#yes I write all my essays with a quill and ink

[mornings-of-gold]

Academic Labyrinth essay coming up!

My wonderful English professor let me use Labyrinth for my movie review essay. Hehe

I got a bit carried away.

Whoops

[fuckmymunson]

🌻 “forfeit, loser, competition” / remus lupin / nsfw

𝐒𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐫 — 𝐑𝐞𝐦𝐮𝐬 𝐋𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐧

♡ CW: Professor!Remus x Student!Reader relationship, SMUT 18+, oral sex (m), unprotected sex, (kind of) dirty talk. Reader is of age and consents to this relationship! Not proofread! | Word count: 2.9k | Minors DNI! ♡ a/n: 200 flowers request! Thank you <3. Ugh, have I mention how much I love this man?

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Quills up, everyone.” Professor Lupin’s voice echoed in the spacious classroom, earning himself a small groan from the group of seventh-years. “Don’t worry, now your exams are my problem.”

Standing up, picking your bag and following your friends you felt a light tap on your shoulder, turning around you lifted your eyes looking at Professor Lupin. “Yes? Professor.” You asked with a gentle smile.

“You dropped this, darling.” Hiding your amusing smile at the pet name, you remained professional when he handed you the golden quill you particularly used for this test. “A very nice quill this is.”

“Thank you, Professor.” The title rolled down your lips in a bewitching manner, making him smile. “It’s my lucky quill, I use it on every test.” Tucking it in the safety of your bag, you felt amused at how dangerously close you were to being caught. 

“Well, I’m sure you will ace this test.” He smiled at you, the signature smile that made every student melt in their spot, you included.

“I learned from the best.” You giggled softly and followed your friends to the next class. 

“What the hell was that?” One of your friends inquired, nudging you with her shoulder. 

“I don’t know what you're talking about.” Playing innocently was one of your favourite activities, it only added more character to your overall smart girl look, always the one with the highest grades and a rising star.

Truth be told, even if you were quite smart, even smarter than the average, you had a little tiny secret, one that could ruin your entire reputation and perhaps get you expelled from Hogwarts: A golden quill capable of writing all the right answers, words and mark the right dots on any test, essay or parchment. It was absolutely prohibited, and even with something so powerful in your lovely hands, you used it less than two times in a full school period. 

Honourably granted by the one and only Weasley twins, who happen to owe you a big one after you lied for them, saving them from being expelled from school, a long story, a very funny too. At first glance, it looked like a simple golden quill, perhaps a little smaller than average sure, but stereotypical girls liked smaller things because they were so cute! Fred and George took an insanely amount of time and effort into conjuring new spells, jinxes and maybe even a curse, if anyone tried to reveal its secrets, the quill will automatically explode and the ink would be so dense and heavy, it was hopeless to even try and wash it, not even with the strongest whitening spell. They encouraged you to try it in your fifth year when you complained for a week straight about how you were definitely going to fail Snape’s test. 

“M’lady… for your grades you shall not cry anymore!” Fred spoke exaggeratedly, you scoffed annoyed while the twins sandwiched you between their arms.

“We have an invention that will shake you from your head to your wand’s core!” George joined his brother, the registered Weasley smile plastered on their freckled faces. 

“Just tell me what the new toy is, I have to study for potions.” Rolling your eyes, you giggled at their antics, having a soft spot for their sense of humour. 

“Toy?” They exclaimed in unison, offended. 

“Whatever.” With another eye roll, they laughed and continued with their presentation, as teasing as these two could be.

“We present to you: The Snap n’ gold!” And right there, in the desk of the empty classroom they dragged you into, a golden quill appeared, smaller than yours, with a hint of platinum sparkles in the golden patterns. “Go on, try it.” Next to the quill, a white parchment appeared as well. “What’s 2316 x 6019?” They continued speaking as one, hinting you how long they planned this.

“How the hell am I supposed to know that?” 

“Let the Snap n’ gold work its wonders, my dear.” Fred’s smile widened.

“And only the right answers shall appear.” George closed the rhyme with his best impression of a Victorian pose.

Since when this was an arithmancy pop quiz?

Either way, you watched amazed at how the quill moved your hand in such a natural way it seemed you were the one writing. “It says 13,940, 004”

“Correct!” The twins exclaimed, cheering you and of course, themselves. 

That's how you crushed your potions test, and even Professor Snape was a bit surprised by your sudden improvement. He wasn’t easy to fool, but you did, and it felt so good. With great power, comes great responsibility, so you promised yourself and your intelligence, to only use the infamous Snap n’ gold in cases of emergency, an emergency being a test you knew you had no chance of even reaching a Poor grade. So, while you tempted your golden luck by accidentally leaving the quill on your desk after a test done by none other than Remus Lupin, the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor; You were so confident by always getting away with it, that this time, you even let yourself tease the possibility of being caught, enjoying the danger.

A few days later, relaxing at the castle grounds, being one of the many carefree students who didn’t have to worry about your grade, a sudden tap on your shoulder made you jolt on the stone bench. Turning around, your eyes met a set of amber eyes that belonged to the only man capable to decipher the lies within your worst subjects. 

“I’m sorry to interrupt your weekend.” Professor Lupin could interrupt you in your sleep and you wouldn’t even be bothered, but this time, the look in his eyes could only mean one thing. “But I’m afraid we need to discuss something in my office.”

You were in deep, deep trouble.

The walk to his classroom and therefore to his private office was the longest and most torturous walk you had ever experienced in your seven years of school. Heart pounding wildly inside your chest, hands sweaty, feeling about to throw up the elves' spaghetti you victoriously devoured that afternoon. Taking a seat in front of his desk, you gulped when you saw a familiar parchment on top of his desk, your test.

“I’ll be straightforward, I don’t want to take more of your time than necessary.” Professor Remus cleared his throat and handed you his kindest smile, which didn’t soothe your nerves at all. “Your test was the highest of your group, perhaps from your whole generation, darling.”

Oh.

“Professor McGonagall is pleased, as you can imagine, she cherishes you quite fondly. She asked me to offer you to compete in a national DADA debate club, of course, with your learning you would be a great factor in the team, you seem to have a vast knowledge of dark creatures.” He did in fact notice how washed out your expression was as if he was speaking another language. “So, what do you say? Feel free to take your time.”

“I—” The words were struggling, a lot. “I—I’m honoured, Professor. Is j—just that… um.I” 

Come on, come on! Think about something, quick!. You screamed at yourself, desperate. 

“I’m not very good at competitions, S—Sir. I would really like to participate, but if I’m being honest, I’m not that skilled in the subject and—.”

“That’s nonsense! Darling.” Lupin tapped your test, still smiling. “You wrote things I am yet to teach you! To me, that means you’re gifted.”

The debate inside your head was between good and bad, you could A): Tell him the truth, beg for forgiveness, accept 100 detentions with Hagrid at the Forbidden forest just to not be expelled, or B): Keep the act, play it cool, accept his offer and fail at trying to help on a topic you had no clue of.

“Is everything alright?” Professor Lupin looked at you, rather worried. “If you need to take your space and time to think about it, is fine. As long as you are truthful and honest with your decision.”

He knew. The bastard knew. And he was playing with you.

“Fuck.” You muttered under your breath, completely and utterly caged, cornered, trapped. 

“What was that?” He asked, lifting an eyebrow, expectant.

“Icheatedonthetest” You muttered as quickly as you could, grinding your teeth in embarrassment. 

“Pardon?”

“I. Cheated. On. The. Test.” Lowering your gaze, you sighed, feeling ashamed of yourself. 

“See, that wasn’t that hard.” Lupin laughed. Something that replaced your embarrassment with confusion. “You were very smart, almost fooled me. But the second you mentioned how you used it on every test, well, let’s say it caught my attention. I noticed it was slightly smaller than average, and the second I touched it, I knew.” How couldn’t he? The man who, unbeknownst to you, made a similar spell just for a map that could trace every single soul in the castle and its surroundings. 

“I’m sorry, if you’re going to accuse me with Professor McGonagall then I deserve it.” The tears appeared fast, making him frown.

“I’m not going to, darling.” From his desk, he handed you some tissues. “I know is against the rules, but it is such a clever and unique spell, you should be recognized for the effort and dedication, even if it was for the wrong reasons.” Biting your lips, you swore not to throw Fred and George under the bus, they already had a list so long that it could fill the entire great hall, and you didn’t want to contribute to that list. “At least not me, personally. You’re going to McGonagall's office, explain to her you cheated on the test, she would instantly disqualify you from the list and, you will be forfeited and banned from every other competition there is in what’s left of your school year, you will not mention the quill, of course, just say something banal, perhaps some notes you stuck on your desk, a common muggle thing. I’m sure she will give detention, and perhaps a few house points will be deducted, but—”

“Is either that or being expelled.” You finished his sentence, earning a nod on his part.

“Clever girl.” He smiled, again, this time it felt genuine. 

Why did he have to look so handsome when he smiled?

It was now or never. It was a foul move, for sure. But perhaps it was your only choice.

“Professor.” You gained all of the courage you had, battering your eyelashes at him. “Is there another way I could make my punishment less… severe?”

As if you weren't dying to try it.

His smirk completely changed into a quizzical look, weighing your words, your voice, and your actions. “What are you suggesting, dear, is there something in your mind?”

Standing up, ignoring the way your legs trembled in nervousness (and anticipation), you stood next to him, shivering at how he turned his chair to face you, manspreading and looking directly into your eyes, an unspoken question lingering in the thick air. Under his penetrative gaze, you kneeled in front of him, resting the palm of your hands on his knees. “Are you sure of this?” He asks, placing a hand on your cheek, thumb caressing the warm skin. “You don’t have to.”

“I want to.” The confident look in your eyes made him smile once again, but that particular smile— had you throbbing. 

“Go on, then.” 

Your hands reached for his belt, unbuckling it and undoing the buttons and zipper of his trousers, Professor Lupin helped you by lifting his hips from the chair so you could slip them off to his thighs, and you felt excited at the growing bulge in between his legs. You would be lying if you didn’t dream about this often, often than intended. But having the real thing right in front of you, was something else. 

And it sure was something else. He was bigger than you could even imagine, slightly curved and your eyes travelled along the veins of his now hard cock, he enjoyed you staring, even feeling a bit flattered by it. “I thought you wanted to make your punishment less severe, darling.” The pet name rolled down his lips in a way that only fueled your lust. You wanted him and you wanted him now. Tracing that large vein with your tongue, your stomach flipped at the groan that escaped his lips. Wasting no time, you eased him into your mouth, slowly at first, trying and succeeding at making him feel good, taking your sweet time to adjust at his length and girth, and Remus as the gentleman he was, waited until you were sliding inch after inch inside your pretty mouth. 

His hand was pressed over your head, encouraging you to keep going, to take him deeper, but never pushing you all the way in. He fought against the moans that threatened the silence of his office, the door was unlocked but that made the whole thing even better. His hips rolled upwards, eager to feel more of your warm tongue all around him. You hummed in pleasure, feeling your own arousal pooling between your legs, wondering if it would feel as good as he did on your mouth. You were almost this close to deepthroating him, taking it as a personal challenge, when he pushed you away gently by cupping your face. 

“Get on the desk, and spread your legs.” His voice allowed no disobedience, and Godric did it made you a little bit wetter. Following his command in an instant, you thanked the Gods for wearing a skirt that day, it was your favourite one, not long enough to be a prude but not short enough to break any uniform dressing code, and when his large hands slid the fabric, exposing your drowned underwear, you were so happy to be wearing a skirt. “Hmm.” He approved your squirming form, pressing his finger against your clothed mound, making you jolt. “Perhaps we can negotiate your punishment after all.”

Once your damped underwear was hanging loosely over your ankle, Professor Lupin traced a finger across your fold, gathering the slick and spreading it across your cunt, quickly finding your clit and circling it softly, steady, knowing exactly how to make you gasp and twitch. His fingers compared to yours were like comparing… fuck, you couldn’t think about a proper comparison, being too spellbound by the stretching feeling of two fingers scissoring your tight cunt, preparing you for him.

“Can’t believe my golden student cheated on a test.” He whispered in your ear, sending a shiver down your spine, another curl, another moan. “I thought you were so smart, sweetheart, perhaps you’re nothing more than a loser.” Oh, the words, did they make you clench around his fingers. “Hmmm, that’s it, good girl. I’m sure you had this all planned, waiting for the perfect moment to offer me that slutty mouth of yours.”

“P—Please, Professor.” You gasped when a third finger intimidated your entrance, it burned so deliciously. 

“Tell me, bunny.” He cooed, making your head feel dizzy, clouded in pleasure. “What do you want?” Not removing his fingers, he pumped himself a few times, ready to line up with your leaking entrance.

“You, inside m—me, please.” The loss of contact and stimulation made you whine, though the instant you felt the swollen tip of his cock teasing your folds, you spread your legs a little bit more and whined a little bit louder. “Please, l—let me cum over your cock, Remus.”

You were definitely something else as well, and he couldn’t deny how much (despite the guilt and self hatre) he longed for this. The risk of getting caught doing something so prohibited was the experience of a lifetime. Just like it was to be welcomed by the pulsating feeling of your lovely thigh cunt squeezing him beyond imaginable. Remus was in heaven.

“F—Fuck.” He bottomed for a moment, his hands on your hips, carefully sliding in. “So tight, so warm, such a pretty pussy, perfect for a bratty student like you.” The combination of words and movements had you in that state of dizziness,  wrapping your legs around his hips, pushing him until he was balls deep, both of you moaning at the pleasant feeling. “You want me to move? Baby?” He asked, kissing your neck, you nodded earning you a bite on your neck. “Words, darling.”

“Please move R—Remus, I want to feel you using me.” Magic words. Soon you were drooling, eyes rolling at the back of your skull, not even remembering when he rolled up your shirt and bra and started licking and nipping at your adorable tits, making you almost scream in delight. 

With every snap of his hips, you were closer and closer, and then it hit you, like a giant and crashing wave, your body pulsated and clenched around him, almost possessively. Remus groaned at the feeling, so he kept pounding. “Where do you want me? Bunny.” He inquired, hoarsely, biting his lip and kissing your breast, trying to hold himself until you spoke.

After a few tries and a few incoherences being babbled, you managed to look at him and cupped his face with shaky hands, the most life-changing orgasm still possessing your body. “I—Inside me, please.”

“You sure?” And this time you breathed a tired yes and it was the end of him.

Being filled to the brim by your favourite professor was a new feeling you were now addicted to.

Helping you get dressed, sitting you on his lap, kissing your face, complimenting the way you took him so well, like such a good girl. You finally returned to a normal state of mind, legs still sore but with a stupid lovesick smirk, he had never seen in a person. Before leaving his classroom, you felt how his cum rolled down your thigh, making you bite your lip, turning back to see how he was tucking your white underwear into one of his drawers. “Go to Minnie’s office, loser, I’ll be waiting for you here after dinner.” Blowing him a kiss, you giggled.

Maybe being a loser wasn’t that bad

Sorry for any mistakes! English is not my first language. I appreciate any feedback!˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

[theweasleysredhair]

How To Steal A Book (And a Heart) [F.W.]

Character: Fred Weasley

Word Count: 1494

Requested?: Yes/No

Summary: Fred is annoying the reader in the library; first by stealing her book, then by stealing her heart.

Tags: @dreamer821 @gracemayhateyou @criminalyetminimal @firewhisky-kisses @obsessedwithrandomthings @angelinathebook @iprobablyshipit91 @potterverseimagine @slytherineheir @kpopgirlbtssvt @rexorangecouny @wand3ringr0s3 @sehunasbitch @cryingforcrystalpepsi @kashishwrites @girl-next-door-writes @susceptible-but-siriusexual @crissdanvers @besitos-41 @heart-of-tempered-steel @mytreec | message or send an ask to be added/removed!

Disclaimer: Gif isn't mine, credit to whoever made it

A/n: this was requested by my girl erica ( @ickle-ronniekins ) - hope you enjoy m’love!! ❤️

~*~

PLEASE DO NOT REPOST MY WORK! REBLOGS ARE ABSOLUTELY FINE! <3

+ + + + +

“Give it back,” you held your hand out to him, raising an eyebrow pointedly as he stood, smirking down at you.

“I don’t want to,” Fred licked his bottom lip and shot you a cheeky smile, lifting the book up just as you tried to reach up for it. You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest, “Give it here, Fred.”

He shook his head, leaning against the nearest bookcase and faking a yawn as he kept moving the book out of your reach.

“If I say I love you, would you let me keep it?” He asked with a grin, watching at the way you became flustered, stammering out your response.

“No!”

“Damn it. Worth a try,” he placed the book on his head, trying to get it to balance as you glared up at him, “Please just give me my book back.”

He moved his head, causing the book to fall but he caught it effortlessly and continued to keep it away from you, “I don’t know, I think I’m gonna have to keep a hold of this one.”

“And why is that,” you asked, exasperated and throwing your arms up in the air dramatically to emphasise your words.

“Well, I guess I can’t hide it anymore, but you see... I just- I love books! Especially,” he paused, turning the book the right away up and reading the title, “Advanced Rune Translation - you don’t actually find this interesting, do you?”

You rolled your eyes, though you and he both knew you weren’t actually too mad at him, “As a matter of fact, I do. Just because your only interest is pranking doesn’t mean mine is!”

He scoffed in mock hurt, “‘S not true, love, I have another interest.”

“And what might that be?” You deadpanned, “Annoying people?”

“That’s insulting. But no, my other interest is you, darling,” he grinned, again enjoying the way his words affected you.

“How touching,” you grumbled, running a hand through your hair and pulling your cloak further around yourself.

“I’ll touch you-“

“Fred!”

“What?” He looked at you innocently, though you could see the hint of a smirk playing at his lips.

“Oh for Godric’s sake,” you sighed, shaking your head at him and deciding to sit back down in the chair at the table, resting your chin on your hands as you pouted at the essay you’d half written, that was sat in front of you.

“You seem stressed, love,” Fred stated, pushing off the bookcase and collapsing into the chair across from you, tucking your Runes textbook under his arm.

“I am stressed, actually,” you said, staring at the essay.

“And why might that be?” He asked, though he knew exactly why, and just wanted to get under your skin.

“Well I’m not sure really,” you said sarcastically, “Possibly because a certain twin is bothering me?”

Fred’s jaw dropped almost comically, “I’ll have a word with George then, don’t you worry, love! Can’t have him bothering you, can I!”

“You infuriate me,” you grumbled.

He smirked cheekily at you, “I hope I do other things to you too, love.”

“Oh yes, plenty of other things,” you watched as his face lit up before dropping as you continued on, “Infuriate, annoy, bother...”

“I can make you bothered in another way if you want,” he replied, wiggling his eyebrows at you suggestively.

“Fred.”

“What, love?” He asked, putting on his innocent face again and making you roll your eyes for the umpteenth time.

You grit your teeth, choosing to ignore him, and grabbed your quill, angrily finishing the sentence you were previously writing, but not being able to make a new point considering the book you were using for reference had been stolen from you.

“You seem very tense, darling, I can help you out with that if you want. I have some ideas that are very efficient in easing tension,” Fred lifted his legs up onto the table and leant back in his chair, “They involve me, you, preferably a bed - though I’m not picky - and-“

“Please don’t finish that sentence,” you interrupted him quickly, even though you were quite wanting to know what he was going to say if you were honest.

“You get the picture,” he nodded, grinning.

“I do get the picture, thank you very much.”

There was a silence as you tried to remember what was written in the book to start a new point in your essay. Fred watched the way your eyebrows furrowed in thought, the way your soft lips were pursed and he smiled to himself, bringing his bottom lip between his teeth as he revelled in your beauty, his eyes travelling from your soft eyelashes down to the curve of your nose. He really fancied you, more than he’d fancied anyone before.

You frowned as your mind went blank as you tried to think about what to write next, unaware of Fred’s gaze upon you, before you sighed, grabbing your parchment, quill and ink and shoving them into your bag. You pushed your chair out and went to stand up, Fred copying your actions frantically, “Where are you going?”

“Well I can’t do my essay because you have my book, if you’ll recall, so I’m going to the kitchens to get some food instead,” you said to him, pulling your bag onto your shoulder.

He frowned, feeling bad now you couldn’t do your essay because of him teasing you, even though he was well aware you weren’t mad at him at all.

“I’ll come with you,” he said, as he followed you out of the library, “Maybe I’ll even give you your book back if you share a meal with me.”

“Fred Weasley, are you asking me on a date?” You gasped mockingly, turning back to him with wide eyes.

“Well I did ask you to join me in bed, but you weren’t as keen on that idea so I thought I’d dial it back a tad,” he joked.

“Who said I wasn’t keen?” You stepped towards him, making him step back and hit the wall behind him.

You stepped closer, standing just in front of him now, reaching up on your tip toes so your face was in line with his, so close you could feel how his breath hitched, and you felt the hand not holding your book grab your waist as he waited for you to do something - anything.

“I think you’ll find that I’m very keen,” you whispered, leaning closer to him, meaning you could feel his warm breath hitting your lips, as his eyes fluttered closed, him tilting his head towards yours, and you brushing your lips against his ever so softly, making him move instinctively closer to you.

Just as he tried to close that small gap between you to properly kiss you, you pulled away, moving out of his arms and grabbing your book quickly before turning around without a second glance as you made you way down the hallway.

Fred’s eyes widened and his mouth dropped, half scoffing as he pushed himself off the wall and began running after you, “Hey, wait up!”

You slowed your walking, biting your lip as you waited for him to catch up. He span you by your waist round to face him, causing you to drop your book though neither of you seemed to care, your chest pressed flush against his as he playfully scolded you, his eyes flickering from your eyes down to your lips and back up again, “You can’t make a guy think you’re gonna kiss him and then don’t!”

You opened your mouth to respond but instead were met with Fred’s lips pressing against yours, properly this time; a kiss that was needy and desperate but rough at the same time. He pulled you up closer to him, your arms wrapping around his neck and running through his hair as he let out a groan against your lips when he felt you pull at the tufts of hair closer to the back of his neck.

Fred had imagined kissing you before - a lot, in fact - but none of his thoughts lived up to how it actually felt to have your lips against his own, your hands running down his body and for him to have his hands squeezing your hips. He felt lightheaded, wanting to continue on but knowing he would have to pull away for a breather soon. He compromised, pulling away a little to take a breath, but continuing pressing more kisses to your lips, not being able to help himself.

He finally rested his forehead against yours, groaning as you bit your swollen lip and looked up at him with a dazed look in your eye, hair a mess and tie askew. He grinned, licking his own lips as he squeezed your waist, before repeating his words from before,

“If I say I love you, will you let me keep you?”

[fandom-puff]

Adequate Punishment

Pairing: Severus Snape x reader

Requested by: @darkthought15

Summary: After finding your old uniform, you decide to surprise your husband...

Warnings: Smut, spanking, unprotected sex, Schoolgirl roleplay, swearing

Gif creds to owner.

