make more noise, darling.” He teased, sounding genuinely annoyed with you.

 “Well, maybe if you did a better job, I would be louder.” You had discovered your talent of keeping up with his smart mouth, and you used it to your advantage. You wanted to rile him up; to get a rise out of him. As previously stated, you didn’t want a vanilla little love making session, you wanted to fuck.

 “Alright then, if you’re so keen on keeping quiet,” he put his rough hands on your bare shoulders, pushing you back onto the ground, this time on your knees, “how about I stuff that mouth?” You hated how good he was at turning you on.

 He pulled his dick out right in front of your face, letting it lay on his toned abs, just as you had envisioned it. It was easily 10 inches long, 5 inches thick, with a slight upturn that could drive you insane if it hit the right spots, which it would. It was flushed pink and dripping pre-cum; it was pretty.

 “Well, are you just going to gawk at it or are you going to make yourself useful, slut?” The sweet pet names were out the window, swiftly replaced with the most debasing insults he could think of. To avoid any more of his smart ass remarks, you took his thick cock in your hands. You slowly stroked it, taking in exactly how big it was. You moved your plush lips closer, giving it a few small kitten licks to test the waters. You kissed the head and gave longer licks up the side, earning a grunt or two from the man above you. As you began to swirl your tongue around his tip, his strong hand came down and pushed on the back of your head. It wasn’t gentle, forcing you to take him down your throat. Considering his size, it was no shock that you choked on it at first, but he kept his hand on your hair, forcing you to stay on him.

 “That’s it, sweetheart, keep that dirty mouth on fat cock.” Tears starting pooling in your eyes as you struggled to breath around his length. “Aww, are you actually crying?” He cooed, taking sick pleasure in mocking you. “How pathetic of you, darling.” His words send shockwaves of shame and pleasure down to your core. You abhorred how badly you needed him inside of you. As he let out a low moan, he pulled you off his cock, tugging your hair just enough to make you even wetter.

 “Alright, angel. I’m not a big fan of blowjobs, so we’ll leave it at that.” You coughed a little as he bent down to your heaving form.

 “Really? That’s a shock.” That was your genuine reaction. You were far too fucked out to be a smart ass at this point.

 “Yeah, you’re not the first to make that observation.” Much to your surprise, he picked you up bridal style, barely breaking a sweat in the process of getting you to his bedroom. Though the lights were on, you couldn’t take in many details, your cock drunk state making it difficult to process anything other than the warm, bare skin of the monster you tried so hard to vanquish.

 “Now, lets get these cute little panties off, hmm?” You had forgotten him taking off your pants in the heat of the moment. His menacing figure loomed overtop of you, slowly sinking down to your thighs. He placed licks and kisses all over them, leaving a few bite marks along with them. You moaned louder than before, feeling too blissed out to care about your pride. You felt large, tepid fingers hooking themselves between your legs and into your panties. He pulled them to the side, wanting to really take you in. Despite his lust for power and dominance, he much preferred giving head to receiving it, especially when it came to women and their soft, tender pussies. You were no exception to this rule.

 “Goddamn you’re fucking wet.” You looked up at you, making you lean your head back to avoid his gaze. “You must like me more than you care to admit, sweetie.” Just after saying this, he ran one long finger up your dripping slit, coating his fingertip in your slick. He looked at it shimmering in the low light of the room, grinning before taking it into his mouth and tasting what your cunt had to offer.

 “You taste like heaven. Surprising, considering what a nasty girl you are.” Unlike you, he could keep that smartass act up for hours on end, no matter how lost in your sex he was. He landed a chaste kiss to your throbbing heat before flattening his tongue to lick a fat stripe up the middle. He began to devour you, making the lewdest noises you had ever heard in the process. You felt amazing, and disgusting, and just about every other emotion you had ever felt in your life. He was a god at eating your pussy, feeling no remorse in having his lips and beard dripping with your juices. To hell with the burn marks he left on your thighs and the burning sense of guilt you had for moaning so loud and creaming all over the face of your greatest enemy. Shame and guilt were for foolish children with no place in the world, Zeke wanted to enjoy every last second of destroying you.

 As he continued to lick and suck at your most sensitive spots, you began to feel your stomach tighten, signaling your closeness. Zeke noticed as well, taking note of your erupting moans and groans and tugs at his silky hair. He moaned on your clit, the vibrations sending you over the edge. You came all over his face, arching your back of the soft sheets and making you scream his name. He kept his lips attached to your clit as you came down from your high, keeping you ensnared in his trap of bliss.

 “God, you moan like a fucking whore, you know that?” The way he insulted you felt disgustingly good, especially coming from such a obnoxiously handsome man.

 “And you eat pussy like a god.” The veil of hatred came off in one foul swoop. You couldn’t hold back how you truly felt about Zeke Yeager. You were in love with the way he treated you, and spoke to you, and ate you, and soon enough, fucked you. He was so damn good, and you just hated to love and loved to hate him.

 “Oh, do I now?” He let out a low chuckle, taking pride in how helpless and stupid he had made you. “Does that make me your god, pet?” It wasn’t a real question. He knew the answer, and he loved that answer: yes.

 “Now, how about I partake in some earthly pleasures and fuck your brains out, sweetheart?” He questioned, moving his arms up to rest on both sides of your head. His face was right above yours, lips hovering over your breathless, panting ones.

 “Yes, please.” Your eyebrows scrunched together as you grew impatient and needy as all hell. Zeke had a sinister idea. God was a nice term, but he could think of a better one.

 “How about you beg daddy for it?” He was such a disgusting pervert, and he relished in it. You mustered all the strength you could in order to speak.

 “Please fuck my pussy, daddy.” That was all he needed to push himself inside your tight heat. Your walls clenched as he thrusted balls deep inside of you, not caring if you needed to adjust or not. Luckily, you didn’t, despite his size.

 “Fuck yes, angel. You’re so goddamn tight.” He thrusted into you with reckless abandon, using you more than making love to you, which is exactly what you both wanted. Your walls clenched and throbbed as he brought you to orgasm once again.

 “Cumming all over my cock, sweetheart? Such a dirty whore.” He teased, continuing his motions, hitting your g-spot over and over again without much issue. His dick was perfect, reaching every inch of you that made you scream out in pleasure and overstimulated bliss. All of this for a few bags of cocaine and bullets. You weren’t even thinking of that as he pounded into you, getting rougher and sloppier than before. He was getting close to his own high just as you were about to reach your third. No one had ever made you feel like this. You never wanted to let him go. Fuck everyone you cared about, this was too damn good to throw away.

 “Where do you want my cum, slut?” He asked seconds before climaxing.

 “Wherever you want it, daddy.” That was exactly what he wanted to hear. You had been molded into the perfect toy for him, even if it was just for the moment. He had debased and perverted you, like putty in his hands. You thought you could just waltz in there and take what you wanted from him. But no, instead you were writhing around on his bed with his fat cock filling up your pussy while you screamed for your daddy. You were filthy, slutty perfection. He quickly pulled out of you and shot his cum on your stomach and chest. Noticing you were still squirming around, he pushed his thumb to your clit and rubbed circles as two of his fingers entered you and hit your sweet spot.

 “Come on, slutty girl, cum for daddy.” This time felt different than the others. You were completely out of your mind with pleasure and lust, and he was hitting just the right spots. You came around his fingers, squirting your juices and ruining his sheets. As if he could sense it, he had moved his face down just in time for it to reach his mouth, coating yet another layer of your cum on his beard. He licked his lips, savoring you taste and the blissed out, fuck drunk look on your face. He wished he could keep you like this forever. No, he would make sure to keep you like this forever. You were going to be his for the rest of time, no matter what it took. Even if he had to play the long game and pretend you had a choice in the matter.

 “Well, sweetheart, I’m afraid you have to go home empty handed. I’m sure those tarts will just pat you on the head and congratulate you for trying your best. That’s why they’ll never surpass me, and that’s why you will come crawling back to me.” You couldn’t respond, too disappointed and drained to say a word.

 “I have a shower that I recommend you use.” He looked down at you, your eyes hazy and barely focused on him. You were completely exposed to him. You looked beautiful. “In an act of civility, I’ll let you sleep here tonight. On a different bed, of course, considering the damage you’ve done.” You laughed at that, and he followed suite.

 “You know Zeke, for a monster, you’re not too bad.” You looked at him, admiration clear in your eyes.

 “You’re not too unbearable either.”

[loving-daisy]

Cry For Me | George Weasley x Reader

Masterlist | Cry For Me Masterlist 

Chapter 8 - I Can’t Seem To Hate You

Words: 3.6k

Warnings: angst, bullying

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“Why in Salazar Slytherin, is someone like you doing outside of here?!” The blonde 4th year Slytherin demanded after the sight of a Gryffindor loitering around the dungeons made him stop in his tracks. 

But like a true Gryffindor, and a true Weasley, the ginger paid him no attention causing Draco to get annoyed. “I’m talking to you!” He added, crossing his arms. 

The tall 6th year merely gave Draco a glance, shaking his head. “You really should learn how to mind your own business, Malfoy.” 

Draco Malfoy being...Draco Malfoy, wasn’t going to let his guard down just like that. As much as he despised Gryffindors, Weasleys, and what-his-family-calls-”blood-traitors”, he knew the reason why one half of the Weasley twins were around the place where Slytherins gather. He knew the reason why George Weasley was standing outside his house’s common room. And after forming a new bond with the Slytherin queen, he wanted nothing more but to protect her. 

The blonde Slytherin stood tall, his face displayed into a sour scowl, getting close to the ginger before voicing out his threat. “You listen here, Weasley. If you don’t want me to call Professor Snape, you best be on your way out of this place and never come back. Ever.” 

George took a step back, scoffing, before his eyes landed on Y/N Icestone’s best friend who was making her way towards the common room entrance. “Greengrass!” The ginger called, waving his hand. 

The girl stopped in her tracks, her eyes landing on the Gryffindor then to Malfoy then to the Gryffindor again. Daphne and Draco made a brief eye contact, the girl almost immediately understanding the blonde’s intentions. The girl cleared her throat, brows raised as she pointed to herself. “Me?” 

