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sillygooseuniversity11 · 7 days

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Universal Events: 10 Boys, One Crown, One Down

CHAPTER ONE: YOUNGEST 9

Prologue

Chapter 2

TW(FOR THE ENTIRE BOOK): (Violent) Death, intense gore, depression, slight ableism (SOMETIMES)Keep reading

NNAMDI'S PERSPECTIVE

For as long as I could remember, I'd never gotten a full night's rest. Just because my room was situated above all of my brothers' rooms didn't mean anything was quiet, ever. There was always some sort of activity happening somewhere in the castle, and all eight of my brothers' rooms weren't an exception, far from it. Even if by some chance all fell silent, I wouldn't be able to get a wink of sleep for fear of something being wrong.

But on this fateful day, The Fifth Youngest of The Loshi-Loshaj sons, Devlin, had decided that 8AM was the perfect time to crank up the amplifier and see if he could wake up everyone above him in the 10-story building with his electric guitar, scraping his pick up and down the ridged strings before ripping it up and down the strings to the melody of the same songs all of us knew by heart by now because of how much he played them. Once Devlin was locked onto a song he liked and knew how to play it on his guitar, the music wouldn't ever stop. Before where the chorus would have been in the song Devlin was playing—a loud grunge song with chords that seemed to change every three seconds and riffs I couldn't imagine playing, even if he claimed they were easy— I could already hear a chorus of 7 voices spitting different demands, even someone— or multiple someones—stomping aggressively on the floor. I gave up resisting and felt around for my phone on my beside table, knocking a few things onto the ground and swearing before I felt the cold, cracked screen of my phone and grabbed it. I dragged my hand to my face and fumbled with the passcode before texting the group-chat. The clicking sound of my keypad barely audible above the yelling, stomping, and the now halted guitar.

Nnamdi: 'Hey can you guys shut up'

Rio: 'Sorry :('

Devlin: 'K'

Dharma: 'Alr'

Chancey: 'yeah DEVLIN'

Devlin: 'SHUT'

Devlin: 'I will send THE chicken ur way i swearrr'

Chancey: 'Which one lol'

Kaede: 'ooooh'

I silenced my phone before a round of offensive banter began in the group-chat and planted my face back into my pillow with a sigh as the noise in the house ceased to its usual morning bustle. At that point, I was too awake to go back to sleep. I rolled over and rubbed my eyes as I tried to adjust to the sudden burst of light from my phone and the window as I stood up and steadied myself. I could tell no one else was able to fall asleep after what just happened, I could hear everyone else below me stirring and beginning their day as well.

I was never sad or angry at my family, I loved them dearly in fact—down to Sir Burnt Toast—so much so I dreaded a sliver of a thought of their deaths crossing my mind, even if it were of old age after a long, fulfilling life. I was content. Content with my family. I wasn't a smiley person, not a frowning person. Just a content guy with a content face and a big family, and I was ok with that.

Another thing I've never had— and never had a problem with— was a full dining table. Someone— if not multiple or everyone— was missing from a seat, and it was too awkward to sit alone with my dad when he was here, so I usually walked back upstairs to my room with my usual plate of the same food fitting my persnickety tastes. I didn't consider myself a loner despite being the obvious odd one out from the rest of the family. I often find myself wondering if everything would be better if I had even a bit of magic, even if it were something useless. I'd read books about people who didn't have magic, but they were scarce and poorly written by authors with magic. I've long since accepted it, but sometimes it did send a pang of sadness through my heart and a lump rising in my throat like fresh dough ready to be cooked.

Before I could finish my thought, a chicken— formally dubbed Sir Burnt Toast by Devlin, Chancey later convinced him to add the 'Sir' part— pranced down the hallway, her claws making the tiniest clicking sound on the marble floor. She clucked as a greeting before stopping at a trimmed bush in a white pot with teal flower details to investigate and peck at the small leaves next to the exit door to one of the many porches on the main building.

"Morning, sir." I nodded to the chicken as she wandered aimlessly around the corridor, her head twitching in every direction as if she were seeing this hallway for the first time, even though she'd walked down this hallway billions of times.

“Good morning, I guess.” Before I could turn around, I was cut off by Devlin slamming his palm on the back of my head, earning a throaty, exaggerated 'ack!' from me and sending me forward a few steps. He bent down with a hearty chuckle— trying to brush off the guilt of the fact that he sometimes forgot how strong he was and how he might've left me with a hand shaped bruise on the back of my neck— and scooped Sir Burnt Toast up and into his arms, her wings flapped for only a second before she settled into his arms as if to say, 'I know this guy, so I guess it's ok', her head still swiveling to look out of the windows and into the paintings arranged in rows on the walls. “Nerd.” Devlin added under a fake cough into his shoulder. I punched his arm in response, causing Burnt Toast to squawk and dig her nails into Devlin’s arms and chest. He winced and let her down, reaching under the sleeve of his black shirt and rubbing the white and blue marks she'd left from her claws.

"Thanks for the gift this morning. Dragging your pick thingy on your strings was the perfect way to start my morning."

"I can do it tomorrow, just for you." We both snickered at this and pushed each other lightheartedly.

I was the closest to Devlin in my family, even though we had little in common and he picked on me relentlessly. But even so, we stuck by each other like best friends— if we weren’t already.

Me and Devlin did have one thing in common: we weren’t appreciated as much as the rest of my family for our abilities—or rather a lack in abilities— by our brothers and father.

Everyone in the Loshi-Loshaj family has magic that comes in any form one way or another, except for me. One could create acid from everywhere on his body, one could create and manipulate electricity and lightning, and one could even spit fire—which was convenient for all of us, he’s an exquisite chef.

Devlin did have magic, but it’s completely useless and can't be used on command. Virtually all he could do was raise his body temperature enough to vaporize water in under a minute or so, which isn't any fun when it's 80 degrees outside and evaporated sweat stinks up the castle and everywhere else he goes. But at least he had the highest MRPB— Magic Rate Per Breath, the amount of magic let out with each breath which also determines how strong someone's magic is— at 92.32, setting him the highest on the domestic totem pole within our family, and giving him the most likely chance to be crowned next.

"It was quite lovely to wake up to... Whatever you were playing."

"They're called Pearl Jam, weirdo. A normie like you wouldn't get it." Devlin scoffs and tilts his chin up satirically.

"Aren't they, like, all dead by now?"

"They have been, unless they're immortal or something and can live for a gazillion years... Or something."

"Didn't they peak in the 1980's?" I said hesitantly, hoping I wouldn't get lectured for getting this bit of trivia wrong.

"Early 1990s." Devlin corrected without looking up, his wrist craned up so his middle finger could pet the back of Sir Burnt Toast's neck— who he'd picked up while I was trying to remember the melody of the song Devlin was playing this morning.

"Right," I said, "How'd you find out about them? It's been like..." I trailed off and pulled my phone out from my shorts pocket and opened my calculator app, punching in a few numbers. "16,975 years." I whistled and fumbled my phone back into my pocket. "How'd you even find out about those guys?" I asked with a raised brow. "I thought humans went extinct way before then."

"On some ancient website I found while scrolling on Krome looking for something to play. It's called, like, Wikipedia or something. Pearl Jam's music was hard to find on YouTube, but I've got, like, all of their songs on my playlist."

"Wikipedia." I parroted to myself and shrugged, shoving my hands in my pockets. "Sounds legit!"

"It's credible, too." Devlin said confidently. "If you were having a heart attack, I'd just ask Wikipedia for help!"

"How do you know that? We have enough money for an ambulance." I laughed at my own comment.

"Because I'm smart, and heavily educated." Devlin boasted. We both knew he was wrong. The Loshi-Loshaj brothers collectively agreed that Obi— The Second Youngest— was the one with the most passion and drive to learn everything he could. We'd often walk in on him— sometimes balanced on a step stool to reach the higher parts of the wall— doing some sort of equation on his whiteboard wall that looked like a foreign language to me. A clutter of science, math, notes about language arts and history here and there littered the wall top to bottom like shiny, colorful wallpaper.

"Says the guy who carries around his pet chicken all the time." I rub Burnt Toast's head with my fingers as the chicken clucks in response as she circles Devlin's feet. "Seriously, what is it with you and Burnt Toast?"

"That's Sir Burnt Toast to you." Devlin bumps my shoulder as the two of us exit the corridor and into the large, towering main castle space that reached high into the sky, with large gaping windows that overlooked the massive grounds of Loshaj Castle; the grass with colorful specks of flowers that Kaede tended to with nimble hands and attentive eyes, the variety of animals that roamed the soft grass Devlin spent the hours with, the huge spiraling tower that was built with Camille and his artistic skills in mind that overlooked every part of the castle— and that could hold the dozens of paintings and drawings he'd spend all night working on— the smooth, paved roads that went all around the castle grounds for Rio— and sometimes the others— to skateboard on, and the biggest library I've ever seen piled high with what could very well be every book in the world on towering bookshelves with sliding ladders attached to them, the kinds you'd see in the movies where the eccentric librarians would zip from one shelf to another without falling, and the open area decorated with everything a professor and mathematician could ever want for Obi.

The castle would never fall short of windows, like the architect had an obsession with stylized frames and panes double my height. But the largest window was a stained-glass window with our family crest on it; a long royal blue snake-like dragon spinning itself into a spiral with outstretched claws and red spikes on its back on a rainbow background of thick vibrant glass that casted a bright filter of blended colors onto the floor. The window ranked above the rest of the windows a few feet above a small yet sharply decorated plateau with a Bifurcated Staircase, that specific structure defined The Loshaj Castle and its pride as its own kingdom, pride was a huge thing in my family. We were held to higher standards than many of the other kingdoms in The Isle of Conagoda because we were the forefront of royalty, practically textbook definition. The royalty of royalties and the crested window of windows,

Everyone— by that I mean me and my brothers— called it something different: Double Pride Window, That One, The Rayquaza Window, Fancy Staircase Window, Giant-Hole-In-The-Wall, and The-Big-Rainbow-One-In-The-Main-Castle. I just called it The Window, and everyone knew what I was talking about.

I squinted and shielded my eyes with my hand as I walked under the radiant rays of the sun prismatically reflecting off of the tile floor and into my eyes until I felt the warmth leave my skin and the offensive lights ease off of my eyes as me and Devlin entered the spacious dining area: The huge kitchen connected to a booth where we'd sometimes sit to do our homework and a huge rectangular table with elegant chairs and an especially large one at the head for my dad. Zikhona was already in the kitchen, hard at work doling out meals for everyone at an almost breakneck pace while Rio sat stretched over the counter, watching with his eyes locked on a pot full of hard-boiled eggs as he waited to tell Zikhona when they were ready. It was small gestures like this that he appreciated, especially when he was as busy as he was now. A lot of pressure was on him to provide for his brothers, especially since he was the oldest of all of us.

Rio noticed us from his peripheral and glanced up for a moment, propping himself up on his elbows.

'Good morning.' He signed briefly with a small smile before turning his attention back to the boiling eggs with the same enthusiasm as before. He used both hands to pull his curly black hair out of his face in an awkward manner before tucking it behind his pointy blue ears.

'Morning.' I signed just before Rio looked back down. "Morning, Zikhona." I yawned and patted his shoulder as I walked by.

"Hey." He replied quickly, his speech stilted by his concentration as Rio alerted him, signing that the eggs were ready. There was the low hum of conversation behind the counter where Obi was reading a book thicker than his own balled fist, Camille was thumbnailing his new painting on some flashcards, Chancey was trying not to melt his fork with his acid magic, and Kaede and Dharma were debating about two of the newer artists that had risen on the charts and were neck-in-neck with each other in terms of popularity. Dharma was strongly defending a rap and pop artist while Kaede was trying to get a word in about pop-rock band. It surprised me— and most likely everyone else— to see every one of my brothers in the room at the same time, different shades of royal blue skin spread around the space.

"What's the occasion?" Dharma interjected with his usual silvery voice when his eyes landed on me and Devlin, his voice projecting through his conversation with Kaede while he was lecturing Dharma about why his defending band's music was revolutionary and was better than that of 'The Queen of Rap.'

"Dunno," Obi piped up, it was hard to hear from where he had his nose buried in his book. "Are we missing a birthday, a holiday? Or..." He trailed off, muttering a "Y'know" under his breath in a taut manner.

"No way!" This set something off in Kaede— as if he weren't already in a bad mood— and cut him off curtly. "Dad isn't even home from Greenleaf City yet, and it takes him forever to tell us who's gonna be crowned. Most of the time, it's a fake-out and he says something like, 'There's a crown for everyone!'" He grew more agitated with every word before resting his chin on the table and crossed his arms in front of him with a low growl. Dharma leaned away from him as Rio rushed over and softly patted his shoulder with caution before drawing his hands back to speak.

'Don't worry. He's just looking after us all! Plus, if you were to become king of Greenleaf, who'd take care of our gardens?' Rio signed, flinging his hands around quickly, growing almost desperate to mend the rift in the conversation with each gesture. Rio's empathy would be the death of him. When Kaede touched on this topic— or got agitated in general— it was best to back off and let him simmer down on his own.

'Whatever, just get out of here.' Kaede signed sharply, making Rio flinch slightly. I could see the harrowing regret forming in his eyes. He brushed it off, scoffing and standing up from his chair, the legs screeching on the floor as he stormed away and towards the hallway. Chancey dropped his half-melted fork on the table and blocked Kaede's path.

"Dude, you can't just walk all over people like that!" He raised his voice slightly, grabbing Kaede's shoulders to try and keep him from walking away

"Whatever." Kaede spat, jerking his elbows around to try and break free from Chancey's grip. Neither of them was willing to let the other go without a fight, even if it were mild and no one got hurt.

"No, you have to apologize for what you said to Rio," He shook Kaede a little. "It's nice!"

"Dude, seriously, let go." There was a pang of hurt in Kaede's voice as he thrashed his arms around even more.

"Are you going to fess up for your behavior?"

"Yeah, now let go!" There was an unusual desperation in his voice and a hiss from Chancey's hands.

"Why are you moving around so much—" Chancey cut himself off. He looked down at his hands and yelped as he tore them away from where his acid magic had been burning through the fabric of Kaede's shirt with a low hiss. A second or so later and it would've started to burn his skin off, but it only left two sizzling holes on his sleeves and pieces of burnt fabric on Chancey's hands. "Oh," he said quietly as the situation sunk in. "Wait—"

"Just shut up!" Kaede snapped and shoved past Chancey, making a beeline for the hallway where me and Devlin entered from. Chancey wanted to call out to him and cram endless apologies into his head, but he knew the damage was done and there wasn't anything they could do to make them stay.

Every time Kaede walked under the rainbow window, the colors would beam down on him, dampening his dark clothes vibrant hues, it'd usually be satirical to see every color of the rainbow turning black cargo pants, band tees, and layered studded belts into a statement piece— if Kaede's sense of fashion wasn't already one.

He rounded the corner, and a few seconds later, he stepped back out to cough up one last insult. "And I bet you all could find someone better at..." He shook his hands around as he tried to find the words he needed to insult—either himself— or the rest of his kin, "Watering and pruning stuff! I don't know!" I could hear the slightest shake in his voice with a rasp over it, feigning arrogance. None of us dared to comment on it.

There was a deafening silence in the room for a long while, not even the usually chatty Dharma had anything to say, he just drummed his fingers on his arm and sighed. Camille managed to ignore the entire exchange and stayed focused on his art thumbnails, but the angrier the exchange got, and the longer silence lasted, the more cryptic and sadder the thumbnails got. After he noticed this, he piled the flashcards together and shoved them in the pocket of his jacket.

"I'm going to see the view from The West Tower." He murmured in his usual, monotone voice before he himself stood up and headed for the French doors next to the kitchen that branched off to one of the many walkways that lead around the castle grounds, making a beeline for the tower where he would usually paint.

"I think The Queen herself just dropped a new song, I can't let the listening experience be delayed or something!" Dharma feigned an innocent contentment with a smile that never reached his eyes as he excused himself and slowly walked towards the hallway Kaede exited from, the rainbow-stained glass complimented his colorful outfits and ultramarine skin.

"I need to tidy the library." Obi walked out the back door and to the large building the furthest away from the castle.

"I need to let the dough rise." Zikhona sputtered and put everything in the fridge. There was no dough in sight.

Rio sped away up an L-shaped staircase to the third floor where his room was without a word or a gesture.

"I need to wash my hands." Chancey rubbed his hands together and headed for the bathroom.

"I need to, uh... Go check on the chicken— horses. The Chicken-Horses..." Devlin stuttered with an inconsistent distance between each word, still in shock at the exchange. Chancey had never actually hurt someone with his magic, even though it was destructive. He had little to no control over it, and we all knew that he'd never intentionally hurt someone with it. He practically ran away.

This left me all alone.

Sometimes it felt impossible to even think that all of us were so closely related and packed into what always felt like a castle that was too small for all of us, and how different we actually were. Sometimes it felt impossible to try and keep everyone together.

I'd never get the crown if dad said that he'd choose "The son of power and righteousness" instead of an equal opportunity for everyone.

Because at the end of the day, we're all at each other's throats.

#small artist and author #small author #authors of tumblr #authors on tumblr #authors #artists on tumblr #angst original story #artwork #sad original story #brotherhood story i guess i don't know

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abitofbrian · 11 months

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Dear Ma,

I'm writing this letter and I know for sure you'd never receive it. As we live in Asian culture, I would never have enough courage to tell you that I love you. Even if I try, I know we are both awkward facing this situation. I wish I could, but something inside me keeps me from reaching the emotional boundary. So I hold it back, bury it to the bottom of the heart

Ma, when chị hai ( my sister ) passed away, I didn't see you cry. However, I know your gut feeling, something deep down in your heart was broken into pieces. I, a 10 year old kid, was holding the strawberry cookies box (I still remember its taste) and looking at my sister's body, she was closing her eyes just as sleeping. She went through a bunch of troubles in her life, so now she deserves a rest in heaven.

Ma, when I saw they laid my sister's body into the coffin, I knew that I would never see her again. Ma, I believe you felt the same, didn't you? Although your face didn't show any mourning emotions but I know, I know you have no tears left. Because I heard your weeping every night, you tried to make no sound but it was l enough for me to hear. When I heard it, I couldn't help but try to close my eyes and fall asleep as soon as possible. I wish I could tell you something, but something inside me keeps me from reaching the emotional boudary, so I hold it back.

Ma, when I passed the graduation exam. I wished I could hug you and say thank you to what you've done to me. I remember the first day at school, a 35 years old woman riding a small blue old bike, she had a small little kid behind. That woman dropped out of school when she was a fifth grader because of poverty although she loves being a teacher. She didn't want that kid to end up like her. Therefore, she knows the only way to help that kid is Education.

Ma, this child has been growing up healthy, surrounded by happiness and grateful. He speaks a language that she can't be able to speak. He's studying at a place called University and so on... A lot of things that she makes she really proud of, however she tells the kid that being humble is the most rightous way to be

Ma, you know who I am talking about, right? I think in the future, probably 10 years or 20 years from now. When I have enough courage I will translate it into Viet, send it to you and say

I thương you Ma!

there are no words to demonstrate thương in english. It means more than love ( empathy, sympathy and more than that )

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anadorablack · 1 year

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Share ten different favorite characters from ten different pieces of media in no particular order, then send this to 10 people (anon or not, your choice) 🎥🎬📺

[Let's go crazy over this 😘]

Jesus, @redfurrycat, do you want to murder me??? Choosing only TEN characters is like choosing between my children!!! :O (And significant others, but you get my meaning)

Alright, let's try... Sorry in advance to all those I forget... :/

Loki (Marvel Cinematic Universe)

I think I can say with utter honesty that Loki was the first (of many) antihero(es) I fell in love with. The complexity of this man (God, sorry darling), his backstory, the tragedy of it, while remaining true to himself and to those he deems worthy of his trust and love... It's all...*chef's kiss*. And YES, I'm talking about MCU Loki because I love him most, but I also adore Comic!Loki and NorseMythology!Loki. ;)

2. Nymphadora Tonks (Wizarding World)

I could have chosen her husband (MY husband) Remus because I LOOOOOOOVE him with all my heart, but I chose Tonks instead. You've got to understand. When the fifth book came out, I was a teenager, I was awkward, different. I dyed my hair, I was clumsy, too clever for my own good, and I was a bit of a loner. All that made me feel miserable, because why couldn't I just be like everyone else? Then, in came Tonks. Who was clumsy, different, with bubblegum-coloured hair, loyal to a fault. And who was an AUROR. A BADASS WITCH. And suddenly, it became okay to be all those things. And fuck being like everyone else. <3

3. Derek Hale (Teen Wolf)

I never watched the show. Ever. But reading extensively about Derek's character and backstory made it impossible not to love him whole-heartedly. That Sourwolf deserves the WORLD. <3

4. Eowyn of Rohan (Lord of the Rings)

I fell head over heels for her in the movies first, then when I read her for the first time, it was game over. Tolkien may have been parcimonious with his women characters, but Eowyn entirely surpasses any other male character in my opinion (sorry Aragorn, Faramir and Pippin, you know I love you too). She's far from the damsel in distress people would make her to be, and she's badass without being less feminine for it. <3

5. Nick 'Goose' Bradshaw (Top Gun)

Do I have to explain myself, when I've got a goose tattoed on my arm in his honour? My Polaroid-taking piano-playing moustache-wearing love. <3

6. Katsumoto Moritso (The Last Samurai)

Have I mentioned how much I love that movie, yet? :P Alright, it's my favourite movie ever: whenever I need a good cry, I just watch Katsu do his thing and I'm done for the count. Ken Watanabe giving him life after battling leukemia is even more touching, don't mind me, I'm tearing up over here.

7. Daniel Jackson (Stargate SG-1)

The first Nerd of my life. <3

8. Wednesday Addams (The Addams Family)

Before the show took everything by storm, my Wednesday spent her days looking like a psychopath and trying to kill her brother while finding out if her uncle was her uncle or not. And when I was a little girl, all I wanted, was to be like Wednesday. XD

9. The Doctor (Doctor Who)

I may be repeating myself, but I properly learnt English while watching DW. I stumbled upon Blink one night (Weeping Angels, still the creepiest villains EVER) and got hooked, even though at the time I didn't understand half of what was being said. Christopher Eccleston and David Tennant taught me English, Matt Smith made me fall more and more in love with the show, and Peter Capaldi became MY Doctor (I love grumpy assholes, as seen above). Then, Jodie became the first female Doctor, and she wasn't weaker, she wasn't more mellow, she was the same ruthless, awkward, loving but questionable alien I'd gotten to love. AND THANK CHIBNALL FOR THAT!

10. Benji Dunn (Mission: Impossible)

I couldn't not talk about MY spy movies. The ones that are so much better than any James Bond ever made, the ones that keep me on the edge of my seat and make me fall harder and harder for its characters every instalment. And Benji is by far my favourite (Simon Pegg isn't stranger to this), and if ANYTHING HAPPENS TO HIM IN MI7 TOM CRUISE GETS IT!!!

I might not tag many people, but if you want to do it, do it. ;)

#get to know me #characters I love

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malfoysstilinski · 3 years

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the rose garden | DRACO MALFOY (SMUT)

MASTERLIST

Draco Malfoy x Reader

SUMMARY: Draco fucks Y/N in his mother’s rose garden.

REQUESTED by anonymous “Could I request were draco and his girlfriend has been together for a year or 2 and their parents are really good friends. Y\Ns parents are also death eaters. And y/n is slytherin. It would be their 5th or 6th yr? Preferably a smut?”

WARNINGS: smut, public sex, extreme dirty talk, slut shaming, blowjobs, face fucking, fingering, riding

Hogwarts was out of session for the summer, and due to students living all across the United Kingdom and Ireland, it meant a lot people didn’t see their significant others for a long two months or so. However, fortunately, that was not the case for you and Draco.

You didn’t live far from each other and your parents were all friends-- they had been since before you and Draco were even born. They had been loyal followers of Lord Voldemort and passed them down to the two of you even after he was gone.

Whilst you questioned some things, you never said it out loud, and neither did Draco, allowing your parents to think that the two of your were perfect for each other. It was probably one of the only things that they were right about.

You and Draco had taken the Hogwarts Express together, you’d been sorted into Slytherin one after the other, you had all of the same friends-- Blaise, Pansy, Theodore, Daphne, Crabbe, Goyle-- and during your fourth year, after dancing with each other all night at the Yule Ball, you’d kissed and realised that maybe what you had had been more than a friendship this entire time.

For nearly two years now, you and Draco had been dating. Despite being such a dick to everybody else, Draco treated you exactly how you deserved to be treated-- like a real princess. In his eyes, you were a princess. The most beautiful of them all. Especially around your parents, who adored him as much as his parents adored you.

Currently, you sat beside each other at the Malfoy’s dining table, Lucius and Narcissa sat at the heads of the table whilst your parents sat opposite the two of you. A starter of some sort of soup was in front of you and you took small spoonfuls delicately, portraying the table etiquette that you’d learnt before you could even spell properly.

“Y/N, how was your fifth year?” Narcissa asks softly once the conversation changes from your father’s business to the new Potions teacher Hogwarts was supposedly getting next year.

You smile politely as you glance up at your boyfriend’s mother. You’d always liked Narcissa, she was the more loving of Draco’s parents and you could tell that she genuinely cared about Draco. You were sure Lucius did too, but the blond-haired man often refused to show emotion which you knew took a toll on Draco growing up.

“It was great, thank you, Mrs Malfoy,” you say, “I spent a lot of it studying for my O.W.Ls, which went well.”

“That’s great, Y/N,” Narcissa smiles back.

The rest of dinner seems to go by swimmingly, your parents mainly talking to each other but making small talk with the two of you as well. You’d all known each other all your lives, so it wasn’t really awkward at all. You’re finishing off the last of your drink when you feel a palm touch your thigh.

You know better than to react.