Rooting through your wardrobe, the box at the back caught your eye. Looking over your shoulder and biting your lip, you opened up the box. The contents caused a wide smile to spread across your face.

Severus was hunched over his desk, his quill scratching angry red ink over his OWL class essays, muttering under his breath as he scribbled his comments. You watched him for a moment, before clearing your throat. “Are you almost done?” You asked coyly, and Severus could practically feel your mischievous gaze searing into his back.

“Patience, dear,” he said, his low baritone voice making you shudder. “One more essay,”

You pouted. “Oh, but professor... I’ve been waiting so long,”

Severus froze and frowned to himself. Why were you calling him Professor? You had been married three years... Severus turned around in his chair, and when he caught sight of you, his jaw almost hit the floor. There you were, stood against the door, dressed in your old uniform. Severus gulped, eyes raking over your body hungrily. Your white blouse was tight against your breasts, the top few buttons undone, revealing the swell of your breasts; your HC tie was dangling temptingly over your breasts; your black pleated skirt was hitched up, revealing a considerable amount of thigh, and your thigh high socks finished in your sensible black shoes. Severus’s lips curled into a displeased snarl.

“You’re late for your detention, Miss YLN” he growled, using your maiden name to add to the effect. You tried to suppress your smirk, but clearly failed miserably. “Don’t you smirk at me, young lady,” Severus hissed. “I was going to let you off easily tonight... I was going to have you write out lines... ‘I must not be a little harlot in class’ one hundred times, followed by ‘I must remember to wear underwear to Professor Snape’s lessons’... clearly such menial punishment will have very little effect on your behaviour, won’t it, Miss YLN?” When you didn’t answer, he snapped, “Won’t it, Miss YLN?”

“No, professor,” you said, looking to your feet.

Severus smirked. “Don’t for one second think that acting innocent will help you now, Miss YLN. I could deduct points, or have you scrub out my cauldrons... but I think even after that, you will still be a little slut,” he was silent for a moment, before pushing out from his desk, still seated. “Over my lap then. I think an old-fashioned spanking will help you learn your lesson,”

You squeaked, biting your lip hard. You had simply expected Severus to bend you over his desk and fuck you... It seemed tonight, Severus was taking full advantage of your little gam. You hurried over to him and with his help, you balanced over his lap, swaying your arse slightly. Severus suppressed a groan at the sight and flipped your skirt up. “My, my, my, Miss YLN... emerald green lace... is this all for me?”

You grinned and looked over your shoulder. “You are the head of Slytherin aren’t you?” You remarked, gasping as Severus grasped a fistful of your hair and yanked your head back.

“Watch your mouth, young lady,” he hissed, before releasing you. “You will count each spank, and thank me for each one,” he said. “And you know your colours if you want to stop?” He murmured the last part, rubbing your rump gently. You nodded, murmuring a ‘yes sir,’. Severus nodded. “Good girl,” he hummed, before his hand landed in a harsh smack. You whimpered, legs already trembling.

“O-one, sir, thank you,” you moaned out. Severus smiled gently at you, before his hand cracked down against the other cheek. As you thanked him for each hit, Severus smirked, admiring the way your flesh jigggled with the impact. By the fifteenth hit, you let out a sob, your rear end burning. “Oh, fuck! Fiftee-even! Thank you, sir!” You cried out.

Severus hoisted you up by your arm, pushing you to sit on his lap. You squirmed and whimpered as your raw arse rubbed against his stiff wooden trousers. “have you learnt your lesson, Miss YLN?” He said softly, pushing your hair out of your face where it had stuck to your tears.

“Y-yes, sir, please...” you whined, hiding your face in his neck and shifting your thighs.

“Please, what darling?” Severus smirked, before dipping his fingers between your thighs. “You’re dripping wet, even through those lovely lace knickers... did somebody enjoy her punishment?” He said, an air of condescension in his voice. You nodded eagerly, looking into his dark eyes pleadingly. “Do you want to fuck your Professor, YN?” He murmured into your ear, nipping at the lobe.

“Please,” you begged, biting your lip hard. Severus chuckled, and with a few flicks of his wand, the essays and ink and quills were removed from his desk.

“Up you get,” he mumbled. As he began unbuttoning his trousers, you undid your blouse, slinging it aside, leaving your tie on. Severus smirked at you and shoved his trousers down, pumping his cock a few times as you wriggled out of your knickers. Before you could even form the word ‘please’, Severus was pushing into you, setting a brutal pace. He yanked the cups of your bra down, leaning your body back to suck on your nipples as he pounded into you. Your voice caught in your throat as Severus ruined you, barely able to string more that two words together through your cries.

“Took your punishment so well,” he grunted, leaving dark hickeys all over your breasts and collarbones, holding your body up tightly against his. “Such a good little harlot for me, YN, aren’t you?”

“Yes!” Yes sobbed. “Please, Severus, make me cum on your cock! Please!” You begged, abandoning his title completely. Severus groaned, snapping his hips hard and fast into yours, pressing his thumb to your clit. You screamed out, arching your back as you trembled and jolted through your climax, eyes rolling back. With a few final, sloppy thrusts, Severus spilled himself inside of you, head resting on your shoulder, his long hair tickling your neck as he groaned.

“There’s a good girl,” he murmured into your ear as you wrapped your arms and legs around him. “What made you think of this?” He asked as he carried you into your bedroom. You moaned softly, still a little sensitive as you laid back, groaning as you felt the sticky mess between your thighs.

“Was looking for my green heels... found my old uniform, thought I’d have a go at playing Slutty Schoolgirl,”

Severus laughed and kissed your forehead, laying next to you after stripping. “You, my dear... are fantastic,” he grinned. “Now get some sleep, love... unless you’re up for another round,”

Tags: @a-hopeless-fan @lotsoffandomrecs @rai-strangebr @zodiyack @haphazardhufflepuff @dumbfuckinslytherin @severuslovebot @rabeccablake @sambucky8 @eleven-times-lively @talksoprettyjjx @extra-trash77 @rangerelik @dracosbbygorl @wonderwoman292 @manicclementinetreea @lilymurphy03 @fredweasleyisntdead @freddieboysgirl @fredswh0re @rogertaylorismycar @meaganjm @fanficwriter5 @shadesofbarryallen @kiwi-sloan @bbeauttyybbx @inglourious-imagines @bonniesgoldengirl @trumpsgorillagrip @blisshemmings @little-bit-of-randomness @vsarzx @eunoia-kth @liliputbahn @thestunningspell @beiahadid @courtnytrash04 @ccosmic-illusion @purpleskymalfoy @wonderwoman292 @marshxx @hogwartslut @thatslovelymoony @winchestergirl333 @sterwild

[willowbleedsonpaper]

Winter In The Shade I

Part I

Sirius Black x Ravenclaw Reader

W.C. : 2184

Requested by @amourtentiaa : It is Sirius' fifth year at Hogwarts, the same year he ran away from home and to the Potter's. Soon, he discovers the unfamiliar sight of his brother Regulus smiling and looking truly happy, next to him a Ravenclaw girl who immediately captures his interest. What will happen when the Black family gets involved in their sons lives and the ones they hold close to their hearts?

Warnings: None.

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Regulus Black. The boy who was always by himself. He never seemed to smile, never laughed, he never had something funny to say. He looked the way a living statue would, walking around the castle with a monotonous look on his face, a perfect appearance, and the most flat sound of voice. Was he even alive? Many had asked themselves as they watched him walk past them.

You were about to find out he was indeed alive and, even if he wouldn’t admit it himself, in much need of a friend.

It was late at night, several hours after dinner, when you found yourself walking to the library for the fourth time that week. You had an herbology essay to write and were in need of a lot of research if you expected a decent grade, for some reason the exact book you were looking for was always taken, and there was only one copy of said book. Just your luck! At that point you didn’t even stop to ask for the book, just walking to the shelf where you already knew the book was supposed to be.

“Damn it.” you grunted, running your hand over the spines of the books there as you reached the empty space where the book was supposed to be. You lowered your head in exasperation, starting to read over the rest of the titles there to see if one could be of any use. You tilted your head, reading the titles in low murmurs as you walked backwards. “Ouch!” you complained, your hand instantly shooting to the side of your head where the hard feeling of what you saw was a book hit you.

“Are you alright?” asked the boy with a slight furrow of his eyebrows, placing the book he held now on the table as he neared you.

You shook your head lightly, getting the pain out of your head as you gave the boy a soft smile “I’m just fine.” you sighed, running a hand through your face as your eyes landed on the table next to you “No way.” you muttered in surprise, grabbing the book by the table and holding it to his face “Did you just hit me with Flesh-Eating Trees of the World ?”

Baffled, the boy gave you a nod “I believe so.” he said, watching as a smile appeared on your face before he said “I’m… Sorry?”

“Don’t be.” you mused “You won’t be needing this anymore, would you?” you asked, the relieved look on your face as he shook his head making him even more confused but managing to bring the smallest of smiles over his features “Thanks Merlin, I've been looking for this book over four days now.”

“I just managed to get it this morning.” he told you, your mind finally snapping out of its thoughts and more on the boy next to you.

You tilted your head, looking up at him with a kind smile “Well thank you for hitting the side of my head, I really needed it.” you said “And the book, of course.” you chuckled “It’s Regulus, right? Regulus Black.”

He awaited for the inevitable Sirius’ younger brother or any kind or relation to his older brother, but when you said nothing and just stared at him waiting for his answer he limited himself to nod.

You offered your hand to him with a kind look “Y/N Y/L/N.” you introduced yourself, shaking his hand eagerly once he took hold of yours. “I should be going now, but it was really nice talking to you.” you said, grabbing your things and walking away from him. You took one last look at him, waving your hand with a smile as his head followed your movements until you were nowhere to be seen.

His hand felt tingly as if the energy from your person remained in his skin, leaving an almost warm feeling he couldn’t quite place but he found himself looking for even more. He wanted to know more about you.

*******

You spent day and night reading the book, your essay nowhere finished as you still struggled with some of the terms there. You furrowed your eyebrows, scratching the back of your head as you turn the page back “What in Merlin's name is that?” you muttered to yourself as you turned yet another page back, looking for the term you knew but didn’t remember the meaning of. Your eyes were focused over the pages, running your fingers along the lines as you took your quill and a stray piece of parchment, taking quick notes of all the information you needed to remember.

“Healing properties?” you read, writing it down as your face turned into one of disbelief “Don’t know about that one… Side effects, that’s more like it.” you mumbled, writing furiously, not even noticing the scrap of the chair against the floor as someone took the seat in front of you.

“Do you always comment on everything you're reading?”

You rolled your eyes, looking up to see who was disturbing you when your face fell and quickly turned into a surprised one “Regulus.” you breathed out with a smile “I didn’t see you there, How are you?” you asked genuinely, putting your quill down.

“I’m fine.” he said softly, motioning with his eyes to the little mess before you “Still writing the Herbology essay?”

You groaned, letting your head fall back “Sadly, yes.” you sighed “Don’t tell anyone but Herbology isn't my strong suit.”

“Then I won’t bother you any longer.” he said “Do you mind if I sit here?” he asked you and you shook your head, his eyes flashing with a glint you never thought you’d see in his eyes.

For hours, the two of you worked on silence. The ruffling of pages, quills clinking against the bottles of ink and your low murmurs as you read over and over the pages the only sounds that flowed in the air inside the small study bubble the two of you created. At times he would ask you questions, little things he didn’t quite understand and at last, you did the same.

“Regulus?” you called, the hum you got as a response making you continue “You already finished the essay, right?” you asked.

He lifted his eyes slowly, looking at you before he nodded “Yes.” he answered simply “Why?”

You took the book before you and slid it across the table, his eyebrows scrunched together as he followed your finger “Do you think you could explain this to me?” you asked, tapping the line in the book.

He broke into a small smile, nodding his head before he lifted his eyes and met yours “Only if you tell me one thing.” he said, making you curious.

“Alright.” you said doubtfully.

“How long have you been waiting to ask me that?” he asked and your jaw dropped before you could stop it.

“I-I…” you stuttered, the smile on his lips making you even more frustrated “Oh, shut it.” you grunted, fighting the smile that threatened to grow on your lips. But he raised an eyebrow as he returned to his own book, your smile finally breaking as you reached to take the book from him “Really?” you asked.

“You want your answers, I want mine.” he said calmly.

You playfully glared at him, squinting your eyes before you sighed “An hour.” you mumbled, crossing your arms over your chest.

He let out a breathy chuckle, taking the book from your hand “How Ravenclaw of you.” he said under his breath.

You smirked at the comment, leaning down on the table to get a better look of the book as you said “Your one to talk.” you said with an amused look on your face “The Slytherin that had to embarrass me first to help me.”

You both laughed at your attitudes, the smiles now permanent on your faces as the playful bickering never ended. Not that day or any other, it became a habit for the two of you to meet at the same table to study, get homework done and read the entire library out of fun.

There wasn’t a day you didn’t see him, and people started to notice.

“I’m going to the library.” you said, getting up from the spot in the grass you sat at with your friends.

“Going to see Black, again?” One of your friends asked you, the murmurs that rose from all of them making you stop.

“I am.” you said, turning to face them with a daring look “You have a problem with that?” you asked.

“Not at all.” she said, taking a look at the others surrounding her “It’s just… well, he is weird, don’t you think? Always by himself, never talks to anyone. Besides he’s a Black, nothing good can come out of that one, I’ve heard stories….”

“So you do have a problem.” you interrupted her, crossing your arms over your chest firmly “Well, you can keep your stories. And I don’t care if he is always by himself, I really don’t see the problem with that, maybe I’ll start following his example.” you spat, turning in your heel as you started to walk away.

“Y/N!” they called after you “You know we don’t mean it like that.”

“Why do you insist on spending time with him?” one of them asked.

“Because he is my friend!” you yelled, turning one last time to see them “He is my friend and I like spending time with him.” You awaited for their replies, squinting your eyes as they just stared at you with wide eyes, or what you thought it was you until you followed their gaze over your shoulder “What?” you snapped, turning sharply to find none other than Regulus standing behind you.

“Regulus.” you breathed out, letting your shoulders relax as he locked eyes with you.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“Just fine.” you muttered, taking his arm and linking it with yours “I was just leaving.”

Arms linked together, you walked the halls of Hogwarts in silence, the tension in your body only rising as he stayed silent. “Wait.” you said, letting go of him as you literally let your body fall to the floor, sitting in the middle of the empty hallway “I need a moment.”

Regulus limited himself to stare at you, sitting on the floor with a furious hand running through your hair. Next thing he knew he was sitting next to you, playing with his hands.

“What are you doing?” you said suddenly, raising your head with a questioning look on your face.

He squinted his eyes “Waiting for you?” he said doubtfully.

You were supposed to be angry, not with him, but you were angry. Then why were you laughing, Regulus asking himself the same question. It didn’t take long for him to start laughing with you. It was a sight to be seen: Both of you sitting in the middle of the hall laughing.

“I’m sorry about what they said.” you said, after you both had calmed down and had spent a few minutes in silence “I really don’t know if you heard anything but… well, I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize.” he said “I don’t care what they say. It was what you answered that I cared about.” he admitted, reaching for your hand to give it a firm squeeze “You’re my only friend.”

You smiled at that, returning the squeeze with a chuckle “You’re my only friend too.” you said, thinking about all the things that you had done together, days spent only with the other, the small jokes and things only the two of you understood “Best friend, actually.”

“Best friend.” he repeated, with a smile.

*******

Sirius Black couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw it. One afternoon, running away from Professor Mcgonagall, he took a left turn that got him separated from his friends, the familiar laughter he thought belonged to them getting him to an empty hall.

He was about to call for James, running out of a hall only to duck his head and run back to where he couldn’t be seen, his back flat on the stone wall. He was too far away to hear the words coming out of their mouths, but that wasn’t what he was more shocked about. He listened carefully, not catching anything but the carefree sound of their voices.

He took a quick glance, watching as Regulus helped the girl to her feet, linking their arms together as they walked away, the blue scarf and Y/H/C the only thing he got from the girl next to him.

Sirius wandered the halls dumbfounded, his attention no longer on the present as a body collided against his chest, the only reason he wasn’t on the floor because James held onto his shoulders. “Pads!” James said cheerfully, his face falling as he got no response “Padfoot?” he asked “You alright?”

Sirius’ eyes met with the concerned look of his friend “I saw my brother.” he blurted out “He was smiling.”

TAGS

Skittles

@iwritesiriusly / @trinimalfoyyy /

Marauders

@destourtereaux

[wreckofawriter]

Bubblegum

pairing: remus lupin x reader

word count: 3k

warnings: language, none fluffy

summary: you know you annoy remus but that doesn't stop you from trying to get close to him

a/n: i actually like this fic more than I thought I would... anyway I'm actually motivated again so posts should be more frequent. I plan on writing the next part for pulled apart next

    Remus has always been very good at ignoring distractions. Considering who his best friends were that was really no surprise to anyone around him. He had ignored parties and screams and fights and pretty much everything else you can imagine. He could probably read through a tornado if one happened to strike the castle. But we all have that one thing. 

    The classroom was quiet. The scratch of quills on parchment and the occasional shuffle of feet filling Remus’s ears as he did everything in his power to focus on the test in front of him. Potions was a subject he excelled in, yet he had barely finished the first three questions and now sat practically fuming in his chair, his mind clouded with irritation. 

    A pop once again resonated through the room and no one else blinked, the quills continued their march. Remus gripped his own feather so tight he thought it might break in two. A few moments later  the sound greeted his ears again and he whipped around. His eyes fell on you, your hair bouncing lightly as you tapped your foot to some inaudible rhythm. Soft pink bubble gum lined your lips, the corpse of a bubble being tugged back into your mouth for rebirth. 

    “Would you cut it out?” Remus hissed drawing more than one pair of eyes. 

    You tilted your head in confusion, reminding the boy slightly of a puppy. You glanced behind yourself quickly and then pointed a finger at yourself in a silent question. 

    “Yes you.” Remus scorned, “Stop popping your bloody gum.” 

    Maybe it was because of how rude he had been or maybe it was the cute red tinge of anger on his cheeks, either effect led you to the same action. You gathered the treat in your mouth inflating one of the bigger bubbles you had made that day, popping it between your teeth.  The noise was loud like the snap of a whip. You smiled softly at the boy's stiff reaction, “No.” You hummed turning back to your work. 

    Remus was pretty sure you had verbally slapped him across the face. 

    The library was crowded with people, almost every chair was taken, faces shoved into books and fingers stained with ink.

The quiet atmosphere was broken by James’s loud groan, “Godric, that test Slughorn gave us was dreadful.” he complained, his head hitting the table in front of him. A chorus of hushing which he paid no mind to followed. 

“Tell me about it.” Remus mumbled his mood still sour from the period before. 

Sirius snapped to attention, “Since when do you have trouble in potions?” 

Remus sighed, rolling his eyes at his friend's amusement, “It wasn’t the test you idiot.” 

James turned his head, his cheek now squished against the wooden surface, eyebrows scrunched.

“There was this girl.” 

“A girl!?” Both boys shouted in unison, James’s head popping up from the table. They both were shushed aggressively. 

Remus scoffed, “Not like that-”

“Was she just so hot you couldn’t focus?” Sirius mused, the smirk on his lips mildly irritating.

“Did she have the top few buttons of her blouse undone? I damn near fainted last time Lily did that.” James chimed in.

Remus felt his cheeks go hot, “What? No-”

“So who's the lucky lady Moony?” 

“Yeah I can’t believe you didn't tell us.” James pouted. 

    “I don’t fancy her, you idiots!” Remus snapped, earning multiple glares.

    James and Sirius’s smiles dropped, disappointment finding their faces as all the excitement they had just been tempted with washed away.

    “I knew it was too good to be true.” Sirius mumbled halfeartly. 

    “So what was it then?” James asked, “If you don’t fancy this girl what’s the issue?”

    Remus huffed, “She was being bloody annoying that's the issue. She wouldn’t stop popping her gum, it is one of the most infuriating things I've ever experienced.”

    Sirius quirked a brow, “That's it?”

    “James was there.” Remus continued, “He gets it, it was absolutely dreadful.”

    James shrugged, “I don’t remember hearing any popping.” 

    Remus gauffed, “Seriously? It was so loud.” 

    “I probably just tuned it out,” He hummed, “Why didn't you just ask her to stop?”

    “That's the problem.” Remus groaned, “I did and she was totally rude and popped it right in my face.” 

    “Sounds kinda bitchy.” Sirius mumbled, “Any chance you know who she is?” 

    Remus racked his brain, “I think her name is y/l/n something, I'm not sure.”

    Sirius paused, “Y/n y/l/n?”

    “That sounds right.” 

    Sirius whistled, “She is wicked hot.”

    Remus scrunched his face in mild disgust, “Is that all you have to say on the matter?” 

    Sirius nodded returning to Transfiguration book,

    Remus sighed, “You guys are no help at all.”

If you had heard the conversation that had just taken place you would have been sorely disappointed. In fact you probably would have stormed up to your dorm and pouted fiercely. 

Remus Lupin was someone you knew well. Probably too well considering he had never even looked your way until the period before. It's not like you were a stalker or anything, he was just… really cute.

He had caught your attention in 4th year and never seemed to let go as he slowly reeled you in with hazel eyes and soft smiles. 

You would count his freckles in charms and imagine running your hands through his hair in potions, he never seemed to notice the pair of eyes boring into his curls. You were pretty positive that your crush was hopeless. I mean this was Remus Lupin you were talking about, sure he wasn’t as sought after as Black but he definitely had his fair share of admirers.

Your friends, the few you trusted with important information that is, were always pushing you to take some sort of action on your crush. You ignored them for the most part claiming it was useless and he would probably end up with someone else anyway. Yet year after year he was still single. It was a bit shocking in fact. Almost as shocking as the words you had spoken to him earlier that day.

You buried your head in your hands for the third time that minute, embarrassment and regret were eating you alive. What the hell is wrong with me? You thought. 

Adrianna, who was one of your closest friends and the one seated next to you for the horrific event was snickering behind her hand attempting to turn it into a cough as you glared at her. 

“I mean at least you talked to him.” She chidded and you threw your book at her. It was her turn to pout.

You groaned, your head hitting the table infront of you, “I’m a fucking idiot.” 

Adrianna shrugged, “Well yes.” 

“Why did I say no? Why couldn’t I just say yes and apologize like a normal person?” You complained.

She shrugged again, “Maybe it’s just in your blood to be a dick?” This time she caught a quill on her forehead. “Sorry, sorry,” a pause, “You know you could use this to your advantage,”

You raised an eyebrow, “How the hell would I manage that?”

“You could apologize, you know like a normal person.” she giggled.

You cringed at the thought, “Why would I do that?” 

Adrianna rolled her eyes, “Because you were an asshole. And most people apologize after being an asshole.”