George nodded as an answer. “Yes, you. Can you call Y/N for me? Please?” He pleaded, his eyes soft as if he was desperate to get out of Draco Malfoy’s presence and get into the arms of the girl he loved. 

Daphne shook her head. “No-”

“I’m here. What do you want?” A voice, her tone as cold as ice, monotonously said. Three heads turned towards Y/N Icestone who had a blank expression on her face. Three faces were shocked to see her make her presence known, in those three, the two Slytherins were on the verge of pulling her away from the one who was on the verge of pulling her away to demand an explanation. 

“Y/N-” 

Icestone pierced her cold eyes to the brown warm ones. “You have no right to address me with my first name, Weasley.” 

George Weasley was speechless. He didn’t know what to do, he didn’t know what to say. Millions of thoughts started to run in his head, trying his best to put them all together like a puzzle piece, to know why Y/N Icestone suddenly had a change of demeanor towards him. 

The girl scoffed, rolling her eyes. “You know, if you’re going to waste my time-”

“What does this mean?” The ginger blurted out. Suddenly, his hand was going through his robe pockets to fish out the note the girl had sent to him this morning. 

Y/N’s lips curled. “Are you suddenly blind that you can’t even read anymore?” She questioned, giving a brief look at the letter, seeing remnants of cream in it. 

George was starting to lose his patience. Honestly, George didn’t know what he was feeling at this moment. He didn’t know if he was happy because Y/N Icestone was still talking to him or if he was mad because none of the words coming out of her were giving him the satisfaction. “I’m serious.” 

“Hi Serious, it’s really not a pleasure to meet you. Now if you would please get out of my face and go back to whatever nasty place you belong to, I would be delighted.” The girl remarked before making her way towards Daphne, linking her arms with her to pull her towards the common room. 

“Listen, Y/N-” George was once again cut off by Y/N.

“One more thing, Weasley. Do not ever talk to me again. Ever.” She quipped, finally walking away from the ginger. 

Before Draco was able to give another threat, he too, was cut off by the girl. “Draco, let it go. Come now.” 

And there George was, alone and defeated, his last sight being Draco Malfoy’s threatening glare. 

____________________

“She won’t talk to me! She doesn’t want me to explain. At all!” The younger Weasley twin complained, arms crossed as he took a seat beside his sister at the Gryffindor common room. 

“I actually wouldn’t blame her though.” Fred expressed, shrugging, earning a glare from his brother.

“I mean, imagine finding out that your boyfriend was actually just pretending to like you to make you fall in love with him...I’d throw a fit too, honestly. Wouldn’t you, Ginny?” He mumbled to not draw attention. Although most students of Hogwarts have heard the news of Y/N Icestone dumping George Weasley. Some say that she dumped her for someone younger, someone like Draco Malfoy perhaps, seeing as the two Slytherins suddenly got so close. Some say that the Icestones gave the Weasleys a huge amount of gold in exchange for George staying away from Y/N, seeing that the Weasley’s reputation isn't good enough for the Icestones. Some even say that they knew that the two would never last. Gryffindors and Slytherins don’t really match afterall. 

“But I was just wondering how…” Fred paused in thought, careful with his words. “She wouldn't have confronted you about it earlier if she already knew about it…” He trailed off, giving off a confused facial expression.

Ginny sighed, rolling her eyes. “It’s obvious, Fred. She wanted George to feel what she felt.” She advertised, earning a nod from Fred in agreement. “She’s smarter than I thought.”

“Yeah, and mean!” George grunted, shaking his head from left to right. “I can’t believe that I actually fell for her! I should have known.”

“Oh think about it, Georgie. It was basically you who started it.” The older ginger gloated. 

“Me?!” George challenged. “It was you! You were the one who schemed all this! You were the mastermind behind this!” He exclaimed. 

The sudden outburst coming from the group of Weasleys seated together caught the attention of everyone in the common room. Those gossiping started to gossip even more, their topic diverting into the Weasley twins. Those studying paused to watch the exchange. I mean, who doesn’t want to stick their noses up to family drama? 

“You’re actually blaming this on me? Well, you were the one who agreed to do it! I was only suggesting it!” Fred affirmed. 

“Suggesting?! Are you hearing yourself right now, you dimwit?! You practically forced me to do it! Saying that we’re gonna get revenge and prank the shit out of Slytherin’s stupid pride!” 

“Merlin’s beard, will you two dimwits please shut up!” The female Weasley grumbled, standing up from her seat after slapping the backs of her brother’s heads. “It was both of you! The both of you were to blame! Now please, if you want to fix this, you guys make up and actually apologize to Y/N.” 

The common room erupted into murmurs after hearing the Slytherin's name. Good information for a good morning gossip for tomorrow’s breakfast at the Great hall. 

“Boys are so annoying.” Muttered Ginny, before stepping away from the scene. 

____________________

“Salazar! Did you see the look on bloody Weasley’s face? He looked like he was about to cry!” Daphne giggled, earning a smirk from Y/N and Draco. 

“Well, he deserved it!” Y/N smiled. She turned to face Draco, placing a hand on his arm. “Thank you, by the way.” 

The blonde Slytherin offered a small smile. “It was nothing.” 

“Oh but it was! You really are scary aren’t you? If I was him, I would have peed my pants.” Daphne crooned, Y/N nodding in agreement. Draco’s smile grew wider. 

____________________

The next morning at the Great hall, as expected, the controversial relationship between the famous Gryffindor mischief maker and Slytherin’s royal ice queen was once again the talk of the castle. 

The moment George entered the hall, all attention was diverted to him. It’s not like he didn’t want attention. I mean, Fred and George liked the attention, the applause and compliments that they heard when people liked their prank or their very useful product that gets you out of class when you don’t feel like attending it. However, the attention George was receiving right now was not pleasant at all. All eyes were on him, yes, but almost all of those eyes were glaring at him. 

Students seated at the Hufflepuff table were giving him sad and disappointed looks. Fred and George’s pranks were a good laugh but playing with a girl’s heart is just too much. 

Those in the Ravenclaw had raised brows. How dare him play with Y/N Icestone’s heart? Does he have no respect for himself and his family? 

Those in Gryffindor were ashamed. At first, they felt bad for their housemate but after hearing the conversation between the twins and Ginny, they sent their sympathies towards the Slytherin more. 

Students sorted in Slytherin were the worst. They were glaring at him, mocking him, and even giving him some snide remarks. “You just earned yourself a lot of enemies, Weasley. Watch your back.” Threatened Adrian Pucey. 

As the ginger sat on his usual spot at the Gryffindor table, his eyes studied the Slytherin table, trying to locate the girl who had been occupying his mind while trying not to make eye contact with those who were glaring at him. When his eyes planted at a mop of blonde hair, Malfoy’s hair, his eyes squinted. 

“Merlin, am I seeing this right or is Malfoy sitting with Icestone and Greengrass?” Ron, who was seated on his right, said what’s exactly on George’s mind. 

Hermione, seated in front of Ron, gave a glance before shaking her head. “That’s none of your business, Ronald.” 

The 4th year Weasley grunted. “It is if it’s true that bloody Icestone actually left my brother for stupid Malfoy!” 

“Enough, Ron!” Exclaimed Ginny. “You know nothing about George and Y/N’s relationship.” 

George took a sip of pumpkin juice from his goblet, shaking his head. “Maybe it’s true.” He said quietly, turning his attention away from a smiling Y/N and towards the plate of food in front of him. 

“What is?” Asked Fred. 

George merely shrugged. “Maybe she did leave me for Malfoy. I mean, what if she found out that I was playing with her so she and Malfoy conspired against me and they actually fell in love with each other. Something like that.” He suggested. 

Silence enveloped their space as all eyes gave George a dumbfounded look. “That sounds like the muggle love story book Hermione lent me.” Harry muttered, shaking his head before digging in his breakfast. 

Honestly, George wasn’t as calm as he was showing in his exterior. He was just good at controlling his anger. I mean, people really didn’t like him right now so if he made a scene right there, right now, people would hate him even more. But if people hated him, he hated someone more. He hated Draco Malfoy for being mean, for being nosy, and for being close to Icestone. He hated Daphne Greengrass because she was the haughty best friend of the girl he loved and hated the most, Y/N Icestone. He hated her for what happened between them. He hated her for not talking to him, for not letting him explain, and for playing with him. 

George didn’t care if he was being a hypocrite but Y/N Icestone played with him too. He had to get that straight. And so, after the girl’s Arithmancy class, he decided to corner her in that small alcove he pulled her in when they were in 5th year. 

“Didn’t I tell you to not talk to me ever again?” Icestone signed, shaking her head in frustration. Which in turn, earned a smirk from the ginger.

“Like I said, Icestone. If you ever paid any attention to me, you’ll know that I simply don’t follow what people tell me to do.” George asserted. Y/N once again sighed. 

“What do you want, Weasley? I have an essay to finish.” She asked, bored. 

“I wanted to get things straight with you, Icestone.”

“Then hurry up!” The Slytherin demanded, her patience long gone ever since she became face to face with the Gryffindor.  

The ginger was once again, speechless. Where is the Y/N Icestone that I loved? Why did she change so quickly?

He shook his head in disbelief. “You were right, Icestone. You’re not as evil as people describe you to be because you’re worse. Way, way worse.” He remarked with a disappointment present in his tone, earning himself an annoyed grunt,

“You betrayed me, George! All this time, you were only playing with me!” The girl fumed, her index finger pointed at the boy’s chest. 

George too, started to lose his patience. “But I stopped, didn’t I? I stopped! But then you’re here accusing me of playing you when YOU were the one who was playing with me!” 

“Why are you acting as if I’m the one who started this mess? Weren’t you and your twin the one who thought that it was such a great idea to make me fall for you?! To make me give you my heart and throw it away like it's some piece of garbage!” Y/N snarled, her icy eyes starting to melt with tears threatening to fall down. 

When the ginger took notice of her melting orbs, he felt his heart sink down his stomach. He hated Y/N Icestone and he hated how she cries. He hated it even more if he was the reason for it. So he let his guard down and surrendered. 

She’s right. George thought. I have no reason to blame her when it was me who started this mess. At Least he got that straight. 

