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#MADAM DID U NOT READ THE BOOK COVER
achillesunly · 2 years
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So I've read Pride and Prejudice this last few days,
and it's a *delightful* book, and I'm so surprised coz usually I despise classics (Im lookin at u Zola you son of a bitch and you too Forster it's too damn long and I'm bored) and Austen is just so nice to read and it's funny and gasp-inducer and now I want to talk in classic English but I unfortunately cannot hold the hope of the idea of practicing such a speaking manner for it is to make me far too jumpy and irritated, without giving proper rest for my nerves.
And I kinda want to have what they had coz the scene of, at netherfield like, with the letters and miss bingley and the argument, well basically actually every encounter where they try to fuck the other up i-the FLAVOUR LMAOO the enemies to lovers was so fucken strong I'm -god I wanna write essais on this IF ONLY MY PROFESSORS WOULD LET ME DO IT FOR MY CREDITS,I SH-, I'm ready for a man to try me I'll fuck him up then we'll fight and resolve it with the most graceful shit and then, we'll settle in his nicey castle bro.
(it hurts to read such masterpiece and then go back to writing of our time. Like what you're reading rn. It hurts, doesn't it? )
Anyways fellas
So I looked for the tag on Tumblr to laugh at Darcy naturally, BUT there aren't much posts on the BOOK rather on the MOVIEs (2005)
So Ive watched it
Well
It's much shorter obv but I'd take the same cast and make them do a movie of fourteen hours long to cover the book from start to finish they re so good
In the book the romance is much explained (very well so don't get me wrong it's very good, with references and hints and grace it's beautiful very so very good sometimes I lost it and straight up ran my garden up and down a few times) rather in the movie it's more felt
I think a mix of both would atteint perfection absolutely but damn.
(I mean I know in movies you can SHOW so it's easier to make audience FEEL, but it's no excuse miss Austen, because I have read Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation, and let me tell you good madam, I have felt things I never knew then and now how to explain and it made me cry and blush and so much more).
((I would be so down to talk about the book (and movie maybe) for hours on end, it's graceful and the writing must have taken so damn long given the actually phrasing and grammar and choice of words I cannot. It has ugh i. it's so. I DONT HAVE WORDS. I have so many favourite passages jesus. Tho the ones where we don't have otp shit are obv much more boring but yaknow, gotta make the characters live and grow imaright. I want to have something delicate like that in life and to like. Feel it. Actually live it must be . Wow. I cannot express in words. Yes))
Speaking of the book again. I sat there like. Damn. Whenever there were a Mr Darcy mentionned I was JDHEH YES MISTA DAURCY I love this emo introvert bastard so much hugh and ELIZABETH WHATA WOMAN good gracious
If anyone wants to watch it here is the link from where I just did, and I strongly encourage you to do so, but not as much as I encourage you to read the fuckin book you whores:
https://fsharetv.co/movie/pride-&-prejudice-episode-1-tt0414387
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woobifiedvillain · 3 years
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Content warnings are always a good thing but the one use of them where it's weird is stuff that like. Is somehow both overexplanatory for what should be a default assumption, and yet not enough to clarify beyond what the assumption would already tell you.
Like I had to edit an article today where, in under 600 words, the writer mentioned "content may not be suitable for everyone" and "mentions death" at least 5 times. Which. Okay. Except. It was an article about books, specifically books, which were described in the title and the actual article as "Southern Noir Murder Mysteries". Like. Yeah I fucking hope so! I'm certainly not reading this book to avoid death as a topic??
But it would have been ok if she had even clarified what she was warning for?? Like ok the Murder Mystery contains death. The Noir genre, and a book in adult fiction, may not be suitable for a child, or even a teen. Yes....but duh. But why do you keep repeating allusions to the content? Is it remarkably violent for the expectations already established by the genre and intended audience? Is there some specific scene you have in mind? Like?? Wh???
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inhuman-obey-me · 3 years
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Excuse me! it’s just me, this blog’s stalker because your works amazing. I kinda am in love with your demon’s nature series. I if I could request something. Could you possible do MC seeing the brothers do something that is “demonic”. Similar to what happens in the series. Thank you!!!!
Hello!! Haha, thank you -- we’re so glad you like our content! ;u;
And I’m glad that you enjoy the Demon’s Nature series! It’s been a lot of fun to write.
Sorry this took a bit! I wasn’t sure if you wanted this to be something with one of the brothers or all of them, so I ended up doing little short blurbs for each of the brothers and MC accidentally catching them doing something demonic/violent. Tried to keep them all pretty short, which was hard.
[Mod Cosmos]
MC accidentally catching the Demon Brothers being Demonic/Violent
content warning: blood/gore, body horror (especially in Beel’s), and general violence
Note: This is through the perspective of an MC that knows that the demons do their thing, but perhaps doesn't want to see it happening in front of them.
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LUCIFER
You were supposed to go shopping together after meetings for the day were finished, and he had told you to just wait an additional thirty minutes so that he could finish up some business. Thirty minutes passed, but there was still no word from him, so you decide you’ll go and see what was holding that workaholic up. You soon realize that was a mistake.
You hear muffled cries, and a familiar deep voice. Cautiously, you approach the source of these sounds -- a room located off a dark corridor. You didn’t think there were any classrooms here, and your curiosity got the better of you -- so you approach the door, peeking through the crack. You recognize the intimidating silhouette and --- there’s blood. There was another figure in the room, their body limp on the ground in a puddle of red, the mighty first-born’s claws tearing through flesh. A loss of balance in your surprise results in you tumbling into the room, earning a sharp turn from Lucifer, whose crimson eyes were wide in surprise. His wings spread out to try and shield the unsavory scene from you.
“MC, you were supposed to wait for me.” His voice is stern, but there’s a gentleness to it. He sees the queasy look on your face, and decides he can put this torment to an end. With a swift motion, he fully blocks your line of sight before slitting the lesser demon’s throat. He then turns back to you, lightly embracing your body with black feathers. His voice is soft as he did not want to frighten you. “I’m sorry, you weren’t supposed to see that. Let’s get you home, shall we? I’ll make you some tea.”
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MAMMON
It had just been a scratch. A low-level demon had taken a swipe at you in passing, but hadn’t been able to cut too deep. Mammon insisted he was just running off to get a bandaid after you insisted he didn’t need to go after the other demon. He said that he’d be right back--”I’m just gettin’ a bandage, I swear!”-- and told you not to move an inch. But this bandage quest was taking longer than it should have, so you go after him, pressing a loose cloth against your wound. And there he was, having cornered the offending demon. He seems to be staking the demon in the arm with a sharp metal object, speaking in a tongue you couldn’t understand.
You hadn’t even realized you had dropped the Majolish bag from your hand, not until it hit the ground with a thud and Mammon whipped around to see you there. A flash of guilt appears on his features, his eyes going between you and the lowly demon. He drops them, though he can’t resist one more swift kick to their chest before running back to you.
“I told ya I’d be right back!” He’s about to cup your face in his hands, but retracts them as he realizes they’re covered in blood. “Uh, okay, let’s go get that,” he motions to your injury, “...taken care of, yeah?” He mumbles a sorry as he picks up the bag you dropped before ushering you away from the scene, promising he’d do whatever he needed to do to make up for having to witness it.
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LEVIATHAN
You’re browsing games at a shop, having tagged along with Leviathan who had been raving about a new release. At one point, however, Leviathan had vanished from your side. You now realize it’s been … quite some time, actually. You wander about the store, unable to find him anywhere. Did he step outside? You decide to check, missing the anxious glance from the clerk behind the counter.
You hear some sounds from the alley by the shop. Is that … someone choking? Worried, you round the corner to make sure whoever it was is okay -- only to see the one doing the strangling was Leviathan himself. He had his tail tightly wrapped around the other demon’s throat, and … what, what was that inky substance leaking from their eyes? Leviathan caught your shadow against the alley wall, turning to you with a slightly panicked look.
“M-MC!” His tail quickly slithered off and away from the demon’s throat, leaving them to collapse to the ground. He’s suddenly at your side, hands on your shoulders as he turns you around and makes you walk out of the alley with him, murmuring something about how the venom will take care of the rest. “S-sorry about that, MC. You look a little sick … let’s get that game and go home and play, okay?”
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SATAN
You had been ambling through an aisle in the grand Royal Library, wondering what random book you should pick up next to flip through idly. Satan had wanted to spend a quiet day reading and studying together, to which you readily obliged. But it was easy to forget just how large the Royal Library was -- what floor were you on again? -- and you wonder if you should head back to where the two of you had set up. Then you suddenly hear a distant crash. It seemed to be coming from one of the meeting rooms at the back, and you couldn’t help but want to take a peek to see what had happened.
“Fuck you!” You knew that voice, and you knew that anger. There was a muffled yell, and what sounded like shattering glass. Then there’s a chilling, mocking laughter, and you can feel the goosebumps starting to cover your skin. You nervously approach the slightly ajar door, and there he is, his tail impaling another demon with its sharp ridges. Oh, there is fury burning in those eyes -- ones that shift to land on you, and that glowing fury is replaced with exasperation.
“MC!” Your name comes out as a hiss, but he quickly tosses the other demon, slamming them into the wall. “You…” He’s unsure what to say, his wrath calming at the sight of you, especially with that look on your face. “I … I’m sorry, I just had to take care of something. Please, let’s go. We can talk about this later.”
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ASMODEUS
The music is loud, the drinks are pouring, and you’re having an absolutely wonderful night out clubbing with Asmodeus. You were returning from the bar with two drinks in hand for the both of you, thanking one of the security guards on your way for managing the crowd of fans that had now dispersed, only to find that Asmodeus was not to be found at your table. He had left a note-- “BRB! ♡”--with lipstick on a napkin. You waited, sipping your drink as you demon watched from your seat. Some time passes, and you realize you’ve finished your drink a bit more quickly than intended. There’s still no sign of him, so you might as well go get another.
On the way to the bar, however, you pass by what you assumed was the hall to the restrooms, and you hear a desperate “I’m sorry!” cutting through the heavy bass. Should you be concerned? Well, you decide to at least be nosy, so you slip into the hall to see what was going on -- and are met with the sight of Asmodeus holding a heart he had carved out of some poor demon’s chest. In your shock, your empty glass slips through your fingers and crashes to the floor, earning your demon’s attention.
“Oh, MC!” Despite his surprise to see you, he gives you a smile -- one that gives you chills as you see blood spattered on his face. “Ah, what a mess…” He lets the lesser demon slide to the floor, debating on what to do with the organ in hand, but hides it behind his back for now, coming over to place a quick kiss on your cheek. “Sorry about that, darling. I’m just going to go clean up, so wait for me at the table, ‘kay?”
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BEELZEBUB
You had agreed to go with him to Madame Scream’s after finishing up classes for the day, but he was running late. He’s not picking up any calls, either, so you decide to go to where his last class would have been -- maybe they were just running way over, and he hadn’t realized the time? The hall is quiet, and you end up reaching an empty classroom. Walking back out, you decide to try calling him again. Ring, ring. After a moment, you realize you can hear Beelzebub’s ringtone in the distance, and you follow your ears to where his D.D.D. and ultimately he himself must be.
You weren’t prepared for what you saw next. A head of bright orange hair buried in a lesser demon’s abdomen, the sound of squelching and slurping from his feasting sounding so much more insidious than usual.
“Beel!” You can’t help but cry out his name in shock, which causes him to jolt upright -- with intestines still hanging from his mouth. Oh, you were going to be sick …
“MC … sorry, Lucifer always says I need to work on my table manners … “ He gulps down what was left hanging, but his eyes widen when it registers just who caught him in the act. “Oh, uh, guess that’s not the point, huh … “ He sheepishly wipes at his mouth with some torn cloth that you can only assume came from his victim, standing up and walking around to block your view of the mangled body. “I’ll clean this up, and then … well, we can do whatever you want to do. Sorry, MC …”
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BELPHEGOR
You’re looking around for where Belphegor could possibly be napping. Beelzebub had to go to Fangol practice and asked that you make sure his twin got home, as he had seemed even more tired today than usual. He’s not in the Western Courtyard, so you head to the Southern Courtyard next. You think you remember him saying that was one of his favorite spots…
You perk up as you spot the ever-familiar cow patterned pillow, but you fail to see the demon that was usually attached to it. Peering around the area, worry starts to set in -- and then you hear a scream. It certainly didn’t belong to Belphegor, but the gears in your mind start turning and you run to where the scream came from. Of course, no one else was around here -- it wasn’t the busiest area on campus in the first place. Turning a corner, you see just what you feared -- Belphegor had his claws at another demon’s throat, his barbed tail wrapped around their body and squeezing them tight. You feel weak, the scenario a bit too close for comfort as you recall what he had done to you in the past.
“MC?” Belphegor turned to see you, his eyes wide. He must have sensed your presence at some point, or maybe your heart was pounding much louder than you realized. He drops the other demon, growling something you can’t make out to them, and then slowly approaches you. He sees you tense up, causing him to stop in his tracks. He averts his gaze, not wanting to meet your eyes as he tries to figure out what to say. “I just … had to deal with something. You … you can head on home first, if you want. I understand.”
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anordinarymuse · 3 years
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Hey girly could u maybe write something where one of the marauders ( u can pick ) is comforting y/n on her period- because I just gone mine and I feel icky🥺 thank you!!
the way i stopped everything to try and think of how to write this. and i hope you feel better !!! being uncomfy on your period really sucks, so feel better take pain meds (if you can) and drink water <3
cramps.
Sirius Black x Reader
Summary : another period oneshot bc i love.
Warnings : blood; eating; swearing; mention of pregnancy; unedited.
Word Count : 781
A/N : the way the first time i read your request i thought you wanted all the marauders so i spent two days trying to think of how it'd work only to reread it and see that you wrote one- but it's all good bc this is so cute hehe :3
the masterlist.
request here.
"Did you see Snivellus' reaction after what I did to him in potions today?" Sirius grins, while mimicking Snape's expression. He had put something in Snape's cauldron, causing it to explode. It was so bad that even Professor Slughorn took points off of Slytherin.
"Priceles- oh shit," your books drop out of your hands, clutching your stomach while stumbling. You grab Sirius' arm for support, but miss it. Within the few seconds you had been walking, the pain of a million knives pierces into you stomach.
Sirius quickly takes hold of your underarms, trying to keep you standing up. You sink into his arms, scrunching your eyes trying to bear the unbearable pain.
Sirius helps stagger you to the wall, and you lean against it. Your arm squeezes around your waist, and you clench your stomach to try and numb the pain.
The pain almost subdues, but as soon as you relax, your body cramps up again.
"Are you ok Y/N? Should we go to Madame Pomfrey?" Sirius asks, eyeing you with worry as he picks up your fallen books.
"No it's fine, I went to her this morning..." you mumble, biting your cheek to distract the pain to somewhere else.
"She couldn't heal you?" His eyes go wide at the thought of Madame Pomfrey not being to heal your cramps. He then whispers in a hushed tone, "You aren't-"
"No I'm not pregnant you arse," you manage the let out a breathful giggle. "I'm just-" you cringe as you feel a pool of blood release from your body. "-I'm just...on my period," you groan quietly, for only Sirius to hear.
"Can you walk?" He asks, glancing at your clenched stomach and pained face.
"Um..." perhaps saying you couldn't was being a bit dramatic, but to be fair the idea of walking right now did not seem intriguing, "...no."
"Then I guess I'm just going to have to carry you like a baby," he sighs shaking his head, but he can't hide his playful grin.
"Wait wha-" you hadn't fully comprehended what he had said until you were being carried like a bride down the corridors of the castle.
Somehow your books had ended up in your hands, and you covered your face with the object. You were completely embarrassed, but still you giggle the whole way down.
Sirius beams as he carries you, even having the nerve to wave at fellow peers. When you take small peeks at him his grin is wide, and his eyes full of mischief mixed with pride.
Sirius marches the two of you into Gryffindor Common Room, and upon entering James wolf-whistles, flushing your cheeks an even redder shade of crimson. Lily and Marlene break into a fit of hysterics. Remus raises a brow looking between you and Sirius while Peter just smiles, going along with James.
You wanted to die of humiliation.
Sirius, on the other hand, beamed even brighter. That was the only thing keeping your sanity.
Sirius carries you to his dorm, laying you gracefully on his bed. The whole time he had paraded you around, you had completely forgotten about your sufferings.
As soon as Sirius lets go of you, the sharp jabs in the stomach return.
"Fuck," slips your lips, and you quickly grab the pillow that's beside you. You push the pillow against your stomach in a weak attempt to lessen the pain.
"Shit- here I'll lay beside you," Sirius flops onto the bed next to you, causing you to float in the air for the most split of seconds. "Do you need anything?"
Pressing you lips together with the upmost of force, you can only mutter out a reply, "No- j-just stay right there."
Sirius takes your hand, squeezing it, "I love you...ok? And besides I have something that'll make you feel really good."
"...you do?" You groan with a stifled giggle.
"Mhm," Sirius turns to rummage in his nightstand before handing you a chocolate frog. "Chocolate, makes everything feel better...right?"
You grin at the chocolate, tearing apart the wrapping and devouring the sweet, "Thank you...shit...this tastes really good." The milk chocolate melts in your mouth, and you savor the frequent treat.
"I love you, Y/N," he reassures, planting a sloppy kiss your cheek. "Let me know if you need anything else ok?"
"Ok...," you voice withers as you lean against his comforting shoulder.
"And the good news is..." he pauses for the dramatic effect, mystery filling the air, "...you aren't pregnant!" He cheers, laughing hysterically at his on joke.
"You fucking arse," you let out a laugh before closing your eyes, trying to rest, while blindly slapping his cheek with a good amount of force.
**********
taglist : @marimorena06 @missryerye @agirlwholovescoffee @nicole198205 @blackpinkdolan @gabitanaka47 @psychowanarchist @siriuspvdfoot @hufflepuffflowers @thatguppienamedbae @peachykeen3502 @missryerye @kaslupin @ayla-1605 @chazzyb73 @youngblood199456 @oranee @silly-little-bl0g @bobbyjohnsonbeat @jasgreen101 @will-to-live-who @erinblack003 @bellatrixscurls @krishavania @wh0re4blaise @thegirlwhocriedlupin @mrsaliciamalfoy @wwweasleystan @modernvellichor
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shadowsinger11 · 4 years
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You, The Stars And I
Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader
Word Count: 3.8k (oops)
Requested by @amira3113: Can I request a fic abt the reader seeing Fred and George comforting a kid after Umbridge punished him and the reader helps them and Fred thinks it's so cute what she is doing and she does the same and extra mega fluff, pls?🥺 you don't gotta do it if u don't want to btw.. so no pressure ;)
Warnings: A bit more angst than intended, Fred being a soft boi™️
A/N: I don't know how to feel, I just roasted myself hardcore with this and I'm feeling even more single. I'm sorry for not being able to use a 'keep reading' tab
Masterlist
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The sun fell asleep behind the endless hills, enveloped by dense, opaque darkness. Its golden rays no longer shone through the wide windows of the castle and instead let shadows creep into the long, empty hallways, revealing the ugly truth about what the school had turned into over the past few months.
The naked walls stood tall, towering over you and inching closer with every step you took, and you hung your head low, aiming to block out the singular buzzing thought in your head.
Hogwarts was no longer home.
Your heart ached at the memory of hundreds of students chattering and laughing all day long, freely walking around the school grounds and simply being children. You so terribly missed being careless and having fun without the fear of potentially facing a life-threatening punishment.
But now there was no laughter, only your footsteps echoed in the hallway.
You were headed straight to your common room, determined to go to sleep early. The curfew and the dozens of new restrictions prevented you from meeting your friends, and you hoped that sleep would at least somehow distract you from your worries for a couple of hours.
The deafening silence nearly caused you to miss the muffled sobs and quiet whispering, coming from a turn not far away. It seemed as though there were more than one voice speaking, and your chest clenched with dread.
You hurried your pace until you reached the source of the noise, and peeked from behind the wall.
The sight most definitely surprised you, but the pain in your chest only sharpened.
There, on a bench, Fred and George were sitting, hunched over a small boy, probably no older than a second year. You could tell by his green robes which house he was in, but his red, tear-stained face was what alarmed you.
You immediately approached him and fell to your knees. George was on his left, rubbing slow, soothing circles on his back, while Fred was on the other side, holding his small hand in his, on the back of which a few words glistened with fresh crimson blood.
I must not ask questions.
You sent the twins a questioning look, but Fred dismissed it by shaking his head; clearly that was not the time for an explanation, nor was one necessary to begin with.
You placed a hand on the boy's knee to make your presence known.
"Hey. How are you feeling?"
This only caused the child to sob harder and you internally cursed for having to go through this routine.
"It hurts…" he whimpered, "I thought Hogwarts was fun. I met friends last year and it was great. But now… Now I really want to go home."
Your jaw clenched and you swallowed hard, furious about seeing innocent children slowly losing faith and joy in life, turning into hollow shells of the amazing people they could have grown to become.
The horrifying experience would inevitably have a massive impact on them and unexplainable guilt twisted your stomach. And even though the long-term damage had already been done, you could at least take care of the temporary pain.
"It's not going to hurt for long, I promise," Fred whispered, tenderly playing with the boy's trembling fingers. "Ours are already fading."
"That's true, see?" George showed the back of his hand on which you could make out the faint, bloody words 'I must not cause trouble.', and you felt sick. "Soon you won't even remember it was there."
Tears stung in your eyes, but before you gave them a chance to fall, you turned to the redheads.
"I can heal the wound. Well, to an extent. If anything, I can lessen the pain," you began. "But I need to grab something from the Charms classroom."
Fred frowned, confused, "Wouldn't you need a potion for that? Why Charms?"
"Snape isn't the only one armored with potions for just in case things go wrong. And we can't risk going to the dungeons at this hour. It's not wise to tell Madam Pomfrey yet either."
The twins nodded. George said.
"It's not a good idea for all of us to go at once. I suggest one of us returns and covers the others up if necessary."
"I'll go with her," Fred stated without a second thought. "I can get them safely where they need to be, let her do her thing and bring them back."
Fred's eagerness to help filled you with warmth and for once that night you had the strength to smile, even for just a second.
"That sounds like plan then. But you should really take the map," George added, already pulling out the neatly folded Marauder's Map from his backpack. "Don't wanna risk getting caught by the ugly toad, you know."
"As if she'd be strolling down the hallways late at night. Doesn't she have hobbies?"
"Does hanging creepy pictures of cats on pink walls count as such?" you commented and the second year giggled, which made you feel slightly better as well.
Fred took the map from George and you grabbed the boy's hand.
"Good luck, guys. And, like, don't die."
"Woah, greatly encouraging, Georgie," you replied sarcastically, but appreciated it nonetheless. "You sure you'll be fine?"
"Absolutely. I got the route memorized like the back of my hand. I'll be careful."
And with that, George headed towards the Gryffindor Tower while you, Fred and the boy went in the opposite direction - the East Towers.
The night was eerily quiet, only the footsteps and shuddering breaths of the three of you keeping you sane. The soft light, gleaming at the tip of your wands, didn't do much to brighten the empty hallways which now seemed like endless voids of darkness.
Occasionally Fred would warn you about Filch's cat approaching, or Peeves causing trouble nearby, but fortunately, you reached the classroom sooner than expected.
"Alohomora," you whispered, but the door didn't bulge when you tried to open it.
Fred grinned, "Surely a Charms professor wouldn't let such a cliché unlock his own classroom."
"Shut up," you grumbled. "Aberto!"
The door opened. Fred's eyes widened in amusement and you flashed him a charming smile on your way in.
You placed the boy to sit on a desk as you and your friend rushed to look through drawers and chests for something useful. Most of them were full of basic items such as old books and quills, half-full jars of salamander blood, pearl dust and gillyweed, and after long fifteen minutes of not having found anything, you slid your back down against the wall, sighing in frustration.
Sleep-deprivation was kicking in, but your anxiety was getting stronger.
You needed to do something. Fast.
"What about this chest right here?" Fred asked from the other side of the classroom, pointing at something under Flitwick's desk.
You shook your head, "Doesn't open, already tried. Even if the cure is there, we can't get it."
"I take it your brilliant spells don't work anymore?" the redhead teased and you so badly wished to slap away the cocky smirk on his face. Or kiss it. There was something oddly attractive about the way he'd set your nerves on fire, and you hated yourself for enjoying it. Fred seemed to love it too.
"If you're only here to be annoying, just leave."
"I'm here to help too. I can multitask."
You nearly jumped from the ground to strangle him, and he clearly saw through your intentions because his toothy grin almost split his face in two. That bastard.
That super annoying, devilishly handsome bastard.
"Are you gonna keep staring at me, or are you coming? Not that I mind the attention," he shrugged.
You rose to your feet and made your way over to where he was standing, not granting him the pleasure of facing him, "Don't flatter yourself, Weasley. Your stupidity is simply impossible to be unnoticed."
Fred laughed, "Oh, so I was annoying and now I'm stupid too? Make up your mind, woman."
You pulled out your wand and smirked at him over your shoulder.
"You said it yourself that you can multitask. Aberto!"
Nothing.
Fred squinted his eyes as he stared at the wooden chest. What spell could the professor have possibly used? Could you have even heard of it? The chances of ever finding the precious item were becoming grimmer with each passing second and the inevitable sense of dread had started to settle in.
After a minute Fred finally spoke.
"I think your problem is that you're using spells that only work on doors. You need a charm which unlocks containers."
"You might be right. What would that be then?" you enquired, glancing at the redhead. He took his own wand out of his robes.
"I know a spell that's come in handy before. Hopefully it will work now," he wettened his lips and said. "Cistem Aperio!"
Blinding light caused you to cover you eyes,  and the chest opened with a loud thud which could have easily alerted the entire floor of your presence if it wasn't for the silencing charm you were lucky to have used when you first entered the classroom.
You finally dared to open your eyes and kneeled on the ground, carefully rummaging through fancy-looking boxes and vials sparking with liquids that seemed to be quite important.
"What are we looking for?" Fred asked as he crouched next to you.
"Wound-Cleaning Potion. Purple."
It was weird having Fred stand this close to you; sparks of electricity would pierce your heart every time his shoulder brushed against yours, or his fingers would accidentally graze yours. And when they did, they had you longing more and more for their touch, for their warmth.
But this warmth did not belong to you.
You swallowed down the disappointment and instead attempted to focus on the task at hand.
Just as you had expected, the precious crystal bottle was carefully wrapped in sparkling cloth and placed inside a box that was hidden deep in the corner of the chest. You breathed a sigh of relief and got on your feet, determined to stay away from Fred. For his sake and yours.
"Here it is," you smiled at the boy as you walked over to him. "Fred, can you get me some bandages from the drawer in the back?" you asked, pointing right behind him, and he did as he was told.
You took the hand of the young Slytherin and examined it closely - the wound was sure to leave a nasty scar, one that would never heal.
"Can you make it disappear?" he asked, fearfully.
Your heart dropped. But you replied with all the courage you could muster.
"I can try."
Fred was soon by your side and placed the medical items on the desk; a half-full packet of cotton, some bandages and a small box of bandaids. You muttered a 'thanks', not even looking at him, and opened the middle-sized bottle. It spread a characteristic smell of ashes, mint and lemon when you lifted it towards your nose - it was ready to use.
"So what now?" Fred asked.