You scrunched your nose, “Do you have any idea how awkward that would be?” 

“You’re helpless.” She mumbled returning to her work. 

You pouted, “Well you're not very helpful.” your mind began to turn as she continued her essay, one you had already finished the night before. Then suddenly an idea struck. 

You marched up to Remus with confidence you didn’t actually have. Your anxieties buried beneath a blanket of boldness. Your hands shook, stuffed deep in your pockets. 

“Yes?” He repeated reminding you that you had indeed called his name. 

You glanced around at his friends, their eyes locked on you with amused smiles. You put on an uncaring mask and rolled your eyes at Potter whose smile only grew, “Could we talk away from your goons?”

Remus grinned a bit as Sirius gave an over-exaggerated gasp, “Yeah sure.” 

You nodded quickly turning and starting towards the staircase. You didn’t catch Remus raising his eyebrows back at his friends and he didn’t see you release a shaky breath.  

Once you both stood in the narrow staircase leading to the deviations room you turned back to Remus who stood two stairs below you, the height advantage made you feel powerful. 

He didn’t seem particularly bothered by it, “You here to apologize?”

Your eyes widened, he seemed snarkier than he had been in potions, almost like he was challenging you, “I was, but now I don’t believe I will.” you clipped back.

Remus rolled his eyes, “Can I leave then?” 

Panic struck you, this was not going well, “Actually I need a favor.” 

Remus was surprised, that was definitely not what he had expected.

You huffed, praying to whatever god was up there that this would work. “Can you tutor me in potions? I’m actually not all that good at it and I know for a fact you are.” One of those statements was a blatant lie. Potions had been one of your better grades for a while now but he didn’t need to know that. 

“Why should I help you?” Remus asked, taking a step towards you, the height advantage lessening. 

You weren’t really sure how to answer that, “I suppose you shouldn’t.” You sighed and Remus smirked, “But you will.”

He raised his brows, “And why's that?”

You popped your gum enjoying his flinch, “Because you are just so sweet.” you said it with a slight coo like you were talking to a young child.

Remus didn’t respond as you brushed past him.

“Meet me at the library tomorrow after lunch and don’t be late.” You called over your shoulder.

Remus stood in the stairwell staring where you had just stood. He let out a heavy sigh , his heart beating louder than it should have been. 

Part of you thought he wouldn’t even show and that instead you would sit in the library like a fool as Remus laughed about you with his friends. So when you entered the library and found the boy already seated at a table, textbooks and notes placed neatly around him you were surprised. You fought a wide smile skipping beside him and reaching for the book in his hands. Before you could snatch it away Remus snapped it shut and moved it aside. 

“Take a seat y/n”  He spoke, smirking at you, clearly happy about his quick reflexes. 

You rolled your eyes sitting beside him and glancing at the papers in front of you. They were notes, neatly taken, no doodles in the margins. 

Remus leaned over your shoulder, “I think we should start with the basics and see how much you already know.”

It was only then that you realised you were going to have to pretend to be terrible at potions. You swallowed thickly, “Sounds good.”

You surprised yourself with how easily you lied. You slipped up only twice, brushing both off as lucky guesses and contuinuting with your stupid little curade. 

Remus ate it up, showing you simple questions and walking you through them as one did a child. It would have bothered you if he wasn’t leaning over your shoulder with his breath soft on your neck. He smelt like chocolate and fresh parchment, his curly hair so close you could reach out and run your fingers through it if you wanted to. 

You walked back to your common room in a slight haze, your stomach full of wings.

Remus peered after you curiously. Your actions confused him, he could’ve sworn you had already known the practice problems he gave you. Yet you had struggled, almost comically. He supposed you were just really good at pretending to be smart. 

“Do you have any idea how hard it is to pretend to be stupid?” You groaned.

Adrianna shook her head too focused on the note sheet in front of her to really care about what you were saying. 

Your rambles continued regardless, “Do you think I’m going to have to fail my next test so I can keep Remus as a tutor?”

She sighed fed up as she tried to study over your speaking, “You know you could just ask him out like if you weren’t such a pussy.” 

You glared at her lacking real malice, “I’m not a pussy, I’m just creative.”

“Pussy.” Adrianna coughed quietly and you rolled your eyes, she was only a little bit right. 

As your study sessions continued Remus found himself growing strangely fond of you. The banter you offered was entertaining, despite the fact you took every chance to annoy him. Your sarcastic comments made his lips twitch into a grin. Your response to his own remarks; a scrunch of your nose, making him chuckle. You still seemed a bit off and for the first week, Remus wasn’t sure what it was. It was clear that you were hiding something, faking something but he just couldn't place it. 

A pattern began to settle in front of him quickly. Your slip ups became a bit repetitive. And by slip ups he really meant your success. You were good at potions. In fact probably better than he was. Remus wasn’t sure why you were pretending to be terrible at a class you clearly were doing well in, but he was even more confused on why he didn’t call you out on it. 

For some reason he was dead set on keeping you at those study sessions. In fact he used a nearing test as an excuse to meet you daily. He debated his actions in his own mind most nights, why did he keep wasting his time to teach you things you already knew he wondered. He always came up empty, even more lost than he had been before. 

You had thought Remus to be smarter than he was. The fact that he hadn't picked up on your seemingly obvious act was astounding. You supposed it only helped you if he fell for it hook line and sinker, right? You started meeting him everyday in the library, he was very adamant about you passing the upcoming test and you weren’t going to complain, it gave you more time to count the freckles that dusted his nose anyway.  

You hummed quietly to yourself, fiddling with your quill. It was the night before the test and Remus had been insistent on you studying late into the night. So now you sat in the Gryffindor common room under the hazy light of candles with notes you had memorized ages ago. 

The crack of the fire was a pleasant background noise to your tune as your eyes locked onto Remus whose hair had fallen in front of his eyes yet again. You smiled softly watching him scribble final notes onto his Transfiguration assignment. Your gum was slowly losing its flavor on your tongue. 

Feeling your gaze he looked up, “You want me to quiz you on them?” He asked, gesturing to the notes under your arm. 

“Sure.” You reposed picking up the paper and passing it off to him. 

Remus watched you carefully, answers came easily most of the time but every once and  while you would struggle, himming and hawing as you pretended you didn’t know how to respond. He played along until you finished the note sheet.

You were confused when he put it down, “Aren't we going to go over the ones I got wrong?” 

Remus sighed, “Why would I do that when you already know them?”

You furrowed your brow, “I got them wrong.”

“You know them though don’t you?” He smirked, “You know all the stuff that I’ve been teaching you.”

You laughed but there was no humor to it, “I don’t know what you mean.”

He only smiled more, “Yes you do.” 

You just sat there, your mind was spinning, you hadn’t really planned for the end of it all. You had no clue how you were going to explain this. 

“I’m curious.” Remus said, “Why go through all this trouble?” 

You just started at him opening your mouth to answer only to close it again. 

“Come on y/n don’t leave me hanging.” He grinned and you felt like you were going to throw up. 

“How long have you known?” You asked quietly.

Remus shrugged, “About a week.” 

You hesitated, “Wait, why didn't you say anything sooner?”

He shrugged again, “No reason.” 

It was your turn to smile “No really Remus, why waste your time with me?” You questioned. 

He sighed, “It wasn’t really a waste of time.”

“It wasn’t?” 

Remus felt weirdly trapped, “You still haven't answered my question.” 

“Fine you really want to know?” You said chewing your gum anxiously. 

He nodded.

“I wanted to hang out with you, and I wasn't really sure how to ask.” You huffed picking at your nails. 

There was a beat of quiet, the fire popped behind you.

“Now you tell me why you didn’t say anything earlier.” You said trying to divert from your embarrassing confession. 

Remus pondered his answer for a moment, “Because I like you.” 

Your eyes widened, “I thought you found me annoying.” you laughed lightly.

“Oh no I do.” He grinned leaning closer to you as you scrunched your nose in annoyment. “You know you could have just asked me out instead of pretending not to know anything about potions.”

You ignored the heat in your cheeks as Remus leaned just inches from you, “Where’s the fun in that?”

He chuckled, “I supposed there isn't any.” his breath was warm on your skin and your eyes slipped shut as he closed the distance between you. 

Remus’s lips were smooth and soft against your own, his hand cupping your cheek lightly. You ran your fingers through his hair as he tilted your chin back, deepening the kiss. 

He hummed lightly, you tasted like bubblegum.

taglist:

@evyiione @accio-rogers @roslea @k3nz-doodl3 @theseuscmander @sleepingalaska @chloe-geoghegan1 @obsessedwithrandomthings @coldlilheart @suseptiable-but-siriusexual @inglorious-imagines @the-natureofme @trickylittlewitch @layaa-layaaa

Masterlist

[steelycunt]

ppl just don't get how Messy and "idgaf" remus is it's lowkey so annoying.... so many ppl in the fandom also think he and lily would be into the whole "studyblr" vibe with like highlighters and stickers and colored pens and all that and like. lily yes maybe, but remus? sorry he owns like 1 pen and uses two notebooks for all of his subjects there is no way he's making aesthetic mental maps and bullet notes like he cant even write neat 😭😭😭😭😭😭

hi sorry im late but REAL!! i v much agree with this in terms of how i imagine remus, i feel like of course he's hardworking n stuff but that in no way translates into being prepared or organised...he's got nothing he never brings the right textbook his ink has always leaked in his bag and his quill is broken and he's borrowing one from peter to do his essay at 2am the morning its due...like it WILL get done? but at the very last minute--in no way is he a studyblr girl he's too much of a mess...of course if you want to picture him that way go for it, everyone interprets them differently thats the fun of it!! i might personally disagree in as much as i DO think he gives a fuck? but also i do agree with you in terms of my own view of him being messy!!

[shaynawrites23]

For Family Or For Love

Pairing: adult!Remus Lupin x reader

Word count: 2492

Prompts: “Are you scared of me?” “No. Never.”

“It doesn’t matter what they think. I love you, and that’s what matters.”

Written for @johnmurphyisbisexual’s writing challenge!

Special thanks to @the-moon-and-the-book for both beta reading and coming up with the title!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The heavy door to your private chambers creaked open to reveal the room’s other occupant; your husband, Remus Lupin. He carried an enormous stack of tests to grade in one hand, two cups of coffee in the other, and he held a newspaper clenched between his teeth. He shut the door the same way he opened it; with his foot.

You leapt forward to help him, taking some of the items from where they balanced precariously in his hold, constantly on the verge of falling. He breathed a sigh of thanks, pressing a kiss to your temple as you made your way to the bed.

Upon closer inspection, you realized half the papers he had brought in were actually yours. You taught Herbology and had recently assigned an essay. You hummed in gratitude when Remus handed you a pastry and a couple of colored muggle pens. You knew the older members of the faculty preferred quill and ink, but you chose pens. They were easier to use and much less tedious to maintain.

He smiled softly, humming in acknowledgement as you both sat down to mark papers. The room lapsed into silence, the only sound being the clicking of pens and the occasional mutters of disapproval when either of you saw something you didn’t particularly like.

A tapping on the window broke you out of your concentration. You spun around, eyes searching for the source of the sound when you spotted a small brown owl perched on the windowsill, rapping its beak against the glass.

A messenger owl.

You jumped up, hurrying over to fling open the window and welcome the creature inside. The poor thing was soaked through; it was pouring outside.

“Rem, will you get me a towel for the owl?”

“Sure thing, love.” He disappeared into the adjoining bathroom and emerged moments later with a navy blue towel.

You gently wrapped the owl up in the cloth, hoping it would help the animal get warm and dry.

There was a small cylindrical vessel strapped to the owl’s back, colored a deep red, like the darkest red visible during a sunset. You undid the clasps holding it in place, popping off the cap and peering inside. The case held a sheet of paper, rolled up tightly in order to make it fit.

“Who’s it from?” Remus’s gentle voice inquired.

You didn’t reply immediately, unfurling the note and letting your eyes fly over the words first.

“My parents,” you finally answered. “They want to have us over for dinner tomorrow evening.”

“That’ll be a welcome distraction from marking papers,” he remarked.

Remus was on relatively good terms with your family. They were somewhat sceptical of his background at first, but decided they would be happy as long as you were. Your father gave a very nervous and jittery Remus his blessing shortly before he proposed, and you had been happily married ever since.

You laughed. “Definitely.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When you awoke the next morning, your hand searched the bed for Remus, for his warmth. You found nothing. Only when your fingers reached the edge of the bed, the precipice between the sheets and the floor, did you open your eyes.

You blinked blearily, letting your eyes get accustomed to the light entering through the small gap between the curtains. Remus was nowhere to be seen.

Throwing on your robes, you shuffled over to the bathroom and peered inside. Where was he? He was indeed a morning person, but there was no reason for him to be up this early in the weekend.

Your incessant internal questions were soon answered when you heard the telltale creak of the heavy wooden door. Remus entered; you could tell from his hunched shoulders he was deep in thought. The dark circles under his eyes told you he had probably not slept much the past few hours.

“Rem? Remus, is everything all right?” You placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

He wouldn’t meet your eyes, simply holding up a newspaper and muttering, “See for yourself.”

So you took the paper from him, sitting on the bed as you turned the pages in an attempt to find out what exactly was troubling him so. The sound of the paper crackling under your fingers which usually held so much satisfaction for you, gave you no pleasure this time.

“Oh no.”

You now knew what it was, you knew what had upset him. The fifth page of the paper held a picture of him; it depicted him perfectly, there was no chance of anyone not recognize him. And on the off chance someone didn’t connect the dots, his name was printed right below it. The article revealed his true nature, his lycanthropy, informing everyone who didn’t yet know that Hogwarts’s Defense Against the Dark Arts professor was a werewolf.

You glanced up. Remus stood at the open window, both hands leaning on the windowsill as he looked out over the school grounds. You could tell from his posture he was incredibly worried, and he had every right to be. No one would hire a werewolf, much less send their child to a school which had one employed as a teacher.

“Remus?”

“How could this happen?” His voice cracked and you knew he was trying his very best to keep control of his emotions. “We were so careful, how is this possible?”

“I don’t know,” you murmured. “But we’ll handle this the way we always do; together.”

“There’s nothing left to handle.”

“Remus, my love, don’t give up hope. There’s always something. Perhaps my family can help; they have a well-respected name.”

He didn’t reply immediately, instead gazing out over the field where students were playing, studying, or just hanging out.

“They don’t know yet, do they?” It was not a question, more like a statement, as you both knew it to be true.

“They don’t- they didn’t,” you sighed. “But my family knows you. We’re married, for Merlin’s sake. They’re not going to shun you.”

“We shall see about that,” he muttered, straightening up nevertheless. “In the meantime, I should probably have a talk with Minnie. I’ll see you later for lunch?”

You nodded. “As always.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fastening your hairpin, you gave yourself a final once over in the mirror. You were dressed to the nines, and yet you wouldn’t classify your attire as too fancy for the occasion. Satisfied with your appearance, you exited the bathroom adjoining your shared bedroom to go look for Remus.

“Rem?” you called. “You ready to go?

You opened the door separating your bedroom from the hallway with its incredibly high ceilings, as could be expected from any old building. Your husband stood outside, leaning against the wall as he waited.

He hummed in confirmation, a soft smile spreading over his face at the sight of you. He reached for your hand, entwining his fingers with yours as he twirled you around slowly, admiration plain in his eyes. Pulling you close, he pressed his lips to yours, gingerly, as though you were the most precious treasure one could possibly imagine.

“Rem!” you laughed, “We have to go! You know my mother hates when we’re late!”

“As my lady wishes.”

With that, he waved his wand and you disapparated, reapparating right outside your parents’ large house. Walking up the cold stone steps, you felt Remus stiffen slightly, and you squeezed his hand. A comforting gesture, one he immediately returned.

The doorbell sounded loudly, chiming once, twice, three times before falling silent. You waited as quick, light footsteps approached, flinging open the door.

“Auntie (y/n)!” the young girl cried, jumping up and down in excitement. It was your young niece Ada, dressed in a pretty pink skirt and with her hair coiffed in cute, bouncy curls. “It’s auntie (y/n)!”

Another set of footsteps approached, slower and calmer than Ada’s. Your mother appeared in the doorway, smiling and greeting you and Remus as she ushered you inside.

“Dinner’s not ready yet,” she remarked casually as she returned to the kitchen, presumably to continue preparing the meal.

Little Ada remained by your side, dragging you by your hand to come look at her latest drawing. Remus still stood in the hall, but the young girl kept you so occupied you could do little more than glance at him every few minutes.

Your father and your brother soon entered, laughing loudly at what must have been an incredibly funny joke.

“Ah, (y/n)!” your father exclaimed when he spotted you sitting in a corner with Ada on your lap and a children’s book in your hand. “I see Ada’s gotten to you already.”

“Yes, she has. I didn’t remember her having this much energy the last time,” you joked, but Ada tugged on your arm to remind you you were supposed to be reading her fairytales.

“Ah, and Remus.” You couldn’t help but notice how much less enthusiastic your father’s greeting was when it was addressed to your husband.

“How’s Edward doing?” your brother cut in. “Not causing too much trouble, I hope?”

Edward was your brother’s eldest child, older than Ava by six years. He started his first year at Hogwarts that year, and your brother was rather anxious about his progress.

“He’s doing very well in his classes,” Remus replied. “Naturally, he’s pulled a couple of pranks here and there, but that is to be expected from such an energetic young lad like him.”

“I see. And no issues with… supernatural creatures?”

Your head snapped up at that. Ada whined for you to continue reading, but you simply told her to wait a moment. You were certain there was a venomous serpent hiding somewhere in your brother’s words, and when it would jump out to ambush you, someone was sure to get hurt.

Remus remained perfectly calm. “None that I am aware of. The boy’s a very talented wizard; he has proven himself very capable of defeating any creature we presented him with.”

Your brother’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly, and as if struck by a lightning bolt of insight, you know this was heading downhill. It was only a matter of moments before he’d attack Remus about his lycanthropy.

You were right.

“Lupin, you’re a danger to the children! It’s not safe for them to be around you.”

“He is not!” you burst out. You stood up and stalked over to them, the fairytale long forgotten.

“He’s a werewolf.” Your brother spoke in the same tone you’d heard him use when explaining things to Ada; things that one would expect to be obvious.

“He’s also a professor, and has been for years. Nothing’s happened.”

“Maybe not yet, but that doesn’t mean it won’t happen.”

Your mother emerged from the kitchen, clearly wondering what on earth was going on. Rather than engage herself in the argument, she stood in the doorway, arms crossed and leaning against the doorframe.

Remus’s hand searched for yours, entwining his fingers with yours as soon as he found it. You noticed your brother’s gaze fly towards the gesture, as if he feared a more nefarious action. But Remus was simply holding your hand, squeezing gently as if to say, ‘calm down, love.’

“(y/n), get away from him.” Your brother’s order hung in the air like a sword dangling above both your heads, waiting to see who would give in first. Your parents seemed to want to intervene, but you could tell they didn’t know what to do.

“No.”

“Excuse me?!”

“No, I won’t.” You felt like a defiant child arguing with a parent, but that didn’t matter to you. “He’s my husband and I love him. Werewolf or not.”

“It’s okay, darling,” Remus whispered to you, tone low enough that no one else could catch his words.

“What, are you threatening her now?” Your brother was clearly beyond seeing reason, too angry to think logically.

Remus was caught off guard by that accusation, and unfortunately for him, his split second’s hesitation was plain to see. “I merely told her it was okay, that she doesn’t need to fight for my honor.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I am not in the habit of lying. I am an honest man and am telling the truth.” There was a stark contrast between your brother’s wild accusations and Remus’s calm demeanor. You only hoped it would not simply pour more oil onto the fire.

“You’re a monster,” he finally spat, as if the words themselves were pure poison. “How do we know it’s not only a matter of time before you hurt (y/n)?”

That was a low blow and you all knew it. Your mother gasped, hand flying to her mouth in shock.

“I would never hurt her.”

“Maybe you wouldn’t, but what about the wolf?”

Neither of you could answer that, both fully aware he didn’t have that much control over his other half.

“Please excuse me,” Remus muttered, glancing at your parents before grabbing his coat and leaving the building.

“There. Look what you’ve done. That was low and we all know it,” you seethed.

“(y/n), he’s dangerous! He could kill you!”

“So what? So could any other wizard. So could you, or mom. So could Ada, if she were determined enough.” You crossed your arms as you reached deep inside yourself, attempting to maintain your composure.

“But you can trust we won’t.”

“What? I can trust the same of him. He wouldn’t hurt me, I trust him.”

“So you would trust a wolf not to attack?” Your brother took two steps forward, as if his subconscious wanted to intimidate you into losing the argument. Nice try. You weren’t easily intimidated.

“He’s not a wolf! He’s Remus. My husband.”

You saw the surprise on his face when you emphasized your relationship with Remus, and you took that opportunity to continue.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I have business to attend to.” With that, you stalked out as well, waiting until you disappeared behind the hedge outside to run after Remus.

He probably heard you coming, because you found him standing around the corner, as if he were waiting. The look in his eyes told you he had probably fought with himself to decide whether or not to wait for you to catch up.

“Rem, please ignore what he said. I know it’s hard, but he’s spewing nonsense.”

“Love, are you scared of me?”

“No. Never.” He had barely gotten his words out before you replied, without a moment’s hesitation.

“Your family seems to think you should be.”

“Remus, it doesn’t matter what they think. I love you, and that’s what matters.”

His eyes glistened with unshed tears. He stepped closer to you, cradling your cheek gently, as if he were afraid you’d shatter like glass if he was just slightly too rough with you.

Leaning in slowly, he captured your lips with his in a sweet kiss. And that alone conveyed all he needed to say.

“I love you too.”

taglist: @the-moon-and-the-book @decalcomanei @emcchi

[okay-j-hannah]

Tactless

Harry Potter : Prompt

Fred x Reader

Word Count: 3082

Warnings: heckidy heck heck it’s just so tender 😭 

Request: “Omg your Fred Weasley x reader fics are SO GOOD. Could you please write a Fred x Reader with prompts 18 and 38? Set when they’re still at Hogwarts if that’s okay. Thank you xx” @bnha-sero-hanta​

Prompts: 

18.  “Yes, it’s a questionable line of work, but I’m good at it.”

38.  “I guess I was wrong about you. You’re not so bad after all.”

A/N: Freddie has not been himself lately, and every time you meet something horribly embarrassing happens; what could possibly be making him so shy?

“Isn’t there a way for them to be more discrete about all that inventing nonsense?” (Y/N) questioned, trying to keep her attention on the essay in front of her.

Ginny looked over her shoulder to see her twin brothers broadcasting to a hoard of first years. It made her grimace and return to her quill and ink, “They’re just excited about the joke shop. I don’t blame them – we all want to make a little extra money.”

(Y/N) peered over to see them passing out toffees and sickles to the children, “Experimenting on innocents.”

