#but i need a love potion type fic with these two SO BAD | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

shadowtriovibes · 1 year

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can you write one where f!MC is being pursued by an annoying guy she doesn’t like who won’t take no for an answer. it annoys sebastian just as much as it annoys her, so next time it happens he pretends to be her boyfriend and suggests they start fake dating for good measure. eventually they make it for real.

thank you! i love the fake relationship trope sooo much and i’ve yet to see anyone write one with sebastian.

of course, lovely anon!! i haven't seen any fake relationship fic either so i'm happy to contribute a lil something! tbh i sincerely thought this would be a short ficlet but it ended up being just over 2.5k fluffy words of dummies in love 🤩

Title: rumor has it

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

Summary: Eric Northcott is relentlessly pursuing you, so Sebastian offers to act as your heroic boyfriend to get him off your back.

"Northcott," Sebastian greets him, leaning against your potions station and resting a hand possessively on the small of your back. "Is there something my girlfriend can help you with?" "Your girlfriend?" Eric asks skeptically. "That's new." "I suppose it is," Sebastian agrees, nonplussed. "Been a long time coming, though." Across the room, Ominis laughs under his breath.

Sebastian Sallow is an excellent young wizard. Clever, well-read, focused – by all accounts, he should be a brilliant strategist.

But sometimes he comes up with the worst ideas you’ve ever heard.

“You musn’t be serious, Sebastian,” you laugh, closing your potions textbook to appreciate the actual madness of what he’d just suggested.

“Why not?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

You roll your eyes as you tell him, “You can’t just pretend to be my boyfriend.”

Earlier that afternoon, the two of you had met up with Ominis in the Undercroft to study after staging a quick exit from the library. While Sebastian was hunting down a book on ancient runes, Eric Northcott had cornered you in the stacks and tried for the second time to convince you to have a Butterbeer with him at the Three Broomsticks instead of “hiding that gorgeous face behind those dusty books like you always do.”

When Sebastian had returned, you were shoving the Gryffindor boy away from you with a tense look on your face, and if he hadn’t just finished a stint of evening detentions for slipping a Puffskein into Duncan Hobhouse’s schoolbag, he would have hexed the amorous git himself.

Since then, he’d been suggesting ways to make him pay, with each idea more fantastical than the last.

“Sure I can, and we can even make a real show of it,” he says with a charming grin. “If you want to get Northcott off your back for good, let’s allow him to think your handsome, roguish boyfriend is the type who would challenge him to a duel if he tries anything untoward.”

“That is a terrible plan,” you deadpan.

“It’s actually not a bad idea,” Ominis chimes in.

You glare at him, because Ominis never thinks that Sebastian’s ideas are any good – even the ones that aren’t completely bonkers.

“What are you playing at, Gaunt?” you accuse him.

“I’m merely suggesting that Northcott may actually accept your contempt for him if it’s for a reason that allows him to save face,” he explains with a secretive smile. “Simply telling him that you’re not interested hasn’t seemed to work thus far, so why not be creative?”

“Creative?” you snort. “Wouldn’t ‘creative’ be blasting him myself the next time he lays a hand on me?”

“As if you need any worse of a reputation,” Ominis drawls, and he has a point.

“Come on, let’s really mess with him,” Sebastian pleads. “You know he deserves to be taken down a peg or two.”

You’re not surprised that Sebastian is able to get you on board so quickly. Truthfully, you think you’d follow him on his harebrained schemes just about anywhere.

“Fine,” you cautiously agree. “But just to scare him off, alright?”

You swear you can see the gears in Sebastian’s head start to turn immediately.

He kicks off his brilliant plan the next day during your N.E.W.T.-level potions class. You’re supposed to be brewing an antidote to Veritaserum, and while the draught itself isn’t necessarily difficult, some of the ingredients are a little tricky to prepare.

You’re focused on trying to carefully slit open some Sopophorous beans when you felt a presence behind you, and then Eric Northcott is draping his arm across your shoulders.

“Need a hand with those?” he offers, trying to sound congenial.

“I’m fine, Eric,” you insist.

“I’m really quite good at potions, you know,” he reminds you, grabbing one of the paring knives off the table and haphazardly slicing one of the beans you’d laid out. “I’d be happy to give you some hands-on lessons if you’d like, one-on-one of course.”

“Sebastian,” Ominis hisses from across the room, having picked up on the conversation while the other boy poured over his notes on wormwood. “Now might be a good time to offer some gentlemanly assistance.”

His eyes narrow when he spots Northcott leaning over your cauldron, clearly trying to sneak a look down your top.

“Don’t let my antidote burn,” Sebastian mumbles as he storms across the room, as if Ominis would ever spare a thought for Sebastian’s cauldron when the show is about to begin.

You bite the inside of your cheek as you watch him notice your predicament, silently pleading him with your eyes to do something to get you out of it.

“Northcott,” Sebastian greets him, leaning against your potions station and resting a hand possessively on the small of your back. “Is there something my girlfriend can help you with?”

“Your girlfriend?” Eric asks skeptically. “That’s new.”

“I suppose it is,” Sebastian agrees, nonplussed. “Been a long time coming, though.”

Across the room, Ominous laughs under his breath.

“Really?” Eric asks dubiously, briefly glancing at your expression. “I was under the impression that the two of you were just ‘best friends.’”

“Well, shouldn’t a good relationship start out as a friendship?” you counter, though you don’t sound entirely convincing.

“Right,” he says slowly.

“Mate, you know how tough she is,” Sebastian says with a charming grin. “Took me ages to convince her to give me a chance, she strung me right along for months.”

You jump slightly when Sebastian slides his hand across your back to your waist, tugging you closer to his side – and out from under Eric’s arm.

“But she finally took pity on me,” he says with a lovelorn sigh, and you narrow your eyes at his dramatics.

“Oh, Sebastian,” you reply, laughing nervously. “You’re hopeless.”

“Hopelessly in love with you,” he says, quickly leaning in to kiss the corner of your mouth.

Before you can react, Professor Sharp wanders by and instructs you all to stop your dallying and focus on your draughts. Eric spares one more skeptical look at the two of you before returning to his cauldron.

Sebastian’s hand on your waist lingers for a moment even after he’s gone, but then he lets it fall.

“Sorry about that,” he says under his breath. “Had to sell it, you’re really a bad liar, you know.”

You think Sebastian doesn’t know the half of it.

(Sebastian’s just glad you avoided his gaze long enough to miss his deep red blush.)

—

As it turns out, the kiss wasn’t enough to convince Northcott that you were properly off the market.

The rumor mill quickly focuses on you and Sebastian – specifically whether or not it’s true that your platonic friendship has become something more.

“I don’t really believe it,” Nerida claims whenever the subject comes up. “Sebastian has always seemed like the bachelor type.”

“He could have had a girlfriend all this time and never has,” Violet agrees, trying to hide her bitterness. “I don’t think he really wants to be in a relationship.”

“Are you joking?” Imelda scoffs. “Sallow’s been a lovesick puppy over that girl for years, I’m just glad she finally came around.”

“She is very protective of him,” Grace speculates. “I remember when Samantha Dale asked him out last fall, I thought she was going to Depulso the poor girl clear across the courtyard!”

You do your best to ignore it, but Ominis stubbornly insists on telling you everything he’s heard.

“I would have thought that the two of you would be better at pulling off a ruse as simple as this,” he says, disappointment dripping from his words. “How hard can it be to pretend to like Sebastian? I don’t have to see him to know that the whole school thinks he’s handsome.”

“You don’t understand,” you sigh, walking alongside him on the way to arithmancy. “It’s… I don’t have to pretend, if you know what I mean.”

“Come now,” he says quietly. “I’m blind, not dim.”

“Then you do understand!” you whine. “How am I supposed to just let him pretend to be my boyfriend to ward off Eric and not go mad from knowing that it’s all a lie?”

“I suppose me telling you to be honest with him about how you feel would go in one ear and right out the other,” Ominis suggests, smirking to himself when you curse at him under your breath.

“Buck up, then,” he says simply. “I’m sure this whole thing will blow up in some spectacular way sooner than later – it is Sebastian, after all.”

—

As per usual, Ominis is correct.

Not even a full day goes by before Sebastian corners you outside the Hufflepuff common room and asks to walk you to dinner, taking your hand in his as soon as he notices some fifth-years studiously watching the two of you as you make your way to the Great Hall.

“I missed you this afternoon,” he tells you as he walks you upstairs, putting on a good show. “How come you didn’t want to study with Ominis and me after class?”

“I just needed to lie down for a little while,” you tell him, not wanting to admit to avoiding the way he’s been so unbearably charming lately.

“Feeling alright?” he asks concernedly.

“Yes,” you tell him. “Just… I don’t know. Out of sorts, I guess.”

“Anything I can do to help?” he asks.

You get distracted by the feeling of him stroking his thumb along your wristbone reassuringly.

“Um… n-no, I don’t think so,” you stutter.

“Surely there’s something I can do to help,” he says, and you wonder if you’re imagining the way his eyes look a little darker than usual, as if his pupils have entirely taken over.

“Like what?” you breathe.

Then he gets that look on his face that he always gets when he’s about to do something stupid.

“Come with me,” he says, tugging you over to a spot along the wall in the reception hall, next to one of those empty cabinets you’d looted for Nellie Oggspire back in your fifth year.

“Sebastian, w-what–” you stammer.

He presses you against the wall, one hand pressed to your waist and the other flat against the stone behind you, boxing you in. He glances around again and clearly spots whatever it was he was looking for, grinning mischievously before he leans in and traces his nose across your cheek.

“Don’t hex me for this,” he murmurs against your lips, and then he’s kissing you.

You melt against the cool stone wall, tipping your head back so Sebastian can tilt his head against yours and completely overtake your senses with his demanding kisses. Without consciously deciding to, you wrap your arms around his shoulders to hold him close to you, desperate to ensure he stays right where he is.

He kisses you well, you think. You know he’s always been a huge flirt, and that he has taken some girls in your year on dates to Hogsmeade over the years, but you’ve desperately avoided any post-date conversations with him because you did not want to know what he and those girls had gotten up to afterward.

Now you know, you think bitterly, but just as quickly you realize you don’t actually care. He’s skilled at this – nipping at your bottom lip to get you to open up for him, sliding his hand between your robes and your dress shirt so he can feel the curve of your waist, nudging a knee between your thighs to pin you even further to the wall.

“Bastian,” you murmur, tangling your fingers in his hair.

He groans against your mouth like he can’t help himself, and you whine a touch too loudly when he grinds his hips against yours.

Then you hear Eric’s voice call out, “Sallow!”

Sebastian looks like sin when he pulls away from you, and not just because his hair is a little mussed from your helpless tugging and his lips are red and swollen.

It’s because he’s smirking, and you quickly realize he’d planned this entire thing.

He’d pulled you to a spot where the Gryffindors on their way to dinner could easily see you being ravished, and it’s not just Eric he’s caught up in it – it’s Leander and Cressida too, some of the worst gossips in the entire castle.

…You are absolutely going to hex him for this, you think.

“Northcott,” Sebastian drawls as he turns around. “Can I help you?”

Eric looks furious, but at least he doesn’t look skeptical anymore.

“You might want to consider someplace a bit more private,” he offers, seething. “I am a prefect, after all. Could send you to detention for being so lewd in public.”

“Fair point,” Sebastian says easily. “In fact, maybe you ought to send us both. Hardly anywhere’s as private as the dungeons.”

You quickly smack Sebastian in the chest with the back of your hand, wordlessly begging him to stop before you actually do have to report to detention.

Mercifully, Eric simply throws a few choice words at Sebastian and stomps off to the Great Hall, Leander and Cressida on his heels to undoubtedly tell the entire school what just happened.

“You’re evil,” you hiss, still catching your breath. “You arranged all that just to embarrass Eric? To embarrass me like that?”

He frowns, confused. “No I didn’t, and I would never embarrass you.”

“You did!” you whine, shoving at his shoulders so he’ll step back. “They’re going to tell everyone and it’s going to make me sound like – like some pathetic girl who’s so desperate to avoid Eric’s attention that she’ll let her best friend feel her up in a busy hallway.”

“That’s not what they’ll think,” Sebastian argues. “And if anyone’s pathetic, love, it’s me.”

You scoff and wrap your arms around yourself, ashamed at how badly you wish you were still wrapped up in his arms instead despite everything you’re saying.

“You think I’m lying?” he asks derisively. “I’m a fool for you, and I would never hurt you. I kissed you like that because I wanted to, and if it happened to embarrass Northcott in the process, that’s even better.”

“Y-you wanted to?” you ask softly.

“I’ve wanted to for so long,” he finally admits.

His hands twitch at his sides like he wants to reach out for you, but he forces himself to behave.

“It’s the reason I came up with this stupid plan in the first place,” he sighs. “So that if anyone at this damn school gets to have the pleasure of walking you to class, or taking you to the Three Broomsticks or – or even kissing you senseless somewhere everyone could see, it would be me.”

You don’t have any words. But even if you did, there’s nothing you’d want to say to him that you couldn’t communicate by tugging him in by his collar and kissing him like you can’t think straight without his touch, so you do just that.

When you both break away to breathe, Sebastian quickly asks, “Are you actually hungry?”

“Not anymore,” you admit, your gaze still on his lips.

Sebastian barely manages to utter the words “Undercroft” and “hurry” in between kisses, but while he determinedly works a claiming bruise into the side of your neck, you whine, “Your common room’s closer.”

—

Once Ominis overhears Cressida waxing poetic about Sebastian Sallow practically mounting his new girlfriend in the hallway by the Grand Staircase, he doesn’t wonder why the two of you never show up for dinner.

#sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian x mc #sebastian x reader #sebastian sallow #ominis gaunt #eric northcott #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fic #my fic #i LOVE omniscient meddlesome ominis if you can't tell #also i swear the next thing i write is going to be pure filth bc i've been doing cute for several days in a row #unbeta'd we die like men

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chweverni · 5 months

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HOW I THINK _ bonedo 'n their love languages ! (pt.2)

pairing; ot6!bonedo x fem!reader synopsis; how would your adorable boyfriend(s) express their love for you? word count; 614 author's note; pt.2 is here!! wooo what are yall's thoughts on a taesan fic involving love potions? i got the idea a while back but idk if the commitment is there lmfaoo

read pt.1 here !

KIM DONG HYUN - physical touch/gift giving & receiving !

ESFJs are.. interesting. when they're in love, every little thing their partners do, affect the way they judge their relationship. here, leehan would definitely be the one who's into physical affection a lot. for him, a day without your hugs and kisses, or cuddles right after waking up, is enough for him to jump into conclusions that maybe your day was bad, or that you had a nightmare. he'd do everything, in his favors to make your day better. leaving you in bed, with a forehead kiss, and going out of his way to bring you breakfast in bed is something i definitely think he'll do a lot! the type to be totally into pda because he desperately needs people to know that he has the most prettiest, cutest, sexiest, smartest and loving girlfriend on this entire planet!

think of gifts such as flowers, hand-made cards, CDs or cassettes, rings, things he made in art classes such as little pots, drawings, tickets to concerts or amusement parks, because he loves to spoil his babe a lot and would swim across oceans just to get you the things you like. and this would totally go both ways, too. you would exchange gifts whenever there's a special day you both would like to cherish together.

he'll probably get you hot water bags, chocolates, snacks and warm blankets when you're on your period and would check up on you frequently to make sure you're doing fine. he would give back rubs whenever you're having cramps, while you sleep helplessly on your bed.

"i made you this during pottery classes.. see the flowers here? they're real! i glazed them afterwards.", he'll say proudly, with his adorable eye smile.

you'd kiss him immediately right there and then, which he would return in a heartbeat.

KIM WOONHAK - quality time/physical affection !

another ENFP, who has an unhealthy obsession of being with and around you 24/7 because he just loves you a lot, he can't help it okay? for him, one second without you feels like eternity. you two spend every second together, being literally attached at the hip. the type to send you messages like, "i wish you lived next to me, so that whenever i wake up, i could just stick some notes in my window, wishing you good morning, hoping you'd see them.", knowing that you'd have to literally run out of your house to reach school on time if that happened. he's the one who yaps a lot in the relationship, while all you can do is either listen with full interest, or feed into his interests by asking him more. and if you do both, he'll probably be planning a future with you, far away from the main lands, because he wants you to himself.

the type to give you surprise hugs whenever you're fully focused on something, like reading a book, to see you flinch. he'll probably be into the concept of cheek touching, as a form of greeting you. be prepared for random kisses on your cheek, nose, forehead, lips, hands and knuckles through out the day, because poor baby just cannot get enough! think of teddy bear hugs, and him resting his chin on your shoulder.

he's totally the type to fall asleep in the bus/train ride home after school, leaning to your body or shoulder, while one of your earbuds is still playing faint music, to help him sleep.

"can you come over, baby? pretty please? i promise this is the last time i'm asking you this! i miss you.", even though it probably will continue to happen every single day.

that's it! i hope i did them justice as usual <3

thanks for checking in on my blog, love you, bye!

all creds to chweverni only on tumblr !

#boynextdoor imagines #boynextdoor x reader #boynextdoor #leehan fluff #leehan imagines #leehan boynextdoor #leehan x reader #woonhak imagines #woonhak x reader #boynextdoor woonhak #woonhak fluff #these two <3333

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mngo-jii · 11 months

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Okay but I really need to fill the gap as to WHY Daniel was casually carrying Amortentia around during that erumpent event. I don't think he'd use it, but maybe it's because his smell just like MC? 👀

Perhaps the reader finally gives into their curiosity and asks over why Daniel had *that* potion, and he gets too flustered to even give an excuse? Btw I really loved your crushing hc, these were adorable! 💖

“ AMORTENTIA. ” d. page

wc: 1k

letter ✉️: i rlly was also wondering how i’d turn the amortentia scene into a fic without having him turn into a maniac and use it on reader 😭 ty for this idea 🙏🏻 idk if i did it justice though because this kinda sucks um *scratches head*

“Right. Let’s see. I’ve got... Amortentia, that’s a love potion, definitely not. Essence of Dittany, hm... Ah, here we go. A calming draught.”

You narrow your eyes at a peculiar potion he just mentioned. Yet the situation at hand is more important than the question as to why he has the most powerful love potion in existence. You digress.

Of course, it’s not hard to catch onto how Daniel is a potions prodigy. It’s particularly impossible to miss it. Given how much time he spends in the Potions Classroom brewing maybe nearly every potion in existence. Sometimes, you tend to question how he doesn’t get exhausted from the hours he spends in front of the cauldron. But you suppose it’s just a passion of his that differs from everyone else’s.

Like how Lottie, herself, can spend hours painting anything that comes to mind. A wave of creativity just happening to hit her at some random time, like how the light shines oh-so perfectly down into the classroom windows, or when she realizes how fascinating the flames look when she casts the confringo spell.

But there are times she exhausts herself too, like times she’s mentally drained from an art block she’s been desperately trying to escape.

You’re not sure if you’ve ever seen Daniel tired of creating potions. It’s quite impressive—no, farther than that, that you sometimes find yourself admiring how well he can work his way around the cauldron with little to no errors.

And because of how well he ferments potions and how much time he spends on doing so, it’s no surprise to find that he has quite the collection of distinctive potions. However, he always either gives them away, displays them on the Potions Classroom shelf, or keeps them somewhere in his dorm.

So why did he so casually carry Amortentia, of all potions, in his pocket?

Of course it isn’t as bad as the Death potion, but your point still stands!

After that day you couldn’t help but let your mind wander on the possibilities on why in the world he would have such a powerful potion easily-accessed. After all, he doesn’t seem like the type to use it on someone. Actually, does he even have a ‘someone’ to use it on, nevertheless?

Maybe it’s not your place to ask. But as time goes by, you can’t look at Daniel without being reminded that he literally has the most formidable love potion known to man in his pocket.

“...W-What are you looking at?” He asks you, aware of your unwavering, however thoughtful gaze.

“Daniel,” you lean towards him, taking note of the crimson hue spreading his cheeks, “Is there any reason for you to be carrying the Amortentia potion right now...?”

Daniel visibly panics. He stammers out an incoherent response that’s cut off by Professor Flitwick.

“Please pay close attention to the instructions. Today we will be learning a disarming charm known as Expelliarmus.”

The two of you gently shuffle back to place, turning your attention to the man standing atop a very thick book. You suppose he can answer you later.

Daniel scampers to collect his belongings the very second Professor Flitwick dismisses class, unbeknownst to you. He scoots towards the very edge of the table and races out the door, stumbling into the hallway for an escape as if he had just seen a dementor.

Very quickly, he scans his surroundings, paying no mind to his classmates who barely glance at him as they walk by. He decides to draw himself a little farther from the doorway and towards the stairways of the Defense Against Dark Arts classroom, where he presses his side against the wall.

Unluckily for him, you just so happened to be reaching to grab his hand right now, making him feverishly twirl around to face you.

“Daniel, I’ll keep it a secret, I promise !” you whisper-shout, bouncing a little in place.

“It’s nothing—” He backs away from you in an attempt to escape your clutches, but you only step forward.

“Then why run? Why are you sweating so much?” You furrow your eyebrows, clearly concerned for your friend who is, yes, sweating bullets now.

“It’s just—”

“Pleeease tell me, Daniel.”

“I—��

“Pleeease.” Now both of your hands are grabbing his. You muster up the best pair of puppy eyes you can do at the moment, and lean yourself towards him trying to get him to just tell you.

Daniel’s face, which is inches away from yours at this point, is basically red.

“It’s— I— For—..” Why is your face still leaning in?! Why are you so close?! Haven’t you heard of personal space? (He kind of doesn’t want you to back away.) He shuts his eyes.

Before he could process it, his mouth moves on his own, blurting out the reason of which was not on your list of possibilities at all.

It was like a survival instinct.

“It smells nice...! It smells like you—your-robe-that-you-lent-to-me-last-week.”

Daniel wishes the floor would swallow him up.

He barely opens his eyes when you slowly let go of his hands and back away, and he only snaps them open when he hears a familiar hysteric laughter from above and behind him.

He slowly turns around, as if he hadn't already known who it is.

“You cannot be serious!” Robyn wipes a comical tear from her eye as she dramatically leans over a stone wall, “Ahhh, you’re daft, Page!”

Daniel doesn’t bother to say anything as he somberly stares at her above the staircase. His arms falling limp and his entire body stiff.

“I can’t believe I witnessed this at such a perfect timing...!” She drunkenly makes her way down, clapping her hands slowly in such passionate amusement despite the silence between you and him. “I can’t—” She pitilessly snickers at Daniel.

She gracefully turns to the opposite side of where you two came from and slowly disappears into the halls, her voice fading out in the distance—“I can’t wait to tell everyone else about this!”

Daniel stares as her figure slowly shrinks in his vision, as if he were trying to make her explode with his mind despite the distracting and repetitive sounds of her claps and cackling.

However, he’s taken aback when he feels a familiar piece of clothing gently wrap around his shoulder. He looks over, noticing that you’re no longer wearing your robe.

“I’ll gladly keep lending you my robe if you want me to...”

a/n: this is short ohmyy im sorry 😞

#(*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟ— written by lnr #hpma x reader #hogwarts magic awakened x reader #daniel page x reader

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worldismyne · 1 year

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I Do (Chapter 4)

Summary: Finn’s mother is fed up with Harv’s family being seemingly immune to her attempts to curse their family. So, if magic alone can’t make them miserable, maybe her son can stir up enough chaos to ruin their happily ever after?

Anything to stop that peasant’s stupid wedding.

