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laylajeffany · 1 month

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Crying at the Texas Roadhouse | Wenclair One-Shot for @cruciokilljoy

Rating: G WC: 4,500 Summary: Enid’s feelings are hurt and Wednesday tries to resolve them, requiring her to find her soft spot (in public) when Enid starts sobbing in the middle of a chain restaurant in Jericho. Enid's POV, established relationship, unrelated to any of my multi-chapter work TW: Esther Sinclair being herself

@cruciokilljoy You were probably looking for more physical hurt/comfort but both my multi-chap fics have explored that pretty throughly and I am tired of writing the girls in physical pain so I put them through emotional pain instead. Certainly not based on actual, recent conversations with my own hateful mother not at all ☠️

“You were crying.”

Duh.

“Like, an hour ago,” Enid clarified, looking at Wednesday as she stepped into their room with her jacket draped over her arm, sleeves rolled up, hands filthy. She could only imagine what her girlfriend had gotten into (literally, looking at the caked-on mud on her Oxfords that ran up to her stocking-covered knees). “I hardly think that’s the most pressing thing we need to talk about. Why are you covered in dirt?”

“Mud wrestling,” Wednesday replied dryly.

“Not enough on you for that.” Enid rolled her eyes and crossed her sweater-covered arms. She almost didn’t want to know but would certainly rather discuss Wednesday's potentially illegal antics than herself after the challenging evening that she’d already had.

She wasn’t in the mood for bickering, either way - so maybe quiet time would be best.

“Why were you upset?” Clearly, she wasn't going to drop it with her own deflection. Wednesday draped her jacket over the side of her desk chair and toed off her muddy shoes, forcing her to lose the small boost of lift they gave her, putting her squarely two inches beneath Enid. She stood directly in front of her, a kiss away – bearing into Enid with her eyes and forcing truth out of her.

Knowing her lower lip trembled a little, hating her tells and trying to frown the feelings away, Enid looked at her own feet. There was no use lying to Wednesday about an actually serious subject when the evidence was still in the bloodshot veins of her eyes. “My mother called. It was…it’s just always upsetting,” She glanced back up with a forced, sad smile. Wednesday’s eyes lost their intensity from curiosity, but gained something that was largely new for her – sympathy.

How Enid hated it. Deciding to dangle a tantalizing offer in front of her, she forced her pitch to remain neutral as she stated, “I don’t want to dwell on it. Can we skip the part where I rehash how my mom is a miserable person and…just go to dinner? You could edit my lycan paper after, I could use the help…”

Wednesday’s stare continued to be gentle and Enid was about ready to march out of the room if she didn’t quit. She couldn’t stand that. “Stop, please? Wednesday, honestly. I don’t want to talk about it. And I don’t want you to pacify me this evening. My mother always manages to upset me. And even if I stand up to her on the phone, I sometimes need to cry it out after. It’s like…” Deciding to use a weapon analogy, Enid expressed, “Like a fuse. She lit it, I detonated on her, and now there’s some debris to clean up, but I’m actually fine. I want to move on.”

Obviously a little put out by the way her jaw shifted just slightly, Wednesday disappeared wordlessly, returning from the community washroom down the hall with clean hands and sans her stockings, which Enid assumed she’d tossed rather than get any more flak from the on-site laundry service about soiling other people’s clothing.

She disappeared into her closet, coming out in a pair of wide-legged pants and an oversized black sweatshirt that fell nearly to her knees. If Enid could hide her emotions, she supposed she couldn’t comment on Wednesday hiding her body.

To her surprise, Wednesday actually let her not speak about her feelings and folded a hand into hers as she waved to Thing, nonverbally communicating that she wanted to be alone with Enid. Thing had been quite helpful to the whole affair – had heard her mother’s hurtful words, passed her tissues after she finished crying into her pillow, patted her back sweetly…

Wednesday led her to the foyer but didn’t turn to the right to take them to the cafeteria. Enid blinked a few times when Wednesday tugged her right out the front door and down the front steps. Confused, and really not in the mood to go investigating anything, particularly to discover whatever had Wednesday so dirty, Enid whined a little, “Can’t we just eat?”

“It’s Monday,” Her voice was just a touch darker than it had been in their room. “Nevermore’s infamous attempt at cowering to the vegetarians is tonight, and I don’t think their imitation beef is going to help you feel any better. We’re heading into town – I’m getting you a steak.” Well, that certainly perked her up just a little bit. “Withdrawing red meat once a week in an effort to be more environmentally friendly when ten percent of the student campus requires it as part of their metabolic diet is cruel, performative activism and we don’t need to be part of it. It makes as much sense as banning plastic straws. You don’t create systems change by following trends. Meatless Monday is going to meet my full-meat fist one of these days. But tonight, we’re going to crush peanut shells underfoot at a chain restaurant instead.”

More than okay with getting that salty coating in between the grooves of her furry, pink boots, Enid pulled Wednesday to her in a hug when they arrived to the edge of the forest trail that would take them into Jericho. Wednesday sucked in a breath of surprise at being forced into her hold but returned it after just a second of processing what was happening to her. “I don’t mean to take my bad mood out on you,” Enid apologized.

“I do it to you all the time,” Wednesday mumbled into her shoulder, sighing as she hooked her arms around her middle, hanging on just as tightly. “Usually for far-less valid reasons.” She pulled away to put her palms on Enid’s shoulders and met her eyes without that sympathy…instead…

Wednesday’s brown gaze in the setting sun was highly empathetic and made Enid drop half the tension in her shoulders. “I might also be a little hangry,” She confessed as her stomach roared suddenly between them.

There was a flirtation of a smirk on Wednesday’s lips at the noise and she said nothing, merely took her hand again, leading them boldly through the woods for a twenty-minute walk into town.

Enid swore she felt better just at the sight of the neon lights outlining the state of Texas with a cowboy hat perched on top of it when the restaurant was in view. Inside promised at least a feeling of satisfaction for the wolf within her, and that could often soften the meltdown of her personhood, too.

“Two, please,” Wednesday politely replied when the hostess, a too-cool Jericho High student with rapidly growing roots sticking out of her bleach blonde hair snapped her gum and looked irritated to have to ask how many were in their party.

Holding back her own growl of irritation, Enid would admit, she was relatively surprised by how well-behaved Wednesday could be in spaces like public restaurants. She often claimed that staff were simply victims of the State or something about labor rights, and generally tipped far more than Enid would’ve thought that they had earned.