“Why are you so against them building their career?” Ginny asked her, pushing her parchment aside, “They’re not hurting anyone.”

“Until they do.”

The first years stood around the stocky brothers, watching them explain how their candy worked. (Y/N) slumped in her seat, observing, and biting the inside of her cheek. She may be Ginny’s friend, but that doesn’t mean she has to agree with everything her siblings did.

“Hey, Weasley!” she yelled over, snorting when Fred popped a toffee into his mouth for demonstration.

The twins looked up and it was plain to see the slight fear that entered Fred’s face, his eyes widening. George was holding a bin to his side as he called back, “Yeah?”

“Do you always get children to do your bidding?” She crossed her arms and Fred’s face became pale at her staring at him, before he clutched at George’s bin and raised it to his face. He immediately started to vomit violently.

The first years all reacted audibly, taking several steps back; (Y/N) made a disgusted face, forcing out a scoff.

George thrusted a purple candy into his brother’s hand, evidently frantic to get him out of this awkward situation. And after Fred finished retching in the bin, he returned a strained look towards (Y/N), wiping his lip.

Ginny shook her head, “Tactless,” rolling her eyes.

“Puking Pastilles,” Fred mumbled towards her, swallowing hard, “A – A way to get out of class.”

“Oh, good,” (Y/N) replied, “And subjecting kiddies to this… vomiting exercise, will prove what? That they work?”

It appeared that Fred was lost for words; he may have been cured of the pastille, but he still looked pale and on the verge of being sick again.

“That they work for everyone,” George stated for him, “We’ve… we’ve only tested them on ourselves.”

“Well, I think exhibit A is enough,” she gestured towards Fred as the surrounding first years began returning the candies and sickles. “Joke’s on you, I guess.”

Ginny opened her mouth and smiled at her friend, “Ouch.”

The twins appeared defeated as their testing crowd dispersed. (Y/N) simply returned to her essay and laughed, “No witty comebacks this time.” She raised her eyebrows and felt Ginny’s gaze on her, “What?”

“Nothing,” she muttered, somewhat smiling, “You like to pick on my brothers a lot. I’ve never seen anyone shut them up quite like you do.”

“I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

Ginny nodded slowly and then whispered, “One might think you have an effect on them.”

“What?” (Y/N) set down her quill, splotching her last sentence, “You better be about to say that the only effect I have is in jostling their brains into a little common sense.”

A shrug was what she got in return, “I don’t know… you’re doing something though.” She nudged her head to what was behind her shoulder.

When (Y/N) looked, she noticed that Fred was still staring at her, ashen faced, but he promptly turned his head as George cleared the vomit from the bin with his wand.

“That’s not weird at all.”

It was Ginny’s turn to raise her eyebrows and laugh.

They continued with their homework until lunch where they walked to the Great Hall together, Ginny still acting peculiar about the events that occurred in the common room. It was like she couldn’t start any new topic that didn’t involve Fred’s name in the mix.

By the time they sat at the Gryffindor table, she was starting to get fed up, “Why does it matter so much that I support this joke shop? It’s a reckless line of work that doesn’t guarantee a steady income or good reputation.”

Ginny still avoided answering the complete question, “I can’t have you arguing with my family every time we’re hanging out.” She forked some potatoes as (Y/N) turned full body to her, squinting her eyes.

“You’re not telling me something.”

“What makes you say that?”

(Y/N) bit the inside of her cheek, “You’ve been bringing up your family all day, specifically the twins. Have I offended them in some way? Is your mum disowning me from Christmas dinner?”

“No, no,” she replied, trying to put less suspicion in her tone of voice, “I just… I can’t outright tell you. It’s kind of a special request.”

(Y/N) pushed her plate away, “You’re doing one hell of a job; no one suspects you at all.”

“I never claimed to be a good liar,” she snickered, urging her friend to eat something before quidditch practice. “Just that I have someone’s back in putting a good word in for them.”

“As in… there’s someone that wants to get on my good side?” She observed a platter of gingerbread cakes, selecting a particularly golden brown one.

Ginny took a sip of her pumpkin juice to give herself some time, “Maybe a little further than your good side.”

Taking a bite of the cake, (Y/N) licked her lips of the orange marmalade, “You’ve basically told me already, just give me a name.”

“You’re not gonna like it,” she smiled, giving her friend the eye, until her brows contorted. “(Y/N) – you’re bleeding.”

“Hm?” she swallowed another bite of cake and then felt a dribble run down, over her lips, “What the…”

A voice came running towards them, “No! Don’t eat the gingerbread – oh…” Fred appeared on their side of the bench, his eyes widening at the sight before him, “(Y/N) …”

She clamped a hand over her nose as a continuous stream of blood came flooding through her fingers. Ginny gasped at the realization of what was happening, standing, and pushing her brother.

“Give her the antidote!”

Fred fumbled with his pockets, stuttering, as George ran up behind him, “I’m… oh God – (Y/N) … I’m so sorry.”

She didn’t reply as she tried to stunt the bleeding with nearby napkins. Ginny pulled her hair back as George folded his arms and bit one of his nails.

“The marmalade,” Fred tried to continue, “It… it was another test.”

(Y/N) gave him a narrowed look, “You couldn’t get volunteers, so you decided to plant traps for unsuspecting students?” She sounded clogged up and numb.

Fred tried to unwrap a purple end of a sweet, accidentally dropping it in the process. (Y/N) slapped a hand on her knee in impatience as the blood began dripping off her chin and onto her shirt. Her insides boiled at the complete disregard of consideration.

But she couldn’t help but see the blush threading itself up his neck and to the tips of his ears. It was making his freckles stand out and the terrified look in his gaze. Fred Weasley never looked terrified. He always had a smirk on his face, his eyes were always smiling, and his hands never shook like that.

“Here, take this,” he mumbled, dusting off the purple candy from being on the floor, “It’ll make the bleeding stop.”

She gave him a skeptical look, “Forgive me for seeing that as questionable.”

He swallowed hard, holding the candy out further, “Yes, it’s a questionable line of work, but I’m good at it.”

(Y/N) resigned and stuffed the purple end in her mouth, feeling sudden clarity in her nose. The stream of blood now came in a slow trickle.

“Better?” Fred asked – and his face looked exceptionally genuine. The slant of his brow made her hesitate.

“Yes.” It came out more like a question than a statement, “Thank you.”

He nodded and tried at a painful smile, “I’m sorry about that.”

Ginny punched him in the shoulder, “You should be! My God, what was that?”

“Nosebleed Nougat,” George answered, clearly peering at his brother with the same concern and confusion that (Y/N) was. “Another joke sweet to…”

“Get students out of class,” (Y/N) finished, continuing to wipe her nose. “I still don’t agree with it, you know. And this…” she pointed at the gingerbread cakes, “Is not helping your case.”

Fred looked down at his shoes, “I’m sorry.”

“(Y/N),” Ginny smacked her friend’s shoulder, “Oliver’s calling the team over.”

Oliver Wood, the quidditch captain, was talking to Angelina, Katie, and Harry by the entrance hall. George pulled on his brothers arm, snapping him out of whatever trance distracted him. It looked like he wanted to say something else, maybe apologize further, but George yanked him away, talking to him in hushed tones.

“What is it with your brothers today?” She looked in the back of her water goblet to make sure all the blood was off her nose, “I feel like we’re just meeting under the worst circumstances today.”

“Tell me about it,” Ginny sighed, running a hand through her hair, “I can only do so much.”

(Y/N) stood to meet the team, but paused, “So one of your brothers wants to be on my good side.”

She sucked in her lips and gave her friend a sympathetic gaze, “I did my best, but they’re not exactly pulling their weight.”

“Okay, okay…” (Y/N) muttered, hands on her hips, “So one of the twins wants to… get closer to me – is that how you put it? Which one is it then?”

“Nope, I’m done meddling with other peoples relationships.” Ginny put up her hands, “You need to get to quidditch practice, and I need to finish Flitwick’s essay.”

“I can’t believe that one of your brothers likes me,” (Y/N) suddenly said, awe in her tone. “I’m completely horrible to them.” Ginny shrugged, forcing (Y/N) to continue on with her side of things, “There’s no way… is that why they’re always acting different around me?”

“(Y/N)!” came Oliver’s voice, “If we lose the game with Ravenclaw I’m going to blame your lack of participation in practice.”

She whined under her breath, “We are talking when I get back tonight.”

Ginny put a treacle tart in her mouth before waving and leaving the Great Hall. (Y/N) proceeded to follow the rest of the team down to the quidditch pitch, all along the way noticing how Fred and George appeared to be fighting with each other as they walked.

The pitch was cloudy with a slight breeze and there was still some tension between the twins. Oliver quickly noticed and tried to intimidate the distraction out of them. (Y/N) stayed quiet, observing from a distance, still questioning which one of the brothers supposedly liked her. It still baffled her how it could be possible with how much they argued, especially over something big like their career choice.

“Pull your act together, guys,” Oliver retorted, “We have to beat Ravenclaw with a fifty point lead if we want a shot at the cup.”

Fred shoved George away and laughed, tripping over something. (Y/N) came slowly behind them, finding that something had fallen out of George’s pocket while being pushed. It was a cracked vial of a greenish substance.

“Hey, you dropped something!” she called out, bending over to reach the bottle.

She saw out of the corner of her eye that the twins stopped at the sound of her voice. When they noticed what she was picking up there was panic immediate in their voices.

“(Y/N), don’t touch that!”

But she’d already gotten some of the liquid seeping from the cracked glass onto her fingers. They immediately started burning and bubbling.

“Ah! What is this?” She dropped the vial and tried to rub her fingertips clean, only to spread it onto the rest of her hands. Large angry boils were sprouting from her skin, red and painful.

“It’s undiluted bubotuber pus,” George yelled as they reached her frantic figure. “We were gonna use it for…”

“Nevermind that,” (Y/N) cried, now rubbing her sizzling hands onto her quidditch robes, “How do I make it stop?” She was starting to feel her eyes water with the rising pain.

Fred began his stuttering again, his hands shaking worse than they had at lunch, “You… we have to see Madam Pomfrey.”

Oliver came running over, clear frustration in his gaze, “And why, may I ask, are you three huddled over here ignoring practice?”

“(Y/N) got bubotuber pus on her hands,” Fred stated, helping the girl to her feet, “We need to take her to the hospital wing.”

“No, we can manage practice with only one beater, not zero. You take her; George can stay with the rest of the team. Get that sorted out, (Y/N), preferably before our match this weekend.”

Fred tried to steady his hands as he led the way back to the castle, “(Y/N) … I don’t know what to say.”

She attempted to hide the whimper that wanted to escape, cradling her boil covered hands. It was her turn to remain quiet.

“Everything keeps going wrong today,” he continued, watching her closely from his stance beside her. “I’m so sorry. I want to make it – it right, but…”

“Why won’t they stop burning?” she mumbled, clearly not listening as well as she could be.

Fred frowned, sympathy heavy in his face as he hesitantly, and gently placed a hand on her shoulder. “Madam Pomfrey can fix it – George and I have been through the same thing.”

She now couldn’t help the tears that were starting to pool in her eyes, her hands were absolutely killing her.

“You’re going to be alright,” he said quietly, keeping his hand on her back, “You know I really am sorry. You were never supposed to get in the mix of all the experiments.”

They made a steady pace down the corridor and into the hospital wing, getting Madam Pomfrey’s attention quickly. She grabbed a number of potion as Fred led (Y/N) to a bed.

“They’ll feel a lot better after this,” Fred stated, taking a seat beside her, but sitting stick straight and staring at her injured hands.

A tear or two finally leaked onto her cheeks and Fred was itching to comfort her in some way, “Oh, (Y/N) don’t cry! I – this is all my fault.”

She sniffed and tried not to move her hands as she shifted to address Fred.

“You know, I thought you were a complete ass just this morning. But I’ve never seen this side of you.”

He timidly shrugged his shoulders and finally met her eyes, “It seems to only happen when I’m around you.”

(Y/N) started to nod her head, feeling the tears leave uncomfortable tracks down her face. She gave a watery smile and tried to wipe her cheeks on her shoulder.

“Here,” he muttered as he grabbed a handkerchief off the nightstand and held it to her face, “I’ve got it, if that’s okay.”

She gave him a look and contemplated. She noticed that familiar blush creeping up his neck, complimenting his freckles. His eyes became downcast again as he caught her looking at him.

“Sure, thank you.”

It seemed he wasn’t expecting that, but he reached over and wiped away the tear tracks as she peered at him doing so. She could visibly see him swallow hard, that slight fear inching its way onto his features.

“Are you alright?” she asked. “You look a little pink.” She couldn’t help but smirk a little.

Fred licked his lips, “Y-Yeah, you’re just… nevermind.”

“No, you have to tell me!” she smiled despite the pain. “I’ve been trying to figure you out all day and I’m not gonna believe Ginny until you outright say it.”

He flashed his eyes to her, “Ginny told you?”

“I don’t know… what was she supposed to not tell me?”

He turned his gaze to her pulsating hands and shook his head slightly, “You… you have a beautiful smile.” He didn’t wait for a response before he put his face in his hands, “I’m sorry, I know you hate me and what I do. I just… I shouldn’t have said anything.”

There was a major silence between them for a while. Fred subtly scooted away from her bed, intertwining his fingers on his lap. (Y/N) waited as Madam Pomfrey came hurriedly over to apply medicine and bandages to her hands. She felt immensely better afterwards but wished that Fred did too.

He looked like he was really beating himself up over it. It was like his cheeks were permanently stained pink.

“You know what, Fred,” she finally said after the long awkward silence, “I guess I was wrong about you. You’re not so bad after all.”

He could’ve snapped his neck with how fast he turned to look at her, “What?”

“How about this… if you stop experimenting your joke products on first years, then you can take me out in Hogsmeade.”

“But… but I vomited in front of you.”

She nodded her head and admired her bandages.

“And I gave you a nosebleed.”

“Yes, you did.”

“And I got undiluted bubotuber pus on your hands – I put you through pain!”

She raised her eyebrows at him, “Your point being?”

He finally cracked the first smile of the day, “You have every right to hate me. I messed everything up! I should have no chance with you.”

“Just because a few pranks go awry doesn’t mean it’s impossible for us to get along. Be something.”

“Why… why this sudden change of heart?” he was wringing his hands in anticipation, obviously never dreaming this moment would ever happen.

She bit her lip, “I think, for the first time, I’m actually seeing you. The one behind the Weasley twin persona.” That made him smile wider as she added, “I think I like him a lot more than the trivial prankster.”

“You like him?” he practically whispered.

“Now that I think about it,” she hummed, “I may have been a tiny bit in denial.”

The look on his face was almost comical – he appeared to be straining to not smile so broadly, “If you didn’t have mitts for hands, I would very much like to hold one right now.”