Draco’s cold hand smooths up and down your soft skin whilst he talks with your father and his father about something to do with the Ministry, your mothers both engrossed in Narcissa’s latest additions to her personal garden. Your father makes a joke that has Lucius laughing and Draco chuckling politely, your mouth absentmindedly forcing a small smile to act like you were listening, but all you can focus on is Draco’s hand.

He’s such an asshole.

You nearly shiver in delight as his slender fingers trace up and down your leg, growing warmer the longer they resided there. However, when you feel the pad of his index finger make contact with your sex, sliding underneath the thong that you’re wearing tonight, you purse your lips and grip the table, shocked.

He swipes his finger through your folds, gathering up the arousal that’s already there and swiping it across your clit. He starts to rub at it agonisingly slow, making you bite down on your lips lightly. You grab your drink and lift it to your lips to distract yourself, but you choke slightly on it when Draco rubs it at the perfect pace, spikes of arousal coursing through you and dampening your panties even more.

“Y/N, are you okay?” Narcissa asks worriedly, “You’re looking rather flushed.”

“I’m fine,” you breathe out, forcing yet another smile. “I’m just feeling rather... hot, that’s all.”

“If you would like, you and Draco could step outside for some fresh air before desert is served?” Narcissa offers, her face brightening, “Oh, Draco, you can show Y/N the new roses I put in the garden.”

“They’re all the way at the back, mother,” Draco began to complain, before something mischievous flashed in his silver eyes, “Oh, well I suppose it’s only polite I do so. Come, Y/N.”

He retracts his hand from your leg and stands, offering it to you. You send a weak smile to Narcissa and take his hand, your mothers cooing happily as Draco leads you out of the dreary dining room. As soon as you’re out into the fresh air, you shove Draco with a small glare.

“You dick!” You grumble at him, “Look, in the common room is one bloody thing, but in front of our parents? Merlin, Draco! If I got off in front of my father I would never be able to look him in the eye again. Especially if we had been caught!”

“But you liked it really, didn’t you, my little slut?” Draco growls, turning and grabbing your jaw with his slender fingers. “You love it when I get you off in front of people. Your cunt aches at the thought of nobody knowing what’s going on beneath the table.”

You whimper at his words, reaching up and placing your hand on his wrist. Draco smirks and looks back at the house.

“Come on then, Y/N,” Draco drawls, “Since you made such a fuss, I guess I must show you the rose garden now. Such a brat...”

Draco never talks to you like this in normal day circumstances, so you know what’s coming. This is foreplay for the way he’s probably about to bend you over and fuck you outside the house your parents are currently sat inside.

You can’t wait.

You feel yourself grow slick at the thought, slightly dampening your thighs as he sends you a look and jerks his head, gesturing for you to go up the path first. As soon as you’re in front of him, you feel his large hand smack against your ass, making you jump a little.

He grabs your arms from behind, forcing you against his front and pressing his lips to your ear. You can feel his erection pressing against your back.

“Be a good girl,” he hisses, his breath smelling faintly like the alcohol he’d been drinking with his dinner.

You make it towards the end of the garden and Draco whirls you around before dropping down onto his mother’s favourite bench. The seating was wooden, however, the arm wrests were dark green serpents, Draco’s hand curling around them as he parted his legs wide.

His silver eyes glinted with mischief, daring you to come closer.

“Draco,” you breathe.

“Come on, princess,” Draco unbuttons the top of his trousers. “On your knees. Show me how much you want me.”

Without thinking much at all, your brain foggy with arousal, you drop down onto your knees in front of the bench, unzipping Draco’s smart trousers. He sits up a little to help you drag them down his thighs. You reach to pull at the waistband of his underwear, pulling it back an inch and then letting it go so it snapped lightly against his erection.

Draco hisses in a mixture of pain and pleasure and grabs your wrist, glaring down at you.

“Enough,” Draco snaps, “Put your lips where they belong, slut. Around my fucking cock.”

You nearly moan out loud at his words, this time actually peeling his underwear down so that his erection sprung out the top. It was red and angry, the vein along the shaft practically pulsing beneath your gaze as precum made itself present at his tip.

You lean up further on your knees, one hand on his thigh and the other moving out to gently grasp his dick. Draco groans under his breath, eyes focused on you as you jerk slowly up and down his length, your thumb gliding out to swipe the precum off. Draco relaxes further against the bench, a drowsy smirk crossing his face when you lean forward and take him in your mouth.

“Good little slut...” he drawls, his lanky hand reaching out to run through his hair, tugging at it slightly when you suck your cheeks in, making your mouth feel so much tighter around him. “Fuck, Y/N. So fucking good for me. Best cock sucker there is.”

You moan around his cock, your hand moving to jerk off the part that you couldn’t quite reach with your mouth. Your tongue runs up and down him, feeling his vein and making its way up to the tip where you give it kitten licks.

“Mm, stop teasing,” Draco grunts, his other hand moving out to grab your head.

He keeps your head still and you know what’s coming. Slowly, he begins to thrust his hips, driving his cock in and out of your mouth so that his tip hits the back of your throat every now and then. You make slight gagging sounds, your eyes watering as spit coats his length. Draco loves the sight, he wishes he could take a picture.

He stops thrusting his hips, finding it tiresome from his position sat down, and instead uses your head like you’re a toy, forcing you up and down his cock. You moan, hands grabbing his thighs, focusing on breathing in and out of your nose.

Before he can cum, he pulls you off of him abruptly, a string of spit joining your lips and the tip of his cock. Draco smirks and brushes your lips with his thumb.

“My beautiful little cock slut,” he mutters, sitting further back against the bench. “I think that you’ve deserved some fun of your own, don’t you?”

“Yes, Draco,” you pant, nodding. “Please.”

“Since you asked so politely.”

Draco reaches forwards, hands on your waist as he tugs you towards him. You fall so that you’re straddling his body on top of the bench, out in the open where anybody could see you. He tugs up your tight dress and grabs at your ass, squeezing it and leaning forward to lick a stripe up your cleavage which is on show from your dress.

You can feel his cock brushing against your soaking heat. Your clit is throbbing so bad it nearly hurts, whines leaving your lips as Draco grabs the thin straps of your green bodycon dress and tugs them down, revealing your breasts to him. As his mouth dives forward to grab one of your nipples in his mouth, you can’t help but lower your body, grinding down against his hard cock and making him groan against you, vibrations running through your body.

“You’re soaked,” he mutters, pulling away once he had left a hickey on your breast where it wouldn’t be seen in your dress. “Such a fucking slut. You get off letting me fuck your face, don’t you?”

“Mmhmm,” you’re too aroused to really know what you’re agreeing to. All you know is that you need Draco to do something before you explode. “Please.”

“Please what? Use your words.”

“Please fuck me, Draco,” you beg him, “please make me cum.”

Draco smirks and reaches to grab your waist harder. You lift up on your knees more and watch as one of his hands disappears between you both. You feel the tip of his dick brush against your eager folds and you whine even louder, biting you lip and nodding at him quickly.

“Please, please, please.”

Draco guides it through your soaked sex before he finds your hole and takes one more look at you. The nod of consent is all he needs before he plunges himself into you. You both moan, breaths hitching in your throat. As you slide down so that you’re sat on his lap, his cock buried balls deep inside your pulsating heat, you feel so full, like if you were to put your hand against your stomach then you would feel him there.

“So fucking tight,” Draco hisses between gritted teeth. “Come on, slut. Ride me.”

You obey his command, growing slicker at his choice of nickname for you. Your hands move to his shoulders and you use them to help you bounce up and down on top of him, inches slipping out before being forced all the way back inside you, hitting spots that you didn’t know existed.

Draco was panting slightly beneath you, his silver eyes flickering from where he could see his cock coming in and out of your pussy, slick with your arousal, and up to your face where your head was thrown back in pleasure as you whined and moaned.

“So beautiful.” He reaches up and grabs your neck. “Look at me.”

You listen to him, feeling his fingers tighten around your neck and slightly blocking your airway. You feel lightheaded in the best possible way, eyes fluttering and your walls pulsating more around his cock as it drives in and out of you. Draco realises you’re starting to feel hazy and starts using his hips so he can pound up into you harder.

The sounds of your bodies colliding and your soaked pussy that normally embarrass you but turn Draco on don’t humiliate you today. You’re too focused on the grip he has on your neck and the way he keeps his pace thrusting in and out of you-- like it’s his only purpose in life. You know you’re going to cum soon.

Draco’s face dives forwards and nuzzles back to your breasts that are bouncing right in front of him. He licks and sucks and bites anything he can, his hot breath fanning your skin and making you cry out.

“Draco,” you cry.

“That’s it,” Draco grunts, forcing a few extra hard thrusts. “That’s it, Y/N. Fucking slut. You’d let me do anything to you. Such a fucking whore.”

You can tell that he’s close from how his hand has moved from your neck to your clit. His fingers create hard figures of eights against your throbbing bud, coating his digits in your arousal. You moan louder, this time driving your hips up harder and faster to keep up with his thrusts.

“Come on, Y/N,” Draco hisses, “you gotta cum for me. Cum all over my cock.”

His words are enough to send you toppling over the edge, your loudest moan yet half-buried by your teeth sinking into Draco’s shirt-clad shoulders. Your walls clench and shudder around him, tightening against his cock and causing his eyes to scrunch shut. Your breathless whisper of his name once your orgasm rolls by has him cumming straight after you. His hot seed shoots up inside in spurts, coating your walls and making you whine out against him again. He thrusts a couple of more times before he pulls out.

“Mm, Dra- Draco,” you mutter as he pulls you off of him and pulls the top of your dress back up.

Draco chuckles as he fixes his own underwear and trousers, pulling your dress down for you as you slide your panties back up. He presses a loving kiss to your lips.

“Not too much, was it?” Draco asks worriedly.

“No, that was perfect,” you admit, stroking some of his hair back into place.

“Good. I agree. Now, let’s get back to our parents. Desert must be ready soon.”

my mum came extremely close to catching me write this so i hope it was worth it honestly

#draco malfoy #draco #malfoy #draco malfoy smut #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x female reader #draco malfoy lemon #draco smut #draco lemon #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy imagines #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy x slytherin!reader #harry potter smut #harry potter imagine #draco malfoy fanfic #draco malfoy fanfiction

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sinisterlyhan · 3 years

Text

02. kim seungmin / 9435 words

female reader, virgin reader and virgin seungmin, oral (f & mreceiving), unprotected sex (this one is by choice, have safe sex everyone!), making out, fingering, angst with fluff

tw: light mentions of insecurities

a/n: hello, i am back after my sudden mini-hiatus to ruin everyone’s day! i have not written smut in a while, so i hope this piece isn’t too bad. also, the first part of this piece was originally posted on my sfw account so if you find something that is the exact same, that is also me.

you have always gotten emotional over seungmin leaving. even if it was just for a one-week christmas break with his friends, or a two-week music camp field trip with his choir group, or a two-month summer vacation with his family—you have gotten emotional over him leaving one way or another.

not dramatically, of course. it wasn’t like you were spilling waterfalls of tears and throwing temper tantrums over not being able to see or hold him for seven days straight; if that was the case, seungmin knew for a fact that he would not be able to handle it, especially since those absent days happen every single year.

you just get a little naggy, caringly naggy, like you’ve got amnesia every five minutes and you would keep reminding him to take care of himself, or make sure to have a good time, or think about you when he is away.

and seungmin does. he always does. whether it is at night on the soft hotel bed or walking down a loud foreign street, he makes space for you in his head and he shows that he has been thinking about you by sending you pictures and getting you souvenirs.

sometimes he becomes the annoying one because he keeps spamming you with pictures. you still remember playfully threatening to block his number after he sent you a frame by frame set of pictures, where you saw the entire process of jeongin tripping on jisung’s fallen body (because he tripped on thin air first) and falling to the ground.

it was a good blackmail material. you could pinpoint exactly the moment where jeongin realized he would be making friends with the brick ground, his eyes wide in alert and his arms flailing out in a poor attempt to grasp the air for support. when the boys came back from music camp that year, you made sure to give jeongin a big smooch on the head, which he begrudgingly accepted.

you have always gotten emotional over seungmin leaving. but not this time, not in a sense that you didn’t feel anything about his departure, it was just that… you were different this time.

you were ecstatic the first moment you heard that seungmin, along with his friends, passed theit idol audition and would get the chance to train under a prestigious entertainment. it has always been his dream to sing for people, you had been beyond proud of him to achieve the spot. it was until he broke it to you that he would have to move to seoul to pursue his opportunity when the realization finally dawned upon your silly, silly head.

he has to leave. he wasn’t breaking up with you, no, but he has to leave. for however many years it would take for him to qualify for debuting, and after that, there would be years of the dating ban, and then there would also be tight schedules and long distances.

seungmin was only leaving the city, but it felt like he was leaving you.

you left him to his own devices after that, stalling and wasting all the times you could have spent with him to make the remaining days count. you spared no playful nagging and no playful reminders, just unread texts and missed calls.

it was too much for you, you feared too much of the uncertainty—what if you couldn’t be patient enough for him? what if he couldn’t resist another’s seduction for you? what if the both of you couldn’t fight against time, the time that would pick and pinch at your affection for each other until there is nothing left to share?

seungmin zipped up his luggage just as the door to his bedroom knocked. he barely glanced behind his shoulder to look at it, his back arched in pure exhaustion at how his heart had been spiraling depressively for the past week. it was his last night in his home, his last night in his home city, that alone was enough to make him feel anxious and homesick.

but nothing had prepared him for how disastrously affected his heart would be when he realized he might have to leave without seeing you, without touching you, and without hearing that you love him once more.

the impatient knock came again and he finally stood up, his brows furrowed in annoyance. he moved over to his door, ready to tell his mother for the fifth time this night that he would not be changing his mind and he did remember to bring enough clothes, but when he swung open the door, it was you who stood before him instead.

“hey…” you said, clutching your jacket tightly.

he opened his mouth but only air slipped out. you looked as tired as he did, and he could tell you have cried yourself to sleep for the past days. as much as he wanted to immediately wrap you in his arms, to feel you against him, he found himself stepping aside and giving you space into his room first.

his room was as dim as it usually was during night time, when seungmin has the habit of turning off the main light on the ceiling and instead, flipping on the warmer light on the wall. it was a cloud-shaped light; seungmin hated it until you decided to decorate it with cartoon stickers during a sleepover. he has never looked at it the same way again.

the first thing you saw was the luggage on the floor, packed and ready to be sent away. your heart dropped slightly at its indication, then you quickly picked yourself back up. you have talked to yourself about this, you have thought about this and decided you wanted to support his dreams instead of dwelling in your misery until the sadness replaced itself with guilt and missed chances.

“you–you packed,” you said, gesturing towards the luggage on the floor before you turned around to face him.

“yeah.“ seungmin nodded. “i leave tomorrow morning.”

you hummed in defeated acknowledgment. the tension was more longing than awkward, the air waiting for one of you to break out of restraint first. turning to look at his opened closet, you raised a brow at the empty hangers lining up to the side of the closet before you finally caught sight of three colorful hoodies hung at the farthest corner.

you laughed meekly as you pointed at it, hiding the sobs in your throat. “you–you idiot! you forgot to pack your favorite hoodies.”

seungmin looked over, his fingers fiddling together nervously as his mouth hung open in a poor attempt to explain why he had left those there. his mind fired quickly and the first thing he did was only to state the obvious. “i am going to leave them here.”

you frowned at him, your lips curling down and your cheeks bulging out at the pressure.

seungmin softened at your incredulously curious eyes, his shoulders visibly relaxing as he waited for you to speak. “but why? you should at least take the blue one, you look so good in it and it’s your absolute favorite one.”

he licked his lower lip, a faint smile blossoming on his face. he stared at you, blinking gently. “it’s your favorite one. they’re your favorite hoodies too.”

you sucked in a rapid breath, understanding his intentions. he left those there for you, a token of your relationship, a token of his love. it was a way to tell you that he, until the last minute, still thought about you; a way that didn’t require the use of cheesy text messages or well thought out confessions, which he was never very good at anyway.

just three colorful hoodies in his empty closet, all of them covered in his warmth and his scent.

you bit your lower lip to hold down a sob as you walked over to the closet. it was much less messy than usual, which felt out of place for you. being able to see the shoe boxes stacked at the back of the closet was unfamiliar, they were usually covered by his shirts and sweaters, occasionally seeing the light of day when seungmin pushes the clothes to the side or you steal one of his shirts again.

peeling the light blue hoodies off the hanger, you carefully threw it over your head and marveled at the way that even though its fabric went loose around your torso, you felt fulfilled and warm wearing it. bringing your sweater paws up to your cheeks, you inhaled the sleeves and closed your eyes at the smell of flowery detergent mixed with seungmin’s familiar fragrance.

it was a match made in heaven; it was a smell you could recognize even if you were rid of most of your senses because for so long, it was what home smelt like to you, and it still is what home smells like to you.

would you forget, after years of separating from him? would you still remember it but somehow he stopped feeling like home anymore? would your heart lose him to time and distance?

seungmin sighed with the shattering of his heart when he heard you choke out a sob. you had begun to cry, your tears staining the hoodie sleeve as you wailed your fears and longings away, and he wasn’t very sure what to do. he was never good at handling criers because he wasn’t one, and neither were you before this happened.

“(name)…” he took a step forward but stopped when you turned around.

“i’m so sorry for ignoring you these weeks,” you said, your voice teary and timid, but loud and strong enough to make seungmin’s heart pound against his chest. “i’m sorry if i made you think i don’t support you and your dreams. i need you to know that i do and if you have to leave this place to go after it, you should.”

to be honest, the idea that you didn’t support him has never crossed his mind. he knew you would, for some reason. you had always been there for choir shows, you listened to him talk about all the musical things he did during camp despite not understand instrumental talk, you never failed to praise him for his incredible vocal talent—you had always been the first in line when it comes to him and singing.

you were upset, he understood, that he had to leave you here and he only gave you a two weeks notice that he would be leaving for years, plus the uncertainty that your relationship may never work out as smoothly as it could when he was still an unknown high school boy with big dreams.

he couldn’t get mad at you for avoiding him until the last minute.

for one, he understood why. he supposed he would be pretty disheartened if you did the same thing as well. for two, he just couldn’t bring himself to get mad at you at a time like this, when he needed his last memories of you to be nothing but loving and heartfelt.

heaving a sigh, he got on the bed and scooted to the middle where he sat with his feet dangling off the edge. he opened his arms and beckoned you over softly. “come here, my love.”

you did, stumbling closer to him until your thigh met with his feet. he leaned in to hold your hands, giving your arms a few childish swings before he pulled you on his lap, helping you position yourself by circling his arms around your waist and preventing you from falling off his thighs.

you sniffed when he kissed your cheeks, giggling in feign disgust when he grimaced with a complaint about your tears having a salty taste, and you burst into another fit of feathery laughter when he went to smooch your cheeks again just to mend the dry trail of waterfalls down your skin.

“i missed you so much,” you muttered, your voice almost giving away as you cupped his jaw in your hands and stared into his heart-shaped eyes.

“i missed you too,” he mumbled under his breath, bringing you closer to him unconsciously. “i am so sorry for making you cry.”

you hummed in disagreement as you lightly shook your head. your fingers pressed against his cheeks, clinging to them and hugging his face carefully in a way seungmin never wanted you to let go. your accepting smile made him fall, again and again, and he had to hold himself down so he wouldn’t kiss you right then and there.

“i’m sorry for wasting all these times, we could have been this close every night,” you said quietly, trailing over his features with your teary eyes. “i hope i am not too late.”

seungmin smiled, his eyes squinting with a crinkle of his nose. you can never be too late for him, his heart is ready for you at any moment of his remaining life, whether it is thinking about you quietly or having you pressed near his body.

seungmin will always be ready for you, all that you will give him and all that he is ready to give you.

“it’s never too late to kiss me,” he whispered close to your lips, feeling your back squirm under the weight of his words.

rolling your eyes at his words, you squeezed his cheeks before gladly leaning in so you could press your lips against his. his fingers gingerly clawed at your lower back as he other hand flew up to hold your wrist, any attempt just to touch your bare skin.

god, your lips. your soft, soft lips, made out of sugar and spice. he could play a thousand strings and sing a thousand words about them; about how kissing you always make him feel so needed and loved, how it makes him feel like there is nothing else he can do better aside from giving you every ounce of strength he has.

it opens a gate to his heart he didn’t even know he had, one only you can open because you are the key.

with the influence of his excited heart, seungmin suddenly started to graze your lip with his teeth, his brows furrowing passionately when he caught your lower lip between them.

you let out a breathy moan, surprised. but you only had too little time to dwell in the shock before you opened your mouth and allowed seungmin to do whatever he wanted.

adrenaline rushed up to your lungs, causing a ruckus beneath your bones as your mind chased itself into chaos. he has never kissed you with such urgency before, with silent pleads pierced in the tip of his tongue and desperate longing tattooed in the way he moved against you. he was kissing you to make you breathless, to make your burn with revelation.

seungmin kissed you intending to linger, so the shape and the taste of his lips will haunt you every day and night when he is away. and damn, it was so good, you were drenched in blissful abandon to let him take full control over you.

amidst this heated moment, seungmin forced himself to pull away for a brief moment to allow his hazy mind to settle down. both of you were adrift somewhere in paradise and both of you had no plans of returning any time sooner.

you kept yourself close to him, your upper lip positioned tenderly against his, taunting him to resist, daring him to let go once more. your eyes were as gone as seungmin’s were when you stared into them, and you inwardly worshipped the way his inky black eyes, devoured in thunderstorms and fallen ashes, could pull you to him so effortlessly.

“i love you, okay?” he declared breathlessly, but his tone was filled to the brim with sincerity. “i love you, three or ten years from now.”

three or ten years from now, whether he only gets to talk to you every weekend or every three months, whether it would be easy to find the right time to catch up with each other or if the process would make him want to pull his hair out—seungmin loves you, and he will wait until he can love you.

“wait for me, please,” he pleaded then, the ocean in his eyes seemed brighter and ready to spill, causing heartache in your chest. he was clutching the hoodie and pressing your hand to his cheek, his shaky movements only calming down at your warmth.

wait for me. seungmin was asking. wait for me, remember me, hold on to me.

you felt like crying again. the volcanic sadness stays no matter how many times you convince yourself things would turn out fine, that you could live without him being near you eventually.

you could deal with the quiet, you could deal with not anticipating his presence when you leave home, you could deal with the untouched skin and unkissed lips. yes, you could, you have to.

“i will, i promise” you replied in a hush, lowering your head. “i’m going to miss you so much.”

seungmin pressed his thumb to your eye carefully, swiping across the wet corners and making you chuckle as you leaned against his palm, looking up at him again.

“i will text you all the time. if i don’t, my friends will,” he grumbled with a scoff, remember how bitter he felt when it took jeongin no amount of effort to get your phone number back then while he had to stall a whole week before mustering up the courage to do so. “we will keep in touch, we all will.”

“you guys better,” you said threateningly, kind of threateningly, making him smile.

and he kissed you again, much softer this time. it was to seal a sacred vow one would find harder to break than any else’s, an oath shared by two teenagers who are so genuinely, so tenderly, and so tragically in love with each other.

“how early are you leaving tomorrow?” you asked after pulling away, adjusting your legs so instead of sitting in a kneeling posture, they wrapped around his lower back, making it much more comfortable for you and giving you two more space to be closer to each other.

“hmm, since we have to take the bus to the train station and we are meeting up at the bus stop around the school before going there together…” he calculated in his head, a pout forming on his lips due to the concentration. “i think i’ll have to leave around seven in the morning.”

that was earlier than you thought. but either way, you never planned to see him off anyway. turning into a crying mess in public early in the morning would not be a plan; if you could, you would rather let him leave just as things are—a soft goodbye to your sleeping form, and maybe you will sob on his bed for a while after you wake up.

“i am not going to the train station with you,” you said, running your hands through his hair before circling your arms around his neck into a hug. you sighed. “so it is just going to be tonight.”

“okay.” seungmin flashed you a faint smile, a bittersweet but endearing one. his pinky gently tucked at a piece of your hair, his fingers brushing back against your temple and falling to your ear. “do you need anything from me before I go?”

“you should be the one getting something from me. i never gave you a congratulatory gift for getting through your audition,” you said with a laugh, tapping his nose with your index finger and pressing your chest up against his for a needed closeness. “i am very proud of you, seungmin.”

he gave you a peck. “thank you.”

and you two just looked at each other. affectionately drawn towards the other like how north sticks to south. you couldn’t help but whisper a loving confession, brushing his hair as the words “i love you” left your lips like a secret only seungmin gets to hear.

“i love you too,” he returned immediately, his eyes shutting for a brief moment to allow the rush of euphoria. then they flutter open so he could look at you and ask, “are you sure you don’t want anything from me?”

you thought for a moment, your brows furrowing in thoughts. there were not many things you wanted to ask from him, most of those you do were out of his ability to accomplish, such as not leaving you here.

“call me when you get there,” you reminded him.

“of course,” he hummed. “what else?”

you sighed, keeping your eyes on him as it hit you that there really wasn’t anything else you needed from him. you just needed him, and you had him the moment you stepped into his room, so you figured you should get the most and the best out of it.

seungmin could see where your eyes were and believe it or not, he was totally on the same page. it was not the type of nights he wanted to spend with words. there were only senses and feelings that he wanted to have threaded through his veins this night, be it loud or quiet, tender or rough, or perhaps both of each opposite.

you leaned in, your eyes moving up from his lips to look into the windows of his brilliant soul. “stay with me,” you breathed into his mouth, “until you leave me.”

seungmin wasted no time to claim your lips once more, rough exhales fanning against your face as he desperately kissed you to fulfill the insatiable desire he held for you. he could feel it in his guts—the cunning and greedy burn beneath his ribs that held so much he wanted to say to you, that the words of his inadequate language were unable to express enough, were threatening to explode from the brisk of his skin.

in all that the world could offer, languages of all places and phrases of all great minds, the only word he knew were you, you, you. and he wasn’t even able to speak it. all he could show you of how he called out to you was through his action; the tug of his hands at your waist and the bite of his teeth at your lower lip.

you squeezed his shoulders, your eyes closing upon the familiar taste of his mouth on your tongue when he boldly slipped past your gently parted lips. the softness that once graced seungmin’s being was long gone. he was hasty now, needy and desperate for all of you, and all you could do was comply with him.

your chest heaved with a low moan when he bit your lip again, his hand pressing you down against his abdomen. your body relaxed against his with a shiver, yet your thighs squished at his sides upon the ever-growing arousal under your waist when you felt him, vividly, against you.

