#even when they describe his blonde hair and blue eyes I’m like ‘harry’

[thedevilinmybrain]

a snippet for snippet’s sake

uhh, i haven’t posted in a bit. been really busy. started a new job on top of another job. got poison ivy. i’ve been a mess but i finally got back to writing. so enjoy.

What Louis doesn’t want is the pressure of arms around him, the cut of thick muscles being thrown over his shoulder as a shock of blond hair presses into his cheek. Before Louis can even think to respond to it, the other boy is pulling back – cheeks flushed, polo all a skew around his neck. 

“Louis! Where have you been?” Aidan calls, claps a familiar hand to Louis’ shoulder. “I haven’t seen you since start of term.”

“Oh. Hey. Mate.”

It’s not Aidan’s fault. Louis should feel worse about it, he knows. Aidan is a nice guy in the way vanilla is a nice flavor when you don’t have any other options. It’s not even that Aidan is that bad looking. He’s got the body of a footie player, tall with lean muscles, a blond with blue eyes pretty enough some people might find them interesting. And Aidan is. He is. In his own way. Funny and charming and a little stale but in a safe way, Louis supposes.

But how can you even consider second place when you’ve had first? And that’s what it really is. Louis can’t be fucking bothered with anyone else when he has the best. Honestly, no one compares to Harry. No one even fucking comes close. Who is even in the same league? Louis should probably feel a bit bad about comparisons but what can he really do? There aren’t enough words to describe how top level Harry is – from his face to his eyes to his long legs and his dumb, loud laugh to the pure, kindness of his heart.

If Louis is a Christmas baby, it only makes sense that his soulmate is the angel you put on top of the tree.

Louis will never admit it out loud but he still gets butterflies every time Harry gives him that look - the scrunched nose, hidden smile, twinkle in the corner of his eyes. Louis hadn’t ever bothered thinking about monogamy, things like love and lasting through fights before Harry, and now the mere thought of waking up without Harry makes Louis’ chest tight, seized up and sharp.

There is a bond there that guys won’t understand. It’s cherry hearts and sweet kisses and watermelon highs but it’s also nasty and primal. It’s holding Harry’s curls back as he empties his stomach only to be found in the corridor twenty minutes later with Louis’ tongue down Harry’s throat. It’s not having any secrets, any boundaries, no walls up so when they’re tired and vegged out in front of Louis’ television, Harry doesn’t have to worry about eating with his hands or wiping his mouth or sucking duck sauce off Louis’ fingers. It’s wiping noses when someone is too sick to move or washing cum out of hair in the bathroom of a gas station because they got too carried away at the drive in.

They’re kinetic – intune to one another, feeding off one another, molding them way into become one until all the lines kind of blur. A hazy cord wrapping them up tight and then tighter.

tagging so you can see i’m not dead and maybe share some of your lovely, brilliant work as well: @haztobegood @twopoppies @indiaalphawhiskey @halohamilton @chaotic-bells @beelou @maggieisalarrie @non-binharry @momrryrights @polaroidlouis

#snippet #gross hot #that's what i'm calling it #in my head #college au gross hot

[crow-rodriguez]

Chapter One: The Four Amigas

I was born a twin, and I was older by two minutes, we got the most basic names on Earth. I was Valentina Julieta Rodriguez, and my twin sister was Rosanna Valencia Rodriguez. We were inseparable from birth. 

I was six when I met my best friends and the first women I ever loved, KelHani Thompson and RaeLynn Derickson. They were girls who went to the same private, christian school that Rosanna and I went to all throughout elementary and middle school. I was on the jungle gym while Rosanna wasn’t far away. She was playing with the woodchips. I was minding my business when I heard a bunch of crying and laughter which piqued my curiosity so I got off the jungle gym and saw two girls from my class that were being rudely picked on by Erika, the daughter of the principal. I walked over and pushed Erika, “stop being a bully, Erika,” I told her, crossing my arms.

“But look at them, the blonde one has blue hair and different colored eyes, and the black one has all sorts of marks!” Erika said, laughing. “My daddy says that people like them are sinners and should be shunned!” she added, looking over at me.

“They aren’t sinners. They just look different,” I said, walking over to the girls and helping them off the ground. I took them to a teacher and told her about what I saw. By that time, Rosanna had stopped being an idiot and had joined me. “Hi! My name is Rosanna, and this is my twin sister, Valentina!” Rosanna introduced us happily as she hugged both the girls. The blonde and blue haired girl smiled a bit, “I-i’m RaeLynn, this is KelHani,” she said. I instantly recognized her name. Her parents were very involved in our town’s church. “You’re from that super Christian family, right? You guys are both scholarship students. You can’t afford to go here, but because your families are super involved with the church, you get to come here for free!” I said, looking at KelHani, who seemed to be angry all the time.

KelHani nodded, “yeah, we are. My Aunt Kyren was also in the military!” She said, smiling proudly. 

The four of us became inseparable, always hanging out after school. I even remember how our older siblings met. 

“Ethan! Ethan! Hurry up!” Rosanna shouted as she and I ran ahead, we were on our way to meet RaeLynn and KelHani at the park with their siblings. We had known KelHani and RaeLynn for two years at that point.

“I’m coming, be patient,” Ethan told us as he followed behind, looking at his book while he walked until he nearly ran into two people. He looked up and saw a girl who was average height, the girl had midnight blue eyes and circular glasses that resembled the ones that Harry Potter wore, she also had bright purple hair which I often heard her describe as “Pillow Princess Purple”. Next to the girl was a tall, African-American man with bright blue box braids and a very dorky and stupid grin on his face. “Heyo! Careful, buddy, yer gonna cause an accident. Maybe don’t get distracted, aye?” the girl asked in a joking manner. She was RaeLynn’s older sister, and she was so cool. Her name was Rylyn, and she was sort of like an older version of RaeLynn, but Rylyn was less serious and anxious than Lynnie. “Yeah, especially when you’re watching after two seven-year-olds. That’s gonna get ‘em kidnapped,” the blue-haired boy said. He was KelHani’s brother, his name was Dyamond. He was also fun, but he was a huge troublemaker, and when Rylyn and him were together, it was chaos. “Sorry, you’re right,” Ethan said. He looked over at me, Rosa, Kel, and Lynnie before he went to mingle with Rylyn and Dymond.

Ever since that day, the seven of us would hang out all the time.

#writers on tumblr #authors #my writing

[stylespaynesme]

.

#I kind of wish i had read mpm before learning the cast #bc now I can’t imagine the characters in my own way #like when they say Tom all I think of is Harry #even when they describe his blonde hair and blue eyes I’m like ‘harry’ #or Patrick has a mustache but all I see is David’s face

[bwbatta]

six - confessions

Abstract: Draco and you are just friends so doing him a favour and pretending to be his girlfriend wouldn’t effect your friendship right?

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x reader

Warnings: Swearing, slight angst

Word count: 2960

A/N: I’ve been waiting for this one, turn it upp! ...I won’t lie, i’ve been putting off writing this purely because I don’t want to stop writing this. Anyway, the final part is finally here and I’m so happy to be sharing it with you all! 

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Part 5

Draco signed his name quickly and looked back at the letter he’d written. It was simple enough to get his point across, yet the repercussions from sending this could be huge. 

The blonde heir was adamant though. If this is what it took, then he would gladly accept whatever consequences came his way. He could figure it out, he always did. 

Taking a breath in to help stabilise his thoughts and nerves, he quickly put his quill down before he wrote anything else that wasn’t needed. Reading it through once more, he made sure his words were enough for now. 

Father,

I apologise for not responding sooner to your previous letter, I was at a loss for a while as to what to write.

I understand our family values and as much as I uphold them for our family’s benefit, my relationship or any of my relationships are my choice. Whilst she is not pureblood, she is not muggleborn either and both of her parents have magic, which is why I ask you to at the very least consider giving Y/N a chance.

With respect, I will not determine my relationship on your opinions, especially since you haven’t met her.

You understand there aren’t many things I would go against you on, but this is something I feel particularly strongly about. 

Regards, 

Draco

Nodding his head, he quickly folded the letter and attached it to his family’s owl. With a screech, the bird took off. 

All Draco could do now was wait.

“Please?! You’re the best person at charms that I know, you would be my favourite person on earth?!”

“Blaise-”

“Y/N please, Flitwick might push for me to be kicked out of Hogwarts if I don’t pass this test”

You snorted unattractively as you walked down the corridor, arms riddled with books. On your way to the Herbology greenhouses for your afternoon lesson, you were blitzed by Blaise who had been trying to convince you for the last five minutes to help him write his essay which was due in a couple days time. 

Blaise and you had nearly made it into the greenhouses when Professor Sprout stopped him at the door.

“You’re not in my class today Mr Zabini, I suggest you get heading towards your own class before you’re late.”

The elder witch gave him a stern look to which he smiled at, trying to lower her strict exterior. 

“I just need to talk to Y/N about something really important really quickly, Professor. It’ll only take a minute?”

“No” she rolled her eyes at the boy, “you can do that in your own time.”

“But, Professor-”

“No buts Zabini-”

“Alright Blaise, I’ll do it” you finally caved, seeing as the boy would most likely be reduced to ash from Sprout’s harsh stare otherwise. 

“Astronomy tower, 8pm?”

“Wait-”

“Okay bye!”

Without another word he turned and rushed off back inside the castle, heading to whatever his next lesson was, leaving you partially annoyed, partially awkward at the look Sprout was now sending you.

“Inside” she cocked her head towards the doorway and with a defeated look you headed into the greenhouse. 

You hadn’t been back to the Astronomy tower, despite classes, since that fight between Draco and you and you weren’t too keen on returning. Blaise however, had given you no choice in the matter as you probably wouldn’t see him until that time you’d agreed to meet. This meant you’d have to suck up your anxieties about the tower and get over yourself. 

If only it were that easy.

Your free period was rather quiet today you reckoned but you couldn’t put your finger on why it was so quiet? 

The twins weren’t around and neither were Harry and Ron, yet that was normal since you were studying in the library with Hermione. Though Hermione didn’t really talk much when you two studied, something still felt off.

Not to mention the other thing which was bothering you was how Blaise acted earlier? He was normally the most relaxed person you knew, but his earlier rushed and fretted actions also seemed wrong.

You snorted at the thought in your head; imagine if he was trying to set you back up with Draco at the astronomy tower later?!

Another sigh left your lips as you continued to try and figure out what else felt off. Hermione’s eyes darted from the essay she was writing to you sat opposite her. 

“Is there something bothering you?”

You met her stare awkwardly and shrugged slightly. 

“I don’t know, does something feel off to you?”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s too quiet, you know? I can’t put my finger on what it is though.”

“Maybe it’s because that blonde tumour isn't attached to your side anymore?!” Hermione snorted as she turned back to her work, leaving you staring at her with an unreadable expression. 

Ignoring the remark of how the witch had described Draco, she was right in the way that he did used to surprise you while you were studying. 

Was that it? You were missing him being near you?

You hadn’t really spoken to the Malfoy, only small comments in class when you were next to each other but apart from that, he wasn’t constantly next to you anymore and that bothered you. 

You had to admit you did like fake dating Draco, but that was over, it was a joke, a favour, nothing more. So why the hell would you accept anything to go back to him annoying you, him being at your side constantly, or his arm around you 90% of the time?

Then you froze.

You knew exactly why.

Holy shit, you loved him. Like actually loved him. 

Slowly starting to freak yourself out, you sat back in your chair as your mind whirred around that fact. 

He’s Draco. 

He’s one of your best friends and now everything was so messed up because he’s Draco.

Stubborn, bratty, arrogant Draco.

Who likes Draco?!

And then it hits you again. You do, you really really do. 

Because he’s Draco.

Because he cares about you and would do anything for you. Just like you’d do anything for him. He might be stubborn, but so are you. He might be bratty and spoilt because of his parents, but he actively spoils you just because he can. And he might be arrogant to everyone else, but you know how humble he could be and acts around you. His reaction after you opened your Christmas present proved that enough. 

Holy shit. 

These feelings are going to ruin whatever’s between you, friendship or not, because how the hell could you keep this to yourself? How the hell could you not tell him you loved him?

The only thing was... you were the second person to ask yourself that today. 

Draco paced in the tower, a letter held tightly in his hand as he waited for you to show up. Guaranteed it wasn't 8pm yet, but he was still so anxious for when you did actually turn up. Were you going to turn up?

A lot of things had flown through his mind today, some putting him on edge as to whether his plan to get you back would work, yet nothing had made him as anxious as when the letter arrived from his father earlier that day.

It was slightly wrinkled now from how much he had fiddled with it in his hands and with a frown, Draco tucked it back into his pocket, forcing himself to take a long breath as he did so and run his hands nervously through his hair.

Not even a moment passed before he heard the door below slam shut and your footsteps approach. A brief flash of panic flew through his body like he’d been electrocuted, what if this was a bad idea? What if you didn’t want him like he wanted you and he would just look like a complete idiot?

All the thoughts in his head however vanished as soon as you reached the top step and your eyes locked on his. 

Neither of you said anything at first and the silence was almost deafening.

“Fucking Blaise,” you rolled your eyes at yourself. “Earlier I bet myself he’d do something like this.”

“It was actually my idea”

“...I see” 

“Surprised?” 

You snorted

“No.” You hid your grin at the look of offence present on his face, “I knew one of you would come up with something like this. I had my money on Blaise as he was the one I spoke to earlier. Despite how much you love being mysterious and complicated Draco, you’re like an open book to me.”

The wizard let out a snort, he had a feeling she would figure something was up. They really did know each other well.

The silence stilted in the air again and felt heavy despite the fresh air surrounding them. 

You looked down, avoiding the blue eyes that watched you. Despite being in love with him, you had no idea what to actually say to him. Luckily he took the lead.

“It was really stupid.”

You frowned, before you forced yourself to glance towards him, eyes catching on how he was looking at you.

“What was?”

“The fact we thought we could pretend and fake an entire relationship with no consequences.”

You didn’t say anything. 

“I mean let’s be honest,” Draco scoffed a laugh, “we really thought that everything would go back to how it was before? That was stupid. Also the fact that the whole ‘having a fake girlfriend’ thing wasn’t really working for me.”

He paused to assess your reaction for a moment before continuing on. 

“We were great as a fake couple, sure. We were also great at being friends, I mean... that was before I kissed you and fell in love with you.”

Your breath caught in your throat at the confession. A smile grew faintly on his face as he took in your reaction. After realising you weren’t going to bolt, he took a couple steps closer until he stood right before you, his toes almost touching your own. 

“This whole fake dating thing was so stupid in so many ways except for one; how it made me realise how much I genuinely want to be your boyfriend.”

Draco shrugged sightly like it was no big deal, but inside he had to remind his lungs to work.

Why hadn’t you said anything yet? Maybe because he can’t stop his mouth from talking? Should he stop talking? His mouth opened again before he could stop himself.

“I want you. I want us. But I want it for real, not some half-assed, pathetic excuse of relationship which is all just an act and makes us question where we stand with each other.” 

His voice lowered to a whisper but you heard him perfectly. 

“Draco... I want nothing more than to be with you.”

“You do?”

“Yes, but I can’t help the fact that I’m not a pureblood and your parents won’t accept me-”

“Wait, okay, hold on.”

Digging his hand into his pocket, he fished out the crumpled letter and attempted to flatten it out slightly. 

“I sent my father a letter in response the one you read the other day and I got this back earlier today. Just... just read it.”

He held the letter out at you with such a serious expression causing you to frown, you took it from him wondering what was in it. Opening the parchment, your eyes immediately flicked back to the blonde once more, only to find him watching your every movement.

“Draco,

I don’t believe you understand the seriousness of what you’re asking from your mother and I. You have a duty to this family to uphold and despite the notion that you wouldn’t disobey me with much, this is still a vital factor of those duties.

Nevertheless, you expressed your seriousness for this girl, coupled with your mother’s bickering about at least meeting her, I will give you one chance. We will meet her if she values the seriousness and significance of our values. If she does not however, then you will end whatever you have with her. 

You understand in the near future, things will change. You need to be as prepared as possible.

Regards,

Lucius Malfoy”

You read the letter once through, then twice, then once more. Your mind was in a flurry at the words, taking them in and the weight they held. Draco’s parents had agreed to give you a chance, however it came with a price and one you were in two minds about taking. 

On one hand, you could be with Draco and support him through whatever hell was coming your way, as long as you abided by their blood purity mania, which, if Harry was right, meant Voldemort. On the other hand, it meant not having the Malfoy boy in your life.

Your eyes finally left the words and flicked back up to meet Draco’s own. His expression was unreadable as he waited for your reaction.

“Well, that’s intense”

“You can’t really expect anything less from my father.”

“I gathered that.”

Your eyes landed on the elder Malfoy’s name once more and you bit your lip slightly. 

“I said once I would be willing to get mixed up in this for you, and I stand by it, Draco. I don’t know whatever's going to happen in the future but I know I want you by my side through it.”

“I can’t ask you to do that-“

“You’re not asking me, I’m telling you I want you and I’ll do whatever it takes to be at your side.”

“Y/N-”

“Draco, I love you, let me do this for you. I can play whoever your parents want me to be.”

Draco didn’t say anything more but stared at you with a half smile on his face. Your eyebrows knitted together as you caught sight of it, not really sure where the expression came from. Talking about faking your views on blood purity and Voldemort wasn’t really a cause for smiling.

“What?”

“Say it again?”

“Say what again?”

“You love me.”

You realised then. You’d told him you loved him in amidst all that but you hadn't even realised it. Well, that’s one way to admit it. 

“I love you,” you said with no hesitation as a smile grew on your own face. “I want you, for real. No fake relationship, just us.”

As quick as you’d finished speaking, Draco’s lips were on yours. It was chaotic, unscripted and messy, but it was real. 

Your hands slid to the back of his head, fingers burying themselves in his hair as his hands gripped your waist tightly, pressing you to him. He kissed you with such passion you swore your heart stopped for a split second.

How the hell had you both faked this for so long?!

Taking a break, he pulled away but rested his forehead on yours, not wanting too much distance. 

“If you’re all in Y/N, so am I. I’ll protect you with my life, you may’ve been my friend first, but you’re everything to me now.”

His lips pressed against yours again, much softer this time like he was trying to memorise and convince himself you were really there. That this was really happening.

“Draco Malfoy, I’m all in.”

You were surprised the next day for two reasons.

One; for how many people had actually bet on Draco’s and your relationship. George got his five galleons back from Fred again after the news reached them. He happily took the money from his brother before lifting his glass to you from across the hall in thanks. 

Both Crabbe and Goyle owed Blaise 10 galleons, though you supposed he had an unfair advantage, (not that you’d tell the duo). 

But the second thing which surprised you was the letter you received at lunch from the headmaster himself. 

Dumbledore had barely even looked in your direction, let alone spoken to you personally, so the note you got from him asking to meet him in his office later spiked your anxiety. 

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” Hermione shrugged before lowering her voice to a whisper. “It’s probably something to do with the DA or Umbridge.”

“Hermione, I didn’t even think he knew I existed, now he’s asking me to come have a chat?”

“Just go, you’ll never know otherwise and you’ll keep fretting.”

The rest of your day passed quickly and you found yourself before the headmaster’s office later that evening. Taking another quick look at the note in your hand, scribbled at the bottom was a comment about him liking sherbet lemons which stuck out to you.

“Sherbet lemons?”

The gargoyle surprised you by jumping out the way, opening up the staircase to you. Without another thought, you climbed the stairs and knocked on the wooden door. 

“Come in.”

Pushing the door open, Dumbledore turned to face you as you entered the room. With a smile, he greeted you and offered you the seat opposite him as he took his own.

Sitting, your knee started to bounce while your anxiety kicked in wondering what the hell was going on. 

“Y/N- can I call you Y/N? Relax, you’re not in any trouble at all, don’t worry.”

“Can I ask then, why am I here sir?”

“Well, I actually have a job for you if you’re interested? I understand you’re in a unique position where you’re willing to do anything possible to be with the young Mr Malfoy.”

You immediately frowned, how the hell did he know that?!

“What kind of job?”

“A job to join the Order of the Phoenix. I want you to act as a spy for me within Voldemort’s ranks.”

#Draco Malfoy #dating Draco Malfoy #draco malfoy series #Draco Malfoy Headcanon #draco malfoy x reader #draco x reader #draco #draco malfoy imagine #draco imagine #draco malfoy x you #harry potter #harry potter x reader #harry potter imagine #harry potter headcanon #harry potter x you #harry potter series

[phoebe-delia]

Hey there! I’m enjoying the hell out of your short fics 😄 Still taking prompts? If so, how about some competitive flirting?

GB, it would be an honor! I love this prompt. And yes--I'm always taking prompts, so if anyone ever has a request or an idea just shoot me an ask or a DM and I'd be more than happy to write it!! I got this idea from a joke my Dad and I have because we make this face at each other to be funny, but I adapted it to be flirty for Drarry. I hope what I'm describing comes across here. If it doesn't, I put a gif of it at the end. Enjoy!

"'Sup?"

The first time it happened, it was on a complete whim.

Harry'd been eating breakfast in the Great Hall, surrounded by the other eighth-year Gryffindors, when his eyes just happened to wander to the Slytherin table.

Hermione noticed and rolled her eyes, and Ron--well, he was eating his potatoes, which were the only things Hermione had in competition as his true love.

Harry didn't care. He'd died, he could stare where he wanted, thank you very much. If his eyes wanted to take in the sights of blonde hair, sharp cheekbones and grey eyes, he'd allow them to.

Except this time, rather than scowl at Harry as he'd done in years past, Malfoy blushed.

It was shocking, almost startling, the burst of pink on his cheeks contrasting with his pale skin. Harry wanted more.

So he did the only thing he could think of.

He smirked--not arrogantly, he was confident that this was his attractive smirk, or so the mirror had told him during his practice session. The next step was to jerk his head up and back slightly, almost as an upwards nod, and with a small quirk of an eyebrow, Harry was proud to have successfully executed what Sirius had called the perfect "'Sup?" face.

It had the desired effect. Malfoy's blush spread from his cheeks down to his neck and he looked away. Harry turned back to his pancakes with a triumphant grin.

_____

The second time it happened, Harry'd had it planned.

When he'd packed for Hogwarts this year, he hadn't hesitated to bring the Marauder's Map with him; it would be his last year to use it, after all, and he intended to make the most of it.

He was glad to have a quiet weekend to himself. The eighth years had their own rooms this year, and this year he resolved to spend a day every now and then by himself.

But leaving himself alone with his own thoughts was a dangerous game--or, at least, it had been until thoughts of the war and grief and Voldemort were replaced with pale blonde hair and smirking pink lips and stormy grey eyes with flecks of blue you could only see if you looked close enough.

And a Harry with too much time on his hands and a renewed Malfoy obsession could only lead to trouble, or so Hermione said. But Harry didn't think Malfoy was up to something; this was harmless interest. That's all.

So when he opened the map and was instantly glad to see the name 'Draco Malfoy' in a corridor not too far from his room, he jumped out of bed and put on his shoes without a second thought.

He feigned nonchalance, even considering sticking his hands in his pockets and whistling as he walked, but even he knew that looked ridiculous. Instead, he gave himself a fake destination of the library, which was on the way, so he wouldn't seem like he was wandering around aimlessly.

As he rounded the corner into the main corridor, he found his target walking in the opposite direction toward Harry.

He'd have to be fast. Harry walked steadily enough to catch up to Malfoy at the right moment to perform the ''Sup' face.

He approached Malfoy, then it was smirk-nod-eyebrow, in perfect succession, and he strode away confidently.