She laughed, something that pulled that grin out of him, “Keep it up, Weasley. We’re getting on the right track.”

~~~

Tag List:

@caswinchester2000 @aria253264 @bippity-boppity-boopa @andreasworlsboring101 @oncemorewithfeelingg

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[aprilsrant]

Honey Honey! | Oliver Wood x Slytherin!Fem!Reader.

PAIRING: oliver wood x slytherin!fem!reader.

SUMMARY: (Y/N)’s friend takes his plan one step further, determined to get the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain and the overthinker slytherin together. 

WORD COUNT: 2,032.

PREVIOUS PART: Lay all your love on me.

NEXT PART: When I kissed the teacher. 

REQUEST: literally one person asked for a part two and I had to do it. I have in mind another part, and possibly last one, so if anyone is interested let me know!

WARNINGS: I don’t think so.

A/N: Please remember English is not my first language, so there might be some mistakes, you can always correct me and I’ll fix it. And yes, the title is another ABBA song because why not? 

I still can’t believe the first part got like 150 notes. Thank you so much! 

Masterlist.

Gif below it’s not mind, credits to the person who made it.

Three days after the party in the Ravenclaw Common Room, that same one in which she almost killed one of her best friends, the unexpected happened.

His mouth lifted in a grin, white teeth showing, eyes sparkling with excitement and, at the same time, craziness; Dorian, the one who barely escaped his early death, sat beside them, leaning his body on the big root of a tree near the Black Lake, orange and brown leafs beneath him. The other tree exchanged glances. 

The afternoon was about to take an interesting turn. It’s not like he was never happy, but this particular kind of happiness came with blaring red lights, screaming and alerting everyone close enough.

Silently agreeing to ignore the boy’s strange, but not new, behaviour, (Y/N), Isla and Ethan kept working on their assignments. Before any of them could write something on the pieces of parchment, Dorian fakely cleared his throat. None of them looked at him, suppressed smiles on their faces.

(Y/N) had finished writing a sentence for her Charms essay when he tried to catch his friend’s attention again. But now using a different strategy. After the third long sigh that left his mouth, Isla, with lips pressed in a thin line, finally turned her head in his direction.

“Yes, Dorian?,” she said. Her harsh tone rivaling Professor McGonagall’s. 

In an impossible way, his grin grew larger, resembling the Cheshire Cat from the classic Alice in Wonderland. Dorian fixed his position, making himself more comfortable against the root, legs stretching (a few inches away from Ethan’s ink bottle), eyes closed and fingers gently hitting each other, taking that typical stance of someone who’s planning something. 

“What is it?,” asked Ethan impatiently.

“I come here bearing good news, no, excellent news and you treat me like this?” Always the exaggerated, Dorian feigned a hurt expression, right hand going to his chest and grabbing the part where his heart was placed.

Having enough of his games, (Y/N), who wanted nothing more to finish her paper and take a nap before dinner, decided to step into the conversation. “What excellent news?”

Dorian dropped the wounded act and smiled at her, glaring at the others as if he was saying ‘this is what good friends are supposed to be like’. He changed his posture once more —he really couldn’t stay still—, now sitting closer to them with his legs crossed, hands playing with one of the chocolate sweets Ethan had been trying to transform. The corner of his mouth never lowered. 

“Nice to hear you’re interested, my dearest (Y/N), because this concerns you directly.” She regretted ever asking him the minute that answer rolled from his mouth and his dark brown, almost black, eyes shined with mischief. Ethan’s and Isla’s confusion showed through their faces. “I just, like just, saw you know who and he,” Dorian stopped talking when he saw his friend’s disturbed expression. Rolling his eyes —how could they be that dumb?—, he explained. “Not that You-Know-Who, the other one… Ugh, I’m talking about Oliver Wood.” 

Their mouths took the shape of an O, realisation finally coming to them.

“He asked me what day you would be free to tutor him, so now, thanks to me, you have a date with Oliver this Saturday morning.”

(Y/N) and the other two stared at him. While Isla and Ethan broke into a fit of thrilled laughs and big smiles, high-fiving Dorian for his “work”, she was trying to control her anger and the words —the majority of them being insults— ready to leave her throat.  

Why was he so keen on her and Oliver being together? Why couldn’t they understand that she was not the kind of person who would act on her feelings? 

Yes, she had made it obvious that she liked the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain, but that didn’t mean she wanted to do something about it. She had always been awkward and, of course, situations with strangers (did she consider him one?) tended to go that way. The girl knew that if something, anything, went wrong with him she would overthink nonstop.  

Saying nothing, (Y/N) quickly grabbed her things —a dark blue bag with white dots forming the constellations, the parchment on top of it and the quill on her hand—, stood up and left with a quick step carrying her body, ignoring her friends screaming her name to come back from near the Black Lake’s shore. 

Entering the castle, bustling with cheerful students making their way outside to enjoy the warm and sunny afternoon, she decided this was the perfect moment to take that much needed nap, even if she hadn’t finished her assignment yet. 

The Slytherin was walking down one of the corridors, this one less transitaded, when she saw the particular crimson fabric of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team’s robes. She lowered her head, hoping it was one of the Chasers or any other member that wasn’t him.

Noticing the person wearing the uniform passed right beside her and didn’t say anything, she sighed in relief.

“(Y/N)?” said a disembodied and sweet voice from behind her. Even if she couldn’t actually see the person calling her name, she knew perfectly who it belonged to. 

Bloody hell.

Before turning around to face him, she closed her eyes, preparing herself. She’d never mind his presence, or him calling for her —hell, (Y/N) dreamed of that happening every now and then—, but now was definitely the wrong time for this. She was angry with Dorian for trying to set her up, exhausted from not being able to get used to the routine again and annoyed because of the amount of homework. 

Finding his black shoes extremely interesting and intriguing, she murmured a small response.

“Fancy to see you here, I’ve been trying to talk to you since the party but I didn’t want to bother you in class, you always look so focused on the lessons, and with Quidditch practices I couldn’t find you in your free time,” Oliver continued. He had been trying to reach her? Her? “I found Dorian instead and he said you were free to tutor me on Saturday morning. If you can’t or don’t want to or whatever, you don’t have to. I know I should have talked to you first, but I didn’t see you anywhere and I was getting desperate because I can’t lose this opportunity and… and I’m rambling a lot, sorry.” He stopped tapping his thumb against his broomstick’s handle.

All at once, the feeling, more like an intuition, that he could be nervous around her engulfed (Y/N), spreading a warm sensation through her body. 

She wanted to say no, even when this was the chance she’d wanted for too long but (Y/N) knew herself. The endless overthinking that she’ll have to endure before, during and after their “study date” —what if she was a horrible tutor?; what if he didn’t understand anything she’d said?; what if she wasn’t good enough?; what if he never wanted to speak to her again after it?; what if he failed and blamed it on her?; what if all this was a big and cruel joke?, would he do that to her, to anyone?—.

She really did want to say no, but how could she when he looked like that? Upper lip biting nervously on the bottom one, his cheeks of a rosy colour, constantly shifting his body’s weight, fingers fidgeting. 

“I, um, of course, no problem,” she assured. 

Why did she have to be such a people pleaser? 

And why did she have to like him so much that when he smiled, relieved because of the answer, her heart stopped for a second and her stomach turned upside down?

|||

(Y/N) was sure Oliver had never wanted to revise Transformation so early on a Saturday, especially when his team was just a few hours away from playing their first Quidditch match of the season. She wasn’t so thrilled either, weekends were the only days she had to sleep till lunch, her roommates knowing that waking her up before one in the afternoon would lead to a pissed (Y/N) and no one liked that version of herself.

“Look, we can reschedule if you want,” she said after watching him fail once more at conjuring birds from the tip of his wand, “you are worried about the match and that’s making it impossible for you to focus on this.”

The Gryffindor glanced at her through his eyelashes, a frustrated look in his eyes —(Y/N) couldn’t figure out if it was because he was losing his time here with her while he could be training with his team one last time or because the only thing coming out of his wand were yellow feathers—. 

Running both hands across his face, he replied, “I-I don’t want you to waste your time, but I suck at Transfiguration and we haven’t even started with Potions, which is worse, and you make it seem so easy because you’re amazing at this. But I’m not and Professor MgGonagall said that if…”.

For someone who had a brave and confident exterior, Oliver Wood did ramble quite a lot.

“I know what MgGonagall said,” (Y/N) interrupted, choosing to ignore the part where he complimented her, “and you are not wasting my time, Oliver. I agreed to help you, remember?” He nodded his head slowly, watching his hands. (Y/N) thought he looked like a kid getting reprimanded. “Now, try one more time.”

And one more time he failed, yellow canary feathers falling down to the floor,  joining Oliver’s past attempts at mastering the Bird-Conjuring Charm. 

She saw him scratch his forehead with his eyes closed and lips barely visible because of the way he was biting on them. 

“You’re not doing the correct hand movement, I think that’s why it isn’t working,” (Y/N) noticed, “look, give me your hand.” She grabbed his right hand, the one holding his wand, delicately, fingers barely touching the skin. Taking his wrist and positioning herself on Oliver’s side, she showed him how to do accurate motion. “And you just say Avis.”

The next time he did the incantation, a loud blast, pretty much like the sound of a gun being fired, resonated throughout the place. Once the smoke dissipated, several yellow birds flew from the tip of his wand to the empty classroom they were practising in. Twittering and chirping filled the room, but as quickly as they did, they became background noise when Oliver let out a loud laugh at his achievement. 

He turned around, a big grin on his face and brightness in his eyes, now a completely different person. She smiled at him, his excitement starting to feel contagious.

“See, you don’t have to be so hard on yourself,” (Y/N) murmured. If only she’d take her own advice. “I think you’re good to go and-and do whatever you do before a Quidditch match.”

“Thank you, for agreeing to this.”

She shook her head, the corners of her mouth slightly going up. “No problem.”

Oliver walked towards the door and before he opened it, the boy asked, “will I see you at the match?”

“Maybe.”

“Nice, it’ll be good to see you there,” he’d smiled at her one last time and left the unused classroom. 

Biting down the nail on her thumb, (Y/N) let out a silly giggle, one of those that only escape people’s mouth when they are drunk or can’t get that one person out of their minds. Perhaps she was reading into this situation the wrong way, but for just a tiny moment she didn’t care. She enjoyed the warm feeling on her stomach, as if a ton of thestrals had suddenly decided to fly across it, and the erratic pace of her heart every time Oliver would glance at her or say anything remotely kind. 

Then the realisation came and with it, tangled like some kind of broken and dark creature, her severely damaged pride. She had to admit to Dorian’s face that he was, in fact, correct and that his ridiculous plan may actually work.

TAGS: @peeves-a-legend​ (amazing person and writer, read all of her work!).

[bl597]

Could you write a Fred Weasley imagine where he likes the reader but she’s Ron’ best friend along with Harry’s and Hermione. And he doesn’t want that because if there were to break up, he would have to pick a side. And he doesn’t want to pick between his brother and best friend.

hello, dear! 💞💞 of course i can!! hope you enjoy it and please forgive me for taking so long to post it!!

warnings: hell yes I finally finished it!! it's agnsty but a little fluffy I guess, fem!reader but nothing that could change the story (you can replace it with male/gender neutral pronouns), reader's the same age as the golden trio, not revised bc im lazy, english is not my first language, so I'm sorry for any mistakes!! requests are closed for a while!

my masterlist ♡

Ron had noticed it all before even you knew it; the way you and Fred looked at each other longer than friends should look at each other. Or how a blush painted both your faces whenever you were in the same room. Or how you always flirted. Or how you wouldn't shut up about each other for one bloody second. Or just how in love you seemed to be.

He hated it, honestly. You were his best friend and Fred was his brother, it was weird to even think about it. Besides, he didn't want it all to begin because if there is a break up, he would be forced to pick a side, and that was definitely not something he wanted to do.

The Yule Ball was a few months away and Fred had already tried to talk to Ron about asking you to go with him, and Ron always tried to find an excuse to avoid his brother. How was he supposed to say he wouldn't help him without looking like an idiot?

“You should tell him” he heard Hermione's voice as she entered the common room with you, both of you giggling.

“I think I'll just wait a little” you quietly said, sitting down in front of Harry and Ron. “Hi, boys”

“Hello” said Harry looking up from his Charms homework and smiling at you and Mione, who smiled back at the boy.

“Hi” Ron pushed the parchment and books aside with a loud groan, cursing Snape and Potions with all his heart and then turned to you two with furrowed brows. “What are you two talking about?”

Hermione giggled, wiggling her eyebrows at you with a small smirk while placing a book on top of the table and opening it. “(Y/n) is waiting for Freddie to ask her to the Yule Ball” she replied in a playful tone, which made you slap her armp lightly.

“What?!” Ron exclaimed, ears as red as his hair.

Everyone looked at him with a censorship look and his face became even redder as he apologized to the other people on the common room. He then looked at you again, eyes wide in surprise.

Okay, he did know you and Fred had feelings for each other, but he didn't think any of you would actually act on it. Hadn't Fred give up after all those miserable attempts to ask for Ron's opinion on how he should ask you out? Of course not, Fred doesn't give up so easily, Ron thought, mentally facepalming himself with a silent groan.

“Why Fred? There are a lot of other cool boys in the castle” he said in an almost accusing tone, which mad you frown. “I bet a lot of boys had asked you out already, you should go with one of them”

“I mean,” you shyly started, an almost invisible blush painting your cheeks “Finch-Fletchley had asked me to go to the Ball with him, but I said I needed to think about it and then I'd tell him.”

“Bullshit” Hermione added chuckling “You only said that because you were waiting for a certain redheaded Gryffindor to ask you out.”

You blushed a deep shade of red at her commentary, playfully rolling your eyes and she smirked. “Oh, hush, Granger”

~

“What are we doing?” Harry confusedly asked, almost running so he could catch Ron, who was going somewhere with heavy footsteps, ears red like their robes.

“Trying to find Fred” he replied and Harry almost didn't hear him, the noise in the corridors making it almost impossible to hear him.

Harry didn't ask anything else, deciding it would be better to just silently follow his best friend and see what he was up to. They didn't stop walking until they reached the Great Hall, where the twins and Lee Jordan were excitedly talking about a new prank.

“Fred Weasley!” he shouted, getting the attention of some other students that were calmly eating, now looking at him with furrowed brows. Harry quietly apologized to them before following Ron to were his brothers and Lee were.

“Hello, brother dearest. What do I own the honour of your visit?” Fred asked with a cheeky smile, drinking his pumpkin juice while looking at Ron, waiting for him to speak.

“You come with me. Now.” he said rather coldly, which made Fred get confused. They quietly left the Great Hall, leaving Harry, George and Lee curiously following them with their eyes as they disappeared from the Hall.

The two redheads kept walking around the castle's corridors, trying to find a place that wasn't occupied by the students. Ron stopped walking when he saw an empty corridor, and he quickly dragged Fred inside it with him, turning around to the older boy with arched brows and a I-know-all-your-sins look.

“I know what you're planning, and that won't happen” Ron finally said, crossing his arms over his chest “You won't ask (Y/n) to go to the Ball with you, okay?”

Then it all clicked on Fred's mind, a smirk immediately forming itself on his lips. “Awn, is Ickle Ronniekins jealous?” he mocked his younger brother, even though there was a hint of jealousy on his own voice.

“What? No!” Ron exclaimed, a blush painting his face and neck, the tip of his ears feeling and looking like it was on fire. “She's my best friend. And that's the problem”

“So, you want to ask her out?” Fred asked quietly whilst crossing his arms over his chest, proping up on the wall next to him. “You know I fancy her for a while, mate”

“Bloody hell! I do not want to ask her out!” Ron groaned, looking at Fred like it was the most obvious thing in the world “I just don't want you to do it, because then you two would start dating and I don't want that because if you two break up, I have to pick up a side, and I don't want to lose my brother or my best friend!”

Ron finally exploded, saying what was bothering him for the past months, and it felt like all the weight on his shoulders magically disappeared. He never felt so light like right now, it was a fantastic feeling. Fred was looking at him in shock, eyes wide open at his brother's words.

“Oh” was all Fred could say, his shoes suddenly being the most interesting thing he could lay his eyes on at the moment.

“Yeah” Ron replied quietly, an awkward silence between the two Weasleys, none of them knowing what to do or say right now. Ron then cleared his throat, getting Fred's attention. “I should go back now, Harry has lots of practice to do for the next task. Hm, see you around”

~

“You did what?!” Hermione incredulously asked, homework soon forgotten. You shushed her, trying to make her remember you were in the library. “Sorry, sorry. But why did you do that?” she finished her question, talking quieter than before.

“I said I'll go to the Ball with Justin” you shrugged as if it was nothing, turning your attention back to the piece of parchment in front of you, dipping the quill on the ink and continuing your essay about the Bezoar and its properties.

“But why? Weren't you planning on asking Fred?”

“Yeah, but the Ball is in two weeks and he already has a partner. Besides, Justin is cute, I should give him a chance, maybe” you simply replied, still focused on your essay.

She looked at you with furrowed brows, but decided not to say anything else and do her homework instead.

~

The night was fantastic, the Great Hall was decorated with beautiful winter ornaments, and a baby blue was painting the walls and tables. The students were gracefully dancing with their partners and even the teachers were dancing too. It all looked magical and like it just came straight from a fairytale.

“May I have this dance, Miss (Y/l/n)?” asked Justin playfully, extending his hand for you to take it and you gladly did with a smile.

“Yes, you may, Mr Finch-Fletchley” you replied, letting him lead you to the dance floor.

This song was slower than the last one, which meant you'd have to be closer to each other. He shyly placed his hand on your hip after asking if you were comfortable with that, taking your right hand in his as you placed your left one on his shoulder. You then started slow dancing to the song on the background, the other couples doing the same on the Hall.

It was nice to spend time with him, you two surprisingly had a lot of things in common and the silence between you two wasn't awkward or weird, it was actually nice and comfortable, but something was missing.

He didn't make fun remarks about professor Snape's I-was-forced-to-be-here face, or jokes about Ron awkwardly dancing with Padma Patil, or about anything else. He was amazing, but he wasn't Fred.

You felt bad for accepting going out with Justin as a 'second option', but it was not like you were using him.. right? Fred was going with someone else, so you found other person to go with. It's fair, right? Besides, it could happen anyways; not everything in life happens the way we all want to, or else it would be really boring. Shrugging those thoughts out of your head, you focused on your partner again, moving your body with his as you two danced the night away.

It was around midnight when the students started leaving the Great Hall, and you were one of those students. You were planning on going to your dorm and sleep like a baby until tomorrow, but decided against it and went to the courtyard, where a very few people were.

The night breeze was cold and the snow was adorning the ground and shrubs around the courtyard. The sky was dark and the stars were brightly shining on it, the moonlight illuminating all the place. It was a very lovely night.

You then caught sight of a small bench away from the kissing teenagers and headed to it, brushing the snow out of it before sitting down. You were just enjoying the fresh air after being at the Ball for the last hours. It's not like you didn't like it, it was the total opposite of it, you loved the night and the Ball was perfect, you just needed some time away from the crowd.

“Shouldn't you be at your dorm?” you heard a very familiar voice from behind you, which made you jump a little, quickly looking at the voice's owner with a smile.

It was Fred. He was still wearing the clothes he wore earlier, his hair was covering half of his face, but it was still clear he was with a silly smile on his lips. That made you smile too.

“Shoudn't you be at your dorm?” you replied with his own question, raising a brow at his with a small smirk.

“Now you got me” he joked, sitting down next to you on the bench. “Didn't feel like sleeping yet. You?”

“Same” you quietly said, looking at the night sky. “So, where's Angelina?”

“At the Gryffindor common room, I guess” he replied after a little while, turning to look at you. “And where's Finch-Fletchley?” his voice carried a bit of annoyance at the mention of the Hufflepuff boy's name.

“Dancing with a Beauxbatons girl” you giggled as you remembered Justin clumsily dancing with a girl who was taller than him “He really has lots of energy and I was tired of dancing, so he kind of found another partner”

He nodded quietly, still focused on you. You flushed red when you noticed he had been watching you for a few minutes, suddenly feeling your cheeks burning under his deep stare.

“You know, we learnt how to read the stars in Astronomy” Fred spoke with a serious expression, and you turned all your attention to him, eager to hear the rest. It was no surprise you always loved Astronomy and were more than excited to learn more and more about it. “And these starts are telling me something, something really important”

You gasped, eyes widened as you attentively listened to every word that left his mouth. “What is it, Freddie?”

He inched closer to you, to the point where your noses were almost touching and your breath hitched, anxiously awaiting for his answer while trying your hardest not to blush even more because of how close his lips were to yours.

“They say you should kiss me.” he said with a cheeky smile, watching in amusement as your face became redder than his hair. “The stars never lie”

With a confident smirk, you closed the gap between you two, softly placing your lips on his in a short peck that soon became an actual kiss, your mouths moving in sync with each other, tongues gracefully dancing together inside your mouths as your hands flew to his face, cupping his cheeks in order to deepen the kiss.

You pulled apart minutes later, gasping for air. Both your faces were a shade of dark pink, both from the kiss and from the freezing breeze assaulting your bodies. You could still feel the ghost of Fred's soft lips hovering over yours, and it was a deliciously confusing feeling. The kiss made you feel warm inside and it lit things up on you that made you feel happy and light.

But at the same time, it just felt so wrong to do it. It was like a guilty pleasure, even though you didn't exactly know why you felt guilty. Maybe it was because you two already had partners and it would be a little unfair of your parts to do it? Or maybe was it because deep down you knew it just felt wrong because kissed your best friend's brother? You couldn't really point out what was it, but it left a weird feeling inside your chest.

“I'm sorry” you said in a weak voice, barely over a whisper. What exactly you were apologizing for you didn't know, but it felt like the right thing to do at the moment.

“I wanted to ask you to go to the Ball with me” he quietly admitted and you frowned at him.

“Why didn't you do it then?”

“I promised Ron I wouldn't” you opened your mouth to ask why, but he continued speaking “He said that if we start dating and then break up, he would have to choose between you and me, and he doesn't want that. I felt like it would be a little selfish of me if I asked you out after he told me that, so I came with Angelina.”

Oh. So that was why Ron was acting weird when Hermione mentioned you going out with Fred. You couldn't blame him for it, I mean, you would feel the same if one of your best friends started dating your brother or sister. It was weird to feel like this.

But, wasn't it a little bit selfish of Ron? Like, okay, he doesn't want to pick a side, but doesn't he want you to be happy? What if the relationship lasts for a long time? What if you don't break up and actually be happy with each other? You wouldn't know, because Ron was afraid of the 'what if they break up' part. It actually angered you a little bit.

“What if it goes fine, Fred?” your question finally broke the silence, voice soft and weak as it left your mouth. His eyes turned to you, his warm brown eyes examining every detail of your face. “We wouldn't know because we didn't even try.”

“We could try” he said, a genuine small smile on his lips as he took your hands in his, squeezing them softly in a reassuring way.

“Let's talk about this tomorrow, okay? It's already late” you replied quietly, giving his cheek a kiss before getting up. “Good night, Freddie.”

And then you headed to inside the castle to go to your common room, leaving Fred sitting there alone. You felt bad for leaving right now, but you just needed to think about it and sleep. You could talk about it in the morning.

~

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@bwitchd @fific7 @iamak20 @msmimimerton @grierpilots @idontknowwhatthisisfam @imseeinggred @kashishwrites @tsuukichan @mischiefsemimanaged @just-a-dreamer23

[vibraniumwing]

back to you.

a harry potter x reader blurb wherein harry attempts to break things off, but you’re making it harder to do so.

WARNING: a bit of angst but mostly fluff

A/N: so this is another anon request from my 100-follower celebration, and this time, it’s about our golden boy harry !! this was quite hard for me to write since i’m still new to writing about our precious hero, but i hope you guys like it!! (i know i said angst but idk if i should even consider it as that)