“min–“ you pulled away, looking into his eyes with all vulnerability you have ever left hanging at the lashes of your eyes. you looked at him, your hands running up the side of his face and spreading within his hair, and your shaky gaze scanned his entire face as if your patience was running thin.

he beat you to begging for the intimacy, his face leaning close toward yours just to feel the bone of your nose nudging against his own. there was something about his utter lack of ability to be away from you at this moment.

he was not physically attached to you, but there was nothing else he wanted more of the world than to be so. he would do anything; he would tear down hell and break through heaven, he would destroy the sun and shoot down the stars if it meant to keep you beautifully by his side.

he needed to be attached to you, the love of his life.

“i need you,” he whispered, “please.”

his breath was demanding, but also teasing in a way that he wanted to make this comfortable and loving for you, as opposed to the upsetting farewell you two were having.

you shivered, your half-lidded eyes staring at each shadow that cast over his face in his dim room. your hands dropped from his hair, causing a faint look of disappointment in his eyes, but that was gone as quickly as it came when he realized that you were reaching for the hem of his blue hoodie.

you tugged at the soft fabric, making sure you brought your shirt along with it when you slowly slid them up your body and finally over your head.

the first thing his eyes gravitated toward was your chest, covered by a random bra you threw on because you did not anticipate the visit to turn out like this. he watched with an itchy hand and an unbreathable throat when your hand reached behind your back to unhook your bra. you slid it off your shoulders, showing him your breasts, and you tried to hide your shyness by looking away as you discarded your bra somewhere on the floor.

seungmin’s eyes were glued to your chest, he wasn’t even trying to hide it. you almost wanted to laugh at the hanging of his jaw and the way he was blatantly staring at your close to naked chest, but you kept the amusement to yourself and went ahead to cup the side of his face, bringing his attention back to your face.

you smiled, but then you pursed your lips and begun to shrink into yourself when you realized this was the most naked you’ve ever been with a boy before. not to mention how unconfident you have always been with the way your body looked. the way his eyes were glued to your chest was starting to become a look of judgment rather than an action out of surprise and fondness.

his eyes widened when you suddenly squealed, your head lowering and your forehead bumping against his shoulder. he laughed a little, his hands moving to your wrists before he gently pushed you away from you. you were frowning slightly, your brows furrowed with an uncertain pout on your face, and you refused to look at him until he tipped your chin up with your hand.

he wasn’t too sure why you were acting this way, but what he did know was that this was your first time, as well as his. sex is a foreign subject. that kind of intimacy is drastically different than holding hands, or cuddling, or making out, or even having late-night philosophical talks until you fall asleep on the phone.

both of you were feeling chilled to the bones with both anticipation and nervousness about how things could go, and both of you probably wanted everything to feel good and perfect.

so if you were hiding from him because you changed your mind, then he’d want you to know you could back out. he could deal with what happened in his pants by himself later.

“you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” he said, poking your nose, “we can just watch a movie, or we can talk until we fall asleep if you want.”

the pout on your face faded slightly upon his words; a kind offer, but one you didn’t need. you flashed him a deadpan smile, your hands moving to clamp atop of his shoulders again as you spoke, “it’s not that. i do want to do this with you, i don’t think there is anybody else in the world i’d want to do this with! it’s just… my… my boobs…”

his eyes drifted down at them and he looked back up at you. “they’re great.”

“they are.” you were doubtful.

“they’re boobs, babe. any boobs are great–“

“seungmin.”

“okay, okay!” he nodded with a fit of a giggle, then he moved in to kiss your lips. his hands moved to roam your sides, brushing tenderly across your skin and creating a trail of goosebumps on his way. he kept kissing you as he spoke, a kiss every other word he let out. “they are great. your body, i love it because it’s yours, and i can’t believe i’m allowed to touch you like this right now.”

you blushed with a heat rushing up your cheeks, burning hotly under his words and the way he kept kissing you. how sweet and cheesy, but you didn’t mind it much. you were too drowned in being adored by him to care about criticizing anything he says or does, you just wanted this moment to keep going so you could finally plunge into the real act.

keeping your hands at the nape of his neck, you moved your lips with his for a second longer before you moved away, making him whine with a low hum.

his hands stayed at your side as if they were afraid, and you were getting impatient. panting, your voice was raspy when you said, “you can touch me more.”

seungmin raised his brows at the permission. his heart sped up at the thought of going beyond your waist and your back. he was thinking about it, but each time he felt the side of his palm brush against the soft skin under your breasts, he flinched away with timidity simultaneously as he grew needier for your body.

he couldn’t let himself just touch you, he supposed, it would be such a bold thing to do. he felt like if he ever did, he would have to find a way to preserve the feeling, and he was very unprepared for that.

“seungmin…” you called out in a feminine voice when he didn’t respond, one that sounded so needy it would surely get him riled up. your hands moved to grab his, bringing them up your body until they almost met at your breasts. “touch me.”

a tease, what a tease. it was only your first time and you were being a tease, looking so divine and perfect on top of his lap you tested his composure and his control over his patience.

he exhaled.

you asked for it.

seungmin took you by complete surprise when he moved. hoisting you off his lap, you felt yourself dip sideways before your back met the soft cover of his bed. he hovered over you, his body stuck between your spread legs, and his hands squeezed your waist to set you in place before he reached down to capture your lips again. you followed his lead, feeling his hand roam across your stomach before they finally moved up to your breasts.

a breath got caught in your throat when he cupped his hands over the roundness. he fondled them, squeezing and pressing his palm against them just to feel your hardened nipples against him. he hummed out in satisfaction when you trembled under his touch, unfamiliar but pleasing, and he let go of your mouth to hear your noises while he moved down your jaw and your neck to leave trails of love marks on your skin as a goodbye gift.

you tilted your head to the side so he has more space to plant his bruises. you could feel his teeth graze you, and he was sucking on your skin so hard you felt pressure within the spot. it was forcing you to make friends with the reality and the level of intimacy you two were venturing into.

he was on top of you, kissing you, dropping crosses on your body, fondling your breasts, and his hips occasionally grinding at your bottom so he could temporarily press down the impulsivity inside his pants.

this was the reality; you two were about to become whole, you want you both to become whole.

seungmin moved away in the heat of the moment, his hands hastily reaching to pull his shirt off his body as well before he dove back to your collarbones and went down, his lips worshipping the veins and bones hidden under your skin. he took your breast in his mouth, sucking on your nipple and flicking the bud with his tongue. you arched your back at the sensation, so foreign yet exciting that you couldn’t help but push down on his head with the same hand that once carded gently through his hair, wanting more and more of him.

he was never going to leave you, though. his lips stayed attached to your body, kissing you down and everywhere he could reach, his tongue darting out the lick wet spots on your delicacy. it was until he reached the hem of your shorts when he paused—this was the place. he eyed up at you, catching the weak and pleading look in your eyes once, then he gingerly moved his fingers to unbutton and unzip your shorts. he carefully slid it off your hips, his fingers tugging against your panties on the way until you were completely naked under him.

the last of your clothes dropped to the ground without a care. seungmin was glued to the glistening sight of your exposed heat. your curled your fists, nervous about what he was thinking as he stared at you. your legs felt shaky as you thought of whether you wanted to close your knees or not, and before you could make a decision for yourself, seungmin already stumbled forward on his knees and brought himself to the edge of his bed.

he grabbed your ankles, his grip soft as he brought your legs over his shoulders with a nod of his head. you let him guide you through the ordeal—resting your ankles on his shoulders and pulling you forward to him. he curled his hands around your thighs when you were close enough.

you flinched, a quick and shivering flinch, when you felt his lips against your cunt. your knees almost smashed his head if he hadn’t tightened his grip on your thighs to keep you from moving. your eyes stayed wide open, staring dizzily at the ceiling, as seungmin continued to do experimental kisses against your wet pussy. one, two, three, four, before he decided it was time for him to dart his tongue out.

he flicked against your clit, miraculously finding it on his first try and staying there when he saw your positive reaction. he abused it, licking and sucking on the bundle of nerves until your bud was protruding and even a little painful from all the stimulation. but he didn’t let himself stop there. the lovely and filthy noises you were letting out, paired with the call of his name over and over again, was too much of a blessing for him to let up.

he continued with his pleasuring, grazing his teeth against your skin as he sucked on you, his fingers making an entrance by slowly sliding himself inside your warm cunt. he didn’t want to do too much so he paid attention to your reaction. it was an ego boost each time you arch your back and moan his name. he has never been better than this.

your legs trembled on his shoulders, having never felt such sudden jolts before and your senses were not familiar with receiving such pleasure. your lips were parted to let out huffs of little whimpers and moans as you relish in the feeling of his touch—a brand-new feeling of joy seungmin was graciously gifting you that was unlike all the others.

you were being touched, you felt touched, and he was willing to do so even when you weren’t sure if you deserved it. such simple ways to make you happy; all he needed was himself, and the lovingness in all of his movements done to your sensitive body.

“fuck–seungmin, seungmin!”

you tried to find words to say in the midst of the pumping of his fingers. your walls were clenching down on the intrusion, coating his fingers with your slickness until it became a slip-and-slide to go in and out of you. you were wet, oh so very wet, and it was all his doing. he could taste your arousal on his tongue and he kept wanting more, so he moved quicker with his hand as if he could fuck more juices out of you with it. your legs bent, hitting his shoulder blades, and you moved your hand down to his head where you tugged at his hair.

“seungmin! you–i’m going to–“ you whimpered out, seeing fading stars in your eyes, “please fuck me, fuck me first!”

he stopped, the manic look in his eyes fading at your words. pulling his fingers out of you, the stickiness not bothering him, he stood up and moved onto the bed and left you cold with an approaching orgasm that would soon fade. he wasn’t much thinking about that—he was still thinking about that, but there was something else he needed to make sure first: did you ask him to stop because you wanted to cum with him inside you? did you want to orgasm from him fucking you with his cock? was that what you wanted, that’s why you made him stop?

oh, but the thought alone… the thought of you orgasming because of him, the thought of you reaching that ultimate pleasure because of him. it would surely be an honor to behold.

he leaned down to your face, his eyes genuine and also somewhat worried as looked at you. taking his clean hand, he brushed the hair out of your sweaty forehead and kissed your eyes. “what do you want?”

you exhaled, your hands awkward so they settled against his warm chest. looking up at him with round and wide eyes, you asked politely, “can you fuck me, seungmin?”

“i was,” he hummed, his other hand casually reaching back down to your heat.

the confidence came when he realized his ability to please you, and he decided he could set his needs aside and toy with you for some reactions he would savor in his head for the rest of his life. he pressed the tip of his fingers against your hole, dipping in but not letting your feel full by inserting.

he played with you, watching as you squirm with a needy expression when he wouldn’t give you what you want, feeling as you bucked your hips up for his hand and asked for him to touch you, and finally when you exhaled in relief as he finally moved his fingers inside your pussy.

“i was fucking you, (name), with my mouth,” he said. “i am fucking you right now.”

oh, but it wasn’t his tongue and his fingers that you wanted the most. he knew that. you knew he knew that as well. he was good with them, it was heavenly a moment ago when he was kneeling on the floor, but nothing could beat the excitement in your chest that was waiting for when he finally stretches you out and officially takes your virginity by colliding his body with yours. you wanted it, both the pain and the pleasure that would follow.

you wanted to be around seungmin and make him feel good as well, and most importantly, you wanted your first orgasm to be when you were near him, the love of your life. you wanted to cum feeling him inside you.

“i want your–“ you shut your mouth in defeat, looking at him with a pout as if that would soften him up.

seungmin smiled at your adorableness, but he as he dragged the back of his finger down your face, his other hand still pumping in and out of your cunt but his pace has since slowed down, all he asked was, “you want my what?”

“you’re pushing it,” you mumbled as you gave him a deadpan look, “i even acted cute for you.”

pulling out of your heat, he grinned with a roll of his eyes. then he shook his shoulders as if throwing a tantrum, his lips puckering slightly as he playfully hit his fist against your chest. “just say it once! i want to hear you say it!”

“seungmin, i’m shy!” you complained, shoving him lightly.

“you weren’t so shy when you were moaning like a minute ago!”

“seungmin!”

“just ask me, just say you want my dick and i’ll give it to you, i promise,” he said, knowing well he would have given it to you regardless of you asking or not.

you huffed, the corner of your lips quirking downward as you glared at him before you mumbled, “i want your cock.”

“what?”

“i want your cock, seungmin,” you pleaded louder this time, looking impatient and annoyed with your furrowed brows and the stuttering movement of your shoulders.

“good girl.” he smiled and pinched your cheek. “see? that wasn’t so hard.”

you took your time with grumbling a complaint about his action. but, however you wanted to see it, he did make you feel more at ease with having sex for the first time. the playful way he talked to you just a minute ago made it feel as if this was just any ordinary activity, and there was nothing you needed to be afraid of. it was just you and him together, and he would take care of you like he always has. you would be fine with him.

the thought diminished for a quick second, though, when you saw that he has taken off his pants and boxers. your opened your mouth, your eyes couldn’t help but stare at his hardened shaft, and all you could do the next second was turn away with an uncontrolled laugh bubbling out your throat.

seungmin looked up slightly at the noise, trying to recognize it, and when he realized you were laughing, he immediately snapped his head to you with a look of utter disbelief.

“are you laughing?” he asked, accusingly if you listened carefully.

you shook your head, your hand failing to cover up the giggles of your throat. “no, i’m not–not specifically at you, i swear!”

he moved over to you, his elbows supporting his upper body as he grabbed your face and made you look at him. he squished your cheeks together as you continued to laugh, your eyes turning intensely into little moons when you saw the hilarious look on his face. he looked you then, the sight of your lips quirking up into such a bright smile was something he took a mental image of. and your giggles trailed into his ears, hammering against the empty space in his head looking for a permanent home. he let the sound of you in with only a single knock.

seungmin softened, allowing him a smile as well. looking at you now, feeling you warm and safe against him now, almost made him want to abandon his dream and just stay here with you forever. how could he leave you—his girl, his favorite person, his best friend. he wanted to be with you all the time.

but he somehow knew you wouldn’t agree to that, you would push him to chase after his goal, so he will. he will miss this when he leaves. the sound of your laughter, the way he could make you snort and scream and make the prettiest and ugliest expressions.

he will miss everything about you during every waking second of his days without you near him, but even time would fail to take him away from you because he would love you through every second of it until he could see you again.

pressing his forehead against yours, he giggled with you. “what are you laughing at, (name)?”

“nothing! i promise!” you replied loudly, then you settled down with a quiet hum in your chest. you reached up for his hands, smiling at him. “i love you.”

“i love you as well,” he said, moving his nose against yours as his voice came out in a fearsome whisper, “please say you want me again.”

your eyes relaxed into a scratch of affection. they moved across his face, taking him in, soaking his feature in you, and you kissed his mouth to speak it into him, “i want you, kim seungmin.”

it was a risk when he pushed himself inside you, raw and bare, but it was a risk you thought you ought to take at this age, and a risk you knew you wouldn’t have regretted taking. he went in slow, his lips moving across your face to soothe out the pained creases while you clutched his arm tightly upon the burn of the stretch. he was bigger than you thought, it felt different, bigger, than when you looked at it.

he kissed you when he moved, hoping to get you to adjust to his size and to get himself more acquainted with the warmth of your walls around him. you didn’t mind the slowness of his thrusts, they were soft and undemanding, they were solid and memorable. you could feel every inch of him sliding within, the slickness of your walls helping him move easier amongst the tightness. your bodies collided again and again with hot exhales fanning against your faces as both of you tried not to go crazy for the feeling of each other.

seungmin kept his hands moving around your body. the map he could never forget; he would always come back to this place in his memories, in the dead of the night when he felt alone. the juncture between your bones, your delicate skin, and your warmth that covered his entirety so perfectly as you sucked him into your body, taking him so well he thought there was no place else he could be.

he only moved faster upon your request. he rutted against you, trying so hard not to get lost in the euphoric sensation that he would begin snapping his hips against yours at a pace that could bring him to the edge even quicker. he needed to relish at this moment where the sensuality happens, and he wanted to feel all of you here alone. but while knowing he wouldn’t go faster, he did want to go deeper into you.

he kissed your lips, swallowing your moans, as he gently hiked your leg up to his back until it rested near his shoulder. he gave you a sharp pound and you let out a choked noise at the heart-pounding feeling it gave you. he inhaled, moving his cock harsh against it and pushing toward that inner part of your cunt again to get another immediate reaction out of you.

your eyes rolled up this time, your jaw dropping with a loud whine that you thought his parents would have heard in their bedroom, but you were unable to bring yourself to think at all, you just wanted more.

seungmin smiled. that was the spot. that was the spot he was looking for.

“is that okay?” he huffed out, thrusting into you, “did you like that?”

“ah–yes, seungmin,” you breathed out, your back arching as the same spot got hit over and over again, waves and waves of pleasure lapping at your veins. you nodded, your hands clutching his arms with whines falling alive at your lips. “fuck, that feels really good.”

he smiled at your approval, feeling the tension at his back relax upon knowing that he wasn’t doing anything wrong. you were enjoying him as much as he was enjoying you. the reciprocation was delightful to acknowledge, especially in a moment as such where he wanted to leave an impression for you to remember by later if you so needed to. he knew he would because thinking about being so close to you would soon be the only escapism he has.

the gentle yet filthy words he had begun whispering into your ears made you feel all tingly and edged. his words praised you, his words worshipped every move you made and every surface of your being, his words loved you as much as his body was loving you.

they made you shiver by embracing your little soul, unraveling you slowly by breaking down the walls of your assumed unworthiness, and they did not dump you to the ground to repair yourself.

seungmin was here, the whole time, for you to reach out to.

he is always ready for you. even with the distance and limits that you were so very afraid of, he will always be ready for you.

sucking in a deep, teary breath, one that paired with a light whimper as you felt your high approaching with each thrust, you reached up for your boyfriend. you circled your arms around his neck, bringing him down to you so you could kiss him fervently. your leg fell off without his support but they clung over his waist to bring him closer with tightening of your muscles.

seungmin’s hands laid flat to the side of your head upon your beckoning, caging you under him as he slotted his mouth longingly against yours, his brows furrowing at the passionate kiss.

“you’re my heart, min,” you confessed softly against his eyes, “i love you.”

he could feel the tears in your eyes but they weren’t falling just yet. he hoped they wouldn’t fall, he wouldn’t know what else he could do aside from kissing those tears away until he has to leave you tomorrow morning. giving you a nod, he rubbed the side of your face with his thumb and smiled endearingly down at your face. “wait for me, okay?”

wait for him, and he will dream, always, about your eyes when you laugh, the way you shove him when he tells a lame joke, and the mediocre food you cook for him during weekend hangouts. he will dream about coming back to your side, about holding and kissing you again, about the intimacy he has carefully shifted into a precious spot of his head.

wait for him to come home so he could make all the dreams come true again.

you nodded hastily, partly because your walls had started to clench on his shaft impossibly upon the tightening of your abdomen. getting closer, seungmin snapped his hips against yours, trying to bring you over the edge and push you down for the ultimate rapture. he looked—stared—at you when your peak approached, a rush of warmth coating his skin as you came around his hard cock, burying him in a blissfully hot place.

your eyes rolled skyward, and he could feel your fingers tightening around his neck, your nails digging into his skin upon the overwhelming pleasure.

he moved, holding your hands through your orgasm, fucking the intensity out slowly and settling you down. he watched as you breathed, waiting for your panting to come to a halt before he picked up his speed again so he could find his own climax. you held him close to you, feeling him hard inside you and giving out light moans upon the feeling of strange friction against your walls.

you could tell when he was getting close, considering his movement become even more stuttered and erratic when he was about to lose himself in you.

he knew better than to cum in you, though. before he could reach his high, he pulled out of you and moved away slightly, his hand going down to pump at his length instead. you blinked—right, you forgot, you two did not use protection. the whiny sounds coming out of seungmin’s mouth helped you come back to your senses and you quickly sat up.

you replaced his hand with yours, an amused gleam evident in your eyes when he stared at you with confusion while being pushed down on the bed by your hand.

you leaned your body down, pumping him to keep him aroused while you found a comfortable position to lay on, and without a second thought, you took him in your mouth. he hissed in surprise, his thighs flexing at the lukewarm sensation of your mouth around his cock, as well as the gentle suction of your inner-cheeks. he pressed his head against the pillow, his mouth hung ajar with whimsical huffs as he buried his hand on your hair, needing something to grab onto as you sucked him off.

the way his cock disappears into your mouth, his tip poking at your cheek with each bob of your head, and how you choked around him when his tip hit the back of your throat was a bliss all too intense for him to handle at once. what was he to do—he knew he could not hold on much longer.

he has never felt his way before, his own hand was inadequate to provide the satisfaction you were giving him. the licks of your tongue, the graze of your teeth, the wrap of your lips; nothing could compare to this, he was drowning in abandonment and this was no false heaven.

his hip bucked into your mouth when he emptied himself in it, a loud groan leaving his lips. you let out a strangled noise of surprise when the bitter taste hit your throat, your eyes widening in dismay but you made yourself take all of him. you sucked all the way back up to his tip, your lips popping off with an audible noise, then you reached up to wipe away the saliva away. you panted, his cum slowly dripping down your throat, and you smiled at him when he looked at you.

“that was…” he licked his lower lip for a second, then he decided against talking and instead raised his arms to beckon you closer to him. “come here.”

you moved over to him, your body slumping down next to his as he brought you into his arms. your lips locked for the millionth times tonight, unable to get enough of each other when each time there was a new taste to the kiss you shared.

“that was my first time,” you commented after pulling away, laying your head on his arm.

“so was mine,” he said, even though you knew.

you sighed then, a blissful sigh. “i’m glad it was with you.”

“so am i,” he whispered against your temple, and when he felt that you wanted to make a joke out of his words, he held you tighter against him and he scoffed. “you know what i mean.”

you giggled, “i do… i just want to make fun of you while i still can.”

“i can’t believe i am about to say this but,” he paused for dramatic effect, “you can make fun of me whenever you want to.”

“you’re right!” you exclaimed, turning on your side so you could look at him. “after you debut, if i catch you doing anything embarrassing on variety shows, i hope you know i will never let you live it down.”

“hey, that’s not fair,” he whined. “one of the main elements in variety shows is to embarrass their guest.”

“yeah, that’s why they can be so unfunny sometimes,” you muttered.

he laughed along with you. that was all he could do; talk about the future as if it wouldn’t be painful, talk about it in light-hearted ways until you could surely let it go.

he caressed your cheek with his thumb, his eyes unable to leave your face. “i’ll come back to you. i don’t know how long you will have to wait, but i promise i’ll find the time.”

“text me a lot?” you asked. he nodded.

“and call me, it doesn’t have to be face time but call me,” you asked. he nodded.

“don’t fall in love with other people,” you asked.

“i won’t,” he answered this time.

and there was nothing more you needed from him.

you sighed, snuggling closer to his warm body so you could breathe with your head on his chest. even though you might wake up finding yourself alone in his room and your head on a pillow, the hollowness stronger than ever, you still moved closer to him. falling asleep to his heartbeat was worth waking up to his ghost.

“then just stay with me now.”

stay with me until you leave me.

seungmin can do that.

#stayverse #stayhavennet #inkidz #stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids dark hours #skz dark hours #seungmin smut #kim seungmin smut

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plant-flwrs · 4 years

Text

house unity // fred weasley

masterlist!

a/n: this story has taken me so long and i feel like i’ve poured my blood, sweat, and tears into it. i love it a lot and you can really tell what i was watching/ doing in each sections lol. for example, the dramatic ending is courtesy of the heart wrenching sylvia plath poems i was reading earlier today lol :’) also i made the reader a ravenclaw because im a ravenclaw and i felt like it hehe. n e way! hope you all like it and pls leave feedback if you have any! like, rb, follow <3

summary: Fred Weasley and you have a bit of a love hate relationship, however, on Fred’s behalf its more love than hate. Dating a Ravenclaw would be a great stride in house unity, wouldn’t it?

(disclaimer: when i describe the differences in the twins i mean the actors! especially since she who shall not be named did not give us much about their physical differences >:/ i found the info from fandom.com so it may be wrong, but i went with it. also, i made up a few things for this story, like the annual Christmas ball)

(8.7k)

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You wished you could enjoy some things as easily as your peers could.

You didn’t like most sweets from Honeydukes, you didn’t care for Quidditch, but you especially hated the Weasley twin’s pranks.

In your first year, just weeks after arriving at Hogwarts, you had met Fred and George. You had been unable to answer the riddle to enter the Ravenclaw common room, so you decided to take a walk around the grounds.

You just turned the corner to the courtyard, when a hard snowball hit you square in the face. The sheer force of it made you stumble backyards, and you barely had time to wipe the snow off your face before another one hit you hard in the back. You were unable to keep your balance and tumbled forwards. Your hands braced your fall and scraped against the rough stone harshly. Your palms stained the snow red as they began to bleed. You barely had time to nurse them before another snowball, this time the size of a Quaffle, plummeted onto your head. It pushed you face-first into the snow, and you recovered quicker, not wanting to stay there for any longer. You whirled around, looking for anyone who could have seen who did that. You saw two boys with flaming red hair running away, and you followed them.