Not granting him a reply, you simply took a small piece of the cotton and dipped the opening of the bottle into it, soaking it with a generous amount of the purple, dense liquid. The smell grew stronger.
Fred could only watch as you yet again gently grabbed the boy's hand and carefully dabbed the back of it; a thin steam of smoke soared from the contact of wet cotton and wounded flesh, purple mixing with red, and the kid hissed in pain. You worked attentively but quickly, with measured gestures and a straight face, and you missed the way Fred's eyes seemed to soften at the sight of you helping a small kid.
But one thing baffled him - why did you suddenly start acting so emotionless? Even towards the youngling who didn't know a thing. And though your expression seemed calm and collected, the Gryffindor noticed your tensed jaw.
What he wasn't aware of, however, was the racing speed of you heart, increasing each second. He wasn't aware of the short, shallow breaths you were taking because if you had allowed yourself to breathe freely, you'd certainly let out tears along with the deeps sighs.
Every move was calculated, every word and breath.
You pressed a fresh piece of cotton against the now cleaned wound and kept it there as you began to roll the bandage over it, securing it in place. When you were done, you placed a gentle, lingering kiss on the hand.
"There. It should do the trick."
The boy's face lit up and he hugged you, not giving you another choice but to wrap your arms around his small body. At least you had managed to bring him back some of the lost warmth.
"We should get him to his dorm," you told Fred and despite not facing him, he knew the words were directed towards him. That still didn't prevent the stinging pain in his chest from being so effortlessly avoided by you, and he frowned, bewildered by your unexpected coldness towards him.
Had he accidentally done anything to upset you? Were you mad at him? What for?
The boy jumped to his feet, visibly less burdened despite the present tear stains on his puffy cheeks. You hoped he'd be able to get some sleep that night regardless of the circumstances.
The three of you left the classroom as quietly as you had entered it and went in the direction of the dungeons. Fred, as usual, did his job at looking at the map and keeping track of the names, moving on the yellow-ish piece to old parchment.
Fortunately, you reached the Slytherin common room without any disturbances along the way, and the boy went inside, eager to crawl into bed and not think about the ugly lady who had punished him so unfairly just a few hours ago.
The door closed without a sound, leaving you and Fred on your own.
His soft voice broke the burdening silence.
"Are you going to bed?"
If you were being honest, you hadn't even thought about sleep during your secret adventure and though your body was on the verge of giving out, your restless mind was sure to wander all night. And the idea of being alone with your thoughts scared you.
"Actually… I don't think so," you began, fiddling with your fingers in hopes to not let Fred see how much they were trembling. "I doubt I'd be able to get any sleep now."
"Me too, I admit," Fred scratched the back of his neck, uncertain as to how to make the situation less awkward than it was. Trying to get you to talk was hard enough as it was, but your sudden avoidance wasn't helping either. All Fred wished for was to witness the hopeful spark in your eyes, the spark that he had noticed diminish on the first day of school when the unsettling news was announced.
Fred was determined to bring the light back and see your joyous smile again.
Without skipping a beat he said.
"Come with me."
Your eyes shot up in surprise, meeting Fred's for the first time that night. You expected to see the ever-present playful mischief in them, but instead they glistened with something you could not quite recognize. The corners of his mouth had formed a smile, one that didn't intend to mock or provoke in any way, but still contained his usual boyish charm. It was humble and sincere, and along with the anticipating look in his eyes it read.
Trust me.
Your mouth went dry, any and all reasoning to stay vanishing in thin air as you tried to make sense out of your inner conflict. Fred surely wouldn't care if you said no, would he? It's not like he'd be offended that someone like you refused to go with him; why would he even be interested in you in the first place?
But the idea of spending some time alone with him did sound very tempting - you desperately needed some positivity in that moment, feeling exceptionally drained of all your energy after having to witness the emotional and psychological impact of Umbridge's dictatorship. And if there was someone who could lift your spirit even in such dark times, that would be Fred.
Screw the idea of a potential relationship, you needed a friend right now.
"Where to, Weasley?"
Fred grinned at the nickname and shoved hands into his pockets.
"The Astronomy Tower. Are you coming?"
You smiled at him.
"Sure."
It was indeed a brilliant idea to spend the night at the place where anyone rarely ever set a foot. Regardless of it being crowded during classes all day, the Tower wasn't a common choice for students to meet, them much preferring locations like the common rooms, the Great Hall, the school grounds or even the Black Lake. But the Tower did possess a magnetic, obscure charm which many people failed to comprehend and appreciate; charm only meant to lure the wandering souls seeking peace under the stars.
Fred approached the iron railing, breathing in the cold, early spring air, and sat cross-legged on the ground. As he saw you standing a few feet away from him, he patted the empty spot next to him.
"Come on now, don't leave me sitting on my own like that," he joked and his face lit up when he noticed the ghost of a smile on your lips for a brief moment. You joined Fred on the ground, settling on a polite distance from him, and though he was slightly disappointed by the gesture, he was grateful to be in your presence nonetheless.
Silence fell over both of you like soft velvet while you stared off into the horizon; the view reached the Forbidden Forest, the outlines of which had melted into the pitch black sky like ink, the lines between the two practically nonexistent in the dead hours of the night as they blurred into one endless void.
"I don't remember the last time I saw stars on the sky," Fred addressed your ever-listening companions above in a low, hushed voice that caused warmth to blossom within you regardless of the cold surrounding you.
"Me neither," you agreed, nostalgia creeping into you, but you decided you'd welcome it this time. "Such a shame we can't see the moon though."
Your friend nodded, lips pursed into a thin line, "That's because it's currently new moon. We'll need to wait for awhile until it's visible again."
You turned to Fred and the air was knocked out of your lungs. All you could do was silently admire the way the starlight was softening his sharp features and giving his usually flaming red hair a calming shade of copper. His eyes seemed to glow in the dark, and you found yourself coming to the conclusion you had realised long ago.
He was such a beautiful man.
Those glowing eyes landed on yours and you felt your face heat up.
"How are you?" he asked abruptly and you choked out in bafflement.
"Y-You mean, right now? Or in general?..."
"How are you coping?" he rephrased. "You know, with everything going on. I noticed Umbridge bothering you recently."
A shuddering breath.
"I like to think that I'm doing better than others," you nodded hesitantly, finding it hard to sort out your emotions. "I'm more worried about the most vulnerable among us, the youngest students. They're just children. They're the ones that are most terrified. I really hope Dumbledore will be able to do something about it… no matter where he might be right now."
Fred was watching you intently; he did not miss your expression, darkened with concern, nor did he miss your slumped figure, slightly hunched over for a reason he believed was other than exhaustion. Your friend moved closer and nudged your foot with his.
"I don't want you to talk to me about the rest. I want to hear about you. I can clearly see you're being tormented by her."
"As if you're not."
"That's not the point," he insisted and placed a hand on your knee, causing you to face him. His smile was gone. "I need to know how this madness is affecting you."
"I couldn't care less about what that toad puts me through," you shook your head dismissively and shrugged. Why was he getting so worked up about it? "It doesn't matter."
"Of course it does! It matters to me!" Fred hissed in frustration. "Do you think it doesn't hurt me every time I see Umbridge picking at you or calling you for detention? Because it bloody does and you have no idea how horrible it feels to not be able to help you."
He gave your knee a squeeze.
"For once, just for one time, please. Please, stop trying to be the hero of everybody. Believe me, we see- I see how hard you're trying to keep your chin up despite all the shit you're facing, and that's admirable, but right now it's not necessary. Let go. It's just me."
A way too familiar lump formed in your throat and your chest constricted painfully before it harshly dilated, letting out choked breaths. Fred was quick to envelope you in his long arms before your tears even rolled down your cheeks, and when they did, they met his shoulder. Your hands flew around his neck, body falling into his and soaking up his warmth. Fred pressed his soft lips to your temple, calming the racing pulse as you cried freely and unapologetically. Darling, you feel too much.
It's just me.
Your friend didn't let you out of his hold even when your heart-wrenching whimpers were reduced to weak sobs. He continued cradling your exhausted body which was on the verge of completely giving out. But Fred didn't mind, finding astonishing strength in your vulnerability.
After what seemed like hours, you forced yourself to timidly whisper, lip quivering, "I'm scared... And confused."
"Me too, sweetheart," Fred hummed into your ear. "Me too."
You wiped away the trails of dried tears lingering on your face.
"There's just too much going on. Too much that I'm not ready for."
Realization flashed in Fred's brown eyes and they looked down at you with so much longing, sincerity, but also sympathy and understanding.
You weren't angry at him. You were afraid.
And that was alright.
There was enough time, not need for a rush.
Fred had been waiting for years to find out whether his burning feelings for you were reciprocated, constantly suppressing them in fear of scaring you away and losing you. And now that he knew your heart belonged to him like his did to you, all the stars above couldn't contain his untamed happiness, pure and hopeful.
Surely he could wait a little more for you to grow comfortable with your own emotions.
Fred tightened his hold around you and pecked your cheek tenderly, the subtle touch sending a shock throughout your body and subsiding your need for sleep.
"That's alright," he whispered. "Rest now."
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plant-flwrs · 3 years
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hi! i absolutely love your writing!! can i request a pureblood slytherin (kinda mysterious?) reader x george? muggle-borns call her the child of the cheshire cat bc her mischievous smile says it all. so when the twins escape the professor, she answers in riddles to not blow their cover. you can add on to that, thank you!! 🧡🧡
mischief // george weasley
masterlist!
a/n: i love your request so much!! i’m sleep deprived rn so i apologize if none of this is coherent or good, but my tiny brain did it’s best. hope u like it!!
summary: George falls for the mischievous pureblood Slytherin who couldn’t care less about blood status.
(3.1k)
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“You’ve never seen Alice in Wonderland?”
“No,” Ron groaned, annoyed with Hermione’s better-than tone.
“When would he have seen Alice in Wonderland, Hermione?” Harry asked, also annoyed with the two’s constant bickering.
“It is a book too, you know, he could have picked it up and read it any time he liked,” Hermione defended, sticking her little nose into the air with purpose.
“Will you just tell me what it means?” Ron pressed.
“It’s a reference. The Cheshire Cat is a mischievously annoying animal. It would mislead and annoy Alice,” Hermione explained, trying to simplify the characterization for Ron.
“So why do they call her that?”
“Because she gives us the creeps, she’s evil looking,” Harry answered, shuddering his shoulders slightly. 
“She’s actually quite interesting,” Hermione said, “if you gave her a chance.”
Harry rolled his eyes, having little sympathy for any pureblood Slytherin. Ron’s face showed him to be in deep thought, and Hermione returned to her Divination work.
You were perched in a shadowed corner of the library, twisting the ends of your hair in your fingers. Pansy sat across from you, reading her Potions textbook with great concentration. You hummed to yourself, a dull smile on your lips.
“Y/n,” Pansy spoke slowly, tearing her eyes away from the textbook and showing it to you, “do you know what this means?”
You looked intently into the notebook, your head nodding slowly as you read the page.
“Yeah, it’s applying the absorbing properties in lizard scales to the enlarging properties of ogre’s root. All the other stuff is there to make sure you don’t die, probably,” you said, handing Pansy the textbook back.
She made an “oh” noise, finally understanding the potion.
“I don’t think this school could be any more boring if it tried,” you groaned.
Pansy gave you an entertained smile and returned to her book.
Your gaze had drifted to look out of the window when you heard a loud crash.
Your head snapped to where it came from and your legs were moving before you had realized where they were going.
You came to stand right in front of three crashed bookshelves, little Cornish Pixies rolling around in all the books that lay on the floor.
You watched two red-headed boys doubled over trying to catch the Pixies in their outstretched hands.
“What happened here, boys?” you drawled, leaning against a book shelf that still stood upright.
“Shit!” one of them shouted, clutching his chest with this hand, “Scared us.”
“You gonna stand there, or help us?” the other said, not lifting his eyes from the Pixie he just managed to shove in his pocket.
“I think I’ll watch for now,” you quipped, a smirk reaching your mouth.
You watched them attempt to gather all the Pixies, until all three of your heads shot up at the heavy footsteps of McGonagall. 
“What on earth?” she started, and you watched the twins duck behind some standing bookshelves a few feet away.
“Did you see who did this?” she asked you, her suspicious eye trained on you.
“Did what?”
“This!” she shouted, her hands flailing towards the fallen shelves and books littering the ground
“What about this?” you asked, feigning innocence and confusion.
“Why are there shelves knocked down and books everywhere?” 
“Are they not supposed to be like this?” you nearly broke your act, a smile threatening your lips, but managed to keep a straight face. McGonagall looked infuriated.
“Did you see where they went?”
“Where who went?”
“The people who did this! Unless it was you?”
“I didn’t do it.”
“Then who did?”
“Who did what?”
“This!” she repeated, her face turning red.
“Oh! I think they went that way,” you pointed over your shoulder, the opposite way the twins went.
“She’s brilliant,” George whispered to his brother from behind the shelves.
“You can say that again, Georgie,” Fred answered, watching you in awe as you waved off McGonagall.
They crept form behind their hiding places, stepping cautiously around the fallen books. 
“How did you do that?” George asked, looking at you in awe.
“Do what?”
Fred smiled at you, quite entertained. George just stared, his mouth hanging open in amazement. 
You sauntered off, sitting back down with Pansy.
“Jaw up, George, you’re drooling,” Fred taunted his brother, bumping into George’s shoulder.
The two left the library, sneaking past Madam Pince. George watched you smooth down your green tie with your delicate touch, your eyes locking with his. He admired the mischievous grin on your lips, and he gulped when you winked at him. He just met The Child of The Cheshire Cat. And he was in love with her.
The two boys peered around the corner, Fred crouched below George. They watched you carefully taking a bobby pin to Snape’s door, your fingers jutting back and forth against the pressure you applied.
George watched you pull your lips between your teeth. He watched the curve of your body as you stood on the tips of your toes, bent at the knees and leaning close to the door. Your skirt itched dangerously up, exposing more and more of your thighs.
Fred’s eyes were trained on your mischievous actions, but all George could focus on was you. He tried to stop thinking about you, but ever since that day in the library he couldn’t get you out of his head. It became even harder when Fred insisted you join them in their pranks from now on.
You stood suddenly, your skirt falling back into place, much to George’s dismay. You turned towards the boys, smirking at them. Fred sprang from his place behind the wall. George stumbled to follow after his brother.
You bent the bobby pin back into place and George watched you tuck it seamlessly into your hair. 
“All in a day’s work, boys,” you said, breaking the silence that had formed around the three of you while they stared at you in awe.
“You’re brilliant,” Fred mumbled, gripping your shoulders and kissing your cheek briskly.
You laughed, rolling your eyes. George debated if he should copy his brother’s actions, take advantage of the situation to make an excuse to be that close to you. Before he could, he realized he had been staring at you for far too long. He coughed awkwardly and casted his gaze to the ground. You quirked an eyebrow at him in suspicion, and followed Fred into the potions class.
“What are we looking for, exactly?” you whispered into the dark room.
“We need more Ashwinder eggs for our products,” you heard Fred whisper back to you a few feet away, “running low on our supplies.”
“So you thought Snape wouldn’t mind letting you borrow some of his?” you teased, and heard Fred snort from where he was.
“Of course not,” George said from behind you, “as you may know, he’s a very generous man.”
“Always been supportive of us,” Fred joined, the smirk very loud in his voice.
George was close to you in the dark, you could tell. He must have been inches away from you, waiting for Fred to gather what he needed. You could hear his breathing, not that it was labored, and felt his presence.
“Fred, will you hurry it up?” George snapped at Fred.  You turned to where his voice came from, the deepness in his whisper surprising you.
“Scared?” you teased.
You heard George’s low chuckle, and suddenly two hands snaked their way onto your sides. George’s long fingers gripped your sides, making your entire body jolt. You jumped at the sudden touch, and heard George chuckle even more.
“Scared?” he murmured, his hands still on your sides but his fingers considerably looser.
You met his hands with yours, putting them on top of his for some reassurance that you weren’t imagining it. Your touch was featherlight over his rough hands, and you realized how small your hands were next to his. You felt the veins on the top of his hands and traced over them before you knew what you were doing. George’s chuckle stopped at the touch, and the only noise in the room was the occasional clink of two glass bottles bumping into each other as Fred looked for the eggs.
The two of you stood in silence, George’s body inching closer to yours from behind you. Soon, your back was against his chest, and he trapped you in his arms. Your arms leaned against his, hands still atop his hands. You felt safe in George’s arms. You didn’t care if Snape came in at that minute, you just wanted George to hold you.
“Got ‘em!” Fred called out, a few clinking noises heard.
“Let’s go,” he said, his voice closer to you now.
George started to turn, turning you with him. He gave you one last squeeze, moving his hands a little lower on your hips before releasing you completely. You let your hands fall from his, and moved from your spot against his chest.
The moment of intimacy in the dark had caused a blush to spread across your cheeks, and George saw it the second you three reached the dimly lit hallway. You avoided his eyes, looking at Fred and the three glass bottles he was slipping in his pockets.
“What are you going to use those for?” you whispered, following them down the hallway.
“Our luck and love potions,” Fred answered, his hand ghosting over the eggs in his pocket.
You nodded approvingly, taking a glance over your shoulder to make sure you were still in the clear. The three of you stopped at the bottom of the stairs, well you stopped at the bottom of the stairs.
“Aren’t you coming?” Fred asked, looking down at you from a few steps above you.
They both towered over you, but the look in George’s eyes made butterflies flutter in your stomach.
“My common room is down here,” you lifted your hand to point your thumb over your shoulder.
“Oh right,” Fred said, smiling, “sometimes you’re so much fun we forget you’re a Slytherin.”
“Shut up,” you said, laughing. 
The boys watched you walk away. Fred smiled at the memory of the successful night they had, and George smiled at the way your skirt moved across your hips and swayed side to side.
“And where were you?” Draco Malfoy’s sneer was on you immediately after you crept into the common room. He was lounging on the couch, face illuminated by the dwindling fire on front of him.
“Where was who?” you smirked, starting your usual act.
Draco smirked back at you, aware of your reputation.
“Off with the Weasleys? You’ve been spending a lot of time with them recently. If anyone had some sense they might begin to question you aligning yourself with blood traitors,” Draco drawled.
You furrowed your brows, feeling incapable of deflecting that like you usually would. You were never one to focus on your blood status, but you figured you didn’t have to since you were a pureblood. Draco was obsessed with his blood status, you knew that, everyone knew that. Why was he so concerned with yours all of a sudden?
“Why do you care, Draco?”
Draco’s cold laugh echoed off the walls of the dungeon.
“I try to look out for my housemates,” he said, “especially the incredibly attractive ones.”
Your face twisted with disgust before you could help it. You walked past him and up the stairs, hearing his laugh continue from behind you.
Up in your room, you reflected on your night. You couldn’t help but lift your hands to where George’s had been earlier. You closed your eyes, imagining him still there with you, his chest a hard presence behind you. You breathed in deep, feeling the familiar tightness in your chest. A smile was on your lips before you knew it, and you realized you wanted George to hold you more often.
The next day at breakfast, you had filled your plate with food and talked with Pansy.
“So,” she started, glancing at you over her Charms textbook, “where were you off to last night?”
You smiled at her, looking down at your plate. When you looked back up at her, you noticed Draco watching you a few seats down. You gave him a glare, and he smirked at you.
“I was with Fred and George,” you turned your attention back to Pansy.
“The Weasleys? Why were you with the Weasleys?” Pansy tried to hide the repulsion in her voice, and barely managed to.
“They’re my friends,” you defended, furrowing your brow at her.
“Since when?”
You didn’t answer her, feeling that whatever said wouldn’t matter much to her.
Pansy gave you a suspicious look and returned to her textbook and breakfast.
You looked down at your plate, not daring a glance at Pansy or an accidental look at Draco. You felt isolated, the green tie around your neck becoming too suffocating all of a sudden.
You stood from the table, leaving breakfast early. You walked to the empty hallway and felt a little better in the quiet.
“Y/n?” you heard a voice call for you.
When you turned in the direction of the Great Hall, you saw George. He was walking cautiously towards you, concern etched on his face.
“Hey,” you said, trying to sound normal.
“Are you alright?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
George had closed the distance between you, coming to stand right in front of you. You turned from him, leaning against the wall. He did too, and you felt his arm against yours.
“Fred and I were going to talk to you after breakfast,” he said, “but since you’re already here.”
“More late night sneaking around?”
“You could say that,” he smiled down at you.
You turned your head to look at him, and he was already looking at you. You felt your heart stop beating, the air stuck in your throat. Your eyes danced all over his face, focusing on the strength of his cheekbones, the sharpness of his nose, the smile lines marked on his cheeks, the look in his eyes. 
He didn’t know what was happening. You turned towards him, leaning closer. You closed the distance and your hands were in his hair. He barely had time to close his eyes before you pulled away. You leaned back against the wall for a second, shook your head, and started to walk away.
You felt like an idiot. You had no idea why you just kissed George, probably ruining the only genuine friendship you had made at Hogwarts. You walked away from him, hoping that the sooner you left, the easier he would forget it happened.
You were only a few feet away before his hand was wrapped around your wrist.
“George, I’m sorr-”
He cut you off with his lips, his hands cupping your face.
He pulled you back to the wall, pushing you against it. The force nearly made your legs tremble from under you, but you forced them to stay still. 
His hands ran down your body, moving from your face and down to their spot on your hips. He squeezed them like he did last night. You couldn’t help the reaction it caused, lurching your hips into his at the touch. He groaned into your mouth, pushing his face harder against yours. His nose pressed against your cheek, your chins bumping as you passionately moved against each other. 
“Well, this is awfully disappointing.” You barely registered the voice, and George certainly didn’t.
You opened your eyes, still kissing George and glanced to the sound. Draco stood there, an evil smirk on his mouth. You slowly pulled away from George, and he trailed after you, trying to continue the kiss. It wasn’t until you turned your head to look at Draco that George even realized he was there.
“Get out of here Malfoy,” George said, his voice gruff and annoyed.
He moved back towards you, expecting Draco to scurry off. Draco stayed put, and you pulled back from George.
“What do you want, Draco?” you said, still pushed against the wall with George leaning on you.
You didn’t even bother to fix your messy hair, adjust your skirt, or tuck your shirt back in. All of which were messed up by George’s roaming hands.
“Just wanted to make sure my eyes didn’t deceive me,” he snarled, “Saw a Weasel chasing after you, but I didn’t think it would have been this bad.”
“What are you on about?” George said, and you could feel his body tensing with anger.
“Well I have to report this to the Sacred 28,” he explained, casting a fake innocent look over his evil features, “they’ll have to know that the Y/l/n family are now blood traitors.”
“Malfoy, you’re the only one who still cares about that,” you sneered.
You would have felt a bit intimated by Malfoy if it weren’t for George. You knew Malfoy was one of the smartest students in his year and had no doubt he knew some dark spells that you couldn’t have dreamed of. But George made you feel safe. When George was there you didn’t even think about the danger Malfoy threatened.
“Oh, I don’t know,” he started to saunter over to the two of you, “your father still seems to care.”
George moved you from the wall, putting himself between you and Draco. 
Draco was right about your father. He cared a great deal about his status and the power it held. He had grown to accept your disobedience, but you had never strayed this far from his ideals.
“You’re pathetic, Malfoy,” George spat from in front of you. You squeezed his arm warningly, and he glanced down at you. The second he saw your scared expression, his gaze softened.
“Shove off,” you managed, your voice nearly sounding afraid.
“Alright,” Draco said in a sing-song voice, holding his hands up in mock defeat, “fine, be that way.”
He walked back into the hall, and George turned to you with concern on his face.
“Why did you do that?” 
“I don’t care about what my father thinks,” you admitted, furrowing your brow.
“Are you sure?” George asked you.
“Yeah,” you mumbled, looking up at George’s brown eyes, “You mean more to me than any useless blood status.”
George softened. He literally felt himself melt at your words. He took a few large steps, a goofy smile plastered in his face, and backed you against the wall again.
“That was adorable,” he said, sounding giddy.
You laughed, moving closer to his face. Your smiles connected, quickly changing to a heated kiss once again.
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kerie-prince · 3 years
Text
black hair dye
George Weasley x Reader (fluff)
requested: (anon) hello! i was wondering if i could request? could u write george x reader, established relationship, him n fred are getting rlly into pranks (more than they usually would be i suppose) and one prank goes just a tad too far and reader ends up getting upset and hurt and fluff ensues :) i hope that’s alright, thank u sm! :)
warnings: use of the word "mudblood"
summary: you knew what you signed up for when you started dating one of the most devious (yet sweetest) boys in school. what you didn't sign up for was to get caught up in one of their devious plans
a/n: my first request since i started writing again 🥺💙 hope you guys like it!
(gif cred)
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George Weasley loved two things: Y/N and pranking. In that order? Well, we’ll get to that later.
The mischievous smirk on his face, the dedication in planning, the certain glint in his eyes, and the contagious laughter from the aftermath had been some of the reasons you fell for the devilish Gryffindor boy.
On a couple occasions, you’ve assisted in some pranks with the twins. Your favorite one being the time that you had given Draco Malfoy a heart-shaped box of chocolates on Valentine’s day, chocolates that were actually puking pasties the twins made. You skipped across the hallways and stood in front of the Slytherin blond, twirling your hair in your fingers as you gave him the box and walked away. Madam Pomfrey had spent three hours helping him clear everything out of his system. That same day, George presented you with his own box of chocolates. It took a while to convince you that they were real chocolates, but once you decided on risking it, he asked you out. It was oddly romantic. Not just because it was Valentine's day, but that he asked you after doing probably the least romantic thing together. Not many girls dream of their crush asking them out after they just sent another boy emptying his guts out for hours.
That brought you to the present, in the Common Room studying for exams with Angelina and Hermione. Slughorn may have been significantly nicer and easier to follow compared to Snape, but that didn’t make his work any easier. As you had your nose in your book, hushed whispers and the familiar laugh that had indication of scheming flowed through your ears. The ginger boy walked towards you and placed a quick kiss on your forehead, “I'll see you later, love.”
Fred and George made a dash to their shared dorm with Lee. “They're at it again,” Angelina commented with her eyes still on the parchment in front of her.
“That's to say that they ever stopped,” Hermione jokes. There was no telling what the boys were planning this time. It seemed that with every prank, they had to outdo themselves in the next one. Like a competition only between the two of them.
As they were in their final year at Hogwarts, you always wondered if George would ever retire from pranking and go on to do other things after graduation. But you also couldn't imagine him doing anything else. There were talks of opening a shop after graduation thanks to Harry giving them his winnings from the Triwizard Tournament, but to your knowledge nothing has been set in stone. George was always happy when coming up with pranks, and when George is happy, so are you.
You read the time on your wrist watch and started packing your things. “Alright girls, I'm beat. We’ll meet tomorrow in the library, yeah?” the two girls nodded in your direction. Walking towards the girls dormitories, you could hear the twins and Lee laughing loudly from their room. Oh, boys.
In the Great Hall, you ate your breakfast as you read over your notes for Advanced Potions when George took his usual seat next to you. “Good morning my sweet.” He kissed your forehead as he did every morning. You tore your eyes away for a moment from the book to give him a smile and peck his lips. “Morning, love.”