When Malfoy stopped for a moment and sputtered, looking at Harry incredulously, Harry turned back around to face him. Still walking backward, Harry gave him a quick wink and turned back around, grinning to himself as he heard Malfoy's whispered, "What the fuck?"

_____

The third time it happened, Harry wasn't prepared.

This time, they were in DADA, and they were practicing dueling. In the interest of "inter-house cooperation," the new defense professor, Madame Hicks, was pairing them with members of different houses.

So, naturally, Harry shouldn't have been surprised when he was paired with Malfoy.

Unlike in their second year, Malfoy wasn't nearly as haughty. In fact, he even looked a bit frightened, wary. As though he was afraid Harry would take the opportunity to exact revenge on him and use the duel as an excuse.

But Harry didn't feel anger toward Malfoy, not anymore; not since the other boy had knelt in front of Harry and lied to his hero to save his enemy.

So when they approached one another, the sense of deja vu he'd been expecting didn't come, because this time when he looked into grey eyes he saw fear, and not arrogance.

Harry smiled kindly. "Scared, Malfoy?" It was teasing, but not taunting.

Malfoy blinked, and the ghost of a smile appeared on his lips, but most tellingly, his tense shoulders relaxed. "You wish, Potter."

They parted and took their places on the opposite sides of the room, not paying any mind to the other dueling pairs around them.

Harry let Malfoy take the first move, a Flipendo, which Harry was able to dodge by stepping aside just in time. The spell hit a table, which was sent hurtling into the wall but didn't break. Harry sent a Rictumsempra, which Malfoy blocked with a Protego.

They kept at it, throwing simple jinxes and blocking them easily. As the rest of the pairs ended their duels, the other students gathered around to watch Harry and Malfoy duel. The two of them were still at a stalemate, firing spells back and forth. They were panting and sweating, but neither of them was willing to back down.

Finally, they both paused for just a moment, and Harry made the mistake in that second of relief to look at his opponent.

Malfoy smirked, nodded his head back, and quirked an eyebrow. Harry's breath caught.

"Immobulus!"

Harry didn't register that Malfoy'd spoken until he was already frozen by the spell.

"Expelliarmus!"

He felt his wand fly out of his hand and into Malfoy's triumphant outstretched hand.

Malfoy stared at his own hand in shock, and the class was silent for a long moment before bursting into applause.

Professor Hicks canceled Malfoy's spell, but despite the embarrassment at his defeat all he could think about was making Malfoy blush again.

Freed from the Immobulus, Harry ignored his friends' attempts at consolations and walked over to where Malfoy was being congratulated by his classmates.

"Hey Malfoy," Harry smirked. "'Sup?"

#drarry #draco and harry #draco malfoy #harry potter #fanfic #prompt fill #prompt response #prompt request #phoebedelia #fanfiction #drarry fanfiction #fluff #drarry fluff #prompt: competitive flirting

[softholand]

in a heartbeat - h.o

pairing: harrison osterfield x reader

summary: dancing in the kitchen, a kiss, and a whole lot of feelings

warnings: angst, fluff

words: 2.5k

a/n: yay, my first harrison one shot!! if you feel like you’ve seen this before, you probably did lol i posted this yesterday but t*mblr decided to glitch, eat the two firsts paragraphs and don’t let me fix it, which was great :)) but it’s here now and it would mean the world to me if you guys read it and let me know your thoughts <333 ily all, enjoy!! xx

This was not how you expected your last month to go. Sharing a house with one of your best friends and another three, almost unknown, boys. It’s true that you also didn’t expect to find your boyfriend, now ex, in bed with another girl, and not just any other girl, it had to be your roommate. You were left with no choice, and no house, that’s how you found yourself at Harrison’s door all those days back. He welcomed you with open arms, before asking if you wanted him to punch your ex in the face, which you denied, even though he totally deserved it.

Yes, living with four boys was chaotic, but you couldn’t deny you liked being the “mom” of the house. You helped them with things that, before you, they had absolutely no idea how to do. Like operating the washing machine and how to properly clean a bathroom. It was fun and at the end of the day, you were grateful you had Harrison to accommodate you while you figured things out.

Yes, living with four boys was chaotic, but you couldn’t deny you liked being the “mom” of the house. You helped them with things that, before you, they had absolutely no idea how to do. Like operating the washing machine and how to properly clean a bathroom. It was fun and at the end of the day, you were grateful you had Harrison to accommodate you while you figured things out.

You had met Harrison through work and immediately hit it off. He was the sweetest and funniest guy ever and in just a couple of weeks, you two were practically glued to the hip. Okay, maybe you had a crush on him at the beginning but after not being very successful with subtlety letting him know, you gave up, and then you met your boyfriend and the feeling simply went away.

But now, sharing a house and spending most of your time with him, you had your doubts about said feelings. Like right now, where you two were currently doing the dishes, after a delicious dinner you and the boys had cooked. Harrison had his favorite playlist playing on the speakers, and while you washed the dishes, he dried them, sneaking some dance moves between each utensil you gave him.

Every Breath You Take by The Police suddenly came in and it was like your friend’s whole personality suddenly changed. He sang and danced to the lyrics while putting the already dry stuff away in the cabinets. His energy level was so high you couldn’t resist, joining him on his little performance.

You sang the lyrics at the top of your lungs, playfully turning your eyes to Harrison every time the song said “I’ll be watching you”, which made him laugh. At one point, he wrapped his arms around your waist, spinning you and your wet and foamy hands around. “You idiot, look at what you’ve done!” You smirked, splashing some of the soapy water at him. “No, you didn’t!” Harrison exclaimed, before also putting his hands on the sink, joining your little game.

Minutes later, both you and the kitchen were dripping wet, covered in foam, still laughing and playing around. Harrison kept splashing water around, while you tried to get away from him, without falling on your butt given the damp floors. Your laughter was loud and it didn’t stop until the song Iris by Go-Go Dolls started to play on the speakers. You immediately tensed, abruptly stopping your movements, which of course, caught Harrison’s attention.

“You okay?” He promptly asked, clearly concerned by your sudden change of behavior. “Yeah, no… it’s just, this was mine and Brad’s song.” You said, feeling stupid for even saying your ex-boyfriend’s name. “Oh, do you want me to change it?” He questioned, to which you shake your head. “No, it’s okay! I won’t let him ruin one of my favorite songs.” You sighed, propping yourself up on the kitchen counter.

In seconds, he was by your side, bravery putting one of his arms around your back, making you smile, leaning your head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry!” He mumbled, to which you scoffed. “It’s okay, Haz! It’s not your fault he’s a dick.” You said, managing to laugh, which was enough for Harrison to smile. “It just makes me sad seeing you like this.” The blonde breathed, squeezing your side. “Don’t worry, Haz! You’re already doing more than enough for me.” You smiled, facing him.

Only then you realized how close the two of you really were, mere centimeters between each of your faces. You took your time to admire, even more, his eyes. You never understood why people called it ocean eyes but after meeting Harrison, you did because there was not a word to describe the intensity his blue eyes carried.

Subconsciously, or not, he leaned in, meeting your lips in a sweet kiss. It was like the world stopped and everything you could think about was Harrison. He was in every one of your thoughts, invading your mind the way his lips invaded your mouth. Your hands were on his hair, while he kept pushing your body closer and closer to his until you were almost on top of him.

“Hey, Haz! Have you seen my…? Oh, sorry!” The sudden voice made you both jump, completely startled, looking in the direction of it. Harry was standing a few feet away, with an apologetic expression. You quickly got out of the kitchen counter and tried to avoid both of the boy's eyes. “I’ll just… go!” That was the only thing you said before taking off to your room.

“Man, I’m so sorry! I didn’t know…” Harry tried to apologize but Harrison just shrugged him off, assuring him it was fine. It wasn’t though. “What happened?” The ginger-haired boy asked, taking a couple of steps closer. “I don’t know, we were just listening to music and doing the dishes, we started dancing and playing around with the water and… fuck, I don’t know. She said the song was hers and her ex-boyfriend’s and I tried to console her and we both kinda went for it.” Harrison tried his best to explain, while nervously passing his fingers through his blonde locks.

“I mean, this is good, right?” Harry asked, knowing his friend's growing feelings for you, but Haz shrugged, shaking his head. “I don’t know, Harry! I don’t think she was ready for it. Fuck, I’m an idiot!” Haz groaned. “Hey, stop that! Just let her, give her some time, and then you can talk and solve this whole thing up.” Harry said, trying his best to calm his friend. “Yeah, you’re right! I’ll talk to her tomorrow!” The blonde sighed, going back to his kitchen chores.

A day turned into two, then three, and suddenly a week had already passed and you and Harrison hadn’t had that conversation. You spend most of your days in your room, getting out to cook, eat and help your roommates with house chores, not once directing words differently than “Good morning!” or “Goodnight!” to them.

To Harrison, you didn’t really seem to mind but he was honestly losing it. His friends could tell he was miserable for the last week, so they finally sat him down and talked, encouraging him to talk to you. Harrison was apprehensive in the beginning but after a little bit of convincing, he decided the boys were right, he had to talk to you. So when he saw you in the backyard, with a book in your hands, he knew it was his perfect chance to do that.

Carefully to not startle you, he opened the sliding glass doors and joined you on the patio. “Hey!” He breathed, getting your attention. “Oh, hi!” You said, immediately closing your book, having an idea of what was about to happen. “I’m sorry, y/n! I was an idiot and shouldn’t have kissed you without asking you first.” He blurted, making you sigh. “Haz, it’s okay! You don’t have to apologize!” You assured him. “I think I have!” The blonde whimpered. “You don’t! I told you, it’s okay! It just took me by surprise!” You said, taking his clammy hands on yours.

“Does that means….” Harrison trailed off, getting his hopes up, only for it to come crashing down at your next words. “I don’t really know what it means, Haz! I’m sorry, it’s still too soon, my feelings are a little confused right now to say at least.” The sound of his heart breaking was so loud, he was almost sure you could hear it too. “Oh, o-okay…” He smiled sadly, making your own break this time. “I’m really sorry, Haz!” You tried apologizing, but he was quick to stop you. “No, it’s fine! You don’t have to apologize, y/n!” He sniffed, and you could see a single tear fighting to come out of the corner of his eye.

You kept holding his hands, feeling completely broken for what you just did, but you were indeed extremely confused. Your feelings were everywhere at the moment and you felt like you really needed some time to think. “Listen, I’m going to stay with Elsa for a little bit.” You started, making Harrison widen his eyes. “What? Why?” He inquired, feeling guilty already. “I just… I need some time, Haz! And don’t get me wrong, I’m so grateful you offered me a room and let me stay when I needed to, but I think I have to stay away to understand what’s going on here.” You said, motioning to your head.

And true to your words, you left the very next day. Harrison hugged you goodbye and wished you luck, even smiled while watching you get into the cab, but as soon as he closed the door, he collapsed in front of his friends. “I’m an idiot! I shouldn’t have kissed her! Now she’s gone and it’s my fault!” He cried while Tom rubbed his back, trying to comfort him. “She just needs some time, Haz! You guys would be alright!” The brunette assured him once again, but Harrison wasn’t having any of it. “No, it’s all my fault! I screwed up and ruined our friendship! Now she’s gone!” He cried, getting up from the sofa, slamming his bedroom door.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into a month without you living with the boys. Harrison was terrible the first days, he felt empty and like it was his fault you weren’t there anymore. But, as everyone says, time heals everything, now, a whole month after, he was feeling better. He realized, on the time you were gone, that he could live without you, of course, he could, that’s exactly what he’s been doing for the last month. The thing is, he didn’t want to, he wanted you by his side, even if you decided to be just friends, that was fine, he just really missed his best friend and so, he decided to go to Elsa’s place, where you were currently staying and tell you just that.

When he got that, his hands were sweating and he could feel his body shake with nerves, having to take deep breaths to calm himself down. “It’s just y/n, Harrison! It’s just y/n!” He tried to remember but that was exactly the reason why he was like that. It was you, his best friend, the most beautiful person he’s ever met, the only girl who could make him laugh, and the only one who’s seen him ugly cry. It was you and your dreamy eyes and hypnotizing laugh. The girl that could make his heart do somersaults on his chest and the one he wanted by his side for the rest of his life.

Before he could even ring the bell, the door swung open, revealing you on the other side, carrying a trash bag. “Haz?” You inquired, surprised. “Hi!” He answered, feeling his throat suddenly dry. “What are you doing here?” You asked, confused with his presence. “I was— I was hoping we could talk?” The blonde murmured, swallowing his nerves. “Oh, yeah! Come in!” You smiled, getting out of the way. “You were living? I can come back if you’re busy.” Harrison asked but you just shrugged him off. “No, I was just gonna take the trash out but that can wait!” You chuckled, disposing of the plastic bag, before offering him a seat.

“So, how are you?” You smiled, making Harrison even more nervous. “I’m good! Thanks! The boys miss you though, I miss you!” Haz admits, making you blush. “I miss you guys too, trust me, living with Elsa is not half as fun as living with all of you.” You laughed and just then Harrison realized how much he missed hearing this sound.

“I know you asked for time and if you need more, I understand, I just— I had to talk to you.” The blonde started, ready to let his feelings out. “It’s funny, you said you needed time to think and when you were away, it gave me time to think too. I didn’t know I needed it but turns out, I did.” He laughed. “I— I like you, y/n! Like… a lot! And I don’t know but the last few days made me think about how much I want you in my life. It doesn’t matter if it’s as a friend or something more, I just want my best friend back.” Harrison breathed, looking into your eyes for answers.

After clearing your throat, you answered, “I want you in my life too, Haz! You’re my best friend and I missed you like crazy.” Harrison smiled. “And I mean, Elsa’s girlfriend is moving in next week so, I kinda need a place to stay.” You told him, watching his eyes widen. “This means you are coming back?” He questioned, to which you nodded. “If you and the rest of boys are okay with that.”

You squealed, feeling Harrison’s arms around you. “Yes! Of Course, we’re okay with that!” He beamed, before realizing what he did. “I’m sorry!” He quickly apologized, trying to move away, but you stopped him. “There’s one more thing though.” You said, sealing your lips to his. You were dying to do it since the last time he kissed you and now, with him in your arms, you could finally feel his lips again.

“Turns out, I really like you too! And this time away only made me realize that. I want you in my life, Haz! But as you said before, a little bit more than friends this time.” You smiled, feeling insecure until Harrison’s stunned face made you smile. “Are you sure? I don’t want you to rush things just...” You cut him off with another kiss and this time, he smiled into it, pulling your body closer to his. “I mean it, Haz! I wanna be with you!” You reaffirmed, smiling into another kiss.

Just as Harrison pulled you into his lap and went for another kiss, you both heard the song Iris by Go-Go Dolls playing. You gasped, looking at Harrison. “Did you plan this?” You asked, completely shocked, but Harrison shook his head. “I have no idea where this is coming from.” He laughed, squeezing your sides.”Well, it seems like it’s destiny then!” You smirked, kissing him again.

You knew one of Elsa’s neighbors was loud and always listening to music but at that moment, you decided to believe in your theory, after all, the song that broke you apart now had also brought you two back together.

✧･ﾟ tagging some of my mutuals ✧･ﾟ@soft-haz @bi-writes @duskholland @sinisterspidey @uglypastels @screamholland @sunsetholland @hollandharrison @wazzupmrstark @missnxthingg @farfromparker @londonspidey @mrs-hollandstan @osterfield-holland-andcompany @peeterparkr @rosyparkers @veryholland @hollandbroz-n-haz @hotforharrison @storybookholland

#harrison osterfield #harrison osterfield fic #harrison osterfield fanfic #harrison osterfield imagine #harrison osterfield blurb #harrison osterfield one shot #harrison osterfield angst #harrison osterfield fluff #harrison osterfield x reader #harrison osterfield x y/n #harrison osterfield x you #roommate!au #my writing #harrison osterfield writing

[plant-flwrs]

Can I request a ilvermorny transfer x one of the twins? I think it'll be cool if she wore roller skates to school (charmed by yours truly) since it's the 90s and she's cool but super sweet and caring - maybe when they invite her over to the burrow for the summer or their birthday she can give them a pair? Thanks ily!!!

roller skates // fred weasley 

masterlist!

a/n: ok i always feel bad when my fics take so long to set up and theres barely any like actual romance and i am trying to work on it. i think its hard for me to go into a fic where a relationship is already established, so i like writing them coming together and the immersion of it. but i hate reading fics where it takes forever to get to the good parts so just know that i will be trying to work on that flaw in my writing! thanks so much for reading! (i made the reader from florida just because my mind blanked on any other places that don’t have snow lol, but it’s not really relevant in any other situations so ignore it if u please) also just realizing all of my summaries sound scary and ominous also just realizing how i say way too much in these author notes im so sorry bye

summary: The American transfer student draws attention to herself with her accent, but Fred is drawn to something else about her.

(10.4k hehe sorry :D)

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Looking around at the students bustling past you, the only word you could think of was “proper”.

Looking down at your muggle clothes, loose and mismatched, your hair resting naturally, the only word you could think to describe yourself with was “improper”.

A boy with a permanent scowl and striking blond hair glanced your way, and the taller adults behind him followed his eye line. The three of them looked you up and down and their mouths all distorted into nasty grimaces. You felt your father’s comforting hand clasp over your shoulder, trying to help you remember everything he had said to you before arriving at King Cross Station.

“They aren’t that different from us,” he repeated, and you could tell he was doubting himself as he glanced at the uptight children and their matching parents.

He guided you forwards, and you pushed your large cart in front of you, navigating through the crowd. It started to separate around you, and even more odd glances were thrown your way. You supposed you should have felt a little insecure- you looked quite out of place- but the feeling could not overwhelm the excitement you felt. You had read all about Hogwarts, its history, its architecture, and you even picked up a few books about muggle London.

You were stood in your father's embrace, about to board. Your things were stored away, and you heard the train roaring louder and louder. You glanced around, the fathers in their dress shirts and ties, mothers in long skirts and blouses. Their children wore sweaters and jeans, or suit jackets and dress pants.

Something caught your eyes, though; a few feet away there was a large family, mingling in embraces. They all had flaming red hair, and their clothes looked like yours. In fact, your clothes resembled the oldest woman’s clothes, mismatched and colorful. Her eyes watered, and she smoothed down the hair on a fidgeting boy.

“Ronald, hold still!” she shouted at him, and he reluctantly allowed his mother to soothe his red hair down into a part on the side.

Once the woman had moved onto another child, Ronald roughed his hair back to the mess it was before. The woman now clutched a smaller boy, who looked like he was Ronald’s age, by the shoulders. She moved a hand to soothe his unruly hair off his forehead. Your eyes widened when you saw the lightning bolt on his forehead.

The books you had bought about the English Wizarding World did not neglect to mention the boy who lived. Elbowing your father, you both cast glances at the family. Your father nodded his head, looking impressed at the sight of Harry Potter.

“Thanks again Mrs. Weasley,” Harry said, and it sounded like he had said it millions of times before.

Mrs. Weasley waved off the two boys, who went to gather a girl with large bushy hair.

“Come on ‘Mione! We’ve got to get a good compartment,” Ronald said impatiently, tugging the girl's arm onto the train.

Mrs. Weasley was left with four other children. One of them looked like all the other proper British people you had seen at the station, a permanent sneer on his face. He shook his head stiffly at his mother and shook his father’s hand. You thought it was quite odd, and two identical boys standing with the family couldn’t contain their laughter.

“Yes,” one of them started, doubling over in a bow, “good day, mother,” he said pompously, imitating his brother.

“May you have a wonderful few months,” the other started, moving to shake his father’s hand as his brother had moments ago, “I’ll be looking for your owl,” he said, sounding incredibly posh.

The younger girl, with the same fiery hair, began to giggle, earning a scowl from the eldest brother as he boarded the train.

The girl pulled her mother in for a hug, and then her father, and waved to them fervently as she followed after her brother.

“You boys, stay out of trouble!” Mrs. Weasley said to the remaining twins, waving a finger at them.

“We always do, mum,” one said, and it was obvious by his tone that they didn’t often stay out of trouble.

They waved to their parents at the same time, stepping onto the train with a certain enthusiasm.

You averted your gaze, looking anywhere but at the family you had been staring at. You looked up at your father, hugging him one last time. When you pulled back, you heard his name being called.

“Mr. Y/n?” the voice called out, approaching the two of you.

It was Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, and Mr. Weasley already had his hand stuck out to your father.

“I’m Arthur Weasley, I’ve been the one to hire you at the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office at the Ministry. This is my wife, Molly. Funny to meet you here,” he said politely, looking at you and your father in a nicer way than any other wizard had during your time at the station. His eyes didn’t wander down to your brightly colored shoes, or your patterned pants, and he didn’t even cast a second glance at your oversized, offensively colored sweater. You beamed at him.

“Oh! Yes, it’s great to meet you,” your father said, shaking his hand. He squeezed your shoulder, jostling you a bit, “This is my daughter, Y/n.”

“Oh, would you hear that accent, Arthur!” Molly gasped, smiling as if she was astonished. Your father chuckled at her reaction. You supposed it would happen to you a lot at Hogwarts.

They both smiled at you, and Arthur offered you his hand to shake. You held your hand out, but the sleeve of your sweater swallowed the limb. You shook the extra clothing away, and Molly chuckled. Finally shaking his hand, you held it out to Molly. She bypassed your hand and began to roll up the sleeves of your sweater.

“Thank you,” you said, and she nodded, accomplished, at you.

“Better get her going,” your father said, and the Weasleys nodded at you.

“Have a good term, dear,” Molly said to you, patting your shoulders the way she had done to Harry.

“Thank you,” you repeated, moving past them and heading onto the train.

You waved one last time at your father, and the door closed behind you.

You wandered down the isles, looking for an empty place to sit. You pretended to look like you knew where you were going, hoping fewer people would stare at you if you did. Your plan didn’t work, and you caught the eyes of almost everyone you passed.

You had made it to the end of the train, and your eyes peered into the last cabin. It was empty except for a girl and a boy. They seemed friendly enough, so you slid open the door.

“Mind if I sit with you guys?” you asked, and the boy looked at you quizzically when he heard your voice.

“Not at all,” the girl said.

She had strikingly blonde hair and gray eyes that poured deeply into you. She had a faint smile on her lips, and her head was cocked to the side.

“I’m Luna Lovegood,” she said, and her voice was light and airy, “This is Neville Longbottom.”

The boy shifted in his seat, casting a shy glance at you. He raised a shaky hand and gave you a curt wave.

You smiled widely at the two of them, glad you seemed to have picked the right place to sit.

The train ride went fast enough. Luna asked you all sorts of questions about America, and you asked her all sorts of questions about England. When Neville warmed up to you, he asked some questions about Ilvermorny. They asked what house you had been in there, and you told him you were a Thunderbird, the soul of the witch.

“Where do you reckon she’ll be sorted into here?” Neville asked Luna. You leaned forwards, curious for the answer.

“Oh, I don’t know,” she said, peering into a magazine she had balanced into her lap, “but if I’m lucky, it’ll be Ravenclaw.”

“Which one is Ravenclaw?” you asked, trying to remember what you had read.

“The wise and witty,” Luna said, moving her robes to show the crest on it. It was blue with a bird over it.

“A raven, clever,” you said, looking closer at Neville’s red-trimmed robes.

“You’d think,” he said, “but it’s an eagle. I’m a Gryffindor, we’re meant to be brave but,” he trailed off, and Luna placed a comforting hand on his arm.

“Oh, stop it, Neville,” she said gently, her gaze back onto you, “there's Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin.”

You nodded, recalling what little you read.

“My dad said he figured I would be a Hufflepuff. The Ministry told him he was a Ravenclaw, he had to do the silly sorting hat and everything,” you said, and Neville smiled at you.