You caught them just before they entered the castle, all three of you winded. They were twins.

“Did you see who did that? Was it you?” you had pried, and both of them looked giddy.

“What’d you mean?” the shorter of the two answered immaturely.

The other looked down at your hands and robes, seeing blood still flowing from your palms, and your stained tights. He glanced at his brother, who was still laughing about it all and shoved his shoulder.

“You git,” he mumbled to his brother, “she’s bleeding,” he took your hands in his and tried to wipe some of the blood off, only for it to stain the sleeves of his sweater.

“Oh, gross!” the shorter one exclaimed, backing away from the two of you.

“How did you two do that?” you asked, pulling your hands away from the kinder one.

“Bewitched ‘em,” the short one said arrogantly before his brother could stop him.

“You bewitched them to attack me?” you felt tears stinging your eyes and hoped the taller one wouldn’t notice that too.

“Well, we didn’t mean ‘em to go after you,” the kind one said quickly, trying to rub the blood out of his shirt.

“Yeah, but it was still a laugh,” the shorter one said, nudging his brother’s shoulder good spiritedly.

“Shut up, Fred,” he mumbled, obviously annoyed, “we’re sorry about your hands, we didn’t mean for it to happen, honest.”

Fred watched you silently as you swallowed hard, only able to nod at them, accepting the boys’ apology. You turned on your heal and went to the infirmary, hoping Madam Pomfrey could mend your cuts. You had wiped your tears all the way there.

In your third year, you had been told there would be a Christmas ball. You had been stuffed in a large room with the Gryffindors, and you bumped shoulder to shoulder with a boy who had long dreadlocks.

Professor McGonagall and Flitwick stood in the center of the room, a large record player was next to them.

“As some of you may know, there is an annual Christmas Ball here at Hogwarts,” Professor McGonagall explained, looking sharply at the Gryffindors.

“Professor McGonagall and I have a tradition,” Flitwick said, casting a glance at the Ravenclaws, “of holding a class on how to dance properly at these events.”

“Think of it as charity,” McGonagall said devilishly, “we wouldn’t want you to embarrass yourselves.”

Flitwick stifled a laugh and moved his wand to turn on the music. Loud, old-sounding music blared from the ancient device and you looked confused at your teachers.

“Everyone, pair up!”

An awkward haze fell over the room of third years. None of you knew how to talk to the opposite sex, let alone dance with them. You turned to look around you, accidentally making eye contact with the Gryffindor boy with dreads. His eyes widened when they saw yours, and his friends behind you noticed. You looked at his friends, only to see Fred and George Weasley. You rolled your eyes at the two, but their friend was jolted forwards.

He bumped into you, Fred having pushed him lightly on the back.

“Go on Lee!” Fred shouted, laughing loudly.

People were moving to the center of the room in pairs, and Lee looked at you nervously. He held his hand out to you.

“Want to dance?” He asked you shyly.

You took his hand with worry, nervous about the wicked grin the twins had. That grin always worried you.

You let Lee lead you out to the floor, falling in line with everyone else. You both watched McGonagall looking around for a partner for her to demonstrate with.

Fred’s obnoxious laugh cut through the room, and her eyes landed on him.

“Perfect! Mr. Weasley, come be my partner.”

He groaned and moved forwards, his brother laughing loudly. Beside you, Lee had a wide smile.

“Place your hand on my waist,” she said flatly.

“Your what?” he repeated, his eyes going wide.

“My waist, don’t be daft,” she replied, moving his hand to the right place.

It seemed everyone’s cheeks had gone red due to stifled laughter. Lee bumped into you as he doubled over, not trying to contain himself.

In your fifth year, you were made a prefect.

You were hesitant to accept the position, feeling a bit tied down by the prat status that came with the responsibility.

Wearing your slightly dusted badge, you had never polished it like you saw Percy doing every second of his life, you led a group of Ravenclaw first years up the stairs.

“Right this way,” you shouted over their heads, making sure no one got lost.

“Who had the sense to make you a prefect?” Fred taunted, coming up from behind you and flicking your ear.

You moved to swat his hand away, but he had already jumped back.

“Shove off, Fred,” you shot him a glare and turned back to the children, “the stairs can get a bit confusing, so watch your step!”

Fred watched you admirably, noticing the way your voice changed to a sweet sound when you spoke to anyone but him.

“Yeah, watch the stairs!” Fred shouted, pulling you by your elbow onto a new staircase.

The steps moved away from the first years, taking you and Fred to the opposite corridor you wanted to go down. You looked down and realized how close you were to the edge. Without thinking, you grabbed onto Fred’s robes, pulling him closer to you. He tilted forward and nearly lost his balance, which would have sent you both down. He flung his hand out and firmly held onto the railing, suspending the both of you over the edge for a moment before he pulled you back up. You were close to his chest, still holding onto him until the stairs stopped moving. You hadn’t meant to close your eyes, but when you finally opened them you saw your group of first-years looking at you from the other staircase, seeming absolutely terrified.

You leaped from Fred’s embrace, sending him stumbling back a bit. You marched up the stairs to loop back to the first years and heard Fred calling after you.

“Going so soon?” you heard his laugh echoing off the walls of the room.

For most of your life, your interactions with Fred Weasley were that simple. Maybe once a year you two would spit some insults at the other, and be on your way, not to speak to each other until next year.

However, when you walked into your Transfiguration class, late by a few minutes due to your prefect duties, you felt a punch in the gut when you saw flaming red hair.

The punch in the gut was increased tenfold when you saw that the only empty seat was next to the flaming red hair.

Breathing deeply and sending a fake smile his way, you sat uncomfortably next to Fred.

It would have been difficult to tell them apart, but your observant eye had always been able to. Besides a few odd growth spurts they were prone to, George usually came out the taller of the two. Fred also had a small scar on his left eyebrow.

“Oh hello, prefect,” Fred said lazily, drawing back in his chair and folding his hands behind his head.

The bottom of his shirt rose a little and you willed your eyes to not look at the toned bit of stomach that peeked through.

“Weasley,” you said, pulling your textbook out of your bag.

“Looking forward to your new prat duties?”

“More than I’m looking forward to sitting with you,” you pushed your hair behind your ear and out of your eyes, Fred stared at the side of your face.

“Always so charming,” he finally drawled, leaning forwards and tugging his sweater down.

Something about Fred always made you want the last word, the last laugh.

“Only for you, Fred.”

In professor McGonagall’s opinion, Fred Weasley had the littlest appreciation for time of all the students she had taught.

He wasted his time in the common room, in the Great Hall, and in the hallways.

Even during her Transfiguration class.

He was happy to spend his time with what he thought was shamelessly flirting with you, and McGonagall was happy to embarrass him while he did it.

“Mister Weasley?”

Fred turned to look at McGonagall’s severe face. Before he could say any excuse, insisting that you were talking too, she waved her wand at his desk. His book flew open to the right page, and a force that was not his own was pushing his head into the book. His hair fell in front of his face, and you could tell he was fighting against the spell McGonagall was using.

Fred seemed to be tamed by McGonagall after that and didn’t bother you for the rest of the class. On the way out, he held the door open for you. He called out to you in the hallway.

“Good luck with that weird rash, Y/n!” you felt your cheeks burn furiously as laughs sounded off in the hallway. You turned to see Fred watching you walk away, and lifted both of your middle fingers in the air to him.

“So classy!” he called back.

“Shove! OFF!” you yelled, shouting over the now deafening laughter in the hallway.

You were already dreading the upcoming months.

You were right to, for class with Fred did not get any easier.

You traded your thin tights for thicker ones and your light dress shirt for a heavy sweater. Your blue scarf was wrapped tightly around your neck, and you didn’t bother to pin your prefect badge on it these days.

“Miss, y/l/n, you must remember your badge,” McGonagall said as you came into class.

You looked down at your scarf, patting your robes until you felt the metal. Lifting up your scarf and showing the professor the badge underneath it, you gave her a reassuring smile.

She nodded approvingly and waved her hand, you moved to your seat.

Before you could put your things down, Fred was looking at you. You could hear the gears turning in his head, thinking of something presumably rude to say to you.

“Weasley,” you said first, hoping this would inspire him to stop looking at you.

He blinked at you, before smiling and turning back to his textbook.

“Today, we’re going to be learning a vanishing spell,” McGonagall started.

You had already turned to the page before she told it to you, you had read through the entire textbook over the summer.

You heard Fred scoff next to you, but ignored him.

Looking down at the directions in the book, you had remembered your successful attempt at making one of your father’s shoes disappear. He had been so proud of you, he didn’t care that he only had one brown Oxford instead of two.

“How did you do that?” Fred asked, watching as you easily made the rat in front of you vanish.

“Practice,” you said absently, turning your head to look back into the textbook.

Fred began to try the spell himself, his focus on the goblet he had taken from the great hall. He did the right wand movements, but his pronunciation was all wrong. You watched as the spell rebounded off the goblet and hit his tie, making the bottom half of it vanish. His hand flew to his chest, his mouth curved in a disbelieving grin when he didn’t feel the point of his tie.

“Well, bloody hell, that could have been much worse,” he gasped out, pushing his hair off his face and leaning back in his chair.

You couldn’t help the small nervous laugh that escaped your lips, but you were able to stifle it quickly. Fred had noticed your smile and glanced at you, happy to amuse you.

The two of you sat in silence for a bit, Fred regaining his composure after nearly vanishing himself. You pretended to read your book, but you had already read the page dozens of times. You wanted an excuse to not talk to Fred.

“Ever going to turn the page?” Fred asked from beside you, and you became very aware of his eyes on the side of your face.

“I’m absorbing the information,” you replied flatly, keeping your head in the book to hide your blush.

He laughed, sitting straight in his seat. He seemed to be attempting the spell again. You bit your lip as you watched him practice, wondering if you should correct him so he doesn’t hurt himself.

He had just begun to say the spell when you placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Wait!” he glanced at you and your hand on his shoulder, smirking at you.

“Yes, darling?”

You rolled your eyes and felt the urge to gag. Your face crinkled in disgust and Fred smiled.

“Your pronunciation is wrong.”

“Well go on then,” he said, urging you to continue.

“Evanesco,” you said simply, but Fred’s eyes wrinkled in confusion.

“That’s what I’m saying,” he said, turning back to the goblet but lowering his wand, “Evenesco.”

He had replaced the ‘a’ with an ‘e’ sound, but he hadn’t heard it, you supposed.

“It’s ev-an-es-co,” you said slowly, placing your pronunciation on the ‘an’, “you’re saying ev-en-es-co.”

His eyebrows raised, finally understanding. He repeated it to you slowly, and you nodded your head when he said it right.

He smiled confidently, casting the spell on his goblet. The goblet turned foggy, and Fred could wave his hand through it like it was a ghost.

He sighed heavily, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms.

“This is miserable,” he groaned.

You waved your wand and said the verbal part of the spell, finishing off the goblet. It completely disappeared and Fred let out another groan, rolling his head back in annoyance.

“You’re miserable,” he said to you teasingly.

You looked at him through your lashes, your brows furrowed, “Whatever, Fred,” your face grimaced in annoyance, “I’m just trying to help, your welcome, by the way.”

You pulled your bag onto your lap and began to pack up your books.

Fred let out a sigh like he was going to say something. You turned to him, but he merely shook his head.

“Forget it,” he said, seeming to be at a loss of words.

You stood from your seat the second McGonagall dismissed class, leaving Fred at your shared desk.

“She’s totally into me!”

“She hates your guts, mate,” George said, pulling his lips into a thin-lined sympathy smile.

Fred scoffed and shook his head, his long hair falling over his forehead.

“You don’t get it,” he pressed, determined to make George see.

“She looks like she wants to throw herself into the Forbidden Forest every time she sees you,” George replied, determined to stop his brother from future heartbreak.

“Whatever, just you watch,” Fred said, tossing his Quidditch broom from hand to hand and looking at the massive stands above them, empty for the practice, “in a few weeks she’ll be in one of those seats, cheering me on.”

“He’s lost it,” Harry mumbled to George as he walked past, baffled by Fred’s dazed look.

George nodded hastily, following Harry away from his lovesick brother.

Fred was not often detoured by anyone’s cautionary guidance, so the endless warnings from George slid off his ego like melted butter.

Fred had spent so much time in the last Quidditch match with his eyes glued to the Ravenclaw student section, looking for you, that he had barely hit any bludgers the entire game. Oliver had some tasteful words for him in the changing rooms, but it was no worse than his mother’s screaming.

You were not at the Quidditch match, you never were. You had always used the advantage of the empty castle to go to the kitchens. The elves were the only ones left there, and you liked talking with them. Some times Luna would join you.

It seemed you and Fred were going opposite directions while searching for each other at the same time.

No matter how many cookies Dobby shoved towards you and Luna, you could not get Fred out of your head.

You thought about his arms wrapped around you on the stairs, you thought about the way he could always make your cheeks burn, and you thought of the way his eyes poured into your face like it was the only thing he’d ever seen. You hated him. He was rude, arrogant, and annoying. He ran around your head constantly.

McGonagall had some choice words for Fred that night after the match. The sulking from the loss had been toned down, but the hushed sounds of Oliver’s feet pounding against the floor in his bedroom could be heard all the way from the common room.

“Where is Wood?” she burst through the portrait hole, still in her robes she wore to the match.

“He’s upstairs, why?” Harry replied, looking nervous.

“I need to have a word with him,” she cast a glance at Fred, “and his methods of training his beaters.”

Fred and George both shot from where they sat on the couch.

“What?” George yelled.

“Don’t take that tone with me, Mister Weasley,” she squinted at them, “whichever one of you was looking around at the Rave-” she stopped before she could finish her sentence as if she had an epiphany.

Her pursed lips twisted into an evil looking smile.

“You know, Mister Weasley,” she took a step towards the boys and spoke to them only, “dating a Ravenclaw would show great strides in house unity,” Fred’s eyes bulged out of his head and George was already turning pink with laughter, “perhaps then you could focus on Quidditch again.”

George was nearly purple due to lack of air, and Harry’s mouth was agape in shock as McGonagall whisked her robes and swiftly climbed back out of the portrait hole.

“What is she on about?” Harry asked George.

Fred flopped onto the couch and covered his face with his hands. His life was over. If McGonagall could catch onto something like that, couldn’t you? You hadn’t started to flirt back, and Fred was beginning to wonder if George was right about your feelings towards him.

Soon enough, George was spouting everything McGonagall had said before he could catch his breath. He told anyone in the common room how much you hated Fred, and how much he desperately fancied you. Fred figured there was no use to stop him, because once again, if McGonagall could catch on, couldn’t everyone else?

Sunday morning was always rough for you. You pulled your heavy quilt closer to your cold cheeks, hoping for the sun to go back down and the weekend to restart. It never did.

You slipped on a pair of jeans and a tight turtle neck. Still feeling the cold air of the castle seeping through, you pulled on a sweater over the turtle neck. You tugged on some wool socks and pulled the fabric of the shirt as high up your neck as it would go.

You and Luna had plans to go to Hagrid’s hut today, he had promised her some magical flower seeds he had found in his garden. You liked to spend time with Luna, she was an easing presence and you always knew how to talk to her, even if most people didn’t.

You clutched an old muggle novel to your chest, hoping to trap some of your body heat. The hallways were surprisingly crowded for a Sunday morning, and you glanced at your watch, seeing breakfast had just ended.

You noticed that a lot of students with red ties were looking at you oddly. They would see you and smile widely, as if you were a new friend to them. You kept your head down until you met Luna in front of the great hall.

“Did you hear the news?” she asked before she even greeted you.

“What?”

“I just saw Harry, he said McGonagall told Fred to ask you out.”

You laughed, expecting her to do so as well. She didn’t and her face stayed stoic. She began to walk outside.

You were locked into place for a second before you jumped into line with her.

“What?” you repeated.

“Harry told me-” she began, but you waved your hands, cutting her off.

“No, I heard you, but what do you mean? What did McGonagall say?”

Luna had to have finally gone loony.

“He told me that after they lost Quidditch yesterday, she came in looking for Fred, she said he was quite distracted during the match,” she said, looking dreamily at you, “and she said something about how dating a Ravenclaw would be great for house unity,” Luna finished, toying with the tote bag at her side.

“Why did Harry think the Ravenclaw had to be me?” you asked, thinking there was a huge misunderstanding.

“Oh, well,” she said like she had forgotten a large part of the story, “after George heard what McGonagall said, he lost it. Harry said he laughed so hard he cried,” Luna giggled to herself while imagining the sight, “and he told everyone in the common room that Fred fancied you.”

Your face turned bright red with anger and embarrassment. The entire Gryffindor house had been laughing all night because George said Fred fancied you.

You were about to burst into protests, insist that it’s not true, but a gaggle of second years wearing red ties all pointed at you, talking among themselves.

You stepped towards them, making sure your prefect badge was visible. You watched their eyes flash down to the blue pin, and back up at your face, eyes wide. They scurried off and you fell back into place with Luna.

“That was rude of them,” Luna said, looping her arm with yours.

“Yeah,” you said quietly under your breath, your mind cloudy with thoughts.

You and Luna walked quietly out to Hagrid’s. You glanced up and saw the last person you had wanted to see.

Fred and George stood at the point where the path diverged to the Quidditch pitch and Hagrid’s hut, throwing a little flame-like ball to each other, bouncing it off their arms, feet, and chests. A small group of some younger kids had huddled around them, ‘ooing’ and ‘awing’ at each pass.

Fred had a large smile on his face, and the sight of it made your stomach churn with nerves.

You ducked your head down, hoping you and Luna would pass without a problem. You would not.

“Hi Fred,” Luna lifted a hand to wave at him, and the small light fell onto the ground as Fred saw you, “hi George.”

George smiled evilly at the sight of his brother nervously looking anywhere but you.

“Fun looking game your playing,” Luna said, trying to stop to talk, but you dragged her along.

“See you later Luna, Y/n!” George called out to the two of you, the laughter obvious in his voice.

“Why didn’t you want to talk to them? You could have asked Fred about what Harry said,” Luna asked you soothingly, looking at you curiously.

“I don’t know,” you sighed, feeling very overwhelmed, “it’s weird. I don’t even know what happened but the thought of it is so weird,” you paused, trying to grasp the words, “I mean, Fred can’t like me. We detest each other, its fun.”

“Well, do you like him?” she had asked the one question you were avoiding.

Fred had always been a thorn in your side. Ever since you met him he was rude. He never apologized for anything, he laughed, poked, and prodded at you for his own amusement. Yet, whenever you saw his soft-looking hair, you swallowed hard. When he inched closer to you, even just to whisper something rude, you felt your chest tighten. He looked at you, and you could swear he actually cared about what you were saying. Maybe detest was a little strong, perhaps just annoyed.

Granted, he was a teenage boy, and you are a teenage girl, mixed messages are bound to be sent. You thought you had been clear with your messages to Fred, though. “Leave me alone,” nothing bitter, nothing kind, just the wish to be left alone. Of course, Fred did not read your message that way. The enticing message he got was more along the lines of: “I’m going to pretend I want you to leave me alone, but please, don’t. Chase me through the hallways, confess undying love for me, kiss me passionately”. Now, it is entirely possible that Fred’s interpretation was a little clouded by his own wants and wishes, but this did not stop him.

The talk of the castle, for at least the following school week, was you and Fred.

You had never been whispered about, pointed at, or thought of like this. Fred seemed to be enjoying it.

In class Monday, Fred pretended nothing had happened. He swung his arm over the back of your chair and waited for the look of disgust to flash across your face, which it did, and he chuckled to himself.

Soon enough, the whispers and pointing had subsided, and they were replaced by odd looks as if they were disbelieving of something.

Luna found you in the courtyard sitting under a tree and skipped over to you.

“You hadn’t told me Fred asked you out,” she wiggled her eyebrows, “officially.”

Once again, you laughed, but she did not. She sat in front of you, crossing her legs.

“Oh my-” you trailed off, lifting your head to look at Luna, “what’s happened now?”

“Hermione told me that Fred has been raving to everyone about how you’re dating.”

Your eyes were wild with disbelief. You couldn’t have even comprehended what was going on at this school these days.

“Well, no one’s told me that we’re dating,” you said, your voice riddled with annoyance.

In perfect timing, Fred, George, and Lee bounded from the school and out to the courtyard. They were laughing and shoving each other, looking to be having a great time.

You stood from the ground, dusting off your pants and walking over to the three with fury.

“Fred!” you called out to him, and he stopped and turned to you.

A look of fear flashed on his face, but he covered it with something else, was it admiration? Love?

You clenched your jaw and narrowed your eyes, stepping close to him. He tilted his head down to look at you, a small smile on his lips.

Around you, George, Lee, and Luna stood with their arms crossed, watching intently.

Your bodies were almost touching, and your finger stabbed into his chest.

“Who do you think you are?” you said in a hushed tone through gritted teeth.

Once again, Fred’s face fell for a moment, before he wrapped his arms around your waist in some sort of embrace. You squirmed from his touch and backed away from him.

“Who do you think you are?” you repeated, this time louder. George and Lee flinched from behind you.

“What do you mean, sweetheart?” he asked sweetly.

Your face twisted with confusion, what is he on about?

“What?”

He continued, stepping closer to you.

“Are you feeling okay?” he asked earnestly, moving to rub his hand on your arm.

He was trying to flip the script, make you feel crazy.

“Fred, you’ve lost it, really,” you replied, walking back to the tree to gather your books.

“Maybe when you’ve regained consciousness,” you walked back up to him, keeping your distance, “or the effects of whatever potion you took start to wear off, please try to explain what is going on.”

You walked away from them, leaving Fred with a wicked smile.

“Alright, see you later!” he called out to you.

You turned your head to look at him, your hair blew in front of your face but Fred could see your puzzled expression. His smirk grew wider and he turned to George, Lee, and Luna. They looked awfully concerned.

“Oh,” he placed his hands on his hips, “isn’t she great?”

You had gotten to Transfiguration early, your prefect duties switched for the week. You crossed your legs and placed a book on them, reading discretely while McGonagall was still in her office.

Just as she began to address the class, Fred strolled in, hands in his pockets. He slipped into the seat next to you and you bookmarked your page. You scooted your chair in and slipped the worn book into your bag, listening to McGonagall begin her lecture. Monday’s were often boring lecture days in Transfiguration.

You heard the screech of Fred’s chair on the floor, and in the corner of your eye saw him moving closer to you. He rested his elbow on the desk and placed his chin in his palm. He leaned close to you.

“Hello,” he whispered, and you could hear the smile in his voice.

You ignored him, dipping your quill into your ink in case McGonagall said something note-worthy.

“What’s ‘a matter,” he paused as if he was thinking of the most annoying thing to say to you, “darling?”

You audibly gagged, and his smile widened.

“What do you want?” you caved, asking him.

“Oh nothing,” he leaned back in his chair, still whispering to you, “just for you to be my girlfriend.”

You went rigid. Your face suddenly got very warm. You lost grip of your quill and it toppled over your ink, sending dark liquid across the desk and onto your white sleeve. You cursed loudly out of reflex and it caught McGonagall’s attention.

“Excuse me, Miss Y/l/n?”

Everyone turned to look at you and Fred in the back of the room, some people smirking. Fred stayed leaned back in his chair, watching you.

“I’m sorry Professor,” you stumbled out, wiping both the ink and your sleeve at the same time, making both things worse, “I just-”

Fred pulled his wand out from beside you and did a simple cleaning spell, you supposed. The ink receded back into its bottle and the stain on your sleeve disappeared. McGonagall watched him intently.

“Very resourceful Weasley, Miss Y/l/n, please don’t disrupt my class again,” she said curtly, returning to the lesson.

You heard a few snickers from your classmates, your face still a deep shade of red. You swallowed hard as you felt your heart beating in your ears.

Fred leaned forward again so his mouth was aligned with your ear.

“What do you say?” he whispered.

“What are you talking about Fred? Why are you doing all this?” you asked, straining to keep your desperate voice in a whisper.

“I’m only having some fun,” he replied as if he hadn’t been making your life a living hell for the past weeks.

You shot him a pleading look, and when he saw your flushed cheeks and watery eyes, his face softened.

“Hey,” he placed a hand on your knee, a knot formed in your throat and shivers went down your arms, “I didn’t mean to-” he trailed off and your jaw clenched. You returned your gaze to the front of the class.

“Listen, I’ve just been,” he paused, searching for the words, “I’ve been playing a sort of prank. On everyone but us.”

His tone was soft and playful as if he were letting you in on a secret. You supposed he was.

You raised your eyebrows, pressing him to continue.

“Well, George basically told everyone in our house that I fancy you, so I wanted to have some fun with it, switch it on them.”

You pressed your eyebrows together, still looking to the front of the room while Fred was inches away from your ear.

“I’ve told everyone we’re dating,” he said plainly, “house unity and all, as McGonagall said.”

“So that was true? What Harry told Luna?” you said before you could stop yourself, happy to finally get answers.

“Well, I don’t know exactly what Harry said, but I’m sure he didn’t leave anything out.”

“Why did George tell everyone that? That you,” you trailed off, feeling the words choking in your mouth, “that you fancy me?”

“Because I do,” he said quickly, and just as quickly moved on, “so what do you say? Want to be my girlfriend-” he paused, realizing what he had just said, “well, my girlfriend of sorts, not like my real girlfriend, because I’m sure you wouldn’t want to, and-” he stopped himself.

This time it was his turn for his cheeks to burn and his eyes to awkwardly avoid yours.

“Why do all this? Seems a lot for a joke that no one but us will laugh at,” you said, trying to ignore his confession.

“I’m willing to go to the ends of the Earth for a joke, my dear.”

Fred was dreadfully serious when saying that, and this became clear within hours.

Walking past the Dungeons and up the many stairs to your common room, you heard Fred call out to you.