“Why didn’t you talk to me, Y/N?” George quietly muttered, staring at his over worn shoes.

The girl shook her head, furiously blinking away the tears. “It doesn’t matter. What’s done is done because whatever we used to be, we’ll never be again.” She trembled, masking her shaking voice with faux confidence. 

“Besides, you were one of the people who believed that I have a stone cold heart. You wanted an ice queen? I’ll show you an ice queen.” 

____________________

Things didn’t get easier for George Weasley. From being the prankster, it seems like he was the victim of all the pranks students of Slytherin were pulling on him. 

In one of this week’s potion’s class, Professor Snape just had to conveniently break down everyone’s partnership. He knew it was the influence of Y/N Icestone. If not her, then Malfoy, but he knew that Icestone will still be involved in all of this. 

Snape demanded all of his students to brew a draught of living death. But he won’t tell you how. All you had to do was follow the instructions in your book. 

It’s not like George wasn’t good at potions. He is better at Fred afterall, seeing as Fred doesn’t even take this class anymore. But in the past potions classes, George never prepared the ingredients. He was more of the one who conveniently just pours all the ingredients in the cauldron, having Y/N prepare everything for him. The thought just made him miss her even more. But life sucks and he has to deal with it. And so, he dealt with a scowling Professor Snape after an unknown student from the house of Slytherin tampered with his cauldron and made it explode. 

In his charms class, a class in which he conveniently shares with Slytherins, they had to learn about non-verbal spells. And guess what? Some haughty bloke performed a non-verbal hex towards him, causing the majority of the class to laugh in his face before professor Flitwick made them stop. He was sent to the Hospital wing. 

Some time during the week, on his way to meet his twin brother, he suddenly tripped and a bucket of ice cold water was spilled into his uniform. He wouldn’t know who the culprit was if he didn’t see Blaise Zabini, Malfoy’s right hand man, snicker and shake his head in the corner of his eye. 

But despite everything, George Weasley let it slip. He never lashed out on them, choosing to keep his frustration bottled up before releasing it in a piece of parchment at night and throwing it into the fireplace inside the common room. Fred even suggested pranking them back, but George thought that he needed a break from mischief, seeing that the last didn’t really go well. 

Meanwhile, Y/N Icestone was back to her previous form. Back to herself when she never opened the stupid envelope the Weasley twins were planning to send to Malfoy. She was reserved, but not as reserved as before. She only showed her true form to her friends but other than them, her features continued to demand respect from everyone that goes past her. 

Honestly, she knew what her housemates were doing. They were messing with George Weasley for messing with her and at first, she wasn’t really fond of the idea until she remembered what the ginger did to her. So she convinced herself otherwise. 

And she observed. She observed how her housemates would either glare at the ginger or send him snide remarks whenever they’d cross paths with him. She observed how her housemate sneaked a foreign ingredient in George’s cauldron that caused it to explode. She observed how George saw who it was but didn’t act on it. She observed the way he was assisted by a kind Hufflepuff to the hospital wing. She observed how regardless of all the bullying he was receiving, he wasn’t fighting back. Which was unlikely of George Weasley. So she decided to make a bold move and ask why. 

“Honestly, what’s the matter with you?” Y/N mumbled with uncertainty, eyes piercing the ginger’s. 

George was shocked and confused. “What do you mean?” He breathed. The effect Y/N Icestone had on him remained. Seeing her up close still made his heart flip, heart ache, and heart break to pieces at the same time. 

The girl shrugged, tilting her head as if taking a better look at George, trying to comprehend his feelings. “Well, I’m mean to you, to your friends, my friends and housemates make fun of you, and you let it slip. You do nothing about it. Honestly, is this your way of letting me see how much of a bad person I am?” 

The Gryffindor offered a small smile, shaking his head. “You look happier.” He acknowledged.

“What?”

“Y/N Icestone, I wish you happiness. So if all this makes you happy, then fine. It’s my fault anyways.” 

____________________

The Slytherin didn’t take it well after that conversation. She was having a conflict with herself. The walls she built were tearing themselves apart as the thought of George Weasley came running around in her mind as if he owned the place. And so, she tried her best to distract herself. 

She attended almost all of Slytherin’s parties, something that she didn’t really bother going to before. She drank whatever Daphne would hand her, living her life like it was the last, getting intoxicated every night and then. Then she studied like her life depended on it. She was smart, but she needed a pastime. And so, she spent most of her time at the library, studying materials that a mere 6th year shouldn’t have knowledge of. She’d do anything to keep George Weasley out of her mind. 

She thought she moved on. But she realized that moving on will take a bit longer after waking up in the hospital wing with the ginger by her side. 

“George?” She called, her voice hoarse. 

The ginger stood, looking down at her with eyes of concern and worry. “Icestone. Glad you’re finally awake.” 

After attempting to sit up, the girl groaned, feeling her body ache as if fire was burning all over. “What are you doing here? What am I doing here? What the bloody hell happened?” She asked, clueless of the recent events.  

The Gryffindor raised both his brows in disbelief. “It seems like you’re overworking yourself, Icestone. Me and Fred saw you walking in the halls on the way to potions class but then suddenly you were on the floor, no response!” 

“Fred too?” Y/N pondered, earning a nod from the boy. “Yeah...Fred too. He went to class since Madame Pomfrey didn’t allow the both of us here. So I stayed.” 

“Why? Don’t you hate me? You could have attended potions class like your twin.” 

George offered a small smile, shaking his head. “Because if I attended Snape’s class, I would have worked on the cauldron alone and lost my house some points.” 

“Oh.” The girl murmured, nodding, 

The boy mirrored her actions. “Yeah.” 

Silence enveloped the atmosphere and it wasn’t comfortable. So, the Slytherin decided to call for Madame Pomfrey before facing the Gryffindor and offering a small smile. “Thank you, George. Really. But I’m fine now. You can leave.” 

The boy nodded. “Alright.” 

After the ginger left, the girl laid back down, closing her eyes. Why can’t I hate him? How can I hate him?

End of Chapter 8

____________________

Taglist: @abrunettefangirlnerd​ @gloryekaterina​ @lilypad-55449​ @memekingofwwiii @leovaldez37 @bellaiscool​ @sukunas-cult-leader​

[pillow-anime-talk]

genshin month ; twenty-fifth day.

synopsis: Your boyfriend was by far the nicest man in the whole world, but at times it made that you had a small but jealous thoughts and a strange burden on your fragile heart.

# tags: scenario; current relationship; mild romance; a bit od drama/angst; fluff; xingqiu is a little ooc?; sfw

includes: female reader ft. xingqiu {genshin impact}

author’s note: aaaa, i like this one so, so much! 

You bit your lip almost to the blood when you noticed your beloved boyfriend and the unknown white-haired girl standing next to the fountain, who, smiling, showed to the seventeen-year-old something on the city map and from time to time touched his upper body parts, asking for more, sometimes stupid and logical things.

You fell in love with Xingqiu for a simple reason – he was a charming man with a big heart and your relation began with the fact that on a one, random and rainy day he came up to you and next invited you under his huge, light purple umbrella. So you have known each other for over two years, and the teen has never raised his voice to you, never refused to help or hug you, never ignored your words, never chose someone over you. He was always there to cover your shoulders with a thick coat, to give you a short kiss, to invite you to dinner, or to buy you something warm to drink. And it was really marvelous; you fell in love with him again and again every single day.

Nevertheless, his good personality was also a loss for him and for you, because he was nice not only to your person or his loved ones, but also to strangers; to adults, to boys, to children, and to other girls as well. At one point in your relationship, you felt that you could lose him if he was still so cute with women who you thought were prettier, smarter, funnier, more gorgeous and who liked the same things he did. Your own tiny heart was bleeding when you saw Xingqiu help a female teen reach for a book, when he walked the girls home because of the late hour, or when he smiled the most beautifully in the world as a ‘Thank you’ for something.

Naturally, you trusted the boy, but you definitely couldn’t trust the girls who were infatuated with him.

“... U-Ummm... Xingqiu? Hey?” Finally, you came close enough to speak softly and get all the attention of the young man. As soon as he noticed you, blue-haired smiled charmingly and apologized to the fair-eyed girl standing next to him, telling her one last time that the cafe she was talking about was in the next street.

Of course, the young woman snorted under her breath at the sight of you, and then fastly walked away, leaving you with not a small disgust in your own, shiny eyes.

“Hello, darling.” He gave you another slight smile, and you nodded in response. “Where do you want to go today?”

“... I was thinking about going somewhere quiet. I brought two books with me and I was wondering if you would just like to read with me. I also have some tea and sandwiches.” You answered, looking at the basket full of snacks.

“It will definitely be a lovely date. Let’s go, dear.”

On the way to the place you chose very often for your dates, you met a few people who, seeing Xingqiu, approached you two to ask him about out of context things. Of course, they were girls about your age; each of them was magnificent and funny, and even brave, due to the fact that they weren’t afraid to touch his arms or shoulders. As always, they asked for his health, about the shops in Liyue, and even if he would want to drink tea with them now; literally none of them paid any attention to you. At the sound of their suggestions and questions your mood deteriorated even more, so you quietly withdrew and headed towards the house to read your borrowed books and eat sandwiches with cream cheese, chives and fresh cucumber.

Of course, your partner noticed very quickly that you weren’t by his side, so this time, without saying ‘Goodbye’, he ran forward. The teenager was well aware of where you went, so finding your disappointed person halfway to the cottage wasn’t a problem for the young knight. He hugged you lightly from behind, and you sniffled, slowly turning to face him.

“No, no. Don’t cry, please.” He whispered as he wiped the hot tears from your cheeks with his thumbs, and you just sobbed louder. It was the first time you cried in front of him because of negative feelings. “Y/N...”

“You are so good and so many people like you... I’m just afraid that someone will take you far away from me one day, Xingqiu. I can’t take this thought anymore. I just c-can’t.” You grunted grimly, and the male raised his hand, stroking your head. You’ve always cherished this way of showing his feelings.

“Nobody is going to take me from you because I would never let it. You’re the one with whom I bind my future, you know it perfectly well. In addition, you are the woman I love sincerely and indescribably.”