“Hufflepuff? They’re quite nice, I suppose,” he said, sounding disappointed that you weren’t in Gryffindor or Ravenclaw.

“Well, we won’t know for sure,” Luna said, closing her magazine, “until-” but the train’s brakes began to screech.

Her smiled widened, and you looked down at your robes you had changed into. Maybe now people would be less inclined to stare, you thought.

You were right, but only briefly. Once you had gotten to the Great Hall, you were shuffled in with the first years. Your face burned a slight red the whole time, your larger and older stature standing out amongst the sea of younger students. Your name was called, and you heard a faint whooping coming from the table of red.

You glanced at it, seeing Neville lowering a cheering fist from the air. He looked around nervously, and you saw one of the Weasley twins glancing at his quizzically. You smiled at Neville’s support and sat in the stool.

An old and tattered hat was lowered onto your head, and suddenly it began speaking in your ear.

“Hm, very interesting. You’re not from here, that’s obvious,” it spoke quickly, echoing in your skull, “but I think the choice is simple. I’d say,”

Suddenly the voice left your skull and boomed into the room, for everyone to hear.

“Hufflepuff!”

Cheers from a table full of yellow sounded off, some raising from their seats and clapping for you. You beamed, moving off the stool and skipping cheerfully towards the table. You walked down the aisle between the red and yellow, and Neville’s hand stuck out at you.

“Congratulations!” he said excitedly, holding his hand up for a high five.

You hit his hand, and he waved you off.

A girl with a yellow tie and dark hair waved you over. She inched over, giving you room to sit with her.

“I’m Sarah, happy to have you in Hufflepuff!” she beamed, and you didn’t think you would ever get used to the British accents.

“It’s nice to meet you,” you watched her eyes widen at the sound of your voice, “I’m Y/n.”

“You’re American! You must have come from that American school, what’s it called, Ilmorny?” she asked, ducking her head and whispering as the sorting continued.

“Ilvemorny,” you corrected her, still smiling.

Sarah asked you a lot of the same questions Neville and Luna had asked, but you didn’t mind answering them. She had even offered to give you a tour of the school tomorrow, with the promise that you would choose the bed next to her’s in the dorm.

Sarah had lived up to her promise. You walked with your head permanently tilted upwards, admiring the greatness of the castle. Sarah ate with you at every meal and even insisted on walking you to your classes until you knew the way on your own. She had been so nice to you, and when Luna told you about the upcoming Hogsmeade trip, you knew you had to ask her to go with you.

The two of you walked through the snow, wrapped up in matching yellow and black scarves. She had linked her arm with yours and pulled along to all her favorite shops.

The two of you ducked into The Three Broomsticks, sick of the ice sticking to your face.

You saw a red scarf and a blue scarf sitting at a table, and when you saw the flow of blonde hair peeking from the blue one, you knew who it was. You pulled Sarah over to Luna and Neville, and Neville told you to pull up two chairs. You introduced Sarah to Luna and Neville.

“We’re just waiting for Harry, Ron, and Hermione to meet us,” Neville said, smiling cheerfully.

“Oh, should we go?” you asked, offering to free up your chair.

“No, no, stay,” Luna urged you, pulling your arm back down, “I’ll introduce you.”

This was how you were going to meet Harry Potter, you thought, huddled up at a small table, drinking a foamy beverage that left a little white mustache on your upper lip.

Harry was just like every other kid, and he was with the people you had seen at the station that day.

“What did you say your last name was?” Ron asked, leaning over the table so you could hear him.

“Y/l/n,” you said.

“Does your dad work for the Ministry?” he asked, and you nodded, “Our dads work together!” he said, elbowing Harry.

“Her dad is the bloke my dad was raving about all summer, the guy from America,” Ron said to Harry, and Harry nodded at you.

“What a coincidence,” you said, dipping your head to take another sip of the drink Sarah had ordered you.

You all fell into a natural conversation, and Hermione asked to switch seats with Sarah at one point. Sarah had no protests, filing easily into the seat next to Harry, glancing at him dreamily.

“Will you tell me about America? I’ve been to other parts of Europe for holidays, but never America. What’s it like? How different are the wizards?" Hermione sounded off questions like she had them rehearsed, but you were happy to answer them.

You and she were in a fit of laughter after she had told you about her parents’ reaction to her letter. Your eyes were shut, brimming with tears, as Hermione recounted her mother’s jumping up and down.

You were so involved with your conversation with Hermione, you hadn’t noticed Ron’s brothers come into the restaurant.

“Hello, Ickle Ronniekins,” one of them teased, messing a hand through Ron’s overgrown hair, “when are you gettin’ a hair cut?”

“Mum’s gonna cut it all off the second you get home,” the other said, pulling a chair in between Luna and Ron. The other pulled a chair in between Harry and Sarah, and you didn’t miss Sarah’s annoyed sigh at the interruption.

You and Hermione were recovering from your laughter, clutching your stomachs and breathing heavily.

“What’s so funny ladies?” one of them said, shoving Ron aside so he could rest his elbows on the table.

“Just telling Y/n about how my parents reacted to my letter from Hogwarts,” Hermione sighed, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye.

“You’re the famous Y/n?”

“The American?”

Ron elbowed each of his brothers in their sides, frowning at them.

“That’s me,” you answered cheerfully, smiling at them, “Are you Ron’s brothers?”

“More like,” one of them started.

“Best friends,” the other finished.

“He really would be nowhere if it weren’t for us,” they said at the same time.

A smile slid across your face; it was easy to smile around your new friends, you found.

Hogwarts was better than you could have ever hoped. You wrote to your father nearly every week, recounting the amazing things you had done with Sarah, Luna, Neville, Harry, Hermione, and Ron. The seven of you were becoming inseparable.

Luna’s blue tie dangled over your face as you lay on her lap, she was trying this odd head charm she had read about in the Quibbler. Your head rested in between her legs, back on the ground. Her skinny fingers were pressed to your temple, and they hesitantly pressed into your skin.

“Is that right?” she asked, consulting the cartoon pictures that moved on the Quibbler laying next to her.

“I don’t reckon, it doesn’t feel like anything’s happening,” you said, sitting up and rubbing where Luna’s fingers had been.

“Neville,” Luna said, motioning him over. His face grew white as she pulled him into him, moving to where you had been. Luna’s fingers pressed against Neville’s head, and his eyes fluttered closed. Luna began to hum to herself, and Neville smiled.

You crawled over to sit by Ron under the tree. Sarah was talking to Harry, her eyes dazed over as he gently brushed off a leaf that had fallen on her shoulder. Hermione was near, her head resting on her bag, laying on her back with his legs crossed. She was deep into a muggle book you recognized, and you couldn’t blame her for not wanting to put it down.

“Hi, Ron,” you snapped him out of his thoughts, ending his obvious staring at Hermione, “enjoying the weather?”

“Yeah, it’s just about my favorite time of year,” he said, twisting a blade of grass in his fingers.

The snow had melted, winter break had ended. Ron was able to shed his mother's heavy knitted sweaters and wear some of his more comfortable shirts.

“I quite liked the winter,” you said, your head leaning against the tree, “it was my first time seeing snow.”

“Are you serious? Why didn’t you tell us that?” Ron asked, seeming bewildered.

“Don’t know,” you shrugged, smiling at him.

“Hermione! Oi, Hermione! Y/n had never seen snow before she came here,” Ron said, calling out to Hermione.

“I know, she’s from Florida,” Hermione said, uninterested, head still buried in her book.

“Florida? Why didn’t I know that?” Ron asked, feeling out of the loop.

“Don’t know,” you repeated, shrugging again.

“Because you don’t ask, Ron,” Hermione said, sounding unpleased with Ron’s loud volume.

You stifled a laugh, but Ron looked at you, feeling guilty.

“Hermione’s right, I guess,” Ron said, casting a sad glance at you.

“It’s alight, Ron, I won’t hold it against you,” you reassured, and Ron perked up a little.

“Tell me one thing no one else here knows about you,” Ron said urgently. To this, Hermione closed her book and lay it on her chest, interested in what you were going to say.

You thought about it. You didn’t have anything to hide from your friends, but you felt yourself blanking on even the littlest fact about yourself. You tried to think of any special abilities you had, besides being a wizard, or any life events that were significant. The only thing you thought of was the hesitance you had when packing your trunk for school, debating on whether or not to bring your roller skates with you. Ilvermorny had allowed them, and you skated to nearly all your classes. The school's cold granite floors were just begging to be skated across, you had thought, and it was ten times faster than walking.

You thought about your skates, you missed them more than you thought you would. The white boots with slick, black wheels and rainbow laces were one of your most prized possessions. You wondered now, again, if you would have gotten in trouble for bringing your roller skates to school.

“Oh, alright, I’ve thought of something,” you began, and Hermione sat up a little, resting on her elbows.

“I really like to roller skate,” you said proudly.

“Roller skate?” Hermione and Ron repeated at the same time. Ron sounded confused, but Hermione sounded entertained.

“Yeah.”

“Like from the 80′s?” Hermione asked, still sounding entertained.

“They’re making a comeback,” you defended.

“What’s roller skate?” Ron asked, looking between you and Hermione.

“It’s like shoes with wheels on them,” Hermione said, used to having to explain muggle inventions her friend, “You tie them up and you skate around.”

“What do you do that for? Do they go really fast?” Ron asked.

“They can,” you said, “but it’s really just for fun. I used to take them with me to Ilvermorny and go to my classes on them, but I didn't know if Hogwarts allowed them.”

“Why wouldn’t they?” Ron asked, “Are they dangerous?”

“They're not dangerous, I suppose you could fall on them, but it’s not as bad as that Quidditch game you guys play,” you explained, “I just didn’t know if Hogwarts allowed those kinds of muggle things.”

Ron and Hermione nodded, and Hermione looked to be in deep thought.

“I’m sure they would,” she said, returning back to her book.

“What do you reckon they’re doing down there?” Fred asked, looming over George’s shoulder as he held the Marauder’s Map in his hands.

“Do you think Ron’s finally gonna get a girlfriend?” George teased, looking at you and Ron sitting together under the tree.

Fred sneered at his brother. Ever since he had told George he thought you were cute, it seemed George wanted to push his buttons any way he could. He would make jokes about you and Ron flirting, and for some reason it made his blood boil. He hadn’t even spoken to you on more instances than he could count on a hand, but he was enticed by you.

Your eyes were always moving, and they were always wide with excitement. He thought you were beautiful, you were always wearing your muggle clothes when you didn’t have to wear your uniform. You dressed kind of like his mum, he realized one day, but in a cooler way. That’s the word, cool, he thought you were cool. You fit in easily with Ron’s friends, you could talk about anything, and you were always so sweet.

“Where are they going now?” George wondered out loud, watching the names on the map begin to move.

You got up and dusted off your pants, feeling the baggy jean material under your fingers. You helped Ron up, offering him a hand and pulling him off the ground. You, Ron, and Hermione trailed after Harry and Sarah, who trailed after Neville and Luna. You had all been feeling a bit warm outside, so you decided to go to the Gryffindor common room for the rest of the afternoon. You and Sarah were always excited to go to the Gryffindor common room, feeling it was a nice change from yours in the basement.

Fred’s eyes watched as you, Ron, and Hermione walked together towards the Gryffindor common room. He suddenly felt nervous, even though he was up in his dorm with George. He stood, and looked at himself in the mirror. He pulled down at the bottom of his shirt, tugging uncomfortably at the way it clung to his arms. He hadn’t been dressed to impress, and he usually didn’t, but at the sight of your name getting closer to his on the map, he ignored George’s torments and changed into nicer pants and a more flattering shirt.

Harry stepped passed Neville, who had forgotten the password, and held open the portrait for everyone as they stepped through. You, Sarah, Luna, and Hermione occupied the biggest couch in front of the fire, and Neville and Ron took the armchairs on either side of you. Harry sat on the floor in between Ron’s chair and where Sarah had sunk into the corner of the couch.

Sarah beamed at you, taking notice of the small action, and you wiggled your eyebrows back at her. She blushed and leaned over the side of the couch, resting her chin in her hand and starting a conversation with Harry.

Hermione pulled her book from her bag again, reading the pages eagerly. You and Luna sat shoulder to shoulder as Luna began to tell you about her plans for the summer.

“I think I’ll try to learn French,” she said, toying with some sunglasses she pulled from her pocket.

“You’re going to learn French?” you repeated, a smile pulling up your lips.

“I think so, might also help my dad with his plums,” Luna said, turning to you as she slipped on the sunglasses. They overcame her face, entirely oversized and wonderful. They were bright green and had purple lenses that were reflective. You could see your wide and amused smile in them.

“Your father grows plums?” you inquired, always enjoying conversation with Luna.

“Yes, they’re Dirigible Plums.”

“What are those?”

Luna pulled her hair back and showed you a pair of earrings she wore. They looked like little orange balloons, but leaves hung from them.

“Oh, those are very pretty, Luna,” you said, admiring them.

“My dad says they make you wiser,” she explained, “so he grows them in his garden.”

“And you wear them as earrings,” you said, smiling at her.

“Yes,” she nodded and gave you a crooked grin.

“What are your plans for the summer?” Luna asked.

“Oh, I don’t know. My father will be working, so I’ll probably be home all day,” you said, feeling a little lonely already, “I’ll have my roller skates though.”

Luna looked at you, confused, but you were more talking to Ron anyways, who you noticed was listening to your conversation.

“You should come to the Burrow this summer! Everyone does, even for just for a week,” Ron said, standing and moving over to sit on the coffee table in front of you.

“That sounds cool, I’d love to,” you said, grinning at Ron.

You looked around you and felt so lucky, lucky to have found such kind and accepting people at your new school.

Pacing upstairs, Fred smoothed down his hair before ruffling it again and then smoothing it. He knew you were downstairs, and he knew he wanted to talk to you, but you just made him so nervous. He never gets nervous.

George sat with his elbows on his knees, eyebrows raised, watching his brother obviously losing his mind.

“Just go down and talk to her,” he said, a little afraid his brother might explode, “you’re gonna wear a hole in the ground.”

Fred stopped where he stood, near the door. He sighed heavily and nodded.

“Yeah,” he said, swallowing hard, “I’ll just go talk to her.”

Fred recalled the day he had formally met you at the Three Broomsticks. He was smooth, able to mask the way your curious gaze had made his stomach flutter. He couldn’t very well go down there and make a fool of himself, could he?

“Oi Fred!” he heard Lee call from where he stood near Harry, which was also near you, “Come over here a minute.”

Fred sauntered over, forcing himself not to stare at you.

Hermione had put down her book, and Luna had left to go to her own common room to do some homework. You and Hermione sat cross-legged facing each other, playing a muggle card game.

“Yeah?” he asked, stuffing his hands in his pockets and leaning against the banister of the fireplace.

Harry and Lee sat at two wooden chairs near the fireplace, only a few feet away from the couch you were on. This angle allowed him to watch you as your head threw back in laughter as Hermione scowled at her losing the game. His eyes easily flickered back to Lee, who pulled him into the conversation he and Harry were having about Quidditch.

Ginny walked through the portrait hole, returning from some Quidditch training she had been doing. Ginny was taking Quidditch very seriously this year and had taken to exercising on the pitch with Angelina every weekend.

“Ginny!” Ron called out to her, putting down the newspaper he was reading. He waved her over with a hurried hand.

“What?” she said, plopping down on the empty space next to Hermione, “What game are you guys playing?”

You looked up from the deck of cards you had begun to shuffle as Hermione told her.

“Ginny,” Ron said again, pulling his sister’s attention back to him.

“Hm?” she said, and it was very obvious she was tired from her day's activities.

“Have you asked anyone over for the summer yet?” Ron asked, and his eyes flicked to you, “I just invited Y/n, so I don’t want it getting too crowded.”

Ginny looked over to you, her gaze becoming analytical. You raised a hand to wave and cast her a kind smile, and she returned it.

“I don’t have anything planned, it should be fine,” Ginny turned away from Ron and back towards you and Hermione, “When are you lot coming? At the same time?”

You looked towards Hermione, not knowing the answer.

“Oh, I didn’t have any specific ideas yet, Ron’s just asked me. Still have to write to my dad,” you said, and Hermione nodded.

“Yeah, I’m sure it’ll be the usual time for me, though,” Hermione said, and Ginny smiled.

“What’s the usual time?” you asked, beginning to deal the cards to you and Hermione.

“A few weeks before school starts, Mrs. Weasley takes us all to Diagon Alley for our school things,” Hermione said, speaking fondly of the memory.

“Should I ask my dad to come then, when Hermione does?” you looked towards Ron, “Unless I should come at a different time,” you said, not trying to intrude.

“That would be perfect! Harry comes ‘round that time too, so we’ll all see each other,” Ron said.

He looked over at Harry, and upon seeing his brother, he called Fred over the way he had done to Ginny.

“Fred, have you invited anyone home for summer yet?”

Fred’s gaze immediately went to you, and he found you looking at him too.

“Yeah,” he said, pushing himself off the wall and over to Ron.

“Who?” Ron said, curious because his brothers usually didn’t have people over to the Burrow during holidays.

“George,” he said, smirking.

“Git,” Ron mumbled under his breath.

“Why do you ask, Ickle Ronniekins?”

“I just wanted to make sure it wouldn’t get too crowded when Hermione, Harry, and Y/n come ‘round,” Ron said, squirming as Fred forced himself into Ron’s seat that was only big enough for one of them.

Fred’s cool demeanor dropped for a moment, his eyes widening. He quickly recovered, wrapping an arm around Ron.

“How considerate of you,” he said, giving his brother an unwanted side hug.

Ron got up from his seat, leaving Fred to sit by himself. He watched you with unblinking eyes as you listened to Ginny talk about her time with Angelina on the pitch.

Looking down at your packed to the brim suitcase, you glance to the corner of your room. Your pristine roller skates sat there, one on their side. They looked sad and forgotten, but you knew that wasn’t true. Ever since you had gotten home from Hogwarts, you had taken to skating around ‘muggle’ London. You had also just gotten used to saying ‘muggle’.

Your father left early and got home late, and part of you was jealous that he got to see a Weasley every day and you didn’t. To ease your envy, you took to your skates.

You weren’t sure if you should pack them with you for Ron’s house. You were leaving when your father got home for work, the two of you setting off just before dark. You shoved a sweater deeper into your bag, making room for the skates.

Your father was to eat dinner with the Weasleys, sleep on the couch, and set off with Mr. Weasley for work in the morning. No point in two trips, they figured.

You were traveling by Flu powder, and your father went first. He heaved your bag into the fireplace with him and erupted in green flames. You carried a backpack on your shoulder, filled with little things that couldn’t fit in your suitcase.

Fred was more nervous and excited than he had ever felt in his whole life. He was determined to chat you up this summer, at least do something to make sure you knew he existed. He had been pacing in he and George’s shared room, but George pulled him down to the kitchen and made him drink some tea, hoping to calm him down.

You twisted your fingers, looking nervously into the fireplace. You were extremely excited to spend the remaining weeks of your summer with the Weasleys, but a small part of you was scared. You were nervous that Ron’s parents wouldn’t like you as much as they did at the train station. You were nervous that Ron, and his siblings, would get sick of having you around. You were nervous that you would become a burden.

You had been writing with Hermione, and she ensured you of how kind the Weasleys were. She told you that you had nothing to worry about, and you felt a little relieved.

You had visited Sarah a couple of times during the summer. She lived fairly close, close enough for you to take muggle transportation. Her family was welcoming and all had wide eyes at your accent. Thinking of their kindness, you felt confident enough to finally step into the fireplace.

Green flames surrounded you, and within seconds, you were stood in a different fireplace. It was a little shorter, and you were glad you had hunched over a little. Mr. Weasley and your father were shaking hands off to the side, over by a large couch. Mrs. Weasley was looking into the fireplace and waving you out. Ron was trudging your suitcase upstairs already, and Hermione and Ginny stood by Mrs. Weasley smiling widely. You noticed Fred and George sat at a large wooden table near the kitchen both drinking some tea and eating.

You took a step from the fireplace, making sure to wipe off any ash that may have stained your clothes, and allowed Mrs. Weasley to pull you into a hug.

“Oh, so good to see you again, dear!” she said, rocking you back and forth in the suffocating hug.

You didn’t care if you couldn’t breathe, you decided at that moment that Molly Weasley gave the absolute best hugs. She released you, patting your shoulders and running a loving hand through your hair, tucking it behind your ear. You beamed at her, and she smiled back at you.

When she moved away, Hermione quickly replaced her. Hermione’s arms pulled you close, wrapping around your backpack.

“I missed you!” she said, smiling at you.

“I missed you too!” you said, nearly ‘awing’ at everyone’s kindness.

Ginny hugged you too, and when you stepped away, Ron had come back downstairs. You hugged him, and then Harry, and finally you were left to be able to breathe your own air.

The house around you was adorable. It was better than you could have ever imagined. Magic was everywhere, and everything just felt like home.

“You’ll be staying with me and Ginny,” Hermione said to you from her spot next to you at the table.

“Perfect,” you replied, the same awestruck smile plastered on your face since you had arrived.

Fred looked at you from across the table. He felt like his dinner was moving in his stomach, and his hands were sweating. He’d nearly dropped his fork three times. He breathed deep, and when the conversation lulled, he took his chance.

“How has your summer been, Y/n?” he asked, and you looked up from your plate to him.

He nearly died, your happy eyes looking at him.

“Great!” you said, wiping your hands on your napkin in your lap, “I’m glad to finally be here.”

He smiled back at you, and it took him a moment to realize he’d been staring for a little too long, and that you had asked him a question.

“My summer? Oh, my summer’s been good too,” he replied, nodding.

You looked to George, who was next to him and raised your eyebrows, inviting his answer.

“It’s been good,” he said casually, and then an evil grin spread across his face, “but I think Fred’s just about worn my ear off talking about you.”

Fred coughed, choking on his mashed potatoes. His face went red, and he looked at his twin with an anger George had never seen before. Fred quickly looked back at you, as if to gauge your reaction. Your head was tilted down, but a shy smile was on your face and a blush crept on your cheeks.

Fred’s anger subsided at the sight of it, but when George kicked him from under the table, he was reminded.

“What is wrong with you?” Fred asked, nearly yelling at his brother in the privacy of their own room.

“I gave you a push,” George answered, not looking up from the Zonko’s catalog in his hands.

Fred simmered, coming to the realization that George was right. He fell onto his bed, thinking back to the pink on your cheeks and the bashful curl of your lips.

He didn’t know how he was meant to sleep, painfully aware of the fact that you were asleep just a room away.

“Did you hear what George said to Y/n at dinner?” Hermione asked, pulling Ginny into the argument you were having once she got out of the shower.

Ginny shook her head, removing the towel from her hair, “No, what’d he say?”

You rolled your eyes at Hermione as she divulged into every little detail of what George had said.

“And Fred could not stop staring!” she finished, and you let out an exaggerated breath.

“He was not staring!”

“Yes, he was,” Ginny said cheekily, sitting down on her bed.

“Ginny!” you said, giving up hope of having her on your side.

“He totally fancies you,” Hermione said.

Your face twisted for two reasons: the word ‘fancies’, and the fact that she thought Fred Weasley might fancy you.

“He does not!”

Ginny sat on her bed, listening to you and Hermione go back and forth. She knew Fred fancied you, he had since they had been at school. She saw his longing looks, the way he looked at you first after he told a joke, and the pure admiration he had in his eyes any time he looked at you. It especially convinced her when Fred had been talking about you all summer. She came to a decision.

“He does,” she said, watching Hermione’s face change into the proud one she wore when she answered a question right in class. Your mouth hung open.