“Studying as always, Y/N?” Fred asked from across. “‘Course I am. Someone has to be able to tell you what ingredients to use to make a stink bomb,” you teased. Your surrounding housemates laughed at your response. Fred and George went on whispering, presumably about their new plan. You and Angelina looked at each other with a nod of disapproval and laughed to yourselves. Moments later, Lee ran in the Great Hall carrying two bottles, one empty and one filled with a black substance.
“What are you planning now?” you interrogated. Lee and Fred gave George a nod for him to go on. “This, my love, is black hair dye. Muggles use it to color their hair.”
“Yeah, I know what hair dye is. Why do you have it- are you going to mix it with Ron’s shampoo?” your eyes nearly matched the mischievous look in the boys’ eyes around you.
“I like the way you think but no,” George replied.
“This dye is going into none other than Malfoy’s shampoo.” Fred completed. The twins went on talking back and forth completing each other’s sentences.
“Lee’s the only one that has access to the prefect’s bathroom,” George started.
“Considering that McGonagall doesn’t trust us to go in there.” Angelina scoffed, “I can’t imagine why.” The twins ignored her sarcastic remark and continued. “We’re going to steal his shampoo and replace it with the one we made with the black hair dye. He’ll go washing on and,”
“Blondie no more.” Lee completed. You could imagine it now, Malfoy walking around with greasy black hair. This would probably be Fred and George’s most devious plan. They have had their fun with setting random fireworks, hexing quills to move on their own, and candies that had some not so pleasant after effects. The more you thought about it, though, the more worried you became. The three of you had detention for weeks from the last stunt with Malfoy, and his father still holds the grudge against Arthur. Something like this would not only get them in detention until the end of the school year, Lucius could use his position at the Ministry to get Arthur fired.
It seemed as if your best friend had the same thought seeing as she had the same look on her face. “Love, don’t you think that’s a bit too much?” Angelina faced Fred.
“Nonsense. We got this handled.” The boys went on with their fun. You stood up from the table and gathered your things. Angelina joined you, not wanting to risk being associated with the boys and landing herself in detention along with them if they were to be caught. You walked arm-in-arm to the library where you’d surely find Hermione with a huge stack of books. “Boys,” your best friend simply said.
“Yeah, but what would we do without them?”
A week has passed since and it was now the night before your Potions exam. You hadn’t seen much of your boyfriend, knowing that he was being kept busy with his brother. As much as you love spending time with him, it was nice to get some work done. You had determination to get straight O’s for your last year and you were confident this exam would help you get it. The library was closing its doors soon, so you quickly grabbed all your things to make it back to the Gryffindor common room in time.
Your ink pot spilled over the table in the midst of the rush. Somewhere in your bag was a little package of tissues and you used the whole thing to try and clean up as much as you could. The ink was staining your hands but you could care less about it. Deciding that the ink was mostly wiped off, you ran out the doors and made a straight dash to your house.
Once you made it to your shared dorm room, you tossed your bag to the side and threw yourself on your bed and fell asleep in seconds.
The morning came and you groaned at the sunlight blinding your eyes. Your uniform was wrinkled up, hair pointed at every direction, and your breath was enough to get you up and out of bed. The girls around you laughed at the sight of your unruly state.
“Y/N, what is that on your hands?” Angelina chuckled.
“Just some ink. I spilled my pot in the library and tried to clean it,” you answered. In the shared bathroom, you casted a spell for your toothbrush to move around your mouth as you tried to wash off the ink. Unfortunately, it wasn’t letting up. The black ink was clinging to your skin and only seemed to be spreading around even more. It was starting to stain the porcelain sink when you decided that you’ll just deal with it for the day.
You bathed yourself, changed into fresh robes and headed to the Great Hall for breakfast. Potions would be the first class of the day and you were confident in yourself to pass the exam. Before you could step into the Hall, someone grabbed you from their collar and dragged you to the opposite. “You’re coming with me, mudblood.” You couldn’t see who it was as their hood was covering their head, but the hand on you had the familiar silver ring on one of the fingers.
You questioned him as he dragged you to the dungeons. He forced you into Snape’s office, catching the professor’s attention with the slam of the door. You stood confused as to why you were brought to Snape’s office and it seemed he was confused as well. When you turned around to the boy behind you, you were met with a black-haired, red-faced Malfoy. His nostrils were flared and he had stains around his forehead and the back of his neck. You couldn’t help yourself when you started cackling at the sight.
“SHE DID THIS TO ME,” Malfoy accused with a pointed finger at you. Your laughs were dying down, and as you caught your breath, you faced him boldly. “Please, I have better things to do than petty things such as this.” He walked up to you and forcibly grabbed your hands and raised them to show Snape. “Look at this! This is clear proof she did this. Do something about this!” He demanded from the brooding professor. You had panic in your eyes as you realized the situation you were in. The ink on your skin matched with the dye in Malfoy’s hair.
“Professor, I swear I didn’t do this. You have to believe me,” you pleaded. Snape seemed unamused by the whole thing. “Then, Miss Y/L/N, how do you explain the stains on your hands?”
“I spilled my ink pot last night and tried to clean it up but it stained my hands,” you waved your hands in front of you. The situation was coincidental but even you thought it sounded suspicious.
“Rubbish, you expect me to believe that you happened to ‘clean up spilled ink’ the same night this happens to me?” Malfoy was raging as he pointed to his head. “My father will hear about this,” the famous words fell from his lips. In the middle of it all, you looked at the clock above Snape’s head and saw that you were now ten minutes late to Slughorn’s class. You were missing the exam.
“Please, professor. I didn’t do this. I’ve been in the library every night studying,” you continued begging.
“Were you with anyone last night to prove your innocence?” Snape put emphasis in his last word. You looked down and held your hands in front of you. “No, sir.”
“Then what am I to make when one of my students comes in looking like,” he paused to look at Malfoy, “that and your hands are in the state it is now?”
“But I didn’t do it,” you whispered with watered eyes.
“Alright. If you didn’t do it, then who did?” You couldn’t throw your boyfriend under the bus at that moment. Him and his brother were already on thin ice with the pretentious Slytherin. This would just make it worse. “I-I can’t tell you,” you stuttered.
“You can’t or you won’t?” Snape persisted. You stood silently, having counted that you were now thirty minutes late to class and there was no way you would be able to retake it. Slughorn was unusually strict about one thing; tardiness. “Very well then. If you won’t tell me, I’ll have no choice but to give you detention for three months,” Snape declared.
Your eyes nearly fell out in shock, “THREE MONTHS?” Malfoy had the biggest smirk on his face and his arms were crossed in victory. “And you’ll be responsible for putting his hair back to its natural state. Now get out.” He ushered you two out harshly and slammed his door in your face when you tried to plead.
The Slytherin boy just chuckled as he raised his hood and pranced away. The tears were falling from your eyes. You leaned against the wall with your head leaned back. Plans of straight O’s were out the window, but that’s not what really upset you. What worried you was having to deal with the wrath of Lucius Malfoy once he caught wind of this. And even with all this, you couldn’t bring yourself to be mad at George. It’s not like he spilled the ink on your hands.
You walked straight to your house with your head sulked down. When you started climbing the changing stairs, you heard your boyfriends’ laugh from above. “Y/N! Have you seen Malfoy yet? Godric, he looks terrible!” Fred gave him a high-five, “We did it again, Georgie.”
George’s laughter faded when he saw your tired face, tears dried on your cheeks. He cupped your cheek with his large hand and lifted your face up to look at him, “Love, what’s wrong? Did the exam not go well?”
“Got detention. I missed the exam,” you explained. Your voice sounded tired and all you wanted was to lay in your room for the rest of the day. You didn’t care about your other classes. “Detention? For what?” Fred asked from behind George. You lifted one of your hands and babbled ‘Malfoy’ before slipping past and walked inside the common room. The boys looked at each other in confusion before putting two and two together and made a dash for you inside.
“That’s ridiculous, you weren’t even a part of it this time,” George exclaimed. Fred non verbally agreed. They were appalled. “Did you tell them you didn't do it?”
“I did but when Snape asked who did, I couldn’t tell him,” you lowered your voice so they couldn't hear the last. But George did. Because of him, you missed out on the exam you have been desperately studying for and you got in trouble for something he did.
George left your room in a huff and started marching his way to Snape’s office. He couldn't hear Fred calling out for him, and you lost your breath from chasing after him. Damn those long legs.
Around dinner time, George walked into the Great Hall with one hand holding on to his shoulder as he moved the opposite one in circles. “What’s up with you?” Ron asked with raised eyebrows.
“Snape’s got me organizing his potions in both his office and supply closet. Man can’t organize to save his life,” George may have been uncomfortable, but he still had his signature smile. You reached your hands to massage his shoulder. “Why’d you do that?”
“Whaddya mean, love?” He looked clueless.
“Why did you get yourself in trouble? Aren't you worried about what will happen?” you whispered for only him to hear you. “I only told the truth. No need for you to take the fall. Anyways, I talked to Slughorn and he agreed to let you take the exam this Saturday at seven in the morning.” If at all possible, you fell more in love with George Weasley in that moment. You kissed him on the cheek, held one of his hands in yours and continued the night talking with friends.
“Hey Georgie, think we can top this one?” Fred looked over his shoulder staring at the wonderful victim of the previous prank. The Slytherin table were snickering at their Prince. Draco sat with his head down, threats not doing him any justice anymore.
“You're on, Freddie.” The twin boys shook their hands and started talking about ideas for what they’d do next.
Oh, Merlin.
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thefreakydeaky · 3 years
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Call Out My name
Part Five Title: Wicked Games
Characters: Negan, Reader, Sherrie, Simon, The Wives.
Summary: You belonged to him.Try as you might to pretend indifference, Negan’s very presence has awakened feelings in you that you believed had died with the old world.Is the ruthless King of the Sanctuary still human enough to fall in love?
Warnings: Language, Canon Typical Negan BS, Dr. Angst M.D. and the s m u t
Word Count: ??? Sorry
“Hey there, Handsome.I came to see how you’re doing.” Sherri sat beside him.Her sly look stained the validity of her concerned tone.
“Fair to Middlin’.” He replied easily.
 Sherri took his hand in hers and began speaking to him in an irritatingly sweet voice.
 The familiarity between them rankled.So you picked your book back up from the coffee table and attempted to read.
Unintentionally she returned to that part of the room; he saw her, and, instantly rising, said, with studied politeness--
You could feel him staring at you and kept your gaze on the text.
"I beg your pardon, madam, this is your seat;" and though she immediately drew back with a decided negative, he was not to be induced -
“I had a dream about you.” Sherri purred.
Your eyes strayed from the page, catching on his thumb stroking soothingly over the back of her hand.You felt a twinge of envy at the sight.Negan lifted her hand to his lips and laid a gentle kiss there.You forced yourself to focus on the next line.
-to sit down again.Anne did not wish for more of such looks and speeches.
“Did you now?” He smiled at her, a bright flash of straight teeth that lit up the features of his handsome face.
Stupid dreamy handsome face. 
Sherri giggled an attractive titter.You were beginning to hate her.You held the book closer to your face.
His cold politeness, his ceremonious grace, were worse than anything.
“What kinda dream?” Negan asked.
You could hear your heart pounding in your ears. 
“I dreamed we were walking through an apple orchard.The trees were full and we-“
“Did he bone you against the tree or in it?” You shot off from behind your book.
“Not everything is about sex.” Sherri huffed.
“Sure.” You uttered still pretending to read.Your fingers curled around the cover in lew of curling into fists.
Try me bitch just try me 
You wanted to scream. 
“Somethin’ wrong,Y/n?” His voice was like icing over warm cake.He had no right to sound so good.How dare he have the ability to turn your brain to mush.
You grit your teeth.
“You’ll have to forgive her.” Negan apologized. “Her kitty is starving for attention.”
You threw the book down and stood.
“My ‘kitty’ and I are doing just fine without your help thank you very much and I’d prefer it if you didn’t refer to that particular part of my body as-“
“You don’t like kitty?Would you prefer honeypot?”
You glared.
“No? How about fuck hole?”
“You’re the only fuck hole in this room! You son of a -“
“I’m glad you’re feeling a little better.” Sherri wore an tight anxious smile.
She retreated much faster than she had appeared.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Negan demanded.
“What’s wrong with me?!” You shook your head.“You are the one that-“
“I was having a pleasant chat with an old friend. Is there a reason you felt the need to inject yourself into that conversation?”
“I didn’t ask for this!”
“For what?”
“To be with a man that has four other wives! I can’t handle it!” You wrapped your arms over your chest.“I can’t have feelings for you and then turn them off when it isn’t my turn.”
“You have feelings for-“
“I was better off hating you!” You blinked back tears as you tugged angrily at the scrap around your wrist. “You should have let me keep hating you!”
The knot suddenly gave. With a sound of frustration you flung the ribbon away from you. It fluttered lame and featherlike to the floor. You growled a strained noise of frustration and locked yourself in the bathroom, leaving a stunned Negan in your wake.
 
You didn’t speak to him for days after that horrible afternoon.Negan ignored you right back at first. It was as close to peaceful as you could hope for you supposed.
Nothing lasts forever. You thought gloomily amidst another battle with your husband.
You had managed not to royally piss Negan off until today.He’d caught you looking out the window at the Saviors as they rejoiced in the rain.
The last few weeks of humidity had been torture. The Saviors however, got to spend time outside.While your whole day was limited to the parlor and the bedroom.You missed having a real purpose.You used to scavenge and collect supplies with your own group.You used to be useful.You were so caught up in your brooding, you didn’t hear Negan enter the room.
Boisterous laughter from the men outside spilled in through a window.Simon caught your gaze, his chocolate colored eyes twinkled with merriment as he removed his shirt and enjoyed the cool rain.You gave him a small smile.Negan appeared beside you. He peered out the window just in time to see Simon smile back.
“There is only one man you have any right to be eye fucking like that and it’s me.” Negan chastised you.
“The man is surprisingly ripped and takes his shirt off right in public where any old body can see.I’m only human.I can’t help it.” You didn’t know why you said it.Though they were nice to look at, you hadn’t been interested in Simon’s abs.
His sharp intake of breath had you biting your lip to hide your satisfied smirk.
“You are my wife dammit!As your husband I expect you to be loyal to me, to respect me!”
“Loyal?” You scoffed.“This coming from the man that has,” You gestured vaguely, “remind me again, how many wives?”
“Oh that is such horse shit! You haven’t said a word to me in days! Are you really gonna stand there and judge me for fucking a woman who’s ready and willin’?”
Your shoulders tensed.
“Who’s the better lay, Frankie, Amber, Tanya or Sherri?”You said their names mockingly.
Your stinging pride aggravated you.
“Don’t pretend to be jealous.We both know as long as you don’t have to be the one to put out you don’t give a shit who I’m fucking.”
Hurt and frustration gave you the words that you knew would wound him enough to send him away.
“You’re right.”You kept your voice devoid of emotion. “I don’t care who you look at and I sure as hell don’t care who you’re sleeping with.”
“One more word and I will lock you up and throw away the key.”Negan warned.
Your words had hit their mark. You could not bring yourself to say anything.You turned away instead.He slammed the door shut on his way out.
 
 
The vindictive stunts escalated quickly after that.Negan orchestrated a plan to get you to walk into the parlor and catch Frankie giving him a blow job.
You flirted with whichever Savior happened to be offered a free pass right before his eyes.
Negan invited Tanya into your bed and when he didn’t try to kick you out, you sat yourself on the sofa and flipped through an old Home & Garden magazine willing yourself to keep an air of nonchalance about you through the whole event.When it came time for Tanya to go back to her own bed, you wished her a good night and sweet dreams, then turned your back on him and slept on the couch.Things finally came to a head the day he gave Simon a free pass.
Negan assumed Simon would know better than to choose you. Surely a logical man would have resentment towards the person responsible for so many dead Saviors. Simon was not a logical man. His eyes sparked with recognition and a little something more when he saw you.
“Long time no see, Babycakes.” He looked you over, licked his lips and grinned.
“Would you like something to drink?”
You couldn’t deny that Simon had certain charisma about him.It was mostly physical attraction, but partly how he carried himself.He exuded confidence and the capability not only to do whatever he wanted to, but to do it well.You imagined that this ability followed through to the bedroom and likely made him an enthusiastic and creative lover.
It’s not like Negan’s gonna touch me anytime soon.
Simon followed you to the built in bar and let you pour him some whisky.
“How’s the married life treating you?” He was only half teasing.
You laughed mirthlessly.
“Bout as well as can be expected given the circumstances.”
”Sex with the boss not as great as you imagined?” He took a sip from his glass.You watched his throat work as he swallowed.
You wondered if he would go down on you. That was something you knew you would thoroughly enjoy.
“I still haven’t ...” You trailed off.
“I have no idea how you get away with it. If you were my woman, I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off of you.” Simon bit his lower lip.
You knocked back your whisky like it was a shot.Your chest felt warm, your throat dry, unpleasantly so.
“So, I have a free pass.” He said boldly. “And frankly, I’d like to be balls deep in you.”
“Is that supposed to be a question?”
He rolled his eyes.
“Would you like me to be balls deep in you, eat your nice fat ass, slurp the cum out of your exquisite pussy?”
You grinned at that.
He was almost charming.Initially you decided if he got to asking, you would turn him down, but now you weren’t so sure. You llicked your bottom lip, feeling a little bold yourself and leaned in to give him your answer.The sight of a dark figure in your peripheral vision stopped you dead in your tracks.
“Jesus, Dollface. You’re keeping me in suspense here.Do you want ta fuck me or -“
“Well aren’t we getting friendly over here.” Negan’s eyes flashed dangerously.
“Are you...jealous?”The question slipped out of your mouth, you kept your face a mask of impassivity.
“Not at all.Being jealous would imply that I have a reason to worry about you betraying me.”He answered you, but his eyes were on Simon.
“Should I be worried, Y/N?” Negan’s voice was smooth as ever, but did not carry the hint of humor it so often had in the past.
A vision of Lucille coming down upon Simon caused the smile to die on your face.Your husband was watching you carefully, his expression dark.Coming, you decided, no matter how deliciously was not more important than a human being’s life.
You reached up, brushing your finger tips along your husband’s jaw line
“No, Love.You have nothin’ to worry about.” You stood and pressed a light kiss to his cheek.
He put his arm around you.Glaring daggers at Simon, Negan lead you to your shared bedroom.
He took an angry breath as he fished the key out of his front pocket.You raised an eyebrow, surprised he could actually get his hand in there, considering the jeans he wore were so tight you could see his religion.
“I don’t think you realize how far you pushed me just now.” Negan frowned as he shut the door behind him.
“To be fair, some of that is on me.I put up with your tantrums, on account of how cute you are and somewhere along the line you decided that it was somebody else that bashes in heads with baseball bats and I’m just the funny guy that entertains you.”
“You’re one to talk!“
“Let me make some things clear to you, I do not tolerate disrespect and I sure as shit will not allow you to make a fool of me.If I catch you near Simon again so help me Y/n, I will bash your skull in.If you so much as insinuate that you are sleeping with somebody else I will hurt you and when I get tired of that, I will bash your skull in.”
You pressed your thighs together tightly.For some God awful reason you were creaming your panties.You focused your eyes on the door behind him.
“Are we clear?” He challenged gruffly.
You nodded vigorously, fighting your urges.You took a shallow breath in and let it out shakily.
“Yes, Sir. We’re clear.” You replied.
Please leave Please leave please leave...The words looped like a mantra in your mind. “
“Crystal?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Good.” Still angry, he turned to leave, only to stop with his hand on the door knob. “Did you just call me ‘Sir’?”
Your stomach dropped.You couldn’t keep fighting with him.Not right now.You needed him to go away until you had gathered your whits about you.
Negan turned around, eyeing you curiously.Your heart started to race.Your gaze strayed to his face and finding nothing readable there, to the floor.His footsteps seemed too loud and the room too quiet.
 “Are you scared of me,Y/n?” He spoke softly, raising a feeling in you that made your hands begin to shake.
His calloused fingers tilted your face up towards his.
“You are, aren’t you?” He sounded disappointed.
“I’m not afraid of you.” You blurted unable to stop the words from spilling out.”I’m not afraid.”
He tilted his head, eyes scanning you from head to toe.
“You’re shaking.”
“You’re touching me.”
Negan’s hands splayed along your neck, soothing and threatening at once.
“I’m in love with you.”Your voice trembled with emotion.
His gold flecked eyes widened, his lips parting the tiniest bit.You kissed him with an intensity that came as a shock to you both.The kiss was hard and bruising, punishing Negan for being Negan, punishing yourself for loving him anyway.
You fisted a hand in his shirt and used it to shove him away from you.You stared at each other for one tense moment, wild eyed and panting.
He was on you in a heart beat, his lips pressing small frantic kisses to your jaw and neck.His hands were grabbing for the skirt of your dress, but you stopped him.You guided his lips back to yours and kissed him gently.Your lips molded to his, in a light caress. Your fingers brushed the stubble on his jawline. Negan leaned into your touch accepting the forgiveness you offered without hesitation.
“You have got no idea how damn much you piss me off.” He muttered under his breath.
“Yes, I do.” You let him lead you to bed.
You tugged at the hem of his t-shirt and pulled the faded thing off, tossing it carelessly onto the floor.Your eyes were drawn to the tattoos on his upper arms and firm chest. You ran your fingers over the skull figure on his pec.Your fingertips trailed over his nipple and slowly down his stomach to the button on his jeans.
“Tell me you want me.” You undid both button and zipper and tugged the denim down his thighs.
“I want you.” Negan’s desire for you was written plainly on his face.In his eyes you could see that he was thinking of all the ways he wanted to have you.Negan watched with wrapped attention as you removed your dress and then your bra.
Anger,hunger,happiness,frustration,Negan had worn all of these feelings in your presence unabashedly. Your favorite expression by far was the look of awe and adoration on his face when you slid your panties off and let them fall to the floor.
“You are so beautiful .” He said reverently and your breath caught in your throat.
“But not perfect.” You directed his hands along the sides of your abundant belly and full hips, along your stretch marks.
“You are perfect to me.”The sincerity in his voice made the corners of your lips turn up in a smile.
You kissed him soundly.
“You’re the sexiest woman I have had the privilege to make love to by far.”Negan sucked on your tongue coaxing a moan from you.
A shiver of pleasure went through you.He pressed hungry opened mouth kisses to your neck and chest.His big hands squeezed your ass.You wanted him.You weren’t going to deny it any longer. You wanted every inch of his body in every possible way.The low groan he emitted when you nibbled at his earlobe encouraged you to palm his erection through his boxershorts.
Negan backed onto the bed. You followed him onto the mattress, straddling his lap, your thick thighs flanking his hips.Negan began sucking a mark onto your chest.He took your breasts in his hands and gave them a gentle squeeze.
“Wait.” You panted.
You pushed yourself further down the coverlet and removed his boxers.His dick was a magnificent thing to behold.Thick, long and velvety smooth.You positioned your sex just above his waiting cock.
His eyes didn’t leave yours as you sank onto his erection.He leaned in to kiss you, but you turned your face away. You hummed in delight as he traced the line of your neck with the tip of his tongue. He pressed slow sensual lingering kisses to your pebbled nipples and withdrew slowly, then buried his full length in your wet heat.
 When you expected fast and rough Negan gave you slow and sensual.The stroke of his cock against your walls was divine, each more sinfully delicious than the last.The litany of praise he rasped into your ear had you mewling. You clenched around his thick length, felt your pussy getting wetter.
Hazel eyes gazed into yours. In those eyes you recognized the partner you longed for; a man that respected, accepted, and adored you.The genuine admiration you found in their depths amplified this growing suspicion you had that Negan was falling as hard for you as you had for him.
The kiss that followed confirmed that more than desire brought you to this moment.You kissed him back tenderly.His lips molded to the contours of yours, his hands were in your hair.The tip of his tongue ran over the roof of your mouth. A hiccup of pleasure escaped you. His tongue delved deep, staking claim, demanding reciprocation of the intense emotions you managed to incite in him.
You felt yourself slipping, getting increasingly desperate as your pleasure reached a new height.
Your breath caught in your throat. With one last thrust he composed a symphonic sensation of all consuming bliss through your body.Your orgasm rendered a scream from your vocal cords that made Negan laugh seconds before he came.
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Hello lovely, congratulations once again🥰🥰 Can i pls have a ship? 🥺👉👈 i'm a Hufflepuff, i like swimming, dancing and singing, although i study public policy lol (kinda political sciences); i like reading although i haven't read much lately (thanks uni). I'm very emotional and passionate, i never shut up, i'm very protective over my friends and i struggle a lot with mental health, also i'm a hugeeee procrastinator. I like cooking, i'm trying to go vegan again and i curse a lot, lol. 🥰🥰
HEY ALYSSA BBY THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR JOININGGG
I ship you with Blaise Zabini!
okay hear me out
I am a sucker for SlytherPuff couples and i feel like you two are peRFECT
once upon a time.... Ok im kidding it all started when Blaise caught you singing alone at night
he was patrolling as he was a prefect (cmon this dude hAS to be a prefect look at him) and he accidentally saw you singing in one of the empty classrooms
Now, Blaise isn't familliar with love at first sight since *cough*his mom*cough* but there was a tingly feeling on his chest as he watched you singing your heart out (you must've forgotten the 'muffliato' charm)
He recognized you as you two shared classes occasionally, he only knew your name, Alyssa.
You didn't notice him at all actually, he didn't come forward to reprimand you or anything, he just watched from afar, admiring your voice.
Starting from there, Blaise noticed you everywhere
You would be in class laughing at your friends and he would look at you, his heart went badump badump at your sight
Or reading at the fountain with your hair almost covering your face as your head was so down low to the book you had on your lap, he would have stared at you for hours if it wasn't for Crabbe and Goyle shoving him to move quick
Boi wasn't familliar of these feelings at all, so he was very confused as of why his heart decided to beat faster whenever you smile or laugh with your Hufflepuff friends
So he asked Pansy about it (because god forbid if he asked Draco, he would rather drown himself)
"So your heart beats faster whenever you see her?" Pansy asked, intrigued. It's not everyday Blaise would talk to her, let alone for something like this.
He nodded, furrowing his eyebrows, "Am I sick? Should I see Madam Pomfrey about it?" He asked, his voice concerned for himself despite his stoic expression (he's bad at expressing emotions let him live syaf).
Pansy chuckled, knowing immediately what's wrong with Blaise. "Maybe not Madam Pomfrey, perhaps go see the blood traitor Weasley Twins instead,"
He shot her a ridiculous look, "What? Why?"
Pansy rolled her eyes at him, he's so oblivious sometimes, "Because, Zabini, they're selling love potions."
Poor Blaise still didn't follow, "What does that had to do with anything?"
"Salazar Slytherin, Blaise," Pansy sighed out, annoyed now.
"You like that Hufflepuff girl. Romantically."
And Hell breaks loose for Blaise.
See, Blaise hates the idea of love, his mother proved that, so when Pansy said that, he didn't know how to react
Like, AT ALL
Pansy had to see him went through 7 stages of grief in 15 seconds
He stormed to his room so quick, slamming the door shut and that night he didn't sleep at all, he processed everything
EVERYTHING.
He had thought he's asexual; he had no interest in love or sex before
And then this Hufflepuff girl, Alyssa came into his life and he's in shambles trying to recognize himself again
He had avoided you ever since then, he didn't want to feel it again (poor boy lemme give u a hug)
Well, it worked until Draco (that slimy git) had pushed your friend, Hannah Abott to the ground for being in his way one day.