(AU Fic: Finn is 18, Harv is 19)

Pairing: Harv x Finn

Rating: T (Suggestive) [I thought I could handle M, but I can't sorry]

Series: Warrior U

AN: Thank you @bluepingpong for betaing ♡

Ao3 link

Finn was sitting in his lounge chair on the back patio of his gothic home, drinking from blue bottles like it was nobody's business. Because it was nobody's business that he may have drank a love potion by accident and it was nobody's business that the first antidote hadn't worked. It was definitely nobody's business that he was mixing elixirs and still feeling sorry for himself despite using multiple types of anti-love potions, amnesia spells, and alcohol. So he shouldn't feel the need to be outside hiding from his own nosey mother who'd want to know why he came up empty handed again. Not that she would punish him for failing or anything; she'd just want to find out what's wrong and fix it.

That was worse for some reason.

He had set a few plans in motion to fix this whole wedding situation. Not because he was desperate or anything, that would be ridiculous, laughable even. The quicker he took care of the situation, the happier everyone would be. It really was in everyone's best interest that Harv be single for the foreseeable future. Finn took another swing of the vile combination of potions.

Still nothing.

At least the garden looked nice this time of year.

"Why are you doing this?" That sounded like Harv's voice! Finn sat up and stared at the bottle in shock, maybe he shouldn't be experimenting when he was upset. "Over here?" Finn looked up and there was the warrior standing in his yard. Any joy Finn could have gained was swallowed by embarrassment when he remembered he was in his 'pity me' robe. How could he ever hope Harv to take him seriously when he saw him wearing this tatty old thing that was shapeless and swallowed him like a blanket? He looked up; mother would be able to see him from her window.

"Come closer."

"Oh no, I'm not falling for that again." Harv shook his head.

"Just like- two, maybe three steps; just get into the shadow of the building before somebody sees you!" Finn let out a sigh of relief after Harv begrudgingly took a few steps closer. "Now then," Finn relaxed a little, trying to maintain some scrap of decorum, "what was it you wanted to ask me about?"

"I have tried to be kind about this, but I've been clear. I'm going to marry Audrey." Finn flinched. "What you did went against my wishes and put yourself in danger. So, before things escalate any further, just tell me what you did exactly."

"...exactly?" Finn played with the cap on his bottle. "You wouldn't believe me, even if I told you."

"Try me."

"I'm a witch, sort of." Finn declared with as much pride as he could muster, considering he spent most of his life trying to be a bard.

"I know." Harv looked up at the pink plaster bricks, a monument to the obvious. "That's how I was able to find you. My whole family knows where you live. Including, oh I don't know, my ex-witch hunter dad." Was that what started this all? His whole life his mother had been desperate to make the little goat farm crumble under her feet, Finn hadn't given much thought to what the initial cause was. After all, this was the woman that cursed someone to have bad hair for putting pickles in her salad. He could tell Harv was frustrated. Quite frankly, he was a little frustrated with their circumstances too.

"You knew who I was?" At any point, Harv could have accused him of casting some kind of spell or exposed him to the town, but he didn't. He treated Finn like anyone else. "When did you figure it out?"

"I've known the whole time." Harv said. "You didn't even try to hide who you were." Finn set down his bottle and crossed his arms in defiance.

"I did too! I spent a lot of time crafting a disguise spell that would make me look like your ideal paramour, but it didn't- Oh." Harv already knew of him before they met. Maybe it had been in passing or through hearsay, but Harv was fully aware of Finn's existence. "It didn't need to change anything to suit your tastes." That's why the spell barely changed anything; Harv's type happened to include deviant witches if the flush to his cheeks was any confirmation. "You really don't mind?" He twirled the tie to his robe around his fingers in aimless patterns. "I've been trying to avoid using magic, but if it's something you'd prefer..." Harv turned an even deeper shade of red.

"For the last time, that's not the issue Finn." Harv sighed. "In the past if I had thought, for a second, that you would have had a sincere interest towards me; maybe it'd be a different story. But I've made a promise to Audrey and I plan to see it through. Now, what did you do?" Finn twisted the robe tie so tight his hands turned white. He looked down at his lap.

"I'm sure your brother's already told you about the bribe." Finn could feel Harv's irritation at him grow. "The tailor's guild, I gave them instructions to leave needles in the corset of the bridal gown to delay the procession. Any food served that's a brilliant red you should stay clear of; it could make you sick. There's also flash paper in the bouquet, it makes things catch on fire if it gets close to light. I may have also hinted to a few ladies in the, erm, red light district there'd be a huge gathering of people tomorrow." With each confession, Finn winced. There was no other word for it now, he was desperate, and it showed. All he could do is hope Harv didn't utterly despise him afterward. "If I can't ruin the wedding, Mother's going to try to kill your precious Audrey, so you're welcome." The wedding was in less than twenty-four hours, maybe enough time to undo all the little strings Finn pulled, but hopefully not. Hopefully Harv would see this was the lesser of two evils and just let it go.

"Anything else?" Harv's tone was cold as ice.

"Don't get married." Finn finally looked at him. The once kind warrior, now defensive in his stance, his arms crossed tight across his chest looking away with a steely scowl. Finn thought he didn't have a part of his heart left to break, but he felt it now. "Not because of me or mother; but for yourself. I've read about families that will annul a marriage if there isn't a child in time." Finn's voice was gentle, but still Harv bristled at his words. "And when I told Audrey about... us, she didn't mind in the slightest. She'll probably expect the same from you. If you're going to force yourself to get married out of convenience, it should at least be with someone who'll care for you."

"Audrey cares for people in her own way." That was the hollowest reasoning Finn had ever heard, but he was already on thin ice and he knew it. Still, he couldn't help himself.

"So do I." Harv turned away and left without another word.

-v-

Harv had been raised on cautionary tales his entire life. It had seemed his father wanted to prepare him for every possible trick in the book that any evil doer might try in an attempt to do harm to his sons. The heroes in those stories had always been steadfast in their virtues, strong enough to fight any battle and just as kind. His favorites had always been the stories where the hero was tempted to leave the quest. Regardless of how much the hero longed for a simpler life, or whatever alternative he was offered, he'd always see through the facade and make the right choice.

Though now, Harv wondered, if what drew him to these stories was the lack of blame shown to the victims in these scenarios. Yes, obviously praise was awarded to the hero who could pull through, but it was never their fault for getting swept away. How could they not when they were being offered everything they ever wanted.

Real life wasn't so cut and dry, even if his father seemed to think otherwise.

Five years prior, he had faced a similar test. Surrounded by a lavish lifestyle, in a role he wasn't suited for, told to wait until someone would come to his aid. Each time he almost woke up, he'd catch a glimpse of a blonde-haired figure between the rows of mirrors and found himself trying to catch their attention instead of escaping; it nearly killed him. If Audrey hadn't found his body when she did, he very well would have died. Even then, half mad from asphyxiation, his proposal was for some phantom from an illusion; not the woman bringing him back from the brink of death. He had failed the test in every way possible. All punctuated by the fact that Audrey, bless her heart, vowed to keep his secrets and did so without judgment.

It wasn't until he came home that night, battered and bruised, that his father told him the truth. Their family was constantly being targeted by the town witch; a cunning, vindictive, and relentless sorceress that would stop at nothing until her family was more powerful than the crown itself. They were almost mythic in nature, an albino woman who never seemed to age and her blonde siren-like child; they were people to be feared not enchanted by.

It didn't help, that as he got older, rumors would trickle down from the palace about young men getting ensnared by the witch's next of kin and his tricks. Not just any young men either. The kingdom's strongest knight was deceived by a series of lavender scented letters he thought had come from the princess. A world-renowned bard, found his new muse had warped all of his love songs into mourning covers of themselves with a bitter rejection. If memory served correctly, his mandolin was broken in front of the court along with his heart. Any young man who had everything to lose might find themselves the target of the illusive witch's son. Just as he had as a child, Harv found himself fascinated with these stories. How people could find themselves losing their way over the echo of a person, not even a single physical touch. It certainly made him feel less ashamed of his past errors.

Finn never put himself in a position that left him vulnerable during these little games of his. He'd pose as a lover reaching out from across the seas, or an opera singer, or any number of untouchable roles that kept him at an arm's distance. He played the part of a theoretical love, never close enough to share a dance with someone, let alone hold or kiss. All theatrics culminating in a climax of humiliation and chaos. Or so the stories would go. It was easy to say, in those scenarios, he wouldn't fall for the same trick twice.

Maybe that's why Finn had felt the need to approach him in person, to put them in a position where physical touch was inevitable. It wasn't because he was special, no, he was just wiser to their tricks then the average nobleman. He couldn't let himself destroy everything again just for the hope that this time, the figure behind the mirrors would turn around and look at him. Chasing after Finn almost killed him before; it didn't matter that the tables had turned, or that Finn never approached him as someone else, or that he hadn't lied to Harv once when asked a direct question. At the end of the day, no matter how much he yearned for Finn's attention to be genuine, it had to be a trick.

He dumped the last of the candied fruit into the trash, apples, he should have noticed earlier. His mother was still hard at work searching for needles in the bridal dress, ever the optimist, cheering each time they got another 'free' needle. If all these attempts at sabotage were real, the chances Audrey's life would be endangered should the ceremony take place seemed equally likely.

"Maybe we should delay the wedding." Harv said.

"And give her more time to prepare!? Absolutely not!" Roland threw the bouquet into the hearth, a surge of flame followed. "This family has never backed down because of that witch's threats, and we won't start now!"

"But Audrey..."

"We have two generations of soldiers in attendance." Roland laughed. "You think one woman stands a chance against two armies?" He pondered for a moment. "Clo, we did say bring your own sword on the invitations, didn't we?"

"Of course." Clover hummed. "There! All prickle free." She stood up and stretched out her back. "We've done all that we can; there's no use worrying now you two. We have a big day tomorrow and everyone needs their rest." Harv watched helplessly as they shuffled off to bed. That nauseous feeling was back tenfold. They weren't listening to him, they didn't want to hear the wedding might be a bad idea, didn't want to hear that Harv was wanting to do something else in light of the witch's involvement. He had no choice in the matter.

He numbly walked to his little room at the side of the house, the second night he'd spend in it. Everything was exactly the same, the walls were barren, and the hearth was full of ash. His nightshirt was folded up next to his jacket on the bed where they had been this morning. It all felt so empty now that he was here alone. On his own, he could pretend someone warm was wrapped up in his arms instead of a cold pillow. That the faint smell of lavender was radiating off of someone's skin instead of lingering on his clothes and the sheets. Who was he even trying to kid, he only knew one person that bothered to scent themselves with expensive oils, and it didn't suit anyone else.

He had held strong in the face of temptation, but it felt so much like losing. He hoped Audrey would be forgiving and wordlessly understanding if lavender never entered the house again. He didn't know how to explain why it made him want to cut his heart out with a knife. As the night soldiered on, Harv finally slipped into a dreamless slumber.

#Warrior u #HarvFinn #little finnharv things #WU Fanfic Archive

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mayullla · 2 years

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Albedo

Scara(boobs)mouche

Since another person asked for Scaramouche I will just casually separate the two lol-

I do have him in my account. One of my favorites supports for a very long time, on that 3rd spot of a team of 4 it is either him or Kazuha there. He was like my 2nd character banner that I got (unlike Childe who got replaced by Ayato, Albedo is still surviving-)

The first thing that comes to mind is the fact that he loves to draw I guess. Rather than his story or how hot he was, I loved the fact that his elemental attack is basically flowers... the only reason why I wanted to pull for him at first plus the fact that the event weapon was def% sword I thought it wasn't a bad idea.

Writing wise... hahah.... *sweats* while a little complicated to write sometimes for me he is fun to write..., especially towards a few aus... that love potion fic is still one of my favorite things I have written hehe... He is the type of character that is more easy to write for the more niche aus cause like a researcher character but also an artist plus big brother plus the fact he is made out of chalk. (many options!!) (not only that Susbedo is a thing and dear how many fics did I read about that guy-)

Storywise he certainly has his own main events definitely. I am curious as to who he really is but he isn't really that character that gets left in my mind like others. He is more reserved than say Childe and Itto, and does not demand/command attention like Zhongli and Kaeya. But at the same time Albedo is the one character that always makes me gasp offended for the traveler when he teases them.

He is in his own world but curious about the world at the same time. Sometimes I think he has like a stable footing in the world around him but sometimes I feel like he is lost, I don't know why I feel that but occasionally I feel like he is lost or lonely (both for different reasons.) yet at the same time, he is happy and satisfied. (confusing really lol)

I think Albedo is affectionate, his care I don't think would be in front of your face. Sometimes I feel like you would have a moment wondering if he really cares about you only to suddenly show something he has been working on that is somehow related to you that makes you rethink why you have ever thought that he didn't care.

I am gonna add this for the fun of it can I see myself with him? hmmm, I can only imagine him as an acquaintance I guess. Nothing more really, he has his own life which is basically his own world. But if I am in his life lol guess I think I would like to be just another person he could rely on. Nothing big, but like there are so many things that he must do as the chief alchemist he is too busy. I just want to be a porter or someone who collects data. Nothing complicated- I zone out way too easily *sweats*, I don't need to know his past or have a strong bond with him. Last, is he my type? nOPE- but sometimes yes totally be up to making fics for this guy.

#mayu ask game #i dont have strong feelings for him #he is just there for me #a ticking time bomb that i am not sure when #it will explode #but has a family he treasures #i just think that he would be happy in the future #now and later lol #*shrugs* hehe

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sapphicwhxre · 3 years

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ASTERIA'S 2.5K FOLLOWER FIC REC LIST

i read fics just as much as i write them so here are some of my favourites. tysmsm for this milestone, i love you all <3 quick note: i didn't re-tag anyone if i recommended more than one of your works because of the tag limit.

───────── girls ─────────

hermione granger

tuesdays - @stupxfy

probably one of my all time favs for hermione. it's just so well written and adorable and fluffy and yes.

if i could tell her - @hellounicorn

pining, pining, PINING. the way these emotions and hermione's described is just... art. perfection. there's a happy ending and it is so worth the build up.

darling dearest - @dracolvr

fluffy goodness. read to be hopelessly in love with hermione ─ which, let's be real, we all are.

november rain - @pansydaisy

uhm i love this one sm. it's so simple but amazing ─ everyone has their days like this and having hermione to cure them? it's what everyone needs.

i need more - @15-dogs

i sobbed the first time i read this. it'll break your heart but it's so amazingly written that it's worth the sadness. actual gut wrenching / mindblowing writing.

how the potter girls react to you in lingerie - @pottersanime

the title. need i say more?

honeyed eyes - @minty-malfoy

HEAVEN. being hermione's first kiss as friend? but both of you idiots liking each other? oh my god, sign me up.

hugging her from behind - @pastanest

again, the title. read to feel 🥺💙

grey days - @pepperimps01

PANSMIONE 😌😌 it's angsty with a happy ending and i love it sm. this does such a perfect job of capturing pansy and hermione's relationship growing and having its ups and downs with just a few paragraphs. honestly so good

grenade - @hellounicorn

another one that'll make your heart shatter. but in the best way. these are the fics i live for where the you can't help but feel like it's really happening to you and hermione and god it's so fucking powerful. underrated writing right here in general. and also pansmione is the loml so it hurts in that way.

honeybees - @pansydaisy

fluffy aesthetic heaven.

lead the way - @teacup-tai

more pansmione but this is pure filthy thinking and satisfies all the sexual tension dreams pansmione shippers have.

two queens in a king sized bed - @shysneeze

domestic christmas morning with hermione and it's angelic.

would you still love me if i turned into a worm? - @minty-malfoy

one of those blurbs i never imagined i'd read or love so much. not to mention it's spot on and adorable.

pansy parkinson

right and wrong - @starrkidmalfoy

a first kiss and the overdone trope that i will never get sick of, the bitch who's soft only for you. the descriptions in this are perfection and the writing is beautiful <3

messed up - @writseo

toxic, messed up love fics will be the death of me. insane how well you captured it all and i just yes damn fucking props.

pansy parkinson imagine - @moonlight-imagines

*screams* THE BEST FRIEND BANTER + THE ENDING OH MY GOD OH MY GOD ─ I SCREAMED WHEN I FIRST READ THIS. I LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE IT.

dating pansy would include - @lotsoffandomimagines

ABSOLUTE POWER COUPLE SHIT and to this day, pansy saying "jealous much?" when being scolded for pda remains iconic.

grey days - @pepperimps01

as i said before: PANSMIONE 😌😌 it's angsty with a happy ending and i love it sm. this does such a perfect job of capturing pansy and hermione's relationship growing and having its ups and downs with just a few paragraphs. honestly so good

new rules - @silversslytherin

excuse me this is immaculate ─ pansy is the best friend and the second you see that she's also the best s/o, you're done for. perfection.

study "dates" - @turning-dreams-into-chaos

the title is self explanatory and this whole thing is fluffy heaven <3

how the potter girls react to you in lingerie - @pottersanime

read the title, thank me later.

lead the way - @teacup-tai

more pansmione but this is pure filthy thinking and satisfies all the sexual tension dreams pansmione shippers have.

traitor - @hufflepuff-writings

a masterpiece where pansy chooses the wrong side in the battle of hogwarts. this ties up so well and the writing is so powerful.

back alley love potions - @a-simple-imagine

this actually hurts but in a beautiful way. watching pansy give draco a love potion is such a fucking concept and this is executed incredibly.

my little bunny - @emmamarie7708

pansy making you do this is so dirty yet she's slightly sweet and i am a sucker for it. god is a woman and her name is pansy fucking parkinson.

pansy parkinson imagine - @moonlight-imagines

i'll let pansy beat people up for me all day. they put me in madame pomfrey's, feel my girlfriend's wrath.

ginny weasley

blissful - @enyastasia

fluffy ginny goodness. the friends to lovers? the amazing kiss? 🥺🥺🥺💞💞 this fic lives in my heart <3

bubble pop electric - @hunnypot-imagines

this is hotter than a lot of actual smut and the chemistry is so... wow. ginny weasley owns me.

dear ginny - @alyssamalfoy

how does this short ass letter manage to make me feel so much. it's sorcery but i don't even care, it's beautiful.

wildflower - @pansydaisy

will i ever get tired of cheeky i love yous? not when loves like ginny weasley and ayli's so so pretty writing exist.

all i want - @hellounicorn

ouch. fuck you harry :) quite possibly the best ginny fic i have ever read. insanely talented writing, i genuinely feel every touch of emotion you put down and you need to know how amazing that is. keep breaking my heart.

linny hcs - @bluebirdlinginthenest

who doesn't need good linny content in their life?

how the potter girls react to you in lingerie - @pottersanime

sexy bitch, fuck me up.

willow - @padmeamiala

ginny is the loml. her brothers can cry about it.

bellatrix lestrange

attempting to bake with bellatrix - @carters-coffee

MY FAVOURITE BELLA FIC ─ there's not enough bellatrix fluff out there but this makes up for the lack of. heaven.

bellatrix prompt - @carters-coffee

this gives me chills. she knows she's a bad bitch and that's what we love about her.

change of plans - @dumb-sbian

why THE FUCK have i not had a rainy morning with bellatrix? she can sleep and mumble something just like this and i'm still head over heels for her.

being tortured as bellatrix's girlfriend - @writings-of-a-british-fangirl

definitely a concept BUT this makes me feel some type of way and i recommend giving it a minute of your time 😌

bellatrix finding out you're a muggleborn - @carters-coffee

the beauty, the nuance omg. this is art.

bellatrix prompt - @carters-coffee

yep jealous bella. trust me, im all yours mommy <3

sex with bellatrix would include - @onegayastronaut

so short but... sign. me. up.

luna lovegood

never leave - @/deactivated

luna smut is hard asf to come by and this is my favourite. it's so luna and the pain over her not knowing, not getting that closure about how you feel until this is an amazing rollercoaster.

she - @hunnypot-imagines

the beauty of falling in love with luna, through this majorly talented writing. ten out of fucking ten. i will not elaborate but there's also majorly good association in this imo.

silver berries and flickering fireflies - @duskgrangers

i love this fic so much. she's so herself and that is why we ✨ simp ✨ and the scene set just sounds so prettyy

how the potter girls react to you in lingerie - @pottersanime

luna + this title? yes please, ma'am i am simping.

would you still love me if i turned into a worm? - @minty-malfoy

put me in your pocket luna. im begging you.

dancing in the rain with luna - @/deactivated

only luna would get you a dress to go dancing in the rain and this is the stuff of blissful, fluffy dreams.

hugging her from behind - @pastanest

short and cute, do me a favour and read it :)

dating luna lovegood would go like - @glossymalfoy

life is NOT worth it if you don't read these cute little headcanons and imagine dating ravenclaw's baddest bitch.

linny hc - @bluebirdlinginthenest

like i said, who doesn't need good linny content?

cho chang

strawberry kisses - @pansydaisy

the only cho fic i've been able to find and it's SO WORTH IT. the cutest, it flows so well, and i absolutely love it. i need this with cho tbh.

fleur delacour

toutes les etoiles - @coffee--writes

im in love with fleur and this amazing writing. and for the first time since i started high school, my three years of taking french feel good for something.

being best friends with fleur would include - @harrypotter-imaginess

not romantic but actually so sweet pls. i want this friendship in my life so bad.

nymphadora tonks

dating nymphadora tonks would include - @imaginesforgirls

dating her + that warm little feeling of bliss that only HCs can give you

taking care of her after the war - @random-imagines-blog

this kind of hurts in that good ass way and i lovee it. they're simple hcs but i feel for tonks so much and then there's that warm lil feeling when you're the one to put her back together aand now my primary life goal is to help this woman heal.

───────── boys ─────────

harry potter

phosphenes - @minty-malfoy

ok shakespeare, the fuck?? this fic will never not get me right in the heart. the angst, holy fuck. and for once, the reader doesn't hurt harry and let draco walk all over them and it's just done so well. the transition from a toxic relationship to a sweet, loving one PLEASE. it's beautiful.

happy memories - @15-dogs

how does this manage to be so. smutty and fluffy at the same time? this is one of those short ones that has lived in my head, rent-free since i read it. and tbh any fic that includes expecto patronum is guaranteed to be good.

come back to me - @wondernimbus

right from the beginning, it's a mess of emotions both good and bad. that kind of good ass writing that hits you in the heart <3

making out with harry potter would include - @badfvith

read this title. done? now thank me later.

harry prompt - @thoseofgreatambition

harry x a sarcastic swooning bitch is an elite trope idc. short and sweet, i'm marrying this fic.

keep your eyes on the prize - @rowema-ravenclaw

first of all, showing harry up and second, pure fluff (and a little steam) right after. i also love how she writes harry in general because he's totally safe/in love with the relationship but still has that awkward lovable shyness and i just... *sighs*

always - @pansydaisy

uhm i will always love him and always reread this a thousand times so its a fit title + a good read.

late night studying - @lumosandnoxwriting

fuck studying, let his hand stay in my shirt. once again recommending fluffy bliss in the form of a short read that makes me feel things <3

would you still love me if i turned into a worm? - @minty-malfoy

he's so stupid. but he still loves you + this is from our resident perfectly talented writer so its a win.

cuddling after a rough quidditch practice - @badfvith

harry james potter is : b a b y

gryffindor's victory - @rowema-ravenclaw

make me gryffindors fucking cheerleader because HOT HOT HOT HOT HOT. AND THE WRITING IS IMMACULATE PLEASE. just read it, you won't regret it.

draco malfoy

silent treatment - @slytherinwh0re

andy's mad talented and this is just... insert a cheesy chefs kiss. unbelievably adorable but so fucking hot and an actually good smut plot (which is rare lmfao). remind me to give draco the silent treatment every time im upset.

rewards - @malfoysstilinski

so hot PLS. hype him up for the match and get your reward, bye. so good.

reading between the lines - @minty-malfoy

i've said this a thousand times but that's what happens when you've got a mad talented mutual BLESSING everyone with beauty like this. butterflies and warm feelings all around when i read this 💓

point of view - @draconisxcaput

its angst for hermione and fluff for you but overall ethereal writing. i am never going to recover from the pure talent that this is.

im not kidding im dying - @malfoysmatrioshka

i hate being sick with a passion but this... this would make it worth it.

hogwarts express - @/deactivated

draco fucking you because he knows harry's watching. the shit of legends and god is it hot.

draco laughing at you because you can't walk after sex - @glossymalfoy

*motions to the title* fluff with this loser 😌

the cheeseburger - @slytherinwh0re

really short read but this is one of those things i just. didn't know i needed. you're missing out and haven't even realised it if you haven't read about introducing him to cheeseburgers. and that ending is so funny/in character to me i fucking love it.

four am - @malfoysstilinski

domestic draco 🥺 but also sad draco 🥺 and then fluffy draco 🥺

hugging him from behind - @pastanest

real short and it'll brighten your day <3

would you still love me if i turned into a worm? - @minty-malfoy

how is it that this is so stupidly adorable. i love it 💘

ron weasley

heather - @hellounicorn

always making me cry with your fics i swearrr. this is a must-read. having someone but them not really being yours is a beautiful trope and this fic absolutely does it wonderful, poetic justice. your angst is addicting.

apple pie - @pregnant-piggy

ABSOLUTE DOMESTIC BLISS I AM IN LOVE. i don't even like kids or baking that much but this made me so soft. the whole cozy, heavenly vibes from this fic yes yes yes.

jealousy - @writeroutoftime

cliché jealousy turns friends to lovers and i am a sucker for it all over again <3

shaking and trembling - @ronsbadidea

if ron doesn't finger fuck me and then make a cheeky comment about it in class later then WHAT IS THE POINT :(

mixed signals - @iamthecabbage

i've always figured ron is this awkward idiot cutie with a crush and yea, this is it.

fred and george weasley

i love you, but you don't - @george-fabian-weasley

fred's a character i really don't read for often but goddamn. it's the saddest, most beautiful mix of rejection and pain and fred desperately caring but not in the way you want him to ─ an angsty masterpiece.

cockwarming george - @roonilwazlibimagines

because of this filthy gem, i one hundred thousand percent believe that he could make me cum without even fucking me and this is just... it's a good fucking read.

would you still love me if i turned into a worm? - @minty-malfoy

their responses are so wonderfully chaotic and adorable and GOD you're missing out if you haven't read these lil blurbs.