“I know, but... you’re too submissive, ‘Qiu... I trust you, but what if someone offers you something harmful and you don’t refuse this person because you won’t be able to? I don’t want it, I really don’t want it.”

The slow patting of your head stopped, and instead you felt a warm peck in the center of your hot forehead. The golden-eyed man smiled at you, then patted your head again, adjusting your soft hair and the collar of the delicate dress in the process.

“Sorry about that, sweetheart. I know you may have felt bad, but I wasn’t consciously doing it. I promise to be more assertive... Now come here.” He suddenly opened his arms and you snuggled into his body, feeling unimaginable relief and a feeling of bliss in your heart. “By the way, I also wanted to add that no girl is as wonderful as you, and I have never met someone who loves books as much as I do, so I believe that there is no better person in the world than you... Even if they put the princess of all Teyvat in front of me, I would still choose you because you are one of a kind.”

“S-Stupid... Can we just... finish our date at my house?”

“I would be honored.” Another sweet kiss landed on your face, and your boyfriend’s gentle hand didn’t disappear from your head until you both entered your home and sat down in your bedroom, starting a long reading session.

Of course, Xingqiu kept his promise the very next day, smirking at anyone who wanted to interfere with your date; he would answer each sentence very quickly and with amusement visible on his face, saying a short ‘Hmm, I’m not sure... but maybe my beloved GIRLFRIEND will answer that question, huh?’.

previous day ; ningguang and beidou ♡ next day ; tartaglia

[aria-i-adagio]

Fourth Try’s Not the Charm

for @autumnofanders Day 3: Kinloch

Wordcount: ~2100 Rating: T

CW: templar abuse, imprisonment, hurt/comfort

Anders didn’t plan his fourth escape from Kinloch Hold. It was a crime of opportunity. About two months after his Harrowing, some of the senior enchanters talked the Greagoir into letting them take the recently harrowed mages outside to teach them some spells that could be used with water - in the water. Supposedly, they could be trusted now. Allowed a bit more leeway.

He wasn't planning on doing anything except enjoying the sun, but once he's mastered a spell that creates an artificial current - intended to propel a boat - well, it only made sense to see if the same spell would work for a human body.

Yes.

And by the grace of Andraste or some other power, no one notices when he takes as deep of a breath as he can manage, ducks under the water, and reemerges a good fifty yards closer to shore.

Anders hides out on an overgrown bank for the rest of the day, then steals some clothes from a line and a handful or two of carrots from the ground in the little village beside the docks, and then he's gone.

It takes them one month and five days to find him in Amaranthine.

Anders is already pretty beat up when they get him back to the Tower. Greagoir is infuriated - angrier than Anders has ever seen him - and orders a public whipping to get his point across. Thirty lashes. Anders tells himself that he’ll live through that... he thinks. After about ten or so, his mind just sort of drops out, floats away, to nowhere in particular. Just somewhere very, very far away. He’s not really conscious again until someone tosses a bucket of salted water across his back, then two knights are hauling him down the steps and dumping him face-first onto a thin mattress.

The next time he’s aware of anything there’s a woman arguing with the guards outside the door.

“Sorry, ma'am, but the Knight-Commander wants him to be an example.”

“He won't make a very good example if he's dead, will he?” A very stern, determined woman. Wynne. Just what he needs. A warm, maternal tongue lashing. “Let me through. I won't do anything other than drive out infection.”

“Let her pass. Drop the dampening wards for her as well.”

The door creaks open. Anders can’t tell if the light in the cell increases. His face is too well hidden in his arms. Wynne touches his bicep and shakes him until he groans and turns his head to the side. “Hi, Mom.”

“You are the damnedest fool I’ve ever met.” Wynne tweaks his ear. “Don't you realize how much trouble you create for the rest of us? How worried some of us were about you?”

“I'm not the problem. If they didn’t -”

She sighs. “I’ve heard all of this from you before. You’re old enough to know better.”

Heat radiates from her hands as they hover over Anders’ back. It’s not a full healing spell, but it will keep the open welts from getting infected. And possibly calm the fever that Anders can tell is running dangerously high. Might get an interesting dream or two out of it to pass the time.

“That’s all I’m allowed to do.” Wynne gathers his hair at the base of his neck and brushes the back of her hand over his temple and cheek. “They're leaving you down here for two months and ten days, Anders.”

“Ah, I'll get caught up on my sleep.”

“Don’t jest. I suggest using the time to pray for some wisdom.” She pats his cheek and stands up. “You're smarter than this. You have a lot to offer if you would just learn to accept reality.”

***

Light. Even the limited light of Kinloch Hold’s entry hall is more than Anders can hand;e after two months and change in the dark. An unsympathetic Templar shoves him toward the door that leads into the library. They’re done taking him apart. If any of the other mages want to bother putting him back together, he’s their problem now.

Karl grabs him almost as soon he staggers into the library and shakes him by the shoulders. “You moron.” Then he leans close and kisses him. “You fucking idiot.”

Anders winces at the contact. A kick in the side is about as much human interaction as he’s experienced in the past... however long. In the dark, time collapses and expands in unpredictable ways.

Dark. His vision goes dark around the edges, and his knees give up.

Karl catches him and pulls Anders’ arm across his shoulder, holding him up. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

Anders hadn’t had the time to fully explore the quarters where the mages who had survived the Harrowing but who weren’t yet enchanters slept. The baths off to the side are about the same as the ones in the apprentices’ dorm though. Cast iron tubs with chips in the enamel and a few folding screens to approximate privacy. Hand pumps for water. A drain in the floor for the same.

They’re on the second tub of water, and Anders is beginning to worry about just what Karl used as a bribe to get this much water and time. “I’m going to have to cut these out.” Karl has been trying for what seems like hours now to work loose the mats in Anders’ hair. Or maybe they’ve only been here a few minutes; Anders isn’t sure.

“Go ahead,” he mumbles.

“Maker, baby...” Karl pushes lightly on the back of his head. Anders lets his chin fall forward onto his chest. The sound of metal scraping together grates against his ears as Karl begins snipping clumps out of his hair. Karl is careful, working slowly and pushing his fingers along Anders’ scalp to keep from cutting the skin by mistake. It’ll grow back. Just like skin does.

He rests his elbows on the edge of the tub and lets his fingers dangle in the water. It’s warm, he knows, but he can’t really feel it, any more than he could really feel the rough fabric of a washcloth scrubbing across his skin.

“What are you humming?” Karl is still trimming, maybe trying to even out the length.

“Am I humming?” Anders started singing to himself maybe a week, maybe two, after he was left alone. Then it turned to humming. He doesn’t even think about it now.

Karl leans around him, scoops up a double handful of water, and rinses out his hair. “There we go.” He presses his cheek against Anders, beard prickling against freshly shaven skin. “Let’s get you dried off and dressed. Do you want to try to walk a bit? The garden is still nice.”

Anders can’t find the energy to respond or even to raise his hand and investigate the feeling of short hair. Karl decides for him, guiding him to the kitchens and begging a bowl of soup and a thick chunk of bread from one of the Tranquil cooks. He sits across from Anders, watching as he eats. Anders doesn’t finish the food, his stomach starts to feel tight and painful before he’s even halfway through. He stares at the surface of the thin soup and stirs it absently.

“Can’t eat more? They’ve starved you too.” Karl reaches across the table and touches his face, frowning when Anders reflexively pulls away. “I’ve never seen your cheeks so hollow.”

“Shoulda left the beard then.”

Karl almost smiles. “Let’s try to stretch your legs a bit then.”

Even though the autumn day is overcast, the garden is almost too bright. Anders has to pull up the hood of his robe to shade his eyes before he can bear it, and he isn't able to walk far before he has to sit down on one of the stone benches. So much for running.

The walled garden is busy with mages trying to catch a bit of sun before winter sets in, but everyone except Karl gives him a wide berth. Anders has no complaints, he can barely manage to not cry with delight from hearing other human voices - or to panic because he’s no longer accustomed to hearing the sounds of people interacting with each other and going about their business.

How much he can stand to be touched comes and goes, but after the first several times Anders flinched away, Karl waits for him to initiate anything, not even daring to hold his hand. It’s probably safer for Karl if that remains the case. Anders just creates trouble for anyone who cares about him.

“You should go. They’ll be watching anyone with me.”

“Fuck that. Besides, I’m already marked.”

“I’m sorry, Karl.” Anders slumps against his shoulder, blinking rapidly in a futile attempt to not start crying. Maybe it’s just the light causing his eyes to water.

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart.”

“Can we go back inside? I’m tired.” He hadn’t expected to be tired after spending so much time sleeping.

“Yes. If that’s what you want.”

***

Anders’ bed is just as he left it. No one had taken the opportunity to steal a desirable lower bunk tucked into the corner. A sign of respect? Or just Karl zealously guarding it? Who knows?

Anders crawls in and lays down gingerly on the mattress. His back is finally whole as of an hour or two ago when Karl peeled the filthy shirt off him, squeaked in dismay, and healed the one or two remaining welts that had been stubbornly refusing to close up. But Anders has gotten accustomed to moving with care to avoid reopening them. It’ll be some time before he’ll be able to bring himself to move carelessly, freely again.

Anders curls on his side and lays his head down on the large pillow, wrapping his arms around the much smaller one his mother gave him. The threads of the artful needlework are beginning to fade, much like the memory of her face.

Karl shakes out a blanket, drapes it over him, and starts to pull the curtains around the bed.

“No.” All the muscles in Anders’ body tighten, and his right calf spasms painfully. “Stop.”

Karl freezes. His eyes widen then soften with something between pity and pain of his own. Anders reaches out to him. “Will you stay with me? Please. Please don’t leave me alone. And not in the dark.”

Karl sits on the edge of the bed and strokes Anders’ hair. The short length transfers more of the sensation to his scalp, and Anders chokes back the sob that the gentle contact elicits.

“Do you want me to lay down with you?”

Anders nods. His throat is too tight to speak. Karl crawls into bed next to him and pulls the curtains around it partially closed, leaving at least some light streaming in. He folds one arm under his head and continues stroking Anders' hair and cheek.

“I’ve missed you,” Karl whispers.

Three, nearly four months, counting the time Anders was on the run and if in fact, Greagoir had only left him locked up for the time he first named and hadn’t conveniently forgotten about him for a few days or weeks more than promised.