“What?” Hermione’s gaze turned towards you, and she smiled widely. You liked to think it was her infectious smile that made your mouth turn up, and not the idea of Fred liking you.

“He has been talking about you all summer, I’m surprised Ron didn’t tell you earlier,” Ginny said, bringing the towel to her hair again to catch some dripping water.

“He probably hasn’t even noticed,” Hermione said, the tone of annoyance dripping off her tongue.

Ginny flashed her a sympathetic look, but Hermione ignored it, continuing.

“Do you like him?” she pried, and the whole room felt like it was frozen.

They both looked at you expectantly, waiting for your answer.

You didn’t know. Fred was handsome, and funny, and clever, but you hardly knew him. You knew he was mischievous, and that he tormented Ron, but other than that you might as well have been strangers. You could not deny, however, that he was attractive.

“I don’t know,” you said, honestly.

“You don’t know?” Ginny repeated, confused.

“Yeah, I mean, I barely know him,” you answered, the obvious energy in the room shifting to something of deep thought.

“Do you fancy him, though?” Hermione asked, her eyebrows raised.

“I think he’s cute, yeah, but how can he fancy me? We’ve barely spoken to each other. Are you sure Ginny?” you asked again, still doubtful.

“I’m sure he’s noticed the little things more than you think he would, Fred can be pretty considerate when he wants to be,” Ginny said, and you breathed out loudly. You flopped on your back, the mound of blankets around you and Hermione soothing your landing.

“See? I wouldn’t know that!” you said.

You knew it was a little silly, to focus on something like this. You had an older, attractive, popular boy head over heels for you, but you were harping on the fact that you didn’t know whether or not he was considerate.

“You’re being ridiculous,” Hermione said harshly, “I mean it’s not like you’re forced to marry him. You go on dates with people to get to know them, after all.”

You were nearly offended by Hermione’s tone, but you figured she was just getting irritated on the subject of crushes.

“I know, ‘Mione, I’m just confused by it,” you reassured her.

“Well, test the waters tomorrow,” Ginny said suggestively, wiggling her eyebrows.

You cringed away from her, and swells of giggles were coming from Ginny’s room nearly all night.

The three of you slept late into the morning. The Burrow’s eventful noises were nothing compared to the sounds of muggle London, so you slept peacefully. It wasn’t until something began tapping on Ginny’s window, did the three of you wake up.

“What the-?” Ginny started but soon fell silent at the sound of a loud crashing noise. Shards of glass scattered around the room and Hermione was lucky that she had rolled away from the window in her sleep. You put your hand up, flinching at the noise, and when you dropped it, the warm summer air flooded into the room.

A small golden snitch was soaring around the room, averting every swipe of Ginny’s hands, and ducking behind her dresser.

Ginny slipped on some shoes, and carefully navigated through the glass. She leaned cautiously out of the window, and that's when the screaming started.

“Harry! Are you mental?! What on Earth-” her screams divulged into threats and insults, and you looked over her shoulder, watching Harry hover many feet away on his broom, his face looking quite guilty.

You found your shoes and moved over to the window. You then realized that Fred and George were hovering closer to Ginny’s window, silencing the snickers and amazed faces they wore. At the sight of Fred, your eyes widened, and his eyes met yours. He smiled kindly at you, and before you knew what you were doing, you ducked behind the window, crouching by Ginny’s feet.

You heard George’s laughter, and Ginny’s ramblings stilled.

“What are you doing on the floor?” she asked you, lowering herself to crouch with you.

“I don’t know,” you answered, whispering. Your cheeks were red and your eyes were wide. Ginny’s threatening look turned into a smile.

She began to giggle, and soon enough, Fred and George hovered just above the window, peering into Ginny’s room.

“What are you girls doing down there?” George asked, resting a hand on the part of the windowsill with no glass on it, peering into the room.

Ginny looked at you, her smile wide. You looked around and began to pick up large shards of glass.

“Cleaning up the glass,” you said casually, although you could still feel the distinct burn of blush on your cheeks.

You could only safely pick up two large shards of glass without cutting your hands, so you raised yourself from the ground, meeting Fred and George’s eyes. Ginny followed you, crossing her arms and smirking.

The boys wore their practice robes, their names and numbers on the backs. They both had discarded goggles hanging from their necks, and their hair was wild. You looked between the both of them, swallowing thickly.

“Could you keep it down?” Ginny finally said, trying to ease the situation, “We’re trying to sleep.”

George removed a hand from his broom and glanced at his watch, “It’s nearly 12 in the afternoon,” he said sarcastically.

“Really? Well, we need our beauty sleep,” Ginny said, and you noticed she nearly reached out to close the window.

George rolled his eyes and zipped away on his broom, leaving Fred.

“I’m gonna go get a broom, clean this up,” Ginny said, huffing as she navigated her way back through the glass on the floor.

You and Fred were left there, staring at anything but each other. Fred moved slightly up and down on his broom as he hovered. He finally cleared his throat and looked at you.

“Sleep well?” he asked, eyebrows raised.

You nodded and smiled, rocking back and forth on your feet, “You?”

He nodded too and looked away quickly.

“Oh, I think George, is calling me,” he said, and it was obvious George was not calling him. He flew away on his broom, and you closed your eyes, letting out a restrained breath.

You groaned and threw yourself on Ginny’s bed. Hermione rolled over, a large and entertained grin on her face. You covered your face with a pillow and ignored Ginny and Hermione’s imitations of the incident while they swept up the glass.

Mrs. Weasley was furious to see Ginny’s window. She had come in later in the day, a basket full of laundry on her hip.

“Hello girls,” she said pleasantly, “Do you have- what the bloody hell is that?”

Ginny’s eyes widened at the sound of her mother’s deep and serious tone.

“Mum! It wasn’t us,” Ginny leaped from her bed and ran to her dresser, she quickly caught the snitch from where it had been hiding behind her dresser, “It came through the window this morning when the boys were playing.”

Mrs. Weasley looked at you and Hermione, and you both nodded your heads furiously. She huffed out a breath and pinched the bridge of her nose with her fingers.

Finally looking up, she set the laundry down and stood in Ginny’s doorway.

“BOYS!” she shouted, and you heard the sudden halting of George and Fred’s laughter, and Harry and Ron’s footsteps upstairs silenced.

The sound of four hesitant feet walking to Ginny’s room was the last thing you heard before Mrs. Weasley’s screams burst your eardrums.

The Burrow was crowded now that the boys had been banned from leaving the house. They had only briefly been allowed out of the house to de-gnome the garden, but Mrs. Weasley stood at the door, making sure they had absolutely no fun.

Your suitcase lay open in Ginny’s room, the three of you dressed and having absolutely no ideas as to what to do. You had all already ran through your spending money going to Diagon Alley on your first days there, and without the boys offering some entertainment, the three of you were idle.

Ginny paced, looking through her own things with interest. She twisted her broom in her hands, offering the idea of Quidditch, but Hermione wasn’t interested. Ginny was scanning her room, and her eyes fell on your bag. A pair of white shoes with wheels on them lay tucked away in the bag. She walked over to them and pulled them out hesitantly.

“What the bloody hell are those?” George said from the doorway.

The three of you girls turned, looking to the door. The four boys crowded in the hall, all peering into the room with interest. It seemed they were bored too.

“Are those the roll skates?” Ron asked, mispronouncing the word and shoving past George and taking the roller skate from Ginny.

“Yeah,” you said, your eyes flicking up over the top of your magazine.

The rest of the boys filed into the tiny room, nearly all of them shoulder to shoulder. Hermione rose from her spot next to you, picking up the other one from your bag.

“I remember seeing commercials for these things when I was a kid,” Hermione said, spinning the wheel in her hand.

“Commercials? What are you on about?” Ron said, and Harry caught your baffled look and smiled.

“What are they?” Fred asked, taking Hermione’s seat next to you on Ginny’s bed.

You lowered your magazine and looked at him, only to find him already looking at you. He gave you a crooked smile and nodded in greeting. You successfully fought a blush and smiled back at him.

“They’re roller skates. They’re like shoes with wheels,” you explained, taking the skate from Ron.

You rolled up your jeans a little and slipped on the skate. Fred watched your delicate fingers lacing up the shoe, noticing the way your hair fell into your face as you looked down at them.

Hermione handed you the other one, and you did the same to the other foot. You stood easily from the bed and nearly lost your balance. It was lucky that Fred’s strong shoulder was there for your hand to clasp onto, or else your feet would have slipped from under you.

You looked down at your hand still on Fred’s shoulder, even though you were standing fine. He slipped your hand off but kept it in his hand. You then became aware that you were just holding hands at this point. He stood with you and turned to face you. He pulled your other hand into his, and pushed you away from him, smiling widely as you rolled easily on the hardwood floors.

Everyone knew then that they had found their entertainment for the day.

The sound of joyful laughter flooded your ears as Fred pulled you around the limited space in Ginny’s room. Your hands fit together perfectly, and he walked backward as he pulled you, keeping his smiling eyes on you the whole time. Soon he was pulling you into the hallway, and everyone trailed after. You felt Ginny’s small hands pushing your back, and you began to gain speed. Fred hadn’t caught up, and you were coming closer and closer to him. You looked down but didn’t want to put your toes down to brake, in fear of scuffing up the floor. So, you let yourself fall into Fred’s arms.

The two of you stayed upright, but his long arms were wrapped around your waist. Your hands fell to his chest, and his chin pressed against his neck as he looked down at you. His hair fell into his eyes, and yours fell gracefully in its natural place. You smiled, and he smiled, and soon you erupted into giggles at the silence behind you. George catcalled, and you stuffed your giggles into Fred’s chest, tucking your head under his chin. You felt him take a sharp inhale, and his arms became a little tighter around you.

When Mr. Weasley got home, he was accosted by his children.

“Dad!” They said in unison, all waiting for him by the door.

He jumped at the sight of them all, then began taking off his coat.

“Look at these!” Ginny said, pointing to your feet.

You did a little spin, careful not to make any marks on the floor. Fred watched you spin elegantly, your arms coming out a little like a ballerina.

“Remarkable!” Mr. Wealsey cried, moving to look at them.

Questions came from his mouth faster then you could answer them, and you slid the wheels against the floor under the table while you ate dinner.

“We had an idea, Dad,” Fred said, looking at you proudly.

“Yeah, think you’ll like it,” George added, glancing at you with a smirk and then looking back at his dad.

“We need you to conjure some sort of track outside,” Ron finished, talking with his mouth full.

“A track! That’s brilliant!” Mr. Weasley exclaimed, missing the worried look from his wife.

“It was Y/n’s idea, she’s brilliant,” Fred said, looking across the table at you.

You giggled as George made a gagging noise.

“With what? Stone?” Mrs. Weasley inquired, placing a hand on her hip.

“Oh no, they’re usually made of wood or asphalt,” you explained, “they have a whole building of them in the muggle world. People rent the skates and pay to skate on a big rink.”

Mr. Weasley's eyes widened with excitement, and Mrs. Weasley’s worry tamed.

“Let’s do it tonight.”

The eight of you walked to a clearing on the side of the house. It was where the boys usually played Quidditch, but it hadn’t been in use for days. Mrs. Weasley hadn’t stopped the boys from helping with the track, and you were grateful.

“Hold it higher, Ron!” Mr. Weasley called out, and Ron raised his father's wand with a bright orb of light coming from it.

The track was nearly done. It was huge, a large hoop secured to the ground. There was an enchanted orb of light in the center of the circle, and it illuminated the entire rink.

Your friends watched you blaze around the track, your hair whipping around behind your face, the sides of your cardigan flapping in the wind. You heard loud cheers when you successfully began skating backward.

The rest of your trip to The Burrow was spent out there. The boys were lifted from their punishments, and the rink became the one place you all went to when you woke up, and the last place you were before bed. Soon enough, though, your father appeared in the fireplace with your school trunk by his side. He quickly took back the bag you had been keeping at the Weasley's, and you went through your trunk one last time, making sure you had everything.

This year, walking through the train station, you were still stared at. But you didn’t care because an entire family surrounding you, and they all looked like you.

Your father gave you a lasting embrace before Fred followed you onto the train. He had waited for you, watching as you hugged your dad. He waved to your father, and his hand grazed your lower back as he walked behind you. The two of you found the compartment that had to be the most crowded of the lot.

Lee, Luna, Neville, Harry, Hermione, Ron, Sarah, George, and now you and Fred, packed into a compartment, the entire room filled with busy conversation the entire ride.

It was weird to be in the Hufflepuff common room, your bedroom devoid of Ginny’s huffs as she rolled over to get comfortable, or Hermione’s anxious mumbles she said in her sleep. You pulled your blankets off of you, your legs feeling sore from the constant skating you had been doing for weeks.

Speaking of, you had made the decision to bring your skates to Hogwarts. You slipped them on, tightening the rainbow laces. You pointed your wand at the wheels and cast a silencing charm, so the turn of the wheels would be silent.

You carefully climbed the stairs from the Hufflepuff basement and looked both ways before you skated towards your destination.

Fred had been sitting under his covers, looking over the map as he usually did before he snuck to the kitchens. Out of habit, he looked at the Hufflepuff common room for your familiar name. He was shocked to see you across the castle, in a long-abandoned classroom. He suddenly lost his appetite and slid into some slippers.

He rested his forearm in the crook of the door, leaning against it. He watched you illuminated by the candles lit on the wall. You easily glided between the desks, twisting and turning, spinning, and navigating between them. His eyes followed you, your body moving naturally. He watched the sway of your hips as your wait transferred from foot to foot, the skates rolling against the smooth stone. You moved to the open space in the room, skating backward, your back to him. You turned just a few feet in front of him, and when you saw Fred, your surprise ran through your body. Your feet faltered and you bumped into a desk, making a loud crash.

He jumped from his spot in the doorway, closing the door behind him. He moved to you in two long strides, crouching to reach you on the floor.

“Are you alright?”

“You scared the shit out of me, Fred!” you said, smiling up at him.

“Couldn’t help it, I had to come see you,” he said smoothly, bringing the map from his back pocket.

“What? How did you know I was here?”

He unfolded a piece of paper and held it out to you. You took it in your hands and realized what it was. Before you could look at it for long, Fred took it back, a worried expression on his face.

“Filch is coming, he must have heard the noise,” Fred folded the map and put it back in his pocket.

Suddenly, his hands were on your waist, and he was guiding you to your feet. He looked around the room and saw the door to the supply closet.

With a wave of his wand, the flames of the candles were extinguished and he was pulling your gliding figure to the closet. The door closed just in time, and Filch burst in. You and Fred were pressed together, his hands still on your waist. You opened your mouth to ask him about the map, and one of his hands covered your mouth. He felt your soft lips, and his eyes locked onto yours. You heard Filch’s heavy feet stomping around the room and the screech of the desk against the floor.

Your mind was occupied by the lack of space between you, your back pressed to the door, and Fred’s warm hand on your face. He looked deeply at you, and his face was inches from yours.

You thought back to the day Ginny told you about how Fred felt, and you realized that you no longer had any hesitations about Fred. Standing this close to him, his leg slid between yours, his chest against yours, you felt what he felt. You fancied Fred.

Fred felt your lips curl into a smile beneath his hand. It was dark, so he couldn’t see your face, but he wished more than anything that he could. He heard the door close, and Filch was gone, but neither of you moved. Fred’s hand retracted from your mouth, moving to your neck. His fingers slipped under your hair, and his thumb rested in your jaw.

“Why did you come here?” you whispered.

“I like to watch you skate,” he answered, his voice devoid of any laughter.

“You’ve watched me skate for weeks,” you said quickly, inching your face closer to his, craning your neck to look up at him.

“I like to watch you,” he said without thinking, “I like you.”

You closed the space between you two. His lips were slow, and so were yours. You arched your back against the door, anything to get closer to him. His face was warm, and yours was cold. His lips pressed hard against yours, and the kiss held everything he had felt since he talked to you in the Three Broomsticks. It was all the nights he had ranted to George about you, all the times he had mentioned what little time it was until you’d finally be at The Burrow, all the times he looked at the map just to see your name, all the times his stomach had flipped just at the thought of you.

You pulled away, breathless, and he lowered his head to rest on your shoulder. His breathing was heavy, and your eyes had fluttered closed. He reached for his wand and said “Lumos,” just so he could see your pretty face and swollen lips.

He walked you back to the basement, and you shared another slow kiss. He had almost followed you down the stairs, watching you leave with your skates hanging from around your neck.

The next morning in the courtyard, Ginny was the first to notice.

“What happened?” she said, skeptical of your dazed face and the constant flush you had from just being near Fred.

He sat a few feet away in his own world, avoiding George and Lee’s conversation about the upcoming Hogsmeade trip.

You smiled at Ginny, and she furrowed her brows at you. You were about to tell her, but Ron fell with a thud onto the ground next to you.

“It’s been three bloody weeks and Snape’s already assigned 100 pages of reading,” Ron groaned, pulling a heavy textbook from under his arm. Hermione and Harry trailed behind him, sitting with much more grace than Ron had.

Hermione also noticed your at peace look and looked at you analytically.

You were finally able to tell them in the hall, during an extended period between classes.

“He kissed me last night,” you said with a blush.

“I told you!”

“Finally!”

You hushed them, a bashful smile coming to your lips. Fred passed the three of you, his eyes locked on yours as he walked. Over his shoulder, he sent you a flirty wink. You felt weak at the knees and was glad that you were leaning against a wall.

“Maybe he’ll ask you to Hogsmeade,” Hermione said, tugging you off the wall and in the opposite way Fred was walking. You looked over your shoulder to see him walking backward, watching you walk away.

“Knowing Fred, he’ll probably pull some elaborate prank or get fireworks to spell your name out,” Ginny said, watching you look at her brother.

Fred did something like that, the two of you in the courtyard, laying in the grass. He had pulled you from dinner just after you were dismissed, and he led you to the courtyard. You both stared at the sky, and he looked at you. You met his gaze and then he pointed at the sky.

In huge, shining, red words read “Y/n, Hogsmeade this weekend?”.

You smiled at him and nodded. His hand snaked to cup your cheek still laying down. He pulled you towards him, and you moved to look down at him, propped up on your elbow. His lips met yours, and the sound of more bursting fireworks flooded the air around you.

It was nearly Christmas now. You and Fred have been dating for a few weeks, and he invited you back to the Burrow for the holidays.

You accepted, and you trudged your heavy bag into the fireplace. It was filled with gifts for the Weasley’s, and you were feeling quite confident about it.

Ron, Harry, and Hermione stayed at school for the holidays, leaving you, George, Fred, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley sat in front of a fire on Christmas eve.

You had called your father on your flip phone he had given you as an early Christmas present. He was coming over tomorrow for Christmas morning, and you felt incredibly content.

Coming back to the couch, tucking your phone into your pocket, you slipped back under Fred’s arm, curling into his side. Mr. Wealsey had already had a go at the device, and he just watched amazed at it fitting into your pocket so easily.

The next morning you were woken up by the sound of your father’s booming voice downstairs. You sat up, stretching, and looked over to Ginny’s bed. It was empty, the covers were thrown aside. You slipped on a large cardigan, pulling it around your cold arms and going downstairs.

You were met with what felt like a dream. All the Weasley’s sat around the table, eating a huge Christmas breakfast and drinking tea. They each wore matching sweaters with their initials on them, and your father was standing with Mr. Weasley by the couch.

“Happy Christmas!” they all beamed at you.

Ginny tugged you over to the couch, sitting on one side of you while Fred sat on the other. Your father stood behind you on the couch, and a pile of presents were stacked in the room. You had brought your presents for the Weasley’s down last night, and you saw them on the ground.

Wrapping paper was everywhere, and the sound of happiness flooded the room. It finally came time for everyone to open what you had gotten them, and Fred went first. He tore away the red paper and held the plain box in his hands. He shook it, holding it up to his ear and smiling at you.

“Careful!” you told him, and he tore away the tape holding the box shut.

Inside, a brand new pair of garnet roller skates. He gasped, his large hands holding a skate up.

“Oh, my-” Mrs. Weasley said, already thinking of the awful thing he and George could do with those.

“It’s amazing!” he exclaimed, wrapping his arms around you.

You returned the hug, and whispered in his ear, “Merry Christmas, Fred.”

Soon, all the Weasley’s were holding different colored skates, even Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.

#fred weasley #fred #weasley #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley request #fred weasley fic #fred weasley fanfiction #fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter #hogwarts #hufflepuff #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley x you

[liberty-barnes]

The Swear Jar

Part 1 of The Jar Series

Mob Boss!Tom Holland x Single Mom!Reader

Prompt: “I've never said a single fucking swear word in my whole damn life”

Warnings: swearing obviously, Tom’s a mob boss so there’s that, there’s like, one sexual innuendo but also ??? not really??? idk

Word Count: 4k (i really need to learn to write short things)

Estimated Reading Time: 16 minutes

A/N: It’s the pic guys, I can’t help it.

Edit: Wow, you guys actually liked this! So since many of you asked, a part will be coming out soon, maybe more, we’ll see. So if you wanna be added to my “The Swear Jar” Taglist, just ask me or add yourself directly through the link in my bio!

Main Masterlist || Series Masterlist

The bell above the door to the diner chimed and you perked up, smiling brightly at the young teenage couple.

“Gracie! Stella! It’s so good to see you again!”

The girls greeted you with the same amount of enthusiasm and proceeded to order their usual meal.

“Your hair’s really pretty Stella! You look like a mermaid now!”

“Thanks, Millie! I took your advice and went with blue instead of purple.”

The young girl smiled and captured the couple’s attention by showcasing her current work in progress.

Millicent Rose (Y/l/n) was your five-year-old daughter. She had brown hair, falling on her shoulders in nice large curls, and big (y/e/c) eyes, a perfect match to yours. She loved drawing (the diner walls were crawling with her masterpieces) and pretty hair, especially if it was soft. 

Her bubbly and fearless personality sometimes frightened you, but you mostly came to terms with the fact that your daughter was a social butterfly and took full advantage of the small diner to interact with as many people as she could.

You watched with a fond smile as Millie explained what she had been drawing to the girls, mentioning every little detail while they praised her good work. The young brunette had a gift to make anyone love her.

Soon enough, their large milkshake to share was finished and Lou, the owner and cook, was all done with the food so the girls sat down at a booth and Millie went back to drawing, little feet dangling off the chair and little brows furrowed in concentration. 

As you were refiling Mr and Mrs Lee’s drinks, the bell chimed once more and four men walked in dressed in stylish suits, much too fancy for this place. They sat down at a booth and started talking while you took a deep calming breath.

Oh, fuck me.

You took your notepad and walked over to them, a much too fake smile on your face.

“Good morning gentlemen, what can I get you?”

The table quieted down and you made eye contact with who you knew to be the leader.

“I’ll have a burger with fries and a strawberry milkshake.”

One of the twins said.

“I’ll have the same but with a chocolate milkshake instead.”

The other one added.

“Vegi burger and a coke, please.”

At least the blonde one had some manners. 

Your eyes lifted from the notepad to the leader once again.

“And for you?”

You did your best to ignore the slight tremble in your voice.

“Bacon cheeseburger, fries and a coke, darling.”

“Right away.”

You got out of there as soon as possible, sparing a glance at your daughter to make sure she was still sitting at the counter before entering the kitchen with a panicked expression on your face.

“Lou…”

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“You’ve got an order… for the Hollands…”

“Well, shit.”

The Holland family was the oldest and most successful mob in London, extremely rich, dangerous, and seemingly untouchable.

Harry and Sam Holland, the twins, were rumoured to have been behind the Burtons’ death, another famous family known for drug trafficking and other crimes.