Enid watched a basket of rolls be taken into a waitress’ hands and swallowed the saliva that threatened to slip out of her lips, thinking Wednesday was about to drop her hand as she often did in public – but not that day. She must’ve sensed some of her mother’s conversation had been about, willing to take on any bigot that might’ve had something to say about the two of them in a relationship. Vermont might’ve been one of the more progressive states in the country, but – certainly, so was California, and her mother had a whole lot to say from there that evening…

Once they were seated, Enid took a roll without waiting even a beat for the young woman who would be taking care of them to go through her required spiel, while Wednesday simply gave a curt nod at her before giving all of her attention to Enid as she went to return with water. (Enid could hardly wait for the day she could down one of those massive margaritas in the advertisements all over the establishment.)

She was halfway through with her first roll when Wednesday’s harsh stare asked the question before she needed to confirm, “You missed lunch with that extra dance practice today.”

“I’m sorry,” Enid said, just about ready to own up to anything – even things she hadn’t done, in an effort to just keep everyone from blowing up at her anymore that day. She really couldn’t handle Wednesday being frustrated with her, too -

“Next time, tell me,” Wednesday ordered, her voice clipped; Enid stared hard at the rings on the wooden, lacquered tabletop, willing her next round of sadness to stay internal. “I’ll bring you something to class. Don’t apologize to me.”

About to say ‘sorry’ again, Enid just bit her lip, seeing the tears that were threatening to well up in her gaze. She tried to blink them away, and was grateful when the waitress asked if they needed more time with the menu when she brought their water over. Enid just shook her head, while Wednesday started, then said her name in a very gentle tone – and all the up and down of soft and hard was really –

“Um, the twelve-ounce New York strip, please – rare.”

“You know that means pink, possibly bloo-”

Wednesday was quick to defend her. “She knows what her body requires.”

Enid let out a shuddered breath, quietly asking for her sides before the waitress left. Wednesday reached across the table and took both of Enid’s hands, clearly needing to understand more about what was making her act so small and miserable. “Tell me what your mother said.”

“I don’t want to think about it,” Enid argued, feeling her tone rising as hysteria was pouring out of each vein, flooding her body.

“You obviously already are. It’s weighing on you. Release the burden, and you’ll feel relief.”

As the first tear fell, Wednesday’s face contorted from intensity and certainty to overwhelmed and near helplessness as she obviously hadn't thought through the fact that Enid was going to cry in public. She squeezed Enid’s hands, but the gesture only caused the second one to dribble, then the third, and the fourth, and Enid brought her sweater up over her face to keep from letting out an audible sob in the restaurant.

Thankfully, Wednesday had some sort of awareness about what to do – they’d been dating for months and friends for so long, she’d seen her fair share of Enid’s breakdowns and generally knew what did and didn’t help. When the preventative measures clearly weren’t working that Monday, she stood up and rounded to the space beside her, putting an arm around her and letting Enid fold herself into her chest. The unexpected display of affection was actually bringing out even more of her release. God – that hug to soothe her emotions into was exactly what Enid needed, and the fact that Wednesday had it in her to be soft enough around her to let her break down, in a half-full restaurant, into her arms? She loved her more than anything, and Enid knew that, she just wished, maybe – well, Wednesday was probably right. She did just need to talk about it to work through it.

When she met the black strings of her hoodie, Enid knew she let out a cry of a sniffly sound. It was embarrassing, devastating, really, to be having a full breakdown at the Texas Roadhouse. But Wednesday had been determined to try and make her feel better that evening and was going to have to finish what she started, even if that meant snuggling her in a vinyl-covered booth while the waitress awkwardly put their salads down on the same side of the table a few minutes after the crying began.

Wednesday unrolled one of the fabric napkins, shaking out a knife and the forks. For a brief, split-second, Enid thought she really might eat one-handed while she continued to snivel all over her chest, but Wednesday instead used the square to dab Enid’s cheeks, soaking up the tears that hadn’t been absorbed into her sweatshirt. She adjusted her hold on her girlfriend and looked at her with something new –

Sincerity.

Almost blubbering again, Enid just nodded, knowing it would do well to admit what Esther had said to her on the phone. “My…mother – she was …on her weekly rampage, about…everything. Nevermore, administration refusing to split us up – you not receiving any consequences from last semester…the usual. Then…it shifted,” She sniffed. “She brought up my late blooming, how I’d been so privileged to have been even have parents who cared enough to offer to send me to lycanthropy conversion camp…”

Wednesday’s hand curled on her upper thigh at that.

“And when she wasn’t getting a rise out of me for that, she dug deeper – the normal line of inane ramblings of how she couldn’t believe after all that time, ‘that Addams girl’ was what got me to shift for the first time…and, when I reminded her, ‘that Addams girl’ is Wednesday, my girlfriend, she…she…just said, ‘we don’t talk about that,’ and started bitching about the value of a Nevermore education not matching up to the price tag, not that it mattered – since none of her pack were scoring above a 3.5 on the ‘mediocre’ grading system, moved on to my scar tissue and wanting me to come home to have a consultation with a plastic surgeon for a revision procedure, and I said that wasn’t going to happen and hung up on her. Then I cried.”

Watching Wednesday respond to the entirety of the call was like discovering something new hidden in a sensory tube every other second. While she was short for words, Wednesday’s eyes always spoke volumes about what she would say if she dared to put her thoughts out verbally. Mr. Addams had described her tongue as that of a viper to Enid more than once when telling stories about her, so she was pretty sure it was often for the best that Wednesday focused on taking in all the information before reacting. She knew that Wednesday tended to get into it with administrators and authority, but at least with Enid – she was far more even-tempered in how she responded to hearing words she didn’t like.

Enid let out a long breath and picked up one of the forks that Wednesday had shaken out of the napkin, needing to channel her energy into anything but crying again. She speared leafy greens onto the tines, trying not to visualize doing the same to any of her mother’s more vulnerable body parts, for that matter – wondering which Wednesday would fantasize about ripping out first in her defense.

“I’m sorry, Enid,” Wednesday spoke through a near whisper of a tone.

Hearing those words come out of Wednesday was like hearing foreign language that she needed to interpret. Her fork fell out of her hand. Not wanting to startle her anymore, Enid brought her longing, hopeful sort of gaze to Wednesday’s. “Why are you apologizing now?”