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re not the problem. It’s this miserable place.”

“Keep talking.” Anders hasn't heard voices that weren't gruff commands in so long. “Please. Anything. Tell me what happened while I was...” His voice trails off.

“Hmm... Amaury finished his thesis. He’s got two apprentices now. One accidentally set a tree in the garden on fire last week. He let the Templars scramble for a minute or two before extinguishing it.”

Anders smiles, even if he can't quite find the strength to laugh.

“Speaking of Templars, two were caught at it in a stairwell the other day, and dear Knight-Captain Maude is furious because she'd been tupping one of them, but she can't say anything of course, because you know Greagoir frowns on cross rank relationships. So that's been a bit fun to watch.”

“Ah, so much honor and self-restraint from our selfless protectors.”

“As always. Let’s see... The Formari were asked to up their production of goods. I guess the Chantry didn’t get enough donations this year, or some Revered Mother wants new drapery for her halls. Pity that increased speed increases mistakes. Exponentially, of course.”

“Of course.” The Tranquil within the Formari might not care about being asked to do more, but the enchanters would find subtle ways to indicate their displeasure.

“Enchanter Ines managed to arrange another research trip, so every mage with any training in botany or herbalism is jockeying for a position. Have you ever seen what happens when a growth spell is cast on a fly trap?”

“Please tell me the overgrown carnivorous plant caught a Templar.” Anders manages a chuckle. “I should ask to go. Ines loves me. Maybe I could take a vow of silence."

"Now, now -” Karl kisses the tip of his nose. “Don't make promises you can’t keep.”

[betweenthepages]

At Least We Met | Chapter 2

word count: 1,702

pairing: sangihun, m/m

previous chapter <-

Archive Of Our Own

Shit shit shit!

Gihun sank to his knees, hands covering his face. How could he fuck up so badly? This time he had no one to blame but himself. Not to mention he had wasted Sangwoo’s efforts to get him there. Gihun rose to his feet and entered the building to talk to the stationmaster.

Gihun explained the situation in hysterics. The old man had to ask him to calm down and take a breath so he could understand. He stared at Gihun pointedly after he had repeated the information. “The next station is Suwon. I will call their stationmaster and ask them to hold your luggage. That’s all I can do.”

“But how will I get there?”

“That’s for you to figure out. Who told you to get off the train? You should’ve been smarter.” Gihun nodded, the weight of shame and disappointment setting in his stomach. “You see, life is a railway in itself. One small mistake, and you will be derailed.” Gihun stopped him right there. “If I wanted a lecture I would’ve asked for it. You’ve helped enough. Now goodnight.” He said sharply, turning on his heel and walking out the door. The stationmaster grumbled about how this generation’s youth lacked respect for elders.

“Hey! Mister!” Gihun’s mood lightened seeing that same taxi driver waiting in his car outside. He looked up from praying. Upon seeing Gihun, he turned and drove off. Gihun deflated. His only option was to find a place to stay for the night and catch the next train in the morning. He pulled out his phone intending to search for a motel nearby. The closest one was still a fair walking distance, but it was the best he could find. The phone battery flashed bright red. He made a mental note to conserve the remaining percentage since his charger was in his travel bag.

The city wasn’t particularly lively this late at night, but it wasn’t empty. A motorcycle slowed down beside Gihun as he walked. The man riding looked to be in his 40s, skin wrinkled and greasy black hair sitting on his shoulders. His arms were coated in odd tattoos. Gihun payed no attention, until the guy spoke to him. “What’s someone like you doing all alone, hm? Come with me.”

“Excuse me?” The biker threw him a suggestive wink, making Gihun wince in disgust. “Just you and me, my place. All night.” Gihun was flabbergasted by this man’s audacity. “No way in hell.” He sped up his pace. The sleazy male wasn’t pleased with his answer, speeding to his side once again. “Seriously? If you want money then I’ll give it to you. You know you want to.”

Fear clouded Gihun’s mind. Every turn he made, the guy accompanied him, spewing gross offers and insistent pleas as if he were a cheap prostitute. Just as he thought there was no way of getting rid of the creep, he saw a figure down the street standing underneath a lamp. Gihun felt a rush of relief recognising the tall, broad frame and sleek businessman attire. Without hesitation, he bolted. The biker called out to him, saying he should stop making such a fuss, but didn’t chase after him immediately.

Sangwoo jumped at the familiar voice calling his name and someone appearing in front of him, bracing two hands on his shoulders. Gihun? Sangwoo’s confusion doubled when a guy pulled up next to them on a motorbike. The creep seemed more excited by Sangwoo’s presence rather than threatened, much to Gihun’s dismay. “Is this your bitch? Care to share him with me? The more the merrier.” He smirked. “Pardon?” Sangwoo frowned. Share him? His confusion cleared when he registered Gihun’s terrified expression. “Gihun, who is this clown? Is he harassing you?” He asked. Gihun whimpered, suddenly wrapping his arms around his middle. “Just play along.” He whispered in his ear. He gave no time for Sangwoo to react before pressing his lips together.

His brain short-circuited. Gihun was kissing him. He froze for mere seconds, processing what was happening before he found himself relaxing against the other male and moving his lips in the same rhythm, hands falling on the tiny waist. He knew what Gihun’s plan was, and he had no complaints. Gihun was annoyingly attractive and a good kisser. He decided to enjoy the act while it lasted. With the knowledge that the creep was still watching them, they pulled away (albeit, reluctantly). “Leave me and my husband alone, or I will not hesitate to call the cops on your musty ass.” Sangwoo warned. “Whatever. I’m out.” He said grumpily, turning on his bike and speeding into the distance.

“Are you okay?” Sangwoo asked Gihun in pure concern. As many questions as he had, the main being ‘what on earth are you doing here?’, the other male was clearly shaken up. “Y-Yeah. It was just scary. God knows what would have happened if you weren’t here when you were.” Gihun ran a hand through his hair. “And I’m sorry about the kiss, I know it was unexpected but it was the only thing I could think of.”

“Don’t apologise. Your plan worked.” Sangwoo smiled. Gihun nodded, a delicate flush blooming on his cheeks. He felt guilty for kissing another man whilst in a relationship. But he reminded himself that it was purely for the sake of his own safety. What Gongyoo didn’t know won’t hurt him. “There’s a motel nearby. You have money, let’s spend the night there. Unless you want to roam the streets until morning.” Gihun said.

.

Sangwoo agreed. The two walked beside each other whilst exchanging conversation. “How did you miss your train again?”

“Well it’s a funny story actually... The water seller was charging 2000 won for one bottle! Isn’t that ridiculous? I started arguing with them because they were practically robbing people.”

“Well you have to consider the cost of materials, logos, suppliers, quality-” “Shush! Anyways, I don’t have any other excuses. I wasn’t paying attention to my surroundings and I didn’t realise the train was already leaving. I’m sorry about putting you through all that trouble Sangwoo.” Sangwoo chuckled, shaking his head. “I expect nothing less from you.”

“But this is fun too, right? Exploring the streets of Cheonan-si! I’ve never been here before.” Sangwoo raised an eyebrow. “You are quite a character. You should be kept in a museum.”

“People charging to be in my presence would be a huge ego boost.” Gihun laughed, “And what about yourself? Who gets on a train not knowing where they’re going? Then gets off at a random station in the middle of the night?” Sangwoo says nothing, smile fading. “Guess we’re both odd specimens, huh? Maybe we’d have our exhibits next to each other.” Gihun unsuccessfully attempted to ease the awkwardness. “Anyways, enough of that, which cities have you visited? Surely a businessman like you travels often.” Sangwoo doesn’t respond. Gihun feels bad knowing he probably hit a nerve. “Sangwoo-ah, I’m sorry. I went too far. Forgive me.” Gihun gave him his best puppy eyes. No one was able to resist! Sangwoo coughed, his reserved attitude changing into fluster. He pointed to the structure in front of them. “We’re here.”

.

The lady at the front desk wore a bored expression, but smirked when she eyed the pair. “How much do you charge for one night?” Sangwoo asked, pulling his credit card from his wallet. “Wouldn’t you rather be charged on an hourly basis?” She looked between them with a glint of mischief in her eyes. “I should also inform you that all rooms are soundproofed.” She continued. The two men blushed at the implication. “The whole night.” Sangwoo confirmed. The curly-haired woman shrugged, writing down their names and providing a room key.

.

“Can you believe how unprofessional she is? Making inappropriate assumptions about customers as if it’s any of her business.” Sangwoo ranted. Gihun look at the clock ticking on the wall. “It’s late. I’m really tired, today was hectic.” Sangwoo nodded. “I checked the bus routes, the earliest leaves at 7:30. We should sleep as much as we can. Tomorrow will be busier.” Gihun looked at him with wide eyes. “Bus? Where are we going?”

“Didn’t you ask me to take you to Busan? That’s what I’m doing.” Gihun could hardly believe what he was hearing. The ridiculousness of everything that was happening dawned upon him. He was in a hotel with a man who he had known for less than a day, and tomorrow he was going to take him across the country.

Sangwoo was reserved and mysterious. Gihun didn’t understand him. He didn’t even want to talk to Gihun when they had met, and now he was willing to take him places and spend money on him out of pure kindness? It felt too good to be true. Gihun was anxious. Judging by the lack of couch in the room, they would be sharing a bed tonight. Did he have the same intentions has the creep on the motorbike? Gihun glanced up at Sangwoo folding his jacket and placing it on a chair. Neither of them had a change of clothes, Gihun was lucky he decided to dress comfortable for the trip. “I learnt Taekwondo, you know.” Sangwoo turned around with a questioning expression. “So?”“I’m just telling you. I’ve fought in competitions, I injured almost all of my opponents.” Gihun eyed him warily. Sangwoo sighed, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m not going to try anything.”

“I don’t think you will, but just in case you do.”

Sangwoo couldn’t blame him for being cautious. He had no plans of doing that to Gihun, but from the other male’s point of view he could understand the fear. Sangwoo himself didn’t know why he was now willing to do anything for this man when at first all he wanted was to get rid of him. “Okay.” Gihun lay down on the right side of the bed with his back to Sangwoo, getting comfortable underneath the covers. Sangwoo set his glasses on the nightstand and turned off the light, then did the same. “Goodnight, Sangwoo.” Gihun said into the darkness. “Goodnight, hyung.”