request: “could i get a 🥳 with harry and the sentence ‘every part of me finds myself back to you’ with a bunch of fluff?”

---

You were the ray of sun that Harry Potter looked forward to every time he woke up; for every day that passed by with the impending terror of the Dark Lord returning, you were his safe space. For every little thing he does, he’s reminded of you.

But there are times wherein people have to let their loved ones go, even if it meant breaking their hearts, just to protect them.

---

Harry was sat in his dorm one night, staring out the window, watching the moon reflect down on the Black Lake as he pondered his thoughts quietly, “What the bloody hell are you doing, Harry?” Ron’s voice suddenly interrupting his thoughts, startling the wits out of the boy.

“I was thinking of ending things with (Y/N).” He bluntly said, eyes still trained on the calm ripples of lake, “Voldemort’s back and I just want to protect them. I can’t shake off this feeling that he might get to them one day, you know?” 

Ron was confused, seriously questioning his best friend’s actions, “Are you sure about that? Can you really do that?” He asked, raising at eyebrow at the brunette who just looked at him with a dead serious expression.

“There’s always a first for everything, Ron.”

---

The next day was your trip to Hogsmeade, which meant it was your date with Harry. You sat down by the Common Room waiting for your lovely boyfriend to come down from his dorms. 

Soon enough, Harry strolled down and saw you patiently wait by the fireplace. He briskly marched up to you and said, “W-We need to talk.” internally cringing at the fact the stuttered because of his heart pounding against his chest. 

You looked at him with a rather calm look and gave him a wide smile. “Alright then, how about we discuss it over a mug of butterbeer, my love?” You offered, holding out your hand as you motioned for the portrait hole. 

He looked at you rather surprised, unsure as to why you were so calm despite of him saying that he had to talk to you about something. Normally, when he would see people say that, the receiving end would be frantic and panic, but you were the exact opposite.

Unbeknownst to him however, was the fact that you already knew what he was going to say. You accidentally overheard a certain ginger rant to a rather curly headed girl about “him breaking it off” with the response of “he won’t last a week without them, that’s just not going to happen.” So you were going to test that theory out.

Arriving at The Three Broomsticks, you pulled him in and sat him down for a mug of the delicious drink and looked at him expectantly, “So, what do you want to talk about, Mr. Potter?” You asked, taking a sip of the sweet drink.

He looked around for any spectators before looking at you nervously, “I- I think we should go our separate ways, (Y/n).” He said, his lips turning into a slight frown as your expression never changed, taking a sip from his drink once more.

“Alright then.” Was you could answer, albeit knowing that he was going to do this, it still stung quite a bit since you can’t even imagine a life without him in it; your gut however, wanted to test that out and let him just have his way, trusting that he wouldn’t even last a day without you in it. “I’ll be going off then, Harry. It’s been a fun ride.” You answered, breathing in deeply as you stood up and left, leaving the male confused as ever.

---

“...And then- And then they just walked away! They didn’t even cry or anything.” Harry continued to rant, Ron just nipping away at his pack of jellies as he stared at his friend. 

“Isn’t that an advantage though? They didn’t make a fuss about you being gone.” He reasoned out, shrugging at him lightly as he stared at his distressed mate. 

“Y-You’re right, Ron. Maybe it’s better like that.”

---

Harry was roaming around the school corridor, laughing with Ron as students passed them left and right, pointing to a student who was struggling with the rather large amount of books she had to carry to class.

“Hey Ron, remember when (Y/N) was struggling with their books as well? They looked so cute back then-” The male soon paused himself, realizing that he wasn’t even with you anymore. 

Ron just laughed at him softly, “Regretting your decision already, mate?” He asked, patting his friend’s shoulder gently as pointed to his right, causing him to look over to that direction.

Right then, Harry saw you laughing softly with Hermione as you walked down the corridor, a wide smile on your lips at whatever she was saying. 

A frown made its way to Harry’s face as he watched your retreating figure, remembering how that smile of yours would always show up when you see him, even when the two of you were just walking down the corridor beside him. 

“Oi Harry, are you coming? We’re going to be late to potions.” Ron said, nudging his friend as he jumped down the bench. Harry just looked him before making his way down wordlessly, off the mood as he made his way to class with the ginger.

---

“Say (Y/N), What are the properties of- Oh right.” Harry caught himself mid-sentence as he stared to the empty seat next to him, frowning lightly as he remembered you while working on the essay he had for Herbology, knowing that you had a keen love for the subject. 

“Missing them already, aren’t you?” Hermione spoke up, eyes still trained on her book as she wrote down her answers, dipping her quill in ink as she continued, “They miss you, you know.” 

Harry wanted to believe that, but your reaction that day makes him believe otherwise. 

As if you heard them, you jumped in through the portrait hole, a few books hugged tight to your chest. Looking up, you met eyes with your “ex” lover, showing him a rather bright smile, you made your way to the front of the couch and settles on the floor, making yourself comfortable as you started to read.

“Now’s your chance, go.” Hermione whispered once more, pushing Harry off his seat and towards you. He stumbled out of the chair and walked awkwardly, hand rubbing against his nape as he opened his mouth yet no words came out.

“Yes, Harry?” Your voice rung out, causing him to visibly tense up, his awkwardness taking over as he sat beside you, making you look at him with a curious gaze, yet an excited grin was on your lips. 

“W-we neet to talk, please.” He started off, taking a deep breath in as he adjusted his glasses, licking his lips briefly as he gave you a brief smile, to which you returned with a slow nod, urging him to continue. 

“I think I may have reacted rather irrationally, with my words the other day.” He said, coughing lightly as he brushed his hands over his pants, glancing back at Hermione and Ron who just nodded at him. 

You tried hard to bite back your smile and hug you awkward boy tightly, accepting him back just like that. “Is that what all you have to say, Mr. Potter?” 

He sighed softly, “Look, I’m sorry, okay? I made a mistake of breaking things off. I’m just concerned for you, love. With Voldemort back, he has his eyes on me and it’s not far-fetched that he might get to you as well. I just thought distance might do us good, you know?” He said, giving you a sheepish grin, you pursed your lips as you motioned him to finish what he has to say. 

“Turns out I was wrong, I couldn’t even last a day without mentioning your name. I tried, (Y/N) but every part of me finds myself back to you.”

By the end of little speech, you just settled your book down and opened your arms for him, “Come here and give me a hug, you big baby.” You teased, laughing softly as Harry crawled into your arms, sighing softly in relief as his arms wrapped around your waist tightly. Your hand finding its way into his hair, playing with his locks gently.

“Do you seriously think I won’t accept you back, love?” You asked him, breaking away from the hug to cup his cheeks with both of your hands as he nodded, a sad yet playful pout on his lips. You rolled your eyes gently, placing a quick peck as you continued, “I overheard a certain duo talk about you planning on doing so and how you wouldn’t even last a day without me.”

Harry looked back at his friends who had wide eyes, returning back to their homework and pretended to not know what you were talking about. “I trust you too much but I wanted to see if that was true. Do you really think I’d let you walk away that easily from me? After you getting over that awkward phase when you ran up to me after the Yule Ball?”

He rolled his eyes at you laughed out loud at the memory, brushing your hair gently as he whispered, “But seriously, love. I’m really sorry for what I did.” and you leaned into his touch, gently kissing his palm as you smiled. 

“There’s no need to apologize, my golden boy. I’ve already forgiven you right from the start. I love you too much.”

“And I love you as much.”

[theweasleysredhair]

Also, can you write one with 11, 16, and 18 with James Potter from fluff prompt list? I absolutely love reading fluff of this dude.

theweasleysredhair’s 4.6k follower event!

~~

11. “Is that... my shirt?”

16. “You’re cute when you’re half asleep.”

18. “I wouldn’t change a thing about you.”

~~

Character: James Potter

Word Count: 532

Taglist: @dreamer821 @gracemayhateyou @criminalyetminimal @firewhisky-kisses @obsessedwithrandomthings @angelinathebook @iprobablyshipit91 @potterverseimagine @slytherineheir @kpopgirlbtssvt @rexorangecouny @tinylumpiaa @kashishwrites @girl-next-door-writes | message or send an ask to be added/removed!

Disclaimer: Gif isn’t mine, credit goes to whoever made it

~*~

PLEASE DO NOT REPOST MY WORK! REBLOGS ARE ABSOLUTELY FINE! <3

+ + + + +

“WAKE UP!” a voice yelled down your ear, making you jump. Your eyes widened and you looked around frantically, frowning and rolling your eyes when you saw James laughing at you.

“You really had to scare me like that?” You grumbled, pulling your cardigan around you further and crossing your arms over your chest.

“Had to make sure you were still awake, didn’t I love! What’s all this work you’ve left out anyway?” He gestured to the multiple pieces of parchment scattered across the table in front of you, alongside a pot of ink and a few quills.

“Well I was trying to finish my potions essay but I must’ve-“ you paused to let out a small yawn, “gotten sleepy.” The corner of James’ mouth curled into a smile as he stared at you for a moment.

You frowned, running a hand through your messed up hair self-consciously, “What are you staring at?”

He licked his bottom lip and shot you a grin, “Nothing just... you’re cute when you’re half asleep.”

You felt yourself grow warm, hoping the darkness of the room hid how nervous his comment made you, “T-Thank you?”

He laughed, “You’re welcome, love.”

You offered him a shy smile, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before moving to remove your cardigan, feeling too warm with it on due to close proximity to the brunette boy and the roaring fire that lay barely a few feet in front of you.

James glanced over at you and felt his breath hitch. Gulping, he nodded over at you, “Is that... my shirt?”

Your eyes widened, heart beating a tad faster as you stammered out a response, “Um, well, yes, yes it is! I had a wardrobe malfunction at dinner and Remus said he’d grab me a shirt to change into at the time and- well I didn’t realise it was yours! You can have it back if you want!”

James knew in that moment that Remus had given you his shirt on purpose, knowing that it would make him flustered, pushed off balance when he saw you in it - and Remus would be correct. Because to James, you looked gorgeous - absolutely stunning - sat crossed legged on the couch, messy hair and wearing his shirt.

“As much as I’d like you to take your top off right now love, I can promise you that you look better in my shirt than I ever did, so keep it,” he replied, throwing an arm around your shoulder and grabbing your hand with his free one, making your heart race.

“I-I wouldn’t say I look better, I mean... I need to brush my hair, I’m pretty sure my mascara is smudged and I have the biggest bags under my eyes,” you let out a laugh, shrugging at yourself.

James shook his head immediately, “I wouldn’t change a thing about you.”

Your eyes met his deep brown ones and you couldn’t help smiling, “You wouldn’t?”

There was a small smile playing at his own lips as his eyes flickered down to where his hands were entangled with yours, before back up to catch your gaze,

“Nah I wouldn’t... why mess with perfection?”

[starkidpotty]

Should’ve Known Better [GW]

After the Second Wizarding War, the wizarding world faces a great recession that puts you and George in financially and morally compromising situations.

Pairing: George Weasley x Reader

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: swearing and terrible use of tenses (im sorry for the grammar)

A/N: written for angst prompt #14 for @kalimagik​‘s 1.3k writing challenge!! congrats on 1.3k again!! <3 

You had always been good–exceptional, actually–at writing since your teenage years. Essays you’ve written for work assigned by Professor Flitwick managed you top marks. Hell, even Snape commended your writing from time to time (if he wasn’t too busy taking away points from Gryffindor.) Throughout your years at Hogwarts, you entered multiple wizarding writing competitions and won them all. It made sense to you to seek out a job at the Daily Prophet after graduating from Hogwarts to put those writing skills  to good use. 

Your first year at the Daily Prophet was difficult, to say the least. You were paid almost next to nothing and writing on an empty stomach while worrying if you had enough galleons to pay rent was terrible for your creative process. On top of that, it seems as though whatever piece you made never satisfied your boss, Angel Hornbeam, editor of the Tragedies and Mishaps section of the paper. Each piece you wrote was either sent back with red ink splattered across the parchment with scathing comments on how sophomoric & crass your writing was or outright discarded. You didn’t know what Angel hated more: you or your writing. 

There you were walking down Diagon Alley after a grueling day at work. You made two pieces today–only two pieces–that were immediately thrown out to the rejection pile at the corner of Angel’s office. Roan Staghart, a colleague of yours, accidentally spilled pumpkin juice all over you which Angel pointed out and subsequently prompted her to give you a long-winded lecture on how unbecoming it was to sport such an unprofessional appearance in a place of work. You made your way down Diagon Alley with your path only being illuminated by the lights in the shops you passed.  You were downtrodden and hungry and lonely and unmotivated and uninspired. You thought about the eviction notice plastered to your flat’s door that you received earlier that day before heading off to work. You thought about the empty pantry in said flat, which then reminded you of your empty wallet. Lost in thought and not looking directly straight ahead, you ram your head straight into the open door of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. Your arse lands on the cobblestoned path and you’re clutching your bleeding nose with your right hand, while your left provides support. 

“Merlin, I’m sorry!” says one of the Weasley twins as he hurriedly walks toward you. 

“Georgie, go get her some ice.” says the twin to the other behind him, still clutching the door open. 

“Fred, right? Sorry, I’m shite at telling you and your brother apart.” You say while letting out a humourless chuckle, wincing in pain as you clutch your nose. Fred crouches down to your level.

“S’alright, just know I’m the better looking one.” He pauses, “You’re [Y/N], you were in [Hogwarts House], correct? I remember you selling a pre-written essay  to Lee in our fourth year. T’was the only he got an O for, if I recall.” says Fred with a joking grin. George runs back with ice wrapped in a handkerchief which he passes to Fred, which Fred passes to you. 

“Had to make money to buy butterbeer at Hogsmeade somehow.” You answer him as you bring the wrapped ice to your nose. Both the brothers smile at you and you smile back. 

“Fred and I were actually headed off to dinner at our flat, join us. I suppose it’s the least we could do after the damage we’ve inflicted onto your poor nose.” George proposes. 

“I couldn’t impose–” 

“Nonsense!” They say in unison. Fred offers you a hand, which you graciously take. He pulls you up and you walk with them to their flat.  

You were now at the Weasley twins’ shared flat at the edge of Diagon Alley. It was the best meal you’ve had in weeks, not to mention the twins’ presence was a morale booster in itself. Dinner lasted an hour, but the conversations after lasted well into the night. You wondered why you weren’t friends with the twins during their school years. Perhaps if you detached your hand from your favorite quill and parchment, you would have been. Regardless, that night sparked a friendship. 

You were stopping by the shop on your way home from work on the daily and the twins enjoyed your presence so much so they offered you a small, part-time job as a stock keeper as a means to keep yourself afloat while your work your way up the Daily Prophet ladder. They’d come to visit you in their spare time at your dinky flat  on the border of Knockturn and Diagon alley. As hard as your first year at the Daily was, your newfound friendship with Fred and George made it all the worthwhile. While you and Fred remained friends, you and George had begun to engage in a shameless “flirtationship” as you coined–always dancing on the border of friends and being more than friends. Stealing kisses in the shop, holding hands underneath dinner tables, George reasoning out to Fred that you needed help at your flat only for him to spend the night, writing little notes for George before he left in the morning. Everyone around you knew you and George were it, as much as you and he tried to suppress it. One day, George decided to make it real and official.  

Your personal life had improved immensely after your horrendous first year as a journalist. You were dating George Weasley, your pantry was always full now, and you didn’t have to worry about getting evicted anymore. Your work life wasn’t as terrible as before as Angel Hornbeam turned over a new leaf and was much more forgiving at work. You were finally given a small promotion–not a choice Angel made, but by a higher-up as you stayed loyal to the good of the wizarding world–which offered you enough stability to leave the shop. 

The wizarding world at this point in time, however, was not improving. Death eaters infiltrated the ministry and your beloved Hogwarts. They started censoring pieces at the Daily Prophet, much to your chagrin. You couldn’t write or report about tragedies happening as the Death Eaters wanted the media to depict dark wizards as righteous and justify their actions. You moved over to making crossword puzzles for the paper as opposed to spewing lies about Lord Voldemort and his mission to take over the wizarding world. Fred and George had to close down shop for the time being as the Weasleys went into hiding.

Then the Battle of Hogwarts happened. You fought alongside Fred and George, casting spells and charms. Blasting death eaters left and right. You did everything you could to fight against the Death Eaters. But you couldn’t save Fred, nor could George. George was never the same after Fred’s death and neither were you. You were both deeply resigned to grieving and still continue to do so everyday. The sun still rose and set like it always did, but Fred was gone and the world just kept spinning. It left you and George no time to breathe. 

The wizarding world slowly built itself back up after the war, with Kingsley Shacklebolt acting as the Minister for Magic. He’d done a bloody good job of it. He purged out the dark wizards from the ministry and from the Daily Prophet, effectively returning most things back to normal. You were back to writing in the Tragedies and Mishap department, but the wizarding world hit a great recession after the war. People were losing jobs left and right; you knew for a fact that your neck was next on the chopping board if you didn’t come up with a good piece soon. Though George was slowly reopening the shop, with the help of his family, it wasn’t enough to keep you and he afloat. Losing this job would bring your right back to where you were your first year out of Hogwarts and you were determined to avoid that. 

--

It was 3 o’clock in the afternoon, two hours to the end of the work week. You haven’t written anything substantial in a while and your desk was evidence. The brown wood was stained with droplets of stray ink from your quill, but they weren’t as obvious because of the crumpled pieces of ripped parchment scattered across the desk. Your hand was ink-stained and your hair was in disarray. To say the least, you looked a mess. 

“[Y/N], I need you in my office,” Angel called out to you, peering out of her office door. 

You stood up, straightening out your top, trying to look as presentable as possible. Walking over to her office catches the attention of your many officemates. Your stomach begins to feel like a vacuum, sucking in all the air around you, ineffectively trying to get you to breathe. Were your fears getting realized? Was this it for your writing career? So many thoughts raced in your head as you walked–slogged, rather–the distance from your desk to Angel’s office. You reach the archway of her door and she instructs you to close it. You gulp heavily. 

“Yes, Angel? Anything I could do for you?” You anxiously choke out. You feel like your guts are about to unceremoniously find its way out your mouth and onto her office floor. 

Her office was decorated all in black, from her quills to her velvet wallpaper. Angel stood out in the gloomy decor of her office, sporting an all-white outfit. She says it’s a metaphor–tragedies are both light and dark, simultaneously and she wants to embody that. A little pretentious, but she’s right nonetheless. 

“Don’t look at me like that, I’m not going to fire you, darling.” Darling, a term of endearment, but never when it came from Angel’s lips. “I’m close, but I won’t. I have a proposition” 

You look at her intently, your eyes almost bulging. 

“I want an editorial piece on grief and love. I want romance wrapped in despair, topped with angst.” Angel mused. 

“I beg your pardon?” You muster out.

“Write about lost love, the war did just happen–it’ll be fresh, uncut,” Angel pauses for dramatic effect, “Absolutely raw.” She clenches her fist in such a theatrical manner, it's almost comical. 

You stay silent, unsure of what to say or do. Your face must’ve looked bewildered, as she slouches and rolls her eyes. 

“Godric, I want you to interview someone who lost the love of their life because of the war, so to speak. It’ll do wonders for readership. Have you read that muggle story–Romeo and Juliet? Love and tragedy create such a spicy little mix.” She says in response to your look. 

“Wouldn’t that be exploitative, no? Everyone’s still grieving.” You question Angel. 

“That’s journalism.” Angel’s brows are furrowed and you can tell she’s trying to control her temper. “I better have a damn well-written editorial on my desk come Monday morning. May I remind you, you are the last of your colleagues to have either been promoted up or let go. Do you want to be the latter?” 

You gulp, she hasn’t threatened you since your first year at the office. You shakily let out a soft no. She returns with a softly-said good and points you to the direction of her door. 

--

You were on your way home to you and George’s shared flat in Diagon Alley. Your mind was raking itself for who you could possibly call to satisfy Angel’s wants. The gears were grinding hard until you had the aha moment–Angelina. Her and Fred’s relationship was complicated to say the least. They weren’t friends but they weren’t boyfriend and girlfriend, but they didn’t want to see other people. You could no longer recall what they were and with Fred gone, the answer didn’t seem to matter anymore. The “almost” aspect of the relationship would provide the angst–unfinished business, if you will. Fred’s death and the love that could’ve been. You lit up at the ideas forming in your head, but you feel your conscience gnawing at you. However, you and George had to keep the lights on somehow. 

George had beaten you home that night and was eating a packed dinner from Molly on your couch. You hang your bag on the rack next to the door, taking your coat off as well. You walk over to George, plotting your body next to him. Resting your head against his shoulder you say, “How was your day?” 

You each share quips about your days at work, leaving out Angel’s request entirely. A silence ensues and you find this to be the most opportune moment to ask him. 

“D’you mind having Angelina over tomorrow? A light catch-up? Haven’t seen her since, well, y’know when.” You ask George. His face stiffens. 

“Alright, would be good to see an old friend, yeah?” He manages to say. He gets up to write an owl to Angelina. He sends the owl off and within the hour, Angelina’s response comes back. She agrees. 

-- 

It’s the day of your interview-not-interview with Angelina. You are in the bathroom getting ready while George waits by the door for Angelina. Your self-writing quill for note taking and its accompanying notebook are hidden in a cupboard at the corner of the kitchen that could not be seen from the dining room, ready to start writing at your will. 

“Love, Angelina’s here!” George says through the bathroom door. You quickly get out, rounding the corner to get to the living room and see Angelina sat on your sofa. You bring her in for a hug which she happily returns, you feel the guilt creep up again. You try and dismiss the feeling as hard as you can but it lingers like an unwanted guest. Trying to ease your nerves, you invite her to the dining room, where food you cooked in the morning lay waiting. 

Angeline told stories about her life as a bigtime Quidditch match commentator and you entertained her with stories from the Sports department. You were both marveling at how much time has changed things since your graduation from Hogwarts to the war to life now. Now’s a good a time as any, your mind reasons out. You muster what little courage you had and shift the topic over to Fred. 

“So, Angelina, how have you been holding up, since the battle?” You ask her. George looks at you strangely, as he notes the shift and tone in your voice. 

“Uh, well I’m here. Coping. Grieving.” She responds.

“We’re here for you, tell us more.” You say, trying to probe more information out of her. A slimy feeling makes itself known in the insides of your stomach and you try your hardest to ignore it. 

Angelina stays silent and then starts, “It’s been rough, Fred–” The winning ticket. 

“What about Fred? It was a bit complicated before he died.” Cutting her off, you were siphoning as much information as you can. 

“Yes, it was. You know that.” Angelina deflected, but she continued. “I wish there was more time. More time with him.” Her voice grew heavy, but you tried to turn up the pressure.

“Tell me, what would you have done with that time? Were there things you would’ve said? Done?” 

Angelina takes an ugly pause. 

“Well?” You don’t mean to say this in such a crass and impatient manner, but you do.  

At this point, George stands up. He gets uncomfortable and goes to the cupboard to fetch himself a glass of water. As he inches to the cupboard, he hears scratching noises like a quill writing on parchment. He knows exactly what you’re doing now. Opening the cupboard he sees your quill and notebook scribbling away. On the pad is written, “‘A love lost, an almost,’ says Angelina as she begins to tell me about what could’ve been had Fred avoided his untimely death…” George stopped reading. It clicks in George’s head now. It explains the sudden decision to send an owl over to her last night. George’s jaw tenses up. 

He grabs a glass, closing the cupboard, while leaving the quill and notebook in there. He heads to the front of the refrigerator where you’d be unable to see him. It gives him time to rethink his next move while calming down. He knew journalism would be gross, but he didn’t think you’d prey on your friends–especially since you knew how everyone was still mourning the loss of his twin brother. 