─

#harry potter x reader #hermione granger x reader #pansy parkinson x reader #luna lovegood x reader #ginny weasley x reader #draco malfoy x reader #fred weasley x reader #george weasley x reader #cho chang x reader #nymphadora tonks x reader #bellatrix lestrange x reader #ron weasley x reader #fleur delacour x reader #harry potter #fic recs #masterlist #smut #fluff #angst

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youreyeslookliketheocean · 3 years

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youreyeslookliketheocean’s DSMP Fic Recs!!

Figured it was about time for one of these... :)

Mostly SBI-centric because they’re my favorite dynamic. I’ll probably add to this list as time goes on, and I also want to go back through my ao3 history and find some lesser-known fics I really enjoyed to rec them all. But for now...

* oneshot ** unfinished work

** the lights go out (my heart goes still) by curseworm

With his old home unwelcoming and his new one gone, Tommy is alone. After hours of staggering through the freezing snow, he finds a cabin.

Technoblade’s cabin.

He hides himself away in the deepest corner he can find, taking only what he needs to survive, wasting away in the cold and the dark. He’s petrified at the thought of being found out, terrified of what he thinks Techno would do to him.

When Techno finds his injured teenage brother huddled in a filthy little cave beneath his basement, the rage he feels is immeasurable. The voices demand blood, and blood he will give them. Dream won’t be getting away with this one.

(On the other side of the world, in a country that floats on a man-made lake, Philza gets himself in a bit of a pickle.)

** The hearth down under by Crystalquill

A tiny change gives Tommy the courage to flee to the Nether instead of the cold tundra, finding an unlikely ally in the midst of a fiery hellscape.

But tiny changes can alter the course of history. The SMP will never be the same.

(Lots of cool Nether worldbuilding in this one!!)

to be a wanderer, wandering by hydrangeasheart

Tommy's feet drag in the snow.

It's so, so cold. He's so cold. His toes are freezing. His exposed shins feel like they’ve been cut open-- even the one that’s bandaged. His wings have gone numb, which is almost, almost good, because now he can’t feel the shifting, broken bones inside of the left one, just under feathers and muscle.

He doesn’t know why he’s still walking.

Or, Tommy leaves the exploded ruins of Logstedshire behind, and walks until he finds somewhere safe.

And things keep going from there.

(A canon-divergent AU, splitting off somewhere around when Tommy started hiding out below Techno's house.)

that’s, like, a hundred miles by No_one_you_know (and then “as long as i’m here”, and “he’s my brother, i just raise him”)

Dream would kill him. Dream was going to kill him- he was going to- no, he wouldn’t. Dream was his friend- friends don’t hit each other- Dream was supposed to take care of him- Dream /was/ taking care of him.

It hurt to breathe. It hurt to think. He couldn’t clear his thoughts as he stumbled to the family computer, pulling up a tab on google and frantically typing the name into the search bar.

The words Technoblade Watson stared back at him, the little black bar at the end of the letters blinking slowly, mocking him.

Why, of all people, did it have to be Technoblade?

in short: the one where dream sucks as a parental figure, tommy runs away, and visits his least favorite family member technoblade.

passerine by thcscus(blujamas)

Do I really need to put the summary here? Pretty much everyone knows this fic. Also, though, if you enjoy this one you should totally read thcscus’ connected fic, “shrike”!! It’s only at 2 chapters right now but it’s already really good and has this dark, foresty aesthetic I love...

not with a bang but with a whimper by dip_dyed_ghost

He knows Tubbo doesn’t care about him anymore. He knows that. He’s been shown that. But it doesn’t stop Tommy from caring about him. He brushes the pads of his fingers over the compass’s glass and wonders how he’s doing, if he’s tired of it all yet, if he needs help. He watches the way it points strongly in the direction over the ocean. He hopes he’s alright.

Even after everything, he hopes he’s alright.

During his exile, Tommy finds a drugged and hurt Tubbo on his doorstep. He can’t not help him.

(This one has a neat take on potions, in my opinion. Also it’s only 4 chapters so it’s a quick read!)

take this compass, follow it home by lightning_anon

Tommy's a fuck up, he can't pay attention, and never sits still. He taps his hands, pushes people away, and has never had a best friend. He's a screwed up, forgotten kid lost in the foster system. He's also just been placed with a new family. Tommy knows how this goes, he never ends up staying long. After all, no one wants a fuck up like him.

Why would this house be any different?

Or: the obligatory sleepy bois foster fic, but with a focus on the neurodivergent kids that inevitably get lost in the system.

(Genuinely want to see more books like this in original fiction. It’s part of what inspired my newest og wip, “To Build a Home.” So sweet and I feel like I had my eyes opened to some neurodivergent tendencies I never knew existed. I read this in a day and can’t rec it enough.)

bloodlines by youreyeslookliketheocean

Tommy’s an orphan on the run from his previous guardian. Philza’s a king who prides himself on keeping his kingdom in an era of peace. Wilbur’s the crown prince, and Techno’s right beside him as his adopted brother. When Phil’s kingdom of Pogtopia is threatened by the bloodvines—a strange, brainwashing plant infecting many of the surrounding kingdoms—the four must work together to keep the kingdom, and their family, safe. --- A royal au sbi fic... + the bloodvines, for spice.

(Yes I’m self-promoting. But, in my defense, I’m very proud of it. If you checked it out it would mean the world to me :’))

Heat Waves by tbhyourelame

Dream has always held a gentle admiration for George, but when their nuanced friendship trickles into his sleeping mind, he awakens to a new world of conflicting emotions and longing. Lost in the midst of a heat wave, he continuously listens to a song that works itself in to the very core of his heartache. Floridian nights, unsent messages, spiraling infatuation, and terrible, terrible weather.

Another fic I think pretty much everyone knows about. Listen, listen... I was once an idiot who said “Oh no, I’ll never read Heat Waves. It’s irl, not characters, and it’s probably cringe”... No. I was so wrong. This fic is wonderfully written, with a pretty quick moving plot and great characterizations. You do need an ao3 account to access it, though. Just to let you know. (Also read “Helium”, unfinished and hasn’t updated in awhile, but it’s the continuation).

Guitar Strings and Keyrings are What it Takes to Build a Home by Anonymous

Techno was adopted by Phil when he was 12 years old.

He'd been enjoying his morning before Phil came to him asking if he would mind them taking in another kid. Against his better judgement, Techno agrees and ends up with two new foster brothers who he was determined to not get attached to, no matter what.

Tommyinnit’s unbeatable method of avoiding sudden death by eneliii

“I uh,” Tommy starts, not knowing how to break this to the hero lightly. He hates to be the bearer of bad news. “I think your powers are broken? It’s not a bad thing of course, but like, I swear you tried to mind control me and it like, totally failed. Which is fine, honestly, don’t feel insecure. Everyone’s power stop working sometimes… I think.”

Sheesh, this is very awkward. Why is no one else talking? Why is Philza looking at him like he grew three heads? Why is the Blade staring at him so intensely? Why is Willow still frozen?

“Did I, did I hit a nerve? Yikes,” Tommy hisses, “Well um,” He steps back, bracing his legs and bending his knees, “This was like super fun, but I’m - I’mma head out.”

or,

in which Tommy manages to annoy the hell out of Phil, Techno and Wilbur by being both impossible to catch and irritatingly endearing.

or or,

a crack fic where Tommy is a vigilante and Phil, Techno and Wilbur are the heroes hunting him down.

(Feel like I am obligated to say how incredibly funny this fic is. Seriously. I have a distinct memory of sitting on my neighborhood park’s swing, giggling hysterically, while reading this. Well...until the end... but we won’t get into that...)

** bones in the ocean by bunflower

“Your reputation precedes you, y’know.”

“Does it, now?” Philza watches him coyly from where he’s now leaning against the wall, arms folded around his chains and gaze half-lidded, his lips curled in an arrogant, cat-like smirk.

“The Angel of Death, the ferryman of the Styx, the terror of the western seas. One of the most feared captains ever to sail, and yet, I have to wonder… how did a man like you end up all on his own? We searched the area where you were found—not another soul in sight. So,” He fixes him with a long look, allowing the silence to hover like a dark cloud, the words rolling off of his tongue with all the venom and smugness he can muster, “—tell me, Philza. Where is your crew?”

OR: Technoblade is a naval captain, and Phil his unwilling prisoner. Somehow, they manage to come out of it as friends in the end.

(Is this fic considered popular like passerine/Heat Waves now? Cause I feel like it’s reputation precedes itself, at this point... Pirate au.)

****

Okay! That’s it for now. Like I said, though, I want to add to this over time and also dig back for some older things I’ve read. Also, if you have any recs feel free to send them in! I’m about to go back to school and therefore might not have time for reading fun stuff, but whenever I get the chance I’d love to check them out!!!

Happy Reading!!

263 notes · View notes

drawlfoy · 3 years

Text

detention, retention, and draco malfoy being a little shit

masterlist request guidelines

pairing: draco x reader

request: no not really

summary: golden trio friend y/n y/l/n tries to extract information out of draco malfoy after being placed in detention together.

warnings: swearing, panic attack kinda stuff, just the dark war things that would come w having the task that draco does

a/n: ayo so i started this as a fic i was originally planning on writing in a week. i discontinued it bc i didn’t think anyone was that interested, but i’ve written for it on and off. it’s about 16k words right now standing, but i’m reposting this as a 2 part series. here are the first ~12k words....enjoy :) IMPORTANT: if you’re like “hey i started reading this in october why tf are you reposting the first two parts” just keep reading ok lmao i promise there’s more there’s about through part 6 in here hehe. i just wanted new readers to be able to pick up on it without being turned off by the fact that it was part 3. this will b e 2 parts and at least 20k words

word count: 11.6k

taglist: @gruffle1 @missmultifandommess @cleopatera @hahaboop @accio-rogers @geeksareunique @eltanin-malfoy @war-sword @cams-lynn @itsivyberry @ayo-cowbelly @nerd-domland @yesnerdsblog @shizarianathania @evanstanfanatic @strawberriesonsummer @hariosborn @night-ving @straightzoinked @imintoodeeptostop @naiomimoonshard @jejegu @ophelia-enthusiast @alwaysbeanunknownfan @nearly-memories @litty-dumb @callieclearwater @malfoy-wife15 @charlenasaxen @belladaises @fiantomartell

happy reading y’all

For legal purposes, the york pudding she lobbed at Pansy Parkinson’s head on Monday evening was simply meant to be a joke. She didn’t know that her aim was bad enough that it was going to get in Snape’s hair instead--honestly, it wasn’t even supposed to get past the Ravenclaw table, much less veer to the left to make a beeline for the professors--but no matter how much she tried to explain this to McGonagall, her sentence remained the same: detention every Friday. For two months.

Her life was ending for sure.

“I honestly don’t know what you were expecting,” Hermione told her as she gently wiped off the nib of her quill later that night in the common room. “Even if you had hit your mark, that’s still technically assault.”

“Did you even hear what she said to me? She told me that I looked like the type of kid that bit people in primary school,” complained Y/N. “I didn’t even think she knew what primary school was!”

Hermione snorted. “How long ago?”

“Two days. I’ve been waiting until there was something throwable on the dinner table.”

“How very analytic of you.”

“I’m going to hit you.”

“And you wonder why you’ve got detention.” Hermione tsk-ed at her, her face stone serious but her tone light hearted. “Maybe take this as an opportunity to, I don’t know, do your homework for once? So you won’t have to have a breakdown over the next Potion’s essay and beg me to write it for you?”

“I’m going to go to sleep and think terribly mean thoughts about you.”

“Have fun.”

Detention.

Something that Y/N wasn’t completely unfamiliar with--she’d done her time organizing Snape’s cabinets, just like every other Gryffindor--but it was different when it came to McGonagall. An impressive old lady, she thought that McGonagall saw something in her. She was always the first to chuckle at Y/N’s jokes and hesitated to reprimand her stupid behavior. And she never gave Y/N detention.

Until now, she supposed. 6th year was changing a lot of things--even their Potions professor--so McGonagall turning a new stone shouldn’t have been anything shocking.

At least, not as shocking as the first thing Y/N saw as she walked into her house head’s office.

“Malfoy?” she spat.

The platinum blonde didn’t even bother to look up from his desk.

“Miss Y/L/N,” Professor McGonagall chided. “I think we would all prefer if you restrained yourself from getting into any more physical altercations with Slytherins.”

She huffed, plopping down in the chair furthest away from that foul git and reaching for her satchel.

“I’ll be back in two hours,” said the elderly professor. “If I hear anything, and I mean anything, other than the sound of studying, consider your sentence doubled.”

With a swish of her robes, McGonagall was gone, leaving her with Malfoy.

“So what’d you do to get in here, huh? Did the administration finally get a hold of that video of you licking Voldemort’s toes?”

“What the fuck does that mean?!” he snapped, whipping around to glare at her.

“‘s just a joke,” said Y/N. “Like--how everyone says your family houses him and everything--but whatever. I can tell it’s a sore spot.”

His gaze, never withering in intensity, remained trained on her face. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Apparently so. What’re you here for?”

He exhaled sharply. “If I tell you, will you shut up and let me think?”

“No promises, but maybe.”

“Late work. I forgot to turn in the Transfiguration exam last week.”

She made a tutting sound as she lazily shuffled through the crumpled parchment in her satchel. “I expected more from you. Aren’t you gonna ask me how I wound up here?”

“No. I am going to ask you to stop talking now, though.”

“That’s terribly unfortunate,” Hermione said over breakfast the next morning. Ron and Harry were nervously chit chatting at the other side of the table over the Saturday Quidditch game against Hufflepuff--supposedly it was supposed to be quite a high stakes match. Not like Y/N cared much, though.

“Yeah! And the worst part was that he won’t even tease anymore. Like, he just sits there all broody and woe is me. We’re all witnessing our nation’s descent into war--he’s not special!”

“Who are you talking about?” asked Harry.

“Oh, just Malfoy,” said Y/N. “We have detention together with McGonagall. He’s such a nasty little greaseball, don’t you think? I mean, look at him right now, glowering over his cereal.”

“Wait! That’s it!”

“What’s it, Harry?” Hermione asked.

“It’s genius, really,” he said. “Y/N has to spend time with him alone every week, and we know that something is up with him. Malfoy is absolutely a Death Eater and has connections to You-Know-Who, but I just need to find a way to prove it.”

“I vaguely forecast where this is going, and I hate it already.”

“Listen, Y/N. It’s not for that long, and it’s for the health of the wizarding world. If you just get to know him--”

“Ick!”

“If you just get to know him, maybe get him to trust you and find out his secrets...we’d finally have enough to turn him in and throw him out of Hogwarts for good.”

“Is that really necessary, Harry?” Ginny butted in from her seat further down next to Dean. “Malfoy’s probably just exhausted like the rest of you. 6th year is difficult, and we have no solid evidence that he’s a Death Eater. I’m sure being stuck in a room with him for 2 hours is hard enough without pretending to be nice to him.”

“But what if Harry’s right?” said Y/N. “What if he is actually a Death Eater? What if he’s an active danger to the student body?”

“Exactly!” The joy written across Harry’s face at the prospect of someone else finally agreeing was infectious. “So will you?”

“Er…” She dragged her spoon across the top layer of her porridge. “In theory, sure. In actuality, I’m not sure how I could do it. Malfoy doesn’t want anything to do with me, either.”

“Love potion?” offered Ron.

“I don’t care how much of a prat he is, I’m not roofying him.”

“I rarely agree with you, Y/N, but I think you’re right. If you want to do this, you need to get him to trust you for real.”

“Your back-handed compliment skills never disappoint, Hermione. Do you think you could help me out with a plan?”

A slow smile spread across the girl’s face as she nodded. “That’s my strong suit.”

The plan they laid out over the remainder of the day was ambitious but at least do-able. Each week was split into different subtasks, the end goal being a somewhat tentative friendship between the two.

“If you can flirt with him and get him to have a crush on you without scaring him off, you’d be in the best possible position,” Hermione told her as they walked back from the Quidditch pitch among the screaming Gryffindor fans. They’d won--yet again. “Obviously I don’t foresee that being likely, but if you pull it off somehow he’d probably be willing to tell you anything. The fact that you’re a pureblood is going to carry you through this whole ordeal. He’ll at least be accepting of your existence in the wizarding community.”

The bitter edge in Hermione’s tone made Y/N’s blood boil. There was no reason for Malfoy to be as prejudiced as he was--he’d spent his adolescence in Hermione’s academic dust. She was obviously smarter than him.

“You got it, ‘Mione,” she said. Her voice barely carried over the cheers of her peers as they ascended the steps to the common room. “We’ll take this little ferret down. I can’t wait.”

“Don’t get too cocky, now.”

The Gryffindor after-party was crazy...per usual. The charmed self-filling goblets, the blasted playlist of Wizpop pumping through the air, and the buzzing energy of the room was giving Y/N a giant headache. She stood with Hermione and Harry by the edge of the crowd, watching Ron get hoisted up on the shoulders of the chasers.

“No wonder the Slytherins think we’re Neanderthals,” Y/N mused. For once, Hermione didn’t respond. “Hermione? Is everything okay?”

The second she turned away to look at her best friend, gasps and whistles filled the room. She whipped back just in time to see Lavender Brown, a sweet but slightly ditzy girl in their year, pull away from a kiss with Ron.

“Oh shi--Hermione!”

Harry and Y/N shared a glance before darting after the witch--who had impressively already made it to the door.

“Hermione, wait!” Y/N called as they jogged after her, throwing open the common room entrance and finding her sat by the tapestry on the other side of the hall, knees to her chest.

“‘Mione, what’s wrong?” asked Harry.

“Don’t be daft, Harry,” said Y/N. “You saw exactly what the rest of us did.”

“I don’t understa--”

“Harry.” Her voice was taut. “I know you’re just trying to help, but I think that it might be best if you let us be. Go back and enjoy the party.”

He gave her a tight, grateful smile before darting back through the door. Y/N wasted no more time in walking over to Hermione and throwing her arms around her shoulders.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, hugging her tight. Hermione made no move to detach them, so she continued. “Ron is an idiot. You deserve so much better--your first kiss was Viktor fucking Krum, after all. You’re hot stuff and this place is just unfortunately running dry of men who are impressive enough for you. Once you’re out of here and working in the Ministry, you’re gonna have the time of your life with men actually in your league.”

Hermione managed a sniffly laugh as she wiped her eyes with her sleeve. “It’s just so fucking embarrassing, you know. Like, I have a crush on him because I think he understands me and I smelled him in my Amortentia and I thought he’d like me back, but…” She hiccuped. “Then he goes off and kisses Lavender Brown, of all people. There’s nothing particularly wrong with her or anything, but she’s so different...I’m so bookish, and she’s so girly and everything I’m not…”

Y/N took the opportunity to tuck a lock of Hermione’s hair behind her ear as she listened.

“And it can’t help but make me think--was I ever anything to him but a friend? If the girl he ends up choosing is the opposite of me?”

“Girly, don’t think like that,” murmured Y/N. “He’s a teenage boy. They don’t think of love the way that we do--to them it’s a game of availability, not of choice. At least for Ronald. You intimidate him, and by extension, you’re not available.”

“That shouldn’t matter!”

“You’re right. It shouldn’t.” Y/N drew a long breath. “So you should find someone who always has you as their first choice--someone who isn’t intimidated by your intellect. They’re out there. I promise.”

Hermione managed a shaky smile. “Thanks, Y/N. I mean it. Do you mind if I have some alone time? I don’t think I’m ready to go back to the party but I just want some quiet.”

“Of course. Let me know if you need me,” she said, brushing herself off and making to walk down the hall.

“You’re not going back to the party?”

“Nah. It hurts my head and I want fresh air. If I’m not back here in a half hour, assume that I’ve been kidnapped.”

With that, she started her walk. She wasn’t planning on going on a long stroll--there was a small balcony that she often went to when she needed to clear her head. It was beautiful, especially on a snowy night like this.

But the walk was creepy.

There was only one way in and out--a narrow, damp hallway that had absolutely no light fixtures. If Y/N really wanted to, she could cast a quick lumos, but she wasn’t sure if she wanted to see what lived on the walls. The stairs were steep, too, but she managed to bound up all 40 of them in record time.

“Who’s there?”

The sudden voice ripped a scream out of Y/N’s throat as she reached the top, catching a glimpse of the shadowy figure at the edge of the balcony that spoke. She clasped her hand over her mouth and she crept forward to the opening, getting a better look at the person that was in her secret spot.

The clouds shifted in the sky to allow more moonlight to cast a soft glow on Malfoy’s face, hardened with irritation.

“Malfoy?” Y/N asked, rather dumbly.

“What stellar observational skills,” he drawled.

She felt her cheeks grow hot. “What are you doing here? This is part of the Gryffindor tower. Shouldn’t you be...I don’t know...playing hide and seek with the sewer rats in the dungeons?”

“Very funny.” His flat tone exposed the fact that he did not, in fact, find it very funny. “There’s no rule barring me from coming up here.”

“But why? This is my spot!”

“Because I wanted to get out. Now, I was here first, so unless you want your detention extended, I suggest you leave.”

Y/N bit the fiery comebacks on the tip of her tongue as the memories of her plan with Hermione began floating back to her.

Week 1 -- Hold one neutral, civil conversation with Malfoy.

“I’ll be quiet. You won’t even know I’m here,” Y/N decided upon. leaning up against the balcony. The rogue snowflakes that made it past the overhanging roof melted on her cheeks.