[weelittleweasley]

Little Lion | Ron x Reader

Prompt as requested by 2 anons: Naturally as a Slytherin, you exude confidence and intimidation. Ron Weasley, on the other hand, not so much. But that’s what made you so attracted to the other, much to everyone else’s surprise. Question is will he muster up the courage to ask you to go to the Yule Ball with him?

Warnings: None!

Word Count: 3.8k

A/N: IMPORTANT NOTE: I know, I know, I know, the Yule Ball is only around for the Triwizard Tournament, but let’s pretend like it doesn’t exist just then!! I wanted to age everyone up to year six and give Ron and opportunity to redeem himself from the robes his mother sent him hehe. I literally am a fucking fiend for Ron Weasley, my love for him should be ILLEGAL. Ron content on here is MINIMAL TO NONE! If anyone has any great fic recs for Ron, PLEASE SEND THEM MY WAY. LOOK AT THAT MOTHERFUCKER!! I AM IN LOVE WITH HIM!!!!!!!!!!!

All it took was for you to walk down the hall to get people to look at you and start whispering between each other. It wasn’t a bad thing at all, in fact you quite liked it. You were a confident girl and sometimes that confidence intimidated people. It gave you this sense of power that you liked to use when you needed something out of someone. Not to mention the people you surrounded yourself with in your house were also quite intimidating people, one of them being Draco Malfoy. 

You and Draco were best friends, a dynamic duo of sorts. People thought that you two would end up together, falling madly in love. But Draco was like your brother. He took you under his wing when you got Hogwarts and he was the person who helped you unlock that unfaltering confidence within you. Besides, Draco and you’s personalities clashed too much for it to work with you. You were both dominant, confident, intimidating people; Both of you needed to be in control at all times. Far too similar. 

Instead, you took a liking to people who were more reserved. People who thought before they acted upon their impulses. You needed someone who balanced you out. But someone who could dominate you and keep you at bay when you needed it. Only problem was people like that were scared of you or found you unapproachable. Which you understood, but at the same time, you wished that those people could suck it up and make a move.

As you walked down the hall today, Draco made his way next to you. “We should skip Potions today,” he states as you roll your eyes. Sometimes Draco kept this cool boy act up too much and you knew he was a big softie on the inside and he actually enjoyed school more than he liked to admit. “Seriously. We could ditch Slughorn’s class and hang out in the common room or by the Black Lake,” he tries to tempt you.

“Dray, we’re going to class whether you like it or not,” you speak as you continue to walk to class, Draco groaning when you tell him this. “Slughorn is may be old, but he says valuable things,” you push his shoulder.

The blonde boy just sighs. “I hate when you’re right.”

The both of you walk into Potions class, your face lighting up when you see that your other friends from Slytherin were already in class, awaiting your arrival. You grab a seat with Draco on your right and Pansy on your left. Pansy already starts gossiping about people who you could honestly care less about, but you give her the attention she wants anyway, her being one of your closest girl friends in the school. 

As she blabs on about some poor girl from Hufflepuff that she picked on during lunch, you watch as some Gryffindors enter the classroom, your eyes sticking on the Weasley boy. Ron Weasley was someone who you watched from afar. He was one of those boys who had that boyish charm that made you blush. The ginger was funny, for sure, but he had thoughtful and kind mannerisms that made your heart flutter when you watched him. You picked up on how he would notice when Granger would get distressed and he would offer her a sweet from his backpack that he had stored for occasions like this. You watched how he always packed more than one quill because Potter always managed to forget his. You watched how his eyes widened with fear when Slughorn would talk about how Potions can go wrong quickly, the Weasley boy fearfully concocting his. All of those little ticks made you develop a little crush on him after months of watching him.

Ron sat down in his typical seat next to Hermione and Harry, but he could feel a set of eyes on him from the moment he walked into the classroom. “Is she looking at me?” he nervously asks Harry. 

Harry glances over in your direction, watching that your eyes were glued on Potter’s best friend. When you notice Harry looking at you, you quickly turn away and pay attention to Pansy who continues to ramble. “She was,” Harry reports back. Ron nervously groans. “Oh come on, maybe she has a crush on you.”

“I highly doubt it. I bet she’s planning how to rip my heart out of my chest and then serve it to Malfoy on a silver platter,” his voice cracks. “She scares me.”

Hermione rolls her eyes, “Oh, please, Ronald. Just because the girl is confident and knows what she wants doesn’t make her scary; it makes her smart. I don’t know why she would have a crush on someone like you.”

Ron just looks at Hermione. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he exclaims.

With a huff, Hermione turns to Ron and Harry. “It means I’m surprised that she doesn’t have a crush on someone like Draco or Blaise Zabini. She likes someone like you, Ronald. Merlin, I didn’t think I would have to spell it out for you,” she turns back to the board, ready to start class. 

Your conversation with Pansy is interrupted when Professor Slughorn appear in front of the classroom and starts class, telling you to get into pairs. You turn to Draco, who was always your partner, Pansy with Blaise, Crabbe with Goyle. Everyone in the class regardless of their houses worked with the same people. Slughorn notices this and asks, “How about we switch it up and work with different people?” This earns a chorus of groans from the class. “I’m glad all of you are so eager to work with each other,” he says sarcastically. “I’ll assign the partners.” This earns more groans from the class.

Slughorn starts to pair people up with each other. You start to think that Slughorn is trying to make drama in the class when he starts. “Parkinson and Potter,” he announces.

“You’re bloody joking,” Pansy huffs making you laugh with Draco, making Pansy turn beet red. She grabs her things and moves to a work table in the back of the classroom. 

Slughorn continues to rattle off names of unlikely duos. “Miss Granger and Mr. Malfoy,” Slughorn continues as you have to stifle your laugher and Draco whispers multiple profanities, slapping your shoulder, him grabbing his things in a huff. Hermione was definitely not happy about this pairing either as she has a scared look on her face as she looks at Ron before she moves to the back tables. “Miss (Y/L/N) and Mr. Weasley,” Slughorn announces.

Your heart quite literally stops and Ron looks like a deer in headlights. You did not expect this pair to happen. You can hear Draco cackling in the back of the classroom as you whip your head around. “Shut it, you nitwit,” you spit at him as he continues to laugh. You grab all of your belongings and make your way to a back table as Ron follows. Draco is still laughing, so you waste no time, slapping him upside the head, him letting out an ow! as you do so. “Bloody moron,” you huff at him before plopping down at a table with a shy Ron next to you. It is awkward. 

Slughorn calls out the last few partners before giving you the assignment for the  day. After he finished speaking, the class is silent for a long beat before the small chatter beings. You turn to Ron and offer him a small smile which he nervously reciprocate. The poor bloke is afraid of me, you think too yourself. “-so-”

“-um-”

The both of you talk at the same time. “You go,” you insist to Ron.

He shakes his head. “No, no, go ahead, I don’t even know what I was going to say, something stupid probably,” he tells you. His comment makes you lightly laugh. You suggest how you should start the task given. “Yep, much smarter than what I was going to say.”

You laugh again, “I’m sure what you were going to say was not stupid, Ron.” You had him a few vials of liquids needed to craft this potion. He carefully takes them from your hands and you notice how he actively avoids touching his hands against yours as if they were poison. Your heart kind of sinks at this. Were you that intimidating to him? You start, “You know,” you grab a pair of gloves, “I don’t bite. I know other people in the school say otherwise, but I’m not that bad.”

Ron gives you a genuine smile and laughs, looking down as his feet. “I’m sure you don’t,” he tells you as you blush lightly. “I guess pretty girls scare me.” Your heart rate picks up at the compliment, gulping a little bit, not making eye contact, too scare to. This was so unlike yourself. Ron clears his throat, “Anyway, let’s start, shall we?”

Within thirty minutes, you and Ron have completed all of the assignments for today’s class. You still had thirty minutes left of class, but Slughorn comes over. “Everything looks right to me!” he exclaims with excitement. “Well done, Miss (Y/L/N) and Mr. Weasley! Since you’ve completed your work, I can dismiss you early from class!” 

“What? That’s rubbish!” yells Draco from the other side of the room. You stick your tongue out at him before grabbing your things and thanking Slughorn for the great class. 

You and Ron exit the class. “Job well done, indeed,” you laugh as you nudge Ron’s shoulder as he laughs. The two of you walk side by side down the hall. “Um, well, I guess I’ll see you around, Weasley.”

Starting to walk in the opposite direction, you hear Ron call, “Wait! Uh...” You turn around to see Ron behind you. “I have nothing to do for the rest of the day, and I was, um, do you wanna hang out by the Black Lake? I had snacks that I stole from the kitchen this morning.”

You cannot prevent the smile that forms across your lips. “Yeah, sounds fun.”

Ron’s lips form a cheeky grin. “Wicked.”

The two of you made your way to the Black Lake, making small talk here and there until you reached your destination. The both of you sat side by side on the grass as Ron handed you a bag of crisps from his backpack as you thank him for the snack. “So,” he starts, “this might be a weird question, but...why are you friends with people like Malfoy and Parkinson?”

You smile and lightly laugh at the question. “Draco and I are like siblings. He’s the brother I never had. When I got to Hogwarts, as hard as it may be to believe, I was really shy. I didn’t talk to many people and he took me under his wing. He helped me find my voice. I owe that to him. But that’s all that Draco and I are. Friends,” you stress, trying to express that you and Draco’s relationship was simply platonic. Ron nods. “Pansy on the other hand, she and I became friends because of Draco, but to be honest, she annoys me more than she does entertain me.”

This makes Ron laugh. “I thought I was the only one who found her dreadful,” he chuckles.

“What about you? Why are you friends with Harry and Hermione?” you ask him before munching on a chip.