“Wait up!” he was breaking away from a large group of Gryffindors, and all of them watched him with a keen eye,

“What, Fred?”

“Hey, that's not a very girlfriend-y tone,” he wrapped his arm easily around you.

You were sure it was meant to be sweet, but it felt a bit imprisoning.

“I never agreed to this,” you didn’t shake off his arm, but you felt inclined to. You were aware of the many eyes pouring into your back.

“I thought we had? Oh,” his arm left your shoulder, and you felt a little colder, “well then I suppose I could leave it all be, go back on my word, humiliate myself.”

His tone was a playful one, and you couldn’t help the bashful smile that reached your cheeks. You knew you had no obligation to Fred, but the whispers and gossip had seemed to subside during this new joke of his. You stopped at the landing, and the group of Gryffindors walked past you, staring at you both. Fred waved them off and nodded his head towards you, smiling.

“Why should I?” you clutched some textbooks to your chest, feeling grateful for the wall it put between you and Fred. He looked down at you, his hair falling into his forehead.

“Well,” he stuffed his hands in his pockets, inching closer to you, “as I said, I just think it could be a bit of fun.”

“Fun for you. What’s in it for me?”

“What? Besides utter fame and popularity from being associated with me?”

“Oh shove off, Fred,” you rolled your eyes at him, but once again could not help the smile that spread across your face.

“See? I’m growing on you already.”

“I’m still seeing no benefit for me.”

“Well, I do see where your coming from, but I’d like to raise another point,” he slipped a hand from his pants and waved it casually while talking, “I will indeed pretend like we are dating even if you don’t.”

“So essentially, you would just be flirting with me while I hurl insults at you?”

He nodded enthusiastically.

“Is that the image you want, Fred?” you teased.

You moved to lean against the wall behind you, and Fred trailed after you.

“Any image is a good one,” he winked dramatically at you.

You shrunk away from him and gagged, sending him into a fit of laughter.

“I hate it already.”

“So you’ll do it?” he asked.

You breathed in, looking at him seriously. His hazel eyes were dark in this light, his hair had gone a deeper red in the lack of warm weather and sunshine. He towered over you slightly, and you looked at him through your lashes.

Shrugging your shoulders, you agreed weakly.

Fred saw the error of his thinking almost immediately. Walking through the hallways with you, he felt his heart soar higher and higher each time you laughed. When you would loosen up, or walk a little closer to him. He was being awfully unfair to himself, making himself think that you had something, some sort of relationship. It was like dangling a treat in front of a dog and wanking it away right when the dog drooled.

He saw the flaming house, and still walked in, looking for a place to sleep.

“Why, hello,” Fred drawled, coming up from behind you in the hall.

You felt his hand snake around your waist, and he pulled you. Your feet twisted from under you and you twirled, turning to face him. Your hair had skewed into your face, and he watched your delicate hand reach up to brush it away.

You looked dazed as if you had a lot on your mind. He smiled down at you and you did your best to reciprocate it.

“Are you alright?” he asked, dropping his hand from your hip.

“Yeah, just-” you took a deep breath in, “just got a lot of homework, been a bit busy with my prefect stuff.”

This was not what was bothering you. You felt a lot of inner conflicts these days, an endless moody and angsty monologue sounding off in your head day and night. You felt odd. You felt odd for agreeing to Fred’s stupid plan. You felt odd for toying with him and yourself. You had disliked him just last month, and now you let him wrap his arm around your shoulder, let him hold your waist. You felt like a traitor to yourself, letting him win you over with a few charming looks. You felt even worse when you thought of Fred’s confession. He had said he fancied you, and the idea of pretending to date him didn’t alarm you for some reason. You hated the feeling of toying with his emotions or allowing him to live out some sort of fantasy. Everything about it made you feel awful.

You didn’t feel as awful, though, when Fred would call out a comment from across the dining hall that would make your cheeks burn and all the other girls swoon. You didn’t feel as awful when he would sit in silence with you by the black lake, keeping you company among the chilling wind. You didn’t feel as awful when he slipped little notes into your bag when you left Transfiguration.

You had enough, one too many genuine looks of admiration. You needed to tell Fred how you felt.

You caught him on his way back from Quidditch practice. He was trailing near the end of the group, huddled with George and Harry. He had some dirt on his forehead, and his cheeks were tinted pink. He smelled of grass and sweat.

You pulled your cardigan tighter around you, wishing you had brought your scarf. Your hair whipped in the wind around you, and you rocked on your feet.

You began walking to him, and when he saw you he smiled widely.

“Hey!” he called out, walking faster to meet you.

“Hi,” you said nervously.

“I’ll meet you guys back in the common room,” he told George and Harry, who glanced over their shoulders at the two of you.

It was dusk and he looked strikingly handsome. You felt like you were seeing him as a different person. He wasn’t the boy who bewitched snowballs to attack you, he wasn’t the boy who laughed at your scraped hands. He wasn’t the boy who shoved Lee at you, and he wasn’t the boy who awkwardly danced with McGonagall. He was the boy who held you in his arms, stopping you from falling over the stairs. He was the boy who looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered in the world, he was the boy who held you above anything else.

Your mouth was agape as you looked at him, he stood awkwardly waiting for you to say something. You looked at the ground, licking your lips and feeling them dry as soon as the cold air grazed them again.

“I wanted to talk to you,” you said quietly, hoping your voice would fade into the wind and carry you away.

“What’s up?” he looked down at you nervously.

“Fred, I-” he cut you off, placing a hand on your arm.

“You can’t do this anymore?” he looked deeply at you but you couldn’t meet his eyes.

You didn’t want to have this talk anymore, you felt content, suddenly, in pretending. You could both pretend to love each other until it wasn’t pretending. The lines would blur and soon, his kisses would come easily and his hands would have their place on you. You would touch his soft hair and know his eyes only looked at you. But you had already said the words, or rather, he did.

“I just,” you kicked the dirt beneath you, hoping he would finish your sentence again, he didn’t.

“I don’t think its fair,” you looked up at him finally and felt surprised to feel tears in your eyes, you blinked, forcing them to subside, “to either of us.”

You heard him gulp, and his eyes moved to look at the castle behind you. The candles had been lit and the stone glowed from the inside.

“I get it,” he said, removing his hand from your arm.

You looked down at where his hand had been and felt a tear drip down your cheek.

“Fred-”

He shook his head, pulling his mouth into a line. You stopped talking, feeling the words stuck in your heart.

You really wished you hadn’t said anything. You wished you could pretend again.

He walked past you, leaving you in the dusk. You hadn’t meant to, but a sob escaped your mouth. You heard his feet shuffle for a moment, and stop. He walked back to you.

He had finally been able to fall asleep among the fire, and it seemed you had come to join him at some point. He didn’t know when, but looking at you now, it seemed you had been burning for a while.

“What’s got you so torn up about this?” he said gently, stopping a few paces away from you, “Didn’t fall in love with me, did ya?”

A laugh fell from your lips at the same time another sob did. Your shoulders hunched over more, and Fred’s heart hurt him. He walked to you, placing a hand on your shoulder. You turned to face him, and you both moved at the same time. He pulled you close into his chest and your cheek pressed against him. He smelled, he was dirty, and he was tired, but he still held you tighter than you had ever been held before.

You pulled away from him after a while, coming to terms with yourself in the moment of affection. You wiped your tears from your face with your sleeve, taking a few deep breaths.

“I think,” you hiccuped, feeling it hard to speak, “I think that the pretending was too hard.”

Fred felt guilt wash over him. He felt guilty for himself, because you had said exactly what he was feeling. He couldn’t stand to pretend, to keep himself from gripping your hand, or from kissing you any chance he got. He wanted it all to be real, he wanted this wall between you to crumble into a genuine relationship. He felt guilty for making you feel this way. He felt guilty for pressuring you into this allusion of intimacy. He hadn’t stopped to consider if this would be negative for you, only insisting it would all work out for the best.

As he watched your uneven breathing and swollen nose and eyes, he knew this was not the best.

He breathed hard, forcing himself not to cry as he looked at you. George was supposed to be the sensitive one, but Fred had always been a sympathetic crier.

“Me too,” he replied, his voice sounding far, far away.

You looked at him, feeling terrified. The cold air was moving through you liked you were transparent. Tears kept flowing down your face, and no matter how fast you dried them, you only cried more. Your head felt miles away from your body, so you stepped closer to him, hoping to step closer to yourself too.

“I don’t think I want to pretend,” you croaked out.

He blinked at you, and you saw a single tear fall down his cheek. He didn’t move to brush it away, and it moved slowly. It left a clean mark on his dirt-stained face.

You took a step towards him, covering your hand with your sleeve. You cupped the back of his neck with one hand and brought your sleeved hand to his cheek. You wiped the tear and the dirt away, but your hand didn’t move. You peaked your fingers from your sleeve and they grazed his face. His eyes fluttered closed and your throat tightened as more tears poured from your eyes. Your vision was blurry as you traced his face, moving over his nose, eyebrows, and lips. You stopped to cup his cheek, and he leaned into your palm. You felt the wetness of more tears fall onto your hand, and you bit your lips, holding in a wretched noise.

“Fred?”

His eyes fluttered open, and you realized his hands had found their way onto your waist, he held you tightly.

“Do you want to pretend?” you asked him.

He moved his head from your cheek and kept his wet eyes locked with yours.

“I want you,” his voice was hoarse and sad, but that was all you needed to hear.

You buried your face into the crook of his neck and he wrapped his arms around you tightly.

The dusk had turned into the night, and you pulled away from Fred. You looked up at him and swallowed away the tears that remained. You began to walk past him and up to the castle. He followed you quickly.

You were scared. You had safety in pretending, knowing this was all something for fun. But as you looked at Fred now, you saw something deeper. You saw the threat of genuine love and connection, the threat of heartbreak.

Neither of you wanted to go without the other tonight, you had decided. You wordlessly followed him to his common room, and he slipped his hand into yours. You had both ducked into a prefect bathroom on the way there, looking at yourselves and covering your swollen eyes.

He said the password to a portrait of a large lady, and she looked suspiciously at you both.

“Are you two alright? You’ve just about missed curfew,” she said, her voice booming through the staircase.

“Yeah, we’re alright, just tired from practice, is all,” Fred reassured her, and the door swung open. He walked in first, and you followed.

You relished in the warmth of the spacious room, feeling drawn to the fireplace. You walked over to it and sat on a large couch. The room was relatively empty, a few kids hunched over books.

Fred sat next to you, still in his Quidditch robes. He grabbed your legs with his hand and guided them to rest on one of his legs, hanging over it. This angled your body to him, and he moved his arm to wrap around you.

“When did you realize?” he asked, his face lit by the fire.

“Just then, when you walked up to me after your practice.”

His chest moved with a chuckle and you moved your head to looked up at him.

“Well that's a little embarrassing for me,” he said, pushing a piece of your hair out of your face while you gazed up at him, “I've known since I met you.”

“Shut up, no you didn’t,” you said lightly, assuming he was trying to be some sort of romantic and inflating the truth.

“I did,” he said seriously, “I teased you for so long for a reason.”

“Because you’re an idiot?”

“Yes.”

You both laughed, pulling each other closer.

“And because I liked you.”

You rolled your eyes, sinking deeper into him. You felt yourself getting tired and you peered up at him. His eyes were half-closed and his face was drooping.

“Fred, you’re tired, why don’t you go to bed,” you began to move off of him, but he pulled you back.

“Only if you make me a deal,” he said mischievously.

“What?”

“I’ll go upstairs and take a quick shower, but only if you come with me,” he replied.

“I am not showering with you, pervert,” you smacked his arm and stood from the couch, blushing furiously.

He smiled and grabbed your hand, turning it to kiss your palm. You shivered at his touch.

“No, just come lay with me,” he looked up at you, suddenly serious, “I want to be with you tonight.”

Your heart sank to your stomach and you bit your lip. You couldn’t speak, so you nodded your head slowly.

Fred fished his wand from his robes and waved it towards the stairs, performing the counterspell for the stairs. You followed him up to his room, where he put his finger to his lips, signaling for you to be quiet. When he cracked open the door, it was dark and the curtains for the beds had been drawn. He crept over to a chest at the foot of his bed and looked at you before turning to its contents. He pulled out two large pajama pants, both plaid, and two heavy sweaters. He tossed one of each on his bed and took the others with him.

“Here, you can sleep in these,” he whispered to you, and it felt like you would blush forever.

He smiled softly at you before closing the curtains for you, leaving you to change.

“Oi, mate,” you heard someone’s annoyed and hoarse voice, “what took you so long? Practice ended an hour ago.”

“I was talking with Y/n,” you heard the bathroom door open, “I’ll talk to you about it tomorrow, I’m gonna shower. And don’t wake me up for breakfast tomorrow, I want to sleep in.”

You smiled to yourself, holding the soft sweater in your hands. It had a large ‘F’ on it, and you traced your fingers over it. You slid out of your jeans and folded them, placing them on the floor by the trunk. You slid on the pants he gave you and silently laughed as they easily ran past your feet and dragged on the floor. You folded them at the waist, and they were still too long. You had just slipped on the sweater when Fred slid open the curtain. He watched you fold your shirt and place it with your jeans. His eyes trailed from his sweater to the way his pants covered your feet. He smiled widely and drew you closer to him by grabbing your hips.

You looked up at him, your chests pressed together. He brought one hand up to your jaw, tilting it up to align with his face. His lips parted and so did yours, the air between you becoming a mixture of your breaths. His was minty, he must have just brushed his teeth.

His thumb grazed your bottom lip, and he finally closed the space between you. His neck craned down to you, but when you stood on your toes he was able to stand straight. You pressed as close to him as you could, and so did he. His lips were warm against your cold ones. He felt the many places that had been chapped and bitten, running his tongue over them slowly. You sighed and ran your chilled hands up his sweater, feeling him shiver beneath you. Your fingertips grazed the muscles on his back, tracing every line you could feel.

You pulled away first, sinking down to stand flat on your feet and rest your forehead on his chest.

“I’m so glad we didn’t pretend to do that,” Fred laughed out, pulling you close to him.

You smiled and hugged him, before moving to the other side of the small bed. You both slid under the covers silently, thinking that if either of you said something, things would suddenly be awkward.

The lack of bed only made him hold you tighter, and the two of you fell asleep relatively soon.

You were awoken by the sounds of laughter. The curtains were still drawn, and Fred’s arm was still wrapped around you. Your leg was resting on him as he laid on his back, hugging you close to him. Your head lifted from his chest as you squinted your eyes.

“No, he said he wanted to sleep in, mate,” you heard George say. The door opened and you heard footsteps walking towards it.

“You think they finally told each other?” Lee asked George, pulling on a wool hat.

“I hope so, bloody awful letting Fred think he tricked us,” George said before closing the door behind them.

You smiled and let your head sink back onto Fred. He stirred and pulled you closer to him. Through the fabric of his sweater, you swore you could hear the steady rhythm of his heart.

#fred weasley #fred #weasley #weasely family #fred weasley fanfiction #weasley twins #fred weasely fic #weasley fic #fred fic #fred weasley imagine #fred imagine #fred x y/n #fred x ravenclaw #harry potter #hogwarts #ravenclaw #fred weasley x reader

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simplyclockwork · 3 years

Note

I love what you did with Sherlock stuck in the window frame. Sherlock trying to be arch and aloof still but a bit defeated and John caring and meeting Sherlock’s needs. I’d love to have a fic that is John shaving Sherlock (out of some sort of medical necessity) but it leads to intimacy or the promise of intimacy in the future. I know John shaving Sherlock has been done before, but I’m sure your take on it would add hugely to the greater good!

Hey anon! Thanks so much for your patience. I've finally filled this prompt. You can read it below the page break or on Ao3 here!

Please feel free to send future prompts anytime as long as you don't mind waiting a while for the fill.

Thank you :)

---

“Stop fidgeting,” John snapped as Sherlock wriggled for the umpteenth time under his ministrations.

Sherlock stopped with a huff. “I need to check on my experiment,” he protested, though he remained perfectly still. “You’re taking too long, John. You shave like a man who has never handled a blade before.”

“I may have handled a gun far more than a blade, but that doesn’t mean I won’t accidentally lop off your ear if you don’t sit bloody well still!” John gripped Sherlock’s shoulder and pressed him more firmly into the kitchen chair. “Lord above, are there snakes in your pants?”

“Hurry up, John!” Sherlock snarled, squirming once more.

John, trying valiantly to keep Sherlock from slitting his own throat on the razor pressed against the vulnerable expanse of his skin, jerked the blade back. “Christ, Sherlock, stop moving! The sooner you shut up and sit still, the sooner this will be over with.” He shot a baleful glare at the cluttered surface of their kitchen table. “What kind of experiment are you doing with one working hand — non-dominant, might I add — anyway?”

“One surely beyond your simple mind,” Sherlock replied peevishly, making John roll his eyes.

“You and your miserable mood can both sod off,” John grumbled, biting back harsher words and making a concerted effort to soften his reprimand.

Sherlock had been absolutely horrid ever since he’d broken nearly every bone in his dominant hand in a brawl with a murder suspect. The man had slammed his foot down on Sherlock’s hand when Sherlock slipped on the rain-wet street during their tussle. Recovery had been a slow and painful process as the splinted hand turned alarming shades of black and blue while the bones and tendons healed. John couldn’t honestly blame Sherlock for his mood, but that didn’t make him easier to deal with. He struggled with even the most basic tasks, leaving John to support him in mundane functions. It had begun to wear on them both — Sherlock far more than John as he took repeated blows to his independence — bringing out Sherlock’s nastier side.

Which brought them to that morning, to John’s day off from the surgery. He'd been woken just shy of six am by a petulant Sherlock, who had insisted that his stubble had grown far too coarse to abide any longer. He’d stood — loomed, more like — over John as John blinked the sleep from his eyes and watched Sherlock scratch agitatedly at his stubbly jaw, chin and cheeks. Now, here they were, with John making a valiant effort to shave Sherlock’s face while Sherlock squirmed with the force of five hundred angry snakes.

“Do I really have to do this with a straight razor?” John asked for the fifth time, already knowing Sherlock’s answer before it was bit out through bared teeth.

“Disposable razors are a farce,” Sherlock said, muscles flexing under his damp skin as his jaw clenched. “I require a closer shave, which is only possible with a straight razor.”

“Yeah, yeah,” John sighed, just as he had the four times before. “I know. Well, if you want me to do this, then you need to bloody well sit fucking still so I don’t cut your throat. Not even you would enjoy that murder.”

Sherlock muttered something that John missed.

“What?”

“I said, it would be manslaughter, not murder,” Sherlock snapped. “It’s only murder when it is premeditated.”

John pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and index finger, struggling not to lose the tenuous hold he still retained on his temper. “Who says it wouldn’t be premeditated?” John prayed for patience and opened his eyes again. “Stop clenching your teeth,” he ordered, smoothing his fingertips over Sherlock’s tense jaw. Sherlock sucked in a sharp breath and tensed more, making John sigh. “You’re impossible.”

“Just shave my face, John,” Sherlock muttered, some of the aggression mysteriously gone from his voice as he closed his eyes.

John shrugged and smoothed more shaving cream where his first application had dried. Sliding his fingers into Sherlock’s curls, John gently tilted his head back over the table and bent to set the razor against Sherlock’s skin. As he did, the sharp edge brushing Sherlock’s neck, Sherlock swallowed, making his throat bob beneath the blade. John paused warily, eyes fixed on the subtle motion. It seemed deeply vulnerable to him, inspiring an unexpected surge of protectiveness that caught him off guard.

He was still reeling with it when Sherlock cracked open one eye and squinted at him. “Something wrong?”

Did John imagine it, or did Sherlock’s voice sound strained? He studied the familiar face, searching for clues. But Sherlock had closed both eyes again, his expression perfectly blank.

“I haven’t got all day, John,” he reminded him sharply, though his voice lacked its earlier bite.

“Right,” John said, clearing his throat. He shook his head, banishing the strange feelings. “Of course. Wouldn’t want to keep you from your incredibly important tinkering.”

“Experiment, John,” Sherlock corrected him, the corner of his mouth twitching upward despite his admonishment.

“Mhm.” John refocused, his feelings of confusion somewhat settled by the familiar cant of their banter. He hesitated over Sherlock’s throat and decided to start somewhere else. Setting the blade at the top of Sherlock’s cheek, John carefully drew the razor’s edge through the shaving cream. It was much fancier than his own brand, which came in a can and looked more like whipping cream than shaving material. Predictably, Sherlock’s came from a bar, complete with a rounded brush to spread the lather. It smelled like pine and explained some of what John had come to think of as Sherlock’s natural scent.

Reigning in his wandering thoughts, his brow furrowed, John wiped the blade clean and set it back to Sherlock’s skin. He cleared a strip next to the first, pausing only when his left hand gave a slight twitch. John cursed his intermittent tremour silently, retracing the same area to erase the few spots he’d missed. A stubborn fleck of dried lather remained in his path, and John reached out to smooth it away with his thumb. Sherlock’s cheek twitched at the touch. John paused, thumb resting on Sherlock’s skin, when he saw that Sherlock’s eyes were open. Half-open, to be exact, with dark silver peeking out beneath his long, lowered lashes.

Something about that gaze froze John in place, the moment stretching out until he broke free with a quiet, awkward cough. Ducking his head to clean the blade again, John bought himself time, fussing with the flannel until he looked up again and saw that Sherlock’s eyes were closed once more. A relieved sigh escaped him before he could bite it back, and John was glad to see Sherlock didn’t react or comment on the sound.

He returned to his task with far more care, gritting his teeth at even the idea of his hand twitching. The rest of the foam disappeared gradually beneath John’s determined hand, revealing more and more of Sherlock’s damp, freshly-shaven face. Sherlock sat mostly still throughout, finally settled, his expression oddly peaceful. If not for the occasional shifting of his legs — crossing and uncrossing at the thigh whenever John paused to wipe the blade clean — he might have been a statue.

“Aright,” John finally said once Sherlock’s face was clear. “Just your throat left. Make sure not to move.”

“I’m not a toddler,” Sherlock grumbled, frowning at John’s incredulous laugh. He didn’t bother to reply, and John hoped that meant he would do as bid.

Taking a deep, calming breath, John braced a hand on the chair back, trying to find the right angle. It was awkward, and he reconsidered. After a moment of hesitation, he shook off his anxiety and cupped Sherlock’s jaw at the hinge. Sherlock’s eyes flew open at the contact, clearly startled, his lips parting around a small gasp. To John’s immense relief, he held still otherwise.

John chose to ignore the odd reaction, gently tilting Sherlock’s head back and to the side as he maneuvered the blade up the side of Sherlock’s throat. John did so with great care, tongue caught between his teeth, scared of slipping. All the while, he could feel Sherlock’s gaze on him, a burning point of scrutiny that John struggled not to squirm beneath. Instead, he wiped the blade and tilted Sherlock’s head again, repeating the movement.

Sherlock was silent as the grave throughout. The only sounds in the kitchen were his loud breathing and the slick, rasping scrape of the blade as it scored stubble from skin. The moment held a strange intimacy, like the two of them existed in a bubble, removed from the world with only each other for contact.

John was starting to think he might be going mad before he slid his hand to the nape of Sherlock’s neck and cupped the base of his skull to tilt his head back. As he did so, Sherlock’s eyes fluttered shut, and his throat jumped with an audible swallow. Startled, John’s grip tightened momentarily in the damp curls caught beneath his fingers, and Sherlock jolted with a quiet groan. The reaction was so visceral that John froze, staring down at Sherlock’s upturned face. His eyes were tightly shut, face screwed up in a grimace that looked strangely close to horrified.

“Sherlock?” John asked quietly, confused. Sherlock didn’t answer, just remained stiff and still. Under his hand, John thought he could feel a slight, constant tremour rippling through Sherlock. Brow furrowed, he studied Sherlock’s tightly wound body, gaze pausing on Sherlock’s legs, crossed together in a vice grip at the thigh. Was Sherlock…? No, that couldn’t be it. Surely John was misreading the situation. “Are you alright?” he prompted, and Sherlock sucked in a loud, shaky breath.

“I’m excellent, John,” he said in a strained voice, still with his eyes closed. “Are you nearly finished?”

“Just about,” John replied, trying and failing to shake off his growing suspicion. Clearly, Sherlock didn’t want to draw attention to whatever was happening to him. John could respect that. He’d had massages before. Some touches felt unexpectedly nice, and things happened with one’s body that one couldn’t always control. It was perfectly natural — though John had never thought of Sherlock as someone who felt ‘natural’ urges.

“Relax,” he said, waiting for Sherlock to stop clenching his jaw and facial muscles. It took a moment before everything slowly eased. However, Sherlock’s lower body remained steel-tense, and John could still feel those minute tremours beneath his hand. But Sherlock didn’t speak, keeping his eyes shut, so John didn’t comment on it.

Instead, he returned to the task at hand. Gently tugging at Sherlock’s curls to tilt his head back, John exposed the underside of Sherlock’s throat and jaw as he angled the blade at the edge of the lather. With the heel of his hand pressed against Sherlock’s skin to steady his grip, John felt the subtle twitch of muscle underneath as Sherlock swallowed again, his breath catching. Rather than let that strange, slight stutter catch him off guard again, John swiped the blade up, taking the last of the lather with it in one smooth, rasping stroke.

Then, following some instinct John couldn’t name, he set aside the blade and laid his hand over the freshly-shaved skin. Sherlock gasped at the contact, blood rushing into his face and darkening his pale cheeks. The touch was light, John’s fingers barely brushing the blade-reddened skin, but Sherlock’s response was like a man run through with an electric current, his body jolting from head to toe.

John held perfectly still, waiting to see what Sherlock might do, expecting him to pull away and rush off back to his experiment. But he did neither, sitting perfectly still — save for the tiny shivers twitching through his body — under John’s touch.