Harrison Osterfield, the second in command, was a close family friend, accused of drug trafficking, illegal weapons selling, and other such crimes, though the charges all dropped before the first hearing even took place.

And finally, Thomas Holland, the leader. Arrested for multiple murders, arson, extortion, and a long list of other felonies, but never convicted.

Everyone was scared of them, and the fact that they were eating here was not good for business. 

You ignored the tightness in your chest in favour of helping Lou prepare their food, hoping to do it as fast as possible so the group could leave.

Meanwhile, at the booth, Tom was rolling his eyes at his brothers and friend’s stupidity. 

“Okay, we get it, she’s hot, but you don’t have to talk about it all the fucking time.”

Millie turned her head in their direction and scowled. She stretched a bit to the other side of the counter to take the transparent jar and got down from her chair, making her way to their booth, stomping a bit, which made her Sketchers light up.

The diner watched with curious (and slightly frightened, for the Lees) eyes as the little girl climbed onto the booth next to Harrison, one leg after the other, and kneeled next to the blonde, setting her elbow on the table and stretching so the transparent jar was now sitting in front of Tom.

He looked at it: a lid-less mason jar with a pink bow and right in the front, in a child’s handwriting and pink glittery letters were the words 'Swear Jar’.

“You owe a pound.”

He lifted his head to look at the girl.

“I beg your pardon?”

“When someone says a bad word they have to put a pound in the jar. You said a bad word so you owe a pound.”

“I’ve never said a single fucking swear word in my whole damn life!”

“That’s two more so you have to put three pounds in.”

“Yeah, Tom, put the money in.”

Harrison had his arms around the girl and a smug smile on his face, evidently taking a liking to the young brunette.

“Shut the fuck up Haz, you curse more than I do!”

“Four.”

“Shit.”

That one was not on purpose.

“Five.”

“Okay, okay, jeez, hold on.”

He took out his wallet and took his only five-dollar bill amid all the hundreds.

“Just gonna put the money in this stupid jar.”

“Six.”

“Wha- stupid’s not a swear word!”

“I’m not allowed to say it so yes, it is.”

Tom rummaged around his wallet for a stray pound, reluctantly putting a hundred in after finding nothing.

“Does that mean I’m allowed to say ninety-nine swear words?”

“No paying in advance, everything that’s not the money you owe is a donation.”

“To what foundation?”

“The ‘get Millie new glitter pens’ foundation”

She answered with a smirk and everyone -bar Tom- was pretty much crying at seeing their boss be told what to do by a five-year-old.

“Man, you are so screwed!”

“That’s one pound for you, Mister!”

“Oh shit, right!”

“Two…”

Harry took out his wallet (still laughing his arse off, mind you) and didn’t even try to look for the two pounds, simply putting in a hundred.

Millie’s eyes were focused solely on Tom’s hair. She climbed on top of Harrison, her pink tulle skirt flying behind her and stood on the seat next to the brunette, her hands immediately flying to his hair.

“You have very pretty hair. It’s really soft.”

“Thank you, darling.”

She hummed and kept playing with the soft strands.

“My name’s Tom, and these are my twin brothers Harry and Sam, and my best friend, Haz.”

She looked around for a while, not answering, seemingly lost in thought until she looked back at him and her sparkling (y/e/c) eyes focused on his brown ones.

“Nice to meet you, Tommy. I’m Millie.”

“T-Tommy?”

Sam stuttered out between peels of laughter.

“I don’t like Tom, Tommy’s better. Why are you so shocked Twin Nice?”

Harry looked appalled.

“Why's he Twin Nice?”

“Because you said a bad word and he didn’t, so he’s Twin Nice and you’re Twin Naughty.”

Sam did a little victory dance, bragging about his new nickname to his twin.

The little girl sat down on Tom’s lap and started to play with the black ring on his finger.

“What am I, then?”

She looked up to Harrison from in between Tom’s fingers, still playing with the thick band.

“You’re Thor cause you have pretty eyes and you look really strong.”

To say that the blonde was pleased would be an understatement.

“You, little lady, are my new best friend. We need to come here more often.”

Millie smiled and went back to observing the ring.

“Does this mean you’re married?”

Tom chuckled and shook his head slightly.

“No, it means that I’m a part of the Holland family, like them.”

Everyone around the table showed theirs, a symbol of their high status in the mob.

“So you don’t have a girlfriend?”

“Nope.”

“Do you live with your mommy?”

“No, I live with these dumbasses in a big house.”

She pushed the swear jar towards him and gave him what could only be described as the 'Disappointed Mom’ look.

“Do you like it?”

“Kind of, sometimes they get on my nerves and I wish they’d rot in Hell, but yeah, it’s not too bad.”

She slapped his hand in reprimand and he internally cursed himself.

“Don’t you miss your mommy?”

“A little, but I see my parents every Sunday for family dinner.”

He answered after placing yet another bill in the jar.

“Parents?”

“Yeah, my mum and dad.”

She hummed.

“I wish I had a dad.”

The boys all stiffened. 

Well, that escalated quickly.

Tom cleared his throat, measuring his words before speaking, for once in his life.

“Do you know what happened to your dad?”

“Mommy says he left cause he wasn’t good like her. She says it’s okay, though, cause we only need each other but my friend Lilly has a mommy and a daddy and she told me that sometimes when her mommy’s sad or tired he’ll do all the grown-up stuff like cook and read her a story while her mommy rests and she’s happier that way. I want my mommy to be happy like that too.”

For Tom, it felt like his cold, dead heart was starting to beat again. This little angel sitting on his lap was asking for something most children already had, not for herself, but for her mother.

“You’re a really good person, Millie.”

“If you stopped saying so many bad words you’d be one too, Tommy.”

The boys laughed yet again and they continued talking for a little while, refraining from any work-related issues for the sake of their newest addition, choosing instead to discuss sports and fighting over who’d be on cleaning duty that Sunday. Three more bills made their way to the jar during that particular discussion, one from each boy (bar Sam because he was on cooking duty, as always), and for once they allowed themselves to relax and simply be, instead of always worrying.

You got out of the kitchen with the men’s orders ready and looked at the end of the counter, planning to check on Millie before walking over to the mobsters’ table. Your brows furrowed when you didn’t find her and you immediately looked towards the girls’ table or the Lees’, finding she wasn’t there either.

“Mommy, over here!”

You followed your child’s voice and your eyes widened once you saw her sitting on the leader’s lap. The smiling leader’s lap.

You quickly made your way to their booth, placing their orders in front of them without even taking your eyes off your daughter.

“Millicent Rose! What have I told you about bothering people when they’re in their booths?”

She looked guilty for half a second but immediately perked up again, ready to defend herself.

“Not to, but Mommy, he said a bad word so I had to take the swear jar to him.”

“And why, pray tell, are you sitting in the gentleman’s lap?”

“His name’s Tommy and he said he didn’t mind and this way I can talk to Thor, Twin Nice and Twin Naughty better.”

Tommy, Thor, Twin Nice, and Twin Naughty?

“Oh, fuck me.”

Millie’s jaw dropped open. She’d never heard you swear before.

“You owe a pound, Mommy.”

“Yeah, I know, I know.”

You pulled a pound from your pocket and put it in, eyes widening at the amount of money in the jar.

“How in the world?”

“I didn’t have singles so I just put hundreds in. Apparently, it’s a donation to the 'Get Millie new glitter pens’ foundation.”

You set the jar down and shook your head in disbelief.

“I am never letting Harley babysit you ever again.”

She pouted and slumped down, arms crossed adorably in front of her.

“Now come on, let the gentlemen eat their lunch in peace and come get yours.”

She cuddled up to Tom more than before, burying her head in his chest and fisting his shirt, and shaking her head in protest.

“Millie, come on, let’s go. I’m so sorry for the bother sir.”

“It’s no problem, she’s welcome to say for however long she wants.”

The brunette smiled at your daughter and then at you, before the man on his right interrupted.

“Besides, she’s very entertaining. It’s nice to see someone else call Tom out on his bullshit.”

You and Millie threw the blonde matching glares while Tom just pushed the jar towards him.

“You owe a pound, Haz”

“Excuse you Tommy, my name’s Thor.”

He then turned to you with a smug smile and attitude.

“Cause I have pretty eyes like him and look very strong. Don’t you agree with your daughter… (Y/n)?”

He read your name tag and smiled charmingly while you pursed your lips, looking him up and down. You then looked at your little girl.

“You sure?”

“Well, who else has pretty blue eyes?”

“Captain America.”

She light up right away and straightened herself.

“Right! And he looks like Captain America when he was tiny! Thanks, Mommy!”

She then turned to Harrison with a gigantic smile on her face.

“You’re Tiny America now.”

The whole table -bar Haz- laughed and you had to bite your lip not to laugh too, instead linking your hands and looking at the clock.

“Come on Millie, it’s time to eat.”

“Can I eat here with Tommy, please?”

“If you eat here with Tommy I won’t be able to make sure you eat your veggies.”

The man’s heart stuttered when you used his nickname, a strange sense of happiness overcoming him.

“Tommy can check.”

“Mm… I’m not sure if he can check you ate them. He’s not used to your sneakiness.”

“What if I pinky promise to eat my veggies and eat a banana for dessert instead of ice cream?”

It was a struggle to get her to eat fruits and veggies. You usually had to settle for one or the other, so when she spontaneously decided to eat both, you jumped at the opportunity, mob be damned.

“Deal! But no annoying the boys.”

She smiled and nodded, settling comfortably on Tom’s lap, waiting for her food. You took out her plate of chicken nuggets, fries, and green beans, chocolate milkshake to wash it down.

You tried not to let the butterflies in your stomach distract you from your job but the way Tom smiled at your daughter and praised her when she ate all her veggies in a row, wanting to get it over with, made your heart ache, the longing for someone still very much present.

“Have a nice meal.”

You made eye contact with the brunette and blushed at the smile he sent you before waving goodbye at the Lees. The teenage couple had left a bit earlier so the mobsters were now your last customers of the day.

You wiped the kitchen counters and said goodbye to Lou, assuring him that you’d close up by yourself. As soon as he left, you took a deep breath and sighed, unable to stop your smile when you heard your daughter’s laugh carrying through the wall separating you from the group.

“Mommy, we’re done!”

You straightened up and schooled your features before walking over to them, taking away their plates while asking if Millie behaved and if they wanted dessert. The answer to both questions was a yes and so you came back a little while later with chocolate pudding for the twins, caramel ice cream for Harrison, a banana split for Tom, and a miniature one for Millie.

“Since you behaved so nicely you get a little sweetness with your banana.”

Her eyes sparkled and she smiled brightly at you.

“You’re the best mommy ever! I love you!”

“Love you too, baby.”

You turned around, ready to leave, when a voice stopped you.

“Why don’t you sit down with us for a bit? I’m pretty sure that if you wipe that table down one more time you’ll remove the paint.”

You blushed but complied, sitting down next to Harrison and watching as your daughter ate her dessert quickly and quietly, wincing from time to time because of brain freezes. As soon as she was done, she reached for Tom’s right hand. He switched the hand that held the spoon, eating with his left so that Millie could play with the ring on his finger.

Unfortunately for him, he had a bit of trouble eating with his non-dominant hand while holding a child on his lap, leading to a bit of ice cream falling on his shirt.

“Ah, fu-”

You shot him a glare that made him change courses immediately.

“-dge. Fudge.”

Millie clapped and gave him a big, approving smile.

“See, Mommy? He’s making progress!”

“Indeed he is, darling.”

“Oh, this is fucking hilarious!”

The young girl gasped, mouth open comically wide and utter betrayal swimming in her eyes.

“I thought you were nice.”

Sam realized his mistake as soon as she spoke, covering his mouth with his hand as if to stop any more of the offending words from leaving it.

“You owe five pounds.”

“What? Why? I only said one swear word!”

She shook her head in disapproval, arms crossed in front of her chest, and pushed the jar towards him.

“You made me believe you were nice so your trickster-y will cost you four extra pounds.”

You shook your head, smile firmly plastered on your face as you watched Sam pull out a hundred dollar bill with a pout on his lips. It was quite endearing, really.

“So, (Y/n), tell us about you.”

You locked eyes with the brunette once again, piercing gaze seemingly looking through you.

“I’m afraid there’s not much to tell, Mr Holland. I’m not a very interesting person.”

Your voice was soft, your words calculated. You knew that these men could kill you in the blink of an eye.

“No uninteresting person could have raised such a perfect little angel.”

He smirked and Millie looked at you with a smug smile.

“See, he said I was an angel.”

Life be damned, it’s not worth living if your daughter has an ego the size of Russia. That would most definitely come back to bite you in the ass.

“Yeah, that’s cause he hasn’t had to deal with you in all your nightly glory.”

She put her tongue out and snuggled deeper into Tom’s chest.

“Well, for one, how did you find yourself working here?”

He got the conversation back on you and you felt slightly intimidated with the whole table’s eyes on little old you.

“Customers are nice, I earn enough money for us to get by, owner’s nice, the school’s at the end of the street, and Millie gets to stay with me when she’s not there.”

Even though he was focused on you, you noticed the way he held your daughter close to his chest, his bigger frame completely enveloping her smaller one. She still hadn’t let go of his hand and kept playing with the ring on his finger. Seeing how calm and caring he was being with your daughter calmed you down and the more questions you answered, the more comfortable you became.

“How can you work at a dinner and not like vanilla milkshakes?”

Sam looked horrified at that, and you just shrugged dismissively.

“I never really liked when vanilla was too present. Like, if you used it to just enhance everything else you know, make it taste better, then sure, but just vanilla isn’t really my style.”

Tom took a sharp breath in and tried to stop his mind from wandering at the possible double meaning of your words. Instead, he chose to focus on the little girl on his lap.

Until he noticed she was asleep, that is.

He smiled a little and shifted her so she was resting more comfortably on his lap. Unfortunately for him, that caught your attention.

“Oh my, is she asleep? I’m really sorry.”

“No worries, though we should probably get her to bed so she doesn’t wake up with a stiff neck.”

For the umpteenth time, you pushed down the butterflies upon hearing him say 'we’ and being so careful with your daughter.

You took the remaining dishes and went to the kitchen, putting them in the wash and turning on the machine, leaving it to run so tomorrow morning you’d be able to put everything away. You went back in to clean the booth and Tom practically shoved a hundred dollar bill in your hand, ignoring your protests.

He waited for you by the door while you finished closing up, and you extended your arms towards him when you finished.

“Thank you for everything today, but you must be getting tired, I can take her from here.”

He gently pushed your arms down.

“Let me take you home, please, I don’t like the idea of you having to carry her all on your own.”

You hesitantly nodded and he guided you to his car. It’s only then that you noticed the other three had left. You settled on the passenger side of his black Audi and he handed you Millie, closing the door softly as to not startle her. He then entered the driver’s side and started the car. You gave him directions to your apartment building and within five minutes, he parked the car right out front.

Ever the gentleman, he insisted on carrying the little girl. Knowing by now that there wasn’t much you could do to protest, you agreed and led him up the four flights of stairs to your door.

“Sorry 'bout the mess.”

“It’s no problem, darling, I quite like it.”

You turned your head for a brief second, as if asking him to elaborate while still leading him to your daughter’s room.

“The fact that it’s messy means that someone lives here, that this isn’t just some house, it’s a home. My house is always pristine but that’s because no one’s ever there to actually use it as something other than a glorified B&B.”

He laid Millie down on the bed and you pulled the covers over her. You both stood side to side for a little while, just watching her breathe.

“That sounds really lonely.”

“Yeah…”

Another minute passed by with no words coming from either of you.

“You raised an amazing daughter, (Y/n).”

“You’re a good man, Tom.”

Hearing those unfamiliar words coming out of your mouth almost brought tears to his eyes. He was always used to being called a ruthless mobster, cold-blooded killer, or many other names that all meant the same thing: monster. But you called him a good man, and the sincerity in your voice was almost overwhelming.

He cleared his throat and straightened up, making you turn towards him.

“I should probably go… You should get some rest as well.”

You nodded and walked him to the door. In a split-second decision, you leaned up and kissed his cheek, locking eyes with him afterwards.

“If you ever need an escape, or just wanna hang out somewhere different, our door’s always open.”

That made a smile take over his face and he kissed your forehead.

“Thank you, darling.”

And as you watched him round the corner, only your back visible to you, you couldn’t help but feel like this wouldn’t be the last time you ever saw Tom Holland.

i have mixed feelings concerning this story but at least i have ideas for a part two (if i ever decide to make one)

don’t forget to reblog, comment or like if you feel like it <3

#tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #tom holland #libbys stuff #libby writes #marvel #avengers #mcu spiderman #spider-man #peter parker #peter parker x reader #harrison osterfield #harry holland #sam holland #single mom!reader #mob boss!tom #mob au #mob boss au #mob tom #the jar series

[onecanonlife]

In which Tommy travels back in time and tries to prevent a nightmare from happening to everyone he knows. Everyone else, meanwhile, is highly concerned.

(fic masterpost w/ ao3 links)

(first part) (previous part) (next part)

(word count: 4,081)

--------------------

Part Five: Niki

She has no idea what to expect from this server. It makes her a bit nervous, if she’s being entirely honest. Dream is a man with a reputation stretching between worlds, and when the letter from Wilbur first arrived, she didn’t know what to think. But she does find it easy to believe that Wilbur would take one look at a man with a position of authority and decide to cause trouble. Founding an entire country is above and beyond, even for him, but picturing it comes naturally to her. For as long as she’s known him, Wilbur has never been one to do things halfway. That’s not always a good thing, but—

You should come to see it, the letter read. It’s really something, Niki. Everyone’s worked so hard, and I’d love to show it to you.

So here she is, letter folded neatly in her breast pocket as she wanders down the wooden paths that seem to function as the server’s main thoroughfares. There’s been no one to greet her just yet, even though she’s certain her entry pinged on everyone’s communicators, if they were looking. But perhaps that’s for the better; the letter told her that Dream wouldn’t harry her, but that doesn’t mean she’s particularly eager for a meeting.

And it’s simple enough to find the nation. L’Manberg. Just a little further down the path, and there it is, just like Wilbur described to her, blackstone walls raised around it and tipped with yellow. She can see over the top from this vantage point, can pick out a few structures, a flicker of fire, and perhaps a few people moving about, though from this distance, they look more like ants. There is also a tower under construction outside of the walls, already tall but still uneven, clearly not yet finished.

She grins and picks up the pace. The entrance stands wide open, and by the time she makes it there, she’s all but jogging, and then, coming to meet her—

“Niki!” Wilbur calls, a wide, beaming smile on his face, and she laughs, barreling into him for a hug.

“Wilbur!” she says in return. “It’s so good to see you!”

“It’s so good to see you!” Wilbur exclaims. He returns her embrace eagerly, though he steps back after only a moment, resting both of his hands on her shoulders. “I’m so glad you came, Niki, I’ve got so much to show you. We’re really doing something special here.”

“I can see that,” she says. “I could see the walls from far off. They’re very impressive.”

“Oh, I know,” Wilbur says, and his eyes shine. With pride, with joy. “They’re a symbol of our freedom, of our refusal to bend under tyranny. But that’s not even the half of it. We’ve done so much here. Please, let me show you around?”

He’s already taking her by the arm, so it’s clear that it’s not really a question. Or rather, that he’s presumed her answer. But in this case, he’s presumed correctly, and he’s obviously so excited to show her this place, this place that he’s worked so hard to create, so she lets him take her on a tour. He points out some of the structures that they have—“Much better than they were before, Niki, though we’ve got plans for plenty of others.”—and takes her around the walls, and then to the stage—“We’ll have public events and such here!”—and then outside of the walls, to the tower, where he introduces her to Eret, a lovely-seeming person who’s evidently responsible for much of the construction work here. She’s certain that she’ll get along with them wonderfully. And then, back inside the walls—

“I saved the best for last,” he says, and leads her to a structure that he skipped over, a van topped with what appears to be a shape like a—hot dog? A hot dog on fire? A flaming hot dog?

“Is it a hot dog van?” she can’t help but ask.

Wilbur laughs. “Not quite,” he says, “though it does look that way, doesn’t it? It’s the camarvan, Niki, the camarvan. It’s where all of this started.” He takes her up the stairs and inside, and the interior isn’t quite what she was expecting, judging from the outside. It’s a bit grimy, a bit smoky, though nothing too difficult to breathe through. And it’s full of brewing stands, some of which are actively at work. There’s a door toward the rear, too, apparently leading to a back room of some kind, and she thinks she can make out somebody’s shadow on the wall, bobbing in the haze.

“I will fully admit,” Wilbur says, in a conspiratorial tone, “that this nation started out as an effort to get a monopoly on potions here on the SMP. A drug van, if you will. We didn’t set out to start a country, but when Dream threatened us, well. We really had no choice but to declare independence, not if we wanted to stand up for our ideals.”

A drug van. Her lips twitch up into a smile.

“And what ideals are those?” she asks.

“Freedom, of course!” he replies. “Justice! The fight against tyranny! And also a good bit of sticking it to the man. The man, in this case, being Dream.”

He gestures as he speaks, hands tracing adamant patterns in the air, and she nods along, keeping half an eye on the back room. The shadow stills, and before too long, a face pokes around into the doorway. One that she recognizes, blue eyes wide and blond hair messy, and this face is followed by another, one that she doesn’t recognize.

“Holy shit!” Tommy says, and Wilbur jerks, head turning. “You didn’t say that Niki was coming today!”

She doesn’t know Tommy very well. She’s only had the chance to meet him a few times, this kid that Wilbur all but adopted as his younger brother. She knows that he is brash, that he is loud, that he has a way of bringing all eyes to him that is entirely different from Wilbur’s brand of smooth charisma, that once he decides he wants someone’s attention, he is as persistent as a gnat that’s found an ear to buzz around. Though perhaps that’s not the most flattering of comparisons. There is some truth to it, though; Tommy, from what she can tell, often doesn’t seem to care how he leaves an impression, only that he does.

Really, she hasn’t seen enough of him to judge. But he does seem like a good kid, and in any case, he looks at Wilbur like he hung the moon. Which Niki understands very well; it’s easy to be caught up in Wilbur’s orbit.

“I didn’t know when she’d get here,” Wilbur says with a laugh. “Here, come out, both of you. Niki, you’ve met Tommy before.”

Tommy grins at her, and she can’t help but grin back. He wears the same uniform that Wilbur does, an antiquated long blue coat and a tricorne hat, and it fits him well. He seems to be at ease in it, in an outfit clearly styled for a soldier. He’s only fifteen, he knows, but in this moment, she almost mistakes him for older.

“This is Fundy,” Wilbur continues, walking over to the boys and putting his hand on the other’s shoulder, the one that she’s never met. His uniform is different, pastel-colored, and compared to Wilbur and Tommy’s, not very well-made. “He’s my son.” He smiles. “My little champion.”

Something about that timeline has to be off—Wilbur is in his mid-twenties, and this boy looks to be about Tommy’s age, perhaps even a little older. So there’s something strange about that, but perhaps he’s adopted; Wilbur has a habit of adopting things, bringing people close. Or perhaps there’s something else at work. Either way, it seems rude to press at this second, so she smiles in greeting, noting the way that the boy’s ears are twitching—fox ears. A hybrid, or perhaps a shapeshifter? That might explain the incongruities.

“It’s nice to meet you, Fundy,” she says.

“Nice to meet you too,” Fundy says. His voice is resigned, perhaps a bit sullen, and she gets the impression that there’s definitely something going on that she’s not privy to. Whatever it is, though, Wilbur seems unaffected, as he keeps his hand on Fundy’s shoulder, still smiling.