“That isn’t a suggestion,” said Malfoy. “I’m demanding you leave.”

“Beautiful night, isn’t it?” Y/N asked, pointedly ignoring his words. “I’ve always loved the snow. It’s so quiet.”

“And it would be even quieter if you left.”

“Aren’t you the conversationalist?” said Y/N.

“If you don’t leave, I will hex you,” Malfoy told her through gritted teeth.

“I just love how the moonlight reflects off of the snow,” continued Y/N. “It’s so...pure.”

“Please leave.”

On her walk back down the dank stairwell, she allowed herself a little smile.

Task 1? Technically done.

The first week went largely as planned. Malfoy was cold and certainly suspicious of her, but he wasn’t completely venomous when Y/N asked where he got his quill from in Potions. It was silver, charmed to shimmer with flecks of forest green. He told her Barnaby’s in France, and that was that. She walked away from his table with all of her limbs attached. Perhaps that was all the progress she was going to make in the next few weeks, but the task at hand certainly made the prospect of her lost Friday afternoons more bearable.

Harry was going completely batty, rambling on about how Malfoy was behind the mysterious cursed objects that had been floating about the castle without explanation.

“And why would Malfoy bring cursed objects to Hogwarts if he has aspirations other than being expelled?” Hermione would ask over their books.

“You don’t understand, Hermione! You girls need to be careful walking around at night--especially you, Y/N. I don’t want you going missing after detention because of that slimeball.”

Y/N always gave him a laugh, berating him for his slight misogynistic commentary and turning back to whatever her task was, but the truth was that she was worried for him. The mental weight of the impending war and the fact that he couldn’t do anything about it was certainly getting too difficult for him to bear. It was heartbreaking to see the vivacious boy she’d grown up with crumble under the responsibilities of something he should never have to worry about in the first place.

Friday came much sooner than expected, and Y/N reluctantly left her friends in the common room to trek to McGonagall’s office. The walk was frigid and the wind bit at her cheeks as she rounded the last outdoor hall.

Why was this castle so dark?

A thump behind her made her jump, and Harry’s words came floating back to her.

Remember all those cursed objects? What if there’s someone just...stalking the school grounds, waiting for someone like me to snatch?

She shivered, throwing herself at the office door and slamming it behind her.

“Miss Y/L/N,” Professor McGonagall greeted, her eyebrows raised in amusement. “Something giving you trouble?”

“No, Professor,” she answered, setting her bag down on the desk next to Malfoy. He sent her a curious look as well. “It’s just cold outside.”

She chuckled. “I need to go speak to Headmaster Dumbledore. I expect that, upon my return, you both are in one piece and alive.”

“I’m not sure if I’m the one who needs to be given that speech,” said Y/N, bored and testing the waters.

“She’s right, Professor,” added Malfoy. “There’s no projectiles here.”

McGonagall exhaled a long, shaky breath before brushing herself off. “Please. Behave yourselves.”

“You got it, boss,” she said as she watched her Professor walk out the door. “So, Malfoy. How was your week?”

“I don’t know what you’re up to, but I’d way prefer if you didn’t speak to me,” he said, refusing to make eye contact.

“I’m not up to anything! We’re in detention together and, I dunno, since I see you sometimes at balls, I thought it’d be nice to be on good terms.”

“Good terms?” He scoffed. “You’re a Gryffindor. I’d rather you be a bloody Hufflepuff.”

“How about neutral terms?”

Even though he wasn’t looking at her, she could catch a glimpse of him rolling his eyes. “If neutral terms mean you being quiet, then, yes. Please.”

“I’ll be plenty quiet. After I hear about your opinion on what happened in Potions today with Brown and Weasley. When Snape yelled at them for holding hands.”

He let out a sharp sigh. “Believe it or not, I actually have better things to do than keep up with whatever stuff your house does.”

“But…?” Y/N pressed. She may not’ve spent her time at Hogwarts as Malfoy’s best friend, but she had grown up with the boy, and she could tell when he was holding back.

He stared blankly at her.

“Come on. I’m literally the only person in my house who’ll openly admit that they’re disgusted by that dynamic. I’m begging you.”

She wasn’t sure if she was imagining it, but she thought she saw a flicker of amusement dance across his face for a moment. “Your house sounds more like a cult than a student group.”

“Oh, says the one from Slytherin,” said Y/N.

“We only act like that because our families are close. What’s your excuse? Hormones and Quidditch culture?”

“Touché.” As much as she wanted to fight back, she bit her tongue. Whatever she was doing was making progress, and quicker progress than she was expecting. Her next task was to make him laugh, and she was emboldened by the fact that she could potentially be able to kill two birds with one stone.

They sat in silence for a little bit, but this time, it was a comfortable silence. Malfoy wasn’t staring at the clock on the wall or rolling his eyes at her every move, so she had time to plot.

On one hand, she could make a fool of herself--drop her inkwell, say something stupid in class, fall down the stairs--but she had a sneaking suspicion that her sorry attempts at slapstick humor wouldn’t land well with Draco anymore. He’d become so serious lately, so solemn. This was the most light hearted she’d seen him, even compared with how he acted with the rest of his Slytherin lackeys.

On the other, she could try to sell out her friends. She could confide in him how “big” Hermione’s teeth were (they weren’t even big) or tell him that Ron smelled of eggs (true, but that was a low blow). Something told her that this would be much more successful, but she wasn’t willing to turn to that so quickly--she was already a week ahead as it was.

“What is it?”

Malfoy’s bored drawl cut through her flurried thoughts. Her cheeks turned pink as she blinked, noticing that she’d been staring at him for far too long. “Nothing. Sorry. I just spaced out.”

“Sure,” he mumbled, giving her another suspicious look before turning back to his work. “Can you maybe space out somewhere other than my face?”

“Where’s your vanity, Malfoy?” she pressed as she leaned back in her chair, hair swinging over the back.

“Shut up,” he snapped. She could tell that whatever connection they’d had in the fleeting moments beforehand was being burnt by the second, but her embarrassment and pride drove her forward.

“Merlin, what’s got you so wound up?” she prompted, noting how deliciously unraveled he looked at this. “Where’s my cool, collected Slytherin?”

He slammed hands on his desk at this, whipping around to glare at her. “What’s your angle, Y/L/N?”

“What?”

“Why are you bothering me?”

“Because I want to.” She beamed.

Malfoy ran his fingers through his hair, mussing up the usual neat manner in which it normally laid on his head. “Compelling. What do you want from me?”

“What do I want…?” She tilted her head at him, narrowing her eyes. “What?”

“You never talk to me,” he explained. “Obviously, I prefer it like that. I can’t help but wonder why suddenly you want to be making small talk. So, what is it you want from me?”

“Malfoy,” she said. “I think you’re a spoiled prick who thinks far too highly of himself and drives me insane. But I also think that you’re funnier than what my friends give you credit for. Granted, you’ve always been annoying, but I don’t want anything from you. I just want to, I dunno, make these next few months less insufferable.” Somehow the lie slipped through her teeth easier than any of her previous bluffs.

He frowned, his mouth opening once before firmly screwing shut into a scowl. “Oh.”

“No offense, Malfoy, but what else can you offer me other than your dazzling personality?” she teased. “You know my family. I don’t need to blackmail you to pay for jewelry I’ve had my eye on or anything.”

He scoffed. “As if I’d say yes.”

“Exactly my point. It’d be fucking weird. Merlin, I’m not trying to butter you up to buy out Borgin & Burkes for me. Do I give off gold-digger vibes? Is that what this is about?”

“Fucking hell.” Malfoy turned to her in disbelief. “Do you ever shut up?”

“Answer my question. Or better yet, pull out your wallet. Wait, did I say that out loud?” She mimed surprise and covered her mouth. “Oh no! What will my mother say now that I’ve squandered my last chance of hitching you? There’s no way I can go home for Christmas break now.”

He rolled his eyes so hard she found herself worried for a moment that they were going to just permanently get stuck in the back of his head. “Hate to break it to you, but you didn’t really have a shot to begin with.”

Ouch.

She huffed and dramatically flopped over the back of her chair, hoping he couldn’t see that she’d flinched. “So you don’t think I’m pretty??”

“Y/L/N,” he snapped, his voice a low warning. “Can I please just work? What is with you today?”

Y/N sent him a sour look before giving her Charms work another look. Malfoy was awfully quiet, and when she snuck any glances at him later on, he was angled to face away from her.

Why did she feel like such shit all of a sudden? She cataloged the past events, trying to pinpoint the exact moment that her stomach dropped. It all made sense when the words “You didn’t really have a shot to begin with” echoed around her head once again. She’d failed Harry. She’d failed Hermione. There was no way that she was going to be able to get him to reveal his secrets now--it’s not like he was confiding in even his closest friends as Harry made apparent when he explained how vague his statements were to his fellow Slytherins on the train. Her only chance would’ve been to somehow get him to fall for her, and that wasn’t going...great. And it had been a pipedream to begin with.

When McGonagall swished back into the classroom to dismiss them, Y/N shot out of there without even looking at Malfoy again. It felt like something was lodged in her throat and she was not going to cry in front of him. No, no. She had to make it to Hermione to tell her what was going on.

“Y/L/N?”

Malfoy’s voice made her pause in her flee as she nearly rounded the corner in front of her, but she refused to look back. It was far enough away that it was possible she didn’t hear him.

“Wait!”

She was up the stairs and speed walking as fast as her legs could carry her to the Gryffindor tower before he even saw which way she went.

“I don’t think you understand,” Y/N wailed by the fire as Hermione rubbed her shoulders and Harry sat awkwardly perched on the couch. “I can’t do this. The only way this was going to work was if he had a crush on me, and I don’t think he ever will. I fucked it up! The one time you guys need me, I fuck it up! I let you down!”

Hermione’s left hand stopped its rubbing to rest firmly on her shoulder. “Please don’t be upset. You didn’t let us down. Plus, you’re only, what...two weeks in? You don’t need him to like you to make it work. Just getting him to trust you will be enough, and you’re good at that.”

“I don’t think so,” continued Y/N. “Harry said that he wasn’t even that open on the train when he overheard him talking to all of his friends. And those are purebloods that he likes! That he’s trusted and known for years and years! I’m a friend of you guys, and he knows it. I think he’d figure it out quick.”

“We should take every chance we can get,” said Harry from his spot a few feet away, his eyes lazy and unfocused on the fire crackling in front of them. “You won’t let us down if you can’t get anything, Y/N, you know that! But if you got anything from him, it’d be incredible. It’s a win-win. I don’t understand why you’re so upset.”

“I’m not upset,” she said, her tone becoming defensive. “I just...don’t want to mess this up. I know how much it’d mean if I succeeded.”

“So just try!” Hermione said. “There’s nothing wrong with it. I’m sorry he was kind of mean to you today, but I don’t think that should bother you too much. He should be more afraid of what you’d say if you didn’t care about being a good person.”

“Fucking right on there,” she said, wiping away the frustrated tears. “If I was honest with him, he’d leave crying. He should be grateful that I’m taking this bet so I actually have to be nice to him.”

“That’s the spirit.” Harry leaned over to smack her back like he did his Quidditch teammates after a winning match.

After they’d parted their ways with Harry, Hermione and Y/N made their way slowly up the stairwell to the girls’ dorms.

“Y/N?” Hermione asked, breaking the silence.

“Yeah?”

“Do you think, er…” She paused. “Do you think you were really upset about failing us today? Or was it something else?”

“What do you mean?” Y/N furrowed her eyebrows. “I don’t see what else it would be.”

“I’m sorry,” responded the bright witch. “Forget I ever asked. It was a stupid thing to wonder about.”

“Weirdo,” she teased as she waved her a goodnight and made her way to her dorm.

The next morning, Y/N busied herself with revising her Charms essay over her breakfast--a cup of tea and a half-buttered piece of toast--while Hermione leaned over her shoulder, nodding or grimacing at the corrections she made.

“Did you work during detention? Like, at all?”

“‘Mione,” moaned Y/N. “It’s too early for this. I don’t want a lecture. I just couldn’t focus.”

Her warm brown eyes narrowed as they bore into Y/N’s face. “Why were you distracted?”

“Oh, I, uh…” She stumbled over her words as Hermione drew closer. “Merlin, Hermione. I told you last night. I just felt like I was letting you all down.”

“Mhm,” was all she got in response before her best friend tilted her head back down to the parchment in front of her.

Y/N sat, completely puzzled. What was Hermione on about? She’d been straightforward with what was hurting her--she didn’t want to mess up the only task the Golden Trio had ever given her--and, even if she hadn’t been, Hermione was smart enough to deduce things for herself. So what was she thinking about?

Her eyes drifted over to the Slytherin table where the usual 6th year pureblood gang loitered about, drinking black coffee and sulking--but Malfoy was not to be seen. She jumped when her eyes met Parkinson, her dark eyes burning into her soul as a deep scowl was written across her face.

“Malfoy, what the fuck do you want?” Ron’s voice pulled her back to reality to see him glaring somewhere behind her.

“I wasn’t here to talk to you,” a familiar voice drawled.

She turned to see Malfoy standing behind her, a sneer written all across his stupidly pretty face.

“Miss me already?” asked Y/N as she raised an eyebrow and cocked her head to the side.

“For fuck’s sake, stop doing that,” he mumbled, reaching into his pocket and throwing a box at her. “You forgot your quill. I took the liberty of properly storing it, because it seems like you lot like to just throw them in your bag. Makes me physically ill to watch.”

“Oh.” Y/N studied the intricate box in her hands before tucking it away in her knapsack. “Thanks? I guess?”

He nodded curtly, contorting his face into one last scowl to send to Ron before turning and leaving,

“So,” Hermione began, cutting her omelet at a much brisker pace, “I think we need to have a little chat. About...all of this.”

“Why?”

“Not right now,” she said, her voice low and her eyes flicking at Ron and Harry sitting across from them. “I don’t think it’d benefit us for them to hear.”

“Ok?” She cautiously took a bite out of her toast and continued staring Hermione down. “You’re scaring me.”

“It’s...I don’t know. I thought I was crazy for thinking this, but it seems like we need to talk about it anyways. For this little mission of yours to work, we need to be totally open and honest with each other.”

“Sure.” Y/N took another bite. “I honestly have no clue what’s got you so on edge, though.”

“Who’s on edge?” Harry asked, leaning over the table and stealing the croissant on Y/N’s plate.

“Hey!” she exclaimed. “Do you not see the entire plate of them over there?”

He laughed, sending her an easy grin and dunking a piece into the hot chocolate in his mug. “Finders keepers. Say, Y/N, are you busy next weekend? Ron and Lavender are going to Madame Puddingfoot’s together, and I know Hermione isn’t going to want to take a weekend off studying to go to Hogsmeade, so I thought that maybe we could go cause some trouble at the Cauldron.”

“If you stop stealing my food we can talk about it,” replied Y/N, the corners of her lips tugging up into a grin.

“Deal.”

Hermione tugged at her arm. “I just realized I need to get something out of my room before we watch the Quidditch game. Will you come with me, Y/N?”

“Sure!” said Y/N. “Gee, I’m rolling in invitations today.”

Once they exited the dining hall, though, it immediately became evident that they were not actually heading up to the dorms. Hermione dragged her into the nearest bathroom before casting a quick silencing charm.

“Myrtle! Are you in here?” Only when she was sure silence was the only response to her question, she seemed satisfied to turn to Y/N and begin talking. “When were you going to tell me that you have a thing for Malfoy?”

“I’m sorry, what?” Y/N felt the heat that had risen to her cheeks from the last quill-encounter re-emerge.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” said Hermione. “Are you seriously going to expect me to believe that you nearly sobbed over some random pureblood git telling you you never had a chance with him because it might slow down your progress with helping us? Actually? I’ve seen you look more ecstatic about hearing that your dear granny passed away.”

“To be fair, she had really good life insurance,” Y/N cut in. “And she was an old hag. Never had a nice thing to say to me.”

“Life insurance or no life insurance...you can’t seriously expect me to believe that you were just upset about not being able to help us as much. That was ridiculous. I don’t buy it. And the way you blushed like crazy when he came over to talk to you--the way you try and pretend like you can flirt...please. Y/N, it’s clear as day. I know you, and I know you have a crush on him.”

“Hermione!” hissed Y/N. “You have no clue what you’re talking about!”

“Yes, I think I do,” she pushed. “And you need to be honest with me if you want to be of any help right now.”

Her bossiness lit a fire of rage in Y/N’s chest, but she sucked in a deep breath, shutting her eyes before releasing it. “Believe me when I say I haven’t ever acknowledged any feelings I may or may not have towards him.”

“Ok.” Her face softened. “I know it might take time, but I honestly do think I’m right. Please just...be careful. This is a really odd situation to get caught up in if you actually have feelings for the other person. You’re trying to manipulate him, for Merlin’s sake.”

“And if I have these feelings for him, I’ve done a pretty damn good job of suppressing them for however long they’ve been here.”

Hermione sighed. “That’s true. I’m just saying that spending this much time with him is probably only going to make things worse. Will you please tell me if anything changes between the two of you?”

“Anything changes?” Y/N’s voice was dripping in disbelief. “You’re joking. Even if I was obsessed with him I don’t think there’s ever a chance of hell in anything ‘changing’ between us. He said it himself.”

“You know what I mean, Y/N,” responded Hermione. “Just promise me, ok?”

“Ok,” said Y/N. “I promise.”

That seemed to satiate Hermione as she nodded approvingly at her friend. “I think it goes without saying that Ron and Harry shouldn’t hear about this.”

“There’s nothing to hear about, but yes.” She shuffled her feet before meeting Hermione’s eyes again. “Er, I’m sorry for this being a weird question, but would you mind coming along with me and Harry to Hogsmeade? I don’t really see him like...that...and I don’t want to read into it too much and reject him if he is doing it just platonically, but just in case. Y’know.”

“Sure,” said Hermione, even though her face took on that curious expression yet again. “Anyways, you actually did forget something--you’re not wearing a single piece of Gryffindor colors for our game today. You should probably run back to your dorm before Harry and Ron notice.”

After they said their goodbyes, Y/N found herself turning over the things Hermione had said to her in her head. Did she like Malfoy? No, no fucking way. But a part of her really did think he was funny. And of course it was natural to feel rejected when anyone insinuates that they’d never consider you as a romantic interest without jest.

Once she’d made it up to her room and grabbed a few scarves, Y/N made to put her red cloak into her satchel. Her fingers ghosted over the box that Malfoy had given her and scoffed once she saw the Malfoy crest engraved into the rich wood.

Narcissistic snot.

Her curiosity got the better of her as she reached over to open up the elaborately decorated box. What met her was not just one quill but two--one of which was most certainly not her own.

She took them both out, tossing the old one in a pile with her other trusty familiar white feather quills and picked up the other one. It looked familiar--identical to the quill that she’d complimented Malfoy on in Potions about a week ago. Butterflies began to flutter like crazy in her stomach as she turned it over in her hand, watching the gray and green glitter together and the magic sparkles cast a gentle light over her bed. She generally avoided dipping into her family’s pockets to get school supplies any more than she had to--it’s not like it made her friends feel good about themselves when they were reminded how rich her family was--but this might be what she could consider to be an exception. She hadn’t even liked his quill all that much when she first saw it in Potions--but it was one of those things that was so noticeable that it made sense to compliment him.

She gave it one last look before tucking it back away into the elaborately decorated box. Perhaps she had spoken too soon when she’d told Hermione all hope was lost.

When Monday morning Potions class with the Slytherins rolled around, Y/N wasted no time. Malfoy was alone--even his Slytherin lackeys seemed to know not to bother him. Just what she needed.

“Malfoy,” she greeted, setting her bag down on his table and looking him dead on. He raised to meet her eyes, his eyebrow raised.

“Can I help you?”

“I just wanted you to know that I also really like your immense fortune,” she said. “And your manor.”

“Well, a lot of people do,” he mumbled as he looked away to dig through something in his bag. If she didn’t know any better, she would’ve thought he was blushing.

“I’m just letting you know,” she continued. “In case you were wanting to give them away. It worked for the quill, so I thought, well, why not?”

He exhaled, a deep and annoyed sound escaping his lips as he rolled his eyes up to the ceiling. “I knew I shouldn’t have done that.”

“You really didn’t have to.”

“I was getting sick of it,” he told her. “I never can stick with one quill for too long, and I thought it’d be a shame to toss it. I thought it’d be better to be charitable--it’s not like your family could get an appointment at Barnaby’s if they tried.”

“Hey!” Y/N said indignantly. “You don’t know that!”

“I’ve heard your parents try to speak French,” he said. “If you’re anything like them, you'll be barred from ever entering the country.”

“Malfoy!”

His lips turned up into a smile, a soft laugh escaping his lips. Y/N suppressed the urge to grin in return. Task 3? Done. “What?”

“I can’t even argue with you,” she said. “It’s tragic.”

She stared at the empty stool next to him, wondering if she should just take the leap and sit with him. Malfoy seemed unbothered by her presence as he opened up his Potions book and set it next to his cauldron. “Do you want a partner?” The words left her lips before she could stop them.

He cast her a curious look before glancing at the empty stool. “It depends. Are you going to be annoying?”

She gasped in faux-offense. “What makes you think I could ever be annoying?”

“On that note, I think you better get back to Potter.” He motioned with his head towards the side of the room where most of her Gryffindor friends were chatting. Harry was staring at her, his fists clenched by his side.

Y/N smirked and sent him a wink.

“On that note,” she said, careful to imitate Malfoy’s drawl and sending him a smug grin, “Maybe I better sit here.”

“Hm.” He awarded her one more uninterested look before rolling up his sleeves and setting out the ingredients for the potion they were brewing--Amortentia.

She tried not to make it too obvious that she was staring at his left arm, but there was nothing on it like Harry had told her. It was just pure, unblemished pale skin that shimmered under the light. Before he could catch her looking, she quickly sat down and started pulling out her own things. After a short pause, she decided to take out the silver quill. She’d left his box back in her room--she wouldn’t be caught dead with something that had the Malfoy crest on it--but she’d wrapped it in a pouch with her own family’s emblem on the front, shimmering in gold and red.

“Why don’t you just buy your own charmed quills?” asked Malfoy after they had chopped all of the gillweed.

“You already know. We’re an abomination to the French. We aren’t allowed entry.”

“That’s not what I mean.” His tone was meant to read as exasperated, but his words still seemed good-natured.

“I...well.” She frowned. She’d never confessed this to anyone, but she supposed that Malfoy wasn’t going to find a way to use it against her. “I don’t like to flaunt my family wealth. I think it makes people, at least in Gryffindor, like me less. I learned that pretty early on.”

He hummed something in response before sliding all the gillweed into the cauldron, turning the clear liquid into a bubbling forest green.

“Why are you being so nice to me all of a sudden?” she asked.

He took his time finishing the note he was jotting down before he answered. “I’m not being nice. It’s just called being civil. You said it yourself, we see each other at balls sometimes.”

“We probably won’t anymore, though,” she mused.

Malfoy’s eyebrows shot up, but his voice remained low and steady. “No. I suppose that we probably won’t. Is your family part of the Order?”

“Hm. Are you a Death Eater?” she asked brazenly. He had no business asking her something like that, and he knew it. Especially not with his family connections.

“What do you think?” he drawled, waving his bared left arm in front of her face.

“Bullshit. That doesn’t mean anything after we learned Glamour spells last year.”

“Guess you’ll just have to trust me, then,” he responded, focusing intently on the bubbling liquid in front of him instead of her face.

“I guess so,” she replied. The weight of her Glamour comment began to sink in--she was right, after all. How had she not thought of it before?

But he was right when he told her she just had to trust him. Could she? Y/N rested her chin in the palm of her propped hand as she watched him work. A piece of disobedient moonbeam blonde hair dangled over his forehead as he diced up the unicorn tail, his eyebrows furrowed in focus.