Emboldened by that silent faith, John swept his fingertips down the strip of skin he’d just shaved, feeling goosebumps rise in the wake of his caress. Sherlock’s shiver increased, the colour infusing his face darkening to a deeper, tantalizing flush. John watched, enchanted, as Sherlock’s eyebrows drew together, then upward and back down as a myriad of complex expressions flitted across his face. He turned his hand, cupping the side of Sherlock’s neck, tracing the rough line of Sherlock’s bobbing throat with the pad of his thumb, just to see what would happen.

Sherlock’s lips parted around a sigh that sounded both startled and strained, the tension in his face first intensifying, then easing slowly, as John repeated the motion. He stroked Sherlock’s throat in slow, smooth passes, his work-roughened skin catching briefly on the damp terrain. Under his fingertips, pressed below Sherlock’s jaw, John felt the soft vibration of Sherlock’s whimper, voiced from deep within his throat.

“Never realized you were so sensitive,” John murmured, awed and hardly noticing the blurred lines of their friendship passing them both by. Sherlock seemed even less cognizant of the change, head tilted back as he pressed into John’s touch, offering and baring his throat in a shocking display of trust.

It was that which nearly undid John entirely. But what erased the last of his hesitation was Sherlock’s eyelids fluttering open to reveal his darkened gaze. His pupils were blown wide, almost erasing the silvery shade of his irises.

“John,” he croaked in a voice as jagged as broken glass. His head was tilted back far enough that it nearly rested on the table behind him, the science equipment scattered over the surface seemingly forgotten for the moment.

The sound of his name, spoken with such desperation, cleared the last of John’s confusion. He let go of the last remnants of his denial, of his enforced blindness of how Sherlock was reacting to him. Because he was reacting to John, that much was clear, and there was no mistaking the meaning of that reaction.

Without speaking or wasting time on words, John cupped Sherlock’s face in his hands and bent down to brush their lips together. It was a bare ghost of contact, a tentative drifting of mouths, but Sherlock’s response was definite. He groaned and surged upward, his uninjured hand tangling in John’s hair and pulling him closer. Their noses bumped clumsily, Sherlock’s teeth scraping John’s bottom lip before their mouths slotted together in a fierce kiss. It was sloppy, turning even more so when Sherlock’s lips parted, and his tongue darted out.

John responded in kind, tasting Sherlock’s eager gasp as their tongues met. Sherlock panted against his mouth, the sound desperate and rushing in John’s ears. They kissed until their need for air grew too great, some uncounted seconds that broke as John turned his face to suck in a loud inhale, his lungs burning. Sherlock gasped in sympathy against his cheek before turning John’s face back to his to reclaim his mouth in another kiss. There was the sharp drag of teeth again, the sleek, hot press of tongue and lips, and Sherlock’s hand sliding out of John’s hair, down his nape to his broad shoulders. His splinted hand hovered, ineffective, just in front of John’s chest.

“Sherlock,” John murmured, forcing himself to think through the fog of arousal quickly obscuring his thoughts. “Sherlock, wait.”

They broke apart at once, Sherlock jerking his head back. His eyes were wide, pupils huge, his face twisting into an expression of watchful uncertainty. John — who realized he had, at some point, settled onto Sherlock’s spread thighs — blinked at that expression. Something very close to fear flickered in Sherlock’s blackened gaze, prompting a soft tsk from John.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he said, reaching out to smooth a tangled curl back from Sherlock’s forehead. “Everything is fine.”

Some of the tension in Sherlock’s rigid body — though not all — eased. “Is it?” he asked, his typically cultured voice turned rough. Less smooth velvet, more gravel. John thought he could get used to that change.

“Absolutely,” John murmured, offering a crooked smile. “Absolutely fine. But maybe we should, ah, slow down?”

Sherlock blinked up at him, hands settled on John’s waist, his forehead creased with a puzzled frown. “Why?”

John tilted his head and chuckled. “Well… I mean, we’ve only just had our first kiss. Are you sure you want to rush into things?”

A quiet scoff escaped Sherlock’s full lips. “We’ve lived together for several years, John. You’ve seen me naked a multitude of times—”

“Helping you shower and go to the loo when you’re injured isn’t really the same as an intimate relationship,” John interrupted, amused.

Sherlock waved his hand dismissively. “Semantics. Unimportant.” He sobered, his eyes darkening as his pupils widened again. “The facts are simple: I’ve wanted you for a very long time, John Watson. Now that you’ve realized it, I see no need to place restrictions on our feelings.” His eyes narrowed, eyebrows dropping into another frown. “Unless that’s not what you want?”

“Not what I said,” John said with an indulgent smile. Trust Sherlock to approach something like feelings with utter rationality, even as the apparent sign of his arousal pressed against the backs of John’s thighs. “I just never knew until now that you felt this way. It’s… well, it’s a bit of a surprise.”

Another scoff from Sherlock. “It’s not my fault that you’re a rather oblivious person, John. Now,” he said, voice clipped and to the point, “are you going to kiss me again? Or must we continue to talk all this out when I’d much rather show you how I feel?”

John stared at him, taken aback by the bluntness, before he tilted his head back and let out a loud, shocked laugh. “Oh, you’re going to be a handful, aren’t you?”

A gleam entered Sherlock’s pale eyes, lighting his face with mischievous promise. “I most certainly do plan for there to be handfuls of something, John. Rest assured.” He squeezed John’s backside with his un-splinted hand in a demonstration, prompting a startled but pleased wiggle from John.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” John said with a grin, then bent his head to meet Sherlock’s upturned mouth.

#sherlock #prompt #prompt fill #johnlock #first kiss #shaving #kind of adult rating for erections #simplyclockwork

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missskzbiased · 3 years

Text

My Whole New World

Genre: Fluff, Romance, Oneshot, Drabble, Established Relationship! au

Pairing: Bang Chan x Fem! Reader [Chubby! Described as squishy and Glasses mentioned as well, as requested]

Word Count: ~1,6K [I’m Proud! It’s the closest of a Drabble I’ll ever get]

Notes: The fifth fanfic for the Valentine’s request [That you can find here]

Chan || Minho || Changbin || Hyunjin || Han || Felix || Seungmin || Jeongin

Masterlist

Requested: Yes, by @fivefootfuryanon

EDIT: I knew I forgot to say something here. Wifey, I didn’t do the ‘ADHD’ part because I didn’t think I could do it well in a drabble. Maybe in the future I can write something longer. I’d like to picture it respectufully and study about it before writing it, so that’s why :’(

General Tag List: @channiewoo @aliceu @bythesunnotbythemoon

[If you wish to be tagged to the other Valentine’s requests, please send me an ask <3]

///

You were guilty.

Guilty of liking Disney’s songs too much.

What was the big deal with that?!

You should have known that having Chan in your house would end up in you being humiliating at some point today. In fact, you had your suspicions that you were bound to attack him when he finished Chan’s Room ─ which he was doing right now in your bedroom as you washed the dishes ─, and, of course, you weren’t mistaken.

“A whole new world!” You screamed at the top of your lungs; soaked and soapy sponge turning into a microphone for a moment as your free hand ─ that dropped the spoon in the sink just for this ─ slowly made its way to the sky, as if your singing abilities were good enough for this performance.

“A new fantastic point of view!” Chan sang along, voice filled with amusement.

“No!” You protested while chuckling “Don’t you dare close your eyes” You corrected, turning around and sprinkling foam everywhere as you brought your fist to your chest, scrunching your nose and singing dramatically. He giggled, utterly satisfied by your performance as he captured you on-screen “That’s right! Record me so Disney can hire me as their ultimate princess!” You laughed, winking exaggeratedly at the camera and having your glasses sliding to the tip of your nose.

“You’re on live” He announced, cackling up.

“Wait— What?!” You widened your eyes, tossing the sponge in the sink and trying to fix your outfit the best you could “H-Hey, Stays! I’m Chan’s friend, Y/N!” You floundered, an awkward smile plastered in your face as you tried to think about something to say to dismiss the idea of being in a relationship with him. Wouldn’t it get him in trouble?

“Oh my god! Stays, I’ve been rejected!” He whined, turning the camera to him before walking towards you “And there I was thinking she was singing this song to me” He pretended to cry, his hand hiding half of his face as he twisted his face in a mockingly sad grimace.

You stared at him blankly ─ eyes darting to your sides before fixing on him again ─, stiffly standing up as if suddenly you were a robot or something. He seemed to finally take pity on you, huffing playfully as he threw his arm around your shoulders, bringing you closer to him and framing both of you on the video.

“Well” He stressed, pecking your cheek before returning his gaze to the camera “As promised, Stays… Here is my girlfriend” He smirked when you let your mouth fall agape, dumbfounded by the situation “No, you may not steal my girl, Jeez!” He whined after reading a comment, frowning mockingly as if to scold whoever had thought about it.

You couldn’t believe it! Was it even allowed? Was it okay to announce your relationship like this? You returned your gaze to the camera, still looking flabbergasted as you tried to read the comments. You expected some rude ones but surprisingly enough, Stays seemed to be pretty chill about it.

Some of them commented about how cute you were because of your height gap. In fact, you were pretty short and that made Chan look like an actual tall guy instead of a small bean, like usual. Some others commented about how smooshy you looked and how envious they were of you and Chan. You had to chuckle about that one, seeing a bunch of stays saying that they wanted to hug you as well. Then you picked up on someone talking about your singing and the embarrassment hit you.

They had seen you pretending to be a performer!

“So that was it, Stays! Baby Stays…” He smiled, tilting his body to rest his head on top of yours “I’m gonna give you all a hug, and then I’ll be giving my babygirl some attention” He chanted, knowing that you would get flustered. You nudged his side, lowering your head to hide your embarrassment “Here, hold this for me, baby” He asked, guiding you to hold it with both of your hands and adjusting it to be in his chest level.

He opened his arms, getting closer to the phone to give his usual virtual hug, except that this time he actually hugged you instead of stopping in front of the phone. You felt his warmth as he wrapped you in his arms, staying there for a while before kissing your temple and letting you go. He smiled at the phone, making his signature pose in the end before turning the live off.

“Did you miss me?” He asked cutely, putting his phone aside to hold your hand, swinging them between both of you.

“It’s been only an hour” You reminded him, chortling when he pouted “Yeah, sure… I may have missed you a little bit” You teased, pecking his lips.

“Just a little bit?!” He whined, letting go of your hands to cross his arms over his chest, stomping the ground repeatedly as he pretended to throw a tantrum “You don’t love me anymore!” He said dramatically, pinching the bridge of his nose as he looked away and lifted his head.

“It’s your fault for exposing me like that!” You laughed, pointing at him before booping his nose “Now everyone saw me singing in the kitchen!” You pouted, making him chuckle, pulling you closer and wrapping you up as he kissed the top of your head “Yah! Being all cute now won’t get you away from it!” You said as he rocked your body side to side, peppering your face with kisses.

“You’re sure?” He asked, nuzzling you to make you annoyed “Even if I’m about to get you to bed for some nice cuddling and movies?” He tried to tempt you, guiding you to give one step at a time while hugging you, which made both of you look like penguins walking.

“Well, if I’m getting cuddles and some kisses… I may accept your apologies for humiliating me in front of the Stays” You mused out loud. He squeezed you like a plushie, holding you tight while whimpering, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“I can’t! You’re too cute” He cried, turning you around to squish your face “I didn’t know you would be singing in the kitchen” He chuckled, brushing his lips on yours “And it wasn’t humiliating, it was the cutest thing in this whole new world” He sang the last part, laughing as you playfully hit his shoulder.

“I’ll become a video on Twitter!” You whined, and he smooched you after you stopped talking.

“Well, we can tag Disney to see if they hire you as their ultimate princess” He giggled, getting another hit from you.

“You’re awful!” You chuckled, throwing your hands around his waist to bring him closer to you, lifting your head to kiss his pouting lips “But you’re lucky I love you a lot” You shrugged, getting a goofy smile from him.

“Like a whole lot?” He asked, trying to be charming but getting a snort as an answer “Yah!” He complained, bumping his nose on yours “I love you so much, Y/N-ah…” He pouted, and you looked softly at him, pecking his lips once again.

“I love you a whole lot” You promised, letting go of his waist to grab his hand and guide him to the bedroom. You sat down, rolling and patting the mattress for him to lay down with you “And by a whole lot, I mean a whole lot!” You said, spreading your arms open and stretching them as far as you could “Like this big! But maybe even bigger!” You added, chuckling as he rushed to roll to your side.

“That much, hm?” He gave you a smug grin, throwing his legs and arms over your body and resting his chin on your chest. You smiled at him, playing with his locks in a slow motion that got him humming and leaning against your hand; eyes closed to enjoy the warm contact.

You pinched his cheek, leaning to kiss his nose.

“You know what?” You asked, rubbing his earlobe mindlessly as he moved himself to get cozier into your hold, bringing you closer as he nuzzled your neck and sighed satisfied “I think I love you so much… But so much…” You whispered, turning your head to kiss his temple. You pressed a kiss on his cheek as well, placing one last kiss on his jaw before brushing your lips on his ears “That I could even call you…” You snorted, lifting your head just a little bit so he would turn to look at you.

He stood there, looking at you with twinkling expecting eyes.

“… My whole new world!” You sang out loud, startling him for a moment.

“Oh my God! Jeez!” He huffed, hand going to his chest as he lifted his body, making you laugh at his astonished expression.

He laughed along with you, bracing himself on the bed as he cupped your cheeks, staring intensely at your eyes and making you flustered. He smirked, nuzzling your nose before sliding his hand to yours, interlocking his fingers with you, and squeezing your hand. You pursed your lips, big doe eyes looking at him in expectation, observing how he hovered his lips over yours for a second.

“Don’t you dare close your eyes…” He continued the song, placing a soft kiss on your lips.

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imagine-loki · 3 years

Text

Can you Keep A Secret

TITLE: Can you keep it a secret? CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: 3 of 4

AUTHOR: ValarieRavenhearst2 ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine working with Loki in some way but you keep your distance because you have a massive crush on him and you tend to always embarrass yourself. Alas you find yourself in need of his help as you need his magic and he’s the only one for the job.

All the incubators in the lab make it feel like a sauna today, with so many new species needing direct heat, we’ve had to give them their own room. All my specimens look healthy and well after yesterdays’ sampling and I record their status on my iPad. After working by myself for half an hour I make the easy decision to take my jumper off before I start to sweat. As I start to wiggle out of it by easing it over my head, my shirt begins to rise with it and I make that awkward wiggle to try and magically make my shirt fall down without putting my arms back down. Whilst in the midst of my struggle I can hear the keypad being used to unlock the lab door and instinctively I throw myself to my knees to hide as my shirt has risen over my bra. Instant regret. I quickly correct myself on the ground as I hear Dr Banner and another botanist talking idly. The side of my abdomen stings viciously in warning as the material of my shirt goes back over it. I quickly flip it up again to inspect a small scratch now etched over my ribs, ending just under my bra. I hiss quietly in annoyance at my own stupidity as I stand calmly to inspect what I could have scratched myself on. Dr Banner greets me in surprise, obviously questioning what I am doing on the ground.

“Good morning.” I give them both a greeting smile, “I just dropped my jumper.” I wave it at them as proof and they go back to their conversation whilst I look at the plant specimens in front of me. This odd, black looking orchidaceous plant looks awfully ominous with its long bristly thorns of an olive green hue. It must have been the culprit as none of its neighbours have any type of protruding bristles. With a slight panic spiking in my veins I try to examine it’s ID card but it’s information is mostly blank as it hasn’t begun rigours testing yet. Shit! What if it’s poisonous. Surely it would be in a covered incubator if it was known to be poisonous and over in lab 2 with the others. I try not to act concerned as I question if the other two know anything about it and the other botanist, Swanson? I think. Says that the whole table is due for testing today by his team. I just nod in acknowledgment and calmly exit the lab. I mean, I feel okay, right? I don’t feel faint and or woozy. I canter off to the bathroom after throwing my jumper over my chair; I quickly raise my shirt again in the mirror to get a better look. It’s not that bad … I suppose. The thin red slice is only about six centimetres long and it doesn’t look like there’s anything caught in the wound. Honestly, what an idiot. I can’t believe I was so reckless. If bloody Branson found out he’d have my head and he’d carry on for eternity how right he was about me. Oh the ridicule! He’d have me on desk duty till he dies. No one can know! I’m breaking every safety protocol we have but if I am to die from it so be it. I’d rather die quietly than admit my fault to that grumpy old git. After a quick rendezvous with the first-aid box I should be fine. I’ll just have to spy on the other team later to see if they come with anything concerning on the evil looking sucker. Ugh! I can’t believe I just did that. As I exit the bathroom mumbling curses at myself, adjusting my skin tight black turtleneck, a wisp of black enters my peripheral and I know that the god of mischief has returned to the floor. His eyes find me as I cross the open bullpen to my desk and I let go of the hem of my shirt and make an effort to make the concern vanish from my face. Draped in a navy Asgardian attire, he is what my high school best friend would call a snack. I briefly notice accents of gold and olive lining the leather but I am quick to advert my eyes and look busy. I suppose he would be a nice distraction from the sting in my side but I needn’t the extra embarrassment on top of my slightly spiked anxiety. I can hear Branson’s old decrepit voice engaging with that sultry sirens call as they wander by my desk but I make myself continue typing on my computer as if my life depends on it. As soon as he’s passed me I can smell his cologne lingering to tease me. Do Asgardians even wear cologne or is that just him? I shake my head, determined not to let my thoughts distract me. As I continue to work at my desk for the day, every time I stretch and move around I check on the other team working in the lab and notice that pointy little sucker is still out in the open so my panic levels have been low and every time I go to the bathroom I check my side; gently peeling off the large non stick plaster to inspect the fading mark. The redness has reduced so much that I have to strain myself to notice the mark. I steal glances with the God of Mischief throughout the day as he wanders from station to station. I smile politely whenever our eyes meet and always breakaway first to continue working, which I notice earns me a sly grin after the fifth time. See, I knew that tricky bugger was up to something. I just know he purposefully loves to get under my skin. But I am not giving him the satisfaction of watching me blush today. Two can play at that game. Danny surprises me at lunch by bringing me a latte and childish teasing. He sits on the edge of my desk and immediately notices Loki working in the adjacent Lab in clear view of my desk. Trying to be noticeably subtle he continuously taps my shoulder whilst cooing in excitement like a giddy school girl. I shush him and punch him hard in the leg whilst acting like his antics haven’t phased me. I’ve been doing an amazing job of ignoring his presence all morning, he is not going to trick me into actively swooning now.

“Oh he looking.” Danny murmurs whilst turning his head away, tapping my shoulder again.

“Shut up!” I mutter back as I briefly glare at him in warning before retuning my attention to my computer screen.

“Girl he’s definitely checking you out.” He rearranges himself as he opts for standing behind me and leaning over me like he’s studying what I’m doing.

“I’m going to kill you.” I swivel in my chair so that I’m facing away from the Lab. “You’re such a trouble maker.” I hiss and jokingly shove him so not to make a big scene. “Don’t you have work of your own to do?” I question as I make an excuse to walk out of sight by taking my drink bottle to fill it up. Danny follows, chuckling evilly to himself.

“Yeah but this is more fun.” I threaten to throw water on him. “But seriously, he’s definitely watching you.” I could feel it! But I ain’t playing into Danny’s game.

“Yeah right,” I scoff as I begin back to my desk with Danny in tow, “what for? A good laugh if I stumble?” I take my seat but swivel so I’m facing Danny and away from Loki.

“Well no ‘cause I don’t think he’s ever laughed when you’ve embarrassed yourself.” Danny leans against the empty desk adjacent to mine and I gasp at him with forced hurtfulness.

“Are you saying I’m not funny?” I question mockingly and his face grimaces fiercely as he shrugs in agreement.

“Well, either he’s attracted to you or just pities you.” He deduces with his great sleuthing skills. “Which would you prefer?” I scowl so hard at him that he might burst into flames yet his shiteating grin is till carved into his face. I don’t answer, not diving into this ridiculous conversation (not to mention unsafe when he’s so close). With a steady, yet annoyed breath, I exhale loudly before turning back to my computer and turn my concentration up to a hundred and ten percent to block out Loki’s alluring figure in my peripherals.

“I have work to do and if you’ve only come to tease me you can piss off.” I purse my lips together in my best passive resting bitch face before flipping him off. Honestly what an arse – breaking basic friend 101 rules. Don’t joke about the crush in front of the crush.

“So touchy today.” He laughs and kisses me on the cheek before stepping around my desk before I can clock him one. “I’ll see you later.” He teases before leaving and I can feel myself being watched and it is so tempting to look to where that burning urge is coming from but I just know if I make eye contact I’ll blush several noticeable shades. I’ll remain strong, purely out of spite. I finish all my paper work earlier than expected and manage to send off all my reports just has mid afternoon rolls around. Spite is a good focuser. As I’m scanning through my emails to see if I need to reply to any I get a page from Clint to say that he’s on his way up to check out his new arrow heads. I beam excitedly in remembrance, jumping up from my desk and heading over to Lab 2, where I had been storing them in the cool room at the back of the lab. I had been experimenting and developing new knockout gasses and combustibles and I thought adapting them to Clint’s arrow heads would be a more challenging task then the standard grenades. Thus far the little project has been a success, they just haven’t had any field time yet. I notice Loki watching me through his lashes as I swipe into the lab and punch in the code. We’ve already exchanged pleasantries for the day so there’s no need for me to make any form of acknowledgment as I enter. As I enter through the double doors he straightens himself, most likely in expectance that I had entered to speak with him since it’s only he and another botanist in the Lab. But I just walk straight through without a glance which gives me such a surge of power, knowing how much confusion I was causing him even though his poker face is exceptional. After punching in the security code on the fridge I gently pull out the draw with the arrow tips and remove the tray, taking it with me. I have to make eye contact on my way back since focusing straight ahead would be too obvious and the key is subtlety here if I want to be one up on his intimidating behaviour. My lips curve pleasantly at him but I don’t say anything as I head back to the door. Clint is already at my desk and is glancing around for me. He waves happily when he sees me and opens the door for me so I don’t have to.

“Hey,” he smiles at me and I pass him the tray, “you sure these work?” He questions mockingly.

“Have I ever failed you before?” I coyly quirk my brows in rebuke.

“Want to test them with me?” He nods his head at the door for me to follow him and I do with a skip in my step. I did archery as a child but I got nothing on him. I take my time to relish in the fact that Loki hasn’t taken his eyes off me as I exit through the corridor and I even dare a cheeky, subtly seductive glance over my shoulder just to make sure. Oh it feels good to be bad .. no wonder he loves it.

#Loki #others #submission #submitted fic #ValarieRavenhearst2 #can you keep a secret #chapter 3

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garbagevanfleet · 3 years

Text

Brightest Blue (series)

PART ELEVEN

Pairing: Josh x reader Warnings: talk of sex and such, feelings Summary: Things are changing. New state. New school. New roommate. You just pray things are going to click into place.

Notes: alright, this is terribly late again because im a depressed snail at heart, but its longer than usual, so i hope that makes up for it. If you read my fic at all, i love you. If you interact with this fic in anyway, i want to wed you.

taglist: @valleyd0ll @satingrass-maidensfair @guitarfingers @thebohemianpenguin @peaceisouranthem @oblvions @hansonobsessed @myownparadise96 @anditsmywholeheart @kill-fear-the-power-of-lies @bigblack-catattack

MASTERPOST

You woke up in a daze of fuzzy but pleasant memories. You were trying to blink the sleep from your eyes when Josh entered your line of sight. He had emerged from the hallway, completely naked save for the necklace he’d been in the night before, little water droplets slipping from his curls to his shoulders.

You shot up in bed, and as you did, the comforter fell away from your body. It took you a moment for you to realize that it was the air hitting your bare skin that was making you feel chilled, but it didn’t last long. Your face turned beet red as you quickly picked the sheet back up to cover yourself.

He was giving you an odd look - somewhere between amused and concerned. “Are you alright?” he tried cautiously, still standing there stark naked.

“Josh! You can’t just walk around naked,” you complained, stuttering on your words as they came out.

He snorted a laugh. “What? First of all, this is my room. Second of all, it’s a little late to try and protect your modesty.”

You rolled your eyes at him until you realized what he was talking about. “Oh my god, we had sex last night,” you whispered to him like it was a secret, a tiny smile on your lips.

He nodded, breathing a laugh. “Yeah.”

You experimentally shifted in your seat before grimacing up at him. “That would explain why I’m sitting in a damp spot.”

You could only describe the laugh that escaped him as a cackle, honest and unabashed. “Gross.”

You had to say you agreed with him.

There was a cautious moment, where you stared at each other, both unsure of what to say.

“Are we good?” he tried quietly like he was a little scared of what you were going to say.

You patted the spot next to you and he clambered in as he was told. You leaned against him as he wrapped his arm around your shoulder.

“Of course, we are,” you assured, nuzzling your head into the crook of his neck.

“If it’s going to make you feel better to pretend it didn’t happen, I wouldn’t be mad.”

You pulled away and looked up at him with a frown. “What are you talking about?”

He shrugged, sporting a nervous smile. “I just don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

You heaved a big sigh, shifting to look into his eyes. “Josh, I want you to listen to me really carefully, okay?”

He nodded.

You slowly reached up to cup one side of his face in your hand. “I don’t regret it - actually, I had a really nice night. I just think that it would be best for everyone involved if it didn’t happen again. We probably shouldn’t be romantic...or naked around each other.”

The expression he wore seemed like an understanding one, at least to you.

“You want me to make pancakes? Maybe chocolate chip banana?” you offered, giving him a cheeky smile.

He couldn’t help but match it. “Yes. You’re probably going to want to put your tits away first though.”

“You first,” you quipped, smacking the back of your hand against his peck.