Ron takes a deep breath in. “Like you said, Harry’s my brother. He gets me into deep shit, but he’s my brother.” You laugh at his passing joke, Ron looking at you out of the corner of his eye. “But seriously, Harry and I met on the train to Hogwarts. He and I have been inseparable since. Hermione, on the other hand, butt her way into Harry and I’s friendship. Again, she gets me into some deep shit, too, but here I am...The two of them are much braver than I am though, so I don’t quite understand why they think I’m a good addition to this team.”

You nudge his shoulder. “I disagree with that,” you speak truthfully. “You’re a Gryffindor! You’re like a lion,” you shimmy your shoulders, making him laugh.

“A little lion,” he retorts. 

“More of a lion than I am,” you counter, making him blush.

-------

More classes like this came along. You and Ron partnered up and finished your assignment for the day early, escaping class to hang out by the lake, eat snacks, and clown around. The more time you spent with Ron, the more comfortable you were with each other. But most of your interactions were limited to Potions class and your Blake Lake encounters. Other than that, you hung out with different people, spend your free time doing different things. This made you both cherish your private moments more. 

You sat by the Black Lake today, eating biscuits that your mom sent in a parcel to you. As you munched, you spoke, “The Yule Ball is coming up.” The mention of the Yule Ball makes the both of you tense. Neither of you had dates yet and you both secretly hoped the other wanted to go with each other. “You reckon you know who you want to ask?”

Ron munches on his biscuit quietly before swallowing. “Not really,” he lies through his teeth. I want to take you, Ron thinks. “What about you?” You shake your head no. I want to go with you, you think. “I’m sure you’ll have someone ask you, (Y/N). How could you not get a date? Look at you,” he tells you as you blush. 

You wanted to scream at him to ask you. That you wanted him to take you to the Yule Ball so you didn’t have to go with someone like Crabbe or Goyle. But you don’t. You just sit and finish your biscuit. “I think I’m gonna head back,” you confess, not really wanting to stay any longer with Ron no matter how much you actually wanted to capitalize on your time with him. 

As you rise, Ron watches you gather your things. You bloody idiot, just say it, he thinks to himself. Mustering up all of the confidence he has, Ron stands up and stops you. “(Y/N)?” he asks, stopping you from walking away from him. You look at the Weasley, waiting for him to say something. Anything. Ron takes a deep breath in and then says, “Go to the Yule Ball with me.”

Your heart flutters and the biggest smile appears on your face followed by beet red cheeks. Ron stares at you, relishing in how beautiful you look in this moment with kind eyes and rosy cheeks. “Okay. Yes,” you shake your head, making Ron smile wide.

“Brilliant,” he whispers, picking up his bag, walking back to the castle with you. “I’m glad you said yes.”

Nudging his shoulder, you tease, “Well, you didn’t make it a question, little lion.” Ron chuckles. “I would have said yes either way,” you admit.

-----

The Yule Ball rolled around and you were ball of nerves and excitement. You couldn’t wait to just go downstairs and see Ron and spend the evening with him. You looked at yourself in the mirror one last time, smoothing your hands over the satin crimson fabric of your dress. You smiled to yourself, you chose this dress mostly because of how beautiful it was, but also knowing it was the colors of Gryffindor. You wanted everyone to know who you were at the dance with. You were wearing these colors with pride tonight. 

Before you made your way to the ball, you met up with Draco. “Wow,” he claps as you walk towards him, you rolling your eyes. “You look stunning,” Draco tells you as you smile.

“You look fine,” you shrug as Draco teasingly slapping your shoulder. “I’m kidding, Malfoy, you look great.”

Draco offers you his arm as you both make your way to the hall where the Ball was. “I never asked you,” Draco says, “who was the lucky bloke who asked you?”

As you turn the corner to the hall, there Ron was, dressed in a black suit with a jacket that was a smidge too big on him. Probably a hand-me-down from Fred or George. Regardless, Ron looked handsome as ever. Your heart thumped out of your chest when you saw him. “Him,” you whisper breathlessly. 

Draco chuckles at first because he thinks you’re kidding. “You’re going with a Weasley?” he asks in disbelief. You ignore his snide comment, disjoining you from Draco, and you walk over to Ron. Draco turns to Zabini, “Did you know she was going with Weasley?” Zabini shakes his head. “What has gotten into her?”

Ron feels as if he may faint. You looked absolutely breathtaking in your dress of crimson, hair perfectly falling to frame your face. He felt like a fish out of water in his older brother’s old suit, but his thoughts were pushed aside when you approached him. “You are gorgeous,” he blurts, making you blush. “I can’t believe you’re my date,” he lightly laughs, grabbing your hand. “I’m the luckiest guy here.”

Smiling at the boy in front of you, you squeeze his hand. “I can’t believe you’re my date,” you confess. “I have the kindest, handsomest boy as my date to the Yule Ball.” Ron blushes a deep shade of red, almost matching your dress. “You want to go in, lion?” you call him his nickname. Ron nods and guides you inside to the ball. 

-----

The Yule Ball was fun for the first hour and a half. But soon enough you grew tired of dancing and jumping around. Ron looked over at you and spoke over the music, “You wanna get out of here?” You don’t even have to answer him, you just grab his hand and start making your way out. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he laughs. 

When you are outside of the hall, Ron tells you, “Give me one minute. I need to grab something from my room before we go. I’ll be right back.”

You watch him leave, a big smile on your face as you smooth out the material of your dress. This night felt nothing short of magical. Ron was a gentleman, making you laugh, dancing with you the whole night, making sure you were comfortable. He was perfect.

“You went to the ball with Weasley? (Y/N), you can do so much better,” Pansy laughs from behind you. “He’s a complete git.” Anger starts to rise in your chest. “You really could have anyone in this school and you chose the man who wears his brothers’ old clothes. He can barely stand up for himself, he has to let Granger fight his battles for him.”

“Will you shut it, Parkinson?” you snap. “Just because Draco didn’t ask you to the Yule Ball doesn’t mean you have to pick on everyone else’s dates because you are unhappy that you had to settle for Goyle. It’s not my fault that you get upset when people are happier than you. So how about this? Keep your opinions to yourself, because I can assure you no one wants to hear them. Not me, not Draco, no one.” Pansy’s face turns sheet white. “I like Ron. I think he’s brilliant. And I’m going to enjoy my night with him.”

The silence between you is deafening when you finish. Pansy just stares at you as you catch your breath from yelling at her. You hear someone clear their throat behind you. Spinning around, you see Ron behind you. You wished you could feel embarrassed right now, but you don’t. You just grab his hand and leave a shocked Pansy behind. “Merlin, remind me not to make you angry,” Ron diffuses the situation, brilliantly. You laugh at him before intertwining your fingers, leaving the Ball behind and escaping to your signature spot.

Draco leaves the hall and sees you leaving with Ron, hands clasped together. “Can you believe her?” Pansy asks Draco.

Draco just looks at Pansy. “I don’t care who she’s with. As long as she’s happy and they make her happy. That’s all you should care about too,” he speaks before walking away from Pansy with Crabbe and Goyle not too far behind him.

Soon, you and Ron arrive to Black Lake and sit beside each other on the grass in your ball attire, not caring if it gets dirty at this point. You look out at the lake as it shimmers in the moonlight. The night was beautiful. Just chilly. Ron immediately notices you shiver and without hesitation, he takes off his suit jacket and places it over your shoulders. “You don’t have to,” you insist.

“Yes, I do. Don’t want you to get sick now, do we?” Ron smiles at you, wrapping an arm behind you carefully as you lean into him. 

The two of you sit in a comfortable silence, you resting your head on his shoulder as he lays his head on yours. “What did you have to grab from your room?” you curiously ask him. 

You can feel Ron smile against your hair. “Reach into my jacket pocket. The left one.” You do so and pull out a small red rose. Its petals were lightly crushed from being pushed into his suit jacket pocket. You look up at Ron, eyebrows furrowed as if to say what’s this all about? “I wanted to get you a whole bouquet, but they wouldn’t have fit in my pocket,” he jokes as you laugh. “I like you, (Y/N). A lot. I like spending time with you and being around you. You make me happy. So, I wanted to ask you if you wanted to be my girlfriend?” 

His confidence is palpable. You’d been rubbing off on him. He must have been rubbing off on you because there is a deep shade of red on your cheeks, you feel almost unable to speak. You finally find the words and say, “Of course I’ll be your girlfriend, Weasley.”

Ron smiles big and just gawks at you. “You’re my girlfriend now?”

“I’m your girlfriend,” you repeat as he laughs. “And you’re my little lion now.”

The two of you just look at each other for a moment before he speaks, “I’m going to kiss you...if that’s okay.” You nod your head and close the gap in between you two. The kiss is gentle and his lips are soft against yours. He kisses you like he is afraid of breaking you. His hand cups your cheek, pulling you in closer. You smile lightly into the kiss before pulling away slowly. “Bloody hell,” he whispers, inches from your face. “I’m so glad that this went better than I expected,” he admits as you laugh at your boyfriend.

[aliciazamfroma2z]

Sharing a few of my poems to jump start my tumblr participation;)

The Power of a demisexual

Appearing prudish, she manifests into a wildfire burning at a festival.

Love is her addiction, describes herself as a demisexual.

When she gets her manicured claws into you,

Your appetite for her spreads faster than the 24-hour flu.

What can we expect a defenseless man to do!

She ignores you until you prove to her that you're a worthy delicacy.

Bringing out emotions w/words that haven't been discovered even through entelechies.

Once the fasting ends, she offers the unquenchable feast of feasts.

What drives you mad is how this little woman has you doing backflips.

No one has had that power over your heart cuz you've held such a firm grip.

Hold on tight and enjoy the ride.

At this point, you will hand over a paper bag filled with your pride.

Things in the rearview mirror may be further than u dream or closer than u dare

The closer I get to home, the further away i feel.

The more money they have, the less they pay for-You know the deal.

The puppy is so ugly, that he's cute.

He's so impatient that it's no longer worth the commute.

His mistress is too dirty for a Golden Shower.

He's too clean to tell her off with profanity.fucking coward.

Baby it feels so wrong that it must be right.

Either way I'm gonna keep it tight and write it out til two wrongs make us right.

My directional skills are bad so if I say go right, you should go left

And you'll be surprised to know that left is right all along. R u deaf?

I study you so much that I don’t need to cheat.

If I'm with u,don't insult me by assuming I'm capable of deceit.