Wednesday drew her hands into her lap, staring straight ahead. It took her some time to form her response, likely, if Enid had to guess, because of the emotion that was pooling in her own eyes. She knew her damn well enough that she wouldn’t shed anything close to a tear in public, but Wednesday was very much on the edge. It didn’t make sense – she’d done nothing wrong, aside from maybe push her into talking about it when Enid knew what that would unleash, but even then – it’s not like she had been the one to say all those hurtful things…

“I suppose I am not apologizing with my sorry. But I am sorry that I contributed to enough of your mother’s ire that she took it out on you. I’m sorry that she continues to refuse to acknowledge that you are in a non-traditional relationship, let alone demonstrate any sort of positive feeling about it. I’m sorry that she continues to bring up painful events of the past, and attempt to shame you for them, or think you should have been grateful for her wanting to send you to an abusive situation. I’m sorry that she thinks your grades aren’t good enough – you’ve got a 3.87 right now, which is Magna cum laude and I’m really proud of you for working diligently at increasing your grade point average. I’m sorry that she thinks you need plastic surgery. If you wanted to, that would be your choice. But I love your scars, and I think they’re beautiful.”

Enid could barely breathe. She wasn’t sure if Wednesday had ever said so many words consecutively, let alone that indicated her true feelings on any subject matter…that she was harboring so many about her, in particular. Trying not to let herself curl up into the faux-wooden logs that made up the side wall of their booth, Enid finally found the ability to expand her lungs and release the last of the tension she’d been harboring. “I don’t want you to feel sorry for me.”

“It’s not in pity,” Wednesday clarified. “It’s not. It’s…perhaps a feeling that I don’t have a schema for.” She gave a rare blink as she seemed to be trying to find the emotional vocabulary within her to better explain herself, staring at Enid, who was pretty sure she was going to need an inhaler by the end of dinner at the rate Wednesday was taking her breath away. Finally, she gave a nearly-invisible shrug as she further clarified, “I just know, that I love you. And I despise that anyone would attempt to make you feel small, or anything else negative, especially someone who is also supposed to love you unconditionally. And I am sorry, that you were forced to endure that. All your life. So…I’m sorry, and I hope to make it up to you.”

Tilting her head, sniffing just a little, finding the shiest hint of a smile, Enid promised in a watery whisper, “You are. Right now. You…knew that I needed to take care of myself, and that school wasn’t going to cut it, and you brought me to the Texas Roadhouse,” She let out a small bubble of a laugh. “Here, I’ll get what I need to sustain me, but while we’re waiting,” She paused, reaching over for one of Wednesday’s clasped hands, forcing them apart so they could squeeze one another’s. “You’re giving me the opportunity to release what doesn’t. Thank you, Wednesday.”

There was a new wave on Wednesday’s features – a distinct mark of relief in her gaze as she swept it, unblinking onto Enid again. “It is hardly my forte to make someone who was sad return to baseline, let alone anything akin to happiness…”

“You’ve done a pretty remarkable job for me,” Enid assured her when the waitress brought out their main courses, looking a little awkward as she put them near their still-full salad plates.

“Uh…anything else I can bring you girls?”

“A total end to the heteronormative, compulsory, traditional society we continue to find ourselves existing in,” Wednesday said without hesitating.

The waitress blinked.

Enid shook her head. “I think we’ve got anything we need, right here.”

The woman left with wide, confused eyes and Enid sighed, cutting into her steak without thinking twice, watching the red ooze out onto her plate. The sight grossed her out, but she knew it would do her body good.

Sure enough – halfway into the steak, she was feeling remarkably better already. “Try to finish it,” Wednesday prompted her. “The full moon is on Thursday, you should be nearly doubling your caloric intake.”

Kissing her cheek, earning the slightest twinge of red to her cheeks, Enid thanked her and followed through, polishing off the meat, picking at her vegetables while Wednesday ate with a distinct sort of raised-higher-class slowness that she usually did.

After finishing and watching Wednesday tip the waitress almost double what the bill had been, Enid took her hand and made it her turn to lead them – the yellow glow of a Dollar General sign across the street tempting her. “I feel like properly finishing up my breakdown by making a frivolous, five-dollar purchase.”

Wednesday’s eyes rolled but she didn’t fight her. Mid 2000s soft-pop radio was playing as they stepped into the nearly desolate discount store, one that Enid liked because of the deadstock that featured some of her favorite comfort characters from her childhood. Knowing exactly what she wanted, she led Wednesday through precariously stacked makeshift aisles of cardboard boxes filled with inventory that would be put out by the one employee working there over the course of several weeks. She hummed along to the music, singing along softly with Colbie Caillat, feeling a little bubbly herself as Wednesday refrained from spewing out comments on late-stage capitalism or some such true, but nonsensical arguing that would accomplish nothing between them. “Here they are,” She said, gesturing to a host of children’s coloring books. Wondering if Wednesday's limited access to traditional children's media would kick in, Enid playfully wondered, “Anybody look familiar to you?”

“Even someone who spent a significant portion of her childhood exploring the caves below the house like myself can recognize the ultimate example of corporate greed, the mouse that is Mickey.”

“Yikes,” Enid commented, “I’ll steer clear of the Disney characters.” Mentally retracting her statement to herself about Wednesday being able to hold back full-punch societal comments, she smirked, spotting what she wanted pretty much right away, taking a pink, Strawberry Shortcake book into her hold. “Will you color with me?”

“I cannot promise that I won’t be giving the fruitcake a makeover. And a knife.”

Giggling, then singing along a little more as she took Wednesday’s hand and wove her through the maze of mess before checking out – spending a whopping two dollars and twelve cents to achieve the final release in neurotransmitters that would complete her night.

After a walk back to Ophelia Hall that included a great production of sneaking back into the campus as they’d left without permission, Enid and Wednesday both found themselves in their pajamas and ready for bed before Enid took her art supplies out from a basket, revealing about three hundred colored pencils in different shades.

Wednesday flipped through the coloring book with a touch of a nose wrinkle, staring at the smiley, fruit-themed girls. She was going out of her way, clearly setting every intention of getting through the moment to make her girlfriend happy as she'd claimed. Finally letting out a real, whole laugh, Enid earned her perplexed stare. “You did it,” She promised. Wednesday waited and Enid winked. “You didn’t just reset me to factory settings, but you made me happy. I promise. You totally do not have to color with me. You can read or edit papers or whatever else is going to make you happy, too. So long as you’re not out solving mysteries, but here with me.”