+++

The rest of the weekend, the two of you spent watching Christmas movies on the couch (even though the holiday was more than a month away) while you worked on sewing the costumes. Josh had offered to ask the theater department if you could borrow a sewing machine, but you had been way too afraid of it to try and use it, so it sat in your room alone. That did, however, leave you to sew 26 costumes by hand. Well, more like 24, since Rachel had two of them mostly done.

You were finding it oddly fun though, even though your fingers hurt by the fifth stitch or so. The hardest part was making sure you worked on the basics of every costume first - your instinct was to work on one at a time until it was perfect, but you knew you had to be smart about time management. Luckily, even though it was only near mid-November, Michigan’s weather was lovably unpredictable. The weather station had called for snow only through the weekend, but, in reality, it was Monday evening by the time it was done dumping snow - giving you a full three day weekend.

Kate had been sending you pictures of the pieces of the set she had taken home with her to work on, and you couldn’t hide how impressed you were with her work. You would almost be offended at how good it looked if you hadn’t known she was an Art History major with a heavy side of sculpture work.

In the last two weeks before the production, you barely got to see Josh. He would walk you to school, but then you usually wouldn’t see him for the entire rest of the day. You tried to wait up for him on Thursday night, but you ended up falling asleep on the couch, and woke at 1 am to him gently patting your shoulder.

“Hey, you should get up and go to your bed.”

You blinked up at him, sitting up and brushing your sleep-mussed hair from your eyes.

“You’re home so late,” you scolded half-heartedly, pulling your borrowed sweatshirt closer to your face.

“I know, sorry. There’s still a lot to do, especially after we got snowed in last weekend,” he replied, sitting gingerly on the armrest.

“I told you that I’m happy to help however I can.”

He smiled at you, but you had to admit that he looked over-tired. You’d been watching him burn the candle at both ends for three days straight. “It’s a lot of stuff that only I can do. Like going over the music and making the final set diagrams.”

You hummed in understanding as a response.

“Want me to carry you to bed? You can come sleep in mine if you want,” he offered through a crinkly-nosed smile.

You grinned back at him, genuine at first, but it quickly turned melancholy. “Josh,” you said under your breath. “I’d love that, but I don’t think it’s good for us to share a bed anymore.”

His expression fell, face turning blank. He nodded at you, standing and giving you a disappointed smile. “Sleep well,” he wished, patting your shoulder again once before retreating to his room.

You stayed on the couch for a while, your knees tucked up to your chest, as you sat in your guilt. You had known it was stupid of you to have ever let things turn anything other than platonic with him - it had been undeniably fun, but he was your roommate, for fuck’s sake. You had to see him every day, eat your meals with him. Had you not selfishly let yourself go there in the first place, you’d be cuddled up beside him tonight.

It had been so lovely having any kind of affection - platonic or otherwise - that you let yourself get carried away.

When you finally got up and went to bed, Josh’s light was still on, his door shut for one of the first times since you moved in.

+++

Kate took you out for breakfast on Saturday morning to a local hole-in-the-wall that she swore had the very best pancakes she’d ever eaten. She had shown up in a puffer jacket that looked so warm, it made you jealous.

You’d been chatting easily about your classes and the play, but when you had finished your first cup of coffee, there was a lull in the conversation.

You hadn’t meant to say it, it just bubbled out. “I slept with Josh.”

She glanced up at you through her jet black lashes, stony-faced. “Yeah,” she replied, way too calm, sounding like she was wondering why you were even telling her.

You blinked at her for a moment. “Did you hear me? I had sex with Josh.”

She nodded. “Do you want me to pretend like I’m shocked?”

You grimaced at her, and in a whiny tone, responded, “Yes, please.”

A nervous laugh escaped her as she fixed her features to display a surprised expression. “You did what?!” she asked - purely for your benefit.

You groaned at her. “Okay, I get it. I feel so bad about it, Kate.”

Her cherry lips shaped into a puzzled frown. “Why?”

A deep sigh filled your ribcage - you had been hoping it would clear your head, but no luck.

“Because I desperately miss being able to be platonically intimate with him and it not being awkward. Before this, I was sleeping in his bed from time to time when I got too cold and we would cuddle.”

“Why can’t you go back to that?”

“Are you listening? I slept with him,” you groaned. “All I can think about is him on top of me now.”

She scoffed, her chipped nails tapping against her glass of diet Coke. “Imagine how he feels - Josh had real, honest to god feelings for you, I think. Like for a while.”

“You said that, but I don’t know. How do you know that he didn’t just want to sleep with me? Like not in a conscious way, but what if he just wanted affection? What then, Kate?”

She had one dark eyebrow raised at you as she sipped at her straw. “Because I know that’s not true.”

“How would you be able to know that? Because you see him sometimes at school-”

She cut you off with a confident smile. “I know because I talked to Jake about it.”

You almost blew past it - that is until you realized what she had said. The two of you shared a long, silent moment as you stared at each other.

“You’ve been talking to Jake?” you asked, trying to keep your tone even so she didn’t know how excited that made you.

“I have talked to him in the past, yes. He said that he already knew, but he was able to pry it out of Josh when he was drunk once.”

You stared at her. “Okay, there’s a lot to unpack here right now, I think we can both agree with that. But can we start with you and Jake?”

She huffed a disbelieving laugh as she set her hand on yours on the table comfortingly like she was trying to cushion the news. “Josh has some feelings for you - the real kind.”

In an effort to prolong the moment that it was time for you to speak again, you picked up a bite of your breakfast and popped it in your mouth. The moment always comes though, no matter how long you try to put it off.

“I can’t,” you said quietly, shaking your head in disappointment. Then when she prompted you with a confused look, you finished. “I can’t risk it. I mean, maybe there could be something there, but he’s my roommate. And my best friend - there’s no way I’d ever get lucky enough again to find someone I connected with like that if things went sour and I had to move out.”

She licked her lips absently. “My advice would be to think about it - for literally as long as you need to. I’m confident that you’ll figure out what you want.”

You nodded, not entirely convinced one way or another. “It’s hard because he’s so fucking cute,” you said in faux disgust.

“And sweet,” she added. “Don’t forget that.”

You shot her an accusatory look.

After a long pause, a smile found its way to your lips. “How cool would it be though if we were both dating one of them?”

She laughed, picking a syrup-covered strawberry off her plate and chewing it with care. “Not me, I can’t be tamed. Jake is really hot and everything, but I got shit to do, you know?”

You scoffed at her.

“I’m definitely keeping him in my contacts though,” she said with mischievous eyes.

+++

You didn’t directly see Josh for the rest of the weekend, though he left evidence of his presence scattered through the apartment. He had left his hair mousse out on the sink and the toothpaste cap off of its tube in the bathroom, some crumbs of a sandwich he packed for lunch in the kitchen, and a note on his bedroom door.

Can you please feed Penny a couple of flakes for dinner? If you have any time today, I’d appreciate it if you could spend some of it with her. See you sometime soon! - J

You plucked the paper off the door where it was barely hanging by a thin strip of green floral tape and smiled as you read it again.

His bedroom was dim, hid away from the sun by his closed blinds. The desk by his door was covered in books - textbooks, music books, books for his English lit class, and one you’d seen him reading for fun on more than one occasion. On the hardwood floor next to his bed was a stack of papers, and even though you knew you shouldn’t you crouched to peek through them.

They appeared to be rough drafts of plans for the play - nothing too exciting, but they were charmingly eccentric. He had done little doodles of his ideas for sets and props, even a whole sheet of costume ideas that caught your eye. You pulled it from the messy stack and folded it into your pocket.

Careful not to spill any water, you moved Penny in her globe to your bedside table, but as you stared at her through the glass you frowned.

You pulled your phone out and snapped a picture of her, trying to make sure you got an accurate portrayal of her size. She looked at you, sticking her lips out of the water in search of food. You remembered Josh’s warning about overfeeding her the first day you’d met him and it brought a genuine smile to your lips. You promised her you’d be back, holding your finger just above the water and letting her press her mouth to it.

On the ride over to Petsmart, you had called your mom, asking if it would be okay if you borrowed some cash, to which she agreed to after her usual line of questioning. When you pulled into the parking lot, you checked your bank account just to make sure it transferred okay, always nervous that you’d get to the register and your card would decline.

You spent longer than you should have reading articles online as you studied the tanks, all set up in rows for purchase. They weren’t as expensive as you’d expect a water-sealed glass box to be, and after you were confident you had picked the right one, you still had plenty left in your budget for the dressings.

You picked a couple of fun decorations - a fake log for her to hide in if she wanted to and one that looked like part of a broken Greecian statue. The part that took you the longest was picking out the healthiest-looking plants. You had read that goldfish often like to eat live plants, but you couldn’t bring yourself to buy fake ones - the plant lover in you knew it was a cardinal sin.

A very kind cashier agreed to help you carry your haul to your car, even helping you shift it all correctly so you could make it fit. You left him a secret tip, even though he denied at first, and thanked him profusely.

Getting the tank into the apartment was the hardest part. You realized just how lucky you were that you didn’t live above the first floor.

By the time you got the tank situated back on his dresser, your muscles - especially in your legs - were protesting, but you weren’t done yet. You grabbed an empty ice cream pail and started to fill the tank, one trip at a time until it was about 3/4’s full of water.

The decorations had to be shifted multiple times before you liked their position enough to start pouring in the gravel around them. A Youtube tutorial taught you exactly how much of each chemical to add and how to put together the filter, and then you left it to cycle as you returned to your room.

Perched on your bed, you pulled the sheet of costumes from your pocket and studied it. You pinned it to your corkboard. Undeniably, the cutest design he had come up with was for the door mouse - grey fabric, huge ears, and a rope tail.

The rest of the unfinished costumes were in a cardboard box by the side of your bed - you hadn’t moved it anywhere because you knew you’d be back at it before too long at any given time. You bent down off the side of your bed and rummaged through the different fabrics until you found the one you were looking for - a grey-blue faux suede deal. You were pretty sure you had enough to make it work.

You fished your phone out from where you had buried it under the covers when you shifted and called the one person that could help.

“Hello?” Kate mumbled, sounding like you’d just woken her up despite it being noon.

You giggled at her. “Hi, I’m playing my best friend card. I know you’ve helped so much, but can you please please come work on these costumes with me?”

She hummed and then went silent for a good, long moment. “Give me ten to wake up and get dressed.”

A beaming smile spread across your face. “Kate, I love you so much. I’m going to Venmo you money to get coffee and donuts, okay?”

“Hmm, I do like donuts.” She sounded pleased.

“Good! Bring Jake too.”

+++

The knock on your door came a half-hour later. You jumped from your bed, racing to let them in. Jake was dressed in the softest-looking flannel shirt you’d ever seen, a drink carrier in his hands that housed three drink cups.

“Okay, so there are three jobs that need to be done. Measuring and marking, cutting, and sewing. If we each take one of those jobs, I’m confident we can finish a couple of the costumes today. I’ll let you guys pick first,” you informed as you lead them into your room.

“I’ll take cutting,” Kate said, prompting Jake to reply that he’d like measuring.

You handed Jake the notebook of measurements with a grin. “Rachel,” you started with a sneer. “Did a lot of the calculations for us, thank god. All you have to do is measure out the fabric. The tricky part is making sure you do it in a way that will leave enough fabric for the rest of the costumes.”

“Not a problem,” Jake responded with a smirk. “And I think her name is just ‘Rachel’, not ‘Rachel’.”

Kate shot him a look on your behalf. “I think she was just making a referencing the fact that Rachel left your brother with a huge ass list of things to do completely alone, not that she was jealous.”

“Jealous of what?” you asked accusatorily, a scowl painted on your face.

Jake put both of his hands up in defense., but he didn’t appear apologetic in the slightest. Smugly, he said, “I’m just saying-”

Kate reached out and smacked his chest. “Jake, shut up. Okay, what one should we start on?”

“I’m going to have Jake start with this one.” You turned to the page in the notebook that showed the measurements for the door mouse, laying it out by him. “This is the main fabric. Kate, I have a lot of the Queen of Heart’s fabric measured and marked already, so I’ll have you start cutting that. There’s a lot of little pieces to that one.”

Kate looked at the six different fabrics you’d laid out for her, one eyebrow cocked at you. “Have you been getting any of your own homework done at all?”

Your cheeks flushed as you nervously rubbed at the back of your neck. “Let’s stay on track, shall we?” you replied, pretty much answering her question. “We’ve got one week until the production, and I know the costumes have to be done at least a day ahead of time.”

They both just stared at you in varying stages of disbelief.

“Don’t look at me like that. We can do this,” you assured, sounding a hell of a lot more confident than you actually were. “Now let’s get to work.”

+++

When Josh got home, you were nearly sleeping on the couch, the remains of your current project in your lap. You peeked at the clock.

10:54 pm.

“You’re home so late,” you whispered, for no particular reason.

“I know,” he agreed, wiping his hand over his face after he took his jacket off.

“Come sit with me a minute,” you requested, shifting so he would have space. He gave you a grateful smile, immediately crossing the room to do as he was told.

After a moment, he cautiously wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “Is this okay?” he asked quietly.

You gave him a smile. “Yeah, it’s perfect.”

You knew he must have been tired because he wasn’t talking a mile a minute like you were used to after not seeing him for long.

“Are you hungry?” you asked.

He hummed, sounding like he was close to passing out. “I am, but I can make myself something.”

You scoffed, “Absolutely not. You got get into bed and I’ll bring something to you in a second.”

He reluctantly got up off the couch and clambered into his room. You waited patiently for him to notice the surprise, grinning to yourself when you heard him gasp.

You listened as you made him a sandwich, and you couldn’t hear exactly what he was saying, but you knew he was talking to Penny just by the tone of his voice.

As you rounded the corner into his room, he turned and gave you a smile as bright as the sun.

“Did you do this, or did Fish Santa come early?” he asked, his finger pressed against the glass of the tank.

“Well, kind of both,” you responded through a laugh as you sat next to him on the bed and delivered his sandwich to his lap. “You can consider it your early Christmas present.”

He stared at you for a long beat, looking like he might cry. You knew you’d never be able to handle that, so you pulled him in for a hug, tightening your arms around him when he hugged you back.

“You’ve been working so hard,” you whispered. “I miss my best friend.”

He turned his face, pressing his nose into your cheek in a move that felt a step or two farther than friends.

“I’ve put everything I have into this,” he admitted, and you were too scared to ask if he meant the play or something else. You sat like that with him for a long moment before he pulled away, giving you a thankful smile.

“I’m sure you need time to decompress, so I’ll leave you be. Eat and then get some sleep, okay?” You stood and headed for the door, turning when he called your name.

“Thank you,” he said.

#brightest blue fic #josh gvf #josh kiszka #josh x reader #joshxreader #Greta Van Fleet #greta van fleet fan fiction #greta van fleet fic

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justyoursimpleflower · 3 years

Text

Golden Thread (Remus Lupin)

Soulmate AU

Warning:- Minor mention of injury, otherwise fluff.

Word count:-3k

A/N:- the collage was made by me, I tried guys, I really did but it's a mess. You will find the audio of the song that inspired this one shot at the starting. invisible string by Taylor Swift, you will find some references to lyrics too, point them out and tell me! All the gif and photos belong to their respective owners, i got them from pinterest. The italics are the previous events happened between Remus and Reader. enjoy read!

Remus Lupin had never thought that there would come a day, he would be finally have the perfect life. All his life he had thought that he didn't deserved the love people around him gave, he always thought that they were only taking pity on him, they didn't really wanted to be with him. It was all until you came into his life. Remus was in a daze that how the mere presence of you had brought him such a peace.

You both were currently sitting in front of fireplace of Gryffindor common room just reading from your respective books, glancing at each other between some moments. The common room was quite at the time with the only sound of small voices of other students talking, and the fire crackling.

Remus looked up and saw you smiling a bit, he saw that you were biting your lip to stop yourself from smiling completely, he really wanted to know what was making you smile so much but chose to enjoy the silence between you both, which was mostly rare.

Slowly, he shifted himself in a way that he was now sitting next to you, he saw your eyes flicker a bit, that made him know that you actually noticed him changing his position. No matter how much people bully Sirius and James for wanting attention all the time, Remus was no different. The only difference was he did that with people he was most comfortable. So, to get your attention, he leaned his head on your shoulder and his fingers slowly threaded themselves with your fingers. He looked down and saw the same golden thread, that connected both of you. A smile graced his face, and when he looked up at your face, you were smiling too.

The simple twist of your lips made Remus' heart flutter, he nuzzle his face in the crook of your neck and kissed the side of your neck. A smirk made its way on Remus' lips when he heard you take a sharp breath. He kissed the side of your neck once again but this time you sighed in content which made Remus' smile. You sighed again, raising your hand to through his hair, you asked,

"Remus, what do you want?"

"Attention."

Your hand stopped massaging his head which earned you a whine, choosing to ignore it, you turned to your side and made him face you, holding his face in your hands. Remus pouted because of the new position but smiled when you kissed him on the tip of his nose. He in return took your hands in his and kissed the back of them.

When your hands connected, a thread of gold formed around them, making your heart flutter.

The soulmate thread.

Legends say that you are destined one is signed to you on your birth. An invisible string is attaching you both till you both meet and accept your love for each other. And once who accept your feelings, the first ime your hands connect, a golden thread ties you to each other and after that it's always there when your hands connect.

That invisible string just connects you both, it doesn't change your destiny, it doesn't stop you to love someone else, it gives you clue from time to time whenever you are with them but in the end it's you that has to find the love in your destined one and accept it, until then you are on your own.

You had always felt a connection towards Remus, since the day you met him for the first time, under a tree near black lake with green grass spead around you and your eyes on the book with complete focus. You were so focused that you never noticed someone making their way towards you.

Suddenly you were startled by a black dog jumping on you, with so much force that your book flew out of your hand and landed the grass. Looking up you saw a blur of teal, shaking your head, you focused again on the image in front of you and saw Remus standing there with an apologetic look on his face. Of course you knew him, the sweet and kind prefect, and a marauder.

Your eyes shifted and you found the same black dog, wagging his tail happily. You narrowed your eyes at the dog, and saw his mouth twist in a way that almost made you think it was a smirk. Someone cleared their throat and looking up you saw Remus staring at you.

"I am sorry for the inconvenience."

You shook your head, and said,

"No problem, I think your dog was just in a playful mood."

The dog wagged his tail more and you saw Remus glare at him and mumble something along, 'I am going to murder you.' You weren't quite sure why would Remus think of doing so, because to you, the dog was really cute.

"He's really cute." You said, raising your hand to pet him on the head. The dog nuzzled his nose in your hand which made you grin. Remus snorted at your words,

"Yeah, and a pain in arse."

The dog whined at his words, you were quite confused how he understood what Remus said but you thought it might be due to training. You wouldn't know a thing about a pet, since you had none for yourself. The dog laid his head on your lap, while nudging you to pet him. You laughed lightly before running your hand on his head.

Remus' mind was mess at the moment. He was feeling a lot of things at the same moment. Anger at Sirius' antics, flustered for first time actually talking to you, happy because telling the Marauders worked ( even though Sirius was making him mad ). Remus had been noticing since the start of year but never did he ever got the courage to talk to you. It was, as if something was pulling him towards you.

Remus actually hadn't accepted his feeling towards you, to him, it was just urge to make a new friend after he saw you helping the first year in the corridor at the start of year. He had cursed himself for the whole day, that why hadn't he seen you before.

Remus crouched down at and petted Padfoot on his head. Remus was about to say something to you but before he could he saw a look on your face staring behind him, the same look James had on his face when he talked about Lily. He looked behind him and saw a fifth year from Ravenclaw. He knew that person, the last time Remus had crush on someone, before he could confess his feelings for them, they got together with the Ravenclaw.

He turned back to look at you, to find your eyes cast downwards, at Padfoot. Clearing his throat, he got your attention, he smiled softly,

"You like them, don't you? The Ravenclaw?"

You nodded then frowned a little,

"How doest it matter? They already found the one. Look, the golden thread."

And indeed there was a golden thread formed between his previous crush and the Ravenclaw. He sighed and turned back to you, you smiled softly which he returned with one. A silence fell between you two as you both of you petted Padfoot. Remus thought that he should say something but he didn't know what, so he said the first thing that came to his mind,

"Y-You don't need to be upset about it. T-There might be someone waiting for you, someone who is connected to you by the invisible string. That person might be faraway, or might be just talking to you right now."

Before he could stop himself the words were out of his mouth. He felt Padfoot shift in his position, definitely due to his wordings. He knew if Padfoot could right now, would laugh at his flustered state. Remus took a deep, breath closing his eyes, he turned towards you and started babbling apologies,

"I-I am s-so sorry! I-I didn't meant to— I didn't want to— I don't—"

He stopped when he heard your laugh, he opened his eyes to be just blown away by the beauty in front of him. To him, you were perfect even with all those imperfect things. Remus' heart almost leapt out of his chest, from the beautiful sight.

"I am so sorry, you look so cute when you are flustered." You said between laughs. You took deep breaths and calmed yourself a bit then said,

"Time, time is a mystical thing, it will wound you and heal you, itself. I know what you meant Remus."

Remus found himself deep in thoughts before—

"How do you know my name?"

He saw something cross in your eyes by chose to not question. You suddenly got awkward and a bit nervous. He thought he made mistake by saying that, and the glare Padfoot was sending towards him didn't help. You laughed somewhat nervously and said,

"I- It's going to sound creepy, b-but I actually noticed you...You know! You are so smart, and kind and..." You trailed off to see him trying to supress his smile but it was evident how bad he wanted to smile.

You stomach erupted into butterflies with the simple gesture, you bit your own lip to supress your smile.

Padfoot looked between you two, looking like lovesick teenagers— ( doesn't matter if you are teenagers, you still look like one ). He sighed and shook in his head which definately got unnoticed by you, so he ended up whining to get both of you to pay him some attention.

You thought that maybe Remus would never talk to you but that was not the case. You both started to meet more frequently, whether it was in the presence of other Marauders. Though a question was bothering you a lot, so when you asked Remus that how was he allowed to have a dog as a pet and where that dog was now, you just earned yourself a laugh from Marauders and a cute, almost smirking smile from Remus.

After sometime, you started to notice Remus' monthly disappearance, when you'd ask him, he would just brush it off. You knew your limits, but there was something that kept you pulling towards him, like you wanted all of him, you wanted him at his best or at his worst. You were pretty sure after some time that your feeling towards him weren't actually friendly anymore.

Remus on the other hand was facing the same problem, except he wasn't ready to accept the feelings towards you. He wanted to let it go, he didn't want to be heartbroken when he find outs your hands finally got tied to a golden thread that wasn't connecting to his. The only option to him was to push down his feelings.

The full moon was approaching, and you were getting suspicious again, if it hadn't been the stress of exams, you would have made him to tell you the truth. Or at least that's what he thought. You noticed again how he almost every day had a headache, the bags under his eyes got deeper, how he seemed irritated always.

So, sitting in library, you were contemplating to ask him but his eyes were pooling from pain and irritation. Slowly putting your hand on his, you made him look at you, he gave you a smile, but you noticed how forced it looked.

"Remus...are you alright?"

He hummed a little then said,

"What makes you think I am not?"

"I don't know, the bags under your eyes, the irritation in your eyes, your headache—"

"Alright, alright. I get it." He laughed a little then looked at you, smiling softly. You stared in his green eyes before leaning down and pressing a feather light kiss on his cheek. You straightened up and left without any other word.

Remus' hand raised and touched the part where just moments ago your lips were. His heart was thumping in his chest and he suddenly found himself feeling giddy, his cheeks were getting heated and he was still staring at the spot where you were standing moments ago.

As if on cue, James, Peter and Sirius entered the library and made their way to Remus. When they noticed the lovesick expression, they knew that you must have gone just before their arrival. Peter nudged Remus' shoulder and said,

"Moony, I think you should tell Y/N."

But Remus just turned and gave Peter a death glare for breaking his daydream. Sirius snickered but was silenced by James' glare, the latter bent down and touched Remus' forehead from the back of his hand and asked,

"How are you feeling Moony?"

Remus shrugged and replied,

"Fine, I guess..."

And started working on work in front of him. He was going to miss classes again.

The full moon approached a lot earlier then Remus would have liked, in fact, if it was upto him, the full moon would never be there. But who can defy the fate? The pain was destined for him.

So, again the Marauders made their way to the Shrieking Shack to help Moony. The night went on without any kind of difficulty, only a scratch here or there and the next thing they know, the moon was setting down to let sun spread its warmth.

To say you were tense would be an understatement. You were panicking. You had found Peter on your way to Great Hall in the morning and when you asked him about Remus, he said,

"In Hospital Wing." Perhaps he didn't understand the severity of situation that if you find out you would raise a hell, that why Remus of all people, had to suffer this.

Entering the Hospital Wing you found, the other two Marauders around Remus' bed. They all were whispering amongst themselves about something. But you didn't give a thought to it and marched towards Remus' bed.

They finally seemed to notice you and their eyes widen when they saw you. Remus looked on the verge of panicking before you soften your gaze and made your way towards his side, opposite to James and Sirius. You took Remus' face in four hands, your heartbreaking at the sight,

"Oh Remus..."

His body was littered with scars, most of which seemed fresh, his body was tensed and pale, you wished you knew how to take his pain away,

"What happened?"

Remus had never felt so closed up in his throat, the furrow in your brows, the frown on your lips made his heart break. As if on cue, James and Sirius left you too alone.

His hand came and touched yours, which was on his cheek. He smiled softly but there was no change in your demeanour. He sighed and said,

"You know, how clumsy I can get—"

"No Remus! No one gets so hurt by just being clumsy!"

He was a bit startled by your sudden outburst and winced. Your voice soften and you said,

"Please Remus, please tell me what is it?"

Remus knew from the heartbroken look in your eyes that he have to tell you. Gathering his courage, he said,

"I am a werewolf."

Silence.

He waited for your outburst but it never came. He opened his eyes to see the furrow between your eyes soften and a sigh of relief escaping your lips.