“Is this why you want to be my partner?” he finally asked after a few moments of silence. “So you can just stare at me while I do all the work?”

“There’s the vain Draco I know,” she said, grinning as she leaned over to punch his shoulder.

He rolled his eyes again, scooting out of arm's reach before flipping back to Amortentia in his book. “You’re insufferable. And it’s Malfoy to you.”

“Fine, fine, Malfoy,” said Y/N. “What do you want me to do, then?”

He shoved his cutting board towards her, the half-diced unicorn tail staring up at her. “Finish dicing this and then stir it in. 9 times clockwise. I did almost all of the work, but it should be finished after that.”

Y/N sent him another glare before doing as he said. The glittering quill kept catching her attention from the corner of her eye, and she couldn’t help but notice that Malfoy was writing with just a plain white quill for the time being. HE really did just give it to me.

After the final ingredients were diced, she began to stir, each rotation around the cauldron turning the potion to a different color. It began as the bubbling green, then a deep sea blue, then a royal purple, a crimson blood red, a glimmering gold--before settling into a pale silver.

“Wow. It’s beautiful,” she breathed. “It’s like...liquid starlight.”

“All thanks to me,” said Malfoy. “You didn’t even have to crush the Mandrake root.”

“You’re such a gentleman, Malfoy.” Her voice dripped in fake sincerity. “So, what do you smell?”

Y/N was expecting him to scowl at her and tell her that it wasn’t any of her business, but he actually leaned over the cauldron and shut his eyes.

“I’ve never been good at explaining what things smell like.”

“Fair.”

Once he leaned back, she took his place, shutting her eyes and breathing in a tendril of the beautiful potion. “Whoa.”

“What’s it for you?”

“I don’t...know,” she admitted. “It’s not something I can describe note by note. It kind of reminds me of something, though.”

“Something with Potter, I presume?” he said, casually twirling his generic white quill around his fingers.

“No,” she answered, surprised at how honest she was being. “It’s…I’m trying to think. Er, it’s very lavish. It reminds me of when I was younger and my parents would drag me to galas and balls and whatnot.”

He stared at her in silence.

“What about you? Does it remind you of anything?”

“Yeah.” Malfoy reached forward to put a lid on the cauldron, effectively shutting out the steam from reaching either of them.

“Ooh, have you figured it out yet?” she teased, crossing her legs and turning to face him head on. “Let me guess. Is it someone like…”

She paused, a wicked smile stretching across her face. “Oh my god, is it Hermione? Or Luna? Or...help me out here!”

“No.” His voice was sour.

“Ah, it’s Parkinson then, isn’t it? Tell her I’m sorry for throwing food at her if you ever have the chance. Make sure to add the part where I’m more sorry that I missed.”

“Y/L/N!”

“It’s okay. I’d be a little let down, too.”

“Can you please just…” He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Please just stop. I haven’t figured it out. Okay? Happy now?”

“I’ll leave you alone,” said Y/N. “Under one condition. You give me a hint. I’ve given you everything I know! This isn’t fair.”

“This doesn’t have to be fair,” he hissed.

Y/N kept the easy smile plastered on her face while she waited, her eyebrows raised in anticipation.

“You’re not going to let up until I tell you, are you?”

“You’d be right on that,” she said, sugary sweet.

“Fine. It’s something kind of floral.”

“How descriptive,” she snorted as she slumped back in her stool, thinking hard. Where had she smelled it before? Y/N shut her eyes, leaning her head back and trying to immerse herself into the memory that had surfaced. It smelled like grandeur, like an open ballroom full of guests wearing expensive perfumes. She could feel spinning, spinning like she was with a dance partner. Who was it? She couldn’t quite remember--the last ball she’d been to had been years ago--but after she leaned forward and smelled the Amortentia once more time, she came to a conclusion.

“I had to have danced with him at a gala before,” she announced to Malfoy, who was looking quite unimpressed. “So I know it’s no one from Gryffindor.”

“Interesting,” was all he said before turning to his parchment and jotting something down.

Late that night, while Y/N was settling into bed, a strange idea struck her. Sure that the thought that was nagging her was completely fruitless, she had no trouble with reaching into her desk and pulling out the Malfoy box. She just had to check if she wanted to sleep well.

Here goes.

She closed her eyes, imagining the expensive scent of her Amortentia. Then she opened it, stuck her nose into the fabric, and breathed in.

Well, fuck.

The internal debate going through Y/N the next day at the breakfast table was intense. On one hand, she really, really wanted to just tell Hermione that Malfoy had been in her Amortentia and she was completely fucked, but on the other…

She glanced at the witch next to her as she methodically sliced her toast into perfect, equivalent squares before dunking them in jam. Y/N liking Malfoy was not going to fit into her toast cubes. If she said anything, she would lose her excuse to talk to her about him. And her excuse to try and get close with him.

Perhaps I can figure it out tomorrow.

When tomorrow came, she still hadn’t made progress. Y/N was beginning to think that her so called “revelation” after they brewed Amortentia was truly just complete and utter bullshit. So what that his quill box smelled like it--all rich people kind of smelled the same at some points, and so did their houses. There was a reason why she couldn’t immediately pin the scent to anything--it wasn’t like she even knew what Malfoy smelled like.

But the truth remained that she was still attracted to someone who happened to be a rich Slytherin--so naturally, her mind began to wander. There’s no way it was Zabini--his mother owned a fragrance line, and she would’ve instantly recognized the cologne that she knew Mrs. Zabini made him wear--and there was absolutely no way that it was Crabbe or Goyle, so the only other Slytherin it left was...Nott? But that didn’t make sense either--she’d never spoken to him before in her life, even less than Malfoy. So perhaps it would be better if she didn’t think on it.

The next day of potion brewing came on a stormy Wednesday. Malfoy and Y/N worked silently together to brew a Draught of Dreamless Sleep. She was surprised to see how practiced his movements were--he didn’t even have to reference the book to recite the exact measurements and directions.

“Do you have bad dreams or something?” she asked, mostly as a joke. He didn’t seem to pick up on the light-heartedness and stiffened up.

“No?”

“Gee, you’re talkative today,” Y/N said, trying to ignore how her hand brushed his by accident when she added the scoop of anjelica.

“Excuse me for not entertaining you,” he drawled. “I wasn’t expecting to have such a needy potions partner today.”

“I am not needy!” she gasped, smacking his arm. “I’ve sat in silence for a full hour!”

He rolled his eyes (he was always rolling his eyes) and gave the potion one more final stir before setting the lid on the cauldron. “Think you can do that again? It needs to simmer for that long.”

“Just because you’re so sweet to me,” crooned Y/N before pulling out a heavy book from her satchel. Her Charms exam was tomorrow, and, naturally, she had decided to save all of her revising work until the night before. The textbook stared back at her as she jotted a few notes onto a previously blank sheet of parchment. The quill in her hands was light and glided across the paper like the tears of Merlin, something that she had forgotten quills could do. All of her familiar basic quills were okay, but they were prone to skidding and breaking. This nib hadn’t worn down in the slightest, still at a smooth and defined peak.

Y/N couldn’t believe that, out of all people, the person to give her such a thoughtful gift was Draco Malfoy. She tried to sneak a glance at him then, moving her curtain of hair away from her face. It took all she had in her to not be startled at the fact that he was already looking back, a slightly concerned expression etched into his face.

“Is something wrong?”

He snapped out of it the moment the words left her lips, his face hardening. “No.”

“Forget I ever asked,” she responded, turning away from him for good and focusing on her textbook. No, there was no way he could be what she smelled in her Amortentia. She liked to think that her subconscious wasn’t secretly a masochist.

Friday evening swung around again, much to Y/N’s dismay. She’d had a talk with Hermione later on in the week, confirming that no, she did not smell Malfoy in her Amortentia, and that yes, she was still abiding by the plan that Hermione had so carefully laid out for her. It did bother her a bit that she could be lying to her on both fronts--but at the end of the day, she was going to get the answers that Harry wanted, no matter what.

She just had to get through the scary ass castle first. She’d forgotten how spooky Hogwarts was after her previous sprint to the door, and this time she was positively trembling by the time she turned another dark corner on her way to McGonagall’s office. Yet another cursed item had been found in the girl’s lavatory on the 3rd floor, right by some of the classes that she had taken earlier in the week. The fact that whoever was out there was capable of dark magic and actively wanted to hurt people terrified her, all that Gryffindor bravery be damned.

So when she heard footsteps suddenly right beside her, it was no wonder that she jumped feet in the air.

“Fuck!” she sputtered, turning to see a very familiar blonde in Slytherin robes. He was frozen in place, curiously looking her up and down.

“Am I interrupting something?”

“Malfoy,” Y/N said, resisting the urge to melt into a puddle of relief at the sight. This wasn’t right--wasn’t he a suspected Death Eater? “You scared me.”

He scoffed, digging his hands into his pockets. “You’re supposed to be the brave ones, right?”

“Huh?”

Malfoy motioned to her Gryffindor jumper.

“Oh.” Heat rushed to her cheeks as she realized what he meant. “I dunno. I just get jumpy around the castle at night.”

“No shit.” They’d begun to walk now, side by side. Y/N couldn’t remember ever walking with him before--she’d always been late. “Do you think I forgot the way you screamed when you saw me at the tower?”

“Shut up,” she grumbled, reaching over and giving him a healthy shove.

They walked in silence together. Malfoy moved noticeably slower than he normally did so he wouldn’t leave Y/N’s shorter legs in tow. McGonagall seemed pleasantly surprised to see Malfoy hold the door open for her.

“I’m glad to see you two getting along,” she said, giving Y/N a hesitant nod before grabbing the stack of papers on her desk. “I’ll be back momentarily.”

After she exited the room with a swish of her deep maroon robes, Malfoy turned to her. “Are you scared of the dark or something?”

She turned, ready to send a biting retort his way, before she noticed how gray his pallor looked...and how big the circles under his eyes were. “You look like shit, Malfoy. Is everything okay?”

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t change the subject.”

“Oh. Um…” Y/N pause before deciding that the little tidbit of information she was about to reveal wasn’t that important anyways. “I’m just on edge at night at Hogwarts is all. Especially with all that weird shit going on with all the cursed objects. So I kind of hate walking to and from detention.”

Malfoy let out something that sounded like a strained laugh.

“You didn’t answer my question. Is everything okay?”

“None of your business,” he snipped. “I just had a bad night.”

“Do you have trouble sleeping?” she asked, unable to keep herself from prying.

“Something like that.”

“Have you tried lavender?”

“I’m sorry?” He frowned.

“Lavender. Like the essential oil. It’s nothing magical,” she explained. “I just like to spray it in my bed sometimes before I sleep. Or I’ll use a few drops in a diffuser. I have trouble sleeping too, all the time, actually.” She shut her mouth before she had any chance to ramble further.

“It sounds a bit too floral for my taste.”

“Here.” Y/N dug around in her satchel, searching for the tiny spray bottle she kept with her at all times. “Borrow this and spritz your pillow with it before you sleep, and then tell me it’s too floral. I promise it helps.”

He glared at her. She extended her hand with the white bottle that was covered in purple decor, raising her eyebrows expectantly. “I won’t tell anyone that you have it if that’s what you’re worried about or whatever.”

“Fine,” he snapped, snatching it from her hand and dragging his fingers over her palm for just a second. “Don’t expect me to actually try it, though.”

“Just give it a sniff.”

He huffed, but to her surprise, he actually uncapped the top and held the spray hole up to his nose, inhaling in once.

The effect was immediate. Malfoy’s face completely drained of color, becoming even grayer than he’d been when she first saw him under the light. The briefest expression of surprise fleeted over his face before he wiped it off, replacing it with something unreadable and tossing it back at her. “I’m not using this.”

“Why not?”

“Not quite my taste,” he spat.

Y/N was shocked by the sudden outburst, watching as he continued to glower at his desk. “I don’t understand. It really does help you sleep. I know it seems stupid, but I...really think you should try it. Just once, if anything.”

“Why does it matter so much to you?”

“Because I--” Y/N stopped herself before she let her mouth run without check. “I know what it’s like is all. I feel like shit if I don’t sleep. Plus, I have to spend time with you every Friday. I imagine that you’ll be slightly more tolerable if you sleep more.”

“Hm.” He sent her a particularly venomous glare. “Thanks for your concern. Consider me uninterested, though.”

“You break my heart,” she teased, pulling back her hand and placing the bottle on the corner of her desk. An idea struck her.

“And just what are you smiling about?” Draco said. His lips were turned into a sour frown.

“Nothing, nothing,” she responded, her voice adopting a sing-song quality. All she had to do now was wait.

He exhaled, a deep and exasperated sound. Then he turned back to whatever was in front of him.

McGonagall entered the room a few minutes later, nodding cordially at the comfortable silence the two students were in. What she didn’t know was that Y/N was waiting, just waiting for Malfoy to dig through his satchel and stop paying attention to his quill.

She got her opportunity a few minutes later, when McGonagall called him up to look over his latest Transfiguration homework.

“Mr. Malfoy, I’m happy to see that you’re taking more initiative in getting your assignments done...I have to say that you had me a bit concerned…”

While her professor kept Malfoy occupied, Y/N darted over and grabbed his quill.

Ha.

Malfoy frowned down at his desk when he returned, giving Y/N a suspicious look.

“What is it, Malfoy?” she said, hoping her voice conveyed nothing that might hint that she took something of his.

“Nothing.”

“Hm.”

The rest of detention passed without any more discussion. Y/N was eager to run up to her dorm and set up her plan to be carried out the next morning, but she calmed her bouncing leg and forced herself to keep a straight face when McGonagall dismissed them.

“Got somewhere to be, Y/L/N?” Malfoy’s voice called after her as she sped down the hall towards the Gryffindor tower.

“What’s it to you?” she fired back.

He didn’t respond. Instead, he picked up his pace until he was walking next to her.

“Aren’t the Slytherin dorms the other direction?” she asked.

“I don’t know. Are they?”

She allowed herself to be amused by the way words flowed out of his mouth when he was slightly out of breath. “Why are you walking with me?”

“You said it yourself.” He kept his eyes cast on the cobblestones below them. “You don’t like walking alone at night.”

“Uh...oh.” Against her will, her feet froze and she was glued to the ground. “You’re joking, right?”

If the lighting wasn’t so dim, Y/N would have good reason to believe he was blushing with how intently he was studying his fingernails. “By all means, I can be.”

“No! No, I didn’t mean it like that,” she said, the words tumbling out of her mouth. “Er...I’d like you to. If you want to, that is.”

He shrugged, an elfish expression spreading across his face as he took in how nervous she was. “Well, come to think of it, you didn’t ask me to. I suppose I better get back to the Slytherin dorms anyways. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere near the Gryffindor Tower right now.”

“Why?” she squeaked.

“Oh, you know, I don’t think it’s a coincidence that most of the cursed things showed up on your side of the castle, yeah?”

She gulped.

“I gotta get going. Don’t want to stand around here too long. This place gives me the creeps.” With that, he turned and began walking away.

“Malfoy?” She hated how timid her voice sounded. “Consider this me asking you to walk with me.”

He slowly faced her, a sly grin plastered all over his face. “Oh? Did I hear that correctly? Do you want me to?”

“I’m only going to say this once,” she said, putting her hands on her hips and trying her best to look intimidating. “Walk with me. Please.”

“I guess I’ll take it.” Malfoy glided down the hallway to her in just a couple steps, sending her yet another smug look.

“You made up that whole ordeal about Gryffindor Tower being targeted, didn’t you?” asked Y/N as they rounded the corner to reach the staircase leading up to the common room.

“You bought it, didn’t you?”

“Who says I didn’t just want you to walk with me?” pushed Y/N. This was as close to flirting as it would ever get for her--but it looked like, somehow, things were falling into place. The heat in her cheeks must’ve been from the excitement of making progress.

Malfoy’s toe caught on the first stair and, if it weren’t for Y/N’s steady grip on his arm, would’ve made him go sprawling across the stone steps.

“Merlin, Malfoy,” she said, immediately dropping her grip from his shoulder. “What’s gotten into you?”

He responded with an unceremonial snort and a withering glare. The rest of the walk was done in silence, and Y/N noted how careful his footwork became around the Gryffindor steps.

“This is me,” she finally said once they reached the tapestry for the Gryffindor dorms. He seemed surprised, and only then did it strike her that he’d probably never seen the entrance himself before. “Thanks for being such a gentleman.”

“I live to serve,” he drawled.

And just like that, he was gone.

Her plan was simple. She had located an extra monogrammed pouch in her cabinet, a rich mahogany color with her family crest in a vivid gold, and placed both his quill and the lavender bottle. She would corner him after breakfast or follow him out of the Great Hall and show him then.

However, it was becoming increasingly obvious that Malfoy was not coming to Saturday morning breakfast. Many people didn’t, but Y/N had never known him to miss it. His normal spot was vacant, and it certainly wasn’t a house-made decision as all of his Slytherin friends were present and accounted for. Y/N couldn’t say for sure, but she could see Parkinson turning her head to the entrance every time the doors thudded open before glancing back to Malfoy’s empty seat when it turned out to be someone else.

Where was that loser?

“Excuse me,” she said to the trio as she stood up and brushed off her skirt. “I think I’m going to go get some fresh air. I have a bitch of a headache.”

Hermione and Harry expressed their sympathies while Ron gave her a characteristic mumble through his mouthful of bread, and she was off with the pouch secured in her cloak pocket.

It was a clear November morning, clearly Mother Nature’s attempt to slowly move the world from the crisp autumn to a cold winter. The sky was clear and the sun’s rays warmed her skin at a slanted angle, casting weak shadows across the courtyard.

If I were Malfoy, where would I go to sulk?

The obvious answer was either the Slytherin common room or his own dorm, but that was without a doubt out of question for her. She wasn’t even sure if she possessed the knowledge to guess which corridor the entrance was in, much less work out the password herself. Beyond that, just getting into the common room and waiting would be...She shivered. It would be a terrible idea while she was clearly wearing a cloak in Gryffindor red and gold trim.

As she continued her aimless wander around the castle, she heard the slightest sound from the girl’s bathroom on the second floor. It wasn’t ever really in use--no one came in there to actually use the loo unless they wanted Myrtle to materialize and tell them her supernatural troubles while they were in the middle of their personal business--but it was often the source of strange happenings.

Like the cursed objects she thought to herself, her nails digging into her palms. But did she care about that right now? Surely cursed objects seemed somewhat...suspicious. Dark magic was difficult to hide, and to a pureblood eye that grew up around magical objects, cursed things shouldn’t be impossible to spot.

And, plus, it was Malfoy she was looking for. None of the students had died from the curses so far, and if she was able to break through and learn something, or at the very least gain his trust, the reward to the Order would be more than worth it.

She stepped in, expecting to see an entirely empty bathroom with perhaps a ghost rattling around at the sink. Instead, a different sight awaited her.

Draco Malfoy was clutching the edge of the cracked sink basin in front of him, rocking himself back and forth and shaking. From her vantage point, she could see that he was dressed in his normal garb--a black ensemble--but his hair was unruly and messy, sticking up in the back like he’d hurriedly tugged something over his head.

A strangled gasp grounded her and halted her curious observations. Malfoy began to make these awful sobbing sounds, like he could barely manage to breathe.

Y/N was frozen in place as she surveyed her options. If she stayed and tried to talk to him, he might react in anger or hurt her. But if she just left him, like this, all alone...She swallowed once before stepping forward.

“Malfoy? Are you okay?” Obviously he’s not, you bint said a voice deep in her brain. She pushed it aside as he swung around, his wand raised and his eyes blazing. “Whoa! I’m not going to...Put your wand down!”

He stared at her, his eyes wide with horror as he continued to shake, so much so that his wand slipped out of his hand and clattered to the floor. Without thinking, Y/N reached into her pocket and flung her wand away, holding her hands up.

“I’m not going to try anything. I promise.”

As she drew closer, she could see the remnants of tears on his wet cheeks and the way that his silver eyes were rimmed with a bloodshot red.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he hissed, his voice weak and cracking.

“Neither should you. This is the girl’s bathroom.”

final a/n: ok so lmk if you guys wants me to continue. i really did not edit the last half fjkdsal;f also kinda made this an au where malfoy tried to assassinate dumbledore. with more than one cursed object but dw it’ll all make sense ill clear that up 😭

#draco malfoy #draco x reader #draco malfoy x reader #draco imagine #draco malfoy imagine #draco x you #draco #draco malfoy x you #draco x y/n #draco malfoy x y/n #draco x oc #draco malfoy x oc

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anime-alyssa · 3 years

Text

genshin boys valentine’s headcanons!

figured i’d be at least a little festive. these are kind of long so sorry sdkfsdfsd gonna put a read more. implied spice but not graphic - and i’m pretty sure i for once in my life kept it gender neutral so go me

these were kind of hard to do since i dont do hc’s really, i make fics and yall can for sure tell where i started to struggle skfsdfsd

they are also on ao3 so do not be alarmed

Diluc:

He’d be acting like he didn’t give a shit about valentine’s day but this mf is a softie

Thinking he didn’t care, you’d offer to just stay in for the day or something

Honestly as long as it was just the two of you, you don’t really care

“What? No, we’re going out to dinner. I already planned it.”

You were really surprised, since he hadn’t voiced an opinion on the holiday before

To him this year was different - you were married, so he assumes it should be a bigger deal

You dressed up in your favorite outfit and met him at Angel’s Share later that day and you swear you saw his jaw drop to the floor

He regained his composure before he could tease you about it, taking you to dinner as promised

He held your hand from across the table and listened to you ramble about whatever

You’d try to ask him things, but he’d shake you off, not wanting to talk about himself

Nothing was out of the ordinary, just a normal dinner

Until the walk home, when he pulled out a present for you

“I had this made for you.”

A necklace made out of a Crystal core, melted into the Pyro symbol like his vision

You started to get weepy as he put it on, pressing a kiss to your temple and wrapping his arms around your middle to embrace you

You turned back around to kiss him on the lips

After that he couldn’t get you home fast enough

You thanked the archons that everyone else at the WInery was home for the night

Namely because he fucked you right against the door once you got him

And on the reception desk

….. And the table

Kaeya:

Listen, this man dotes on you

We all know Kaeya is the romantic type to the max so this is his day

He wakes you up by kissing up your body and making you orgasm

After that, he has to go in and work for a little bit

You don’t really mind, he gave you a bag of Mora and told you to buy something nice because he’s taking you to Liyue for a few days

He plans on celebrating for days, apparently

“We have a lot to celebrate, don’t we? It’s been quite a year.”

Well, he wasn’t wrong about that

When you get to Liyue, immediately your taken out to dinner and told to order anything you wanted

You almost feel bad when you glance at the bill, saying it's not fair he did everything when it was supposed to be for both of you.

Later on that night, you and Kaeya walked around Liyue harbor together

“You didn’t have to do all this for me - really.”

He looked at you like you were crazy and smirked

“But I did.”

Imagine the look on your face when he got down on one knee

After you stopped crying, you somehow managed a yes

Once you get back to where you were staying, he was on you

Except now it’s time for you to show him how you feel

He doesn’t complain when you do

The reminder of your days in Liyue are spent in a similar fashion: eating and fucking

Childe:

He has it planned down to the second

When you woke up he was gone, making you upset

But when you walked out of the bedroom and saw the dozens of roses, all was forgiven

He left you a note, saying he’d be back shortly but to get ready to go out.

Once he was home, he found you and immediately embraced you

He was always one to shower you in compliments to begin with but today he was extra complimenting on everything about you

He planned the entire day around your favorite things to do, from going to the tea shop and to the bookstore

You tried to fit in something he liked to do, but he fought you

“I’m happy seeing you happy, you know that!”