There was a beat of relief as Wednesday took out a book she’d been reading through, curling up beside Enid, who took some creative liberties as Wednesday would have, forcing a picture of Lemon Meringue, the pigtailed character, and Strawberry Shortcake to look as close to herself and Wednesday as possible, even adding a little knife into Lemon’s hand. Wednesday let Enid pick the music, but she went with one of her playlists of cello covers as a compromise for both of them.

When she finished and flashed the coloring sheet to her girlfriend, Wednesday almost smiled, amusement evident in her eyes as she took a knife out of her pajama pocket (naturally – everyone needed a bedtime knife), evenly slicing it out of the book. She tacked it up on Enid’s bulletin board before putting all the coloring supplies away while Enid watched. Finally, she turned off all the lights except the strand of twinkling ones she’d magically learned to tolerate once they started dating.

She brought Enid to the floor-bed they’d made with a roll-away mattress that was more comfortable than cramming into either of their twin beds, lying on her back as usual, and inviting Enid to curl up with her with silence, just vague gestures – a pat of her own chest, a small nod…

“Wednesday, I love you. Thank you, for making me feel one hundred percent better. I feel even better than before my mom called,” Enid said softly, nuzzling into her.

Wednesday’s fingers instinctively wove into her hair. “I’m tempted to block her number on your phone so she can’t get a hold of you. I can’t promise that if I’m in the room the next time she calls, I won’t make her feel something about herself that is more than true.”

“Good,” Enid encouraged with a contented huff. “She deserves that.”

“You didn’t deserve what she said or attempted to do to you in the past. And I hope that…her comments about…us, don’t make you second guess things. I am always here – to repair and comfort what she has hurt or damaged, as long as you want me to.”

Enid squeezed her affectionately. “You are excellent at comforting my hurts.”

There was a small breath of alleviation she felt from Wednesday. Wanting her to really understand that, she added, “You went out of your way for me tonight. You could’ve just given me a hug, taken me down to the dining hall, and come up to edit my paper. But you didn’t. You knew what very specific things would make me physically feel better, then opened yourself up emotionally for me, too. You’re the best. I love you.”

Wednesday clutched her tightly with one palm wrapped around her back, the other gently tracing the skin near Enid’s scars. Her words felt a little surprising when she added, “I would like to apologize for forcing you to talk about what happened before you were ready. I’m sure you would have liked to not cry in public at the Texas Roadhouse.”

“I think it’s a perfectly lovely public place to have a breakdown,” Enid said with a giggle at her own expense.

Wednesday said nothing other than a quiet, “I love you. Go to sleep.”

Closing her eyes so she could follow the direction, Enid sighed very contently, reflecting on the evening as she drifted off to have the chance to start over in a new day.

Layla is working through prompts and determined to write the Black Menagerie epilogue for the weekend - stay tuned for more ✌🏼

#Wednesday 2022 #Fanfic #Wenclair #One-Shot #visual for my non-american readers of what a Texas Roadhouse looks like 🫶🏻#who among us hasn't cried in a chain restaurant?#unbeta’d #the collection of one-shots I write mostly in a closet at work is bringing me great joy #thank you for all the prompts I struggle to do any kind of one-shot on my own #layla's >5k challenge

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crimsonwritings · 3 months

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Of guilt and love

Pairing: Cassian x female reader

Summary: After the battle of Adriata Cassian struggles with the loss of so many lives and questions his abilities as General. Thankfully Y/N is there to help him through it.

Warnings: mention of injuries, angst

Words: 4.5k

A/N: This is my very first fic and I hope you enjoy! Thank you @hellodarling1357 for motivating and supporting me. You are the best!

The sounds of the camp hit us with a brutal force as Mor winnowed us to the location that had been chosen. After the conversation I had just witnessed between my High Lord, High Lady and the High Lord of Summer we probably should have been thankful that Tarquin had offered our legions to spend the night on his territory. Even though our two Courts had just fought side by side against Hybern the trust that had been broken would not be gained back by only one battle. I had seen it in Tarquins eyes as he had thanked Mor, Feyre and me for cleaning out the palace and I could see it now, in the eyes of Rhysand who looked like he just lost a friend before the friendship had even time to blossom. For that´s what Rhysand saw in Tarquin. An equal, not only in their positions as High Lords, but in their dreams as well. Dreams of a better future, a better world.

Right now the hopes of such a future were shut out by the hopeless sight in front of us. The situation in the camp seemed utterly chaotic. Soldiers, who were unharmed, ran around getting supplies for the healers who were yelling their orders over the frantic sounds all around us. I noticed the shaking hands of a particularly young Illyrian as he stormed back to one of the healers, holding bandages in his hand. But his trembling fingers betrayed him and the supply landed on the muddy ground, earning the boy a slap to the back of his head. I felt sorry for him. It´s probably been his first battle and I could sense he was overwhelmed, wishing to be home in the Illyrian mountains, in the warmth provided by his family, his friends, maybe a girl or even a mate.

Mate. I didn´t even realise my feet had started moving on their own attempt, desperate to lead me to him. My eyes scanning over the camp frantically, trying to catch a glimpse of his wings, his red siphons, his swept back hair. But all I could see were the injured soldiers lying on the ground, whimpering in pain, some screaming out to the mother or any other old god to help them, to lead them out of their misery. All I could see was the struggle in the eyes of the healers, who had to decide which injuries had to be healed immediately and which would have to wait until the worst was over. My heart started to beat rapidly in my chest, the force almost causing me pain. My breath threatened to get stuck in my throat, I could already feel my lungs begging for the oxygen the humid air provided. I forced myself to take a deep breath, even though it smelled like mud and blood and burnt meat. The smell of lost hope and shattered dreams. Tears welled up in my eyes as the panic almost took over…

And there he was. Standing in the middle of the improvised infirmary, holding the hand of a young Illyrian, probably the same age as the one I saw earlier. The young male was covered in blood, though it was hard to tell if it was his own or belonged to one of his comrades. His left leg seemed to be crippled. It was laid out on the army cot in an unnatural angle, twitching every now and then. As I got closer to the both of them I could hear Cassian muttering reassuring words to the young Illyrian, who looked up at his General as if he had been sent by the mother herself. By the sight in front of me I started to believe that as well. If Cassian had noticed me he didn’t make it clear. His eyes were entirely fixated on the injured male as he kept talking and talking to calm down the nerves of the said one. To make time pass faster, if only for a little bit, until a healer was ready to take care of his wounds.