Angelina begins to cry from the other room, but you continue to hound her with questions. “What would you be doing now if Fred were still around? Do you still dream of a life with him? What else have you been doing to fill the space? Do you wish there was more you could’ve done?” The words were practically marathoning out your mouth. The guilt in you subsides and all you feel now is a desire to get the truth out of Angelina. It’s as though you were watching this unfold from the corner of the room; it wasn’t you shoving questions down Angelina’s throat, but an entirely different entity. 

“Merlin, will you stop!” Angelina boomed. “I’m leaving. I missed you and George, I really did. But, how dare you. We’re all grieving and if this is your sick at attempt at therapy, I’ve damn near had it.” 

You’re silent and you feel yourself float back to your body, sat in front of a tearful and red-faced Angelina. She angrily gets up, dropping her fork onto the table. She makes a beeline for the coat rack, grabbing her things, and leaves–making sure to slam the door. 

“What the fuck was that, [Y/N]?” George shot at you, as he emerged from the kitchen. He was holding his glass of water with his fingers by the brim, both his arms by his side. The expression plastered on his face was a mixture between disappointed, frustration, and anger. You stay silent. 

“Answer me, what was that?” George repeats again. You still stay silent, you don’t know how to answer him. “Were you trying to make a piece out of Angelina?” 

You look down at your lap repentantly. “Angel said she’d fire me if I didn’t.”

George makes his way over to you, placing his glass on the dining room table. He doesn’t take a seat, instead he looks down at you in anger. 

“She’s our friend. She’s grieving, mourning–like you and me fucking both.” George was fuming, “You were being a prick and I didn’t like it, obviously neither did Angelina. I could say more, but out of respect, I won’t.” 

“George, we have to eat one way or another. I didn’t want to lose any more income than we already had!” You tried very hard to justify your reasons as to why. 

“At expense of a good friend of ours? Merlin, [Y/N].” George rebutted. “I can’t even look at you right now. I know you love writing, I do. I love your writing, in fact. But, this is low. All for what? A few fucking galleons? Merlin.” 

George turns his heel and stomps to the door, grabbing his coat and slamming the door shut in one swift motion. He presumably chases after Angelina to apologize on your behalf. You hang your head, trying to recollect yourself, and think about what to say to Angelina and George. 

You decide right then and there that you were going to quit your job at the Daily Prophet–there was always a need for writers in the Wizarding World anyway and jobs of that sort were probably not as exploitative in nature. Deciding to write a Letter of Resignation later that night, you trudge your way to the door, grab your coat, and run after George. 

--

masterlist here

[j-pankratz]

The Slumber that Creeps to Me

Geraskefer. 7208 Words. Rated T.  Jaskier pulls an extreme all-nighter (read: 60+ hours) to finish a paper he procrastinated on, and finds at the end of it that sleep does not come as easily as he’d hoped. Tags for: Sleep Deprivation, Self Destruction/Lack of Self Care, Hallucinations, Nightmares, Overstimulation, Hurt/Comfort, Whumping the Bard, very loving partners, and a happy ending. <3 AO3 link in the reblog!

As with most disasters spurned by his own cockiness, Jaskier felt as thought that all in all, the situation could have been worse.

The idea to have Geralt and Yennefer spend the spring holiday break at Oxenfurt was, in his defense, ingenious. His students weren’t around, the weather was gorgeous, they all had varying degrees of business in the city, and they could fuck each other senseless at any hour of the day. In a bed. A nice one, provided he was a legitimate professor, now. Well, visiting. Well, it was complicated. But they were his rooms, and that’s what mattered.

When Jaskier gotten the prestigious offer to write the season’s main article for the Continent’s most respected Bardic Journal, he’d just sort of figured he’d… fit it in, somewhere. He had seventeen months, which was plenty enough for him. Then he’d just work with the editors, and have a centerfold piece. It was an honor. He was excited about it! He’d meant to get to it sooner, but decided the summer before that he’d devote the winter to it. But… he’d… he’d been distracted. It wasn’t often the entire family gathered at Kaer Morhen. So, he thought, he’d do it later.

But the first few weeks after winter were, of course, spent with Geralt. And the week after that, a trip to the coast, where he’d played a festival and met up with Ciri, who was becoming an amateur critic herself. And then by pure, absolute happenstance, after 3 more weeks of travel he happened to end up at an inn that he definitely hadn’t heard Yennefer was staying at. So that more time gone. And then he’d arrived in Oxenfurt, and he’d really meant to get to work on it, but there was so much to prepare for! He wanted things to be right for them.

And then Yennefer and Geralt had actually arrived, and the idea of anything possibly being more important than their presence flew his mind.

And now, here he was. If he wanted to get it in on time (unfortunately, that wasn’t a suggestion in this case, more of an actual, terrifying requirement,) he’d need to submit it in… gods above, less than three days. 60 hours, if he was doing the math.

There was no word limit, nor a minimum. But, ever the maximalist, he knew it was going to be… long, if he was going to do it right. They’d edit it down, but it was the focal point of the journal, they’d been leading up to it for ages now. Ahh. Well. There was only one thing for it, he supposed.

“I’m working through the night on my paper!” He’d announced that morning, sitting straight up in bed, jostling his sleepy lovers. “No one bother me! I will be at the dining table until further notice!” He swung himself out of bed and made for the door.

“Pants,” his lovers chorused together.

“Right!” he'd said, and marched back into the room.

He’d pulled all-nighters in his youth. In fact, he couldn’t count the times he’d worked through the night, deposited a composition or essay on his professor’s desk with some polite conversation and maybe a wink, and then promptly fallen asleep during the lecture itself. Just a 15-minute power nap, really! Then he’d be back up and at it again, working through another night just to sleep through the weekend. He’d done it before, he could do it again.

Well, it’d been 25 years ago, but that didn’t change much, did it? He still felt spry, agile, hearty— hell, he’d spent the better part of the last twenty odd years chasing after a Witcher, and later an additional princess and mage— surely he should be in better health now!

This was completely accomplishable. Admittedly, he could have written this sooner… but he hadn’t, and here he was.

Geralt and Yennefer both set out early on different errands, leaving the bard to some peace and quiet. Relatively.

He spread his work and references out before him. 7 books, 4 pamphlets, his favorite quills, a hundred fresh pieces of parchments, his lute at his knee. “Alright,” he said aloud to his empty Oxenfurt apartment, “Just sit down and write the damn thing. Sitting part, definitely done. Writing next. Just… write.”

He stared at the page.

“No! No, no, do not be impossible about this. Just start the thing.”

The page stared back.

“Ah, blast,” he muttered, rubbing his eyes. This was fine. Just… do the awful, disgusting part of beginning, and then he’d be off. The sooner he started, the sooner he’d finish, after all! He took a breath, and put his pen to paper.

xx

Yennefer returned a few hours later, a book and small parcel in hand. Jaskier looked up to see her sweep through the room, a commanding presence, though she didn’t acknowledge him yet. A few waves of her hands and a pot of tea was put on to boil, her hair was put in a bun, and three mugs were floating down from a shelf.

“Lovely to see you too,” he smiled as Yennefer poked through the tea collection. He could practically hear her fond eye roll. She neatly plucked two from one box and looked back at him in question. “Ah… peppermint, if we’ve got it?” and she turned back to the cupboard grab it.

“Any progress?” She finally asked.

“A bit, actually!” Jaskier said cheerfully. It didn’t look like much, but he’d done half a page with almost no errors, and he’d made plenty of notes in the margins of the books he’d need later. It was better than he’d hoped it’d be going by this point, at least. He was kicking academia’s ass. Or, he would be.

The kettle whistled and Yennefer poured the tea, bobbing all three of the tea bags up and down as they steeped. He watched her lean against the counter, casual, relaxed, gorgeous, before realizing she was staring back at him. “Um! Yes, no, definitely good. Got a lot of… those words, you know, they are definitely here. Looking very sexy. The words! The writing is looking… very sexy, very curvy… letters. Sensuous words, you know.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Sensuous words.”

“Yeah, yes. Like… contemporaneous… and… iguana.”

“Iguana.” She let out a little huff of a laugh and something in Jaskier’s chest tightened and loosened in quick succession. And in a moment she was there, sliding him a large mug with the carving of a rather playful looking bear on one side, batting at a butterfly.

“Oh! My favorite. Thank you, thank you.”

“Mmm,” she said before waving a hand to cool down their tea a bit. She took a seat opposite him, scanning an eye over the table. “Think you’ll be done by tonight?”

Jaskier laughed. “Darling, I’ll be lucky to be done by tomorrow morning.”

“You’re planning to stay up all night, bard?”

“Unfortunately.” He took a sip. “Should be done by tomorrow afternoon, if I keep steady at it.”

“After tea, of course.”

“Of course.”

Yennefer stretched out a bit, kicking her feet onto Jaskier’s lap and rolling her neck. They sat there a moment, sipping, pausing, drinking in each other. There was something nice about taking a moment of stillness with someone just as frenetic as he was, someone who was usually just as itching for something to do, even if she went about it differently. The grace of choosing stillness, he thought, was not something to ignore.

Yennefer reached the end of her mug and tapped its ceramic walls lightly.

“What’s next for you?”

“I have to refresh my potion stock, so I’ll be at the market for supplies. You sure you don’t want to take a break and join?”

Rat’s ass. He fucking loved the Oxenfurt markets. “I’m afraid I can’t. Academia calls.”

“Who does it call for, exactly? What’s that I hear…” She cocked her head and listened intently. “Who is it calling for… is that… V… Val… Valdo?” Jaskier hefted her feet off of his lap in protest, and she laughed. He plucked his quill from its stopper, and went back to hovering over his paper. Introduction mostly accomplished, now he had to really lead in to his point, give some proper context. He flipped through a book beside him.

Yennefer rose smoothly from the table and went to move her mug to the sink. “When Geralt gets in, tell him I need toadflax and bluebells from him? Might as well put him to use.”

Jaskier flipped through the pages, thumbing through for a note he’d sworn he’d made ages ago, when he belatedly tried to register his mage’s words. He could have his fun, too.

“Blue…Yennefer, you want me to tell Geralt that you need blue balls from him?”

“Bells! Bells, you absolute child!” she said. “Honestly. Blue balls? Really, Jaskier?” He was giggling. “I don’t need to ask to give either of you blue balls.”

“Exactly, Yennefer, you provide that service for us anyway, free of charge!” A balled-up napkin hit him in the head and he laughed joyfully.

“I can’t stand you. I’m leaving, you’ll never see me again.”

Jaskier looked up through his grin and met her twinkling, happy eyes. “Tonight then?”

“Tonight,” she agreed, and left with a quick ruffle of his hair.

xx

“Still working?” Geralt said as greeting later in the afternoon. The desk was neater than Jaskier expected it to be this far in, only a few books open, dog eared and marked in colored ink. He’d written a page and a half since Yennefer left, and it was good, it was, but he’d need to go back and make edits later. His long empty mug of tea sat far across him.

“Mm,” he agreed, continuing to write. “Ah, Yennefer came through earlier,” giving a gesture to the waiting mug of tea on the counter. Geralt made his way over to the mug, and gave it a small igni to warm it. He smiled fondly down at the drink—what a terribly lovely sight he was. Warm here, and safe. Couldn’t it be like this always? The three of them here, comfortable and happy? No, he supposed, but gods how he wanted it.

“She’s at the market now,” Jaskier continued, “wanted me to ask you about...” He lifted his pen and squinted. “Ah, toadflax and bluebells.” He looked up at Geralt, smiling. “Blue balls,” they said together, sporting matching shit-eating grins, Geralt’s albeit much smaller. “I made the same joke myself,” Jaskier added.

Geralt snorted. “How’d she take that?”

“Oh, as well as you’d hope. We’ll never see her again, of course.” He turned back to his work, reading over the last paragraph. He could feel Geralt approach to stand behind him, and while he’d normally shoo his witcher off, he was too deep in concentration to bother.

How long was too long to linger on the progression of oral storytelling to bardship? It’s not like he could ignore it, (Geralt’s hand came to grip his shoulder, a thumb rubbing against it tenderly) as it was a crucial tenant of the argument— but there was plenty to be said for assuming the literacy and foreknowledge of the reader. (He leaned in to get a closer look at Jaskier’s page, the soft warmth of the tea in his other hand bouncing off his chest) But this was to be in a journal often referenced by first years, and he knew how much he would have loved a paper that had everything all in one—

“How’s it going?” Geralt asked softly in his ear.

Jaskier waved a hand over the mess before him. “You know. It’s fine, I’m just not sure at what point I’m lingering on points to excess.”

“Mm,” Geralt hummed understandingly. “Tell the story. Trust your gut.” He gave Jaskier a nuzzle and light kiss against his cheek before taking up the empty mug off the table and walking off further into the apartment.

“I always do!” Jaskier called back. Mm, if only this were as simple as telling a story. Well…Oh—if he spent this paragraph referencing the progression it would end up taking up more room, be a run of the mill lead-in, but if he wrote the actual history as a short story itself, now there was an idea, he could make his point and give the context. Oh, fuck, brilliant—

“Back soon,” Geralt was saying as the front door slipped shut, but the bard was too lost in his work to do more than give a small nod of his head.

The sun was falling, making a graceful bow into the horizon. Warm light spread out over the streets of Oxenfurt like the last pushes of tide, ebbing, and flowing, and sinking back into night.

“Ah, fuck,” Jaskier muttered, crossing out a spelling error with a snarl.

His shoulders ached, and his lower back was going to be the death of him. He was on page 7. All he could see was the work ahead of him, winding off ad infinitum. If he didn’t pick up the pace, he might have to go 60 hours straight—he shivered. Not ideal. He took a breath, stood up and stretched a bit, his muscles groaning in thanks. A quick bathroom break later and he was sliding back into his chair, still warm, his papers grinning up at him, sardonic.

He’d take a meal break at 10 pages, he told himself.

He stood to stretch and his head swam. Well. Plenty of reason to stay seated, he supposed.

Geralt and Yennefer returned at 12 and a half pages. He turned his head in greeting, and when he looked back he got the first real look at the table in hours—it was a disaster, crumbled pieces of parchment, empty quills, and little notes strewn everywhere. Some books propped open, the pile of parchment looking more like a mountain slope, an empty glass from when he’d chugged water hours ago.

His loves were clearly a few drinks deep as they came through the door, and completely unmarred by the woes of academia. Bastards, honestly.

“Hi, hello, hope you had a good evening, I—”

“Come to bed,” Yennefer said, suddenly right behind him. Two small but firm hands came to his shoulders, rubbing deeply.

“Ah! Oh, fuck—oh, yes, darling, right there—”

Geralt came to his other side, tipping his head up for a kiss, which he moaned into. His witcher’s tongue was soft, pleading, tempting him—his mage’s hands pushing almost painfully against his aching muscles. He wanted to cry, it was so good. It was so different than the last… however many hours it had been that he had been sitting here. Geralt pulled away, and Yennefer’s hands came to rest as well.

“So?” Geralt asked, his voice deep and velvety. “Bed?”

“I…” gods, who had he become? “I can’t. I want to, I just—”

Yennefer placed a kiss to the top of his head. “It’s fine,” she said, and he knew it was, but he hated denying them something they all wanted. “Have you eaten?”

Jaskier frowned. “Fuck. Not really.”

Geralt sighed and went to the pantry. “You’re getting a sandwich,” he grumbled.

“Ooo, Geralt, dear heart, would you heat it up? Use some of your,” he wiggled his fingers “your witchery magic?”

Geralt turned and glared. “You’re getting a sandwich.”

“He’s so mean to me,” Jaskier muttered to Yennefer, “I can’t believe he’s so mean to me.”

His mage snorted a laugh into his hair. “You’re really staying up all night, then?” She waved a hand and the curtains around the room swept shut, and his lantern began to burn steadily.

“Looks like it,” he sighed. Geralt retuned a moment later, plated warm sandwich and glass of water in hand.

“Fuck. Thank you.” He took it and took a bite, suddenly ravenous. He looked up at both of them, staring down in fond amusement. “Fank—” he swallowed his mouthful of sandwich. “Thank you both, truly. I’ll be up a bit. If you need something, call, yes?”

They rolled their eyes. “He tells us to call if we need anything,” Yennefer muttered. “Don’t get into any trouble,” she said, and with a peck on the cheek from both of them, they disappeared into the bedroom.

He looked back at his work.

Okay. 12 ½ pages in. He could do this.

x

At 15 pages, he felt ravenous again, and made a second sandwich. Not as good as Geralt’s. Geralt’s sandwiches weren’t even that good, but they were made by Geralt, which added a certain kick, a novelty he adored.

He drank another glass of water and shook his head. Back to work.

At 17 pages, sometimes the world swam before him. He gripped the edge of the table. Fuck.

He was so tired. 23 pages. He kept writing.

It was terrible. The whole paper was a mess. Nothing made sense and people were going to laugh at him. 25 pages.

He heard a sound. Was that Geralt rising for the bathroom? Was it an intruder? Light crept in through the window. 27 pages.

There was a ringing in his ear. His writing was getting increasingly larger. 27 ½ pages.

Geralt gave him a soft nuzzle to the top of his head before padding through to the kitchen. Jaskier’s heart ached. His bones ached. Writing was hard but right then it felt impossible. 27 ¾ pages.

Geralt lingered, and Jaskier felt his nose twitch. He tapped his foot impatiently, waiting for him to leave. He couldn’t have any distractions right now. He shut his eyes tight until he heard the bedroom door close once more.

Yennefer entered hours later, sweeping the curtains over with a flick of her hand. Bright light flooded the room, painting the desk in all its full, disgustingly messy glory. “Well—”

“Could you ask next time?!” Jaskier snapped. “Some of us need consistency to concentrate!”

Yennefer raised an eyebrow, and they stared at each other. Some part of him wanted to slap himself but the rest was just so irritated. Who’d she think she was, anyway?

After a moment, the mage turned and left with a flick of her hand to sweep the curtains shut again.

“Headed out,” Geralt said at 30 pages. “Contract.”

“Good,” Jaskier muttered. “I mean. Good that you’re—fuck. Whatever.”

Geralt stared. “You need rest. It’s been more than 24 hours.”

“I need to fucking finish.”

“Yen said—”

“I’m sure she did,” Jaskier muttered, driving his heels into his eyes. Gods, his eyes burned. Silence hung.

“She portaled out this morning.”

Jaskier rolled his eyes. “Great. Love that. I’m a fucking disaster, thank you for the reminder, Geralt.” He waved toward the door. “Don’t you have a contract?”

He turned back to his papers, shifting around to look for page 11, and didn’t think about how long it took before Geralt left the apartment.

His hand was shaking but he was at 34 pages. He still had so much to say. Fuck. But he was in it now.

He scarfed down some soup that was mostly broth at some point, and he’d under-salted it, but it was something. His eyes kept going blurry; traitorous things.

The bear on his mug was plotting his downfall.

38 pages and Jaskier felt like the gods themselves had gifted him with the knowledge he now bestowed onto meager commoners. He was a genius.

At 43 pages, he had stopped to lay out the entire essay on the ground, so he could see it all. The words sometimes swam before him, and he had trouble remembering what he was meant to say next. Once, he looked up, confused as to where he was. And then, at 44 pages, the guilt of snapping at his dearest loves, the weight of this behemoth paper he wasn’t even sure he could finish, and his own self-doubt crept in and seized him up, leaving him breathless and in tears for… awhile. Everything hurt. He had to keep going.

At 48 pages, he saw a griffon fly through his window, and he named it Kalvin. He turned whatever color Jaskier wanted him to turn, which was very considerate of him. Kalvin was his only friend now, and with a little convincing, might become his editor, too.

At 55 pages his chest seized, and it was hard to breathe for a moment. He closed his eyes but—no, no, couldn’t do that. If he fell asleep now, he’d never finish in time. He tried to relax, got some water, leaned against the counter. Everything was a mess.

He sat back on the floor, his work around him. Keep going.

“I don’t think there’s anything about anything that I have to be doing right now. Kalvin, you’ve… you’ve got to understand, this could be my finest work! It’s good. It’s pretty good here in… in this part, here. In that other part it’s just okay, but that’s why you come in with your big claws and you’re gonna. Rip up the bad parts. Don’t rip up the good parts. Right? Yeah. Do you think they’ve forgotten about me by now?”

He looked down. 57 pages. Took a long blink.

“Yeah,” he said softly, “That’s fair.

He had to write two extra pages so that he could skirt around referencing Valdo Marx’s work as anything other than a contradictory point. Maybe it would have been fun to use his own writing against him but he didn’t want to give the satisfaction of being referenced positively in a centerfold piece.

He lost the essay.

“Fuck—oh, gods, where did—”

He turned around, looked down. Oh, there it was.

“Thank fuck.”

The curtains were still closed and the charmed lantern was still burning, but Jaskier knew it was night by the time he reached 63 pages and Geralt came in.

Jaskier looked up from his spot kneeling on the floor. Geralt looked fine. He was a little dirty. There were some gushy bits. Probably blood. He was tired. Or just mad. Maybe he hated Jaskier.

“You’re still—?!” Geralt asked, looking at Jaskier like he’d just said a griffon named Kalvin had flown in the window earlier and now they were friends.

“I met a griffon,” Jaskier heard himself say. Geralt stared. “We’re friends now.”

“…You need to fucking sleep.”

“No.” Jaskier went back to the margin he’d devoted to drawing circles in. “Sorry ‘bout earlier.”

Geralt sighed. He might have talked but Jaskier didn’t hear, just kept writing.

“How often has that been happening?” he heard Geralt ask.

“What happening?”

“Where you fall asleep for a moment.”

“I haven’t! Fallen asleep.”

“Fuck,” Geralt said. He looked very nice, except for the goop all over him. Well. Even that wasn’t so bad, when the underneath bits were Geralt. His Geralt. Looked so warm, so strong, so able to carry him.

“Later,” Jaskier replied, and went back to his words. The familiar pop of a portal sounded in the bedroom. Their eyes lingered on the direction it came from, but Yennefer didn’t open the door. They looked at each other, and then back at the door which remained very much shut. “She’s mad.”

“Yep.”

“At me.”

“Yep.”

There was a pause. “Are you covered in blood?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Oh.”

“Not mine.”

“That,” he said pointing to the Witcher, “is good.”

“Mmm.”

“Sticky though.”

“Definitely sticky.”

Yennefer came out of the doorway, and Jaskier blinked. When he opened his eyes again she was much closer than she’d been and was in the middle of talking. Magic, he assumed.

“—yourself very lucky, bard.”

“Yeahh,” he said. “Sorry. ‘Bout… Sorry.”

She huffed and crossed her arms. There was a look in her face. Eyes? And her mouth. It was hard to name. Words were hard, when they weren’t the words he desperately needed to write.

“—for a while,” Geralt was saying. “Jaskier. How close are you to finishing.”

“Soon!” Jaskier said. “Soon! Soon. Due… 1pm tomorrow. What time is it?”

“10pm.”

“Fuck. Psshhh. I can… I can do it.” He looked up at Yennefer. “Sorry. Really. I… I’m just tired,” he admitted. “Shouldn’t have snapped. Not fair to you.”

Yennefer stood there, arms folded, emanating some emotion Jaskier had lost the concept of around page 41. Geralt walked further into the apartment, into the bedroom. Oh right. Blood armor. Ick.

He went back to writing and tried to ignore the desire to cry again, and then suddenly Yennefer’s shoes were in his line of vision.

“Let me read it,” she said.

“Oh.”

They stared at one another. She had such a pretty face. He might have been smiling. She rolled her eyes and then came to sit next to him. She quickly found the first page and began.

Halfway through it, he spilled ink on the bottom half of page 64, and wept. Yennefer gave him an attempt at a comforting pat on the back.

Yennefer had read the pages and risen; “It’s good. You need edits, but it’s somehow decent. Good. Whatever. A little… loose, toward the end, though,” made herself a cup of tea, and entered the bedroom.

Either a few moments, or 20 minutes later, Geralt emerged.

“What are you at now?”

“69 pages.”

“Nice,” Geralt said.

“Ha. Yeahhh,” Jaskier agreed.

“That’s not what I—” Geralt sighed the sigh that meant his face was going all pinch-y. “Close to the end?”

“Mmm. What is the end, really?” Geralt made a different pinch-y face. “Soon.”

“Come to bed tonight, Jaskier.”

“I’ll try,” he said. He blinked, and Geralt was gone.

There are a lot of words in an essay that are very hard to spell.

Jaskier ate the rest of a loaf of bread.

For a while, he swore he walked the streets of Oxenfurt while still warm in his professorial housing.

Kalvin’s accent changed three times and at one point he was on fire.

85 pages.

Geralt woke first, as always; There he was! That was his love. So much of his heart.

With shaking hands, Jaskier had brought himself up to sit in his chair, and sat staring down at his work. He looked up at Geralt with a lopsided grin. “I did it,” he said weakly.

“Need help putting it together?”

The tears fell so quickly he didn’t realize it was happening. “Really?”

Geralt sighed softly and knelt down, organizing the papers.

Yennefer emerged a bit later—There she was! His love, a chunk of him was hers entirely. He smiled. “Look!”

“Mmm. And now you can sleep.”

“NO!” Jaskier cried and leapt to his feet, “No, no, now… now is presenting time. To… the editors. Not Kalvin. But I turn it in… and then sleep,”

He had a sudden burst of energy, and tried to step over Geralt and the papers, but fell into the table instead, before the Witcher steadied him from below.

“Ohhhh, thank you dear. It’s time for… presentation! Mm.” He leaned into Yennefer’s warmth at his side, though she did not wrap her arms around him as he’d hoped. “Help me pick out an outfit.”

He blinked. Yennefer was in front of him now, looking at him with a frown, her hands around his waist. Geralt’s hand was against his forehead. “No! Stop that! I’m fine. I’m fine! See me! Fine. It’s action time. Let’s go!” and he marched off to the bedroom.

The floor was suddenly very close to his face.

“Did I—”

“You fell on your face.”

“Have I—”

“You’ve asked three times now, yes.”