God damn it, he made your heart melt

You got home that night and he cooked for you

And it was actually really, really good

He got you a few presents too, of course

Custom made jewelry, of course

You fell asleep on him that night, with his arms wrapped around you and your head on his chest

You had been cuddling for what felt like hours, exchanging loving kisses between conversation

You didn’t miss how he said he couldn’t wait till next year

Xiao:

Thinks that it’s incredibly dumb

“It’s a waste of time” he says

You get visibly sad, thinking now that you’re not gonna do anything for the whole day

You were gonna make him his favorite and everything, as a surprise

Now you’re just sad

Oh fuck oh fuck why are you upset red alert Xiao -

He asks Zhongli for advice, which isn’t any fucking good cause he tells him to show you how much he loves you

How the fuck does he do that?

He doesn’t know

He settles for trying to comfort you in his own way, cuddling with you and apologizing for being an ass

You accept, and offer to make Almond Tofu for the two of you, but he says he’ll make it instead

It isn’t very good, but the thought is what matters

He tried and that was enough for you

After dinner he gets very touchy

That damn Harbinger was with Zhongli, he mentioned this is also something women like

He wasn’t too keen to believe him, but the way you moaned just now made his dick twitch

The rest of the night he shows you just how much he really loves you

Albedo:

You didn’t think he knew that Valentine’s Day existed, honestly

Imagine your surprise when he woke you up with flowers, and saying he took the day off

…. But that you needed to go out for work first

You didn’t argue, he hardly ever took time off, so you’d go with him to get his supplies

Even if that meant you’d fucking freeze in Dragonspire

Once you got to his workstation in the mountain, he suggested a way to warm you up

Your heart skipped a beat, until he pulled out a warming potion

“What’s wrong? Drink it and you can be warm again.”

You drank it, and then explained what you had thought he meant

He laughed in your face, of course

“Don’t worry, that will come… after dinner.”

Now you were fidgeting with anticipation the rest of the damn night

(that was also something that didn’t happen to often, damn workaholic)

He started to notice at Angel’s Share, but you blamed it on the Dandelion Wine

He saw right through you, but of course made it up later that night

Right before you were about to go to sleep, you felt him slip something on your finger

It was a ring - obviously handmade. It glowed a pretty yellow color, much like his vision

“Happy Valentine’s, my love.”

Zhongli:

He doesn’t quite understand what the big deal is

“Why is there a day dedicated to love? I say it everyday, right?”

He thinks it's just a consumer-made holiday

Which it is, obviously

But god damn it you just want your boyfriend to treat you to fucking dinner

Even if it’s just Grilled Tiger Fish, that would suffice considering the former Archon never remembers his damn Mora

You thought you had died when he walked you into the finest restaurant in Liyue

You refused to order until you had proof he had Mora on him

He agreed with a laugh and showed you that he had plenty

He had arranged the table himself, apparently, moving both chairs next to each other

This was so he could hold you throughout the evening, make sure you were okay

And whisper raunchy things into your ear while you tried to watch the entertainment like everyone else

For someone who didn’t understand the hype he was feeding into it quite a bit

He may be ancient, but he still had game

By the time you were done, your thighs were red from you rubbing them together

You tried to make it into the bedroom, but he was quicker than you were

He called the rest of the night getting his Mora’s worth

Scaramouche:

“You’re kidding me? You care about that?”

You should have known that would be the reaction, honestly

After begging hard enough, he agrees to dinner

You claim he gave in, he claims he was going to do it anyway

(he gave in)

He spent almost the whole time irritated that everyone was lovey-dovey

“Scara, that’s how it is today. We look like the odd ones out.”

He couldn’t have any of that, so he moved his chair next to yours and ate with one arm around your shoulder the rest of the time

You dragged him around to do things that you saw other couples doing

You know, like holding hands and going for walks, eating some street food

Couple things

He was quiet for most of the night, humoring you

You saw a nice necklace that you wanted while you were walking, but was offput by the price

They wanted how much Mora for that?!

You were eating a snack when Scaramouche walked away, saying he’d be back

A few minutes later, he clasped the necklace around your neck

“I don’t want to hear it. Isn’t that the whole point of the holiday? Buying shit for your partner?”

You tried to tell him it wasn’t just that, but he shut you up with some kisses

When you got home, he shut you up with more than just kisses

“This is what I was looking forward to today.”

#diluc x reader #diluc ragnvindr x reader #kaeya x reader #kaeya alberich x reader #childe x reader #tartagila x reader #zhongli x reader #albedo x reader #scaramouche x reader #xiao x reader

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enviedear · 4 years

Text

liability → draco malfoy

DESCRIPTION ⌙ in which y/n slips herself weak love potion daily to get through the wretched sadness she feels she can’t escape. in her mind, she’s a liability. and unbeknownst to her, draco malfoy feels the same.

PAIRING ⌙ draco x fem!reader

WORD COUNT ⌙ 3.2k

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

tw for depression ; something i have so please know i understand if you’re going through it. my messages are always open if you need a friend. be good to yourself and if this may trigger you pls don’t read it. all the love, olivia <3

pls enjoy this angst, and also please ignore the science behind love potions in this fic.

after cedric had been killed, life for you wasn’t the same. the two of you were the best of friends. you did absolutely everything together. cedric helped you be the very best you.

after him, life seemed grey, dull, and monotonous. you didn’t have anyone to talk to.

your friends pulled back from you and said they made a mistake thinking they could take you on, and you understood. some days you could be so happy and carefree and the very next minute you drifted into the dark abyss that was your mind. you were a little much, for everyone.

over the summer you began reading to take your mind off of cedric. well, not him, just what happened. you forced yourself to read every book in your home. from books about the stars, to poetry, to books on theories, and finally your textbooks.

it was one of the hottest days of summer when you came across the chapter on love potions. it gave you an idea. the chapter clearly stated that the drinker of the love potion would become infatuated with the person who gave it to them. who’s to say you couldn’t become infatuated with yourself.

of course you didn’t want to become a narcissus, so you brewed a very weak version.

it worked. for a whole day you were happy. you ate, laughed, and were so good to yourself. you were in love with the girl you were. you found yourself slow dancing alone, stroking your own cheek, being there for yourself.

of course, it didn’t last and by night time you were back to feeling all too much. the type of feeling where you’re silent and unmoving, the world a blur but your thoughts in a deathly focus.

it was that night you decided that you’d take a weak love potion everyday until your bad feelings went away on their own. you were tired of being the girl people pushed away because they didn’t understand.

so you did exactly that. your entire fifth year consisted of flying under umbridge’s radar. thanks to harry potter and the order, that proved easier than expected. no one suspected you.

now, you’re in sixth year. everyone is convinced you’re happy again and they don’t treat you like some sort of liability. of course, they don’t know that every night you cry and feel exactly like you did in fourth year. but that’s ok, you can handle the nights as long as the days are good. you find it to be a cycle now. in the mornings you take the potion and it’s almost like the best part of yourself fights the whole day to take care of you, but by night, she looses to the worst part of yourself.

“y/n would you like to go to hogsmeade today?” your friend, cece asks.

“i would love to, but i have to study for transfiguration.” you sigh, giving your friend a sorry look.

“ah it’s ok, you’re taking advanced this year. you’re right to study. mara and i will make sure to bring you back some things from honeydukes.”

you smile and thank your friend before making your way to the astronomy tower. cedric was the one to introduce you to studying here, and you never stopped.

you take a seat on the steps and begin studying multicorfors.

just as you were getting up to practice the spell, a body runs into you, causing the both of you to tumble to the floor.

you look to your side and spot draco malfoy, who, besides being herbology partners one year, you didn’t really talk to.

“are you okay, draco?” you ask, helping the boy off the floor.

he smoothes out his suit jacket, “yes, l/n.”

you scoff a bit and raise your eyebrows at him, “are you sure because it’s unlike you to stumble about. you’re just too good for that.”

draco glowers at you.

“okay i’m sorry. i didn’t want to be here anyway,” you gesture around the room, “the astronomy tower is now yours.”

he doesn’t say anything as you exit the room and you shrug it off.

‘as if draco malfoy could be pleasant’, you think to yourself, annoyed.

once you approach the hufflepuff common room you feel the effects of your potion begin to wear off. you curse yourself a little for not drinking enough potion to last you until dinner and decide to run by the kitchens to grab something before bed. there’s no way you can sit through dinner like this.

by the time you make it to your dorm room you feel heavy with thoughts. you curl into your bed crying and stare at the stone wall until you fall into a dreamless sleep. like most nights.

the next morning is a saturday and you wake up early, before your dorm mates, and grab the bottle of love potion under your bed, hidden in a locked trunk. you down the small bottle and watch it refill thanks to the spell you placed on it, and put it back, hidden away.

you decide to head to breakfast early and grab a muffin to take with you to the astronomy tower. you need to master multicorfors before your test on tuesday.

a half hour into your practice, you’re doing the spell almost perfectly. though, changing your skirt into pants proves to be your downfall. you just can’t get it.

“i need the astronomy tower.” a voice says from behind you.

you turn to see draco malfoy, again wearing a fitted suit.

“you can study while i’m here draco.” you say pointedly.

“i don’t want to.” he scowls.

you roll your eyes, “then study elsewhere.”

“no. you can leave.”

“listen draco, i can argue with you all day, but i’m not moving until i’ve mastered multicorfors. so either you stay here with me or you go somewhere else.” you groan.

he doesn’t reply but takes a seat on the steps, taking out his wand and transfiguration book.

you smile to yourself, happy to win the argument, and go back to trying to change your skirt into a pair of pants.

“you’re too rigid with your movements, l/n.” draco tells you.

“can you show me then? i can’t figure it out.” you ask.

“no. just flick your wand more. it’s not that hard.” he says.

you give him a deadpan look, “please. this is the last part of the lesson i need to get. if you show me i can leave sooner.”

draco groans but gets up and walks over to you.

“give me your hand.” he instructs.

you do as you’re told and he grabs your hand, showing you the correct way to move your wand. his hand is warmer compared to yours and you like the way he warms you up. it’s also extremely soft, almost as if he’s never had a single callous.

“you have soft hands.” you tell him, grinning.

surprisingly draco lets out a small smile, “you’re supposed to be paying attention.”

“i can’t. you have baby soft hands.” you joke looking up at him.

“i just use lotion. you should try it sometime, your hands feel like a house elves’.” he teases.

you let out a deep laugh, “who knew draco malfoy was such a comedian?”

he feigns shock, “i made those hilarious ‘potter sticks’ badges back in fourth year for nothing then?”

you suck in a unnoticed breathe at the mention of fourth year before smiling,“okay i suppose that should have been a hint. but it was mean.”

draco and you continue to talk and practice transfiguration up until dinner. the time flying while the two of you are together.

“would you like to eat dinner up here? i can grab us some things from the kitchen.” you ask him, packing your bag up.

“i actually have something to do, but maybe some other time. let’s meet here again tomorrow though, i can help you with transfiguration.” he says.

“draco malfoy fraternizing with a muggle-born hufflepuff. tsk tsk.” you joke before agreeing and heading to dinner.

you don’t miss the eyeroll he gives you for that remark.

“where were you all day, y/n?” mara questions as you sit down beside her.

“astronomy tower. i was practicing transfiguration. you’ll never guess who ended up helping me either.” you beam, grabbing a plate for yourself.

“who helped you? i’m guessing cormac mclaggen, he seems to have a crush on you.” cece says.

your face contorts in disgust, “no, definitely not. that guy is a creep. it was malfoy actually, and he’s surprisingly funny.”

mara and cece give each other a look before mara speaks, “you do know people are saying he’s a deatheater, right?”

you roll your eyes, “malfoy is not a deatheater. i think a deatheater would oppose to helping a mudblood.”

your friends shrug and dinner continues on with normal conversation.

“cece and i are going to study in the library before bed if you want to join us.” mara says, grabbing her books.

“i’m okay, plus i’m super tired. i’ll see you at the dorm.” you smile, before parting with your friends.

slipping into your bed you begin to feel the come down of your potion. tonight your pain hurts even more than usual. you feel so trapped and can’t seem to catch your breath. you keep thinking back to the last time you had spoken to your best friend.

it was a week before the maze and he was sitting with you by black lake.

“y/n i promise you once i win, i’m taking you and cho to the fanciest restaurant i can find and we’ll all celebrate.” he had grinned, leaning against a tree.

you giggled and shoved him playfully before saying, “if you don’t win i’m still expecting that dinner.”

“i’ll win. i’ve been practicing so much.”

“i know, you barely ever have time to see me now.” you had sighed.

“y/n i’m sorry. i promise that after all of this is over, you and i are going to see each other everyday. i can’t live without you, kid. you’re my best friend.” he soothed, giving you a hug.

you had leaned into him, “forever?”

he laughed, “of course.”

that memory was etched in your brain. you knew it would never leave your mind.

you laid silently crying in your bed as your dorm mates entered to room, ready for bed. they said goodnight to each other before getting into their own beds, assuming you to be drifted off by now, and after a few minutes, their snores are the only sound in the room.

the emptiness of your being feels too much and you’re desperate to escape. you need air. you need something to remind you that you’re alive.

you quietly sneak out of your room, out of the common room, and up the stairs to the astronomy tower.

as you quickly enter the doorway of the tower, a body collides into yours, knocking you back a bit.

when you look up, tears falling out of your eyes, you’re greeted by teary grey ones. draco’s.

he sniffles and steadies himself before asking, “what’s wrong, l/n?”

you can’t seem to find the words. no one has asked you this question in years, and so much is wrong.

all you can do is cry harder.

“you have to breathe l/n. you’re going to upset yourself more, just breathe.” he says, voice breaking.

you try to calm down but nothing is helping. nothing feels real. cedric should still be here. you shouldn’t be this broken. life should be how it was. now it’s just too much.

“i hate it, draco.” you finally cry out.

he wipes the tears from his own eyes, “what do you hate, l/n. talk to me.”

“i hate that i haven’t been the same since fourth year. i hate that my best friend is gone. i hate that i have to worry that everyone around me is going to die, just because of some evil dark wizard. and i hate that i take fucking love potions everyday just to feel okay. i hate it all.” you breathe, finally.

draco raises his eyebrows, “you’ve been taking love potions?”

you nod, weary of your confession.

“i’m sorry y/n.” he mumbles.

your eyes meet his at the mention of your first name. coming from him it seems so genuine. he’s never called you by your first name before.

“you won’t tell anyone will you?” you ask, eyes searching his.

“no, i won’t,” he pauses. “but you should get back to your dorm, i’ll walk you back. a walk might help you calm down.”

you nod and let the boy lead you through the dark castle, lit only by the moon. draco’s steps are lighter than yours, and it causes you to wonder how he learned how to be so quiet. it’s unlike him.

when the two of you reach the hufflepuff entrance you whisper to him, “thank you for calming me down, draco. it means a lot that you would help me.”

in the shadows you see him smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. you bid the boy goodnight, and walk back to your dorm. of course you’re still sad but the sadness is somewhat diluted, thanks to none other than draco malfoy.

you continue to meet with draco daily throughout the months of your sixth year. the two of you finding comfort in each other.

by now, you’re becoming far less dependent on love potions. having someone to confide in proving immensely helpful.

but although you’re getting better, draco only grows worse. you never ask him what’s troubling him. maybe because you’re scared he won’t tell you or maybe because you’re scared to loose the person helping you the most. either way, you still try to help him as much as possible.

today, may the eighth, draco and you have plans to go to hogsmeade to look for a new notebook for you, since your old one is completely used up. you really loved mcgonagall, but the woman sure stressed you out with all the notes she commanded your class to take.

you’ve been waiting patiently for twenty minutes, but he doesn’t seem to be anywhere in sight.

maybe he’s still at breakfast? you think to yourself, before heading into the castle to search for your friend.

you peer around the dining hall, coming up short. so you decide to go to the astronomy tower. if you needed draco you could usually find him there.

when you enter the sixth floor, ready to head further up, you hear shouting. curious, you walk toward the noise, which is coming from the boys’ bathroom.

you hesitate going in but once you hear a defensive spell being cast, you draw your wand and bound into the bathroom.

in front of you stands harry potter. he’s crouched behind a wall, clutching his wand and panting. you furrow your brows, and go to question what he’s doing before you see draco emerge and cast the cruciatus curse at him.

before you can tell them both to stop, harry yells out a curse you’ve never heard of before.

“sectumsempra!”

almost instantly, draco falls to the floor, blood pouring out of him.

you’re shocked, and don’t even feel yourself run to him. you don’t hear harry’s apologies. you don’t hear when professor snape rushes in. you don’t hear a thing other than draco’s pained cries.

it reminds you all too much of the chaos of cedric’s death. everything happening too fast.

when snape finally stops the bleeding he instructs you to get back to your common room and keep quiet. you don’t try to fight him on it, and do as you’re told.

after a few hours of worried overthinking, you leave the hufflepuff common room and head to the hospital wing. when you enter the large room, you notice draco immediately. he’s the only one.

“draco?” you call his name, standing beside his bed.

the boy opens his eyes and stares right at you, causing you to cry.

“i was so scared draco.” you cry, placing your hand on your friends chest, feeling his heartbeat. it’s comforting.

“i have to tell you something, y/n, before it’s too late. you just have to promise you won’t tell a soul.” he tells you, voice weak.

“draco you’ve kept my secret over these months. i would never hurt you by telling anyone.” you say.

your friend gives you a weak smile before sitting up in the bed and pulling up his left sleeve, exposing a black ink that contrasts so much from his pale white skin.

“they’re coming here in june. i don’t know the day yet but when i find out i’ll tell you. you have to stay safe, y/n. i’m sorry i didn’t tell you sooner.” draco advises.

“you’re a deatheater.” you breathe out, eyes locked to the dark mark on his arm.

you can’t believe the scene in front of you. your draco, a villain that you’ve been so deathly afraid of for years.

“i’m so sorry y/n. it wasn’t my choice. but please promise me that you’ll stay safe. i need you here with me, not gone by the hands of a dark wizard.” the boy pleads, grasping your hand.

you look him in the eyes, “i promise draco.”

he doesn’t let go of your hand and brings it back to his heart.

“i care so deeply for you, y/n. you’re so good. thank you for everything.” he says, faltering.

your eyes are teary when you say, “i love you draco.”

with that you slip your hand out of his and walk back to your dorm. your thoughts seem to be invasive that night. you contemplate grabbing the bottle of love potion you haven’t taken in a month, but decide against it.

you feel cheated. everything had been so perfect. all the excitement you had from running through the nights with the boy you love begin to eat you alive.

it’s not fair for it to turn out like this. the two of you so dependent on each other, but on two separate sides of a war. there’s no way this can end well.

you realize you love draco, as more than a friend. that scares you and so you’re back to thinking that you’re better off on your own.

draco still sits with you in the astronomy tower daily, but the two of you don’t speak much. you, scared of falling deeper in love. and him, too focused on his task.

of course you find yourself loving the boy more and more everyday. the two of you are always embraced when together, and even though it’s unspoken, you know draco loves you too.

it’s the thirtieth day of june, you’re in the astronomy tower alone when draco comes rushing in.

“y/n you have to go, they’re here.” he warns, checking the stairs behind him.

you freeze at his statement. you knew the day would come but you still weren’t prepared.

“y/n! are you listening to me? you have to go.” he shouts.

this is it. this is the final time you’ll see draco before the war officially starts, after this there’s no more innocent days spent together. here you are again, loosing your best friend.

you get up from the floor and walk to draco. you cup his face gently, “take care of yourself. i love you.”

he eases a little and places his hand on yours, “i love you more. i hope you know that.”

and you do. of course you do.

#—myfics !#draco malfoy fanfiction #draco malfoy one shot #draco lucius malfoy #draco fanfiction #draco malfoy #draco x hufflepuff!reader #draco x y/n #draco x female reader #draco x you #draco x reader #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy angst #draco malfoy x female reader #draco malfoy x slytherin #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #hogwarts

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ickle-ronniekins · 4 years

Text

black & white

request: from nonnie: ASDFGhjkl. Why are your fics so CUTE? 😭 Can I request a cute and cheesy George proposing to the fem!reader—and they’re wedding? 💜

desc: a love story unfolded via a timeline of events and colors. based on the song ‘black and white’ by niall horan

pairing: george x fem!reader

word count: 5.5k

warning(s): lil bit of angst, alcohol, some sexual content if you squint but it stops before things ~heat up~

A/N: this is just pure fluff. may or may not have cried at the cheesiness. idk. i’m a cheesy gal. can’t help it. i’m in love with a fictional character. sorry i went a tad overboard with this. also let’s pretend ~voldy~ doesn’t exist in this k? reminder that my requests are currently closed, i am merely working through the requests already in my inbox. i do not give permission for my work to be posted on any other platform.

Red

Red, hot fury swept through your bones as you watched him laugh hysterically alongside his brother. You balled your fists together, ready to throw a punch, but you knew your mum would lock you in your room until you were forty years of age if you even thought of throwing hands.

George Weasley was a pretentious little git. It was bad enough that he was your neighbour and you had to see him and his equally annoying twin in the village nearly every day, but what made it even worse was that for whatever reason, he’d chosen you to be on the receiving end of all of his pranks. His mother, Molly, was not for it -- she often gave her sons a solid tongue lashing, but it clearly never made an impact, for each and every day they were back to their normal mischief, seeking out ways to make you shake with anger.

“Weasley!” you squeaked as he and his brother ran back across the field toward their home. You loathed the idea of being in the same school as him in just two years time. At least here, at home, you could escape to your own house and your own room, far away from the boy who teasingly threw a red paint balloon all over you and your new dress. But at school, well -- the castle was only so big, wasn’t it? You weren’t sure how far away from him you’d be able to get.

You watched as he and Fred ran away, their giggles echoing through the air on top of the hill. You looked down at your ruined dress and screamed. You reckoned you’d never be able to love the colour red ever again -- not when it had ruined your beautiful purple dress, and especially when it was the colour of his annoying, messy hair.

Yellow

“I’m really sorry.”

He was standing across from you in the field. You thought about telling him that you needed to take four showers in order to get all of the red paint from your hair, and that your dress was permanently stained, but instead you folded your arms across your chest and huffed a bit. Not even magic could salvage it.

“I promise, I mean it,” he squeaked, as if he could read your mind. He seemed sincere, but he was always getting into all types of trouble, wasn’t he? Perhaps he was as good a liar as he was a pranker.

You kicked at the dirt, unsure of what to say. “You ruined my dress.”

“I know, I’m really sorry,” he said again, “it was all Freddie’s doing! I know he normally takes charge of pranks, but blimey, I told him it wasn’t a good idea.”

You arched your eyebrows up in surprise. “You did?”

“Yeah,” George told you. The wind ruffled the leaves on the tree next to you both, and you watched him tentatively as a big smile split his face. He wandered over to the tree trunk and picked at the flowers that were growing at the base. Then he turned around, marched right over to you, and handed them to you.

Yellow dandelions. You peered down at them, and then looked up at him in surprise. This wouldn’t fix your dress, but he was trying, at least. You noticed the dimples that appeared on his cheeks when he smiled. “Pretty flowers for a pretty girl.”

You couldn’t help it; you blushed and looked toward the ground. You picked a bit at the flowers and met George’s gaze once again. “You still owe me, Weasley.”

You both heard Molly calling him for dinner. “Okay, mum!” he called back, his voice echoing against the wind. He turned back toward you. “Promise. I owe you. I also promise to kick Fred’s arse since it was his idea anyway.”

A squeak of a giggle emitted from your lips and you watched as George Weasley skipped all the way home.

Blue

All of Ravenclaw house erupted into cheers as the colours of the Great Hall changed to celebrate the momentous occasion of your house winning the Quidditch Cup. It had been a neck to neck match against Gryffindor, but had you not caught the snitch before Harry, they would have had it in the bag for the third year in a row.