“You did a great job out there today, you know that?” The Illyrian hummed in response, the pain probably making it impossible for him to talk back, but Cassian understood and continued. “You should be proud of yourself. I saw you taking down these two Hybern soldiers at once. I knew you were ready for this when I saw you training at the camp last time. Your family will be proud of you. I am proud of you, Zac.” The eyes of the soldier lit up at the General´s words. I could have sworn there were stars dancing in his brown orbs as the realisation hit him. The General of the Night Court´s armys, the Illyrian warrior whose battle armor was decorated with seven siphons, the image of power, the Lord of Bloodshed was proud of him. Not only that but he also remembered his name. Tears dwelled in my eyes but not out of panic like before. No, these tears were resembling the joy that cascaded around the soldier. The smile that was tugging on his lips made me forget about the horrors that still lingered around me.

Finally a healer attempted to the male, Zac, and started to examine his wound. Cassian squeezed his hand one last time, throwing a thankful look at the healer before he stepped in my direction. My heart broke at the sight of him. Even though he didn’t seem to be injured himself, there was pain in his beautiful hazel eyes. His face was the color of ash. “Sweetheart…”

The sound of his voice broke my trance. Relief flooded my body, the fear of loosing him finally falling off of me and I jumped into his arms, wrapping my own around his neck, burying my face in his shoulder, to let all the emotions that threatened to eat me up, out in a stream of tears. “You’re alive! You’re safe!” I repeated the words over and over again, only to convince myself that this was real, that it were his strong arms holding me so close to his chest as if I would simply disappear if he let go. That it was his scent that reached my nose, shutting out the smell of blood. Meanwhile Cassian showered my head in kisses while reassuring me that he was fine with his words. “It’s okay sweetheart, I’m here. Nothing is gonna take me from you. Shh, it’s okay.”

The scene probably didn’t last more than three minutes, a short moment of two mates being in their own little bubble of love and relief. When I calmed down I raised my head, pressed my forehead against his and let our breaths collide.

An egoistic voice of fear and exhaustion sounded in my head, to take him and get him as far from here as possible, back home, where I could lie in bed with him till eternity, just soaking in his presence. But I knew it was not the right time yet. Not as Cassian struggled to keep his posture, resisting the urge to slump into me and let me lull him into delusion. Right now he wanted to be strong, be there for his men, for there were still so many waiting to be healed, groaning in pain.

“I need to stay with them…” His voice was weak, barely more than a whisper. I brushed a strand of hair out of his face, that had been to stubborn to stay in his bun, and sent a wave of love and understanding down our bond. “I know. We will stay, for as long as you want us to.”

Cassian seemed surprised by my suggestion. “You don’t have to, you should go have some rest, you don’t have to wait for me.”

“I’m not planning to wait for you, Cassian. I want to be there for you. And I also can’t bare the thought of leaving you alone right now, it would drive me mad. So I will stay. See if I can help.” Adoration gleamed in his eyes at my words and I could feel it as well as a huge wave of it made its way towards me down the bond.

“We will all see what we can do.” Rhysands voice sounded from behind, causing Cassian to put me back down on my feet. As I turned around my eyes met dark blue ones, so deep you could believe they were violet. But even though they were stunning as always they seemed to be dimmed, as if a veil of guilt and sorrow lay before the usual glimmering lights. The same veil I had seen over my mates eyes seconds ago. I hated it. Hated that Hybern made two of the people closest to me, the people I loved and respected, feel this way. I hated that Rhysand, who wasn´t only my High Lord to me but also the brother I always longed to have, had to take the burden of war after everything he´d gone through under the mountain. How cruel could fate be, to make him return to freedom, to his family and even find love along the way, only to threaten it all over again.

“We should go check if the healers need a hand.” He smiled at me and I could feel a familiar scratch of darkness at my mental shield. I let it down and the High Lord spoke in my head the words he wanted nobody else to hear. Thank you for staying by his side. I am really grateful that the Cauldron made you his mate. I know you will never let him down but please take care of him tonight. He might not be showing it but I know him…I don’t want him to be alone in this. He needs you.

I won’t leave his side, no matter how hard he might push me away. You know how stubborn I tend to be. A giggle escaped from Rhysand’s lips at my answer. It wasn’t a heartfelt one, like the ones he usually made during family dinners or nights out at Rita’s but it warmed my heart anyway. That I know love. It’s actually one of the reasons why I took you into my Court.

With that he made his way over to the healer in command, probably to ask her if anything could be done to ease their work. Feyre didn’t leave his side as if she could tell that he wasn’t doing as well as he pretended to.

Turning to Cassian again I could see his eyes darting between the wounded Illyrians, his head trying to figure out to whom he should tend next. “Will you introduce me to them? I only know them from your story’s and I would love to meet the men fighting for our Court.”

It was true, Cassian never took me with him when he had to visit Windhaven, considering the fact that females still didn’t enjoy the same rights in the war camps as they did in Velaris. I had always respected his wishes, knowing that he only did it to keep me safe. Though sometimes I wondered if the fact that Devlon constantly questioned Cassians position, testing and provoking him was another reason why he wanted me to stay away. Every time he came back he seemed drained and every time I would ask him questions about his trip. I loved how his eyes shimmered with pride as he told me about the progress of the young recruits. Not even his annoyance with the camp lords could dim that light.

We started to make our way to a tall man who was pressing a cloth to his head. He seemed to be in a better condition than Zac had been as he jokingly told us that head wounds usually looked worse than they were. Still his face was pale from the blood loss. Cassian introduced us and I started to clean out the wound. I didn’t know if I was doing a good job with it but I couldn’t risk for him getting an infection either. As I finished my work one of the healers came up to us, reassuring me that she could take it from here. She started to bandage his head as I spoke. “Thank you for being so brave today. The Night Court is lucky to have you.” The soldier nodded in appreciation and Cassian took my hand, squeezing it. I got on my tip toes to kiss his cheek and gestured for him to lead me to the next Illyrian.