“Fundy was the first citizen of L’Manberg,” he says. “He was born right here, inside the walls. A bit before they were constructed, of course, but it still counts.”

“Yeah, yeah, we’ve all heard the story,” Tommy jumps in, and she doesn’t think she mistakes the look of relief that flashes across Fundy’s face as Wilbur turns his attention elsewhere. She fidgets, shifting her weight between her feet.

“Well, Niki hasn’t—” Wil starts, but Fundy cuts in.

“And it was great to meet her,” Fundy says, looking between everyone. “Great to meet you! But I’ve actually got something to do elsewhere, so I’m just going to go and do that. Right now, actually. So, I’ll catch you later!” He ducks out from under Wilbur’s grasp, heading for the door. “You coming, Tommy?”

“Be there in a second,” Tommy says. “I’ll just tidy up in there and meet you in a bit, yeah?”

Fundy nods, and then he’s out the door. Wilbur stares after him fondly, and Tommy takes the opportunity to grin at her again—and is it just her, or does that smile seem strained, now?—and he ducks back into the room that he came out of. A second later, there is a clattering sound, glass clinking together repeatedly.

“It’s all for him, really,” Wilbur says, voice soft. “The walls, this country, all of it. Him and everyone, but—it’s all so they can be safe and free. That’s all I want.”

“It’s a good goal,” she says, and his attention finally turns back to her. “It looks to me like you’ve made a great start.”

“I’m glad you think so,” he says, and leans against one of the counters, between two of the brewing stands. “This means a lot to me. This nation, it’s like—a second child, sort of. I’ve got to give everything I can to make it as good as it can be. I really do mean it when I say that it stands for something. Something important.” He pauses, tilting his head. “I am thinking about holding an election, though. Just a little something to consolidate power, nothing big. But I need the authority to guide L’Manberg to its future. Because I’ll tell you, Niki, that future is looking bright.”

She tilts her head, too, mirroring him. “Would there even be anyone to run against you?” she asks. Consolidating power. That doesn’t sound like the sort of thing that an election would help very much with.

He chuckles. “Not that I can think of. That’s sort of the beauty of it,” he says, and then, suddenly, Tommy emerges from the room again. He’s got a couple of potions cradled under his arm, shimmering with a pink glow.

“Wilbur,” he says, and Niki blinks, because his tone is a far cry from a few moments ago, is low and serious in a way she��s not certain she’s ever heard from the boy. “If you’re serious about the election thing, you’ve got to be careful with it.”

It’s an odd response to an offhand comment, and obviously, Wilbur agrees, as he arches a brow, regarding Tommy with a bit of confusion. “What are you on about now?” he asks, gently exasperated.

“It’s easy for things like that to go wrong,” Tommy states. “It might not—it might not go how you’re expecting it to go, you know? So, I think you should open it up so that anyone can run, so that way, when you win, nobody doubts the results and all. But—but Wilbur, here’s the thing, you can’t—I need you to promise me that you won’t invite Schlatt to the server, alright? Don’t have him come and endorse you, don’t even let him step foot in L’Manberg. Don’t have him come here, okay?”

It’s not a name she recognizes. But Wilbur seems to, because he wrinkles his nose.

“Why the hell would I have Schlatt come here?” he says. “Dream banned him anyway, don’t you remember?”

“I know, I know, just, just don’t, okay?” Tommy takes another step closer. His shoulders are tense. “Wilbur, I’m serious about this.”

“Alright, I won’t, I promise,” Wil says, and immediately, Tommy relaxes. There is still a look in his eyes, though, a look of wariness, and the sample size she’s drawing from is small but she thinks it’s still safe to say that she’s never seen him direct that expression at Wilbur before. “Tommy, why—”

“I’m going to go catch up with Fundy now,” Tommy says. “See you later, Wilbur. And Niki, you too. It’s—really good to see you, Niki. I’m glad you’re here.”

The earnestness in his voice catches her off guard. He sounds completely genuine, genuine in a way that she doesn’t really expect from someone like TommyInnit. Because Tommy is loud and Tommy is brash, but she has never known him to be so open. But then again, she doesn’t know him that well. She needs to keep reminding herself of that, needs to keep reminding herself that everyone has depths to them, no matter how uncomplicated they might seem on the surface. She deals with people making snap judgments about her too often to do the same to someone else.

“I’m glad to be here, too,” she says, and then, Tommy is gone, the door to the camarvan swinging shut behind him. She can already hear him calling out for Fundy, and someone named Tubbo, his volume cranked back up to an eleven, like the previous minute or so never happened at all.

Wilbur sighs suddenly, pinching the bridge of his nose. He seems to sag a bit, his perfect posture deflating into something more casual, more—defeated doesn’t quite seem to be the right word, but weary, perhaps.

“He keeps doing this, Niki,” he all but moans. “He keeps saying things that don’t make any sense as if they’re the most important things in the universe.”

“Do you think he’s okay?” she asks, already struggling to find something to say that will help. But the problem is, she just doesn’t know Tommy all that well. She’d like that to change, especially if she decides that she’s here to stay. But right now, she doesn’t know enough to help, and she doesn’t like that.

“I think so,” Wil says. “I hope so. I wanted to tell you while he was still here—he gets all embarrassed whenever I bring it up, it’s hilarious, but Tommy’s the reason that we have our freedom at all. He traded a couple of his most valued possessions to Dream in exchange for L’Manberg’s autonomy. It was a real sacrifice play. I’m very proud of him. But he hasn’t been quite the same since then.” He sighs again. “I’m worried that he’s more hurt by it than he’s been letting on. I’m trying to be there for him, but it’s been—difficult, these past few weeks.” He smiles slightly, meeting her eyes. “Turns out that running a country is a lot of work. Who knew, right?”

“As long as you’re trying your best, I’m sure he appreciates that,” she says. “And I’m sure he’s got other friends as well that he can turn to, right?”

“He does,” Wil says, frustration leaking into his tone, “he does, I know he does, but—I’m supposed to be looking after him, right? We’re like family. Like brothers, pretty much. And the older brother is supposed to look out for the younger. That’s the job.” He leans back further, crossing one leg over the other, and Niki is struck, suddenly, with the idea that he looks very, very tired. There are bags under his eyes that she didn’t notice right away, but now that she’s seen them, she can’t unsee them. “But he’s being weird about it—and do you know, we’ve actually got a few new citizens because of him. There’s this guy, Quackity, and I wasn’t going to let him join, but Tommy kept at me until I gave in. And then just the other day, I went to a meeting, and when I get back, it turns out that he’s snuck in another guy right under my nose. Jack Manifold. Gave him a uniform and everything. And what am I supposed to do, say no?”

Throughout, his voice becomes more and more petulant, and she pushes down the urge to laugh.

“It just sounds to me like he’s making new friends,” she says, and once again, Wilbur sighs, this time much more dramatically.

“I suppose,” he says, sounding very put upon. “I wish he’d just come to me, though.”

“I’m sure he will in time,” she says. “I don’t know him that well yet, but from what I’ve seen, he thinks the world of you. I’m sure he’ll come talk to you when he’s ready.”

Thankfully, Wilbur perks up a bit at this.

“Thanks, Niki,” he says. “You’re probably right.” He shakes his head ruefully, and then smiles. “He beat me to the punch, but I am also very glad you’re here.”

“I’m glad to be here,” she repeats. “Really, I’m glad you sent me that letter.” And then, because she can’t resist, and because his posture still seems to scream tiredness, she asks, “Are you holding up alright? With all of this? I know you said it was a lot of work.”

For a fleeting moment, a fraction of a second, his eyes widen marginally, and the expression passes so quickly that in the murk of the room, she can’t even be sure that she saw it at all.

“Just fine,” he says brightly. “It’s all worth it. L’Manberg is going to be the pinnacle of freedom and prosperity of the Dream SMP. Which actually reminds me, I have a meeting that I need to be getting to. Dream’s been more generous than I expected with border agreements, but we still don’t have everything ironed out as far as trade goes. So I’m afraid that I’m going to have to leave you.”

“Of course, I understand,” she says, and squashes the little voices that starts to murmur disappointedly. She knew from the beginning, of course, that Wilbur would likely be very busy. Still, she supposes that she just hoped she would have more of an opportunity to catch up with an old friend.

Wilbur holds the door open for her as they exit the camarvan, and then one last smile and he’s striding off toward one of the far buildings, one that looks like it might conceivably be a good place for an office. She watches him go, his back straight and strides purposeful. And then, she looks around. There’s still plenty of things to do, after all, and plenty of people she hasn’t met. So she decides to do a bit of exploring on her own.

But it’s not even ten minutes before she runs into Fundy again. He’s crouched over a pool of water, staring at the fish, though he doesn’t seem to have a rod or anything of that sort. She hesitates a moment, wondering if he would rather be alone, before deciding that if he tells her so, she’ll leave without objection.

“Hello again,” she says. “It’s Fundy, right?”

He doesn’t seem surprised that she’s there, even though she made little noise on her approach, and when he looks up at her, she sees the probable reason why; his face is now that of a fox, snout and all. A shapeshifter, then. Behind him, his tail lashes back and forth.

“Oh,” he says. “Hi! That’s me! And you’re Niki, right?”

She nods. “I was hoping to get to get to know some of the people here,” she says. “I think I might be staying.”

She doesn’t know that she’s going to say it until she does, but as soon as the words leave her mouth, she realizes that it was her intention all along. She needed to see the country to finalize her decision, but really, there’s not much for her where she’s living now. A quiet life, some friendly acquaintances, an empty house. Here, there are friends and a cause to believe in, and she wants to be a part of it.

To her bemusement, though, Fundy seems to wilt a little bit.

“Did Wil have to go back to work, then?” he asks, turning his attention back to the pool. His tail swishes again, perhaps in agitation, though she doesn’t know enough about fox body language to be sure.

“He said he has a meeting,” she says, somewhat hesitantly.

“He says that a lot these days,” Fundy mutters. “And when it’s not a meeting, it’s paperwork. Or construction plans. Or just a vague, general thing that makes him super busy that I don’t need to worry about or help him with, so go find something to do, Fundy. But it’s fine.”

She’s stumbled into something that she’s not equipped to be in the middle of, she thinks.

“It does seem like he’s really busy,” she tries. Maybe Fundy just needs to get this off his chest. In that case, a listening ear is something she can provide.

“I know he’s really busy,” Fundy answers. “I just wish he’d let me do something. He keeps treating me like I’m some little kid. I’m not a little kid. I know I grew up quick, or whatever, but I’m not a kid. I fought in the revolution. I even made my own uniform!”

That explains—several things. Why the uniform looks so different, so haphazard. And also why Wilbur has a son who’s nearly fully grown, if he aged on a timeline more akin to that of the creature he shifts into.

“Well then, maybe you could help me make one, too,” she says. “I might want to have one of my own, if everyone else is wearing them.” She pauses. “Do you think you could show me around a little more? Wilbur gave me a tour, but I’d like to know if he left anything out. I’m sure he showed me everything he thought was important, but that might not be everything.” She shrugs, an exasperated, what-can-you-do sort of gesture, because while she’s sure that Wilbur did, indeed show her everything that he thought was important, Wilbur can be prone to tunnel vision when he has a grand plan in mind.

And even if he truly did show her everything, there’s no harm in seeing it again.

Fundy perks up, ears standing up straight. “Yeah, that sounds like Wil,” he says. “I could do that! I’ve been around from the start, so I know all the best places.” He stands, tail moving back and forth rapidly, and that, she is willing to bet, is excitement. She falls into step with him as he starts off, and that seems to be all the invitation he needs to talk, about everything and anything, and there’s just as much about the history of what he’s showing her as there are personal anecdotes, everything from what he had for breakfast this morning to plans for a prank he wants to play on Tommy. It’s endearing, and she finds herself very engaged in the way his words tumble out.

“What do you like to do, where you’re from?” he asks her at one point.

“I like to bake a lot,” she answers. “Maybe I’ll start a bakery here.”

“That would be awesome,” he says. “We don’t have any bakeries. Would you need any help with getting it started?”

And she smiles. “I think I would like that,” she tells him.

It sounds very nice. A nice little bakery, food and sweets for everyone, in a country that she can tell has already become near and dear to her heart somewhere between Wilbur meeting her at the doors and showing her around and now this, his son, showing off his home with obvious joy and pride, just as much enthusiasm as Wilbur showed her.

She thinks she’s going to like it here very much. She thinks she already does.

#mcyt #dsmp #dream smp #dsmp fic #nihachu #niki nihachu #wilbur soot #tommyinnit #fundy #/rp #cat writes fic #long post #time travel au #no additional content warnings this time? that's a first #for once the angst isn't too overt #so enjoy that while it lasts lmao

[you-didnt-see-that-cuming]

Soft Touches | Draco Malfoy x Reader Part One

Summary: When Y/N had first met Harry and Ron on the train, she would have never thought that that interaction would have led to years of adventures and near-death experiences. Throughout their time at Hogwarts, several things had become clear. First, there will be at least one thing that tries to kill you a year. Second, Draco Malfoy was Harry’s archenemy. Third, no matter how hard she tried, Y/N still had just as big a crush on the blond as the first day they met. Harry and Ron would never let her live that one down while Hermione was at least a little understanding. Y/N knew that some of the things that Draco had done were horrible, and she would probably never forgive him for the things he had said to Hermione. And yet, she still liked him.

Warnings: No warnings yet!

Words: 1779

AO3 Link

Masterlist

A/N: Lmao I’m back and I’ve been on draco tiktok

As expected, being a fifth year student was far more stressful than anyone could have imagined. Not only did they have the O.W.L.s to study for, but ever since Umbridge had been brought on as Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, you had to practically teach yourself if you wanted a proper defense theory. At this rate, a muggle would probably know more about defense against dark magic. Either you practiced on the weekends, which almost no one aside from Hermione did, or during free periods.

It was only a few weeks from Halloween and autumn was in full swing. The grounds were painted with trees that held an array of yellow, orange, and gold leaves and there was a strong smell of bonfire, hot cider, and butterscotch that wafted across the hills during the day. On late afternoons, when the air was crisp and the sky slightly darker than what it had been during the first month of term, the courtyards and hills near the Black Lake were the perfect places for students to relax.

Y/N was sitting on the sill of one of the arches that opened into the courtyard, writing in a leatherbound journal with her green quill when one of her textbooks slipped out of the opening of her bag and smacked onto the stone floor below. She had barely registered the sound when someone had reached down and picked it up, extending their hand to her. Y/N’s eyes followed the line up the owner of the hand’s toned arm until she had reached their face. 

Instead of Draco’s usual sneer, there was no wrinkle between his brow, and his features were soft. Her hand slowly extended to meet his, and their fingers brushed against one another as she grasped the book. His startling blue eyes were veiled with an unreadable expression.

She was still too shocked to say anything, but the corner of her lips turned up slightly in a silent thank you. Draco stared for a few more seconds before his hand fell back down to his side and he turned, striding down the empty corridor. Y/N stared at his retreating figure. He wasn’t wearing his robes, despite the crisp chill that hung in the air, and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, displaying his forearms and the distinct veins that ran across his skin. 

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

It was nearly nightfall when Hermione had found her, still staring at the end of the corridor, deep in thought. 

“Where have you been? It’s time for dinner, Harry and Ron have already started without us.” Hermione questioned softly. Y/N turned her head, looking a little dazed.

“I’ll tell you later tonight, in the dormitories.” Hermione tilted her head and smiled a little.

“Knowing you, you’ve probably been out here for hours. Come on, before Ron eats all the best parts.” She stretched her hand out and pulled Y/N from her seat. Together, they walked arm in arm to the Great Hall, taking in the setting sun through the tall window panes and the lingering chill that had swept over Hogwarts over the past few days. 

It was getting colder, and the Winter recess was creeping closer day by day. As the two girls walked to the Great Hall, all they could smell as they walked through the open-air corridors was birch smoke coming from Hagrid’s hut and cold air. Y/N breathed deeply and sighed contentedly. She was convinced that there was absolutely nothing better than autumn at Hogwarts, and not even Professor Umbridge could spoil that. 

The second they opened the door to the Great Hall, it was like being hit by a wall of warmth, light, and the wonderful smells of the banquet. Y/N finally snapped out of the haze she had been in all afternoon once she realized how hungry she truly was. Hurriedly, the two of them sat down on the bench across from Ron and Harry, both of whom were animatedly discussing the upcoming quidditch game against Slytherin. They were discussing different strategies to use, especially since the Slytherin team was notorious for cheating. 

Y/N had joined the Gryffindor team as a Chaser only a year after Harry had and had experienced her fair share of Slytherin fouls to last a lifetime. Y/N caught sight of some serving platters and began serving herself along with Hermione. 

“So what were you doing all day? I haven’t seen you since breakfast this morning.” Y/N asked as she filled the corner of her plate with mashed potatoes. 

“Isn’t the answer obvious? She was in the library of course, where else would she be?” Ron interjected as he stole a roll of bread off of Hermione’s plate. Evidently he and Harry were done talking about quidditch, Ron had piled loads of food on his plate and Harry was stuffing chicken into his mouth. The two started to bicker until Ron shoved the entire roll into his mouth. 

Y/N was watching amused as Ron tried to speak around the bread roll when a flash of blond hair caught her eye. Just over Ron’s shoulder, Draco was just beginning to sit down next to Pansy Parkinson who was absorbed in a conversation with Blaise Zabini who sat across from her. Draco and Y/N’s eyes met briefly before both of them shifted their gazes. Hermione paused for a moment, looking at Y/N and then to Draco before a subtle look of realization dawned across her face. Suddenly, she switched the conversation to their History of Magic paper that was due by the end of the week.

“What have you two chosen for your topics?” Hermione questioned, making Harry and Ron freeze. They obviously hadn’t chosen a topic yet, let alone begun writing. 

“Erm, well… Here’s the thing Hermione-” Ron had begun stammering when Hermione cut him off.

“What is wrong with you? Professor Binns assigned this paper over two weeks ago!”

“I haven’t had time, I’ve had quidditch practice nearly every day and Snape hasn’t exactly eased up on Potions assignments, has he?” Harry defended himself, poking at a carrot on his plate and avoiding Hermione’s gaze. 

“Harry, I’ve been at the exact same quidditch practices as you and I’m almost finished with my paper. I’m writing about Grindelwald’s rise to power. You need to find a topic and fast!” Y/N said pointedly. Ron sat up at the mention of Y/N’s topic. “And no, you cannot use that topic, pick something else!” Ron deflated once again. 

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

They eventually finished their dinners, filed out of the Great Hall, and began heading towards Gryffindor Tower. Once they had finally entered through the portrait hole, Hermione grabbed Y/N by the crook of her elbow and pulled her up to their shared dormitories. Once she had shut the door behind them, she whirled around to face Y/N and pointed to her bed.

“Sit. We need to talk.” Hermione walked over and sat across from her. “What was that look that you gave Draco at dinner?”

Y/N looked down at her hands, an embarrassed flush across her cheeks. She was fiddling with the hem of her skirt and refused to look Hermione in the eye.

“Well, earlier today I was by myself writing in the courtyard, and I guess I must have knocked over one of my books because the next thing I know, Draco was just standing there, handing it to me. It felt like I was in a dream, he didn’t say anything, but he looked… different. I don’t really know how to describe it. He looked… soft, almost?” Y/N groaned and threw herself backwards onto the pillows, her legs hanging off the side of the bed. Hermione shifted so that she was lying next to Y/N and facing her.

“Okay,” she said carefully, “what does that mean exactly?”

Y/N paused for a moment in thought. What did it mean? Y/N had never thought about Draco in that way before, and the spark she felt when their fingers brushed together couldn’t have just been her imagination.

“I… don’t know. I don’t really know how to explain it. Whenever I start thinking about it, I feel this squeezing in my chest, like I can’t breathe properly.” Y/N closed her eyes and pictured Draco’s face once again. Hermione also seemed to be lost in thought, but those thoughts were most likely not about how handsome Draco looked with his hair pushed back and his sleeves rolled up. Hermione stretched her hand out and grasped Y/N’s hand.

“Well, I suppose it could be worse. It could have been Goyle handing your book back to you.” The two girls looked at each other before bursting into laughter. Goyle wouldn’t touch a book, let alone read one. In fact, it was unclear of whether or not he could actually read.

Once their laughter had died down and the two were sitting in comfortable silence, a thought dawned upon Y/N.

“You won’t tell Harry or Ron about this, will you? Knowing them, they’ll make a fuss about it and then never let me live it down.” 

Hermione smiled in response.

“‘A fuss’ is a bit of an understatement. ‘What do you mean you fancy Malfoy?! He’s a git!’” Hermione’s impersonation was spot on and the two girls laughed once again.

The two girls then spent the next few hours talking about their classes, Y/N and Harry’s upcoming quidditch match, and making plans for their weekend in Hogsmeade. Y/N wouldn’t have to worry about Draco until the quidditch match, and that wasn’t for another 3 days. So for 3 days, Y/N would avoid him and distract herself with studying for midterm exams and Quidditch practice.

#draco malfoy x reader #draco imagine #Draco Malfoy #draco malfoy x gryffindor #draco malfoy x female #Harry Potter #harry potter x reader #harry potter x friend!reader #Ron Weasley #ron weasley x reader #ron weasley x friend!reader #Hermione Granger #hermione granger x reader #hermione granger x friend!reader #fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x friend!reader #george weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley x friend!reader

[reawritesthings]

Rocky | JJ Maybank

Gif by @rudypankows

Summary: New to the Pogues, you weren’t familiar with JJ’s fighting habits, when he stumbles into the chateau black and blue, feelings are thrown into the after match. 

Words: 1.8K

Warning: none i guess?? aftermatch of a fight??

When your mother announced that you were moving to a smaller town, you weren't expecting this. Kildale, North Carolina was your new resident for the next four years. You weren’t exactly ecstatic but you were curious to see what a simple life can bring you.

After weaving through the labyrinth of roads, the paths eventually coverage and revealed your new home. Broken trees, tangled bushes and chipped paint was now your safe place. 

“You’ll love it here. I promise you.” Her mother grinned. 

“Yep, paradise on Earth.” You mocked but your mother's smile only grew. “That’s the spirit. You’ll make friends in no time.” She promised, leaving you to take in the salty breeze that tangled through your hair.

Months went by and you were happy, secured with your friends. They were a little dysfunctional but you considered them family. You met Kiara first, one of the best days and memorable days. The Wreck was a safe place where free meals would come your way, if you promised to work there.

Kiara then introduced you to the boys, or you’ll like to call them: Draco, Harry and Ron. They reminded you of fictional characters that were too good to be true.

John B instantly grew a liking towards you. You weren’t predictable as he thought any new girl would be. Pope loved your view on literature, whilst JJ admired your recklessness when it came to messing with the infamous Kooks.

It was an ordinary Friday night which was known as party night, but somehow the Pogues weren’t feeling the need to mope over Tourons. JJ was out, probably finding new ways to get into trouble since he already committed every crime. So, you were quarantined with the rest but your mind was too occupied with JJ's disappearance to focus on the show.

“Has anyone heard, seen or even, spoke to JJ tonight?” You randomly asked which they all immediately shook their heads. If JJ wanted to be found, he would call but something inside your stomach made you feel he was in trouble.

“I think we should look for him. It’s pretty late and he usually arrives around 10pm. It’s 10:30.”

Yourself and JJ had a bond that no one could describe, unless they witnessed the two of you in action. The both of you confined each other when things got rough, he admired the way you never judged him nor lectured him about his choice in actions. Most people would refer to you as Bonnie and Clyde - a pair of outlaws fighting crime with nothing but love. 