“At the risk of sounding like I’m pro Ravenclaw, I’ve got to say, you guys put up a great match,” you whirled around in the crowd and saw George standing in front of you. He had his hands in his pockets and he shrugged, clearly upset at a Gryffindor loss, but at least they hadn’t lost to Slytherin, right? “You really are a wicked Seeker.”

“Thanks, Weasley,” you said triumphantly, both pleased with yourself for winning but also feeling a little bit guilty for beating Gryffindor.

“When did you get so good anyway?”

“Hmm,” you placed your hand to your chin and pretended to be deep in thought, “do you mean, how did I get to be so incredible? I don’t have an answer for you, truthfully, reckon I was just born with it.”

Students filtered around you both, and you watched him laugh as blue confetti fell around the both of you and the rest of the Great Hall. Personally you thought it was a little much, but the captain had insisted. You met George’s gaze again though, and rolled your eyes.

“Oi, mate,” you heard Fred call. He reached his twin and threw an arm around his shoulders, “what’re you doing over here, conversing with the enemy?” You rolled your eyes yet again, something you found yourself doing quite often with the two of them, and Fred just grinned obnoxiously at you. “Only joking, Y/N. I suppose if anyone had to beat us, we’re glad it’s Ravenclaw. But if you repeat that, we’ll deny it, I swear to Merlin.”

“My lips are sealed, Freddie.”

You bid them both adieu before turning back to your house, celebrating and clinking your goblets of pumpkin juice together, and through the yelps and the cheers, you missed George say to Fred that he actually quite liked the way the Great Hall looked, all decorated in blue.

Orange

“How about you get to work on the ground Unicorn horn, and I’ll try and get this water crystalized?” you offered.

Today’s lesson was to brew the Oculus Potion, in the event any of you ever needed to restore someone’s sight. In an attempt to separate them, Snape had paired George with you and Fred with another Ravenclaw who didn’t look happy at all at the prospect of having him as her partner. You peered over the cauldron at George and said, “No worries. We’ve only got thirteen steps. I reckon if we keep at this without any distractions, we’ll be finished before the rest of class.”

“Better get cracking, then,” George replied.

The two of you worked in comfortable silence; you tensed a few times when Snape meandered by your table, peering down into your cauldron and scoffing, for you were certain that an attempt at any type of potion would never live up to his unrealistic expectations of two sixteen-year-olds.

A little while later, you realized that the heat emitting from all of the cauldrons was making the entire classroom incredibly warm. “Blimey, could he open a bloody window, or something?” you asked, ignoring the fact that there were absolutely no windows in the dungeons. George laughed and continued to add the crystalized water into your cauldron as you pulled your sweater over your head, leaving you in your white button down and blue and grey tie. You pulled your hair back off of your neck and said, “Alright, be sure to only add the water until it turns indigo, George.”

The poor lad hadn’t been paying attention, because your potion was far past indigo at this point. In fact, it looked as though it had turned a deep, navy blue, bordering on black, as George peered at you with soft eyes and continued to pour in the crystalized water, not realizing that he was messing up your carefully brewed potion. A snapping noise pulled him from his thoughts, and a slight explosion erupted from your cauldron and caused black smoke to cover George’s face and hair.

Most of the class began to laugh, but Snape angrily shushed them and sauntered over to the two of you, clearly giddy beyond belief that he was able to deduct points from both of your houses for causing such a ruckus in his precious dungeons. George wiped a bit of the soot from his forehead as you poured in the antidote and giggled.

“Merlin, I’m sorry -- didn’t mean to get points taken from your house.”

“Eh, it was bound to happen sooner or later.. don’t worry about it. Look! Good as new,” you clapped your hands together as the potion turned to the desired shade of orange before the final two steps. You met George’s look through the orange haze over your cauldron and asked him, “What had you so distracted anyway, Weasley?”

“Oh, erm -- nothing,” he replied a bit quickly. It didn’t go unnoticed how he’d stumbled over his words and immediately went back to looking rather intently at the directions. You bit back a smile and looked back down at yours too, unable to rid yourself of the nerves bubbling up inside of you as George looked up once again, stealing glances at you through the orange mist as nerves overtook him, too.

Green

“You had no right to do that! What the bloody hell were you thinking?”

George was standing across from you on the empty dance floor; the Yule Ball had ended abruptly and each and every student had filtered from the Great Hall and back to their respective dormitories, per the teachers. The two of you had managed to stay somehow, now more than ten feet away; you looked at one another with envy as a dramatic scene unfurled between you both.

The entire night had been nothing but a dream, up until that one dance. You’d waltzed in, your light green dress swaying beautifully near your ankles, your hand wrapped around your date’s arm. You waved to your friends, who stood with their respective dates as well, and promised yourself you’d catch up with them at the end of the night when you’d undoubtedly have stories to tell them of the most magical evening of your life.

Except that wasn’t how it worked out, had it?

“He was all over you!” George called, and you noticed how prominent the veins in his hands were when he threw them up in the air. “You said no, didn’t you? He asked you to come back to his dorm and you’d said no. Did you expect me to stand there and do nothing when he grabbed your wrists and tried to pull you there?”

George was right. You had said no, and truthfully, the way your date had grabbed you and attempted to drag you back to his room had really frightened you. You reckoned it was the firewhisky he’d drunk earlier that evening -- he wasn’t violent or anything, but he seemed desperate to get you there. All George had done was step in and stand up for you, so why on earth should you be angry at him?

You didn’t want to give George the satisfaction of letting him know that he was right. You were mad at him for other reasons, anyway. It should’ve been you that he asked to the ball, not that other disturbingly annoying Beauxbatons girl. It’s like he’d picked her particularly because he knew her annoying, bubbly personality and thick French accent would get right under your skin.

You softened a bit as you took a deep breath. “I appreciate what you did, George, but it wasn’t your place. I can take care of myself. He nearly knocked you right out!”

George winced at your words and brought a hand to his black and blue eye. He hadn’t even had the time to grab some ice and place it to the injury, and it was now rather swollen. “I don’t care if he knocked me to the bloody ground, I wasn’t going to let him do that to you!”

You couldn’t help it; anger took you over and you were saying things you shouldn’t have before you could second guess yourself. “Well you know what, George? Perhaps he wouldn’t have had the chance to try anything with me if you’d just bloody asked me to the ball first instead of that stuffy Beauxbatons girl!”

You knew your words hurt him, but you didn’t care. He looked as though he’d gotten the wind knocked out of him; he stepped backward and faltered a bit. His breathing became heavy and irregular. “You already had your date when I asked her, Y/N -- don’t you dare try and pin this on me.”

He was right, yet again. You couldn’t help it. Big, fat tears were falling down your face now and you reckoned you wouldn’t be able to salvage the rest of the hideousness that was this evening. You wiped your tears with the back of your hand and noticed the smears of black mascara and eyeliner on your skin. He inched forward now and opened his arms, but you backed away, still not ready to show him any affection.

You were being a git, but the truth was, you’d waited until the very last possible second for George to ask you to the ball. So when he didn’t, you begrudgingly agreed to the Hufflepuff who’d stepped forward and asked you himself. And as you walked swiftly passed George and up the steps to your common room, you realized that though you’d said yes, your heart had been with the Weasley boy you so adored the entire evening.

In truth, what he’d done was brave and full of love and passion. But you were still filled with hurt.

The green monster of jealousy that you’d felt when you’d watched him dance with his date was such a vice, but you just couldn’t help how you felt.

You left George alone in the desolate Great Hall as he let his head fall into his hands, pushing down his fury and tears.

Grey

You hadn’t gone back to him, that boy from the Yule Ball. You thought about it, but you figured you’d spare George more anger.

He’d approached you, your date, the day afterwards, apologizing profusely for his behaviour and how embarrassed he was at the whole ordeal. He’d asked you for lunch, only if you were okay, and you politely declined. “Friends,” you’d said, and he smiled pitifully, but gratefully, and took your hand in his to shake it.

It was so stupid, wasn’t it? Fighting with George over this. So he hadn’t asked you to the Yule Ball, so what? It wasn’t the end all, be all, was it? And he’d stood up for you, hadn’t he? When things had gotten a little out of control. He hadn’t been your date, but he had been your saviour.

It had only been a week since the dance and you two hadn’t said a word to one another. Fred had begged you too. “Come on, Y/N, you know he’s real sorry. Can’t you just forgive him? Blimey, it’s a right difficult thing to do, splitting my time between you both.”

You merely pressed your lips together and huffed. “He can come apologize to me himself, Fred. He doesn’t need you to do it for him.”

But later that afternoon, you figured, why wait? This whole thing was so dramatic and stupid. And so after rereading the same page eight times due to your lack of concentration, you jumped up from your chair in the Ravenclaw common room and made way toward the Great Hall, as fast as your legs could carry you. You were just going to tell him exactly that -- that this entire thing was dumb, and that you were thankful for him, and that bloody hell, you missed him. Perhaps it was a bit dramatic -- it had only been six days, right? You couldn’t help it. You missed him. You missed him a lot.

The thought of finally speaking to him after a very dramatic week apart made your heart flutter, and a very wide smile split your face just as you were about to round the last bend before the Great Hall.

And then you saw it. Them. Tucked away in a corner near a deserted classroom -- tangled together, George’s hands on her waist, hers in his long red hair. Her lips nearly on his. Smiling, giggling. Kissing him.

That bloody annoying Beauxbatons girl.

You stopped short and nearly tripped over your own two feet. You opened your mouth to speak but just let your mouth tremble in silence as you watched them snog one another. Her laugh was so painfully sugary sweet, you felt as though you’d like to rip your own hair out.

You were surprised how quickly the sight of them had sent your heart plummeting into your stomach. Somewhere in the few moments when you stood there in shock, your vision had become blurry and your face had become wet. You wiped at it with your sweater sleeve and sniffled quietly so they wouldn’t hear you. You spun on your heel and sped back toward your common room, wondering what the bloody hell had come over you when you thought of apologizing to him. You just wanted to get back to your dorm. Or perhaps back to your house in Ottery St. Catchpole. Stupid, silly girl you were.

If only you knew that George had spotted you before you’d left and froze solid in the spot he was standing, ignoring the forwardness of the Beauxbatons girl attached to his arm, his heart and mind chasing you all the way home.

Purple

The Ravenclaw common room was completely empty except for you. You always did this, though -- each and every year, you were always the last to finish packing. Not because you were a procrastinator, but because you hated admitting to yourself that another year was over, and you were another year closer to impending graduation.

Someone popped through the door and said your name softly. You turned and saw George standing there with a small smile on his face. “Hey,” he said, “train’s here. You almost ready to go?”

You groaned and looked back down at your trunk, now fully packed. “If I’ve got to be.” You felt like an absolute idiot that those few words brought tears to your eyes so easily. “Oi, here I go again.”

George laughed lightly and pulled you into a hug. “We’ll be back in no time, you’ll see again how quickly the summer holidays go.”

“But George, it’s our last year!” you cried. And then you took a deep breath to calm yourself down, because you didn’t fancy the idea of boarding the train with smudged makeup and a red nose. “Anyway, shall we?”

When you grabbed your trunk and headed toward the door, George gently took your hand in his and turned you around. “I’ve got something for you actually.”

You wiggled your eyebrows at him and clapped your hands together. “A present? It’s not even my birthday.”

But then you wondered if it was actually a present he wanted to give you, because he took your other hand in his and squeezed them, a serious look on his face. Your features twisted into that of confusion, and you’d be lying if you said that your heartbeat didn’t increase at the sight of him looking at you so earnestly. “What is it?”

“I’ve been a real git this year. Specifically, the Yule Ball. And a little while after that.”

You laughed and playfully shoved him. Though you still felt the sting of those few weeks, you two had managed to patch things up. He hadn’t lasted that long with that Beauxbatons girl anyway. “George, we’ve been over this, c’mon -- you were only doing what you thought was right. I’ve forgiven you, you know.”

“I know,” he smiled, and you could tell that he was equally as glad as you were that you two had placed that argument behind you. But what you two hadn’t touched on since then was what you’d said to him in a fit of fury: Perhaps he wouldn’t have had the chance to try anything with me if you’d just bloody asked me to the ball first instead of that stuffy Beauxbatons girl!

Of course he’d wanted to ask you. He’d wanted to ask you more than anything in the entire world, but each and every time he’d opened his mouth to say something, he couldn’t. Bloody nerves, and all that. Then he went and acted like a prat, making you cry, and he vowed to himself that he’d never make you cry again, unless it were happy tears.

“I realized I’ve never properly made it up to you -- not asking you to the the Yule Ball in the first place, and that time when we were nine.”

You raised your eyebrows suspiciously. “When we were nine? What the bloody hell happened when we were nine?”

And then he pulled from his pocket the most beautiful lavender pendant you ever did see. The circular stone was outlined in the same silver as the chain, and the sun flooding in from the windows made it sparkle more than anything you’d ever seen in your life. Your breath caught in your throat and you looked back and forth from the necklace to George, and back again.

“I ruined your purple dress, remember?” he asked you. He laughed a bit, probably thinking about the ridiculous way you’d looked with red paint splattered all over you. You couldn’t believe he remembered that. “Now, it’s not a dress, but seeing as we’ve grown up a bit since then, I reckoned you’d prefer something a little nicer.” He swallowed over a lump in his throat before continuing. “I never fancied her, you know. That girl from Beauxbatons. I just...” he trailed off, searching for words he couldn’t seem to muster up. You wondered if he could hear the dramatic thump of your heart, beating loudly in the heavy silence. “It doesn’t matter. It was you I wanted to be with that night, and long after. I still do.”

Then he brushed aside your hair and placed the pendant around your neck. You peered at him through blurry vision, and surprised yourself that you were now crying due to the tenderness of his touch and the emotion in his gift and not that you two were about the board the train and leave school, no longer the same two people you were just a few moments ago.

You did the only thing you could think of and you threw your arms around his neck and kissed him. You felt his shock, but it took him only mere milliseconds before he was kissing you back. In truth, you’d been wondering what it would feel like to kiss him -- the taste of him, the feel of your limbs entangled together, exactly how high your heart would soar. It was exactly the way first kisses were meant to be -- slow, and easy, and warm, the way it’s supposed to feel after having swam all day long -- your body limp and muscles de-tensing. You moulded perfectly with him, and when gravity (or rather, the first signal of the train’s departure) pulled you from one another, he peered at you with such affection that you felt as though you might explode.

You grabbed the pendant and held in gently in between your fingers, already having memorized the outline of the silver and the different shades of purple within it. “I am so bloody happy you threw red paint at me that day, Weasley.”

He laughed haughtily, throwing his head back before swinging an arm around your waist and pulling your trunk toward the exit of the Ravenclaw common room. “Merlin, me too.”

White

You were sitting at your kitchen table, ignoring the massive amount of work in front of you to admire your other hard work. Your cozy little flat looked just as you always imagined it would, with the added bonus of your boyfriend in the corner of the front entrance, fixing a loose coat hanger on the wall.

Never in your life did you imagine that things could be as perfect as this.

You couldn’t help but wonder if it would be a flat you two would share one day.

You got up and brought with you his half empty glass of wine and handed it to him. Gratefully he took it and sipped before pressing a feather light kiss to your forehead. But then you gently traced his jawline with your finger, down his neck, across his collar bone until he followed your move and leaned in to kiss you. It was soft and chaste and everything like your first one had been. But as the alcohol worked its way through your veins, you found yourself pressing yourself harder against him.

A moan of content escaped him as you bit down on his lip and slipped your hands underneath his shirt, hands pressed against his chest. Unashamedly, you pulled him toward your bedroom, and he placed his empty wine glass next to yours on the table as he kicked the door closed.

The two of you fell backwards onto the bed in an entanglement of limbs. He hovered above you, dropping down a bit to press light kisses to your neck, in between your collarbones, behind your ears, against your jawline. You so desperately wanted to feel his weight on top of you, and so you yanked him firmly against you and kissed him in a way that there was no aching way that he wouldn’t be able to tell exactly what you wanted.

He began to undo the buttons on your shirt, taking time to press kisses into your chest at the exposed places before he stopped himself and gently ran his hands across your hips, and then your cheek. His voice was merely a whisper in the deafening silence, “Are you sure?”

He gazed at you with such tenderness and love that you knew he’d stop, if you’d asked him to. He wouldn’t go another inch further if you weren’t ready. And for you, that was more than enough.

“I’m sure.”

He sucked in a breath and dipped down to press lips to yours gently before continuing to make light work of your clothes. He explored every inch of you, and the sensation of his lips gently grazing your skin caused you to arch your back in pleasure. You could feel him smiling against you, wildly in love, handling you with such care as if you were a tiny glass figure he was afraid of breaking. He held you so delicately and worked his way through each and every single one of your wants with slow and gentle hands.

You’d known it was love with him; maybe not consciously, but you’d known it long before now. Love, filled with intensity and desire and longing, in its most vulnerable and fragile form -- pure, and blinding white.

Pink

The summer air wafted in through the open window in the kitchen, and you listened to Mrs. Weasley hum some Muggle song as she set the table for dessert. You placed the finishing touches on the lemon meringue pie you baked, special because it was George’s favourite and Mrs. Weasley had insisted.

You had to admit, he’d always had the outside exterior of a tough guy, but owning a business did absolute wonders for his confidence. You noticed the way he stood up a little straighter, smiled a little bigger, and most of all, just how much he gushed about all the plans you two would be able to act on, now that you were both making income of your own.

“Merlin’s beard, Y/N, you’ve absolutely knocked it out of the park with this pie, if I do say so myself.” Arthur’s praise was nothing short of wonderful; you felt the tips of your ears turn pink at his compliments. By the way Ron slouched back in his chair, looking rather chuffed indeed, you could tell he felt the same exact way. Especially when he reached for the last piece, but Hermione slapped his hand away.

“Oh my!” Molly yelped suddenly. You jumped in surprise in your seat. “Oh, Georgie dear, would you mind wandering into the field before dark? I’d love some wildflowers for the table,”

“Sure thing, mum.” George replied before turning to you and squeezing your hand. “Want to tag along?”

You said, “Of course” at the exact same time Ron said “I’ll come along too, I could use a good walk” and if you hadn’t been so focused on George’s tender gaze, you almost would’ve missed Fred silently hissing at Ron and Hermione slapping his hand yet again. “On second thought,” Ron swallowed thickly, “I’d better stay here and help you clean up, mum.”

“Atta boy, Ronniekins,” Molly said. To you and George, she continued, “You two better get going -- not long now before it turns dark!”

George stood and pulled you to your feet. “You coming, love?”

“I go where you go.”

About twenty minutes later, as the setting sun had blended with the light purples and pinks of the sky, you’d found yourself with a rather beautiful bouquet of wildflowers for Molly. You turned to George, who was leaning against the tree and smiling at you, and asked, “Shall we get going darling? Don’t want to be too late. I reckon your mum will come out here searching for us if we spend an evening among the stars.”

“Doesn’t sound like too bad of an idea, actually.” His grin deepened, and then he said, “you’re lucky I don’t have any pranks up my sleeve right now.”

You look up at the tree and recognized the place where he’d infuriated you all those long years ago. You rolled your eyes and shook your head before twirling in your dress. “I am lucky. I was able to get a new dress after the one you so lovingly ruined. Though I will admit -- I wasn’t all that big of a fan of those puffy sleeves. This one’s much more adult.”

George arched his eyebrow in surprise before wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close. “Oh yes it is.”

You slapped him playfully and pointed your finger at him. “Alright you prat, calm yourself, you’ll have to wait until we get back to our flat for any funny business.”

But then you realized, as George’s features turned from mischievous to genuine within the matter of seconds, that there was definitely more pressing matters than funny business on his mind.

And then he was telling you how he’d only teased you back then because he’d found you so bloody cute, and how he should’ve asked you to the Yule Ball and regretted every single day that he didn’t, and how he’d never met anyone who could play Quidditch quite as well as you, and how bloody happy he’d been when you’d kissed him that day in the Ravenclaw common room. And then knelt down and he asked it, the words you’d imagined since you were a little girl, strung together with such fondness and emotion and tenderness that you weren’t quite sure how you were standing upright.

You’d already begun to nod quickly through your tears before he finished, but would he really be George Weasley if he didn’t tease you, just a little? “Say yes,” he laughed, “say yes and marry me and be my wife for as long as you’ll have me.”

He slid the ring onto your finger and kissed you and picked you up and whirled you around in the field and held you gently in his arms as though you were a precious glass figurine and he was doing everything in his power to hold you delicately.

“Yes. I say yes.”

Black & White

You asked, When did you first know?

And he answered, I always knew.

You both ran back up the aisle, your white dress fluttering around your ankles, his black suit hugging the curves of his arms, and into the field and away from the party, momentarily, to celebrate your first moments as husband and wife in the place where he’d figured it all out.

He’d known since that afternoon when he’d handed you those yellow dandelions that he would bring you back here one day, to ask you to be his wife. He’d known, in the Ravenclaw common room when he gave you that purple pendant, still dangling from your neck, that one day he’d also give you a ring. He’d known, all those long years ago, that he wanted to marry you, and that you would say yes, when he’d finally ask.

And now, in front of your friends and family, he’d vowed to love you -- love in it’s purest and simplest form, love -- with all it’s sentiment and emotion and vulnerability. He vowed to love you and only you for the rest of his life.

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#george weasley #fred weasley #fred and george weasley #weasley twins #george weasley reader insert #george weasley x reader #george weasley x you #george weasley fanfic #george weasley fanfiction #george weasley imagine #george weasley imagines #weasley twins fanfic #weasley twins fanfiction #weasley twins imagine #weasley twins imagines #hp fanfic #hp fanfiction #hp imagines

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solomonish · 3 years

Text

no mistakes, only happy (magical) accidents

CW: none!

hehe hello, nonnie! you are so nice and it’s always a joy to have you stop by even if we’ve only exchanged a few messages <3 this was getting kinda long so I stopped it before it got to making things official BUT. maybe when i’m feeling up to it i’ll write a part 2. I do hope you don’t mind! it wasn’t boring at all! i get burnout really easy so i had to keep it to hc but this would make a really nice fic! (i also went a biiit off script but what can i say, i got a specific inspiration <3)

Solomon

Despite being banished and the bad blood he has with the heads of the institution, Solomon still finds himself at the Sorcerer's Society. Frequently.

Sometimes he is invited, his unrivaled knowledge and experience needed in some stuffy decision making progress. Others, he just slips in, sometimes through the front door and sometimes through more deceitful ways. All he does is observe, occasionally borrowing a specific book or artifact. The people in charge know about this, but so long as he returns the items unscathed and in a timely manner, they turn a blind eye. Best not to cause a ruckus where there doesn't need to be one.

Thanks to this little system, Solomon doesn't normally interact with any of the people he comes across. On the occasions he is recognized, there's always some awkward, half-baked attempt at confrontation, so he keeps to himself and only ever gets what he needs.

He's tucked in a shadowy corner of one of the libraries, searching for a book, when he hears it. Two witches whispering about a strange increase in magic in their area.

"For that long? Have you gone to check it out?"

"No, I never have the time. I just hope it isn't something dangerous."

"Well, does it feel dangerous?"

"No, but it is...strong."

"So you're just going to leave it for someone else to take care of?"

"When you hear a wolf's howl, do you head directly towards it?" As the two head out, Solomon hides himself further behind the bookshelf. He doesn't know exactly who the witches are, but he does know about where they're from, and that's all he needs.