It went on like this for hours, until far after midnight our group reunited outside again. Most of the patients were finally provided for, slumbering on their cots as exhaustion had taken over. Our group seemed just as drained. Mor almost couldn´t keep her eyes open and seemed dangerously close to falling asleep while still standing, judging on the way she swayed from time to time. Azriel had noticed it as well. The shadowsinger silently approached her, took her into his arms and sent one finale nod to all of us, before carrying the blonde woman to her tent. I admired him, first for his physical strength. I honestly didn´t know where it still came from, after that seemingly never ending day of fighting and helping the wounded. Second, for his loyalty, taking care of her regardless of the unrequited feelings he held for her.

Feyre and Rhys were the next to leave, the latter having an even darker look on his face than before. The High Lady led him to their tent but turned around and I could feel her asking for permission to speak to me. I let down my mental shields. I guess we have something in common tonight.

I didn’t need to ask what, or who, she meant by that. Yes, I guess we have.

I am scared Y/N. I’ve never seen Rhys like this. I’ve never seen both of them like this. Because this was her first time witnessing them make such difficult decisions.

They will be fine. Simply be there for him, show him that he is not alone, try to get him out of his head.

All right, I can do that. Take care!

You too.

My eyes lingered on the both of them a little bit longer, until I turned around to see the utterly exhaustion in my mates face. “We should head into our tent as well.” He could only nod and let me lead him to our place for the night. Inside I started to peel of my fighting leathers, then made my way over to him and helped him get rid of his as well.

Usually he would have made a joke about it, probably something about me being his eager little girl who couldn’t wait to see him naked. Now that the burden of guilt lasted on him his mind seemed to be anywhere but here with me. I wondered if he could still hear the battle raging on around him, like I did. Was he hearing their screams right now, over and over again? Or was there silence in his head, a silence so deep and definitive he felt empty, just like his eyes looked right now? Either way, I couldn’t stand seeing him like this. It made my heart wrench.

“Come on now, let´s get you into a bath. To wash off the day.” He didn’t say a word as I took his hand and led him to the small bathtub that was standing in a slightly separated section of the tent. It was nothing more than a huge barrel but it would have to do for now. Thankfully it was already filled with water, not warm but the nights at the summer court were still hot, leaving the only thing to worry about the giant wings of my mate. They barely fitted but he somehow managed as he slowly sat down in the tub. Grabbing a piece of soap I placed myself behind him, sitting on the edge of the barrel, letting my legs dip into the water. Obviously I was also covered in dirt but I didn’t care, the comfort of Cassian being my top priority right now.

He stared blankly into space as I started to rub the dirt of his shoulders, his arms, his back. Soon the water turned the shade of an unidentifiable colour, from the mixture of sweat and mud and blood. The blood of our enemies, that had already started to crust on my mates skin, as well as the blood of our own forces, still fresh from when he took care of them earlier. If I had to describe the colour I guess sorrowful would be a perfect term.

Now Cassians gaze lowered to the surface of that dirty water and I could hear the tears in his voice as he spoke. “To many. I lost to many today. To many young lives. All because of me.” Him. Not Rhys, not the Night Court. For Cassian, he himself was the one who lost them. “Cassian, please look at me.”

But he didn’t. Instead he pulled his legs even closer to his chest, wrapping his arms around them, laying his forehead on his knees. He looked like a child, so vulnerable. The last time I had seen him like this was the day Rhysand got captured by Amarantha. When his final message had reached us it was Azriel’s rage that broke free. The shadowsinger had went into his room where you could hear him scream and shatter his furniture until nothing was left. I had never seen him loose control like this, prior or after. But Cassian went quiet. The joyful, carefree Illyrian who always had a silly comment for every situation went quiet, curled himself into a fetal position and started to sob.

Just like he did now. They were silent, yet it was the most heartbreaking sound I ever heard. I could swear I felt my heart shatter into a thousand pieces as I swung my legs out of the barrel, rounded it and knelt down, right in front of him. I laid my hands on the sides of his head and forced him to look in my direction, careful not to hurt him, yet determined. But he wouldn’t open his eyes, as if he was to ashamed to face me. So I started to speak, keeping my voice as soft as I could, still it was trembling at the sight in front of me. “None of this is your fault Cassian, you hear me? As horrible as it is, we are at war. A war that hasn’t been started by us but Hybern. Every single one of these soldiers knew what to expect when they started their military training. They all got prepared for a situation like this. To defend our Court and the whole of Prythian against any potential threat. They knew what would come. And they followed you anyway.”

“Exactly, they followed me. They trusted me to lead them out of this, not into death.” His voice had gotten louder, full of anger I knew wasn’t meant for me but himself and he shook his head as if he wanted to shake off my hands but I didn’t let go. If he wanted to he could have gotten out of my grip before I could even register it, yet he didn’t .

His furrowed face was evidence to his struggle I felt down our bond, either to get out of here, not bothering me with his demons, or staying here, in the comfort of his mate. It felt like two voices inside of him clashed with each other, screaming at Cassian to do the right thing. But he didn’t know what the right thing was. Tears streamed down his cheeks, leaving salty traces on their path. He was trembling with sorrow and guilt and it threatened to overwhelm him.

I couldn’t take it anymore. Not giving a damn about the fact that I was still in my undergarments I stepped into the tub and pulled Cassian into my arms. His wings took so much space that I had to keep myself in a half standing position, but that didn’t matter to me either. Gently stroking his hair I tried to get him out of his head, whispering anything I could think of to reassure him, to bring him back to me. “Shh, it’s okay my love, I’m here! I’m right here, I won’t go anywhere. Please look at me. Open those beautiful eyes for me. Please!”

Finally he did. After what seemed like endless minutes of torture he calmed down and turned his head towards me again. His eyes were red and puffy but still as breathtaking as ever and I couldn’t help but smile at the warmth I instantly felt, looking at them. The warmth I always felt at the sight of them, comforting and sweet, like home. Hoping he could feel it too I sent a wave of it down the bond and it seemed to work its magic as a small smile formed on his still wobbling lips, if only for the shortest moment. “None of them wanted to die.”

“But they knew that there was always a chance for them to die. They were willing to give their life for the same purpose you would do it. To protect the ones who can’t defend themselves.” I knew he recognised his own words, the words he had once spoken to the eldest Archeron sister. I could see it on his face.

His eyes started to water again as a new thought conquered his mind. “What if I could have prevented it? What if my choices were all wrong? Some of them fought for the first time today, maybe they still weren´t ready yet and I was just to stupid to see it. I should have given them more time, train with them more often, I…”

“Please my love, stop. You are General for a reason. It´s not only because you fight like a goddamn natural force but because you are perfect at strategy. I know it, Azriel knows it. Rhysand knows it, even if he hates your decisions sometimes. But you want to know what really makes you the best General I could think of?” He nodded his head, even though that was doubt in his gaze, as if he didn’t believe that there could be any reason I would think that way.