And oh boy, were you furious
"What was that bloody for, Malfoy?" You spat as you shoved him back, before glancing at Hannah who was helped by your other friends.
Blaise was surprised, normally when Draco pushed someone away, they would cower in fear for his father. But you; you didn't give a single fuck.
Draco narrowed his eyes at you, scoffing in disbelief, "You dare to push me? You filthy little mudblood!" He shouted at you.
You scoffed, "Learn to have some human decency, Malfoy. Wrinkles look bad on you."
A sudden snort interrupted Draco from hexing you.
It was Blaise, and he was trying so hard not to laugh. You looked at him in confusion; you never saw him smile before.... he has a nice smile.
"What are you laughing at, Zabini?" Draco sneered and Blaise rolled his eyes, his mood flattens down immediately by the platinum blonde, "Let's just go, Malfoy, class is starting soon." He said, glancing at you who had already looked at him.
There it is. Badump badump.
Draco huffed, "He'll hear about this for sure," and walked away, purposely shoves Blaise in the shoulder while on it. Blaise rolled his eyes at the childishness and turned to you, "You alright?"
That was the first time he ever talked to you.
You gave him a polite smile, "I had him earlier, you know. But thank you anyway," you said, suddenly got flustered as Blaise returned the smile.
He scoffed in amusement, "I know you did, but then again it wouldn't hurt to save someone from getting hexed at."
You rolled your eyes playfully, "If he hexed me, I would simply hex him back, so don't you worry."
A lingering smile on his lips, amused by your fiery personality. His mind was screaming to get away from you, but his heart had made him stayed put, stayed close to you.
"Say, are you free this weekend?" He suddenly asked, a sudden confidence was surging through him.
You shrugged, "Depends on what activity, why?" You never realized this but Blaise was quite... Handsome.
"I'm taking you to Hogsmeade, heard there's a new dessert at Three Broomsticks." He said smoothly, slowly Blaise took a liking at the fast heartbeat his heart made.
You smiled, shocked at the sudden confidence the boy in front of you had.
"Saturday, 8 am. I'll wait you at Zonko's." Was all you said as you turned around and left, leaving him speechless.
And that was the start of your beautiful relationship with Blaise Zabini.
He was a complete gentleman, smiling at you who was shocked, he arrived there sooner than you.
The Hogsmeade date was a complete success, you had shared the said dessert with him; only to find out later on he doesn't like dessert at all, but tried one anyway because it's with you
He was stoic and had difficulties to express his feelings through facial expression, but when he's with you; it became easier.
You're passionate at the things you love to do, and he loves hearing you talk about it, your eyes twinkled so much he wished he could store the twinkles for himself
That day Blaise smiled for the whole day (creeping out Draco, Crabbe, Goyle and Theo, although Pansy only smiled)
You would sing him to sleep whenever he sneaked into the Hufflepuff dorms to see you, and he loves to hear it.
"I've actually liked you even before I asked you to Hogsmeade," "Oh really? What have I done?" "I caught you singing at night one day, and my heart started to beat faster. I didn't understand what it was then, but Parkinson told me I like you." "Well, do you?" "Darling, I like you more than I like my friends." "Good to know, because I like you too."
The first time he realized he loves you was 2 weeks after that, you two had spent time a lot together, and he had never shared so much information of himself to others before.
You made him feel safe.
You made him feel loved, he barely had that since his mother is too busy finding a new husband
You taught him that love is indeed real, and love is indeed beautiful
And that's why he loves you.
To him, you are love.
JOIN MY SLEEPOVER!
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Kirby and the Dangerous Gourmet Mansion!? Chapter 8
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Mrs. ParfaitLike was in the deepest part of the cave. Both of her hands and legs are tied with a rope, and its tip is tied to a thick post. Nevertheless, Mrs. ParfaitLike seemed full of energy. “Please untie this rope! Please free me! You'll have a bad time if you were to disobey me!”
She was jumping about and shouting, but settled down when seeing a group coming near her. Her pudgy face suddenly sparkled. “My, Lord Meta Knight! You came to rescue me, right!? As expected from Lord Meta Knight! I surely believed that you'll come to save me!” In her eyes, only Meta Knight seemed to enter. The madam suddenly went limp, and pleaded in a tearful voice. “I was in an awfully frightening situation......I can't stop shivering. Please untie this rope quickly......” “......You've been all energetic just now.” Whispered Kirby. At last, she noticed everyone besides Meta Knight. Her eyes filled with tears just now suddenly twitched up. “My! What are you people! Are you friends with the kidnapper? Could it be, that Lord Meta Knight......y-you people were part of the bad guys as well!? Is that it, huh!? To make me lower my guard, and abduct me......I won't forgive this! I'll throw all of you into a planet of prison!!!” “Please settle down, Mrs. ParfaitLike.” Said Meta Knight. Even with his expression concealed by the mask, sense of tedium seeped out from his voice. “We came to rescue you. Before that however, there is something we want to hear.” “About what!?” “It's about the chefs at your mansion.” As soon as he said so, her countenance changed. “I-I wonder what it's about?” Her voice too, is shrill. “There are several chefs in your mansion, yes?” “Y-Yes......certainly. Since I'm a huge gourmet!” “But there were only 3 chefs that made the cuisine at today's party......what happened to the others?” “I don't know......” “The heck you mean you don't know!” Sir Kibble jumped up and shouted. “We can see right though you! You locked up all the chefs that you don't like in a hidden room! Give back Chef Kawasaki!” “S-Stop making strange accusations! Chef Kawasaki is a third-rate chef! I have no idea what happened to him!” “What did you just say!?” Sir Kibble, Wheelie, and Walky were all about to rush at Mrs. ParfaitLike. However, Meta Knight stopped them. “Mrs. ParfaitLike, there's no use in feigning ignorance. If you don't admit it, we’ll just examine your mansion thoroughly. If we happen to come across any chefs from the hidden rooms, everything will become clear.” “......!” She grimaced in frustration and shouted. “So what about it then!? I didn't do anything bad!” “You......are you still trying to play dumb!?” “It's not something any of you would understand. The importance of foods!” Suddenly, Mrs. ParfaitLike puffed out her chest as if fighting back. “Meal is the most important thing in one's life. Having your fill of what's delicious is the happiest thing imaginable!” “You’re right!” Kirby suddenly agreed, where Meta Knight then warned him in a low voice. “Shut it, Kirby.” However, Kirby didn't hear it. Kirby said while bouncing up and down. “I think so too! I'm the happiest whenever I eat!” “......Oh my, I’m surprised that you speak the same language.” She seemed to see Kirby in a more positive light. “I'm always thankful for the chefs who make delicious cuisines for me!” “Yeah! Me too!” “Me three!” Even King Dedede joined in. “Sleeping is fun too, but eating is more fun!” “I know, right!? I love eating!” “I'm the happiest whenever I eat fatty meat! Without meat, this world is a pitch-black darkness!” “I like meat, fish, vegetables, and even fruits! I also love cake!” “......You people are down to earth.” Facing Kirby and King Dedede, she smiled. “Truly, it's as you say. delicious meals are the greatest treasure in your life.” “Uh-huh!” “For this reason, I can't stand a chef who serves dishes that doesn't suit my taste!” Her tone suddenly became stern. Kirby and King Dedede zipped their mouth, both surprised by that threatening attitude of hers. “Eating something that isn't delicious is the worst pain! It has no use in life!” “......Erm......well......” “A chef that feeds me dishes like that is no different than a criminal! It's reasonable for me to chastise them!” And then, Mrs. ParfaitLike looked at Kirby with blazing eyes. “You think so too, right?”
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Kirby was troubled. Both Kirby and Mrs. ParfaitLike love delicious foods. But what the madam said feels sort of wrong...... “That's why I punish chefs that feed me those dishes. I’m not wrong, am I!?” “U......Umm......but......” Kirby's tongue was tied. It does feel a bit wrong......but, he understands the feeling of wanting to eat delicious foods...... “I have no doubts on Chef Kawasaki's skill. I don't think that guy would have made a terrible dish......” Said King Dedede. “But he did! He fed me an unbelievably terrible dish!” “What did he make?” “Steak!” Kirby and his friends exchanged looks. Steak should be Chef Kawasaki’s master dish...... “At first, I thought it was delicious. For that reason, I ordered him to make only that for three meals every day. Then that Kawasaki said, “Eating nothing but steaks isn't nutritionally balanced!” He talked back to me!” “......Can you really say that's talking back......?” “I say it is! So I threatened him, and he did cook me steak every day. Then, in 5 days, that guy cooked a steak without any taste!” “Eh!?” “I complained, and he talked back to me again! He said, “The seasoning is always the same. It must be because Madam caught a cold that you can't taste anything!”” “......A cold......?” “Right. I certainly did have a cold on that day. Still, that can't be the reason, right!? If he's a first-class chef, he should be able to research a special seasoning for me to recognize the taste even if I catch a cold!” “That's absurd......” “It's not just Chef Kawasaki. Even the other chefs are all terrible. One chef said that pizza is his specialty, so he made one for me. It was so delicious, that I ended up eating thirty whole pizzas in one go!” “Thirty whole......!?” “Lucky...... !” Kirby and King Dedede’s face were on the verge of drooling. “Then, I said afterward, “I would like a baked flan for dessert.” It's my favorite! But I was so full and couldn't take one more bite! I was fuming, so I locked him in the room! I’m not wrong, am I!?” “......This makes no sense.” Meta Knight shook his head. “Mrs. ParfaitLike, you are way too selfish. I ask to free the chefs immediately.” “No! I'm not at fault!” “In that case, we’ll search every nook and cranny of your mansion.” “......Guh! I won't forgive you!” Mrs. ParfaitLike ran amok while tied up. Kirby became somewhat sad. If they were to search her mansion, they can rescue the chefs......but, If the person in question isn't remorseful at all, she’ll undoubtedly repeat the same thing somewhere else. (At heart, I don't think even Mrs. ParfaitLike is a bad person. After all, she threw such a wonderful party, and allowed us to take part in the feast......) Is there any way to make her realize her faults? (But whatever I tell her, it doesn't seem like she’ll listen......) Something suddenly came to his mind at that moment. Deeply absorbed in his thoughts, Kirby shouts. “I got it! There’s something that could reach one's heart more than just words!” “What happened, Kirby?” Asked Meta Knight. “I thought of a way to move Mrs. ParfaitLike’s heart!” “Move her heart......you say? How?” “By singing!” Happy with his idea, Kirby did a somersault. “I read a book before. It's a story where a Princess who closed her heart is comforted by a beautiful song. The princess wouldn't lend her ears to anything they said, but was moved after hearing a beautiful song! So singing is a better way to convey your feelings than talking!” Meta Knight was puzzled. “I certainly think a beautiful music has the power to move one's heart......” “Right!? That's why I believe even she'll change her feelings once she hears a lovely song!” “There's just one problem.” “What?” “How are you going to prepare a lovely song? There's neither a singer nor a music player here.” “-I see! Is it my turn on the stage at last!?” King Dedede puffed out his chest and butted in. “Ah-, ah-, ahhh......ahem, good. My throat is in great condition! I'll sing!” Kirby shook his head. “No, you can't. Your singing will destroy everything. Leave this to me!” Looking down at Kirby, King Dedede ridiculed him. “You're gonna sing? Oh please, you're tone-deaf.” “I’m not! I’m good at sing! I got it, Walky, work with me for a while!” “Eh? Me......?” “Uh-huh!” Bending his chest backwards, Kirby turned towards Walky. Walky winced. “W-Wait a minute, Kirby......” “It's alright! I'm just gonna copy your ‘Mike’ ability!” “T-That’s not alright!” “One, two~!” With all his strength, Kirby took a deep breath. “Stop~! Ahhh~!” Walky was inhaled by Kirby. Once again, Kirby transforms. With a headphone on his head, he is holding a mike. With this, Kirby is now able to make his voice resound louder than anyone! “Now, I'll sing!” Kirby turned around to face Mrs. ParfaitLike. Not knowing what's about to start, Mrs. ParfaitLike is looking at Kirby in curiosity. Kirby was about to sing at once-but suddenly became stumped. (E-Erm......which one should I sing?) There are hardly any songs that Kirby knows. (‘A Song of Breakfast’......isn't very moving. ‘A Second Helping Ondo’ isn't quite right either......is ‘Love Song of Hungriness’ also no good......?) He couldn't think of a suitable song to move her heart. “What's the matter, Kirby? I take it that you can't sing?” King Dedede looked at Kirby with an unpleasant smile. “I-I’m not! I can sing!” “Ha, don't overdo it. Let me sing!” “No!” Kirby resolved himself. (I can't think of any song to move her heart. So there's no other way but to create a song right now on my own!) Kirby composed himself and closed his eyes. Taking a deep breath, one by one he turns any words he can think of into melodies......
Thirty whole pizzas~ Ooh, thirty whole pizzas~ I’m so jealous, lalala~ I want some too~!
Meta Knight flinched and covered his ears. “W-What is that nonsensical song!? Stop, Kirby......” However, Kirby was too carried away by his song to hear Meta Knight's words. (Meta Knight is all trembling! He's being moved by it!) Kirby became more and more eager. He uses the ‘Mike’ ability copied from Walky at full throttle! His voice reverberated throughout the narrow cave, and echoed several times louder.
For pizza, tomato sauce is the clear winner, yeah~ (Yeah~, yeah~) Uhh, after that, cheese important too, huh~! (Huh~, huh~)
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Such an intense singing voice......rather, this is now a sound weapon. The cave walls began to crack. “You’ve got to stop, Kirby! The cave is getting destroyed!” Yelled Meta Knight. “More than the cave, m-my ears are getting destroyed!” Screamed Mrs. ParfaitLike, writhing in pain. Unfortunately, she couldn't even cover her ears as both of her hands were tied up. Closing his eyes, Kirby was completely lost in his singing.
Chef Kawasaki's steak is the best~! (The best, the best, the best~) Let's all try it, beef steak~! Without forgetting the dessert, lalala~! Ice cream is my favorite~! (My favorite, my favorite, my favorite~)
From the cave’s ceiling, soils began to fall in pieces. One of the pieces hit Kirby. “......Huh? What happened?” At last, Kirby stopped singing. “Oh no, the cave is collapsing!” “Run!” The whole crew fled the cave in panic. Mrs. ParfaitLike too, was carried outside by Meta Knight. Just as when everyone rushed out of the cave, it crumbled with a loud sound. Sir Kibble muttered with his face frozen. “Y......You......Kirby, you are......the strongest in Dream Land......” “Eh? The best? You mean my singing? Was it that moving?”
Here, “strongest” and “best” sounds similar in Japanese. Strongest is “Sai-Kyou,” (最強) and best is “Sai-Kou.” (最高)
“You moron! Look, because of you, the cave is now in a complete ruin!” King Dedede was about to berate Kirby, but Meta Knight stopped him. “Stop. On the contrary, it might've been a good thing that the cave collapsed. If Kirby continued to sing like that......” “S-Stop! Don’t say any further. I don't even want to imagine it!” Even King Dedede trembled. Sir Kibble and Wheelie also nodded with a serious face. Realizing that the song which he put all his heart into was somehow notorious to everyone, Kirby was downhearted. “Hey, what did you think of my singing......?” He tries asking Mrs. ParfaitLike. “Eeeek! Stop! I was to blame! I'll apologize, so don't sing anymore!” She bowed her head with teary eyes. “Eh? You mean that you feel remorse?” “Right, I feel remorse from my heart! I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I'll free the chefs, so please forgive me!” Kirby stared in amazement. He didn't really get it, but......for her to cry like this while self-reflecting must mean......
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“I knew it was all thanks to my singing......the power of songs is wonderful......” Kirby did a somersault in satisfaction. The headphone on his head came off, turning back to Walky. “W-Wha? What happened......?” “Tsk! You were so lucky, Walky!” Said Sir Kibble to Walky, who was in a complete daze. “Huh? What do you mean?” “We can talk later. Let's return to Mrs. ParfaitLike’s mansion. We need to rescue the chefs.” Said Meta Knight. “Hey, what do we do with ParfaitLike? Is it alright to not teach her a lesson?” Sir Kibble said in dissatisfaction. “She’s already received plenty of punishment, no? Unable to cover her ears, she was directly hit by Kirby's song.” Answered Meta Knight. “......Y-You're right. If I think of it that way, I do feel bad for her......” “I have an idea. You guys come as well.” Meta Knight turned his cape.
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dinosaurtsukki · 4 years
Text
across the sea | a bokuaka fanfic (act. I)
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inspired by the movie ‘portrait of a lady on fire’ by celine sciamma which is sad and lesbian
pairing: bokuto koutarou x akaashi keiji
word count: 21.8k words
contains: historical setting (actually the setting is vague bec if i tried to describe it more it would take 5 extra pages), heavy angst, slight fluff, greek mythology references, implied smut
summary: when Bokuto accepted a portrait commission for the young, engaged Akaashi Keiji, he never expected him to be so beautiful. he knows it's a mistake to be attached, a mistake for them to fall in love in a time when they know it's impossible for them to be together.
a/n: i’m a sad gay who loves sad lesbian movies and portait of a lady on fire is peak film. a lot of the things here are based on the film so i suggest you check out this beautiful movie, but i added a few tweaks here and there to make it my own. 
chapters: act. I, act. II., act. III
“You’re not the first painter to come here,” the ferryman said. Actually, it wasn’t the first time Bokuto had heard that. And now, he was sitting in the middle of tiny, fishing boat, clutching his tattered suitcase and the thin, wooden box where he kept his canvases for dear life. Mostly due to the fact that if his suitcase or canvases found their way overboard, Bokuto would have no choice but to jump after them.
“Is he a terror?” Bokuto asked, deciding to make conversation with the ferryman anyway.
“A terror? No, none of the painters who came back looked scared. Maybe frustrated or lost is the right word,” the ferryman said. “He never leaves the manor but they say that he’s more beautiful than his suitor.”
“I’ve heard that too,” Bokuto muttered as he gazed over the horizon to the shore where the boat was headed. He wasn’t particularly fond of the job he had to take: a portrait commission. Bokuto would much rather work on the commission from the church in his hometown with his master, painting bodies and landscapes were his specialization. On the other hand, Bokuto was not as confident with drawing the human face, specifically, capturing emotion in the eyes. Which were very, very important for a painter hoping to make his own way into the world. And because of that, his master sent him off to the Elysium Estate, a secluded piece of land nestled along the coast of a provincial town owned by the Akaashi family, to paint Akaashi Keiji’s portrait to send to his suitor.
An hour later, the boat had reached the harbor and Bokuto promptly got off, grateful for steady, unshifting land, thanked the ferryman and paid the fee. Then, clutching his suitcase and canvases, he made his way up a rocky trail to where the estate was. Up close, the large house looked dark and gloomy, as if nobody lived there, at all, but it still looked quite grand with its Greek-inspired architecture and marble columns framing the entrance. Standing outside, as if expecting him, was a young man with short, black hair, dressed in a butler’s uniform.
“You must be the painter, Bokuto Koutarou,” he spoke, bowing formally when Bokuto walked up. “I’m Kageyama Tobio, the estate butler. If there is anything you need during your stay here, please don’t hesitate to ask.”
“Thanks!” Bokuto grinned. “Um, no need to be so formal though. I’m just an apprentice painter.”
“The madam ordered me to treat you as such,” Kageyama said, holding out his hand to take Bokuto’s belongings. Bokuto contemplated it for a while and handed him his suitcase, keeping his canvases closely to himself. Kageyama opened the door to the estate and they walked into a foyer that was dimly lit by a few candles.
“It doesn’t seem like a lot of people stay here, huh?” Bokuto said as he looked around.
“Only the madam and her son are currently living here,” Kageyama explained, taking an oil lamp from the table and walking down a hallway near the grand staircase. “You will be staying in this room for the meantime,” he added, opening the door to a room that was much larger than Bokuto’s master’s studio. Inside was a large, four-poster bed, windows that almost covered the entire far wall, a fireplace, and an easel already set up. When Bokuto glanced at the wall nearest him, he could see a door that probably led into his own bathroom.
“Wow, this is… a nice room,” Bokuto said, unable to find the words to say.
“The madam and young master Keiji have retired for the evening but he has agreed to meet you for breakfast in the dining hall,” Kageyama said, leaving the suitcase on top of the chest at the foot of Bokuto’s bed. “Would you like me to bring up some supper?”
“Yes please,” Bokuto smiled politely and Kageyama left him in the dark, grand room. Bokuto took the time to start a fire to light up the room. Then, he unloaded his canvases. The wooden box that was custom-made for it was nailed shut and Bokuto pried it open with a small tool stashed in his suitcase. To his relief, the canvases were both as pristine and white as when he first packed them. Bokuto lovingly ran his finger across the surface, already eager to break out his paints and start the commission. Just for the sake of being able to paint again.
After a warm meal of bread and soup, Bokuto lay on the soft bed of his room and fell asleep.
The next morning, he was woken up by Kageyama knocking on the door. Remembering that he would be meeting Akaashi for the first time, Bokuto quickly washed his face and dressed into his best pair of trousers and a clean shirt before hurrying to the dining room. The room was half the size of the manor’s living room, but better lit with tall windows that reached the ceiling. The long table was set for two and already sitting there, was Akaashi Keiji.
The rumors about his beauty were true: with his tanned skin, hair the color of chocolate that fell in short waves around his face, his graceful facial features, and eyes the color of deep emerald that followed Bokuto as he walked to his seat. Under the table, he felt his hands itch for a piece of charcoal and paper.
“U-um, Bokuto Koutarou,” he stammered, remembering that he had to introduce himself. “Pleased to meet you… um, sir.”
“There’s no need for that,” Akaashi waved his hand. His voice was soft but he spoke and enunciated every syllable. “So, my mother sent you to become a companion before I’m carted off to Italy to get married. Hopefully, I get to enjoy some kind of freedom before that happens.” He paused and fixed his gaze on Bokuto. “What do you think about all this?”
“Well, your mother seems concerned about you and your health—”
“You don’t have to talk as if she’s here,” Akaashi interrupted him. “She’s the one who’s paying you, not me. Tell me what you really think.” Bokuto blinked at the interruption and one look at Akaashi told him that he would detect any lie. So, Bokuto decided to tell the truth, or as much as he could without spilling the fact that he was painting his portrait in secret.
“When I entered the workforce to get a job, I never thought I’d have to be hired to be a personal companion,” Bokuto chuckled. “But it beats working in a factory. About your situation however, I think it’s a bit sad.”
“Sad? Do you pity me?” Akaashi’s expression was neutral.
“In a way, I do. It must be lonely having to stay here. Maybe your mother hired me so you’d have someone to talk to. In a way, I guess I am perfect for job,” Bokuto grinned. “People say I’m talkative enough to hold a conversation for two.” Akaashi looked down at his plate, as if thinking over what Bokuto said, and then looked out the window.
“I want to go down to the beach today,” he said, Bokuto silently let out a sigh of relief. He had passed whatever test Akaashi had set up. “Accompany me after breakfast.”
“Yes sir,” Bokuto nodded. In front of him, he saw the corner of Akaashi’s lip turn up.
“I’m younger than you. You may call me Akaashi.”
An hour later, Bokuto made his way down the beach with Akaashi behind him, wearing a dark green scarf around his chin and a jacket over his shirt. Bokuto couldn’t help but notice how Akaashi looked at the beach as if it was the first time he was there, and perhaps it was his first time at the beach. Judging by how thin his frame was and his breathing that was almost labored while he walked down the beach, Bokuto could easily tell how sickly he was. Bokuto considered sitting on the sand with Akaashi, but another part of him wanted Akaashi to experience much more. As soon as they reached the beach, Bokuto kicked off his shoes and socks and walked over to wade in the sea.
“Come on,” he smiled and raised a hand encouragingly at Akaashi who eyed him curiously before taking off his shoes and socks, as well as his jacket and left them in a neat pile beside Bokuto’s things. He dipped his feet hesitantly in the water, before walking forward and joining Bokuto.
“Thanks to you, my mother allowed me to finally come down here,” Akaashi said, squinting at the horizon. “We came to live at the estate because the doctors said the sea breeze might do me good, but they kept me locked inside.”
“What do you do to pass the time?” Bokuto asked.
“Read, mostly. Actually, all the time,” Akaashi answered. “Even if I wasn’t allowed to go out, my father consistently sent me books and tutors so at least my learning was up to standard. My mother joins me in the library sometimes to work on her embroidery.” He looked sideways at Bokuto. “I know a lot of things, like the deepest parts of the sea we’re standing in, the trade routes that cross it, but I’ve never been in it.”
“Well, if it’s any comfort, yesterday was the first time I’ve been to sea,” Bokuto admitted. “I never thought waves could rock a boat so much. I was sick to my stomach and I almost threw up over the side of the boat.” Akaashi smiled wryly.
“Did you?”
“No,” Bokuto chuckled. “The sea was a wonderful blue, I couldn’t bear to throw up in it.”
“That’s good,” Akaashi nodded. “I’ve always wondered about how salty the sea is.” Bokuto raised his eyebrows, bent down, and cupped some water in his hands.
“Want to try it for yourself?”
“As long as you don’t tell my mother,” Akaashi snorted. He cupped his hands down under Bokuto’s and bent down, raising their hands. Bokuto felt Akaashi’s lips kiss the tips of his fingers as he sipped the saltwater. Akaashi raised his head, making a face that was half-grimace, half-look of curiosity, and spat the saltwater back into the sea. Bokuto laughed.
“How was it?”
“The saltiest thing I ever tasted,” Akaashi said. “Even saltier than bacon. But now I know how salty sea is.”
They spent the next few hours at the beach, even taking their lunch there after Kageyama delivered it in a picnic basket. Bokuto took the time to watch Akaashi as he picked up rocks and shells to inspect before returning them where he found them, attempting to memorize his unwilling client’s face. In his head, Bokuto pictured Akaashi in a fancy, green dress jacket that matched the color of his eyes, sitting with his hands folded over each other and perhaps a book on his lap. He kept that image in mind when he asked Akaashi if they could head inside. The madam, whom Bokuto was to meet the next day, called Akaashi to the library giving time for Bokuto to begin sketching drafts of the portrait.
He took his time, drawing different parts of Akaashi at first: his hands, his hair, his side profile and ears, his nose and mouth, and lastly, his eyes. Bokuto had to soap the charcoal off his fingers before joining Akaashi at supper, this time making less conversation to observe the details of his face. When he was alone in his room again, Bokuto laid the sketches out before him near the fireplace and made an attempt to draw Akaashi’s eyes again, only to give up on lie on the floor, trying to remember how the candlelight at dinnertime accentuated the planes of his face and the faraway look in Akaashi’s eyes that seemed to lead out to sea.
The next day, Bokuto sat in front of Akaashi Keiji’s mother, or Mikoto, as she preferred that he would address her, in the manor’s library upstairs. Out of all the rooms Bokuto had visited in the giant house, this one seemed to be the most visited by the madam and her son. Like the dining room, it had large windows that lit the entire room. The wooden floor was polished and books that have left their shelves to rest in stacks around the room showed signs of it being frequented, most likely by Akaashi himself. Other than that, there was something about the entire room that felt comforting and warm.
“So, you’ve met my son,” Mikoto said, sipping from her teacup. She looked a lot like her son: same brown hair, green eyes, and sharp features. His master told him that she had one lame leg, thanks to being infected by polio years ago, which prevented her from going around frequently. “How did you find him?” she asked, fixing him with her gaze.