He loved the simplest things about you, the little nose scrunches when you patch up his cuts. He loves hearing your angelic voice reciting sonnets to him; Sonnet 116 was your favourite. Once he had an understanding of what Shakesphere was saying, he got the number tattooed. 

“I’m sure he’s just got lost on the way home. He’s clumsy like that.” Kiara reassured you but your gut was telling you otherwise.

Pope could sense your stress as you began to grip onto JJ’s jumper, his response was placing his arm around you giving your shoulder a tight squeeze.

“He’ll be okay. He’s JJ, he has survival skills of an ant.” Pope whispered letting your head fall into his shoulder as you forced yourself to watch an episode.

It was now 12am, and everyone was out like a light. You, however, were awake standing by the porch waiting for him to come home. 

“Where are you, JJ?” You whispered under your breath looking into the darkness. As the breeze was hitting your exposed skin, you sheleted inside wrapping his scent over your body letting some tears escape your eyes.

JJ makes his entrance late. You hear the door swing open more loudly than usual, causing your eyes to open. You don’t look at him, nor acknowledge him. He’s late and he knew you would be made when he doesn’t show up. He tried to say your name, his bruised lip failing at the first syllable, but he doesn’t need to finish, you were already on your feet to stop him from falling. His left eye is swollen, meaning he wouldn’t be able to see for a while. His face still bears congealed blood and his clothes were destroyed. 

“JJ, you seriously need to stop getting into fights… Everytime you walk through the door, a new shot of purple ruins your perfect tanned skin.” You sniffled as you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, but with a reassuring touch you began to nurse him.

Each bud stained more than the last, you could sense his embarrassment, shame and guilt as he let tears shelter through his cuts.

“I’ve got you, you are safe now.” you whispered as you finished cleaning him up. Although his face was now seen as a punching bag, you gracefully planted a small kiss to his forehead letting him know he was forgiven.

Since the bedrooms were occupied, the two of you had no choice to share the pull out. Helping JJ onto the bed, he immediately buried his head into your chest letting you shelter him from the monsters he ran from.

“I’ve got you..” You whispered once more before your eyes began to fall into a deep slumber as your mind was finally at rest.

The morning after couldn’t come any sooner, it felt like a couple of minutes since you closed your eyes. JJ was still out, his body was curled into yours as his light snores woke you along with the roaster John B decided to keep.

“What a beaut- what happened?” John B croaked, but immediately gave you an apologetic look as you placed your finger to your mouth. 

“He got into a fight, he couldn’t talk when he came in last night.” You whispered hoping JJ wouldn’t wake up, as he needed all the sleep he could get.

“Is there anything I can do?” John B always felt hopeless when he would find the two of you asleep on a pull out. It was either you having nightmares or JJ getting beaten up.

“Maybe some water, just in case he needs to feel strong again” You mumbled, looking down at how peaceful he was. 

You always loved the way his curly blonde locks invaded his face as he slept. It was usually him, spooning you but occasionally he liked it when you took charge. He liked being taken care of, since no one else bothered too.

“Jesus, He really out did his last fight.” Pope groggily spoke, starching his hair as he came out of the spare bedroom along with Kie who was brushed and ready to start the day.

“Should Pope and I get breakfast from the Wreck? I feel like we all needed a Carrera breakfast.” Kiara jokes to lighten the mood a little.

“Please.” You chuckled letting your finger brush through JJ’s messy hair. 

“Okay, let us know if anything happens.” Pope added on, letting Kiara pull his frame out of the picture and towards the car.

You looked over at John B for guidance in what to do, you were fairly new and even the bond you and JJ shared, you still felt hopeless.

“Someone needs to not let him get into all these fights. One day, he might not even make it back. I think you need to talk to him.” John B confined his feelings with you, but you couldn’t be the one to lecture him. 

“You’ve known him longer. He’s your best friend.” You argued back, giving John B some serious thinking. 

“You’re his girlfriend, you know him more than I do.” John B without realising labelled you, but it wasn’t true. You and JJ were friends, best friends. 

“I’m not his girlfriend, and I told you to shut up about that.” You confessed your feelings but you never would admit your desire to be with the blonde rebel. 

“Well, I know he likes you and if he wasn’t asleep, I’ll get those bruises myself. “ John B wasn’t good at keeping secrets, nor was Pope, which only left Kiara to be the trusted one in the group. 

As JJ arms were secured around you, the bladder inside you was nearly at breaking point. You slowly began to remove his tendered arms away from your waist but a whine escaped JJ’s lip.

“D-Don’t leave.” He choked out, opening an eye to see your face.

“I need to pee… I’ll be back, I promise.” JJ nodded, letting go of you as his arms flopped onto the mattress but his smile grew as your scent stayed with him.

“Watch him.” You nudged John B who was busy scrolling through Sarah Cameron’s Instagram.

“Aye, Aye Captain,” John B closed his phone, walking over to the bed to check on his best friend.

“Dude, what the fuck happened?” He immediately asked, he knew he wasn’t okay so he didn’t bother with that question.

JJ was trying to form words, “I-I ran into Topper and he mentioned Y/N, talking about her as if she was some piece of meat. I couldn’t let him talk about my girl like that.” JJ grumbled, looking up as John B gave him a huge grin.

“I knew you liked her.” JJ shook his head, “I love her, man.” JJ confessed not noticing you were already standing under the door frame, listening to every word.

“I love you, too.” You swooned making your way over to him, planting a small kiss to his cheek.

“I’m so sorry for missing movie night and getting into another fight. I’ll promise I won’t get into more fights.” But you only chuckled as no matter how much you tried, you could never get that boy to stop fighting especially for the one he loves.

“Mhm, get some rest. Food is on the way.” You grinned, letting John B cringe over the way you planted soft kisses to his cuts.

“You two are adorably cringy .” JJ rolled his eyes, “jealousy isn’t a good look, bro.” John B scoffed at the remark looking at you to take his side.

“I agree with rocky. Not going to get anywhere with scrolling through her Instagram.” You sassed, heading JJ chuckle but winced immediately clutching into his stomach. 

“Serves yo- Food is here.” John B knew finishing that sentence wouldn’t be ideal so he lunged towards Pope, thanking him for his impeccable timing. 

As you let your friend set up the table, you noticed JJ pulling his weight up to face you.

“I mean it, I love you Y/N.” JJ expressed his feelings again, which surprised you as he wasn’t the one to open up about certain things.

“I love you, JJ.” You reached in to kiss his bruised lip, ignoring all the aww’s coming from your friends.

masterlist  AND TAGLIST

#outer banks #outer banks cast #obx cast #outer banks imagines #outer banks masterlist #jj maybank #outer banks imagine #rudy pankow #jj x y/n #jj maybank fic #jj maybank fluff #jj mayback x reader #obx jj maybank #outer banks jj #obx imagines #obx jj #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank angst #jj x reader #jj x you #jj maybank smut

[justafairytailofinnocence]

Hi can I get a Harry Potter, twilight , lotr and the hobbit matchup

Appearance: blonde wavy hair that reaches down to my hip, 168cm tall Hourglass body shape, fair skin tone, my eye color is hard to describe. Most thinks it’s green with tiny spots of brown close to the pupils but some thinks it’s just grey or blue. Heart shaped face. My style is semi formal or formal. When I dress up i usually go for dress pants( always black) with a classy top or just a basic top with black blazer. Normal wear:lots of black. Wear suit pants, a fitting top with a black coat on top.

Personality: to everyone who don’t know me I am usually seen as introverted and look slightly sad or angry. I am intelligent and have a different perspective on things compared to my own and have a very philosophical mind, always occupied in my thought. Likes my privacy and not the most talkative person and unless someone is speaking to me or wants to spend time with me then I can have a convo but I am more of a listener and have social anxiety. but when I have to( family gatherings and such) I can put on a show and seem more nice, outgoing, confident and easy to speak with, have expert control over my body language and facial expressions so I can look like a harmless being one second and the next look like I want you dead in the blink of an eye,m even if my feelings don’t as up to my facial expressions, love my friends, hate lies and are honest with my friends with exception for white lies. I can be revengeful when I want to, people have a tendency for quickly trusting me and opening up to me about secrets, either if they are not my friends I use it as leverage to take revenge. Prefer emotionally tormenting my enemies and enjoying seeing them crumble if they have hurt me big time emotionally( very rare and I never get caught or believed to be guilty). I have a nack for knowing when someone lies and for finding the truth. Are the friend therapist. I care about the people who are close to me and are very friendly overall and not to quick to judge people. I usually adapt how I act around people to the person I am speaking with and only to the closest ones(friends and family) I am truly comfortable and take of my “mask” and be more extroverted and talkative with them. I have a hard time expressing what I feel to people and are not the most touchy person and don’t always go for hugs and kisses unless I have known them for a very long time and are comfortable with it. Had a very critical mom that was depressed and yelled at me and berated me until I got a panic attack quite often and this did not stop until my 16th birthday when I moved out to go to a school in another town and moved to the campus and away from home. My father was caring and tried sheering me up but he was not the most sympathetic or empathetic man in the world but he tries to comfort me. I am stubborn when I want to be, i am a witty person with a sharp tonunge do not care that much about others opinions of me unless its my friends opinion. but care about my education a lot. I can be blind when It comes to love and have a hard time thinking anyone would fancy me or think of me as anything more than a friend. Some as me as mysterious, flirty (sometimes) and intimidating

Hobbies:

Intrests: care a lot about the environment and it’s animals and study Etology and animal protection program to be animal safety inspector. Love reading, dreaming, sleeping, looking up facts about historical people or events that transpired before and love reading about different eras. Love reading mythology and are something of a night owl. Love the color black, dark academia aesthetic. Love shopping new clothes and watch movies or tv-shows.

Overall: I’m a slytherin. Personality type “the inventor” or the analysts: zodiac Pisces, rising sign: Scorpio and Gemini🌑. Shy and introverted first when you meet me but are a bad bitch ones you get to know me. I am the person who seem calm but can get very angry I am that person that could murder someone and still never be a suspect or get anyone to believe or was the one.

Hello dear 💖, for harry potter I ship you with:

Sirius black 🐾

- he seems to have a thing for wemon like you and perhaps you are the one he's looking for.

- the man hasn't had many true romances so to him this was the first.

- Sirius would take you on dates flying up and around the castle.

- you would be the kind of girl that would be seen with a good looking guy.

- your apart of the order.

- you get married in the order and have a half blood child with your hair and his eyes.

For twilight I ship you with:

Caius volturi 🌙

- he would be rather protective of you sometimes even telling men to back off.

- you seem to be his main catch so that's something at least.

- he would always be clingy to you and never compare you to anyone else.

- you would get annoyed if he becomes ultra ranty and he would need to back down a bit.

- you get to be a vampire queen.

- you get along well with Jane and Renata.

- you get married at the castle and unfortunately no kids. If you did they would have his hair and his eyes.

For lotr and the hobbit I ship you with:

Thranduil 🤴

- he would definitely relate to you, he would spend all day in his castle talking about the habits of his kingdom.

- you would be the ultimate elf queen.

- you would have a way at controlling quite the lot of them of your people.

- legalos would be thingy but then get over it.

- he would be entitled to you and you would marry in the castle. Your child is an elf with his hair and eyes.

Anyways that's all I have for now:

Ta Ta 💫

#harry potter matchup #harry potter matchups open #twilight matchup #twilight matchups open #lotr matchup #lotr matchups open #the hobbit matchup #the hobbit matchups open

[hes-a-rainbow]

Simply Meant To Be (Part Two)

Author’s note: I just wanted to say a quick thank you for everyone who took the time to read part one and give me feedback! I’m glad so many of you seem to like the story so far. Enjoy!

P.S. I also changed the names of some of Harry’s close friends/co-workers but it’s really not hard to figure out who I'm talking about. I just feel funny writing about people who are not in the limelight.

Part One

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: stress, some description of panic/anxiety attack.

~

“Rue? Rue?!”

“Give her some space!”

“Should I call an ambulance?”

Different voices started to merge together as Rue finally came back to consciousness. She opened her eyes to see Caroline’s bright blue ones staring back at her, “Hey sweetie, think we lost you there for a second.” 

“I--,” Rue tried her best to speak but her throat felt bone dry and her head was pounding. She cleared her throat multiple times but her eyes began to water. “Grab her something to drink!” Caroline shouted over Rue’s shoulder. A soft ‘okay’ from Rory followed by the clattering of heavy boots running into the back room of the store met Rue’s ears. Caroline helped her stand up and she turned to look over Caroline’s shoulders and was met with the unfamiliar faces of two strangers and him. Her soulmate. 

She raised her left hand again to make sure the mark was still there. It was still red and stung like a new tattoo.

H

“Hey, look at me.” Caroline's’ voice snapped Rue out of her reverie. “I know this is a shock, but this is the start of the rest of your life. And I’m so happy for you.” Rue could see water forming in her friends’ eye as she comprehended her words. “Okay,” Rue squeaked out.

“Rue.” A voice from behind Caroline spoke and Rue felt a flash of electricity spread through her whole body. He didn’t say her name as a question, or even a statement, but more so as if he was trying to feel the way it felt on his lips. Rue’s brown eyes met with his radiant green ones and she felt a rush of familiarity rush over her. 

“H…” She whispered. 

“It’s--,” His voice cracked and he cleared his throat as he continued, “It’s Harry.” He took a few steps closer to her, close enough for her to study his face as he studied hers. She found him extremely handsome with his tall, muscular stature and sharp cheekbones. But he also looked so familiar. Like someone she might’ve met in passing. Had they met before? Surely not, because if they had ever come this close before, they would have been marked. 

The bleached blonde man besides Harry cleared his throat and elbowed his friend in the side, nodding his head towards Rue. Realization came over Harry and he shook his head a bit to clear it, causing the brown curls on his head to flop about, “Right, sorry,” He held his right hand out towards Rue, “It’s so nice to finally meet you...Rue.” The slight change in the tilt of Harry’s voice sparked Rue with realization, “You’re British?” Harry smirked a bit at her reaction, causing a dimple to form on his cheek, “Uh, yeah.” 

She reached out for his hand robotically. When their hands finally clasped together, she felt her heart skip a beat, just like the books had said. Maybe not skip a beat per say but more the feeling of getting sucker punched right in the chest. Both Harry and Rue released gasps of air at the same time. The two soulmates stared at each other, in the middle of the music store in between the guitars that aligned the wall behind Rue and the rows of sheet music that stood behind Harry, hands still moving slightly as if to mimic shaking.

God knows how long they both stood there with dumbstruck smiles on their faces. She thought about this moment for years, she had asked Caroline nearly a thousand times to repeat the story of how she met Talia. Rue imagined a million times over exactly how she would feel in this moment. She expected pure joy, tears of happiness, a kiss from the person who was literally made specifically for her. But in reality she only felt lost, confused, and even a bit scared. What if the person she made up in her head was nothing like this man, this Harry? What if he was rude to her or didn’t think she was attractive or--

Stop being ridiculous, Her conscious spat back, He will love everything about you, just as you will with him. You are two halves to one soul. You are simply meant to be.

But the lingering fear still twisted in her stomach and she was happy she hadn’t eaten since lunch because she was sure if she ate dinner beforehand it would have just been making its reappearance. 

The sharp piercing sound of a phone ringing broke the silence that seemed to be uncomfortable to everyone but the two. Rue’s hand retracted from Harry’s and slid back into the warmth of her winter coat as she remembered exactly where she was and saw the giddy smile adorning Caroline’s face. “It’s John,” the long dark haired lanky man who stood next to Harry announced. Rue saw Harry’s expression turn to fear, then back to neutral before he turned to his friend, “I’ll talk to him later.” He spoke casually but his tone held a deeper meaning. The other man he was with silenced his phone and slipped it back in his pocket. Harry turned to look back at Rue, another smile forming on his lips. 

Caroline cleared her throat besides Rue causing the two soulmates to jump a bit at the interruption, “And I’m Caroline!” She held her hand out to Harry, who took it politely and smiled, “Pleasure to meet you, Caroline. This is Tim,” Harry pointed over his left shoulder at the older blonde man beside him who gave a small wave to the two girls, “And Matt.” Harry threw his thumb over his other shoulder to reference the other brunette man with him. A small “Hi” slipped out of Matt whose eyes continued to dart between Harry and Rue almost as if he was waiting for something. Rue’s eyes narrowed at Matt before turning back to Harry, who was already looking at her. She felt a warmth spread throughout her body and a sense of comfort she had never experienced before.

“I didn’t have any water but I do have some Tito’s left over from the Christmas party last year!” Rory ran back into the room with a half empty glass bottle of vodka raised over his head. His eyes darted towards everyone in the store as he tried to read the room, “Everyone’s good now?” 

“Everyone’s good now.” Caroline replied as she gave him a look as if to say, now be cool. He lowered the vodka bottle and approached the small group standing in the middle of his store. He wrapped his arm around Rue’s shoulder and Rue caught Harry’s expression sour for just a second. “Can’t believe our little kangaroo has finally been matched!” Rory pulled her in for a half assed side hug, “And to Harry Styles’ nonetheless!” Rue’s head snapped to look at Rory, then Caroline, and finally settled on Harry whose whole body seemed to stiffen as he heard his full name.

Rue felt stupid, incredibly dumb even for not placing the face to the name right away. She knew who Harry Styles was, even had a few songs of his on her phone, but never in a million years had she thought she would actually meet him, let alone be his soulmate.

“The singer?” Rue asked Harry but it was Rory who answered, “Yeah! You really didn’t realize?” 

Her Harry just happened to be one of the most famous and sought after people in the entire world. She felt her body becoming warm again, the hairs on the back of her neck rising. She remembered a time back in high school when a group of her friends chatted about what they imagined their soulmates’ would be like. One of her friends had basically described Nick Jonas and was met with thundering laughter. “What? He has to be matched with someone! It definitely wouldn’t be the first time a celebrity matched with someone normal!” The group looked at her as if she had grown two heads, “And isn’t it like everybody’s dream to be matched with a celebrity?” Some of the girls shook their heads no while others agreed but Rue remembered how she spoke up, “I would hate to be matched with someone famous.” Her friends’ rolled their eyes but she only continued, “I’m serious! All I'll ever be known for is belonging to them. No one will ever see me as me again, they will only see me as the girl who is so and so’s soulmate. I couldn’t imagine living in someone’s shadow my entire life.”

“So you’re telling me if you matched up with Brad Pitt, you wouldn’t be happy?”

“That’s not what I’m saying. Of course I would be ecstatic to even be matched, I just always imagined it would be with someone...normal.”

Rue hadn’t thought about that conversation for years now, didn’t even speak with those girls anymore (but knew for a fact her friend was not actually Nick Jonas’ soulmate when he was publicly matched a few years later to another actress) but now it had come back to haunt her. She would never be just Rue again, the girl who had no idea what she was doing in life, who worked as a receptionist at a tiny law firm in lower Manhattan, who wanted to travel the world but in reality had never been on a plane flight longer than six hours, she would only ever be known as Harry Styles’ soulmate.

Her stomach started to flip again and this time it wasn’t out of joy and excitement.

Rue spoke to Harry without making direct eye contact, “I--I’m sorry I didn’t realize--”

“It’s okay,” He responded immediately sensing the nervousness in her tone. He could see her confidence fading away right before his eyes.

“I thought you looked familiar but I never placed--”

“It’s fine. Really.” He gave her what he thought was a comforting smile but she immediately looked down at her old leather boots. She could feel the burning sensation of tears start in the back of her eyes. Please don’t do this, please don’t cry in front of him, she begged herself silently in her head but it only made the waterworks come faster. 

How could this be? She was nothing like him. He probably dined with rockstars while she sat cross legged on her old couch she found on the side of the road while eating day old pasta. She had seen enough about him to know that he went through relationships left and right. Every time he was seen with someone new, the speculation of ‘were they the one?’ running wild in the tabloids. It was the main reason celebrities and people in the spotlight wore rings on their left ring fingers, to hide from the media and news outlets alike if they had met their soulmate or not. This had to have been a mistake, a twist of fade that landed completely off the mark. Surely there had been people matched by accident before, right? 

Nobody moved as Rue struggled with her inner turmoil. 

“Hey, are you--” Harry reached out to touch her arm but she jumped back and out of his reach and away from Rory’s hold. She needed to be alone right now and actually figure out exactly what this meant for her. She started to wrap her scarf back around her neck tightly. Still not meeting anyone’s eyes, she spoke towards the dirty carpet that lined the store, “It was nice meeting you,” She could see Harry move closer to her, as well as Caroline, but she continued to back away and towards the door.

“Rue…” Caroline called for her friend as she saw the slight quiver in her lip that was the tell tale sign her tears were about to fall.

“I’m sorry but I just--I have to go.” Rue turned fast and leaned all her weight on the door. Her face was met with a harsh cold wind that only made her eyes water even more. She moved faster as she heard the door ringing again behind her, indicating that someone had walked out after her. Please don’t let it be him, please don’t let it be him. 

She heard her name being called out by multiple voices, all of which she now knew and could identify, but she only picked up into a slight jog and prayed that the sidewalk wasn’t icy.

“Wait! Please!” She was coming up the end of the street and through her blurry vision she could see the pixelated hand appearing and disappearing ahead of her, indicating only five seconds left until the street light turned green. She was never one to be athletic but she swore she ran as fast as Usain Bolt as she sprinted across the crosswalk. She heard a car honk behind her and a heavy Brooklyn accent scream out, “Fuck off, pretty boy!” but it didn’t slow her down. 

She was only one block away from her apartment now. Her lungs burned as she breathed in the cold air. She had made this walk hundreds of times before and knew how to get back home with her eyes closed, which came in handy because the mixture of her tears and the harsh winter winds caused her to only see blurs and blobs where people stood. Her ears started to ring as she neared her block, she could see the lobby door from here. 

She peaked over her shoulder and didn’t see anyone running behind her but didn’t stall her speed until she rushed into the lobby. The night security guard, Jerry, gave her a weird look as she hauled up the stairs five flights to her apartment. She only stopped for a split second to open her purse and grab her keys, hands shaking as she slipped it into the lock and opened the door. She opened it just enough for her to slide in and quickly slammed it shut, locking and bolting the door because she knew Caroline would show up in a matter of minutes. 

She laid her hands on her knees as she bent over to try to catch her breath. She just needed to be alone and try to gather her thoughts before speaking with Harry again. She just needed a few more minutes of being Rue before she turned into only his.

~

Thank you for reading! Again, feedback is greatly appreciated. Don’t forget to like and share!

#harry styles one shot #harry styles #harry styles au #harry styles oneshot #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles blurb #harry styles drabble #love on tour #hslot #tpwk #soulmates au #soulmate!harrystyles #soulmate!harry au #simply meant to be

[sapphicwhxre]

be mine

♡ pairing: luna lovegood x reader

♡ summary: after finding out that luna’s never had a valentine, you give her the perfect valentine's day

♡ requested: yes | no

♡ warnings: none

february 14th is a materialistic pile of rubbish. yet here you were, buying into the gimmicks and working up the courage to ask luna lovegood to be your valentine. you took a deep breath and stood up before immediately plopping back down in your seat and groaning.

“i can’t do it!”

“oh yes you can!” hermione rolled her eyes at you. “you’re celestial, y/n, and i’m sure luna thinks so too.”

“if i get rejected and humiliated, this is all your fault.” you huffed and stood once more.

“she isn’t like that and you know that. now go ask her!” she smirked and waved your nervous self off in her direction. the blonde sat on the grass, her hair sitting in waves over her book. the breeze blew her tresses over her shoulder and her white top complimented the color of her vibrant eyes.

“hi luna!”

you cringed internally at yourself but reminded she’d never judge you. luna knew what it was like to be different and you adored how she was so unapologetically herself.