“It´s because you care, Cassian. You care about every single one of them as if they were your family. They are not some chess pieces to you, who you can push around on the battlefield. You see them. All of them. It goes so far, you even know all of their names! Do you even realize what that means to them? What it means to them that you stayed with them today, waiting for the healers, just talking to them?” A sob from his lips, though this time it was mixed with a smile.

“I know that you would have done everything in your power to prevent those deaths, if there had been a chance. Because you would give your life, if it meant that only one of them would live. And honestly I hate you for it, because I can´t lose you and I´m freaking out every time you pull shit like that.” A slight laughter escaped his mouth, still teary, yet if the sobs from earlier were the most horrific sound I ever heard, this laugh was definitely one of the most beautiful ones. “But at the same time I love you for it. That´s just who you are. My wonderful, selfless, brave mate.”

Cassian’s eyes shimmered with tears, the ones of sorrow and the ones of adoration he felt at my words. “I thank the cauldron every day, that it blessed me with you as a mate. I don´t know what I would do without you.”

“You will always have me with you, no matter what. That´s what we swore each other at our mating ceremony, remember?” I looked deep into his eyes, wanting for him to see how much I meant it.

“How could I ever forget, sweetheart?” I pulled him closer again and now he wrapped his arms around me as well, finally letting the touch he so desperately wanted happen. The silence that now lingered between us was a comfortable one. For a moment we simply enjoyed each other’s presence. Cassian seemed to get calmer with every minute, though he still held me in his grip as if I was the anchor he needed.

After a while he spoke again. “You know, this tub is probably the most uncomfortable one I’ve ever been in.” I couldn’t help myself but laugh at his joke. This sounded more like the male I was so hopelessly in love with.

“You are right my love, let’s get you out of here.” My face held a relieved smile as we dried ourselves and climbed underneath the covers of the bed. Cassian instantly pulled me into his arms, pressing soft kisses to my forehead and cheeks. “I’m sorry that you had to take care of me. I know you were probably scared to death for me today and I let you deal alone with your demons, all because I wasn’t capable of keeping myself together….hmm.” I interrupted his nonsense with a kiss. It was the first one we shared this day and I put everything in it. My fear of losing him today. The pride I felt for him. The love I felt for him. And after the first moment of surprise he did the same for me. Our feelings raced through the bond like electric shocks, I thought I might hear them crackle throughout the tent.

Soon the kiss became heated and it would have definitely become something more if exhaustion didn’t cause me to pull away, to yawn. Cassian chuckled at the sight, causing butterflies in my stomach. “As much as I want to show you how much I love you we should probably go to sleep.” I nodded, my eyelids threatening to flutter shut every moment. He blew out the candles and cuddled into me.

I was already half asleep when I heard him. “I´ll have to go inform the families of the fallen about…” He couldn’t say deaths. “Will you come with me? I know it is a lot I’m asking for and if it makes you feel uncomfortable you don´t have to come! It´s just, I would rather not be alone, facing them.” My fingers started to stroke the hand he had placed on my stomach and my face automatically turned to him, even though I couldn’t see him in the dark. “Of course I will come with you! I will be there, every step of the way. You are not alone, Cassian!”

Somehow his lips found mine again, gifting me a soft, sweet kiss. “Thank you. Now sleep, tomorrow is going to be a long day.”

I could only murmur my response. “Good night my love.”

“Good night sweetheart.” The last thing I remembered was his wing spreading over me in a protective manner.

#cassian x reader #cassian #a court of thorns and roses #a court of wings and ruin #rhysand #azriel #feyre archeron #feysand #cassian x you #cassian x y/n #a court of mist and fury #a court of frost and starlight #a court of silver flames #morrigan #night court #velaris #cassian fluff #cassian angst

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rainnmaybank · 10 months

Text

Maybe We’re Not So Different pt.3

[part 1] [part 2]

Vance Hopper x fem!reader

all characters aged up, high school, see pinned for reasoning/explanation

DETAILS DETAILS DETAILS

playlist || master list

S L O W B U R N I N G

words: 2611

warnings: strong language, drug use(cigarettes) ooc vance, vance being vance, angst, subtle fluff, mentions of: (bruises, blood, fights, hitting), heartbreak

Autumn was hot on their heels, beat up pairs of docs pulled from the depths of a closet, the leaves slowly turning bright shades of red orange and yellow. Days where shorter and nights got colder.

y/n often found herself walking through the paths of the forest when the leaves started changing colours. Something about the way the wind felt, how the earth smelt, made her feel safe.

Mud built up around the soles of her boots, her hair slicked down dripping with the tears falling from the clouds.

Finney walked alongside y/n, he rambled on and on about something to do with school and his friends. Y/n’s mind wandered away from whatever it was he was speaking about.

She’d been doing that at lot recently. Often wondering how she’d gotten herself into her current situation. How she managed to keep it a secret from her friends that she was also friends with vance.

Most of them didn’t like him, y/n understood where they were coming from, he wasn’t exactly the most likeable person. Not if you didn’t know him at least. Then again, she didn’t really know him either.

Bits and piece of each other where shared, but never a full story, not a full conversation. She thought hard about it, where they really connected or did she tell herself that to justify how often he steeped through her mind.

Finney must have realized she wasn’t paying attention, lost in her own world snapping back she he shook her body. “Hello? Are you even listening?”

She hummed “of course i’m listening” Finn raised his brow “right, then what am i talking about?” y/n had no idea “helping Robin with math?” finney shook his head “no, not even close.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Lips chapped, she didn’t know if it was from the cold weather or the constant bite of anxiety. Vance hadn’t met her at the park in a while.

It wasn’t that she hadn’t checked for him, she was still at the park every night. it was lonely without him there. she hated it.

y/n sat on her bed picking the skin from her lip, remembering he had given her a note with his number on it in case she ever had an ‘emergency’, really just if she wasn’t going to be at the park one night.

quickly she sat up digging through the drawer on her nightstand going through ever note till she found it. it was late, really late, almost two in the morning.

sitting at her desk y/n hesitated with her hand hovering over the dial numbers on the phone. figuring the worst that could happen was nobody answering, so she called.

the phone rang three times before it was picked up, it was silent. y/n stuttered over her own breath, her voice was shaky and soft when she broke the silence. “Vance?” hearing a sigh from the other side her fingers found their way to her lip again.