“He’s, well, quite reserved,” Bokuto answered. “Yesterday when we had breakfast, I feel as if he was testing me,” he added with a nervous chuckle.
“Ah, Keiji tends to do that,” Mikoto smiled ruefully. “We used to live near a city when he was younger. But, because of his health, my husband decided to move us here for the sea air. That did Keiji’s health better but unfortunately, he’s had very little encounter with the outside world. When we told him about the marriage arrangement, he’s grown distant from me.”
“Is that the reason why nobody has ever successfully painted his portrait?” Bokuto asked.
“Unfortunately, yes,” Mikoto nodded. “Keiji’s strong-willed and scheming, despite everything. He knows that we need the marriage for our lands and wealth to continue remaining under our family name. He doesn’t directly transgress the marriage, but he makes it difficult for it to continue.”
“He’s probably prolonging it,” Bokuto said, suddenly feeling sad for Akaashi. Even though he was better off with a wealthy family compared to Bokuto who was taken in by his master after his parents died, Akaashi had very little freedom. And now, a marriage.
“Probably,” Mikoto set her cup down and looked at the portrait of her that hung over the fireplace. “Which is why we need you, Bokuto-san. Your master played a hand in helping seal my marriage by painting this portrait. He did well. And now, you must do the same.” Bokuto gulped. “Your master spoke very highly of you. Have you started on the portrait?”
“Yes,” Bokuto nodded. Early that morning, he had sketched a rough layout of Akaashi on one of his canvases. Without Akaashi there to pose, it took a great deal for Bokuto to visualize his position. But he wasn’t his master’s student for nothing. Bokuto was confident that he could paint Akaashi’s likeness.
“Well, I mustn’t keep you then,” Mikoto said. “Call Akaashi to come here. I’ll let you have a few hours to paint.”
“Thank you, Mikoto-san,” Bokuto bowed before leaving the library, closing the double doors behind him. He walked down the great stairs of the manor and was about to head into his room when he ran into Akaashi heading his way. “Akaashi,” Bokuto grinned, trying to make it seem as if he hadn’t just discussed Akaashi’s marriage with his mother just a while ago. “I was just about to look for you.”
“Well, you found me,” Akaashi said. He was wearing trousers, a light blue shirt, and a beige jacket.
“Your mother requests that you join her in the library,” Bokuto said. Akaashi made a face.
“I don’t feel like reading, I’d rather go outside,” he said. “Would you come join me at the beach again? It should be at low tide when we are there.”
“I-I would, but…” Bokuto stammered.
“Is there anything you’re preoccupied with?” Akaashi asked, stepping closer to Bokuto. His green eyes bored into his, searching for an answer. Bokuto relented.
“Of course not,” he shook his head and smiled. “Going to the beach sounds great.” Bokuto groaned internally, thinking about how fast he’d have to paint before sunset. And then, Akaashi smiled, excitement shining in his eyes.
“Let’s go then, Bokuto-san.” And somehow, it was all alright. The two of them made their way to the beach, walking side by side. Akaashi had the same scarf he wore yesterday tied around his chin. Bokuto walked in front of Akaashi when they made their way down the trail along the rocky side of the cliff. Every so often, Bokuto felt the urge to turn around to check how Akaashi was doing, and to memorize the look of his hands as they gripped the side of the cliff, the concentration in his furrowed brow, how his green scarf billowed behind him in the wind. As they neared the bottom of the cliff, Bokuto suddenly heard the sound of rocks falling and Akaashi crying in surprise.
“Bokuto-san!”
Quick as a flash, Bokuto turned around to catch Akaashi in his arms, holding a hand out to steady himself against the cliff with the other wrapped around Akaashi’s waist. Up close, Bokuto could smell the sea breeze already caught in Akaashi’s clothes as well as the slightest whiff of vanilla. For a moment, he wondered if he could catch that scent in the portrait he was going to paint.
“I’ve got you. I’ve got you,” Bokuto said. Akaashi stepped back, steadying himself against the rocky cliff wall. His one hand lingered on Bokuto’s shoulder before using it to pull down the scarf tied around his chin.
“Thank you, Bokuto-san,” he spoke. Without thinking, Bokuto held out a hand to him. Akaashi accepted and the two walked hand-in-hand to the beach.
Bokuto soon found out why Akaashi was excited to go down to the beach at this time. After leaving his scarf, jacket, shoes, and socks in a neat pile again on the sand, Akaashi waded out to sea and bent down in search of hermit crabs and other creatures in the tide pools. Bokuto waded with him for a while before sitting near a large rock and taking out a piece of paper folded around a small piece of drawing charcoal. He decided to focus on drawing Akaashi’s hands, folded over each other, before finding his own hand moving by itself and drawing Akaashi’s eyes, his nose, the scarf tied around his chin that covered his mouth. ‘Stupid,’ Bokuto shook his head, realizing that he didn’t need to sketch the scarf for the portrait. He folded the sketch and stuffed it in his shirt pocket, rubbing the charcoal of his fingers on his pants as Akaashi jogged towards him with something cupped in his hands.
“Bokuto-san,” he stopped, holding out his hands to Bokuto to show a hermit crab scuttling in it. Bokuto let out a chuckle.
“I see you’ve found a friend,” he reached out a finger to gently stroke the crab’s shell. Akaashi had a small smile on his face. “Thinking of bringing it home?”
“No,” Akaashi shook his head. “I read that they easily get depressed when they’re alone. And I don’t think he would want to live in a sink. I just wanted to hold one in my hands.”
“Like when you held seawater yesterday,” Bokuto said, smiling at the memory. “But I’d advice against tasting this one.” Akaashi looked at him with a raised eyebrow.
“Very funny, Bokuto-san,” he said dryly. Bokuto snickered. Akaashi bent down and released the hermit crab into the sand.
“Let’s head back, I’m good for today,” Akaashi said, walking back to where his things were. “I know you still have some things to work on.”
“I—”
“You don’t have to explain,” Akaashi held out a hand. “It was… rude of me to try to invade your privacy. I apologize. It’s just…” Akaashi pursed his lips and looked down.
“I get it. Kageyama isn’t the most talkative person around,” Bokuto grinned, sidling up next to him. “And I was hired to be your companion.”
“I don’t want you to think about it like that,” Akaashi said. “I know it’s not normal. It’s kind of sad that my mother would have to hire someone to be my friend here. So, can we both pretend that your salary doesn’t come from a fake friendship?”
“Well…” Bokuto shrugged. “If we’re going to that, want to add to the pretending?”
“How do you suppose we do that?” Akaashi looked at him curiously.
“If we’re going to be pretend friends, how did our ‘friendship’ begin?” Bokuto asked. “Maybe I was a boy from the nearby village who wandered here, wanting to see the Elysium Estate for myself. All the other kids say it’s an abandoned manor, a haunted one specifically. But I, a brave soul, decided to check it out.” Akaashi smiled and sat down on the sand to put on his socks and shoes.
“On that day, my mother let me read outside, just near the house of course. While reading my book, I couldn’t help but notice a noise coming from behind the house,” he continued.
“It was me, pelting pebbles at one of the windows,” Bokuto laughed, fully engaged in their imagining.
“Lucky for you, my mother was asleep and I happened to appear before you first.”
“I probably screamed like a girl in terror thinking you were a ghost.”
“And then I had to calm you down. And then tell you that there were in fact people living here.”
“And then I sense how lonely you are and invite you to play.”
“And then we play tag all morning and chase each other on the beach,” Akaashi smiled, eyes scanning the horizon again. “That’s a nice backstory. Though, it’s just a story.”
“It’s a good story,” Bokuto held out a hand and helped Akaashi to his feet. Both of them reached the manor a good three hours before the sun set, leaving Bokuto with enough time to begin mixing his paints to begin the portrait. It was probably his favorite part of painting, creating the colors to imprint a real picture on canvas. He mixed some red and white into a warm shade of brown for Akaashi’s skin, darkening the shade for his hair. Bokuto touched his brush to his paints and filled in his sketch. Then, he mixed in white and a darker brown for the highlights and contours. Next, he worked on Akaashi’s suit: dark green jacket and crisp white shirt. Clothing was harder to work on without a model but Bokuto tried to imagine where the creases and folds would be placed and ran his brush over them.
Now that he had begun, Bokuto didn’t want to stop painting, even after dinner when he had to light five candles and place them around his workstation. Eventually, the change in lighting got to him and Bokuto knew he couldn’t continue working like this. He packed away his paints, brushes, and palette, folded up his easel, and moved them to the extra storeroom connected to his bedroom. Then, he gently lifted the canvas, careful not to touch it, and placed it gently in the closet. Lastly, Bokuto blew out all the candles, taking the last one with him to take one last look at his painting before going to sleep. When he squinted, with the candle in front of him, the portrait looked as if it was on fire.
The next few days were like so: Bokuto would accompany Akaashi for walks on the beach or around the fields bordering the estate and the village over. Many times, Bokuto would have to rush his time to work on Akaashi’s portrait before sunset fell. In the mornings, he’d wake up early to check on errors he might have made in the dim light. Most of them were errors in shading, a color not mixed right, but there was little to fix. Before he knew it, Bokuto was almost finished with the portrait.
At the same time, he couldn’t help but feel guilty having to paint this portrait behind Akaashi’s back, knowing all the effort he put into preventing his arranged marriage as best as he could. Even seeing the excited look on Akaashi’s face, which lifted Bokuto’s spirits momentarily, had the bitter aftertaste of knowing that this excitement would all be ruined once Bokuto had to tell him about his circumstances for being at the manor. So, he spent a bit more time with Akaashi, hoping that he didn’t have to finish the portrait so early. That was until Akaashi.
“He’ll likely be in bed all day,” Mikoto said, telling Bokuto the news over breakfast when he asked why Akaashi wasn’t there. “That should give you enough time to finish the portrait by tomorrow, right?” she looked up at him over her breakfast. Bokuto swallowed.
“Yes Ma’am,” he nodded. For once, he wasn’t excited to get back to finishing a painting.
“Good. Keiji’s father has called for me to meet him in Kyushu. I set out to leave tomorrow after breakfast. If you like, I could be the one to tell Keiji about your… background,” she said, spreading butter on a slice of bread. He could tell that she was relieved, probably, knowing that she’d be rid of her sickly son. ‘No, that’s not it,’ Bokuto mentally shook his head, reminding himself that Akaashi Mikoto was simply doing her job as a mother and as someone concerned about the wealth of her family. She wasn’t a bad woman, Bokuto just somehow bitterly considered her as one.
“It’s alright, Mikoto-san,” Bokuto shook his head. “I’ll tell him myself.”
Mikoto smiled at him. Immediately, she looked years younger, just like the woman in the portrait that hung in the library. “Thank you, Bokuto-san. I trust that it hasn’t been easy, having to paint a portrait of my son without having him pose. I have no doubt that the portrait will be lovely, but I’m not looking forward to seeing the look on Keiji’s face after realizing what I’ve done.”
“Neither am I,” Bokuto smiled ruefully. “Forgive me for this but, I believe I’ve come to see him as a friend these past few weeks.”
“I know he sees you as one too,” Mikoto nodded, looking out the window. “I forbade him from going to the beach for years, fearing that something would happen to him. I couldn’t accompany him and Kageyama’s the only household staff who manages the property. These days, you can tell how excited he is in the morning. He doesn’t say it but you can see it in his eyes.”
Bokuto smiled wistfully. In his portrait, he tried to capture the small smile that would come up on Akaashi’s face whenever he was excitedly wading in the beach or showing Bokuto something new. But as successful as he was in picturing it, it didn’t translate in the portrait. The Akaashi Keiji there had a stern expression on his face, his eyes staring blankly. It was still a good portrait, but Bokuto knew that something was lacking.
After breakfast, he spent more than an hour adding the finishing touches on the portrait and looking at it from afar. He was finished with the portrait, but he didn’t want to tell Mikoto or her son yet. Instead, Bokuto ventured off into the kitchens where Kageyama was busy preparing lunch. With going to the beach with Akaashi and being locked in his room working on the portrait, Bokuto saw very little of Kageyama. Knowing that he’ll be leaving soon after giving the portrait to Mikoto, Bokuto felt that he should have at least one conversation with the butler.
“Bokuto-san,” Kageyama looked up from the pot he was stirring on the stove. “Is there anything you need?”
“Just water,” Bokuto said. “It’s alright, I can get some myself.” Kageyama nodded and Bokuto filled his cup at the tap near the stove before sitting at the long wooden table inside the kitchen. There was a bowl of potatoes, a chopping board, and a knife on the table. “Do these need peeling?” Bokuto asked, picking one up and, without waiting for an answer, picked up the knife.
“Please don’t trouble yourself with that, Bokuto-san,” Kageyama said hurriedly. “You still have the young master’s portrait to finish.”
“It’s already finished,” Bokuto smiled up at him. “And believe it or not, squinting at a canvas with a brush full of paint gets tiring after a while. I’m a pretty good assistant in the kitchen as well,” he said, peeling the potato. “But I’m a terrible cook.” A small smile flitted across Kageyama’s face. He sat at the table in front of Bokuto and cubed the peeled potatoes.
“How long have you worked here?” Bokuto asked, hoping to initiate conversation.
“A good five years,” Kageyama answered. “The previous butler was a good friend of mine but he decided to work in a much livelier household.” Bokuto quirked his lips slightly.
“And you don’t mind having a less-lively household?”
“It’s quite ideal, actually. I only have two people to wait upon. Both of them don’t require much, except for when the young master falls ill. The pay is good and the room and board is free,” Kageyama answered. “And the beach is just outside for me to visit.”
“It makes me sad knowing that Akaashi hasn’t visited the beach at least once before I came,” Bokuto said.
“Yes,” Kageyama nodded, pausing with his work to look up at Bokuto. “He’s… a lonely man. I’ve kept wondering again and again if maybe I could have tried to befriend him but… that would be imposing of me.”
“Akaashi probably wouldn’t mind,” Bokuto said. Kageyama blinked at him in surprise before smiling.
“Seeing how lively he is now with you as company, I agree.” Again, Bokuto felt regret in the back of his throat.
“Do you… do you think he’ll hate me after I tell him that I’m painting his portrait?” Bokuto asked. Kageyama pursed his lips.
“I don’t know the answer to that. But I have a feeling he will be disappointed,” he said, scooping up the cubed potatoes and adding them into the pot on the stove. “Lunch will be ready in half an hour. Would you like me to take it to your room?”
“No need,” Bokuto shook his head and then, an idea popped into his head. “I could take Akaashi’s lunch to his room.”
“Bokuto-san, you don’t need to—”
“Trouble myself, I know,” Bokuto nodded. “But I’m finished with the portrait and there’s nothing else for me to do. Also…” he sighed. “I know it’s pretty useless but maybe I could make amends with Akaashi this way?”
“He would appreciate it,” Kageyama said.
Bokuto carefully carried the tray of Akaashi’s lunch: soup with chicken and potatoes, and a roll of bread, upstairs to his room. It just occurred to him that he had never been to Akaashi’s room before and seldom even went to the second floor. Bokuto paused in front of it before knocking once, twice, thrice.
“Akaashi?” he spoke. “I, uh, brought—”
“Come in.”
Bokuto opened the door. He didn’t know what to expect when it came to Akaashi’s room but once he was inside, the whole space undeniably felt as if it belonged to Akaashi. The number of books in his bedroom was probably a quarter of what was in the manor’s library. Bokuto felt himself smile, knowing he found the source of the gaps in the bookshelves. The curtains on the window were drawn back, letting in a good amount of light. There was a small table pushed near the window and on it was a vase full of wildflowers. Bokuto recognized them as the ones that Akaashi had picked in the fields the other day. The owner of the room himself was sitting up in bed, wearing a maroon robe, with a book on his lap.
“I brought your lunch,” Bokuto said, lifting up the tray.
“Thank you,” Akaashi said, his voice sounded hoarse and weak. Bokuto set down the tray at his nightstand and sat down on the chair near his bed.
“How are you feeling?”
“Sick,” Akaashi shrugged, there was a gleam in his eyes that betrayed the fact that he was teasing Bokuto.
“Care to elaborate?” he chuckled.
“I think it’s the usual flu,” Akaashi sighed. “Aches, fever, all that good stuff. Nothing new.”
“Well, you better eat to maintain your strength,” Bokuto said, gesturing to the tray. Akaashi smiled wryly and lifted it to his lap. While he ate, Bokuto looked over at the books on his nightstand. Most of them were books on philosophy and political science. Except for one with a deep, burgundy jacket and a well-worn spine. “Greek Myths and Legends,” Bokuto read aloud.
“It’s my favorite book from my collection,” Akaashi said, sipping some broth from his spoon. “My father had gifted it to me personally before we left our previous estate.”
“I didn’t take you for a fan of legends,” Bokuto said.
“They’re the best things to read,” Akaashi cocked his head. “They’ve been around longer than any scientific theory or philosophy. The very beginnings of how men and women attempted to make sense of a world they didn’t understand yet.”
“When you put it that way…” Bokuto reached out a hand. “May I?” Akaashi nodded his permission and Bokuto carefully extracted the book from the pile and thumbed through the pages. He could tell that the book was worth quite a lot. From the thick, cream-colored pages, the title that was written in perfect calligraphy, to the colored, watercolor illustrations. The fact that this book wasn’t behind a display case, well-worn from reading and placed on a nightstand said a lot about Akaashi. Bokuto flipped to a random page. “The Myth of Prometheus,” he read aloud. In front of him, Akaashi smiled and leaned back in his bed.
“’There lived a titan named Prometheus, the supreme trickster and the god of fire,’” he recited out loud. ‘Of course he remembers it word by word,’ Bokuto thought, smiling to himself as he continued where Akaashi left off.
“’He was tasked by Zeus to form man from earth and water, and he did so. But Prometheus, the titan, grew fond of his creation…’” And so, Bokuto continued reading, not stopping until he reached the end of the myth when Prometheus was sentenced to his punishment of being chained to a rock while an eagle feasted on smalleaccompanying illustration of Prometheus’s punishment.
“Zeus always was the most bloodthirsty of the three major gods,” Akaashi chuckled dryly. “It’s a good story. While it is meant to be a cautionary tale about what happens when you defy the orders of a god, it does bring to light the need for situations wherein such transgressions are necessary.” He paused and turned to look at Bokuto. “What do you think about it, Bokuto-san?”
“Well, I always thought it was about…love?” he said uncertainly. In all honesty, the only time he ever encountered the myth was when his master retold it to him. Greek myths were always the subject of many painting commissions so Bokuto was trained to be familiar with them. The hard part when it came to painting them was adding that slight variation, the artist’s interpretation of the myth.
“Love?” Akaashi echoed. “You seem to be quite the romantic, Bokuto-san.”
“I-I mean,” Bokuto stammered, thinking of a good reason. “Prometheus was in that whole predicament because he loved his own creation too much, right? And it’s almost impossible to love something you created.” It was true, he knew that much, especially among painters. Sometimes that love gets to the point that it was impossible for him to find imperfections in his work, or even fathom being separated from the painting. In the end, most of the paintings Bokuto loved would end up in the hands of the people who paid for it. “It would be cruel of him to deny his own creations that fire, and Prometheus knew the consequences for it. I bet even after being chained to that rock, he would still make that same decision again if he could.” When he finished, he found Akaashi looking at him with an amused expression on his face.
“You’re quire right,” he said. “It’s an interesting take on the myth. I never would have thought of it but then again, I’m not a creator.” The look on Akaashi’s face seemed to lay bare Bokuto’s secrets.
“D-do you have any other favorite myths?” Bokuto asked, hoping to change the subject. “I could read a couple more for you if you like.” Akaashi placed his tray back on the nightstand and folded his hands over his lap.
“That would be nice Bokuto-san. Could you turn to page three-hundred and twenty?”
“’The Twelve Labors of Heracles,”’ Bokuto read aloud.
“It’s a long one. Are you up for it?” a corner of Akaashi’s mouth was turned up in a smile.
“Of course I am,” Bokuto returned the smile. He’s never been much of a reader, especially after being taught by the older painters at his master’s studio and even then, he had been slow when it came reading and writing. At first, Bokuto winced as he stumbled over some of the words but Akaashi kindly helped him through it and didn’t seem to mind. He was quite good at making up voices for characters like Pan, the satyr or Medusa that cracked a smile on Akaashi’s face. Before he knew it, it was already dinnertime when Kageyama brought up their food. Mikoto came in once to take Akaashi’s temperature and before leaving the room, she made eye contact with Bokuto who hgave the most imperceptible of nods. ‘Yes, the painting is done,’ it meant, and Bokuto was back to contemplating how to break the news to Akaashi.
“Something the matter, Bokuto-san?” Akaashi asked. They were both still eating dinner at the table near his bedroom window. Akaashi looked visibly better than he looked earlier.
“I…” Bokuto swallowed and felt his hand curl into a fist on his lap. “Akaashi… I-I haven’t exactly been truthful to you.” Silence fell, Akaashi stopped what he was doing and looked at Bokuto, waiting patiently for him to finish. It only made Bokuto even more nervous. “You see, I’m actually—”
“Another painter that my mother hired,” Akaashi interrupted him. Bokuto’s eyes went wide.
“You… you knew?”
Akaashi pursed his lips and reached for Bokuto’s hand, the one that was still on the table. His hand was smaller and more delicate against Bokuto’s hands, his touch feather-light. “As much as you scrub your hands, you can’t quite erase all of the charcoal and paint stains completely, nor the smell of turpentine.”
“Ahaha, I should have been more careful then,” Bokuto laughed nervously and stopped when he saw the expression on Akaashi’s face: it was the picture of melancholy, and Bokuto felt his heart ache. Did he still choose the befriend him even after knowing his intentions? “I… I’m sorry,” he apologized softly.
“Why are you apologizing?” Akaashi looked up to meet his eyes.
“You didn’t need to be so civil around me since you knew what my intentions were,” Bokuto said. “Your mother told me that you constantly evaded the other painters’ and refused to pose for them to delay your wedding.”
“That is true,” Akaashi nodded, taking his hand back. Bokuto’s hand quickly felt the loss of warmth. “But shouldn’t I say the same for you?”
“What do you mean?”
“You didn’t have to befriend me either. All you had to do was to paint my portrait in secret. You could have quickly denied my requests to go to the beach or ask my mother to keep me occupied for as long as you wanted.” The candlestick on their table was their only light source in the room and it illuminated Akaashi’s features so clearly and Bokuto felt every word he said. “Or is it, you just did those so I would trust you and for your cover not to be blown.”
“I…” Bokuto could hardly find the words. It was just like the first time they met, when they talked over breakfast before going to the beach. Except, Bokuto knew there was something at stake, only he didn’t know precisely what that was. Akaashi Keiji was just another one of his clients. Bokuto’s job would be finished tomorrow and he would go back to his studio with his money and he would wait for his next commission and in a few years, he wouldn’t even remember Akaashi Keiji among the other paintings he would make.
And so, he decided on his reply.
“Yes. You’re right.” He steeled himself for the look of hurt on Akaashi’s face, maybe a few things he would shout. ‘Those are momentary. I would forget about them later on,’ he thought. Instead, Akaashi leaned back in his seat and turned his head to the window.
“I see,” was all he said. And for some reason, that was worse.
“Akaashi—”
“You don’t need to explain yourself,” Akaashi cut him off, he was still looking out the window. “You may retire to your rooms now, Bokuto-san. You’ll have to travel home tomorrow.”
Bokuto swallowed hard and stood up, murmuring a ‘good night’ before leaving Akaashi’s room, running down the stairs, and entering his own room. He was out of breath and livid. ‘Why am I letting that get to me?’ he thought. With every breath he inhaled, an image of Akaashi came to mind. The intense look on his face when he was trying to figure out of Bokuto was lying. The pure excitement at seeing the beach. The hesitance giving way to confidence as he waded into the water. The pucker of his lips when he tasted the sea. The pure concentration as he hunted for hermit crabs. The movement of his lips when he said Bokuto’s name.
Without even realizing it, Bokuto found himself standing in front of Akaashi’s portrait. ‘Painters have an instinct,’ he remembered his master telling him when Bokuto made his first oil painting of a landscape. ‘A lot of us can tell when something is wrong with what we’ve painted. Not when it comes to the technical skills like light or shading. But it pertains to whether we’ve successfully captured a scene that’s alive, and all scenes are, on canvas.’ With his instinct, Bokuto could instantly tell that the portrait he painted of a man with a stiff expression on his face and no light behind his eyes, was not Akaashi.
Bokuto picked up his turpentine-soaked rag that he used to clean his brushed and held it over the face in the portrait. With one swift motion, he swiped it off.
He barely slept that night, knowing for sure that he was going to lose his job the next morning. He was going to be one of those painters who had left the estate empty-handed and frustrated, after getting so close. Yet try as he might, Bokuto knew that he didn’t regret destroying the portrait. So maybe, he could return with his head held high.
After stealing a few hours of sleep, Bokuto woke up to wash himself as best as he could and change into a clean shirt. He did all of this without looking at the portrait. Kageyama called him for breakfast and Bokuto steeled himself to face Mikoto and Akaashi. She attempted to make conversation over breakfast and yet he’d nod once in a while and pick at his breakfast, choosing not to acknowledge Bokuto who felt a deep ache in his chest.
Finally, it was time to unveil the portrait. Bokuto knew that he could simply tell Mikoto that he chose to change it in the last minute but on the other hand, he wanted Akaashi to see what he had done. So, he covered the portrait with a cloth and met them in the library to unveil the finished product.
“Bokuto Koutarou!” Mikoto exclaimed indignantly. She was clearly frustrated and Bokuto couldn’t blame her. She has gone through this same scenario a few times over. “You said you finished the portrait.”
“I did,” Bokuto nodded stiffly. “But… it wasn’t satisfactory enough.”
“You could have left that up for me to decide,” Mikoto huffed. Bokuto glanced over at Akaashi to find that the corner of his mouth had turned up in a smile. ‘Maybe this was his plan all along,’ Bokuto wondered. But it didn’t matter now. “Clearly, you are just like all the other painters who have come here. I suggest you leave as soon as possible.”
Bokuto nodded again, taking the cloth to cover up the portrait when Akaashi spoke up, saying something that neither Bokuto nor Mikoto could have expected.
“I’ll pose for him.”
Bokuto stopped and turned to face him. Akaashi was looking directly at him with a look of mild amusement on his face.
“You will?” Mikoto asked.
“I will,” Akaashi nodded. “I think… it’s time I put off this marriage long enough,” he explained. And yet, Bokuto didn’t quite believe he was telling the truth.
“Oh, Keiji,” Mikoto’s voice softened as she held her son’s face in her hands and enveloped him into a hug. “Thank you. You have no idea how relieved I am to hear that.”
“I know, Mother,” Akaashi said stiffly.
“As much as I would like to ask ‘why now?’, I really must get going,” Mikoto straightened up and looked at Bokuto this time. “I will be gone for two weeks. I expect a fully-finished portrait by the time I return.”
“I shall not disappoint,” Bokuto bowed.
“Good,” Mikoto nodded.