Your silent treatment is giving me a headache.

But silence is better than the alternative if it's going to be fake.

Why do you need to hate me to love me?

Is this your version of fight or flee?

Are you afraid that you will love me so much that I’ll hate you?

You want me so bad,I think I'll just rape you.

SO tired that I can’t sleep.

Yet, 8 hours in bed awake with you, I feel Ive aged beyond 70.

I’m smart enough to know when they think I'm stupid.

So don't treat me like I'm a new kid.

In fact, by letting them think they are smarter

I'm in the position of power.

They think I'm so sweet that they are unprepared for sour.

Pity Sex?

Is this the new way to get sex

from "your complicated ex"?

Or is this the guilt u put on the naive girl that's next?

"I haven't had sex in months, I'm going to explode!

The girls aren't giving out,

maybe it's the corona virus over load.

Or am I so ugly that they overlook the depth in my soul?"

"No, you're cute until you open your mouth.

With your lack of chivalry, you'd be shot if you tried that down south.

I have been celibate for years and I'm proud.

It'll be a true gentleman to get inside of me.

Reserved for someone who's kind, stimulates my mind,

connecting spiritually.

I keep it real, you call me a tease.

I'm blunt after I roll one, u say I'm mean.

If you want the truth,

in all honesty,

Don't mistake it for the third degree...

I politely suggest that you keep your shenanigans where they ought to be.

I don't do small talk since you can't acknowledge that I'm out of your league..

My advice is priceless but I'll give it to you on sale, for a small fee.

5 minutes for just $100 plus tip please.

Most importantly,

After im done,ill be quick to leave.

No copyright or you will be bargaining more than just a plea.

Peace, love and hopefully a new residency

in a town far, far away from me. "

Sincerely, your barking up the wrong tree. 🌴

[themadauthorshatter]

OTP PARENT HEADCANONS PART 2

Because I'm bored.

And I want to give myself some serotonin.

And because I've put this off for a long time😅

RED QUEEN:

Shade and Coriane were never afraid of monsters under their beds because Cal would "scare them away" with a really bright flashlight.

Both children have a little bit of buidling and tinkering in them. Shade showed it by switching out lightbulbs and pointed out the ones he was putting in would be better at being adjusted than the ones before and Coriane showed it by fixing a clock.

Mare isn't exactly the best at cooking, but she's at least better than Cal. And her mother; sorry, Ruth.

Both children are excellent swimmers, much to Cal's chagrin.

Coriane remembers meeting her great Nanabel, and the smile she had at the sight of her great granddaughter.

Shade didn't really have a chance to meet her.

Both children wish they could have met their uncle on their mother's side and uncle, grandfather, and grandmother on their father's side.

Both Samos siblings are allowed to see the children, and neither of the children were excited; they'd heard "scary stories" about them and their father, who sounds scary; no, Cal didn't make it clear that Volo was dead, all he said was the Samos patriarch had fallen down and didn't get up, so they assumed that meant he couldn't use his arms anymore.

They were all pretty surprised to meet each other.

Ptolemus was more like a fun uncle than the berserker they all knew.

He did explain that Volo did indeed fall, but couldn't get up because of how high he fell.

The electricons love how entertained the children are with their lightning abilities.

Tyton is a pretty good babysitter. Coriane is allowed to stay up, but only after Shade has gone to bed.

Kilorn is not allowed to teach either child how to swim; there was an 'incident' where Cal tried to be brave and go swimming and Kilorn scared the living hell out of him.

That's fine because neither children like swimming.

Yes. Just because the children are good at swimming doesn't mean they enjoy it.

Mare has told Gisa she doesn't need to make the children outfits, but Gisa did it anyway because she loves her niece and nephew.

The court ettique stuck with Cal, which has led to him raising the children to be very formal.

SCHOOL FOR GOOD AND EVIL(I'm naming Tedros and Agatha's son Anthony):

Both parents were kind of scared Anthony was mute because he didn't start talking until he was nearly a year old. He's not mute, he just doesn't talk much.

You have to catch him at just the right moment. Anthony is completely silent around large crowds or assemblies, but with his parents he's half of a chatterbox, at least.

Anthony and Agatha can have full conversations with nothing but facial expressions.

Tedros had a hard time getting Anthony to open up to him, and decided to give the boy space for a little bit.

It was absolutely worth it for the heart to heart they had.

Hester and Anadil hate kids, but Agatha's and Tedros's little demon spawn is the only exception to that statement.

Anadil was won over by how he didn't cry and even 'said' how her rats were cute.

Hester, however, only warmed up to him when she spent a longer time with him, and after getting a chance to watch him because Aunt Sophie kept stepping in.

On one such occasion, where Anthony was surprised by Hester's watching him, the boy was overjoyed to see her, hugging her closely. He then backed up and stepped back, giving her a wave and smile. As she understood his silence better than Sophie, Hester wrote to him on a paper, 'Did you miss me THAT much?' Anthony nodded and wrote back, 'Yes!'

Sophie is not a helicopter aunt, but she loves Anthony a bit too much for his liking.

She NEVER talks about how she'd been hoping he was a girl.

Anthony isn't a fan of pink, but he doesn't hate it. Pastel is fine. Anything more vibrant makes him puke.

Both Tedros and Agatha were surprised to see how good Anthony was on horse back.

Heart attack angst moment: A former supporter of Rhian and Japeth snuck into the castle and made an assassination attempt on the royal family, more specifically Anthony. Tedros threw his son behind him and drew hus sword and Agatha shot a spell at him and proceeded to tackle him to the ground, not caring about her dress or the fact that the assailant was still armed.

Anthony colud not watch the execution because he hates bloodshed. He's a vegetarian/vegan and tries to eat as little meat as possible because he often spends time in the stables and around animals.

Agatha and Tedros are aware of this and are okay with it, though Tedros has him eat a single steak for dinner and teo eggs for breakfast once a month on seperate occasions, just so he doesn't lack any iron or protein.

To clarify, by separate occasions, I mean that Anthony will eat the steak one day and the eggs later another day within the month. After that, he can indulge in as much vegan/vegetarian food as he wants.

Have fun trying to convince Tedros and Agatha to let him attend the SGE; it's not that they have unpleasant memories, they just want him to try and have as normal of a life as possible.

On a walk, and when the Tagatha child was a teen, Tedros noticed some girls trying to flirt with Anthony and that his son barely reciprocated their actions. He pointed out that they were showing an interest in him, and Anthony admitted that he knew and he just didn't really feel the same way; he didn't exactly see why they were so flirty when he didn't feel like giving it back to them.

NIGHTMARE BEFORE CHRISTMAS(The triplets I'm naming Jacob, the eldest boy, Luna, the middle girl, and Daemon, the youngest boy):

Jacob is 98% the triplets' father; he'd be a spitting image if it weren't for his mop of hair, he's sharp as a whip, but still puts the E in idiot(please tell me you git that Jenna Marbles reference!!!).

Luna is arguably the smartest, but good luck getting a, 'you don't say' out of her. She won't tell you she's smarter than you, she will show you. Good thing Jack and Sally keep her in check.

Daemon is the family's "underdog." He has the last minute, 'this will work,' Jack Sparrow plans. He's quiet, he sews, he sings, and if he's not trailing behind Jack, Sally, or his siblings, he's probably touching up his clothes.

Jacob was the idiot kid that got electrocuted to the point his red hair turned black. He barely remembers it, but now all he tastes is cold peanut butter. Daemon has often suggested and offered to do it again, but Luna stops him. Pro: he's spending more time with Luna and Jacob is safe. Con: he's spending time with LUNA and Jacob still doesn't remember.

Jacob, as the oldest, attends 'meetings' with Jack and the Mayor. It doesn't bore him, he just gets tired of the Mayor's whining.

Jacob doesn't get Christmas. Luna has the basic idea of it. Daemon is the only one that understands, but doesn't explain it fully out of spite; Jacob called him scatter brained because of an incident where, at the table, a cockroach crawled out of his eye socket.

Daemon is the only one of his siblings to have eyes.

Even though she's literal bone, Luna has stitches that are very close to Sally's.

Neither Jack nor Sally have nicknames for the children, besides terms of endearment.

You know you're in trouble when Jack looks at you and looks ready to dig your grave himself.

All three triplets have Jack's fire power, but no one's gotten hurt because of it, even though Jacob and Daemon had one close call.

Neither parent would ever even dream of raising a hand against the children.

It's safe to say that Luna and Sally use common sense the most out of all five of the family members.

Daemon smells like pumpkin and cinnamon. He finds both himself, cinnamon bark and small, apple-esque pumpkins, and eats them like skittles and popcorn.

Another result of the electrocution, Jacob is hard of hearing where is left ear would be, if he had ears. He can't hear at all in the "ear." Not even a ringing sound.

The only reason Jacob doesn't like something is because he doesn't get it. At all.

Luna sees the glass as half full, Daemon sees the glass as half empty, and wonder if it belongs to someone who drank out of said glass, hence its being hald empty, and Jacob just sees a glass of water, now can he just drink the rest?

Luna, the best with herbs, has poisoned her brothers. Sally found out and she was grounded.

Daemon, to see how much he could take, dived off the roof of Dr. Finkelstein's tower. It took Jack, Sally, Luna, Jacob, and Zero all day to collect all of him. He was grounded and locked in his room.

Jacob got grounded for a few things: setting his sister on fire(no one knows who started that fight.), hiding in a morgue to scare people only to end up falling asleep, even as they tried to cremate him, and then waking up in front of the humans, pretending to be one of the hanging men on The Hanging Tree, and dancing on top of the tallest Pyramid in Egypt.

The children do misbehave sometimes, but their parents love them.

Jack and Jacob don't see eye to eye exactly, but they still get each other.

Luna loves both her brothers, but she will hang out with Daemon more than Jacob.

Daemon has a lot of glow sticks he collected and they all still glow when it gets dark. Jacob used his thinking cap and had a moment of big brain time, and drank some of the glow stick juice.

One more thing he got in trouble for.

Daemon also got in trouble, but he was allowed to keep his glow sticks.

Luna is a good singer, Daemon is a great dancer, and Jacob is the best at succeeding their father