Fun! He’s been looking into magical anomalies in the human realm recently!

so he’s checking out the area those witches are from, not really sure he knows what he’s looking for, but looking all the same. there is definitely a magical pull, but it feels.....off. he’s expecting something natural, like a small, hidden waterfall with waters that can be used for potions that elongate the natural lifespan, or a cave with an endless supply of crystals that can be used to double enchantment strength with half the effort.

but then he finds you instead after you managed to cause a small implosion in a cavern he was standing right next to but hadn’t noticed. if he hadn’t heard your shriek, he wouldn’t have bothered helping clear the rubble.

but he did hear you, and he pulled you out of the cave, watching you gracelessly fall on the grass and pat your sides to check for your belongings.

now, sometimes there’s a certain energy between human magic wielders that is just palpable. it isn’t a fool-proof way to know who can practice magic, but especially strong sorcerers can pick up on them more easily and especially unwieldy or inexperienced ones are often easier to pick up on. Solomon seems to be the former, and you...

He doesn’t mean to sound haughty, but he can’t help but ask who taught you how to cast your spells and WHAT DO YOU MEAN you’re using WHICH flowers for your spells?

Maybe it’s your pride, but your indignant “well what would YOU do?” was not meant to turn into a regular thing.

Hey, when you’re self-taught you tend to take a lot of shortcuts. And Solomon isn’t normally the type to just pick up random apprentices off the street, but he falls into teaching so easily. So maybe that day you spend the rest of it revising your spellcasting tactics, and maybe he finally leaves with an invitation to visit. And maybe he visits sooner than you’d expect.

You’re definitely not complaining, though. It’s good to not feel so alone in your magic and have a second head to bounce ideas off of. Plus, you’ve only grown more efficient with his help!! You hope the tea and meals you provide him with is payment enough.

Sometimes, he doesn’t just visit for a day. Sometimes he’s there for a few days, teaching you a few spells and stocking up on potions you’ve made that you offer him, glad for the company. he doesn’t visit every week - sometimes, it’s months between the times you see each other, but each time you fall into an easy rhythm and it’s nice!

You tell him about the area you live in, different local specialties that really enhance the ability of your potions and spells, and he tells you about his adventures throughout his life. there’s never a moment where you don’t know what to say - and everything he has to say is so interesting!

probably the most emotional moment you two have had is when you brought up extending your life. he went stiff, and started asking twenty questions before stumbling over his words and asking none of them. you asked him what was wrong, and he didn’t answer.

instead, he gave you the typical talk you’d expect - “are you willing to watch your friends and loved ones die? to watch humanity move on without you?” - and you answer cautiously like “yeah, and also this potion should theoretically only give me a few extra decades”

he sighs, and urges you that if you must live longer, never fall for the trap of immortality. he only gives you half-sentences that don’t make sense, but you promise him you wont anyway.

“be careful. the human mind can barely take what it was naturally given.”

he leaves solid answers unspoken, but you can add it all up.

and after that, the two of you just seem. closer? there’s something about opening up about your trauma that really brings two people together

so you do end up extending your lifespan, though not by much - you still aren’t powerful enough to give yourself over 150 years AT BEST, but you and Solomon stay in touch. and you both keep getting stronger.

eventually, though, it’s time to step into the magical world and start showing up places with him. You aren’t a unit, but you travel like one, and people start to notice.

at first, you’re asked all the time if you’re his apprentice, and you laugh it off and say “no, i just ask a lot of questions.” then you get the logical next step - “oh, are you two dating?”

it took you that long to notice that you had a crush MC good job

every time someone asks about it, you get flustered without a doubt. Solomon takes it in stride, which, ouch, but you sort of withdraw and your face feels hot. So it really bothers Solomon when people ask because you’re out of commission for a while and the two of you are pals :( you do stuff together on purpose

but now that it’s on your MIND you can’t SHAKE the idea of dating him.....you already know him so well....he’s spent long periods of time at your place.....you work well together......you wouldn’t mind kissing him......oh damn

it’s one of those “everybody can see it except for him” situations, and you start overthinking it. big time. it doesn’t help that you were sort of a recluse before he came along so what experience do you have with it??

none. the answer is none. and boy does it show when you get to the point where you can barely have a full conversation without turning red because your thoughts betrayed you AGAIN.

you’re really regretting that life-elongating potion, huh, MC?

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me swd #swd obey me #obey me solomon #swd solomon #solomon #solomon x reader #obey me solomon x reader #swd solomon x reader #mine #solomon hcs

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astringofmadhousefloozies · 3 years

Text

The Birthday Fic

Several months in the making. Started around Ruggie’s birthday (Which is why he’s the opener) completed long past my own birthday.

Content warning for coarse language, sexuality, mentions of illness and the medication needed for managing it, and getting wildly horny to a point that even I was impressed with myself.

As always, there’s more in my Twisted Wonderland Fanfiction tag, send me a message if you liked it! (I know what the birthday gifts were from most everyone, even if not mentioned in-fic.)

~*~*~*~

"I'm sorry dude, what did you say? You ears started going and I just tuned the fuck out."

"I said, 'when's it your turn to have the school-run birthday party?' It's got it be soon." Ruggie's intentionally twitching his damn ears, has to be, and you had to physically shield your eyes to be able to answer properly.

"I don't fucking know, man, I need to have a birthday for that."

"Everyone has a birthday."

"Yeah, but I don't know when mine is."

"Can't Crowley tell you? He's got all kind of magic."

You sighed. "He tried that, so I could remember my proper name. He can't even get a year fix."

"That fucking sucks, Yuu." Ruggie passed you a pop can before cracking open one himself. "You should get one of these, too."

"Ah, maybe Riddle will take pity and dedicate me a specific Unbirthday party." What was this, melon? Not bad.

"That's not the same because you won't get loot."

"Yeah, you wanna go through fifty boxes of chocolates to get rid of all the ones with potion-of-suck-your-dick? I'm good."

He scrunched his nose in disgust. "People still trying love spells on you?"

"Not as much, but I still get Mal to check them over for me. He's good about that."

"He just doesn't want to share."

"Shush."

"It's true!" He stopped for a moment. "Does he know you don't have a birthday?"

"He hasn't realized yet and you're not going to tell him."

~*~*~*~

"Yuu?"

"Trey?" You blinked up at him. You didn't talk as much as you'd like to, mostly because every time he showed up your mouth rapidly filled with whatever treat he'd just made.

"What do you like best for cake?"

"I will literally eat anything that you put in front of me if you make it, even if it's full of shit I hate."

He raised an eyebrow. "Okay, new angle. What don't you like?"

Oh boy, he better prepare himself. "Fondant tastes gross, modeling chocolate is white chocolate so I hate it, a cake should be cake and not mostly fucking icing and rice crispy treats, most icing's too heavy for me if it's not whipped cream- why are you writing this down."

He looked up from his notebook, blinking at you with his pleasing yellow eyes. "Because you always give thoughtful feedback to my baking and I want to make you something as a thank you."

"Oh. If that's it, I'd rather have cheesecake."

~*~*~*~

"Mon Trickster~"

"Rook, I'm trying to re-" You yelped as he squeezed your waist, and you swatted at him. "Fuck's gotten into you?"

"What, I cannot play with my sweet friend?" He'd dragged you from your seat in the library, and was now doing his damndest to twirl you around without ramming you through the tables.

"Not right now! I expect this shit from Floyd, not you." He's going to get you both kicked out of the library if he doesn't smarten up.

"Our dearest Malfeasant is playing with the Rose King right now. Besides, he lacks my talents." He stretched your arms out straight before twirling you around, your back pressed to his front.

"Is that getting away with being a shithead?" you ask as you pap the side of his face, too little force to be a slap but with a similar message of 'stop'.

"Amongst much else, my dear!" He managed to dip you low, bracing one of your legs in the air, and you wiggled out of his grasp with a thump to the floor.

"Ah, what an invitation, ma belle! But alas, I cannot. It could never be. I'll see you at lunch." And he left you there, baffled, on the floor.

You wound up getting kicked out of the library after you started shrieking in rage and kicking like a damned toddler. What the fuck was that about?

~*~*~*~

"People are being weird."

"Everyone's weird around you." If Idia's combo kept, this would be a perfect match. "You encourage it in people with your presence. It's a passive AOE. No fighting against it."

"More than normal."

"It's the curse of spring. If you aren't sneezing, you see pretty girls and get stupid." He got his perfect match, and went back to the lobby. "Even I'm not immune to simp fever and spring flowers."

"You sure? You only go outside so you don't die of Vitamin D deficiency."

He pouted at you. "Girlfriends are supposed to be nice to you, you know."

"If I stopped, you'd wonder what's wrong. Anyway, then you couldn't brag to your followers about a tsundere girlfriend."

"You're not even a tsundere! You genuinely like me even when you're mean." He leaned back and stared at the ceiling. "You're maybe sadodere."

"What's that one?"

"Sadistic yet affectionate."

You opened your mouth but genuinely couldn't argue. He was too fucking cute not to be mean to! What can you say? That pwease-no-buwwy aura he got when distressed was just too much.

"Yeah." He paused, a small smile creeping across his face. "Yuu."

"Yeah?"

"You really like stripes, don't you?"

You looked down, at his blue striped shirt you were wearing. It honestly fit you better than it did him. Further down was pinstriped socks, and if you remembered, the underwear had stripes too.

"What do you think."

~*~*~*~

"Mal?" "Yes?" "Why do you have all this even if you don't wear any of it?" "I do wear earrings now, thanks to you." He dropped another oversized ring onto your finger. "The rest, I simply don't bother with unless I must appear in an official capacity."

"So I'm a special occasion?"

He smiled at you, sweet and genuine. "Always."

"Then why am I your jewelry rack today?" So many necklaces. So many rings. There'd be a crown on your head, too, if the crowns for Draconias weren't essentially elabourate chains hanging off the horns.

"Perhaps I enjoy seeing you wearing my things. You wear Shroud's all the time." He was slowly going through a box of rings, trading them on and off your fingers after puzzling over them.

"Your clothes are tailored, and I'm too big around." You thought for a moment. "So, Mal."

"Yes?"

"Are you planning on something you aren't telling me?"

He blanched and immediately went shift eyed. "Of course not."

You took a breath. "I'm gonna say no."

"Yuu-"

"I'm pretty sure your grandmother would eat me alive if I said yes."

"No!" He made a shushing guesture. "I... am planning something. But not a proposal, my goodness, that would be too much pressure for you and would splinter the kingdom." He sighed. "Even if I would like it."

"I know you would. What are you planning."

"No."

"Yes, tell me."

"It's a surprise. You'll get it at some point in the future."

You thought back to some of the stranger events of the past few weeks. "... is it a birthday party, Malleus."

"Nnnnnnoooooooooooooo?" His face was a desperate, wide-eyed mask of please-believe-me.

"Yes it is."

"I didn't say that."

"You might as well have!"

"It's not." He wasn't even facing you anymore, knowing his face would betray him.

You took a deep breath.

"I can keep pretending I don't know. I mean, if you want to throw a surprise party, I can't really stop you. And anyway," you added, "If I don't have a set birthday, there's no way I can know exactly when it's coming."

He relaxed, slightly.

"Don't get me a ring, though."

He chuckled. "That does have implications, doesn't it."

"Don't it, though?"

"I was checking what colours were most flattering for you." He finally turned around, all warm smiles. "I should have known. They all look lovely, because you're the one wearing them."

"Stop." You could feel you cheeks reddening. "If it helps, gold doesn't make my ears act up."

~*~*~*~

When you walked to your dorm one warm day, after school, you simply could not see the building for the brambles grown up since you left this morning.

"Yuu?"

"Grim?"

He squinted at you, unimpressed. "Your prince boyfriend has lost his fucking mind. Why'd he do this?"

"I think I know." You looked in amongst the branches, which held no roses, but something better. You plucked off a blackberry and held it to your little shoulder monster.

"Ew, no. I want tuna."

"Suit yourself." There was a path, and if you got on tiptoes, a tent half-hidden behind the briar. "You ready for a party, Grim?"

"What? What party?"

You shifted him from your shoulder to your hip as you walked along, careful of your sore arm. "They decided I needed a surprise party because I don't have an actual birthday. Figured it out like two... three? weeks ago."

"Why didn't you tell me?" He stopped, looked away, and bristled. "Why didn't they tell me?!?"

"Because you can't keep a fucking secret?"

He yelled and scrambled to the ground. "Hey assholes why didn't you tell me I better be getting presents too-" He's already out of sight, and you can't stop laughing at him. It's better like this, when he's himself.

~*~*~*~

Why is Everyone here. There's a huge stack of presents, there's a buffet table, there's chairs, there's -

"Shrimpie's here!" And then everyone converged with enough words that it was just a wall of sound; mystery hands leading you to a chair, someone was trying to stick a hat on you -

"Wait!"

People only stepped off and quieted because your voice cracked. Idia, hiding in a corner, managed to raise sympathetic eyebrows before whispering something into Azul's ear.

"I gotta go inside for like, five minutes, I'll be right back." And off you went.

~*~*~*~

"You don't seem the type to do drugs."

You looked up and laughed. "Well, Vil, I gotta get through the day somehow." You shook out two pills and poured a glass of water.

"What are they for?" He leaned against the doorway, as though it wouldn't cover his clothes with splinters and dust.

"These," you said as you pointed to the two in your hands "are anti-nausea. They're new."

"How many of those do you take?" He nodded towards the other bottles on the counter. “I didn’t see them during training.”

"Well," you said, as you started to number them off on your fingers. "I started the first ones after Eliza, to help stabilize my organs, the second ones were immunity-boosting after my pneumonia, I started taking vitamins after that as well, I got sleeping pills for nightmares after Jamil blotted - they don't always work, but hey - and, well." You shook your current bottle. "Your curse vapours are pretty good, it turns out."

He blanched, and you backpedaled. "You weren't yourself, and I only have to take these before meals now. I had to get IVs in the morning for a few days, I couldn't keep... wait, wait, shit, no, I'm sorry, don't make that face -"

Vil crossed the distance, putting his face very close to yours. "You should have told me."

"Why make you feel even worse, man?"

"Because I could have formulated something better for the damage." He flicked your nose, more exasperation than malice. "Cures and poison go hand in hand. I can't fix what was done if I don't know."

"Taking care of my medical woes is not your job, Vil."

"You don't get to tell me what is and isn't my job." He squeezed you close with one arm. "You're just an exhausting little potato."

"I'm a delicious little sweet potato that you can't resist."

He sighed, exhausted. "Yes you are. Now take your pills and stop with secrets."

~*~*~*~

"What kept you?"

"Had to make sure there's room in the fridge for all your food, Trey." He hadn't chosen one cheesecake - he had at least two dozen varieties of bite sized miniatures, labeled by flavour and potential allergens. "You were busy."

"Well, I felt like experimenting. I hope you don't mind."

"You're the one doing me a favour." You looked around, everyone chatting idly with one another. "Where's Mal."

"..."

"I swear to fucking god if he didn't get an invitation to the party he helped organize-"

~*~*~*~

It turns out he'd left to fetch an obnoxiously large bouquet of flowers, the scent so overpowering you thought your chair might tip from the force of it.

"You do enjoy them?" Mal was so cute when unsure.

"Yes, dear." As long as people didn't crowd in again. Lately, you can only take so much sensation before your brain shorts out and you start yelling. "Set them on the table, I'll have to start on them later." Hairspray and an arid room would have those dried within the week.

"Which part of the celebration will we start with first?"

"I don't know. It's my party but you're the ones throwing it. Where's Grim?"

He pointed over to one of the set up tables, where Grim sat in a pile of wrapping paper, furiously kick-scratching at a wriggling toy fish as big as he was, while Cater filmed. "We realized a few days ago he'd be unhappy if he didn't get his own presents."

"Aww. Is there catnip in that?"

He leaned in conspiratorially. "We're not supposed to have any on campus because Kingscholar is susceptible to it."

You went right past normal laughter straight to wheezing.

~*~*~*~

So far, the highlights were: A mycological photobook from Jade big enough to crush someone's head with (that he cheerfully wrote as such on the inside flap), an enormous multipack of slipper socks from Ruggie (with a note saying it was a return on the doughnut-patterened ones you'd given him for his own birthday) and a parure set from Floyd, crafted from thousands of woven seed pearls with carved coral feature beads that was frankly obscene in the amount of money it must have cost. (He, of course, said it was worth it as long as you wore it for him, and simply laughed when you quipped that he meant with clothing right?)

The rest was fantastic, still - various books and movies, a pretty glass vase from Ace stuffed with wildflowers, fine silk dresses from Kalim and a simple belled bracelet tucked in, from Jamil. Currently, you were opening a basket from Vil.

"Oh, wow," you meant with sincerety as you pulled out a light, fragrant soap. "You make this yourself?"

"Yes. There's soaps, shampoo, conditioner, perfumes, lotions..."

You smiled at him sweetly. "You saying I stink, Shoenheit?"

He mirrored your smile right back at you. "Be sure to use them."

"... I'm going to kill you," you said, laughing, as you lobbed the wrapping paper at his face.

~*~*~*~

"Az?"

"Mm?" He was watching with amusement as you looked the jacket over, a lovingly tailored frock coat in periwinkle wool and shell toggles.

"Are you sure this'll fit?"

"Of course." He guestured down the table to Rook, who waved. "He checked your measurements."

"When did-" Ohhhhhh. Oh. Alright. "I'm surprised he couldn't tell by just looking."

"I could, mon ange! But that was more fun!"

~*~*~*~

Malleus barely hid his pout when sliding his box over to you, and it didn't take you long to guess why. "Floyd's jewels really show yours up, huh."

"Perhaps," he said, pointedly not looking at the boy currently playing with Grim.

"Yours are more special because they're from you." When unwrapped, the box was stunning; carved walnut with shell inlaid curlicues. "My god, how old is this?"

"Older than I am," he said with a smile.

"How old is that, Mal."

He just kept smiling, and you rolled your eyes and opened the box to reveal a piece far, far different than the frothy confection Floyd gave you. A single, sizable brooch of gilt and enamel, a tiny faerie woman staring up at you with imperious emerald eyes, she was so lovingly crafted you could see the tension of her muscles and the hair between her legs.

"This piece is only a hundred and fifty years old," he said mildly. "The artist lives in the Valley of Thorns, and created it in the image of her lover." His smile was fond, and sweet. "They're still together to this day. Even if we may not last so long, I hope that it can be as strong."

The sentiment was enough to make you tear up.

~*~*~*~

Several tissues and a bat-shaped blanket from Lilia later, Idia pulled out a large box. And another, and another.

"Uh, Idia."

He just turned red as he stacked another box.

"Dude, holy fuck. What did you do?"

"Looked at your wishlist on your shopping websites." He's flickering pink at the tips of his hair. "Couldn't decide."

"I told him to just get them all!" Ortho looked wildly proud of himself. "Some of them are from me."

You blinked several times. "I thought the sites broke." You started feeling faint. "Idia."

"Yes?" He finally brought out one last box, easily two thirds your height, and set it in front of you.

"Some of those dolls were... so much madol."

He was shifty-eyed. "Yeah."

"Some of the outfits were themselves more than some of the dolls on those wishlists."

Despite the redness, his face was still. "Yeah."

"Oh my god." You're already sitting down, but you need to lie down. "That's too much money."

"It's nothing, don't worry about it."

"Why do you have so much money one of those sites alone was at least a million madol's worth of-"

"Please just open the boxes," he said in a strained voice. "I don't want them all staring."

You take your shaking hands to start unwrapping, mentally trying to figure out which rooms in the building were sound enough to hold obscene amounts of porcelain, resin and plastic. By the time you were done, there were over forty of varying shapes and sizes with complete wardrobes for each; the last not even on any list - that was an art piece near as tall as you, a fine bone china girl with golden curls and knowing eyes from an artist whose work did not go for less than five million madol even firsthand. Your vision greyed at the sight of her, and when you came to your senses, everyone breathed a sigh of relief before spending the rest of the evening treating you as something at least as delicate and precious as her.

~*~*~*~

It's just past sunset, and guests are still milling about. You're not really looking at them, though - you're losing your little friend.

Grim's only himself in daylight, now. Once the night hits, he goes back to the strange, feral thing that laid your wrist open to eat a chunk of solid ink. He's gone twitchy, wordless, pacing with his now headless robot fish in his mouth, before finally tearing through the brambles to god-knows-where.

"... I don't know what to do about it. He doesn't come back at night anymore. What if he doesn't come back at all one night?"

"I won't let that happen." Idia was draped over the back of your chair, idly playing with the wrapping on your wrist. You couldn't see his face, but a curious tension was clear in his voice. "How many of those crystals has he eaten?"

"All of them, as far as I know." There may have been one on the camping trip that you were mercifully excluded from; thankfully your restraining order against Vargas meant that Grimm had been allowed to attend by himself. Good thing, too, your period had arrived weeks early. "Do you think it's like mercury poisoning? The effects get worse as more collects in his body?"

"Maybe. It's something to look into."

You snorted, lightly. "What do you know about it?"

"... Less than I'd like." Before you could ask, he leaned down to your ear to whisper, "I'd rather know you."

"What, now?" You looked around at the tables. "There's still people here-"

You barely stifled a cry when he nipped at your earlobe. "I put on something nice for you~" You could hear the smirk in his voice as he played every trick in his book to goad you. "Unwrap me and see~"

It took every ounce of self control in you to not throw him down on the table and take him right there, in front of God and every student in the school.

~*~*~*~

"I'm too late, I see."

"Close that damned door before everyone hears."

Malleus obediently shut the door to the balcony before setting his slotted pillow on the dresser. "They couldn't even if they had their ear to the door, I soundproofed all our rooms months ago."

"Aren't you clever. Did they buy the excuse?"

"I think that they would have believed that you were going to bed if you did not say it as soon as Shroud went inside looking very proud of himself."

You flopped back onto your pillows, eliciting a sleepy grunt from Idia. "Shit."

"And if you didn't trip on the stairs in your haste."

"Now you're making fun of me."

"Perhaps," he smiled, sitting at the foot of your bed and idly stroking your leg.

"So, why didn't you tail up after us?"

"I am, if I try very hard, capable of some discretion, even when it comes to you," he huffed. "And anyway, someone had to see everyone off, get everything put away, and bring the gifts inside."

Your face fell. "I'm sorry-"

He crept up to put a finger to your lips. "It was very simple. Now," he pressed himself against you and turned to look at Idia's drowsing form, "what is this?"

You snickered lightly to yourself. "I think he found my browsing history." All you'd left on him was a fine pair of silk stockings, with delicate stripes from thigh to toe. You'd never thought he'd even consider wearing something like that, but your pretty blue boy was so full of surprises.

Malleus hummed to himself as he reached out a hand, dragging a finger along one bruised hip. Idia only sighed and fluttered his lashes, and Mal let out a stuttering gasp.

"Do you think," he whispered, voice hoarse, "that if I took these off with my teeth, that he would still stay asleep?"

You felt faint at the thought. "I don't know, but let me watch you try."

~*~*~*~

You awoke, later, to Idia sitting with the blankets pooled around his waist, five of his blue screens open. You couldn't make much sense of them, too sleepy to make out the letters on their obnoxious brightness, so you reached out both hands to squeeze his waist.

He yelped and scowled at you. "Go to sleep."

"No, you." The screens weren't making any more sense, but there was, briefly, a picture of Grim. "What are you working on?"

"I'm almost done," he said, which was not an answer but you were too tired to notice, so you reached up his back to wind a few locks of hair around your hand - and pulled, which lead to another annoyed yelp as he quickly saved and closed his work. "Just say you're weak to light attacks instead of doing that."

"You know I am." When he finally laid back down beside you, you put your face to his chest, as much to block out the light from his hair as for warmth and comfort. No wonder he slept so poorly, he literally gave off blue light every hour of the day, that only dimmed once he was already asleep. "Tell me about it later, okay?"

"Later," he said, and you drifted off between your two boys, which was almost as nice as sleeping with Grim in your bed, but this would have to do until he got better.

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland fanfiction #malleus draconia #idia shroud #twst grim

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