“Let me walk you to the ship, Mother,” Akaashi said, offering her his arm. Before leaving the room, Akaashi glanced once at Bokuto and with an imperceptible incline of his head, gestured for him to follow. An hour later, Mikoto and her luggage, which Bokuto helped Kageyama with, were loaded in the ship waiting for her at the docks. After the ship set sail, Kageyama was the first to head back to the house. Bokuto stayed with Akaashi as they watched the ship sail into the distance. He had a million questions for him but for now, all he could feel was relief. As Bokuto watched the way the wind swept through Akaashi’s hair, he knew that he wouldn’t mind looking at him for the next two weeks.
They started working on the portrait the next day. Kageyama offered to push the long table from the dining room to the side since it was the most well-lit room in the estate. In the middle, they added a chair and a low table for Akaashi to pose on. Bokuto set up his easel and spare canvas at the side, grateful at being able to paint in good lighting after having to work secretly in his own room. He began painting the background of the portrait with broad strokes of a maroon color to keep busy when Akaashi walked inside.
To say that he looked stunning was an understatement. Before Bokuto began his first portrait, Mikoto had shown him the suit that Akaashi was supposed to wear: a dark emerald green with golden buttons and a crisp white shirt meant to be worn with the color turned up. Seeing Akaashi actually wearing it was a different story. The suit hugged him perfectly, accentuating the slight curves in his waist with the high collar just reaching the bottom of his chin. Akaashi had combed his hair back just slightly which showed off his forehead.
“You look…” Bokuto began to say before stopping himself quickly. “Ready.”
“Thank you, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi nodded curtly, unaware of how good he looked. “If you would…” he gestured to the chair in the center of the dining room and Bokuto hurried to pose him.
“Sit slightly forward in the chair,” he instructed. “Back straight. You can rest your elbow on the table if you want but the other hand, please keep on your lap.” Akaashi followed the instructions. “Lastly,” Bokuto reached a hand out to touch Akaashi’s shoulder to tilt him slightly towards the canvas. He was aware of how close Akaashi’s face was and that he was probably staring at Bokuto. ‘In all my years of painting, have I ever worked someone as beautiful as this?’ he wondered, before shaking the thought of his head and backing away to survey the pose. “Good, perfect,” Bokuto nodded before returning to his canvas.
“What expression should I have on my face?” Akaashi asked.
“A neutral expression would be ideal,” Bokuto answered, quickly painting an outline on the canvas. “If you get uncomfortable in your position please don’t hesitate to let me know.”
“Alright, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi said. “Am I… allowed to speak?”
Bokuto glanced up at him and back to the painting. “Of course,” he swallowed before continuing. “I have you to thank for my job.”
“I didn’t do it for your job,” he heard Akaashi speak. Bokuto bit his lip. This wasn’t an ideal position for them to have this conversation.
“Then… why?” Bokuto asked.
“I should ask why you decided to destroy the portrait of me.”
“That… That’s because the person I painted wasn’t you,” Bokuto answered. “I didn’t want it to be the work I submitted.”
“I see…” Akaashi said. He had the same amused expression on his face as he had when he saw the portrait unveiled to him. “It’s just the opposite of what Prometheus did.” Bokuto paused his work to listen. “In your disgust at your creation, you opted to destroy it. Such is the mind of a creator.” There was a wry smile playing on Akaashi’s lips.
“It wasn’t disgust,” Bokuto contradicted him. “It was… a lack of attachment more like.”
“How come?” Akaashi cocked his head ever so slightly, his pose still undisturbed.
“Because my subject wasn’t aware of being painted,” Bokuto smiled, finally deciding to meet Akaashi’s gaze. Surprise flickered there, and then mirth.
“That better be a good portrait then.”
“It will be.”
They were able to finish a good amount of the portrait in that afternoon before Akaashi grew tired of posing. Bokuto was about to offer to go to the beach again but stopped when Akaashi headed straight for his room. ‘Maybe he doesn’t forgive me quite yet,’ Bokuto thought with a sigh, only for those thoughts to end when Akaashi asked him to have dinner in his room, especially since the dining table was out of use. It was a relief to see Akaashi engaged with him in conversation. The book of “Greek Legends and Myths” were still on the nightstand where Bokuto had left it. And somehow, with Mikoto out for two weeks, Bokuto felt as if he wanted to stay in that manor forever.
Before going straight to his room, he decided to pass by the dining room to look at the portrait again. He had worked fast, completing a few days’ work in just one day. The sensation of not wanting to leave was even stronger and Bokuto felt a hard lump in his throat. He walked briskly past the dining room when a small voice whispered in the back of his head: ‘Turn around.’
Bokuto spun around and caught sight of Akaashi standing in the far end of the room. Only, he was pale and almost transparent, and wearing an elaborate suit. Bokuto blinked once and then the vision was gone.
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ashtheshortstack · 4 years
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make them learn - ch 1
Rating: T Ship: Adrinette (sorta)  Chapter 1/3: broken frame 
Tags: Princess Justice AU, Akumatized Marinette, Bullying, One-Sided Reveal, Angst, Hurt/Comfort
Read on Ao3
Next Chapter
“You’re either with me, or you’re against me.” 
Lila’s words were clear and harsh, but Marinette battled akumas on a daily basis. It wasn’t something she couldn’t handle. She feared some things, but Lila Rossi definitely wasn’t one of them. Did the lying brat piss her off? Oh, big time. At first, it was jealousy revolving around Adrien, however, the blond seemed to figure out Lila’s lies all on his own. He didn’t need the constant proof. So, Marinette was comfortable that Adrien would never date someone like that. He wasn’t the type. 
“From now on, you and I are at war. You will lose all your friends and be all alone. And Adrien will soon be mine.” 
Marinette had to give her credit. The brat tried her best, that was for sure. Lila had successfully gotten her expelled, but suddenly just recanted all of her statements the next day and confirmed she made it all up. Blaming it on some stupid disease that didn’t exist, but whatever. It worked. She was thankful for that. Even though Lila’s change of heart clearly had something behind it, Marinette decided to not fret on it too much. It was clear the brat was still out to get her, but Marinette knew that taking the high road was obviously the best option. Adrien was right, there was no need to feed the troll. 
No way could she have predicted that Lila had something more sinister up her sleeve. Of course, she hadn’t assumed that the incident was the last she’d hear from Lila, but Marinette didn’t realize there could be something much, much worse. 
It had been a typical day for Marinette. There had been an akuma attack the previous evening, so she was a bit sleepy, but nothing she’d never pushed through before. She was Ladybug for a reason. She wouldn’t let a little lack of sleep ruin her day. Besides, Marinette looked forward to school. Seeing Adrien every day always uplifted her mood. He was such a kind soul, often lighting up the room more than she was sure he realized. Marinette knew he didn’t have a great homelife with his mother disappearing, assumed dead, and his father being an uptight, strict, recluse. It amazed her that he could be so positive every day. That he could be such a good person. Knowing what he went through just made her admire him even more. 
Despite how she tried to hide her fondness for him, it was difficult. Luckily, Adrien was the oblivious type and had no idea what feelings Marinette harbored for him. And she planned to keep it that way. No matter how much she wanted to be with him, she knew that Adrien loved another girl. She assumed that it was Kagami. They had gotten awfully close lately. And it hurt even more because she and Kagami had become friends. So, it wasn’t like she could hate her or be angry at her for liking the same boy as her. Even though Marinette liked him first , she digressed. Kagami would be good for him. They had so much in common… so it was okay. No matter how painful it was. No matter how much it made Marinette’s chest tighten with an ache. No matter how she desperately hoped that Adrien would see her the way she saw him… 
Taking her usual spot on the bench, Marinette sat with her knees pulled up to her chest as she doodled a few sketches into her sketchbook. However when Adrien arrived in the courtyard and made a bee-line for Nino, Marinette couldn’t help but follow him with her eyes. She could feel a soft small cross her lips when Nino swung an arm over the blond’s shoulder with Adrien grinning in return. It was wonderful to see him happy. She was glad he had a friend like Nino. 
“Hey, girl,” a familiar voice chimed. 
Startling at Alya’s sudden appearance, Marinette gave a tiny yelp. “Oh, hi.” 
“You had that dopey look on your face again. You could try to be a little less obvious, you know,” her best friend teased. 
Marinette laughed and tugged at a pigtail, “Sorry, I don’t mean to,” she glanced back to Adrien with her smile returning and shrugged. “Besides, he never notices anyway.” 
Scoffing, Alya shook her head. “Adrien does notice you. You know that, right?” 
“Well, yeah. But in a friend kind of way. He doesn’t see me the way… well I see him,” there was a sadness in her tone that she didn’t like. 
Marinette didn’t want to be disappointed that Adrien liked someone else. He was human. He was allowed to have his own crushes, right? But… she was also allowed to be human as well. And be sad she’d have to let him go. Maybe it was for the best? She had to focus on defeating Hawkmoth before she could even think about pursuing anything romantic. The world she lived in was dangerous, and she wouldn’t dare get Adrien dragged into it. If he got hurt… well, she wouldn’t know what she’d do. 
Alya bumping her gently. “You sound like you’re giving up.” 
“Not giving up,” she said with a shake of her head, “just respecting his choices. He’s such an amazing person, and I don’t want to get in the way of his happiness.” 
“Oh, Marinette, he’ll see it someday…” Alya fell silent as Marinette gave a non committal hum in response. “In the meantime, are you gonna take all those pictures of him down in your room?” she asked.
“No way, he’s easy on the eyes.” 
The two shared a laugh at that. Marinette returned to her drawing as Alya watched over her shoulder. Eventually, Alya flagged down her boyfriend. Nino, with Adrien in tow, came over to join the girls. Marinette was able to keep her cool when Adrien took a seat between her and Alya and watched her sketch. 
“That looks great, Marinette. Have you thought about entering my father’s next contest?” 
With a giggle, Marinette did her best to stop her heart from pounding. Stay cool, she reminded herself. “U-Uh, maybe. When is it?” 
Adrien smiled. “It’s in a few weeks, I think. I can check with Nathalie and get back with you?” 
“Yeah, sure,” she replied quickly. 
There was a beat before the blond spoke again. “You really are talented. I wish I could draw like you and Nathaniel.” 
“I’m sure you can draw just fine. Someone as amazing as you? I’m sure you're great at anything,” she blabbered out. 
He laughed at that. “Well, thanks. May I?” he asked, bobbing his head towards her sketchpad and holding his hand out for her pencil. 
“O-Of course,” she sputtered and instantly handed him her pencil and book. 
Marinette couldn’t help but watch him as he doodled in her sketchbook. His tongue poked out between his lips, wiggling slightly as he focused on his art. She noticed his brows pinch as her eyes wandered along his face down to his hands. Hands she’d held so many times and wished she could again and again. Granted, it was usually when Adrien was tugging her along to escape an akuma or that time he pulled her in to dance. 
Sucking in a breath, she looked away as she felt her face warm. Marinette silently prayed that he hadn’t noticed the vibrant flush that kissed her cheeks. When he finished, he held up the completed product. “Ta-da! What do you think?” 
In the middle of the page was a poorly drawn cat with a large body, stick legs, and a thick tail. There were dots for eyes and a squiggly cat mouth. Marinette couldn’t help but laugh at the sight of it, and Adrien quickly joined her. 
“Maybe, I need more practice. You should teach me sometime.” 
Marinette’s heart fluttered at the statement. “Yeah, maybe sometime. You may need quite a few lessons though,” she teased. 
Adrien smirked at her. “You gotta be kitten me, Marinette, I thought I was pretty good.” 
She couldn’t help but laugh at the horrible pun. There was a dull sense of familiarity that she shoved into the back of her mind. It was common to make puns. No need to overthink it. 
The bell chimed, echoing through the courtyard. Her friends all stood, ready to head to class. Adrien returned her sketchbook, smiling at her. “You coming?” 
“You guys go ahead, I need to pack up my things.” 
The blond tilted his head. “Need help?” 
“No, no. I got it,” she assured him with a smile. 
Adrien didn’t seem convinced, giving her a once over with a concerned pinch in his brows. But after a moment, gave a slight shrug and started up the stairs. 
Letting out a loud sigh, Marinette took a moment to gather her wits. She was proud she was slowly able to interact with Adrien despite how nervous she still felt around him. Her heart always pounded while her palms felt clammy. Wiping her hands on her pants, she corrected herself. Marinette glanced down at her sketchpad, glancing over the drawing. Adrien signed his name at the bottom with a smiley face next to it. She smiled, hugging it to her chest. Marinette would always cherish any moment she had with him. 
Standing, she gathered her things and headed up the stairs. Class went as usual. Lila was absent for the day, making Marinette relax a little knowing she wouldn’t have the brunette glaring at the back of her head for the day. 
 She took her notes, occasionally glanced down at Adrien (no one could blame her, really, he was so easy on the eyes), and drew tiny doodles on the corner of her paper. Marinette surprised herself with a little cat drawing that replicated the blond’s sketch from before. There was so much to learn about Adrien still. Did he really like cats? Maybe, he was a Chat Noir fan? 
Marinette was yanked from her musings when an akuma burst into the door of the classroom. Her classmates screamed and took cover beneath their desks as Madam Bustier shouted for the akuma to be gone. But the akuma locked eyes with her before smirking wickedly. 
“Ah, there you are Marinette Dupain-Cheng. I was hoping I’d find you here. I’m Crush Detector, and I’m here to expose your crush.” 
Her heart pounded with panic. “W-What?” 
Crush Detector gave a mused hum before prancing over to Adrien who stood at his desk with a gritted frown. “Don’t you want to know the truth , Adrien? We know how you feel about people who lie. I’m here to be honest… because we’re friends, aren’t we? ” 
Marinette watched as his expression changed. His eyes hardened. “Lila!” he hissed. 
Gaping, she looked at the akuma. “Lila?” Again!? How many times could this girl be akumatized intentionally? Was she working with Hawkmoth at this point? 
With a grin, Crush Detector turned her attention to the projector holding up a camera that was clearly the inflicted object. “Why don’t we all see the truth, hm?” 
Marinette watched in horror as the pictures of Adrien on the walls of her room flashed onto the screen, then Adrien’s schedule in detail, her desktop screen, then her. There was literal footage of her pieced together from before school. The entire conversation she and Alya had before class was played back in front of her, as well as her hugging the sketchpad after he’d doodled in it. 
Tears pricked her eyes, her heart dropping into her stomach. Her throat felt tight as her hands began to shake. She was utterly humiliated. It wasn’t a secret to her classmates how she felt about Adrien, but for him to see…
Kim laughed aloud. “You have his whole schedule on hand?” 
“I knew you liked him, but I didn’t realize you were a stalker, Dupain-Cheng,” Chloe mused. 
Her bottom lip wobbled as more and more images of her cooing over the blond were shoved into her face. As booked towards the door, vaguely hearing Alya and Adrien call after her. 
Crush Detector blocked her exit. “Oh, running away from your feelings again , Marinette?” 
She saw red. Marinette shoved Lila’s akumatized form out of the way. She booked it to the bathroom. Knowing that the akuma would be after her any moment, she locked the door, knowing it’d at least delay the process of Lila entering. 
Taking deep breaths, Marinette held her head as she slid down the door. Sobs wracked her body as she buried her face into her knees. 
“Marinette…” Tikki’s voice murmured as she floated out of the purse. “I’m so sorry…” 
With a sniffle, she wiped her face. “We have to catch an akuma.” 
“Marinette, are you okay?” 
Her body felt numb. An emptiness swirled within her. There wasn’t time to care. Lila had done this to purposely humiliate her. And she wouldn’t let that witch get away with it. Marinette called on her transformation. 
She left the bathroom, seeing Adrien searching around the courtyard. He hadn’t noticed her, thankfully. 
Crush Detector laughed spitefully. “Oh, c’mon, Adrien! We know you don’t like her! Don’t pity her!” 
The glare Adrien shot her was bone chilling. “This was the last straw, Lila. I told you to leave Marinette alone.” 
“Oh, but… I’m not Lila anymore, am I?” she snickered as she sat on the railing. 
Ladybug’s fist clenched. Rage flowed through her veins. A heat took over her she’d never felt before. It boiled at her back, shooting up her spine. Her fingers trembled with anger, her teeth grit harshly together. 
“Shut up!” she screeched before wrapping the akuma in her yo-yo. Ladybug yanked her victim harshly, forcing Crush Detector off the high railing and down onto the concrete of the courtyard. The akuma shouted in pain as she met the ground forcefully. “That’s enough! That’s enough! ” 
Adrien was stunned by Ladybug’s appearance, jaw hung open. She didn’t blame him. Marinette had never felt so much pain… hurt… anger… bubble through her. She’d never hurt an akumatized person intentionally. But Lila deserved it. She deserved so much worse!  
Ladybug tightened her yo-yo. “Do you just love to hurt others!? Does it make you happy? What do you think will happen now, huh!? Do you really think Adrien will love you after this!?” 
“Adrien will be mine,” Lila hissed. 
She tightened the string. The akuma gasped for air. 
Adrien took action. He ran over, snatching the inflicted camera and smashing it on the ground. The akuma flew out, but Marinette didn’t budge. When she saw Lila deakumatize… when she saw her at her mercy… she kept her wound in the yo-yo. 
“You have so much hate in your heart. You’re a horrible person! You just love to humiliate others, and for what? It’s not going to make anyone like you. It won’t make Adrien like you. You’re just a coward! Too afraid to be yourself, so you lie to everyone and bring everyone else down to bring yourself up!” 
“Ladybug!”
She gasped, glancing over at Adrien. His face was red. Had he been shouting at her the whole time? 
Quickly, she released Lila and snatched the akuma from the air. She waved off the butterfly silently. Adrien was staring at her with an emotion she couldn’t read. Lila was glaring at her with more fury than ever before. Swallowing, Ladybug gave Adrien a nod before whipping her yo-yo and fleeing quickly. 
                                                           o~o~o~o
Sobs wracked her body. Marinette hadn’t even made it to her bed. She wallowered on the floor, her face in her hands. Hot tears spilled onto her hands. Breathing was difficult through her cries, unable to catch necessary air. She vaguely felt Tikki’s pats of comfort on her head. 
“Marinette, you have to calm down… Hawkmoth will--” 
“I know , Tikki… I know. I-I need to--” she glanced down at her phone. There were many, many missed calls from both Alya and Adrien. Even one from Nino… which may have just been Alya calling from his phone. She couldn’t be sure. Her throat felt tight as she scrolled through her messages. 
There were texts from Lila. How’d she even gotten her number!? Who would’ve given it to her? 
  Hope you learned your lesson about crossing me. He’ll never love you. 
  Marinette didn’t dare open any more of them. She felt sick. Nauseated from the pain and anguish that stirred within her. There were texts from Adrien and Alya, both begging her to call them. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t bring herself to speak to anyone. 
She trembled as she reached up to take her earrings from her lobes. Tikki gasped, looking at her chosen with worry. Marinette held the miraculous out in her palm, gazing at her kwami expectantly. “I need you to take these and find Chat Noir.” 
“Marinette, no--” 
“Tikki, please. I can’t let Hawkmoth get my miraculous. This is the only way to keep the earrings safe.” 
Tikki’s gaze was pleading. “B-But Marinette, you could lead him right to Master Fu.” 
Shaking her head, she took a breath. “I can tell you… the only person I’ll be after is Lila. She--She’s the reason for all of this. This is entirely her fault. A-And if I get akumatized and whatever I do… she deserves it.”
“Marinette, don’t talk like that.” 
“Go to Chat Noir.” 
It was a command. And Tikki knew it. The heartbroken expression on the kwami’s face was answer enough. She floated over, giving Marinette a kiss on the head. Watching her kwami phase through the window, she knew she’d done the right thing. She knew that the best option would be for Tikki to go to Chat. Chat had used the Ladybug miraculous before. If anyone could save her, it was her crime-fighting partner. 
When the black butterfly floated into her room, she wasn’t surprised to see it. The utter feeling of hopelessness that overwhelmed her was like fodder to Hawkmoth. It absorbed into her purse, and a voice echoed in her mind. 
“Princess Justice… your feelings have been exposed to the boy you love against your will…” 
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thereal-linh-cinder · 4 years
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Cinder’s Notes on Harry Potter & the Chamber of Secrets
We’re back with CoS!
Again, massive spoilers for the entire HP series (obviously)
Woo the hell plans where theyre going to stand when dinner guests arrive? you seem so unbelievably inhuman, which, i suppose the Dursleys are, but still...
DUDLEY’S COMPLIMENT FOR MRS. MASON
Because Harry is an unreliable narrator, is it possible that the Dursleys treat him slightly better than is described? Unlikely, but something to consider
Harry is so humble?
He’s also hilarious “[Voldemort] hasnt got a brother, has he?”
bars on the window are a bit extreme
the twins ooze chaotic energy
are the owls that wizards use magical? they always seem to understand humans VERY well...or is it just magic that gives magic folk a better connection w animals? Or is that just how owls are? Or do I just not understand how carrier birds work? 
rather convinient that only the bottom stair creaks and not like. the 13th from the top or something
“Draco made Dudley sound sweet” i mean. childish bullying at school  vs physical abuse for years but ok go off jkr
the twins are 14 and driving a car. in Britain. where you have to be 18. chaos
Mrs. Weasley reminds me way too much of my own mother
Percy wears sweater vests confirmed (are we surprised)
Please take a moment to imagine Percy’s reaction to Hermione becoming Minister
Lockhart + Rita Skeeter (idk what this means but its in my notes)
“got the impression that Snape could read minds” 👀
Lockhart is just gonna go through the whole rainbow huh
Lockhart really compared Harry almost DYING to him winning that stupid smile award. Bruh.
Lockhart has 7 books
I feel bad for Nick :(
There’s so much about the Vanishing Cabinets in this book!
that moment with the salamander and the firework is a gem
Do Ron and Hermione at least hear hissing in the walls?
so Lockhart is basically running the Hogwarts theatre department huh
why was Ron’s first thought toenails
Scarhead? Thats the BEST insult you can come up with, Malfoy? 
Yeah, let the 12y/o deal with the rogue bludger on his own, y’hear? (can you tell I’m a lot older now)
Honestly, Madame Pomfrey? Kinda a savage
If Voldemort was 70 when he died in ‘98, and he went to school with Lucius, how old is Lucius? 
Technically, if all purebloods are related, Harry IS a descendant of Salazar Slytherin. Not the heir obvs, but you know
honestly when you think about it, Fawkes’s death is hilarious. Like Harry’s just chillin and sees a cool bird and then it spontaneously combusts 
Did Crabbe and Goyle ever get their shoes back? 
Ron has REALLY good intuition
Why do they still have Riddle’s trophy on display? Like yeah not many people know that he’s Voldemort but that just feels like the equivalent of like...keeping up a trophy for the kid that turned out to be a sch**l sh**ter
Ok but the younger Weasleys have this knack for bullying Voldy. Twins pelted him with snowballs, Ginny flushed his diary down a toilet, Ron barfed slugs all over his special award....
well Harry if its a DIARY where you conventionally write personal stuff about your day or your crush, why are we surprised that it doesnt even have stuff like “dentist” and “aunt mary’s birthday” or “half past 3″ written in it
RON’S INTUITION BRUH “[the diary] coud be dangerous” “maybe [Tom Riddle] murdered Myrtle] yall know that theory abt him being a seer? yeah
I adore these characters so much bc theyre so real?? Lke we truly watch them grow up. Something about the way 11y/o Ginny covers her face and runs away vs how she acts in the later books just. I adore it. 
So this is where I broke my own heart and froze for a solid 15 minutes. I was beginning to write “I hope the twins sang ‘His Eyes Are As Green As A Fresh Pickled Toad’ at their wedding” before I realized that only one twin got to attend Harry & Ginny’s wedding. I trailed off at the S in twins and you can see how shaky my hand got in the writing (i wrote all of this out in a journal)
Riddle’s personality is so well preserved. (and then I remembered that he made his first horcrux that year and THATS why bc this is 16/17 y/o voldy’s soul)
In Riddle’s memory, he stops by the potions room after speaking to Dumbledore on the staircase. Slughorn is teaching that year. Harry says he is stuck outside that room for “what felt like an hour.” Is this where Tom asks about horcruxes? Technically at this point, Myrtle has already been murdered and its been a while but I’m p sure he asks about horcruxes after class one day. But idk. It really seems plausible, and It’s possible that he altered the memory to show Harry...
this is my least favorite book so i just wrote “this is the most boring book. I’m skimming.”
ah forcing 12 y/o to choose a career path
Quidditch mathces are EARLY (im used to sports matches in the evenings but i guess soccer matches are early and such so it makes sense) (my american is showing)
Is sitting at any table allowed? I never understood that and it used to bug me in the movies. Is it only required to sit at your House table during important feasts? Is that how a lot of inter-house relationships come to be? 
Fudge’s wardrobe was ROBBED in the movie. They really made him look like an established businessman when when we first meet the man, he’s wearing a pinstriped suit, scarlet tie, POINTED PURPLE SHOES and honestly woud it have been so hard to at least give him the lime green bowler hat? Such a staple of his personality
i feel like we tend to forget that hagrid has been to Azkaban
Ron saw Draco being racist and had to be physically held back by his friends. Mans was ready to THROW HANDS. 10/10 absolute icon
The prejudice against werewolves is very prominent.They clearly dont know a lot about them/arent taught (constantly expecting to find them roaming the forbidden forest EVERY NIGHT)
literally WHAT would they do without Hermione
still shocked that Hermione Jean Granger would willingly rip a page out of a book, especially a library book. But maybe thats just the fact that I’m the daughter of a librarian.
is the basilisk page from Fantastic Beasts? They really called it “a page from an old book” its literally in ur first year curriculum but ok boys
Why did Ron toss Lockhart’s wand out the window? He couldve used it instead of his spellotaped one. Granted, it wouldnt have been very good later on if he had, but. You know?
if this Tom is just an imprint of Voldy’s soul at 16/17, how does he even know who Harry is
he already has voldy’s laugh
OH Ginny told him about Harry that makes sense
Voldemort is SO dramatic. Imagine your buddy Tom one day says “hello dearest closest friends, I’ve decided I hate my name so I tried to make an acronym. Please only refer to me as Voldemort from now on. Also I could spell Lord with my name, so I am claiming my new status as a Lord.”
Also he’s holding Harry’s wand. Why is he sending this ginormous, super sow snake after this tiny scrawny 12y/o? Just kill him yourself. Even when Harry gets poisoned Tom’s like “take ur time bro imma watch u die i have nothing better to do” and only when neither of those first tow extra af options DO NOT WORK does he think “oh well guess i gotta use this WAND now ugh” like was he just not corporeal enough to actually use the wand yet or???? Buddy. If you really wanted Harry dead I feel like you could do better.
the fang SPLINTERED in Harry’s arm????????????????? uhm
Harry gets covered in ink a lot in the series
Dumbledore is such a simp for Voldemort honestly
I forget that Harry & Ron get trophies for special services too bro
did Arthur create the Muggle Protection Act???
...why DOES Lucius have Voldy’s old school things? 
Harry and Ron got a total of 400 points for this. But only 10 FOR TAKING OUT A TROLL AT AGE 11 
Lucius is LITERALLY on the PTA hes a school governor 
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bush-viper-cutie · 4 years
Text
“On the Run” || YEAR 3 – Ch.3 (HP au)
                              Chapter List
<-- Last Chapter                          Next Chapter -->
Day posted: 7/17/2020
Word count: 3,119
Relationship: EVENTUAL severus X oc (slow burn)
Rating: E for everyone
Warnings: none
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A/N: This is my first fan fic I’m writing mainly as a way to practice. This is a retelling of the hp books with an inserted character. Although most every character will be written about, this is mostly for the pro snape fandom. Please do not fear, although this is a severus x oc story, it is an incredibly slow burn as I do not intend for them to get together at all until after the final book events. Chapters will be posted twice a week.