“evening, y/n!" she chirped and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “you look like something’s on your mind.”

you are, you wanted to admit. but you refrained.

“just thought i’d say hello," you excused through pressed lips. “what are you reading?”

“it’s about valentine’s day,” luna explained with an excitement in her voice, one that always accompanied her eagerness to learn. “muggles celebrate today with their significant others. it’s lovely, don’t you think?”

“very,” you agreed with a giggle and nod. spotting hermione, she glared and gestured (not very subtly) at luna as if to scream at you to ask her out. “do you have a valentine?”

the girl looked up at you curiously, her smile fading a bit.

“no, i never have.” she admitted. this shocked you. it may be primarily a muggle thing but luna is an angelic being. how could no one have taken the opportunity to spoil her with gifts or tell her how lovely she is?

“how unfortunate, people are missing out!” you replied, pulling a bubbly laugh from her throat. “would you be mine tonight luna?”

a toothy grin spread across her face, brightening her features and she bit her lip softly. “that’d be wonderful, y/n.”

“perfect! i’ll see you tonight, ravenclaw common room.” you told her happily and with a burst of confidence, pressed a quick kiss to her cheek. pink blush rose to her cheeks and you took pleasure in the sight before prancing off back to hermione, who was now joined by ron and harry.

“how’d it go?” hermione questioned excitedly.

“well... i’ve got myself a date!” you squealed and hermione threw her arms around you before facing you again.

“i told you she’d say yes!”

“woah woah,” ron darted his eyes between the two of you with a smirk. “who’s the lucky girl, y/n?”

“please!” harry interrupted. "it’s got to be lovegood, who else does y/n have eyes for?"

the implication made heat rise to your cheeks and you scoffed.

“my feelings are not that obvious, harry! but yes, i’ve got luna as my valentine. she’s never had one and i plan to make her first valentine’s day a very special one.” you announced confidentally.

“how special?” ron remarked, earning a slap on the arm from hermione.

“oh, shut up. now if you’ll excuse me, i’ve got to go get ready for my date.”

hermione joined you in your dorm, helping you choose an outfit and fix your hair while the boys set up a spot for you and luna. the two of you decided on a floral red dress that stopped just above the knees, paired with a pair of thigh high white boots.

“gorgeous, if i don’t say so myself!” your friend smiled proudly as you spun around dramatically to show off. “i might just have to keep you for myself!” she joked.

“don’t tempt me mione,” you laughed and turned to the door. stopping hesitantly, you looked back at the girl. “do you think she’ll like me?”

“y/n, i know she will,” she gave you a genuine smile and squeezed your hand. “now go, you’ll be late!”

you made your way to the ravenclaw common room nervously and stopped in your very tracks when you laid eyes on luna. a strapless powder blue dress, flowing down to her calves sat above her strappy silver heels. her hair was in a long braid and she'd applied a soft pink lip gloss. breathtaking was the only word to describe her.

“you look stunning,” you breathed and she smiled, blushing furiously. “as do you, y/n. you’re beautiful.” you took her arm in yours.

“shall we?”

“we shall.”

the scene that awaited you only added to the magic of the night, the sun had set already. harry and ron had truly outdone themselves and it warmed your heart that they’d done this for you and luna. a wooden table, covered in a drape of white tablecloth in the middle of the courtyard and white tulips were sprinkled all around. you’d mentioned last week to them how much luna loved them. it was dim, fairy lights illuminating the display.

“this is lovely!” luna giggled and rushed to sit down and you followed. laughing, eating, and elated conversations ensued and you stayed out until the crack of dawn. luna stood up and threw herself onto the grass happily.

“luna, you’ll dirty your dress,” you teased and laid down to join her.

“i suppose it’s worth it. look at the sunrise, y/n.” the colors of the sky, orange and pink, brought a glow to luna you could fall in love with. “why did you ask me to be yours tonight?” the question caught you off guard but you responded.

“i really like you luna,” you were surprised by the bluntess coming from your mouth. “i like how unique and kind you are. your voice is absolute heaven to my ears. i love the way you are, the way you shine so brightly. not to mention, you’re beautiful.”

her eyes were welling up with tears ─ the good kind. luna’s fingertips brushed your cheek, soft as a butterfly wing, and she brought her pink lips to yours delicately. you kissed her sweetly and pulled away with a dopey smile on your face.

“i really like you too y/n.” she whispered with her eyes still closed. “be mine past tonight?” she requested.

“always luna. always.”

#harry potter #luna lovegood #luna lovegood x reader #luna lovegood imagine #luna lovegood fluff #luna lovegood fic #harry potter series #harry potter x reader #hogwarts x reader #wlw #sapphic

[isamijoo]

Can You See Me

Written for @amortentiaboys (again! lol). Betaed by @fw00shy! Also many thanks to @orange-peony & @vukovich.

Features Unspeakable!Draco in a Soulmate AU.

WC: ~2.6k.

Rating: Teen and Up

A/N: The fic takes place in another realm where they are 'souls' while their physical bodies remain in the 'real world'. Some lines are inspired by Doctor Who.

READ ON AO3

~~~

If Auror Harry Potter had to describe his relationship with Unspeakable Draco Malfoy, seven years after the war, he would use the phrase "in limbo": neither here nor there. Frustratingly stuck somewhere between nothing and everything. Friends? Yes, but not really. Boyfriends? Maybe, but not quite. Perplexing? Absolutely.

Hermione, an Unspeakable herself, had a theory that the problem lied in their inability to communicate effectively. Harry was notoriously bad with words while Draco became quiet and subdued after the trials and induction into the Department of Mysteries.

Except when Draco was drunk.

The first time Harry and Draco kissed, they had just solved their first case together. Harry dragged Draco to a pub, and after several rounds of drinks in a booth, the alcohol loosened Draco's tongue and reduced his inhibitions. Before they knew it, they were making out right in the booth, unhidden, out in the open for anyone to see.

One week later, Harry chanced upon Draco at the Auror Office when the blond came to submit a report. Harry caught his eye and shortly afterwards, found himself slammed against the wall in a broom cupboard by a charming Unspeakable, who was crafty with a Silencing Charm.

They fell into a pattern. They kissed, bit, and groped each other. Although inappropriate, Harry loved these private moments with Draco. He often glimpsed Draco smiling dreamily between their kisses, grey eyes gazing at him with an adoration that never failed to make Harry's heart beat faster.

They never brought each other home. They never went on dates. They never addressed what they did, but not due to any lack of effort from Harry. Whenever he tried to talk about it, Draco would stare at him in trepidation and despair, as though Harry was going to curse him or strike him with a sword. Then he would use whatever Unspeakable skills he had to escape and disappear.

Did Harry find Draco infuriating as hell? Yes, very much so.

Did he also love the git to death? Utterly and completely.

So when Hermione barged into the Auror Office and hurried to his desk as though chased by lightning, screaming "Malfoy is in trouble!", what would you expect Harry to do?

~~~

Harry landed on two feet in a shallow puddle of mud.

He quickly surveyed his surroundings. He was standing in a clearing in the middle of a vast field of yellow wheat. Earthy brown mountains lined the horizon, and a strong breeze chilled him down to his bones, despite his thick Auror uniform and robes. As he looked down to inspect his boots, he realised that his glasses had vanished, but his vision was perfectly clear.

Harry brought his hands to his face, just to make sure. A finger graced his forehead and — his breath hitched — touched the smooth skin over the spot where his lightning bolt scar should have been.

The scars at the back of his left hand were gone too.

He hastily patted his chest, stomach, arms, and thighs. Aside from his eyesight and scars, his physique was unchanged. He still wore the same uniform he had on at St Mungo’s before he blacked out.

As he got his bearing, he felt the air chill and the wind blow stronger. He heard footsteps approaching and immediately grabbed his wand by his hip.

About five metres from where Harry stood, a tall wall of wheat parted and out walked Draco Malfoy, decked in his elegant navy blue Unspeakable uniform. His skin was pale and there were dark circles below his eyes, but he appeared unharmed. His usually immaculate blonde hair was slightly tousled, thanks to the breeze.

“Potter?” Draco yelled, a hand shielding his squinted eyes from the harsh wind. His dark robes billowed out around his knees “What are you doing here?”

With a grunt, Harry tucked away his wand and trudged across the muddy soil until he reached more solid ground, taking note that Draco was also moving in his direction. “Saving your arse, obviously. What the fuck were you thinking? Sending your soul to another dimension?” Harry shrieked. “Where the hell are we, anyway?”

“A place where souls transit between life and death,” Draco replied, not having to shout now that they were within arm's length. “Some people call this place Bardo.”

Anger burned in the pit of Harry’s stomach, yearning to burst. Didn’t Draco have any idea how worried he made Harry?

But his desire to scold vanished when Draco asked, “Why did the Department of Mysteries send you, an Auror? Why not another Unspeakable?”

Harry breathed heavily. The wind was picking up and he figured they should get moving, but he couldn’t move, not when Draco was gazing at him curiously. “They couldn’t locate your soul. They needed me to find you.”

Pale eyebrows rose quizzically. “Why you?”

Harry gazed into his cool grey eyes. “You know why,” he muttered. “Apparently I’m your soulmate.”

Draco’s jaw went slack; no words came out as he stared unblinkingly at Harry’s face.

“Were you planning on telling me at some point?” Harry asked softly.

“Do you have a way to get us back?” Draco enquired instead.

Harry reached inside his shirt and pulled out a silver medallion that fit nicely in his palm. At the centre of the medallion rested a small piece of jade stone, which now glowed red. Hermione had told him to wait until the stone turned green before attempting any more dimension-hopping.

With a small squeak of excitement and relief, Draco grabbed the medallion with both hands. It was still connected to a chain around Harry’s neck, so Draco stood close to the Auror as he ran his fingers over the jade stone.

“A Dimension Transporter, perfected by Granger herself. This is powered by your magic,” Draco said almost reverently. “I can feel it.”

Unable to help himself, Harry took the other wizard’s hand and held it to his chest. “I'm glad you're alright. Don't scare me like this.”

“I’m not here by choice, Potter,” Draco clarified, rolling his eyes as he slowly pulled his hand out of Harry’s grasp. “I suppose now that you’re involved, I can explain how I got here, while we wait for the Transporter to recharge.”

Suddenly a strong gust of wind blasted around them. Draco grabbed Harry’s wrist and pulled him towards the direction he came from. Harry followed Draco into the wheat field, but as soon as he stepped between the tall stalks, his surroundings changed. Gone were the yellow scenery, replaced by a vast landscape of a snowy mountain valley.

Draco appeared unperturbed by the sudden change in climate. The wind was still strong here, though, so Harry obediently followed Draco as the latter trekked up a small hill.

At the top of the hill was a small hut, in which they took shelter from the harsh elements. Inside, Draco had arranged several flat stones to masquerade as a stool and a table. On the table sat an emerald green sphere the size of a Remembrall. A small key-shaped trinket suspended inside the misty orb. Numerous narrow cracks ran around the surface of the sphere.

Harry had seen the sphere before, minus the cracks. He was the one who found the sphere a few months ago during a raid. The sphere was unimportant to the case at hand, but Harry had a suspicious feeling about it, and after blasting it with every curse-detection spell he knew, he wanted to destroy it. But Robards stopped him and sent it to the Mysterious Artifacts Division, more colloquially known as MAD.

The idea of the sphere falling into Draco’s hands and potentially harming him made Harry angry again.

“Why do you have that?” Harry’s voice trembled with barely disguised fury as he kept his eyes on the orb.

With a sigh, Draco went to a corner of the hut and kicked a large rock the size of Quaffle to Harry’s feet. “Do you have a wand?”

Nodding, Harry transfigured the rock into a proper stool, complete with a cushion. He then did the same to Draco’s stone-stool. Draco muttered his gratitude as they both settled down around the table, the sphere glowing ominously.

“The people at MAD sent this to my department last month,” Draco explained. “My senior colleagues knew right away that this sphere was previously used by Dark Wizards in the seventh century to extract a person’s soul from their body, basically leaving behind an empty shell.”

Any talk about souls — extracting, separating, severing — always reminded Harry of Horcruxes. Even when Hermione was explaining to him the plan to save Draco by sending Harry’s soul after him, Harry had been uneasy. Their real bodies — both his and Draco’s — were lying in a ward in St Mungo’s, lifeless and dependent on magic to keep them alive. “Sounds like something you should stay away from.”

Draco’s eyes flickered over Harry’s face for a second before he dropped his gaze. “It’s my job to figure out how it works. I managed to dismantle it. See these cracks?” He pointed at the lines over the sphere, careful not to touch it. “I was able to decode the spell inside it, layer by layer, until I reached the key inside. When I touched it with my magic, I blacked out and woke up here.”

“And that thing followed you here?” Harry raised an unbelieving eyebrow, but it explained why nobody mentioned finding any cursed objects around Draco’s unconscious body.

“I suppose,” Draco replied, uncertain. “Maybe it’s pissed at me for taking it apart, and wants to make sure no one in the physical world can use it to rescue me.”

Harry leaped to his feet and pointed his wand at the sphere. “Reducto! Evanesco!”

The sphere exploded into a hundred pieces before vanishing into thin air.

“There," Harry said contently, dropping back onto the stool. "I should have done that as soon as I found it.”

“Good job, Potter,” Draco said sarcastically, grimacing. “Please remember next time you destroy my projects, that I’m the one who has to write the paperwork.”

“It could have killed you!” Harry protested.

Draco shrugged flippantly and rested his elbows on the now-empty table, purposely avoiding looking at Harry.

A few minutes passed where no one spoke. The wind outside grew more violent, transforming into a full-on blizzard.

Harry glanced at the red glow of the medallion around his neck and pulled his stool closer to the other man. "Draco, we need to talk."

Draco's nimble fingers tapped the surface of the stone absentmindedly. "If you say so. It's not like I can go anywhere."

Now being given the chance to address their relationship, Harry didn't know where to start. So he started with the most recent development. "Did you know we're soulmates?"

"Yes. I'm a member of the Soul Squad. We study anything related to the human soul. The Soulmate Detection spell is a simple spell, created by the Unspeakables themselves.” Draco paused before adding. “Of course, I've tried it on myself."

"When did you find out?" was the next question, loaded.

Draco studied Harry's face silently for a few seconds before answering, "After our kiss at the pub." He tucked strands of blond hair behind his ears and cleared his throat. "I was just curious. There is no benefit in knowing your soulmate, after all. It's old magic; interesting to study, but practically, it isn't useful."

"Now, hang on." Harry's own throat constricted. "Not useful? Your colleagues spent 48 hours going round in circles, no idea how to find you, until one of them suggested the soulmate route. They taught me a spell to make me aware of the soulmate connection, and then I could locate you easily." He gestured at the medallion around his neck, pointedly ignoring the green glow of the jade. "I only needed one jump."

Draco gazed forlornly at the device resting against Harry's chest. "Well, it's not typical to find oneself in a limbo world and needing to be rescued, is it?”

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"What would that change, Potter?" Draco snapped as his hands started gesturing wildly. "I know how your childhood and teenage years were influenced by a madman's response to a prophecy that was out of your control. Isn't this similar? An ancient, poorly understood magical force dictates who is compatible with your magic and soul. It's not even comprehensive! It doesn't take into account your emotions, your minds, or your physical compatibility. Why do you think the Department of Mysteries never shared this knowledge with the public? It's useless and even harmful in some instances. It gives false hope and robs people of their agency. Not all soulmates end up getting along. They can even be enemies."

Harry tasted bitterness in his mouth. "We're not enemies."

Draco rubbed his forehead exasperatedly. "Then what are we?"

"That's exactly what we should talk about."

Draco's lips twisted in displeasure as he glared at the table, arms firmly crossed over his chest. "I know what you want, but it's not going to work. You'll get sick of me very quickly. You hate when people keep secrets from you. My whole career is a secret."

"Sure, you can't talk about your job. But you're more than that."

"If I'm not an Unspeakable, what am I?" Draco demanded, the unspoken implication hung in the air.

"Draco, you're not defined by your job. You're brilliant and intelligent. I like you for you." There, Harry had said it. He could not backtrack now. “Hermione and Ron can make it work. They even have a baby together.”

"Weasley and Granger survived a war together."

"Didn't we survive a war too?" Harry quipped, earning a frustrated growl from the other wizard. "Draco, please look at me."

After an excruciating wait, Draco turned on his stool until his body faced Harry, though his arms remained crossed. He lifted his chin and locked eyes with Harry, flinching when the Auror tenderly touched his jaw but neither broke eye contact.

"You can't see me, can you?" Harry murmured bleakly. "No, you refuse to. You always work hard for people to acknowledge your work and that's fine but I'm also right here. I'm right in front of you and I'm in love with you. But you don't want to see that. You don't see me. Have you any idea what that's like?"

Draco’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. "I see you, but... Potter, if I do this with you but we don't work out," he whispered, "I won't be able to handle it. I'm not… strong enough."

Harry felt an invisible weight lift off his shoulders while another, newer and more hopeful, sensation settled in his stomach. "Then let's make sure we make this work," he said resolutely. "It takes effort from both of us. We have to try."

Draco closed his eyes, another protest ready on the tip of his tongue, but he pressed his lips shut together, visibly holding himself back. He was already making an effort.

When he opened his eyes again, he reached out and cupped Harry's cheeks. Draco turned Harry's head from side to side, studying the latter's face. "You're pretty handsome without those ugly glasses."

Harry chuckled. Draco smiled before they both leaned forward and their mouths met in a chaste kiss.

"Thank you," Draco said after they separated, "for coming for me."

After a few more kisses, Harry decided he had held Draco hostage long enough. Harry lengthened the chain around his neck so that it could loop around Draco's neck as well as his own. With Draco's help, he rotated the jade stone a few times before pressing it firmly.

~~~

If Harry had to describe his relationship with Draco Malfoy, five years after they exited the realm of limbo, he would fiddle with the silver wedding band on his left ring finger and grin happily, no words necessary.

~fin~

LINK TO AO3

#wheel of drarry mini exchange #drarry #drarry fic #isamijoo

[the-ghost-king]

what are your headcanons for nico and will’s appearances? like height, facial features, hair, body type, etc. i sometimes struggle to describe them in writing and i would love to hear how you visualize them! you have great descriptions

I'm going to use a mixture of text, reference images, and previous posts I've made to put this together so buckle up anon, and towards the end I talk a bit about how I describe Will and why:

A post I made which talks about all the canonical times Will's looks were discussed, canonically we know Will resembles his mother, and that he has an "athletic build"

And I'd like to start off with some photos for facial reference purposes (quick thing, you might have to click on the photos to view them properly lol) :

I would say Will probably has a more square or oval shaped face, probably a combination type. Although Niels Schneider's facial features aren't how I would describe Will's facial features, the actual shape of his face/head is about what I would say Will's face looked like. (Photo above on the left)

Max Barczak is also commonly used in face claims for Will and I see why, again Barczak has a more squared off face although he holds less "weight" in his face than Schneider. (Photo above on the right)

I don't think that either of their facial features really fit Will's face entirely, and to be honest I can't be like "he has this exact nose" but I often explain him to people as "girl next door pretty- but a boy" and I regularly use Penny from "The Big Bang Theory" (Kaley Cuoco) as a reference to explain what "girl next door pretty" is.

I think his facial features would be more like Charles Vandervaart, or Justin Barnhill... They all have something similiar about their faces, also maybe it's a bit weird to say but Will having something very "Harry Styles" about his face kind of makes sense to me....

Will definitley has curly or at least wavey hair, I know being told "shaggy hair" doesn't mean curly, but I also don't want to think about Zac Efrons early 2000s shaggy hair on Will- so Will has curly hair because it's 2021 and love wins. I don't know exactly what cut he would have, but something a little bit athletic but also a bit overgrown I'm sure.

I like the style below for Will, but I don't know how the "modern mullet" would look with Wills face shape... It's a thought though

As for the use of the word "athletic" and "sporty" when describing Will's build, I don't think this means he's super buff- he's a himbo but he's built slightly more for track and field than football if you can understand. I don't think his body is like ripped, but he probably has some slightly defined muscle... I can't find anything without the guy not being weird about having his shirt off, or any with their shirts on so I don't think I care to put a photo of that in...

I did find a reference image for drawing that works, but after trying to reverse image search it multiple times, I can't figure out where it came from and I feel a little iffy about using it, so here's a link to it on pintrest. I think the guy in the center is probably closest to Will's body type but it's a drawing so of course it's slightly exaggerated in some places... I can't really find any decent reference photos for this, but yeah he's dorito shaped... Small hipped, big shouldered himbo, no thoughts boyfriend cute.

Whenever I'm describing Will I usually say he has "honey blonde hair" or refer to his hair (and sometimes skin) in comparison to "gold" this is because honey was considered divine by the greeks, they mixed it with wine for their gods (Apollo was known to be fond). Also, if you've ever used honey and pulled it out of the jar, when it looks a little thin dripping of your utensil it looks like amber. Gold is a reference to the fact that they also thought gold was divine. On top of that historically speaking may ancient cultures and religions believed gold belonged to the sun god of their religion, so it's a quick nod to Apollo as well. I mentioned amber above in reference to honey, and amber is a substance related to Apollo and Hielos and the sun ;)

I'd reference to Will with Golden/Copper/Bronze skin tones (yellows, oranges, reds) just because all of those things tie back into his godly parenthood.

Although I would reference his looks in relation to his mom more, we don't know much about her other than she also has slightly curly hair and Will shares some facial features with her. It doesn't make sense to compare Will to his mom in a story where she's not present, or other characters don't know her- the only exception I could see to this would be Nico thinking Will reminds him of Naomi, but this only works if Nico has met Naomi (and it works better if the reader of your fic has too). Obviously rules in writing are made to be broken, so do as you wish if it sounds good and feels right, but I just personally avoid Naomi comparisons for a reason.

On the topic of Will's eyes, "sky blue" obviously works because of the connection to Apollo, but "sapphire" might also be an okay word to use although blue eyes aren''t usually so dark. (fun fact: Sapphires used to be called hyacinths! Priests of Apollo had to wear them!)

I generally tend to think of Will as quite tall, but to be entirely honest I have like 3 different versions of Will in my head and I never specify which one I'm talking about. All of them are basically the same with small differences except for their universe, but height is a debated topic between me and Will's design.

Sometimes I'm like "yes he's like 6"5 and bonks his head on doorways" but other times I'm like "he's only like 5"9 which is fairly average" so idk. I do generally try to keep him at or above the American average for white males because it just feels right? There's some weird connection between the sun and height via symbolism but I can't put it in words...

Also when writing Will I take time to compare him to sunlight, plants, music, and "meter" (like in poetry). This could be a gesture he makes, or the movement of a muscle when he smiles, the way the scene around him works, or I've referenced his heartbeat to pentameter and his voice to the flow of poetry.

It's also important to note how you'll describe him in relation to others. For example I take time to compare Austin and Will to warmth, and light, and growth, while I'm more likely to say words like burning, heat, and intense, when talking about Kayla. In reference to Naomi I use words like steady, true, even, kind, measured, and use these for Will as well. I do take time to play off the light/dark aspect with Solangelo a little bit, but not entirely, there's more to them than that- Solangelo tends to be compare:contrasted in my writing.

This is good character writing and design even for oc's, compare them to the people aorund them and figure out what words they have in common and which ones they don't? It works for me and it helps keep your symbolism and references consistent.

Alright anon, one last thing, the best drawing of Will I have ever found was done by @/tanjatoons here, I have yet to find any art that get's how I picture Will to that close besides this one.

#will solace #anon #asks #pjo #meta #characterization #hoo