There should have been fanfare when he turned it in, but there was only the grateful smile of Edmond, the young new assistant, a firm handshake, and a promise he’d hear back from them very soon, for a quick summarization of their initial thoughts. Or, he’d used all those words, Jaskier forgot which order they’d come in.

The three returned to the apartment, and everything happened very slowly and so quickly he found it hard to keep track. There was definitely a bath drawn for him—gods, it had been days, hadn’t it— oh, fuck, he was gross, wasn’t he—a full meal, and a celebratory drink. He’d made a few good jokes, and all he could see were Geralt and Yennefer, smiling at him. An empty glass. A bar of soap. A long quill. A messy table. A pile of books and an empty mug. They deposited him on the bed for sleep, and left together.

Jaskier lay there, waiting for sleep to take him.

It did not.

He was so tired he could cry. He did, a few times. He couldn’t think straight. All of it, everything, hurt. His body ached. He tried to soothe himself down alone, rocking himself in the hopes it would work. But nothing.

What if he could never sleep again? What if he would always be awake, forever? What if this was how he died?! Oh gods, he didn’t want to die! He still had edits to approve!

Eventually, he could feel himself getting closer. He adjusted himself, lay on his back and took deep, measured breaths, kept his eyes closed but relaxed. Okay. Okay. Sleep.

He was falling, so violently and so fast that when he jolted awake, he forgot he’d been lying on a bed in the first place.

Fuck.

He tried again. It happened sometimes, it was fine. He’d be fine.

He tried breathing deeply once more, trying to let the distant scents of Yennefer and Geralt now embedded in his pillows overtake him.

A fear so powerful it gripped his heart and twisted, whispered to him, ‘this is what dying is, you’re going to die’ and he once again jolted awake. He threw his head back against the pillow and winced; even that hurt.

Fuck. Fuck.

He kept trying. Over, and over, he’d get so close to sleep and then right at the precipice, something would yank him out of it.

Once, he saw Yennefer falling off a cliff. Another time, he saw Geralt stabbed through the chest. At some point, he saw Ciri screaming, and his hands flew out to pull her close, only to find nothing there. Sometimes it was himself falling, and sometimes it was the world below him falling instead.

He’d really done it this time. Stayed awake so long, sleep had abandoned him entirely.

It felt like twelve years before Yennefer and Geralt returned, slipping into the room quietly. He sat up in bed, startling them both.

“Please,” he said quietly, “I can’t. I don’t know why I can’t I just—I can’t. My body won’t let me, I want to but I can’t—”

“How the hell—” Yennefer started, walking over to him with a palm out to check for a curse, maybe? It didn’t matter. He wrapped her hand in his and clutched it to himself, desperate for her. She was so warm. So alive.

“Fuck,” Geralt sighed, “It’s been nearly 70 hours already, Jaskier.”

“Let me just put him down with magic,” Yennefer started, but Geralt put a hand up.

“We can’t. It’s a temporary fix. if he can’t fall asleep on his own without magic, it’ll get harder and harder for him. We need to get him to fall asleep without it.” They looked down at him. What a disgrace he must look like, how pathetic he was. He turned his face away in abject shame. He couldn’t even fall asleep right.

While he looked away, Yennefer tore her hand from his as she and Geralt discarded their clothes into heaps beside the bed, crawled beneath the covers on either side of Jaskier. They hated him. They must. How could they not?

“It’s fine, you don’t—fuck, sorry—”

Geralt shrugged. “Don’t be. I know how bad it gets. It’s different for a Witcher, but no sleep is the whole reason we met Yennefer.”

“Oh, yeah,” Jaskier said softly.

“As I recall, the solution then was to have vigorous sex on the floor.” Yennefer ran a finger along Jaskier’s chest. “Sound appealing?”

“I—yes, Yennefer, it sounds appealing.” He fidgeted, tried to focus on the feeling of Yennefer’s delicate touch. He was oversensitive enough that it felt like fire, but nothing… stirred, and each word he spoke felt like he was pulling honey from his tongue. “I don’t… much as I’d like, I’m not sure I’d be... up for it right now.” Yennefer’s head fell against the pillow and she flattened her hand, ran the palm up his chest to rest above his heart. Pressed a kiss there.

He closed his eyes and tried to breathe deeply, but they were looking at him, he could feel every inch of their gazes and it was all too much. He whined in agony. “I can’t do this. Fuck. I can’t, just put me out. We try it again tomorrow, I—”

“Jaskier. You can. Tell us what you need and we can help you,” Yennefer said, sweet but firm. And that was her, wasn’t it?

He couldn’t think. Wanted to. Wanted so much. Wanted to be asleep.

Jaskier curled up on his side, exhausted of being exhausted, when he felt Geralt slide up closer behind him. “Can I hold you?” he murmured into the bard’s shoulder. Jaskier nodded, and felt Geralt’s arm come around him and under his own arm, felt it slide up his chest and cross it protectively.

“Feel good?” Jaskier nodded, and then cracked his eyes open, met Yennefer’s, concern palpable.

He lifted one arm just slightly. “C’mere?” And she did, curled into his arms and around him, tucked her head under his, kissed the top of Geralt’s fingers. He held her close, and was held by the two in turn. Breathing, somehow, felt easier between them.

“Breathe, bard,” Yennefer urged him softly. Geralt buried his nose in Jaskier’s hair, took in a deep breath, and Jaskier tried to follow.

They breathed softly, all together, slow and safe. Soon, he was drifting into sweet oblivion.

‘You,’ Fear said, wrapped around his sternum, ‘will crumble, the moment you let go of wakefulness.’ It gripped him, and tugged him back to reality.

He jolted again. “Fuck, dammit, cock wringing—”

Yennefer pulled back to look at him worriedly. “Is that what’s been keeping you up?” she asked.

“It’s, I don’t know, something just pulls me back, I try to fight it but…”

“Mmm,” Geralt agreed. “Sleep starts. Happens sometimes.”

“The hell are sleep starts?”

“They’re… when you’re too on edge to sleep, or just haven’t in too long, brains… fizzle. Keep you awake. It’s a survival instinct—it makes you think you’ve got to stay awake to stay alive. Feels like falling? Or… a shock. Sometimes other things. Hallucinations.” Geralt pressed a kiss to the back of his head. “It’s scary. It’s meant to be. Your body thinks it’s fighting for its life.”

“I am never letting you doom yourself like this ever again,” Yennefer said, and while it was probably meant to come out angry, she just sounded worried.

Geralt hummed and agreement. “Try again, we’ve got you. We’re not letting go.” Jaskier took a breath. They had him. They had him.

Yennefer lifted a hand to Jaskier’s temple. “May I?” And he let her in, easier than breathing. She gave him Ciri laughing, wind chimes on the breeze, the soft roar of the coast. Geralt hugged him tight, ran his other hand through Jaskier’s hair, tried to keep the bard’s breathing aligned. Now, what had he ever done to earn these two?

Soon, sleep came to him again, and he could feel Yennefer ready to soothe anything that came for him in his mind, Geralt ready to defend against anything that dared hurt his resting body. The darkness crept in, and he felt peace.

Geralt was reaching for him, falling, bleeding, screaming.

“FUCK!”

“Shh,” the real Geralt hushed him. “We’ve got you.”

“Fuck, there’s got to be something else,” Yennefer groaned. “What’ve you tried so far?”

“I have tried… to fall asleep.”

Yennefer and Geralt both huffed small laughs. “No. Positions—”

“Only the good ones.”

“Meditating?” Geralt asked.

“Darling, I haven’t had a thought in my head in hours. This is meditation.”

“Drugs?” Yennefer asked.

“I will try the drugs!” Jaskier said with a drowsy cheerfulness, as Geralt replied “No drugs. No.”

“Ugh,” Jaskier groaned, and shifted to lie on his stomach. Oh. This was… better. He nestled into the pillows, and a soft contented sigh drifted from him.

“That feel better?” Geralt asked as he ran a hand up and down Jaskier’s back. “Mmm,” Jaskier replied. Yennefer’s hand joined Geralt over his chest. Oh, they were going to make him cry.

And then it was too much, too much feeling, like his brain couldn’t handle all the sensation, and he felt Yennefer come to pause, and a moment later, Geralt’s hand as well. ‘That better?’ Yennefer asked in his mind. Jaskier gave her the memory of his favorite hug with her, warm and happy as her legs wrapped around his waist, and his favorite with Geralt, crushing and firm and full of too many emotions to speak aloud.

“Could…” he said softly, “Just. Talk? Not to me. Just… to each other. Just wanna hear you.” He could almost hear their smiles, and felt as they settled in on the pillows beside him, arms and hands intertwining on his back. Yennefer’s head on his shoulder, the gentle planes of Geralt’s chest on his other side. “If you need us, Yennefer and I are here. We’ve got you. You’re safe.”

He nodded into the mattress, cool and soft below him.

“Goodnight, Jaskier.”

“G’night Yennefer.”

“Goodnight, Jaskier.”

"G’night, Geralt.”

He started to fade into oblivion, but stopped himself before he got too far. Not fear, not anxiety, a conscious stopping. Somewhere above him, Geralt was telling Yennefer about the contract from… sometime in the past few days, and Yennefer was telling her own story about some town gossip with a woman and her hens, which, it might have been a metaphor, but he’d basically forgotten what those were by now. He breathed deeply, felt their words flow through him, and when he felt brave enough, he let go, trusting they would catch him.

He could have sworn he heard wind chimes, somewhere.

x

The small amount of light filtering in through the curtains was golden when he awoke. His head both ached and felt light as a feather, his muscles screamed and cried but half of it was in relief. He gave a small stretch and yawned. “G’morning,” an amused Geralt said to him, lounging in a chair he’d brought beside the bed, reading a book. His legs were propped up on the bed beside the bard’s and Jaskier stretched to bump their toes together.

“What time…?”

“You slept 13 hours.”

“Fuck.”

“You probably need more.”

“Yeahhhh.”

“Feel alright?”

“Like a real human being,” he said. “Hungry, though.”

“Mmm.”

Yennefer slipped in the door, but, noticing Jaskier was awake, rose a hand. “May I?” she asked, voice dripping in sarcasm, gesturing to the curtains.

“You may,” Jaskier offered, covering his face with his hands. “Ohhhh, gods, how bad was I?”

“Genuinely awful,” Yennefer said, as Geralt was saying, “There’s been worse.”

“Normally I’d withhold this,” the mage said, withdrawing a small envelope from her pocket. “But, under the circumstances…” she cleared her throat.

“To one Julian Alfred Pankratz. We were extremely pleased to receive your manuscript yesterday afternoon. Our editors are will have their notes to you by the weekend, but we wanted to reach out and extend our most sincere compliments on your work. It is—oh, a flood of adjectives, I’m skipping these. Etcetera, etcetera, sucking your dick, etcetera alright, here—and meticulous in construction. We can tell,” Yennefer said, dragging out the final sentence, “you made good use of your year of writing time to complete the work.” Jaskier and Geralt by this point were holding back true howls of laughter.

“And won’t you believe it, there’s more. Ahem; we have a number of suggestions and questions already, but encourage you to get your well-deserved rest as we prepare our feedback. We are grateful to work with you, and thank you again for your stunning entry. There’s a postscript,” Yennefer added. “As a quick and personal note, we cannot have helped but notice the nature of your penmanship; we mean no offence, but would encourage you to see a doctor of the eye to fit you with some spectacles.”

“My—my penman…? What’d—” and Yennefer, who had clearly been waiting for this moment, brought out a rather crumpled piece of parchment with an ink stain at the bottom—ah, yes, the original page 64— and showed it to him. His eyes were… gods, they were aching, but he was clear minded enough now to see that each line had become at least twice it’s normal size. The lines were far from straight, dipping and bending toward the edge of the paper, the letters changed directions at random points, and a fair amount of the words were smudged so completely they were hard to make out.”

Jaskier stared in horror.

“They. Is that. Is that what it looked like? Really?”

“It’s worse than most of the ones that made it in,” Geralt said, carefully.

“Most?!”

“You drew pictures on one of them,” Yennefer said.

“Oh my god. They…they must…”

“Adore it, clearly,” Yennefer said, setting aside the paper. “It wasn’t worth the strain, and you’ve definitely firmly embarrassed yourself, but they’re either embarrassing themselves by fawning praise on you,” she said, sliding onto the bed, “Or you’re actually just… very knowledgeable and talented, even when addled by sleep deprivation.”

There was a pause, Jaskier soaking this in; it hadn’t been worth it, exactly, but it wasn’t all bad. In fact, it was quite good, and Yennefer was complimenting him outright, so, very good.

“Or both,” Geralt added.

“Definitely both,” Yennefer agreed.

Jaskier groaned. “You can’t be mean to me. You’re in my house and I am extremely tired, which means that you, by law, must kiss me and tell me nice things about myself.”

Geralt laughed, light and free, and Yennefer slunk slower down into the bed. “You get no kisses,” she said, “You get sleep and rest.” She grabbed a pillow from under her head and plopped it delicately onto Jaskier’s face.

“Boo,” Jaskier said, muffled beneath the thing. He closed his eyes. Geralt muttered something, and Yennefer gave a snort of laughter, and then there was silence.

“Are you two kissing up there?!”

More silence.

“UGH,” he groaned, and sunk into his soft, sweet mattress. Oh, beautiful mattress. How he adored it, how he adored his two loves on top of it. He listened to their kissing, soft, and sweet, and knew he’d join them soon. But it was so warm down here. Even as one of them removed the pillow, he could only bring himself to open his eyes for a moment, to see them both leaning to kiss his face gently, before returning to each other. He took a long, deep breath, and listened to them swirl around him, until all he could feel was their love and the sweet caress of his pillow.

[wreckofawriter]

I Kissed You Dumbass

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x reader

Word Count: 2,364

Warnings: Swearing, kissing? Fluff

Request: @slytherinwriter618 Draco Malfoy oneshot where the reader and Draco are flirty frienemies. They like to annoy each other and one day they fight and annoy each other till one of them kisses the other, showing their feelings? You can add onto it if you want.

A/n: I AM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG. I have had so little motovationto write recently, I don't know what's up with me, I am working on the other requests I've gotten, I am so sorry once again

You fiddled with the quill that occupied your hand, its sharp point still not dipping into the rich ink which stood beside you as your fingers pinched its shafted before raising upwards the soft bristles moving in their wake. You puffed your cheeks with air before realizing a breath, your upper lip fluttering slightly. Your eyes locked on nothing in particular as your mind wandered around you, empty thoughts you never quite grasped. 

Your chair suddenly dislodged from its position, jerking forwards unnaturally and pulling you from your peaceful daze.

You turned, a glare taking your features as slight irritation found you.  You were met with a suggestive smirk, one you would usually willingly return.

“Yes, Draco?” You drawled voice barely above a whisper as you questioned his actions. 

His grin widened and he shrugged, “I just thought I would entertain you, you looked bored.” 

You felt your heart pinch before your own lips tilted upwards, “I don’t know how happy Moody would be about that.” You replied quietly nodding your head in the direction of the professor who continued to drawl about his most recent mind-numbing subjects. 

Draco scoffed, “Like that old bag could do anything to us.”  

“Last time I checked he turned you into a ferret and stuck you down Crabbe’s pants.” You giggled, the moment fond in your memory. 

Draco’s cheeks grew red at the comment his brows furrowing, “That was not funny.” he grumbled. 

“You’re right Draco,” you beamed, “It was hilarious” another short wave of laughter left your lips as his eyes narrowed. 

He then sat back in his chair no longer leaning forward to continue the conversation. His bottom lip jutted out in a soft pout as he avoided your gaze. 

You resisted the urge to coo, he looked simply adorable. Instead, you rolled your eyes a soft smile still playing on your lips, “You looked quite cute as a ferret,” you murmured, “almost as adorable as you do now.” and although you couldn’t see him you could feel him perk up a bit at your comment. 

He leaned forward, “Never as cute as you are darling.” he mumbled into your ear.

You snorted softly ignoring the wings that emerged in your stomach, “You’re such a dork.” 

He sat back into his seat at this point his eyes still lingering on your form as you attempted to cool your heated cheeks. 

Draco waited for you by the door of the classroom as you gathered your things, he leaned against the wall watching as other classmates passed by him. You soon walked out the same way, not stopping or even slowing for the boy as if you hadn’t seen him at all. 

He rolled his eyes, a grin playing on his lips. He pushed through a few students his feet quickening in pace until he fell into step next to you, “Are you always going to do that?”

“Do what?” You forged innocence, biting back a smile. 

“Pretend you don’t see me waiting for you, it wouldn’t hurt for you to show a bit of consideration ya’ know.” He pointed out teasingly.

“You were waiting for me?” You spoke scrunching your nose, “I didn’t notice.”

Draco only rolled his eyes again, amusement still evident in them. 

The two of you entered the grand hall and Draco was immediately swept away from you. Pansy had reached out and snatched him like the scythe of the death being brought down in one fell swoop. 

She sent you a harsh glare, her jealousy everlasting. 

You scoffed attempting to stay calm as the girl began her obnoxious show of affection. You started to lose your cool as she pet his shoulder but before any action could be taken you heard your name echo through the hall. 

You turned and met the eyes of Michael Corner. 

"Hey Corner, what's up?" You asked, thankful for the distraction. 

He smiled sheepishly, "I was just wondering if you could help me and a few others with some potions, we have a test coming up and we're kinda lost." 

You grinned back, attempting to ignore the shrieking laughter behind you, "Sure.”

“Cool! We’re in the library.” 

With that, you turned on your heel exhaling a breath you didn’t realize you were holding when you finally left the stifling air of the hall. 

Corner was just behind you, smirking a bit. 

"What?" You asked, questioning his strange gaze. 

"Nothing." He responded his lips on turning more devilishly. 

"Lair." You mumbled shaking your head. 

You entered the library and were brought over to a table where a few other Ravenclaws were seated, Luna Lovegood and Cho Chang amongst them.

You suddenly felt a bit uncomfortable, their glares seeming to price through you. You had never personally taken stance on the bullying you were sure some of them experienced, but you did in fact hang out with many of the people who initiated it.

You took a seat next to Michael and Luna, feeling Cho’s eyes from across the table. 

"Oh good." A dreamy voice floated next to you, "I'm glad you could come y/n, we are a bit stuck on the wolfsbane potion." 

You turned to meet her soft smile showing nothing but purity and your confidence was restored. 

You slowly began to work through some of the material, but the group caught on quickly and soon you were simply working on your own essays. You became engrossed with your transfiguration notes quickly. You jumped slightly at a sudden pressure on your shoulder, hands snaking around your waist. 

You turned to see a pair of icy eyes glaring at the blue-clad students across the table. Draco had his head rested on your shoulder, his mouth in a slight pout. 

“Why did you leave me?” he mumbled into your ear. 

You fought a terrible blush, flicking him in the forehead and removing his arms from your waist, “Perksonions voice makes my head hurt.” You scoffed ignoring the looks you got from those around you, a soft chuckle coming from Michael.

Dracos smile widened, “Were you jealous y/n/n?” he taunted. 

You scoffed again, “In your dreams Malfoy.” 

“I do dream of you.” He mumbled this time just loud enough for you to hear. 

You flushed heavily before giggling, “Of course you do Draco, we’ve all had nightmares before.” 

He rolled his eyes, “Can you please come back and eat wit us, Pansy is driving me insane and I think Balise was considering murder.” 

“Nope.” The p popped lightly on your lips, “You dug your grave with that girl, lay in it.” 

“But y/n!” He whined pouting. 

You only smirked back, “Bye, bye Draco, we clearly don’t want you here.” you gestured to the glares around you. 

“Fine.” He huffed his bottom lip still jutted out as he turned on his heel and walked away. 

You turned back to the group of Ravenclaws apologizing and beginning to work again. 

“You have quite an effect on him,” Luna spoke her voice foggy as ever.

“What?” you asked tilting your head.

“I’ve never seen him act so kindly.” She shrugged, “He’s softer around you.” 

You scoffed, “That’s nice?” 

“Umm yeah.” Cho spoke both of her eyebrows raise, “He was like a puppy.” 

You felt your cheeks heat a bit, “It’s not important.” You shook your head.

“He so likes you.” She mumbled quietly, you pretend not to hear.

You took a seat in divination, the heavy smell of herbs and tea making you crinkle your nose. You set your bag down with a thump next to the cushioned chair you were seated in. You sunk your head onto your folded arms embracing the darkness like an old friend, exhaustion weighing you down. 

You raised your head feeling a tap on your shoulder. You were met with a gleaming smile.

“Is this seat taken?” Draco asked gesturing to the one next to you.

“Yes.” You responded by letting your head drop. 

Draco frowned before a smirk took his features, “Come on, princesses I know you missed me but I’m here now.”

“Fuck off Malfoy, I’m not into the mood today.” You sneered.

He drew in a hiss, “Somebody moody.” 

“I got like three hours of sleep last night finishing Snape’s fucking essay.” You explained, head still buried in your arms. 

“Why didn’t you start it sooner? We got it like a week ago.” He asked to take a seat next to you. 

“Fuck you, I only remembered it last night.” You grumbled 

“Well, I would have helped you if you asked.” He shrugged.

You raised your head resting your cheek on your hand, “You are never any help, all you ever do is distract me.” 

“Are you saying I’m distracting?” Draco smirked proudly.

“Yes, I am considering that idiocy distracts me greatly” You shot back at him before feeling your mouth open in a large yawn. 

Draco rolled his eyes again, grin faltering. Professor Trelawney entered the room and began her dramatic show of a class as your eyelids gained weight. 

Draco slowly began to move his chair closer and closer to you until he was directly next to you. 

He leaned over you “Lay your head on my lap.” He whispered causing you to snap from your half-asleep daze. 

“Ummm what?” you respond, confusion etched onto your face. 

“Lay your head on my lap and you can sleep, that way the old bat won’t notice either,” Draco spoke matter-of-factly despite a tinge of color on his cheeks. 

You considered turning his offer down but your need for sleep overpowered embarrassment, plus the fact that the room was ridiculously warm and it looked really dark under the table caused you to gave in. 

“Alright.” You sighed leaning over and placing your head onto his thighs, your eyes soon fluttering shut. 

Draco stared down at you as you quickly fell asleep, his heart was pounding wildly and he felt slightly sick. He took in a deep breath and attempted to focus on the lesson, the weight of your head making it impossible. 

 

Dinner rolled around slowly and when it finally arrived you consider skipping to simply go to bed. You eventually decided against it and forced yourself to the meal. 

You took a seat next to Draco, it had seemed that neither of you had gotten over you sleeping on him and the air felt a bit too thick. 

You managed to keep a light conversation but part of you still remembered how good he had smelled; like mint and expensive cologne. The boy next to your let his mind wandered to the texture of your hair and the light weight of your head. It soon fell silent, chatter continuing loudly around you. Finally, Blaise spoke up.

“Jesus, you could cut the sexual tension between you two with a knife.” He spoke rolling his eyes. 

You immediately flushed choking on the pumpkin juice you had brought to your lips.

“Shut up Blaise,” Draco hissed his voice accompanied with a dark glare.

“Seriously Draco, this is ridiculous,” He scoffed, “Can you guys just fuck already?” 

You let out a loud laugh smirking wildly, “He wishes.” You giggled despite color quickly traveling up your neck. 

Dracos ears flushed pink but he simply sneered, “Yeah right.” 

Dinner continued Blaise still grumbling as you and Draco stole glances at each other. 

You yawned loudly again water climbing to your eyes. Draco glanced at you a bit concerned. 

“You wanna go back to the common room?” He asked.

You nodded finishing your drink, Draco grabbed your bag for you and swung it over his shoulder before extending a hand for you to grab. 

He helped pull you up before the two of you headed from the hall. 

You broke the silence quite quickly, “I think you need to work out more Malfoy.” You stated.

“What?” Draco asked clearly offended. 

“I'm just saying your thighs were way too comfortable.” You shrugged playfully.

“Are you calling me fat?” He gasped in a partially mock offense. 

“No, I'm calling your thighs fat.” You smiled.

“So rude.” He grinned back “I bet you would love to do more than lie on my thighs.” He smirked. 

Your mouth dropped eyes widened, “I can't believe you just said that!” You burst out laughing. 

Draco only shrugged, “Blaise said it himself you would totally fuck me.” 

“Oh, Merlin you are full of yourself.” You scoffed biting back a smile. “Please Draco don’t break your back sucking your own dick.” 

He contorted his face in disgust, “You are so crude.”

“How am I the crude one when you just said that I would totally fuck you?” You questioned.

“Because I was speaking facts,” He spoke his chin held high, “You were simply being gross.”

“You are unbelievable.” You said rolling your eyes. 

“You would though.” He shrugged as if it was common knowledge. 

“I would so not!” You yelled. 

“Would too.”

“Would not.” 

“Would too.”

“Shut up.”

“Make me.” 

“Fine.” You turned quickly on your heel to face him shoving him harshly back so he was pressed against the wall. 

“What the hell-” 

He was cut off by you slamming your lips onto his. 

Draco's eyes widened from the sudden movement before slipping shut as he felt your tongue glide against his bottom lip. He opened his mouth and immediately began to fight you for dominance, which he lost as your hands found his hair and tugged. He moaned slightly before surrendering as his hands found your waist. You drew back with his lip caught lightly between your teeth before pulling away completely. 

Draco's eyes opened slowly, your own eyes darkened with lust, his heart thumped wildly his entire face was bright red, “Holy shit.” He whispered quietly. 

You only smirked stepping away from the boy causing him to stumble a bit. “Maybe I would fuck you.” you shrugged.

He blinked multiple times still unsure if what just happened was real. When he finally decided it was you had already begun to walk away from him.

“Hey wait!” He yelled jogging toward you, “What the hell was that?” He asked when he reached you.

“I kissed you dumbass.” You scoffed, “Now come on I’m exhausted.”

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