This derivative work follows the events of the Harry Potter books by Jk Rowling and is intended as a fun way to practice my writing. Thank you for reading :D
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They had walked for a good thirty minutes before collapsing onto a bench under a light. They were sleepy, tired, exhausted, and starving now. The small meal they were allowed to have had now been burned and their bodies were begging for more sustenance. The night was cold and the wind cut like paper despite how hot it had been earlier that day. The moon was hiding behind clouds and the air was unusually silent for what they were used to.
Privet Drive was normally quiet, not silent, out at night. They could always hear the Dursleys and sometimes even the neighbors as they talked about their new fancy cars or how delicious their wife’s meals had been that night.
Now the street was empty, most lights were out, and things barely looked recognizable. Harry had run off in such a hurry she was sure they had taken a turn down a new area they hadn’t ever been to and the eeriness of the night was setting in.
She remembered the escaped prisoner and knew she needed to get them back, even if it was very unlikely that he’d be walking around Little Whinging – if that was still where they even were. She caught her breath and calmed her heart.
“Harry, we have to go back.”
“We can’t,” he no longer sounded mad and determined, but scared.
Heather put a hand on his shoulder, “Yes we can. We just need to get a hold of a wizard, make her better, and accept whatever punishment they give us.”
“Murder. The Dursleys will kill us,” Harry hung his head and pressed his hands to his face.
“They’re too boring for murder. If anything, they’ll give us up and we might end up with a new, much nicer family,” Heather leaned down and smiled, trying to catch his attention.
“Or we’ll be separated.”
She sat back and sighed, “I won’t let that happen. We’ll talk to people and – ”
“YOU CAN’T DO ANYTHING. You’re not going talk your way out of getting us separated – you think you can fix things and you can’t!”
She stood suddenly, towering over him, “You’re right. My job is KEEPING THINGS FROM HAPPENING. And YOUR job is BREAKING EVERYTHING AND HAVING IT ALL GO YOUR WAY.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he stood and pushed her back.
“You know exactly what,” she pushed harder.
Harry fell back, tripping over his trunk and winced in pain.
“Sorry! I – ”
He held up his hand, cutting her off, “What if… what if we fly to London? We could get our money and live somewhere else with it!”
She put her hands on her hips, “How would we fly there? Our trunks are heavy, we can’t use magic, and Muggles will see us.”
“Well for starters, we’re probably expelled so we can use magic just fine now – ”
Heather winced, not realizing how horrible the situation really was.
“Which means we can make our trunks light as feathers and mount them on the brooms. And last, well its night and dark and everyone’s asleep,” he dusted himself off and opened his trunk, searching for something.
“We can’t just – ”
Harry turned around, scanning the area behind them and she followed his lead, feeling like something was watching them. They both fixed their eyes on the rustling bushes on the other side of the street. They took out their wands and Harry cast Lumos, shining bright light ahead of them.
Heather’s hand went for Harry’s arm and squeezed tight as two large gleaming eyes came forward out of the bush. A large dark lump stepped out onto the curb, keeping its fierce eyes steady, and bared its large teeth. She pulled Harry back and they stepped slowly away from whatever black creature was inching towards them.
BANG
They jumped even farther back and both of them fell onto their trunks as a large purple object appeared in front of them before their eyes. She looked up at the glass doors of a giant triple decker bus as it swooshed open and a conductor in a matching purple uniform hopped down the stairs and looked down at them.
“’Choo two call for The Knight Bus?”
Harry stood quickly and walked around the side to where the beast was and came back shaking his head. The conductor looked at them funny and repeated his question slower.
Heather looked around and shrugged, and then nodded, “…Yes.”
“Then welcome! The Knight Bus will take u anywhere you wish, just say the place and you’ll be on your way! I’m Stan Shunpike, your conductor this night and that,” he jabbed his thumb back at the driver, “Is Ernie Prang.”
Heather turned to Harry and whispered, “We can go back now and – ”
“How much to get to London?” Harry picked up his trunk and walked towards Stan.
“’Leven Sickles,” he squinted at Harry’s forehead.
Heather coughed and directed Stan’s attention away while Harry fixed his hair to cover his scar, “No, sorry, we’re going to Privet Drive.”
“Well I’M going to the Leaky Cauldron in London,” Harry reached into his trunk and took out eleven sickles and handed them to Stan. “You can take her wherever she wants,” he boarded the bus.
Heather scoffed and kicked open her trunk, dug out eleven sickles and dropped it into Stan’s open hand. She kicked her trunk closed and dragged it up the steps. She stood next to Harry, looking at five beds on the floor of the bus, all empty but one, containing a snoring old man with a bright orange night cap.
“You can ‘ave that one, and you this one,” Stan pointed at the two closest beds. “Right, now it’s all settled – Do your thing, Ern!”
BANG
They fell back onto the bed behind the driver as the bus shot forward at incredible speeds. Harry and Heather pressed their faces against the window and watched the lights and cars zoom passed like lightning, street after street.
“H-how fast are we going? It l-looks really fast,” Harry gripped the metal rail tight as they turned a corner on only the left side wheels.
Heather gripped the bed frame to keep from rolling off the bed.
“Don’ know… fast. That’s for sure,” Stan leaned on the armrest of Ernie’s reclining chair. “Five seconds an’ we’re in Wales.”
They watched Stan walk to the wooden staircase and call out to a “Madam Marsh” before turning back to them. “So woss your names.”
“Er,” Harry looked at Heather.
She shook her head and shrugged at him.
“I’m… N…eville… Neville Longbottom.”
“Right… and I’m Heather… Longbottom,” she pressed her lips together and waited for a reaction from Stan.
“Wuh, siblings or somethin’?”
“Yes,” Harry grinned, “Twins actually.”
Stan grinned back and scratched at the few pimples on his chin, “Never met twins before, that’s coo’.”
They nodded and huddled closer on the bed as they narrowly avoided two red double-deckers on the street. Stan either had no regard for his life or had complete and utter confidence in the old man with thick round glasses squinting behind the giant wheel.
BANG
The bus stopped and the bed slid forward. They barely had enough time to bring their legs up onto the bed when the side crashed behind the small driver’s wall. Stan kicked them back and helped an older woman get off the bus.
BANG
They were sent back like a set of marbles trapped in a pinball machine. How the other wizard was still asleep was beyond Heather, but it was incredible seeing a whole new part to the wizarding world besides shoppers, teachers, and students.
“How old are you?” Heather call out to Stan.
He cupped his hands, “Nineteen.”
BANG
They were sent forward and bounced back, and two more wizards boarded and headed to the third floor. As Heather’s eyes followed them up she noticed a fancy chandelier hanging from the ceiling of the bus. It swung ominously over them.
BANG
They bumped the back bed and rolled forward.
“When are we getting there,” Harry held his stomach.
Stan took out a large pocket watch, “In a minute.” He sat on the armrest again and unfolded the Daily Prophet.
Heather gasped as the same escaped convict on the muggle news stared back at them from the front page.
“That’s… Who is that? He was on the Muggle news!” Harry pointed.
“Neville, where you been? That’s Sirius Black, that is. Only wizard to have EVER escaped from Azkaban,” Stan tisked them and turned back to the page he was on, “Woz a big You-Know-‘Oo supporter. An’ only murdered thirteen people…” he looked at them from over the paper, “You two know of ‘Arry Potter, don’t you?”
They nodded quickly and Harry flattened his hair again.
“Good, at least. Well when he defeated You-Know-‘Oo, Sirius Black thought he’d take over, well it took a whole team of Aurors to bring ‘im in and all he did was laugh… Mad fellow, innee, Ern?”
BANG
The bed shot forward and bounced back, knocking Harry and Heather against each other.
“Well, ‘ere it is, the Leaky Cauldron,” Stan dragged Harry’s trunk from under his bed and rolled it down the stairs.
“Harry, look, you can wait here and I’ll go back and sort things out. You have enough for a few nights stay right?”
Harry frowned at her, “Sure. Whatever. If you’d rather live with the Dursleys – ”
She sighed, starting to get frustrated, “We need to stay somewhere permanent. We don’t have jobs. And if we’ve been expelled, we’ll have our wands snapped like Hagrid which means no magic.”
Harry’s frown disappeared and his expression turned worried again, “F-fine… Get in touch with me… somehow. I have enough for a week without your help so, either come back tomorrow if you can’t fix things or send Hedwig to me when she gets back.”
She nodded.
“At least the Weasleys will be back in two weeks,” Harry walked off the bus and rolled his trunk through the barely noticeable doors on the street.
Stan jumped back on and turned to her, “You’re the last one. So where to then?”
“4, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey…” Heather sat back down on the front bed and held on tight as they shot forward again.
If it took thirty minutes to get to the Leaky Cauldron in London from the street they had stopped at, then it took around ten to make it back to Privet Drive. The bus halted in front of the Dursley’s house, whose lights were all still on.
She could see figures through the closed curtains, moving about and a strange pink car parked on the driveway. She picked up her trunk and headed out, waving goodbye to Stan and Ernie. The gravel crunched under her shoes and the night air howled through the tree leaves. She took a deep breath and knocked on the door.
Within seconds the door flew open and an extremely tall and slightly chubby woman with a flashy eyeshadow smiled down at her.
“Ah, Miss Potter, dear, come in!”
Heather stepped through and looked at her awkwardly as the woman looked around outside before closing the door.
“Where is that wonderful brother of yours, dear?”
“He… uh… who are you?” Heather reached for her wand and held it firmly behind her, just in case.
“I’m from the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad – the Minister of Magic sent us, Cornelius Fudge,” she smiled and pushed her through to the living room.
Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia were seated on the couch across from a much smaller – older than even Dumbledore – man with a blue-feathered hat, who sat patiently sipping tea while Marge deflated in the backyard. The Tall woman took out a measuring tape and walked through the kitchen and out the glass doors to Marge and measured her arms, legs, head, neck, and waist.
She walked back in with a big grin, “Just a few more inches.”
“What will she say after all this!” Uncle Vernon grumbled and looked over at her, “So you’re back now, are you? Couldn’t handle the real world out there, could you?”
“Now, now, a deal’s a deal,” the tiny old man sung, “We put everything back to normal and the wee Potters can stay as they were, right here in their home.”
“MY home,” Uncle Vernon grumbled again.
“Where is your brother, dear?” the tall woman looked around again and down at Heather’s trunk.
“Not here… At the Leaky Cauldron – ”
“Ah, well then he’ll see the Minister of Magic there – he thought that was where he’d go – only a shame we couldn’t meet him.”
“Shame,” the tiny man repeated and took a sip of tea.
“Is… he in trouble? Are we expelled?”
“Oh dear, of course not! For blowing up your Aunt?” she laughed.
Uncle Vernon made a disgruntled noise.
“So…” Heather was trying to wrap her head around everything, “But last year a house elf’s magic got us in trouble – ”
“We should leave the past in the past, unless you’ve got yourself the right permits” the tiny man laughed, “Your brother will be staying there for the remainder of your vacation and there should be a room there for you too, paid for by the Ministry of course.”
Heather blinked multiple times, trying to understand how it was possible for Harry to have blown up Marge only to get them free rooms at Diagon Alley. She excused herself and walked out of the room and made her way up the stairs. Dudley was sitting on his bed watching his tv when she walked by and saw him jump off the bed and hide under it.
She walked into the bathroom and locked the door. She took a deep breath and crumpled onto the soft lime green mat, mentally and emotionally exhausted. She rolled onto her back and winced, digging out from under her a sharp green letter.
“I forgot!”
She unfurled it and ripped it open, pulling out a nice thick green card from inside.
‘Potter. If you don’t want to lose your spot on the team then I suggest you practice. You can either do a mediocre job with those Weasleys or you can come over to actually train with an experienced player.
– Draco Malfoy.’
It had slanted writing but overall, it was pretty neat, neater than Harry’s at least. She ran her hands through her hair and sat there thinking. He was right about them possibly losing their places if they didn’t train like Marcus wanted, with specific drills and everything. She loved Quidditch, almost as much as potions and herbology, and way more than art… but not as much as Harry and not more than she liked her friends who would likely see her going over as betrayal.
She laid back down and thrashed about angrily before sitting up and accepting how things where. She opened the door, walked out – ignoring Dudley’s squeal – and passed their open bedroom door when she saw Hedwig standing on the windowsill.
She ran over and took the letter from her beak.
‘Heather! Everything’s ok we aren’t going to Azkaban and we aren’t expelled! The Dursleys have to take us back and we get our own rooms here! For three weeks! For free! Food too! No punishments! Can you believe it? Hurry back!’
She frowned and took out a pen from their desk drawer, flipping the parchment over to respond.
‘I didn’t know YOU could have gone to Azkaban. And good we aren’t expelled.’
She paused and thought some more about Draco’s letter. She hated how happy he was everything worked out. He should have at least gotten a stern talking to… Well maybe she could make him see that not everything turns out well. She continued writing:
‘But the Dursleys are still extremely upset. I told them it was me since I’m the one back, and they say if I clean up around the house and do all the chores for the rest of vacation, then they won’t make us sleep outside next summer.’
“There.”
She would be killing four birds with one stone now. He would see she was right to come back, that there WERE repercussions to his actions, he would feel guilty, and she’d be able to go train with Draco without Harry knowing. She looked at the letter for a bit longer, knowing how guilty she’d feel lying like this. Not to mention the fact that last year Draco was saying awful stuff about Hermione and all the other muggle-borns…
“But Quidditch…” she groaned.
It wasn’t fair lots of Slytherins had such bad attitudes and opinions. She hadn’t even made any friends in her house yet for fear they’d be bad people and Harry, Ron, and Hermione would disapprove. And it was even worse that the only person her age on the team was a Malfoy. But she didn’t want to lose her place. And for the moment, he was the only one who was willing to go through all of Marcus’ drills with her and knew what they were.
“It’s not like we can play Quidditch in Diagon Alley,” she smiled and tied the letter to Hedwig’s leg, “See you, Hedwig. Make sure Harry is keeping me updated, alright?”
Hedwig hooted happily and flew away into the night. She went back downstairs and watched as Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia got Marge into the house and up the stairs.
“Memory wiped and no harm done,” the tall woman smiled, “Shall we give you a lift?”
Heather smiled back, “That would be great, thank you… Do you know where Malfoy Manor is?”
The woman frowned, “My dear, are you sure you wouldn’t rather be with Harry Potter? The Malfoys – ”
“I’m sure, thanks,” Heather cut her off as politely as possible.
She knew everything she’d say. How could a POTTER go to the house or even be friends with a MALFOY, former Voldemort Supporters? Mortal enemies of famous HARRY POTTER? Well, multiple people have also asked how she, a Potter, could be a Slytherin and so it didn’t matter to her. All she wanted, was to be just as good at Quidditch as Harry – so long as it was still fun – and prove BOTH Potters were skilled and powerful. Not just Harry.
“I’ll put your trunk in the back then,” the tall woman exited the house.
Heather followed the other wizard to the car and got settled in the back. The woman closed the trunk and got in the diver’s side and started the car, pulled out and headed away from Privet Drive and to what Heather hoped was Malfoy Manor and not the Leaky Cauldron.
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10 notes · View notes
jaewrxtes · 5 years
Text
«Chapter One: In the Village ♖»
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
# of Words: 2131 [About 2.1k]
Summary: Meeting the main character and her friends~
Warnings: None :D
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
[Flashback]
Children ran around on the dirt roads that were all around the village.
“Tag! You’re it!” one of the kids shouted as they tapped the shoulder of on of their friends.
“Taejun come back here!” The boy the kid tagged shouted.
“YOUNGMIN IS IT!!!” Taejun shouted as he ran away from the boy and towards the other kids.
“Jun don’t run near us!!” One of the girls shouted.
“Boohoo Yiren!” He said with a smirk, “YOUNGMIN THE GIRLS ARE OVER HERE!!!”
The boy ran towards them and they all ran around everywhere, having fun while being themselves.
The sun was starting to set and the youngest out of all of them was panting.
“I’m tired” He said in a cute tone.
One of the girls sighed, “Minnie let’s go sit down then.” “Minjae no want to!!!” The boy said with a pout, “I no want stop fun!”
“You little kid..” Taejun laughed, “Minjae, we can have fun tomorrow okay?” “But me want fun with Rin-noona!” Minjae told him, “Rin-noona!!” “Kiddo we’ll have fun tomorrow okay?” The girl told him, “I promise.” “See Minjae! Jaerin said we’ll have fun tomorrow!” [Y/n] told him with a smile.
The six kids all laughed and already started planning out what they would be doing tomorrow.
“We should make cloaks tomorrow!!” Taejun exclaimed, “I can steal some fabric from Taeil-hyung’s stash!!!” “Ye ye!!! Minjae want cloak!!!” Jaerin frowned, “Stealing from your brother really, Taejun? Why don’t you just ask him?”
“Where’s the fun in that miss bookworm? Hm?” The boy retorted.
The two glared at each other for a while and it was silent.
You could hear a pin drop with how quiet it was.
“lIKE aWKwarD sILENCE!!!” Youngmin shouted.
“cAW CAw cAw!”
The twins laughed together and the rest of the group stared at them before laughing along with them.
“Jaerin! [Y/n]!” The kids heard someone shout.
They all turned around and saw the brother of Jaerin waving at them.
“Kun!” His little sister shouted with a smile as she ran up to him.
He smiled and ruffled her hair, “Hey there kid. I’m here to pick you and [Y/n] up. Remember you two are having a sleepover today.” “nO fAIr yOu gIRLs aRE haVING a sLEEPover wiTHOUT mE!” Taejun shouted with a pout.
“We hang out everyday Jun, chill.” [Y/n] told him with a laugh.
“Everyday hm? WHAT ABOUT EVERY NIGHT HMMMMM????”
Youngmin placed his hand over Taejun’s mouth and sighed, “I’m sorry hyung.. You can take [Y/n] and Jaerin! We’ll be heading home too!” “No need to apologize, kiddo. Say hello to Youngho-hyung for me.” Kun told him, “[Y/n] let’s go?” “Coming!” She shouted and ran to join Jaerin and her brother.
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
[Present Day]
“I miss those days..” Taejun laughed, “If only the twins didn’t have to move to Ravaia..”
“And your brother didn’t have to go study in Florgia.” You said with a sigh, “At least Jaerin studies in the kingdom still.” The boy grinned, “Rinnie will always be here as long as her family��s library is here~ And I’ll always be here as long as I live!”
You tilted your head in confusion, “Right before we were talking about our memories you just said that you were gonna die because of Prince Woo-” “AH BAH BUH BUH! SHHHHHHHHHHHH!” Taejun shouted, “ qUIET [Y/n]!”
People started staring at you two and you both stared at each other blankly in confusion.
“Okay people stop staring!” Someone shouted, “It’s very impolite!”
The girl had long brown hair, tied up into a ponytail with a white flower clip covering the tie. She had a white button-up shirt and a knee-length black pleated skirt on with a matching navy tie and black flats.
“Rin! You’re back!” Taejun exclaimed, “I thought your lessons went on for another hour!”
The girl nodded, “They were but Mr. Kim was summoned to the castle. I was able to leave early because of it.”
“So Jaerin, what do you have to teach us today?” You asked with a smile.
She sat down at the table where you and Taejun were sitting at and shrugged, “Sadly, I have nothing to teach. I just reviewed what I learned last time.”
The boy who was once sitting, stood up and gave Jaerin a back hug, “Did you see any of the princes~ Did you see Prince Yeo-” “I will shove a book down your throat Moon Taejun.” She cut him off with a glare as she pulled his arms off of her.
You laughed at the two and they started laughing along with you.
“But seriously. I heard some of the Princes were coming today.” Taejun said, “I just didn’t know which ones.” “Now where did you hear that from?” You asked, “The old fashion ladies that throw fabrics on you?” The boy laughed and shook his head, “Nope! Prince Seonghwa is coming to the village today along with another prince to check out the Library. I heard from Mrs. Jeon.” Jaerin’s eyes widened and she abruptly stood up, almost falling.
“THEY ARE WHAT?!” She shouted.
Jaerin’s family ran the Village Library and not many people go there unless they want to read some ‘stupid’ books or if they were students, which are rare.
The library was a normal hangout place for the trio and all the books meant so much to Jaerin as she could learn more and help teach her friends something with them.
Plus she has an emotional connection with it as her family has run it for generations and her family has done so many things together there.
“They are going to the library dear. Now chill~” Taejun said.
You nodded, “Rin, everything will be fine. Don’t worry!” “dON’t wORRY?!” Jaerin gasped, “MY PARENTS ARE OUT OF TOWN AND KUN IS PROBABLY WITH TEN AND SICHENG! There’s no one at the Library!”
You and Taejun patted her shoulders and grabbed her bags for her.
“Well then, no more time to waste! We are heading over to the Library!”
The three of you rushed to the library to clean up and prepare for the Princes’ arrival.
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
Once you were all in the library, you all grabbed brooms to sweep the floors and you helped Jaerin organize the tables, front desk, and books.
Taejun continued to organize the books that were left on the desks as Jaerin went to the back to get some new books out.
“I can’t believe the royals are actually coming here..” You said.
“Same here. When I first heard about it I didn’t believe it until my parents told me it was true.” The boy said, “The princes rarely go to the village library since they always use the royal library in the castle.”
You finished sweeping the floors and the dust that was once on the wood floors was now gone and the desks were clean with no clutter on them.
“I wonder why they are coming here..”
Taejun was about to respond when the doors of the library suddenly opened. You both turned around and saw two males standing in front of you.
The taller one was wearing a purple and silver coat over a white button up shirt and the other one was wearing a red and gold coat over a black button up shirt.
A gold pin could be seen on the right side of the coats. The pin of the royals. The princes had finally arrived in the village.
You and Taejun then bowed and greeted the princes.
Taejun smiled, “Good day your highnesses. I hope the travel wasn’t hectic.” One of the princes grinned, “Good day to you too. The travel was just fine.”
You looked at the prince and it was the one and only Prince Park Seonghwa.
The other was Prince Kang Yeosang, as he wears red and gold.
Yeosang stared at the two of you, his gaze piercing through you both like a knife, “I’m looking for Qian Chengren.” The name was unfamiliar to you and Taejun and you just blankly stared at them.
“U-Uhm, could you repeat that your highness?” You asked politely.
Yeosang repeated it, “Qian Chengren.”
You looked at Taejun and he shrugged, which was unusual as he knew everyone in the village.
“I’m sorry uhm-“ You tried explaining but Jaerin came out of the back room.
She set down the new books on a desk and bowed, “Hello your highnesses.”
“Good day Madam. We’re looking for Qian Chengren.” Seonghwa explained, “Do you know who that is?”
Jaerin smiled, “That would be me, your highness. But I am known to others as Jeon Jaerin. I apologize for the confusion.”
“No need to apologize.” Yeosang said with a smile as he bowed, “It’s a pleasure to meet you again.”
Her once confident mask was then gone, she was confused and nervous again.
You walked to her and placed a hand on her shoulder.
“A-Again? D-Did we meet earlier?” She asked.
The prince nodded, “When we were younger. We were also with Prince Hwanwoong of Ravaia.”
Taejun spoke up, “Wait wait wait, so you met Rin when you were younger. And now you’re talking to her after a lot of years?” “Precisely.” He responded.
“Then why is Prince Seonghwa here?” You questioned.
The older prince sighed, “I only came to pick up a book. The Stories of the Constellations?” Jaerin smiled, “We just got some of those today. I shall go get you one.”
She turned around to go back to the storage room when Seonghwa spoke.
“Thank you Jaerin. Yeosang go with her.”
“Yes hyung.” The boy obediently said and went to follow your friend.
The two left you all in the room as they went to grab the book Prince Seonghwa ordered.
Complete silence filled the room. Taejun went to sit on one of the dark and old tables and you just fidgeted with your sleeve.
“So what are your names?”   Both your heads turned towards the prince and you just looked down and away from his gaze.   “I’m Moon Taejun. My parents run the clothing and tailoring shop.” Your friend said and then he pointed towards you, “That’s [L/n] [Y/n]. Her family runs the flower shop. Sorry about her.. She can be an awkward chicken at times.”
“Hey! That’s mean!” You exclaimed with a pout as you looked at Taejun.
The prince chuckled, “You two remind me of Prince Mingi and Prince Wooyoung.” A screech was then heard and then a body was on the ground.
“And you say I’m the awkward chicken.” You shook your head at Taejun, who was on the ground, frozen.
“sHUSH tHE friCK fRACkY uP yOU bURNT aVOCAdO!” Taejun stuttered out.
“How am I a burnt avocado now-”
You all stopped when you heard laughter coming from the entrance of the storage room. There stood Jaerin and the prince, laughing and smiling together. Prince Seonghwa stared in awe at the two and a smile appeared on his face too.
“I can’t believe it.. Yeosang is genuinely smiling.” He said, “He must’ve taken a liking towards you Miss. Qian.”
You also stared at the two, watching as they looked at all of you. Jaerin gazed towards you and then to Taejun and then to the prince.
“I suppose I do.” Yeosang told him and he held up a book, “Here’s your book hyung.”
He walked up to his brother and handed him the book.
It was a book with a dark blue leather covering. There was a bronze moon with stars of the same color surrounding it. Brown leather covered the spine of the book.
“Thank you, Yeosang.”
Seonghwa started flipping through the pages with a smile on his face before closing it.
“Is there anything else you need, your highness?” Jaerin asked.
He shook his head, “There is nothing else. Thank you for the book.” “Of course.” Seonghwa patted his brother’s shoulder and smiled at all of you, waving with his other hand.
“I suppose it’s our time to go. We’ll meet again soon.” He said.
Yeosang nodded in agreement, “We shall. Good day to you all.” You and Taejun stood next to Jaerin and bowed to the two princes.
“Good day to you both as well, Prince Seonghwa and Prince Yeosang.” You replied.
The two turned to walk out of the library when Seonghwa paused and turned towards you.
“Just Seonghwa is fine, [Y/n].” He then winked and walked out of the library alongside his brother.
You stood there in shock and you were frozen in place as Taejun started screeching.
“THE PRINCE STRAIGHT UP TOLD YOU TO DROP HONORIFICS WOMAN!”
“THIS IS A LIBRARY TAEJUN SHUT UP!” Jaerin shouted at him.
The two quarrelled and still all you could think about was what the eldest prince had just told you.
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plant-flwrs · 3 years
Text
late night rendezvous // george weasley
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masterlist!
content warnings: smut!
soft and fluffy smut, i’ll put a little indicator (*) when the smut starts, so if you’re not into that you can stop reading there <3
a/n: i have absolutely no idea if this is good, i’ve been rereading it over and over again in my drafts debating if i should post it. give me feedback if u have any, i’d really appreciate it on this one! hope everyone is safe and happy and amazingly wonderful, love u guys, thank u for reading, thank u for following, thank u for just existing!! 
summary: You and George sneak off to the library for some privacy 
(6.2k)
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The Ravenclaw common room, while studious and peaceful, was not romantic. George had laid you down on a couch gently, hovering on top of you perched on his hands whispering sweet jokes to you. It was lovely, but a sharp and unfamiliar pain was pressing into your back. You pushed George off of you slowly, turning around to see what you were laying on. A book was there, misplaced as so many books were in the Ravenclaw common room. 