"Oh Merlin, Remus! You scared me so much."

He was taken aback by your calmness he wanted to ask did it not affect you but before he could you wrapped your arms around his neck. He sighed in content and wrapped his own arms around you. Merlin, he was ruined. He liked you. Maybe even loved.

You had never felt such a relief but you were afraid of the terrors he had face every month. You wanted to be with him for the best and worst, you wanted to hug him when he felt, you wanted kiss—

Oh Merlin, You liked Remus.

When you both seperated, your minds were buzzing with questions. Shaking those thoughts off, you held his hands in yours and said,

"Remus, I can't imagine the pain you have to go through every month, but I'm here for you. Until the end."

He smiled softly and said,

"Thanks for accepting me."

"Of course."

Just then a golden thread erupted from your wrists, shining, it made its way and tied itself on Remus' wrists.

Your mouths were agape. The golden thread. You wanted to cry, you want to laugh, you wanted to grin and most importantly you wanted to kiss each other and that's what you did.

Wrapping your arms around one another you both devoured the honey of each other's lips, celebrating the bond of your invisible string.

When you both pulled back, Remus rested his forehead on yours, eyes still closed, he said,

"I guess, I was right when I said, that you could be talking to the one for you at the moment."

You grinned and kissed his nose. What an amazing story.

"Remus I'm so glad that you are my soulmate."

"Yeah me too, it was a hell of a journey but it brought me heaven, to you." He smile at you and kissed your nose. Remus saw a smile form on your lips, making his heart fill with warmth.

You opened your eyes and looked at him,

"There were clues I didn't see, all the time, wish I could have, we would have so much more time with each other."

"I am just happy that you came to me and pulled me out of all the wrong arms. We do have plenty of time."

You sighed and laid your head on Remus shoulder, whose head came and rested on yours. His soft Heath's calmed you and made you say,

"Isn't it just so pretty to think, all along there was some invisible string, tying you to me."

A single thread of gold tied me and you.

@whiskeypowder

#Spotify #regulus x you #marauders era #remus lupin #harry potter #james potter #marauders oneshot #sirius black #sirius black fluff #sirius x you #sirius fluff #books & libraries #remus lupin fluff #remus x you #remus x reader

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vina-writes · 3 years

Text

The Pink Paradox

Written for the @drarrymicrofic prompt: Metamorphosis!

Rating: T

Length: 1.6k

Summary: Draco Malfoy has pink hair.

Notes: Thank you so much @fw00shy for betaing!! Also just hire me for all your graphic design needs because hot damn I am proud of myself

(i)

Draco Malfoy has pink hair.

That’s not entirely correct when one gets down to the facts. Draco Malfoy has blond hair— a light, airy blond, the color of sunlight on snow. Harry Potter knows this because he’s spent many an adolescent winter watching Malfoy walk the grounds of a frozen Hogwarts and noticing it. The fact that he’s observed Malfoy that carefully is neither here nor there, although Ron would say it’s there (there being the Janus Thickey Ward). Harry’s Malfoy-stalking tendencies occupy their own corner of his mind however, and certainly don’t apply to the here and now.

Because here and now Malfoy has pink hair, and that’s not something unique to Harry’s observations. There’s not a witch or wizard alive who wouldn’t notice that head of bubblegum bobbing between the Auror cubicles.

It’s far too early for a Monday morning (nearing noon), and while their coworkers have been diligently ridding the Wizarding World of crime, Harry and Ron are tossing Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans into each other's mouths and gossiping over Lavender Brown’s pregnancy cravings. They were, that is, until Harry caught sight of Malfoy's pink hair.

“Kneazle got your tongue?” Ron asks after Harry fails to finish his sentence for the fifth time. Ron can make fun of him if he wants— his chair is facing away from Malfoy and that rosy fringe. The fact that Harry has never passed up a chance to watch Draco in all their years of training and employment (with or without pink hair) is irrelevant. The pink is distracting, and it’s more so on Malfoy.

“Malfoy,” Harry repeats to himself quietly, just to feel the familiar shape in his mouth. It’s lacking the venom and suspicion it should have on principle.

Ron turns unpleasantly green at that. “Malfoy’s got your tongue?” he asks.

“What?” Harry finally looks away from Malfoy. “No. Ew. Of course not.” He says it far too blandly, like a child denying their love of sweets, and Ron gives him a Look. Harry tries (unsuccessfully) to change the subject. “What’s he doing with the— why did he— what’s… erm.”

Ron regards him like he’s lost his mind. He seems to think Harry is confused about Malfoy’s business in the DMLE, when he’s usually with Hermione down in Mysteries. While that is out of the ordinary, it’s not nearly as pressing of an issue as Malfoy's pink hair.

“He’s consulting,” Ron explains slowly, “for the Finley case?” Then, when Harry only stares back blankly— “Harry. Can you even read?”

“Occasionally.”

“Tacky romance novels don't count.”

“Oh. Then, no, not really.”

“It was in our missive just last week. They’ve pulled in the Unspeakables. I was hoping they’d send ‘Mione, since she and the Ferret work together, but no such luck.”

“Oh.” Harry turns back to watch Malfoy shake Robards’ hand. Robards' grip is strong, and his thick fingers nearly engulf Malfoy’s delicate wrist. Harry doesn’t like that.

“Are you worried he’s going to cause trouble?” Ron asks. His voice sounds different, and when Harry glances at him again he’s got both feet slung over the armrest of his chair. Robards will skin him alive if he sees.

“No!” Harry says too quickly. He coughs. “Just wondering about the— er, how long has he had…?”

Ron doesn’t seem inclined to help him out.

“For fuck’s sake, Ron, when did he go and do—” Harry waves his hands frantically “—that?”

“Do you mean the hair, mate?”

“Yes, the bloody hair!” Harry’s had his fair share of existential crises in his life. He’s well acquainted with the feeling, and this one is going near the top of the list.

Ron, the bastard, shrugs. Shrugs! Like a pink-haired Malfoy is not only a normal occurrence, but is even expected.

“I didn’t notice it at first, to be honest,” he says, and Harry throws him a look of such vicious resentment that the potted Dragon Snap in the corner stops smoking and curls its leaves over its head. Ron just gives him a shit-eating grin in return.

Discouraged by his apparently un-threatening aura, Harry glances away in time to see Malfoy get a hearty pat on the shoulder (he doesn’t like that, either) and turn towards— towards them.

“Er, Ron?” Harry asks. “Who was assigned to the Finley case?” He knows the answer before he gets it, but still can’t look away from the cutting figure Malfoy makes as he saunters towards them in swirling black robes.

“That would be us,” Ron says cheerfully. “Buckle up and tuck in, mate. Your hard-on is showing.”

Harry is not hard, not even a little, but his panicked struggle to tug the mercilessly short Auror robes over his lap leaves him wrinkled and guilty-looking when Malfoy reaches them.

“Gentlemen,” Malfoy says cooly, and Harry thinks his cheeks must be the color of Malfoy’s hair.

“Harry’s hot for your hair,” Ron says. Harry chokes. “He’s also not read the case file, so I’ll leave you two to it. Don’t come looking for me, I’ll be taking an extended lunch. Looking forward to working with you.”

He throws them both a saucy wink and leaves with all the smugness of a man who’s done his yearly good deed. Harry’s going to murder him before the day is done.

Silence descends over their cubicle. Malfoy eyes Ron’s chair, but wisely chooses to remain standing. Harry notices belatedly that his robes are trimmed in silver, the same shade at his eyes.

“Potter.”

“Malfoy,” Harry acknowledges with a polite nod. The stillness around them is most certainly plummeting towards awkward.

“I heard you like my—”

“Have you read the—”

They both speak at the same time. Malfoy blinks, startled. When he doesn’t finish his sentence, Harry tries again.

“Have you not been debriefed on—”

“I noticed you changed your—”

They wisely decide to shut up. There’s a used staple on the corner of Harry’s desk, and he reaches over to fiddle with it just for something to do.

“Staples,” Malfoy says out of the blue. He looks like he regrets his volume, and it occurs to Harry that he probably feels just as uncomfortable. This is the first time they’ve spoken beyond polite greetings in four years, and neither is sure what to expect. It makes Harry feel better, somehow, to know that he’s not the only one feeling utterly wrongfooted.

“Yes,” Harry says. “Staples?”

Malfoy swallows. His neck is a long expanse of smooth skin, and Harry vaguely wonders what it tastes like. “We might make use of them on the case. Staples, I mean. Have you any more?”

Harry frowns, his discomfort dissipating. “Yeah, in the supply closet. But we just use Sticking Charms— don’t you?”

“Yes,” Malfoy says quickly. “We do. But we could try staples from the supply closet.”

It’s Harry’s turn to deploy the Look. Malfoy frowns at him like he doesn't get it, but Harry’s not really in the mood for deduction.

“So,” Harry says instead, “Auror work. Are you looking forward to it?”

There’s a shift in Malfoy’s stance, and his grey eyes skim over the lines of Harry’s body. “Parts of it,” he says. His tone is a little off. Husky.

“Sore throat?” Harry asks in what he hopes is a sympathetic manner.

“Sometimes,” Malfoy says cryptically. Harry’s not having the greatest time puzzling out his strange behavior and responses— they leave him floundering for something else to say.

“Are you going to tell me what’s in that fancy file or do I have to read it?” Harry finally asks, jerking his chin towards the papers tucked under Malfoy’s arm. He sincerely hopes Malfoy will volunteer to summarize for him. It’s because Harry’s glasses are giving him a headache and not at all because he likes the sound of Malfoy’s voice.

Malfoy’s cheeks flush a little. Harry wonders if he’s coming down with something, even as he struggles not to think of the color as attractive. “Protocol dictates that you read case information yourself,” Malfoy says, “but I suppose I wouldn’t mind speeding things along so we can get started. Maybe… over coffee? Or lunch?”

Harry tries not to let his dismay show on his face. “We have to work through lunch?” he asks. It sounds pathetic even to his own ears.

“Oh my fucking Merlin, he’s asking you out!” Cho shouts over the cubicle wall. Harry and Malfoy both jump.

“No, he’s not!” Harry shouts back, cheeks flaming.

“Yes, I am,” Malfoy says. Harry drops the used staple.

“You are?”

“Am I?”

“I don’t bloody know!”

“Well,” Malfoy starts, but seems to realize he doesn’t have a leg to stand on. “Well— you like my hair.”

“And that’s enough reason to ask me out for coffee?”

Harry really has no idea why he’s arguing. This is Malfoy— pink-haired, blushing Malfoy— handing himself over on a silver-trimmed platter, and he mentally slaps himself for putting up any sort of resistance.

“I like your hair,” Malfoy admits. He seems to regret saying it, and tries to make up for his embarrassment by adopting a suave position leaning against Harry’s desk. He misses and stumbles slightly before righting himself.

“Don’t worry, Malfoy,” Cho calls again. “He’s been wetting himself over you for years, he’s bound to say yes.”

“Well, he’s not saying it,” Malfoy mutters.

“Yes I am.”

“You— you are?”

“Am I?”

Malfoy stops and stares at him. Opens his mouth, frowns a little. There’s a wonderful feeling in Harry’s chest.

“I’m just fucking with you,” Harry says over a smile. “Let’s go.”

Malfoy orders a strawberry milkshake at lunch. Harry doesn’t get dessert, but he still feels very… pink.

Read on Ao3

#drarry #prompt #drarrymicrofic #it was for the prompt so ill tag it as micro lol #vina writes

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unnecessarywriting · 3 years

Text

Mr. Protector Man - George Weasley

Request: Hey i never ask for a request before but here: like George and female reader are together and she is the daughter of Sirius then the year with Umbridge come and wont leave the reader alone because of her last name then George get very protective and make sure nothing bad is gonna happened to the reader. Ps i really like your writing! AND Hii! I like your writing and i was wondering if u could write a George Weasley imagine where the reader is Sirious Black daughter and its during the year where Umbridge is there and she’s giving a hard time to the reader and George is there to protect her and help her? Sorry this is veery long! Thank you

A/N: Thank You for Requesting. BTW Requests are always open. I kinda ran with this idea and played up dad!Sirius because I love that image. I hope you all enjoy it. Thank you!

Mr. Protector Man

There were only a few weeks left of your summer before you returned for Hogwarts for the final time, at least as a student. Your years at Hogwarts had been filled with twists thanks to the appearance of one Harry Potter, but you really couldn’t complain. In fact, you were quite grateful for his appearance. With someone with a more famous name than yours, you could finally move out of the spotlight and into something that you could call confidence. Not that you were not a confident person, but the constant reminder that your father was a murderer didn’t help in the whole “making friends” part of your life. Luckily, a pair of twins made their way into your life, and you could never explain how eternally grateful you were for their presence.

In your fifth year, however, the attention turned back to you when your father escaped Azkaban. It would have been terrible for you, had you not had Fred and George constantly reminding you of how incredible you were. Overtime, however, you grew more comfortable with the knowledge that your father was free, and when Remus met with you to tell you all that he had learned, you were ecstatic. Finally, you could say that your father was worth the love that you had stored away for him.

Your sixth year also brought about changes to your personality. You found that your confidence grew since people were no longer talking about you and your father. To say that you were grateful Harry was placed in the tournament was selfish, but you were happy to know that you could live your life without being put on trial for everything that you said and did because of your last name. Throughout that year, you were able to send a couple of letters to Sirius that were filled with your life story. He was thankful that you grew up to be happy and didn’t suffer at the hands of muggles like Harry did. All he ever wanted for you was for you to be happy, so when the summer came around, he was stuck at Grimmauld Place, you jumped at the opportunity to finally be with your dad. There were people, those that will not be mentioned, who thought that this was a terrible idea, but Remus suggested that this would be a good opportunity for the both of you.

When you finally moved in, you were nervous to be around the man who was never there to raise you. There was a part of you that resented him, but you understood the circumstances and swallowed your pride. When he saw you for the first time, he practically burst into tears, and you didn’t hesitate to launch yourself into your arms. You were both filled with joy at the thought of finally being able to become a sort of dysfunctional family. The rest of the day was filled with tears and laughter as he told you about his school days and you told him about yours. When Remus came to visit the happy family, he was shocked by how quickly you two got along. He thought there would be some awkwardness, but instead it felt as if the two of you had been together the whole time. He was delighted to see one of his oldest friends return to the world of the happy and see his smile be genuine.

When the Weasley family joined what felt like a party of two, you were even more excited than before, although you were slightly disappointed at the loss of time that was going to be spent with your father. Your routine had changed to accommodate the gingers, but worst of all, you had to keep things under control with George. Sirius was aware that you were seeing someone, but he chose not to think too much into it. It wasn’t until he found the two of you cuddled up on the couch that he realized that your boyfriend was sleeping in the room right beside yours. Now, cue the protective father instinct, and you find Padfoot sleeping in the hallway between the two doors most nights. The problem with this logic was that Sirius was a deep sleeper, and so long as you didn’t step on the poor dog, you could get away with just about anything. You easily tiptoed across his sleeping body to find your boyfriend. George was worried about making this move, so he often let you do it to avoid him losing his life.

With only a few days left, you found that you were beginning to worry about what school would be like when you got back. There were rumors spreading and false information making its way into headlines. Both you and Harry were at risk to some bad treatment from the school, but you just remembered all of the stories Sirius told you about his time at Hogwarts and tried to channel his cool energy. Sirius could sense your change in demeanor, but he chose not to question it. He even looked to George to see if he noticed it as well, and he was pleasantly surprised to see that your attentive boyfriend was indeed acknowledging these small changes. They both wrote it off as some before school jitters, but Sirius and George were still worried about you.

Now, fast forward to meeting the pink toad. Everything in your body ached at the sound of her shrill voice. More than anything, you wanted to throw something at her in hopes of finally shutting her up. It wasn’t until your first class with her, that you really began to feel hatred bubble up inside of you. You were aware of how she mistreated others, especially Harry, so you tried to stay off her radar. Sadly, she was very aware of who you were and reminded you of it every chance she got.

“Miss Black, please put away your wand.” You grimaced at her voice but maneuvered your wand away from the view of the wretched woman. You sighed and started writing down the useless information from the book. Everything that was written down and published was nearly a lie. You put your head in your hand and continued to sketch down those ideas of what a useless institution called “defense against the dark arts.” How was this even true? You lived with Remus and for a while with your father. Both people taught you defense knowing that your last name would be troublesome. This information was vital to your life, but this class was killing you slowly.

“Ahem,” her voice made you want to shove the quill into your ears. “Miss Black, sit up straight and show some respect. It seems that you cannot act like a lady in this class. I will see you in detention tonight. Maybe then you will learn how not to act like the daughter of a murderer.” You scoffed, but you remained quiet. You thought back to your last talk you had with Sirius.

“You know, there are still going to be people who will say things about me.” You sighed at your father.

“Of course I know. I know the truth though, and for now that’s all that matters.” Sirius smiled at your commentary, but he knew that words about your family can hurt, especially when they are pointed at you. He was someone who was unaware of the comments that can be made. He was worried before you were born that his name would be troublesome, but there was never a time that he believed that it would be his own fault.

“I need you to understand that it is not your duty to defend me. The world will not believe the truth, especially given these times. They don’t believe Harry or Dumbledore, which means that they are not going to believe you. Please, promise me that you will take care of yourself first.” You reluctantly nodded your head.

“Fine, but I’m not going to be happy about it. I hate being a reflection of a lie.” You wanted the rest of the wizarding world to know what an amazing man your father was. You wanted to be seen as more than the daughter of someone who murdered his friends without a second thought. You gave your father a hug and murmured a promise to him that you meant to keep.

As you stand before the door that led to the devil, you questioned why you would make a promise that constituted you to put yourself in danger and to lose all that you had worked so hard to maintain in your life. Your night was spent with a throbbing, bloody hand, and a single tear that was not for the physical pain, but the emotional loss you acquired by allowing this witch to have an impact.

The following weeks, you met with the toad in detention. Most of the time, they were small offenses that typically would go unnoticed by other professors. You kept your word to your father the entire time, despite the physical and emotional turmoil of these events. The word “insubordinate” stained your hand and was a constant reminder of how you felt. You felt useless and worthless. This didn’t go unnoticed. George saw this change in your behavior. Your smile was forced, and your eyes were red with tears that he was certain met only your pillow. He knew that he had to take action. He felt terrible for doing something before, but he never knew how bad it was until he saw you that one night in the hallway.

You sat down on the ground and let your back trace the freezing bricks. You took your hand and wrapped it in a bandage, something you knew to bring with you now. You placed the wrapped hand against the wall, as a way to numb the stinging. You didn’t let any tears fall. Instead, you stared ahead of you and drowned out any noises. That was how George found you. He walked over to you and sat down beside you. No words were shared in this exchange. He didn’t know what to say or do to help, so he stayed by your side in silence, hoping that you would say something.

“I’m sorry that you have to see me like this. I will head back up to my dorm and get some sleep. You should too.” You stood up and placed a chaste kiss on cheek and walked briskly to your dorm. George watched your retreating form and realized that he failed to protect you like he wished he could. He made a promise to himself that he would not allow anything else to happen to you.

You were sitting in the great hall when George appeared beside you. He pulled you into his body and kept his arm over your shoulder. You forced another smile and tried not to get emotional. It felt strange to be held like you were so important to someone. George didn’t let you go for a while. Then you both made your way to the classroom that was known to bring pain and grief to many of the students. You sat down and tried to keep your cool. No matter how hard you tried to not cause any trouble, the woman always found a way to bring attention to you in a negative light.

“Miss Black, you should know by now that I am not a fan of your attitude, but this is unacceptable.” You weren’t even sure what she was lecturing you about. Honestly, you couldn’t care less what the issue was.

“Professor, I think you should be respectful of this girl. She has done nothing wrong. You just don’t like her because you don’t like her last name. You should mind your tongue.” Those harsh and direct words came from the mouth of the one person who would always have your back.

“Mr. Weasley, I will see both you and Miss Black in detention. Now, sit down and do your work.” George scoffed and walked over to where you were sitting.

“I don’t think so. This class is over for today as far as I’m concerned.” His act of defiance came to a close with you being led out by him with a shocked look on the woman’s face.

“George. George, stop it right now. We can’t just walk out of class. We are going to get into more trouble.” As you two continued down the hall he stopped abruptly.

“No Y/N. I am not going to stop. You’re the one who needs to stop lying to me. You can’t keep letting her have an effect on you. We both know that you are so much more than the reputation that comes with your name. She’s just jealous that you are more famous and pure than she ever will be. She’s a disgrace to the world. Not your dad, and most certainly not you.” His words brought the tears back. His love for you was unbelievably pure and unconditional.

As George watched you fall apart in front of him, he held you. You clung to him as if he was going to disappear if you let go. You both stood in the middle of this empty hallway without a care in the world. Neither of you were aware of how much time was spent there. Your tears started to dry, and your hiccups eventually dissipated, much to your appreciation. You two only became aware of your surroundings when the sound of footsteps echoed.

“Mr. Weasley, Miss Black. Why aren’t you in class?” You turned your head in the direction of Professor Mcgonagall. As she saw your tear stained expression, her face dropped. She assumed what the issue was. Throughout your years at Hogwarts, she saw a lot of Sirius in you. You reminded her of the chaos your father and his friends brought to school, but you also reflected his kindness and sincerity. There had always been some dissonance between you and some of the professors, but she had always had a soft spot for you. With the terror of the woman in pink, she could only assume that you and Harry were getting the brunt of it. The Weasley twins as well, but she suspected that they were intentional in their actions.

“Sorry professor, but I couldn’t sit there and listen to her talk to Y/N like that any longer.”

“Please professor, it was my fault. Don’t let George get in any trouble for protecting me.” You couldn’t handle knowing that you were the reason George was in trouble two times in the span of an hour with two different professors.

“Did you two receive detention from her?” You both nodded. “Well, I will make sure that it is spent with me instead. Now, I don’t expect you to return to that class, but please try to be punctual to the others. Oh, and Miss Black, don’t let her words get to you. We both know the truth.” She offered you a smile and assured you both that she would see you in her office for detention, which you both know would not be a real detention.

That night, you sat by George and talked. For the first time in too long, the two of you discussed how you were feeling.

“Y/N you know that your name is not a representation of you. Her words are nothing more than a jealous filled disgust. She holds the opinion of the ministry who refuses to acknowledge the truth of our times. But I need you to come to me if she ever says or does anything to you when I am not around. I will always do what I can to be there for you because you are worth the world.” You shifted to move closer to his body, and you nodded. You were grateful to him for being there as your voice when you couldn’t be there for yourself.

“Thank you Georgie for being there for me. I love you so much.” He chuckled quietly.

“I love you too, but this wasn’t a one time thing. I am here to be your hero, which I have already proved to be earlier, if I might add. You and I are going to do this together, and I’m not going to let her hurt you anytime soon. I will, however, be working with Fred to get some revenge going. You are welcome to join me, but you can’t be out in the field with us. I’m not going to let you get caught, and get into more trouble. Understood?”

“Yes George, I understand.” You giggled. “Mr. Protector Man.”

“That was all you came up with? I’m ashamed.” He laughed, and you joined in.

“Give me time, I’ll come up with something better eventually.”

When you returned to Grimmauld Place for the holidays, you were ecstatic. Your dad was just as happy to see you, especially to spend the holidays with you for the first time since you were an infant. Sirius was also aware that he owed a lot to your boyfriend. George had sent a letter to his mother that included an additional note for Sirius. He wrote about the issues that you were dealing with due to the pink witch, and how you did everything you could to uphold your promise to him, despite the physical pain you endured. Sirius was proud of you for being strong, but he felt guilty knowing how hurt you were because of him again.

“Y/N, come here. I think we should talk.” You walked over to your dad and sat down beside him. “I know you made a promise to me earlier on, but I hope that we can acknowledge that this woman is not worth your time and energy. I know, because you're a lot like me, that you want to tell her off, and I think maybe you should. I just need you to be careful about it, because I don’t want you getting hurt anymore.” You nodded and thought about all that you wanted to say to her. You always bit your tongue, but you also thought that maybe it was a blessing in disguise that you never told her off. George knew exactly what to do and say to avoid you getting into any more trouble, but you knew that if you spoke your mind, then you probably would get into more serious trouble.

“Thank you, but I think I’ll keep silent a little longer. Plus, I’ve been helping Fred and George with their pranks, so I think that is enough for now.” Sirius’ face lit up knowing that you pranked the toad. That is exactly what he and James would have done.

“So, this George guy,” Sirius began with a smirk on his face, “I approve of him. He’s a good one, and I’m happy he’s with you.” You smiled at your dad.

“Me too. He really is the best.”

“I think him and I need to have a word though.” You sighed at him and gave him a knowing look. “It won’t be anything bad, entirely.” You laughed and stood up and patted him on the back jokingly.

George appeared in the doorway and made his way over to your father. You left the two of them alone, knowing that their conversation was going to be a good one.

After a long while, longer than you expected, George reappeared.

“So, what did you two talk about?” You urged, pointing a finger at his chest.

“You know, a little of this, a little of that. He just wants to know that you’re happy and that I am doing my job. Protecting you of course, and he offered a nice little threat that I should never even think about hurting you because then he would willingly find himself back in Azkaban.” You gasped playfully, knowing that your father would never actually hurt him, and that George could never hurt you either.

“Well, the ministry thinks he is a murderer, so who knows what he might do.”

“I am your own personal Mr. Protector Man, so I don't think that he is going to be able to touch me.” You both laughed at his comment.

“I thought you hated that name. You told me you were ashamed.”

“It’s growing on me. I love you Miss Black, surname and all.”

“I love you too Mr. Weasley, but I think I like Mr. Protector Man a bit more.” You giggled and rested your head on his chest.

#harry potter x reader #george weasley imagine #george weasley x reader #fred weasley imagine #fred Weasley x reader #sirius black imagine #sirius black x reader

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