You groaned, hearing George chuckle from behind you as you got up and put the book on the shelf resting against the wall.
“Want to go somewhere else, love?” George asked you, getting off the couch and walking over to you. You couldn’t help but admire him as he walked, his hair that was sticking up in odd places from where you had run your fingers through it, his wrinkled shirt that he hadn’t bothered to straighten when he stood, his lazy grin. 
“It’s almost curfew,” you said sadly, leaning your back against the shelf.
“That’s never stopped us before,” George whispered, close to you now as he rested his hands on shelf behind your head.
You scoffed and rolled your eyes, resting your forehead on his strong chest. You felt it rise and fall with calm breaths, one of his hands moving to stroke your hair. You thought back to George’s body against yours a moment ago. His slow hands on your face as he cradled your jaw and kissed you. He was so slow and gentle tonight, a nice change from his usual confident and sly demeanor. 
You and George hadn’t had much time for each other this week; George was busy with Angelina’s rigorous Quidditch trainings and you had course work piled up to the sky. It was a Friday night, George had practice off, and you had managed to get your course load down to a much smaller pile. 
You lifted your head from his chest, looking up at him, “Where did you have in mind?”
George gave you an excited grin, biting his bottom lip in an attempt to hide how pleased he really was. He took a step back, letting his hands fall from the wall to your hips. 
“The library? No one’s in there this late on a Friday,” he was already pulling you off the wall, leading you to the door.
“Alright,” you giggled, letting him drag you off. 
You walked slowly behind him, crouching slightly as he held his illuminated wand to the Marauder’s Map. Filch’s footsteps were walking down an adjacent corridor, and Mrs. Norris crept down a hallway on the floor below you. George looked around a corner, doublechecking it’s safety, and grabbed your hand to pull you along. 
You two made it to the library fairly quickly. The candles in the hallway gave a dim light that prevented you from stepping on George’s heals, but inside the library was pitch black. George held his wand up and guided the way.
You walked past the front desk, Madam Pince long gone for the night. You walked past the first row of bookshelves, past the groupings of tables used for studying, past more shelves, past some desks, and to the back of the room. The back wall was covered in various maps, ancient printings of foreign lands. George walked along the wall until he was far into the corner, hidden from the door by a bookshelf that met the wall. You followed him, walking slower as your hand traced the maps. George sank down to the floor, his long legs stretching across the carpeted floor. You stayed standing, looking at a smudged sketch of what a birds-eye view of the Forbidden Forest looks like. There was small labeling in loopy cursive of different creatures that lived in different regions, marking the unicorns to live in a flower patch and mermaids to live in a small pond with a waterfall. George watched you, your face shining in the small light cast from his wand. 
He looked at the space around you, small and uncomfortable. He lifted his wand, moving the light from your face and the wall of maps. The light ceased as he moved it, and suddenly you felt a soft and plush material at your ankles.
“George?” you called into the darkness.
The light was back again, and you saw why it had gone.
George had conjured a few blankets, some pillows, and a candle. He was already moving to lay the blanket down over the floor, covering the small space from the wall to the shelf. He propped the pillows against the wall, falling into them once he lit the candle and placed it on an empty part of the bookshelf near the ground. 
You sank to the floor next to George, a bashful smile on your face. You curled into his side, resting your head on his shoulder as his arm pulled you close to him. Your arm fell on his chest, fingers playing with the collar of his shirt. His hand on your waist, holding you to him, lifted the bottom of your shirt and drew shapes on the bare skin of your hip. 
“I’ve missed you this week, Georgie,” you whispered, watching as he used his free hand to cast away the light coming from his wand.
A flickering candleflame shown upon the both of you, casting moving shadows on George’s face as he looked down at you. 
“I’ve missed you too,” he sighed, somehow pulling you closer as if he was afraid you were going to drift away, “so much.”
You felt him shift slightly, and his lips were pressing open mouth kisses to your forehead. You closed your eyes, tilting your head up to him with an easy smile. He pulled away, gazing down at you.
“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, a small grin on his lips.
“So are you,” you replied, blushing under his intense gaze.
You moved in his grip, laying more on your stomach with half your chest resting on George’s. Your left arm was propping you up on your elbow, hand wrapping around George’s strong bicep. Your right arm stayed on George’s chest, your hand moving to the side of his neck. Your leg rested between George’s, and his rested between yours.
“Will you read to me?” he asks, his voice incredibly soft and vulnerable. 
You agreed wordlessly,  leaning over George’s body and picking up his wand from the ground beside you.
“Accio ‘The Tales of Beedle the Bard’,” you whispered, sitting up and waiting for the book to come to you.
You heard George chuckle from behind you, also sitting up and resting the back of this head against the wall. 
The book fluttered to you, coming from a few rows over. You clutched the book in your hands, scooting back to lean against the wall with George. 
“C’mere,” you whispered, patting your thigh and motioning for George to lay down again.
He obeyed, fighting a content smile as he curled between your legs and laid his head on your abdomen. His arms wrapped around your middle, and you moved down the wall so your back was on the floor but your shoulders were against the wall. One hand held open the book while the other played in George’s hair. 
He listened silently to your quiet and calming voice as you read the children's story to him, tightening his grip around you once again. Your hand ran down his neck, your fingers creeping beneath the collar of his shirt as you felt the muscles on his back tense and relax under your light touch. He sighed, burying his head into you as his eyes fluttered closed. 
You two stayed like that for a while; your hand running from his hair to his back, him shifting his head every few minutes to let you know he was still awake. You read to him with ease, a small smile on your face. 
The peace, however, was not kept for long. A creek in the front of the library caused you to snap the book shut, your hand freezing as it crept its way down George’s neck. George lifted his head from your stomach, looking towards the front of the library. He attempted to peak through the shelves, but thought better of it and simply blew out the candle. 
In the silence, waiting for another noise, you heard the soft purring of a cat.
“It’s Mrs. Norris and Filch!” you whispered as quietly as you could to your boyfriend.
George sprang into action, picking up the blankets and handing you the pillows and candle. He grabbed his wand and you grabbed the book, moving to stand behind George as he moved a few books to try and see through the shelf. His brow furrowed in concentration, and a bit of relief flood through you as you remembered who you were with. George and his brother were experts on escaping the wrath of Filch, and you had faith in him. 
George waved you on, leading you as he did before through the shelves of the library. You had no idea what his plan was, watching nervously through cracks in spaces as Filch shone his lamp down every row in the library. 
Filch nearly passed you both, but George crouched just in time, pulling you with him. You watched as Filch shone the light down the isle you and George had been curled up in, feeling relieved to have moved in time. Suddenly, George’s hand in yours was pulling you down a narrow space between shelves, one leading to the restricted section. You widened your eyes, never having been in the restricted section and also noticing Filch heading there as you both did. You silently trusted George, letting him pull you along. 
The light from Filch’s lamp was edging closer to your feet, but George pulled a sharp turn into the wall. You turned away from where Filch was coming from, looking towards George. He pulled open a curtain, revealing a little nook in the wall that seemed untouched and abandoned. There were cobwebs in the corners and dust on ever surface, but you and George climbed in anyways. He pulled the curtain shut slowly and silently, putting his fingers to his lips as he looked at you. You nodded, biting your lip as you slowed your panicked breathing. 
The nook had a large window parallel to the curtain, lighting up the space. You could see George’s giddy smirk, knowing he enjoyed risky moments like these.  You fought the urge to laugh, rolling your eyes instead. 
You watched the ground through the sliver of space between the curtain and nook, seeing Filch’s light pass by slowly. You heard his labored breathing and Mrs. Norris’s quiet purrs, holding your breath and hoping they pass without worry. Mrs. Norris stopped for a moment, and you heard her purrs get louder as she came closer to the curtain. She was nearly ducking under the curtain when Filch called her away, grunting as he spoke aloud to the cat.
“No one in here tonight, Mrs. Norris, now let’s go finish our tea and biscuits,” the old man said excitedly to the cat, limping away.
You heard the door slam shut, and you and George let out a breath the both of you had been holding. 
“Tea and biscuits?” George said teasingly, smiling wide at you.
“A man has the right to certain pleasures,” you said, smiling back at him.
“That, he does,” George leaned into you, still smiling, and kissed you.
It was slow and gentle, like he had been all night, and you melted into him. His lips moved against yours like honey, molding together like time was in slow-motion. He pulled away slowly, keeping his eyes closed.
“Reckon we can sneak back to our common rooms?” you asked, feeling relieved that you weren’t caught yet on your little excursion.
“I actually had different plans,” George said, pulling open the curtain and stretching his legs out as he stood.
“What might those be?” you stayed sitting, watching as he gathered all the pillows and blankets.
“I thought we could stay the night here,” he said, smirking, “I mean, when do we get this kind of privacy in our dorms?”
You laughed a bit as you thought back to the last time you tried to spend the night in George’s dorm. Fred had opened George’s curtain in the middle of George taking your shirt off, ending in awkward silence for the rest of the night. 
You didn’t usually go along with the twins’ crazy and reckless plans, avoiding the late night trips to the kitchens after curfew, and the unapproved raidings of Snape’s ingredient cupboard. This time, however, you couldn’t help but want to go along with George as he looked down at you with soft and loving eyes. 
“Suddenly finding the library enjoyable, are you?” you teased him.
“Only at night, when it’s far too dark to read any of the books, and everyone’s gone away,” he joked, holding the curtain open for you as you grabbed the candle, book, and his wand.
“I see,” you sighed, turning to face George and stepping out of the nook, “alright, let’s stay.”
You watched George’s smirk turn into an excited grin as he spun away from you, going back towards your spot in the back of the library. 
You followed him, giggling at your boyfriends excitement as he jogged ahead of you. He was eager to lay the blankets down, fluff the pillows, and light the candle, eager to have a moment alone with you. 
When you turned down the isle, George had somehow already done all of that, even though he was only seconds before you. He stood on top of a blanket, the candle lit and sitting in the bookshelf it was before, pillows fluffed, and blankets spread. He had a cocky grin on his face, one of his feet propped up against the shelf behind him as his arms crossed over his chest.
“Eager?” you teased, feeling a familiar pit of nerves form in your heart. You had been with George dozens of times, but nothing could stop that pit of nerves from forming just by the look he gave you. 
“Always,” he said, his smirk turning into an authentic smile as his eyes filled with excitement. 
You walked over to him, stepping carefully on the blankets and scattered pillows. George uncrossed his arms and spread them to you, grabbing your hands as soon as you were close enough and pulling you into him. He dropped his leg, allowing for there to be as little space between you both as possible. His hands stayed clutched in yours, but he moved them to rest on your lower back, pinning your hands beneath his. He pulled you close to him, his hips and chest flush against yours. 
“You seem a bit desperate tonight, darling,” you teased, craning your neck away from him to look at his face.
“I think you’re the most amazing girl in the world,” he said sweetly, moving his face closer to yours as he spoke, “I could spend hours talking with you, but right now, I’d love it if you shut up.”
You scoffed in mock offence, a laugh bubbling in your chest that pressed into George’s. While you were still smiling, George closed the distance between your faces and pressed his lips against yours.
(*)
He waited until your smile faded, keeping his lips unmoving against yours, until he finally did move. He was slow, and you pressed your face against his in an attempt to gain some pressure. He pulled away, a loving look in his eyes as he tilted his head. He placed open-mouth kisses on your cheek, moving over your nose, forehead, chin, and jaw. You couldn’t help but contently sigh at each kiss, something that made George feel butterflies in his stomach. His hands on your back pushed against yours, uncurling the fists they were in to lay flat against your back. His large hands covered yours entirely, his palms pressing against the backs of your hands. His fingertips pressed into your back, and he slipped his hands off of yours. You forgot you could move them for a moment, but once you did they crept up his body and rested on either side of his neck. One of his hands slid up your back, bunching up your sweater as he did, and landed on the nape of your neck. The soft material of your sweater fell once he released it, and it tickled your sensitive skin. His other hand moved back and forth from your lower back to your hip, and it seemed like he couldn’t decide where to keep it.
His mouth was attached to your neck, and he couldn’t focus on anything else. He didn’t care about the growing bulge in his pants, all he wanted was his lips on the soft skin beneath your ear. 
His mouth opened wider, exposing his teeth, and he scraped them against the delicate skin. You arched your back in reflex, pushing yourself impossibly closer to him. One of your hands drifted to his hair, pulling at random bits whenever George bit your neck again. 
The only sound in the quiet and abandoned room were you and George; you sighed and whined as George left his marks on your neck, and George groaned and moaned every time he heard you.
George lifted his head, pulling back to admire his work. In the dim light, he could see an array of purple and red marks already forming on your skin, and the sight alone made his face flush. He ducked down one last time, blowing against the newly-marked spots. You opened your mouth and let out a silent gasp, chest heaving at George’s movements. 
His hands moved to cradle your face as he turned his attention away from your neck. He looked into your eyes, seeing the lust clouding over your features for only a second before you pulled him in by the back of his neck. You controlled this kiss, still moving gently but with more force. Your nose pressed into his cheek, and his teeth accidentally grazed your lips occasionally, but you didn’t care. You were lost in George’s touch, not seeming to mind any of the awkward fumbles. 
George’s calloused hands stayed firmly on your face, his thumbs moving up to your cheekbones as he stroked them lovingly. You scratched his scalp, running your hands through his hair and down his neck. You were feeling a sense of impatience as you felt yourself become more aroused by what George was doing. Your hands crept down his back, feeling his muscles beneath the material of his old and worn pajama shirt. Your hands made it to his waistband, and you felt him take a sharp breath at the feeling. You lifted his shirt up, slowly moving up his chest as the shirt bunched. You pulled away from him, opening your eyes and looking at George’s bare chest. He lifted his arms, helping you pull off his shirt. You balled it up in your fists and tossed it behind you, hearing it hit the floor lamely on the pile of pillows. 
His chest was warm against your cold fingers, and he felt like you were shooting sparks into everywhere you touched him. He watched your hands move across his chest, biting his bottom lip as you bent your fingers to scratch down his abs. He hissed in enjoyment, swallowing as he met your eyes. 
“It’s only fair,” you whispered seductively, licking your lips as you ran your nails down his chest again.
“What?” he rasped out, hissing again and tilting his head back to lean against the shelf.
“You marked me up,” you lifted your hands from his chest, resting one on the back of his neck to pull his head down to look at you, “I mark you up.”
George swallowed, feeling himself get harder at your words. His eyes flickered to your neck, bringing his hand to lightly trace over his work. You nearly flinched, but stopped yourself. You looked down at George’s chest, already seeing five red streaks down each side of George’s toned chest. You leaned in, licking your lips and placing wet and loving kisses on the marks. George’s hands went to rest in your hair, balling it up off of your face so he could watch you. You looked up at him, and he opened his mouth in some sort of silent moan. 
You stood to your full height, wrapping your arms around George’s neck and kissing him again. Both of his hands were on your hips, his fingers creeping beneath your shirt as his thumbs pressed into your skin.
He pushed himself off the shelf, and you moved in synch; one of his legs moved forwards, slipping between your legs, and you took a step backwards. You walked a few paces, standing in the center of the isle. He was still kissing you the same way he had been all night, slow, gentle, loving. 
He pulled away, eyes fluttering open as he looked down at your swollen lips. One of his arms moved between you and he cupped your chin. His thumb traced over your bottom lip, pressing into it and watching it. He was entranced by everything about you. He pulled your lip down, opening your mouth, and released your lip, watching as it bounced back. Your mouth hung open, and you looked at him through your eyelashes. He made a humming noise, raising his eyebrows and breathing deeply. 
You began to smirk, but a surprised shriek swallowed the facial expression when George was suddenly collapsing onto the pillows and pulling you down with him. He laid on his back, and you sat on your knees between his legs. His head was propped up by a pillow, his eyes raking over you as you leaned to hover on top of him. You inched forwards, opening your legs and moving so you straddled him. You sat, hovering really, above his abdomen, hands flat against his chest. George’s hands wrapped around your wrists, pulling them out from under you so you fell into him. You giggled, feeling your chest flush against his. It seemed that George was thinking the same thing as you; his hands slid down the sides of your body, slipping beneath your sweater. His hands were warm and rough, gently touching everything he could. When he was done roaming, he began to pull it off of you. You helped him, tossing it to land near his discarded shirt.
You leaned back, sitting down on his stomach as your hands slid back to rest on the tops of his thighs. You arched your back, stretching out and giving George full view of your still covered chest.
“Holy-” you heard him mumbled, feeling his hands creep onto your thighs.
He felt across your legs, sliding his hands down to your ass. His slender fingers kneaded it, and you sat straight again to look at him. His hands left your ass in a second, and he sat up on his elbows. You watched him slowly lick his lips, his eyes dancing around your chest. You reached behind you, unclasping the garment with ease. George’s eyes followed the lacey thing as it fell off your body, and you once again tossed it in the direction of your other clothes. 
George’s hands were on you with no hesitation, caressing and kneading your breasts. He sat up, sliding you down to land on his hips. He ducked his head down, connecting his lips to your chest. He felt the need to mark you, any way he could, to feel your skin on his lips and make you writhe with his mouth. 
His open mouth slid across your front, his tongue and teeth pushing into your skin with ease. George knew your body, he knew everything about you. There was nothing he loved more than feeling his skin against yours. 
His mouth worked on your chest, his hands pressing into your hips. He raked his teeth over the top of your breasts, and the sensation made your hips roll. George groaned into your chest, his body twitching at the unexpected sensation. You kept moving your hips against his, rocking back and forth in rhythm with your gasps. George was gripping onto your hips with such force that his fingers dug into your skin and he felt your bone, but he wasn’t even thinking about that. His thoughts were clouded by your breasts pressed against his face and the feeling of your crotch against his. He wanted to slow down; worship you more before he became undone.
With great struggle, he pulled himself away from your chest and stopped your hips with his grip. You whined at the lack of friction, pushing against his hands to continue the movement. You didn’t have much of a chance, though, as George was flipping you onto your back. He moved his hands from your hips up to the back of your head, cradling it in his hand and resting it delicately onto the pillow. He soothed down your hair, admiring it as it spread out across the pillow beneath you. 
You loved that about these exchanged with George. He was gentle; always treating you as if you were a delicate porcelain thing that could break with too much force. George always seemed to know what you wanted, he could read your face and movements like they were his own. He knew you wanted him, but he also knew you wanted to know exactly how much he wanted you.
His hands moved from the back of your head, pushing the hair from your face. They slid down the sides of your face, tracing your jawline and creeping down the sides of your neck. 
“You’re-” he paused, meeting your eyes and trying to think of any word worthy of describing you, “you’re ethereal.”
You swallowed hard at his words, chest heaving with a deep breath. You lifted your hands to cup his face, and he closed his eyes at the feeling of your soft hands on his cheeks. 
His hands moved still, moving from your neck to your collar bones, to your shoulders and down your arms, to your wrists and over your hands, to your breasts and down your sides, palms flat against your stomach, moving over to your hips where they grazed the sides of your ass. He moved south more, gripping the backs of your thighs as he put himself between your legs. You lifted your legs, feet flat against the floor. George’s hands ran down your ankles, slipping off your shoes. He did the same, kicking them off in a rush with his feet. He bent down, his hands firmly placed on the floor at either side of your head, and kissed you. 
He started with small and chaste kisses, lifting his head every time to look at you. Your eyes closed, face relaxed, lips still pushed out waiting for him to kiss them again. He hummed against you, the vibrations adding a different sensation against your lips. You opened your mouth, and George waisted no time slipping his tongue past your lips and into your mouth. His tongue was slipping in and out of your mouth, tracing over your lips and anywhere he could with a slow and sensual determination. 
Your hands moved from his cheeks to his hair, one staying to tug on the fiery locks while the other moved to his strong shoulder. You felt the muscles strain as he held himself up, flexing and tensing under your touch. You ran your fingertips down his back, landing on his hip and slipping your pinky finger into the elastic waistband of his plaid pajama pants. He groaned into your mouth, pressing his face further into yours. You hummed, taking this as encouragement. Your other fingers followed your pinky finger, falling under the waistband and moving to his front. You stayed above his boxers, immediately feeling the stretch of the thin material from his erection. He groaned again, thrusting his hips into your hand. 
You pulled your face away from his, watching his eyes stay closed as his brow furrowed. You slid your hand over him, moving slowly as his head ducked into your neck. You felt his nose pressing into the sensitive and marked skin, causing you to roll your head back in some sort of pained pleasure. George becoming so hard for you so soon made you become even wetter, and you clenched in an attempt to gain some sort of relief. George still had your legs spread and pinned beneath him, so you couldn’t rub your thighs together. 
You were still rubbing him, his soft groans and whines filling your ears as he moved his hips slowly against you. You pulled your hand from his pants, sliding it up his chest and over your scratch marks. His face contorted from the same pained pleasure you had been feeling, he lifted his head from your neck. You saw a thin layer of sweat on his forehead, and realized how pent up this week must have made him.
“You alright, George?” you asked him, pushing his hair off his forehead and looking into his eyes.
“Yeah,” he nodded fervently, licking his lips and breathing heavily, “I just really need you.”
He paused, the both of you staring at each other before he spoke again, “Is that alright?”
“Of course it is,” you gasped with no hesitation, pulling his face to yours again and kissing him hungrily.
His words had made you writhe, your back arched as you pressed yourself against him. It was George’s turn for roaming hands, and he waisted no time. Without missing a beat in the rhythm you had created in your kiss, his hands slid down to your shorts. His thumbs hooked into the sides, sliding them, and your underwear, off with ease. You lifted your hips slightly to help him, only to press yourself against him. He groaned and thrusted into you without thinking, causing you to break from the kiss and roll your head back.
“Really? All that for one touch?” he teased, moving back to sit on his feet as he pulled your shorts completely off your legs.
“You were losing your mind over a handy just a second ago, darling,” you retorted, propping yourself up on your elbows as George moved to hover over you again. 
He breathed a dry chuckle, shaking his head as he gave you a quick kiss on the lips. He dipped his head down, tracing over the marks he had already made all over your chest with light and gentle kisses. Your hands went to his hair as he kissed down your stomach, reaching his final destination eagerly. His hands gripped the back of your thighs, lifting them off the floor by an inch. He licked down your folds, blowing teasingly on your clit.
“George!” you gasped, arching your back at the intoxicating sensation.
“Does that feel good?” he asked earnestly, having never done that move before.
“Bloody hell,” you groaned, fingers curling into his hair, “yes.”
He smirked, tilting his head down and placing a kiss to your clit. He blew again, this time for a few seconds longer, and you felt like there were stars behind your eyes.
“Fuck!” you called out, voice raspy and struggling to stay quiet.
“Well,” he said, pulling away and reaching over your body to the right of you, “I hadn’t realized staying quiet would be such a struggle for us tonight.”
You rolled your eyes, blushing slightly. You watched George lazily wave his wand in the direction of the door, casting ‘muffliato’.
“Just wait ‘till it’s your turn, Georgie,” you teased back, watching his jaw tense with lust as he crept down to his position between your legs.
He went back to work, his tongue swiping up and down your core and occasionally sucking and licking your clit. You were coming undone, shifting and twitching beneath him. He had to force your legs apart to keep you from crushing his head, his grip so tight that you hoped his fingerprints would be on your thighs by the morning. 
He pulled away, blowing on last time on your clit with a smirk as you tugged at his hair. 
“Careful, Y/n, you might rip some out,” his voice was raspy and his lips were wet with your juices. He put a hand over your hand in his hair, moving his fingertips delicately across your hand.
“You’d be so lucky,” you groaned, pulling him up to your lips by his hair, ignoring his warnings. 
He groaned at the feeling, coming in contact with your lips eagerly. You tasted yourself on him, licking at his lips as he smirked into the kiss. You pulled away, releasing your grip on his hair.
“You want a go?” you asked, moving your hand down to his erection again.
“No, I won’t last,” he groaned, catching your wrist in his hand.
You stayed in that position for a moment, feeling incredibly turned on by his firm grip on you. You blushed at the intensity, biting your swollen lip and nodding.
“Okay,” you whispered, and George released your hand.
You pressed your palm flat against his lower abdomen, and he lowered his head for a slow and gentle kiss. It was quick, and soon he was pulling away and tilting his head down to look at your bodies flushed together. 
“Ready?” he asked, looking up to meet your eyes.
You nodded instantly and moved your hand on his abdomen to pull down his pants and boxers. He helped you, doing most of the work and kicking them off in a bunch at your feet. His erection sprang free, hitting your core because of how close your hips were. 
You and George both moaned at the contact, and George’s hands were quick to work as he positioned himself between your folds. He looked you in the eyes before entering, asking silently for consent. You nodded, wrapping your hand around his neck and pulling him to your lips. He pushed his hips flush against yours, and you both let out guttural and lustful moans into each other’s mouths. 
His pace was slow, and you wrapped your legs around his hips so he could drive further into your core. Your ankles locked and your hips lifted off the ground. One of George’s hands supported his weight by your head and the other wrapped around your waist. 
“Oh my god, George,” you moaned, pulling away from the kiss and shoving your face into the crook of his neck.
“You’re so good,” George breathed out, his fingers tightening around your waist.
“George, George, George,” you chanted in moans, knowing he liked it when you said his name.
With each moan of his name he thrusted harder into you, filing you up and bringing tears to your eyes from the wanted pressure.
“C’mon,” he said, gently placing you down and unwrapping his arm from your waist. He brought his now free hand down to your clit, rubbing his middle finger on it, “cum for me, Y/n.”
You wrapped your legs tighter around him, barely giving him any space to pull out and thrust back into you. Your arms around his neck tightened, too, and George bit his lip as your walls clenched around him.
“You’re so close,” he moaned into your ear, sending shivers down your spine.
He added his ring finger to the pressure on your clit, and you felt your orgasm wash over you. Your chest heaved, face contorting in George’s favorite way. He watched you moan and furrow your brow, loving the face you made when you came. Your legs fell from around George, your arms becoming limp as they rested across his back. George came right after you, pulling out and finishing onto your stomach. You watched him, feeling the hot liquid spread across your skin. He moaned, fighting the urge to collapse onto you. He gathered his wand, conjuring a towel to clean you up with. 
Once he was done, he tossed it aside lazily and fell onto you like he had wanted. He curled into your side, wrapping his arm around your stomach. 
“We’re really good at that, aren’t we?” he said happily, looking up at you from his place in the crook of your neck.
“I sure as hell am,” you joked, diving your hands into his hair, “you’re alright.”
“Alright?” he asked, sitting up and resting on his forearms, eyebrows raised.
“Mmm,” you pretended to think about his, pulling him back down by the back of his neck, “I suppose your really good, too.”
“I am really good,” he pretended to pout, sitting up and gathering his boxers and your underwear and handing them to you.
You watched him slip his boxers on, and you pulled your panties on. You laid back down, pulling a blanket over your body. George slid under the blanket with you, the bare skin of his chest pressing against yours.
“When do you suppose we sneak back to our common rooms?” you asked, tracing feather-light touches on his arm.
“Soon, if we have to,” he groaned, pulling you tighter to him.
“I just don’t want some first year coming back here and finding us tomorrow morning,” George chuckled at the thought, nuzzling his face into your side.
“You’re right,” he said, “I’d much rather Madam Pince find us.”
You giggled, feeling your eyes get heavy as George’s soft snores began to fill the small space.
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