“y/n?” his voice rang gently through the phone, she took a deep breath falling back into her chair “hi Vance…” he sighed “why are you calling so late?” she couldn’t decipher the tone in his voice. “where have you been?” hands trembling, itching at anything they could make contact with. he paused.

“i don’t know…” her brows pushed together “will you meet me tonight?” he paused again, sighing before he answered “meet me in ten” the line went dead.

y/n shook to the core as she got herself ready, palms sweating her heart raced. questioning what she had done, why he stopped coming, was he mad at her?

the questions and doubts in her mind never silenced.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

the air around them sat heavy, stilled. his energy filled the space, anxiety crept through y/n’s body. still she followed their usual routine.

silence felt heavy and unwelcoming, maybe it was a mistake to ask him to come. y/n watched him. vance didn’t look how he usually did, his face was hard, like anything would set him off in a split second.

“why’d you stop coming?” she spoke gently, trying not to say the wrong things. “i was busy, i couldn’t-i didn’t want to” his voice was cold glancing towards her.

y/n gulped back her emotions before they had a chance to show, nodding her head. “you could have told me”

“why would i do that?” she didn’t really have an answer, he didn’t need to tell her. “woulda been nice to know you weren’t coming” vance stood from his seat looking down at her “you’re so fucking needy sometimes”

she was taken back by his words “what the fuck does that mean?” her anxious stomach stopped swirling “are you an idiot? you’re so god fucking annoying” he didn’t mean that.

y/n raised from her seat, head still tilted to face him. “where’s that coming from? we don’t even fucking talk” confused, she couldn’t decide if she was mad at his words or sad something so comforting was slipping from her grip.

“are you listening? i don’t want to see you anymore, do understand y/n? i don’t like you” his last sentence hurt them both, he regretted saying that instantly. “fucking great, amazing actually. absolutely fucking perfect vance”

there it was again, the feeling in his gut when you said his name. “what the fuck are you going on about?” his jaw clenched faking his annoyance keeping his mask on.

without thinking, y/n’s lips moved faster then her conscience could keep up “i love you idiot” eyes widening once she realized what she’d just done.

vance felt his hands go clammy, his heart skipped beats. “yeah well, i don’t” he walked away taking a deep breath leaving her there, in their space, their memories. he hurt her and he knew it. what she didn’t know was how much it hurt him too.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

it wasn’t that vance didn’t feel strongly for the y/h/c girl, he did and god it drove him nuts. he hated it, he wanted her, to love her in any way he could. she was sat in the centre of his world.

watching what his parents called love is what scared him away from it, a father who couldn’t keep angered drunk hands to himself and a mother who did anything she could to keep herself safe.

that wasn’t storybook love in the slightest but it was the only example of it he’d ever known. he didn’t want y/n to fear him. he didn’t want to look down and see tears in her eyes when he got close to her, when he touched her.

the thought of love was cold to him. cold and wet and horrid.

vance wanted nothing more then to lace his fingers with y/ns. listen to her voice, the way she spoke about things always made him look at them differently.

y/n challenged him to see things from her perspective, not to hate things just because he can.

since she’d spoken of the rain that one night, he loved it, how it felt on his skin, the way it made the world smell.

she changed the way he viewed things, simple things. small things. she made him find sparks of joy in the little things around him. so maybe she could change how he viewed love.

the more he thought about it the more he realized she already had. he loved her the way she loved the rain, cherry tea, and poetry books.

she was poetic and sweet, she cared about his interests, she wrote notes that made his heart swell; she shined like the moon in his darkest hours.

he loved her hard.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

september faded away quickly, the ache in her bones stayed. y/n’s heart still hurt, she passed by the park every night hoping she’d see him there but she never did.

y/n picked up a job in the local café to help keep her mind busy, autumn was the busy season so she often had no chance to think of him.

she enjoyed it, seeing the happy faces when people got their drinks or special treats. the free drinks she got well working where a plus too.

they closed earlier on saturdays, so like any other saturday y/n put the chairs on the tables and cleaned the floors.

she noticed a small paper neatly folded placed under a dirty cup ‘y/n’ , she knew that handwriting well, slightly messy but smoothed together, that was vance.

her heart thumped in her chest, picking up the note her hands shook slowly unfolding the edges of her paper.

“meet me tomorrow, the creek by the train tracks, 12 -Vance”

questions filled her head once again, wondering what it was about, what he wanted. she was hurt, deeply at that.

she spent the night think about what she’d say, if she’d say anything. she needed an explanation or some kind of closer at that, she she’d go the next day.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

boots covered in mud once again walking through the paths she knew so well. the wind sung to her the closer she got to the creek, she wanted to turn back, leave him there but she couldn’t.

through the opening near the end of the path she saw him, his hair was messy. her feet carried her numbingly towards him.

this time it was him offering her a cigarette and a lighter, she took his offer. toxins steadied her mind, their silence felt calm again.

“do you care at all?” her words stung him “of course i care, why the fuck do you think we’re here?” he didn’t mean to come off so aggressive “you hurt me, vance.” her words flowed like a soft river stream, he missed her voice.

“i know” avoiding looking at her the best he could, he couldn’t face her. “i deserved better then that. you’re a fucking asshole, you know that? i spent my time with you, i let you into a special part of my life and you fucking ruined it like some sick joke” she was mad, frustrated. never did she feel something like this, her chest was warm as her throat choked back tears.

vance could hear them when she spoke, it broke him inside. he never cared so much about a person before, he ran before she had the chance to run from him, yet she was still there when he came back.

he took a deep breath preparing himself to finally face her. y/n played with the laces of her boot, quickly wiping away the hurt leaking from her eyes.

“i didn’t want to leave” she laughed “but you did, vance, you left without a word and then you fucking broke me” she was right, she was always fucking right.

he didn’t know how to say what he wanted to, how to explain why he did it. “you’re a fucking cunt” she spoke again moving to stand, vance grabbed her hand before she could.

“fuck y/n! give me a fucking minute, okay? i know i am, i fucking know that. you think i wanted to hurt you like that?” there it was, the ticking stopped in his mind “i left before you could leave me, it was going to be me or you and i wasn’t going to be the one left in the dark”

he knew that didn’t sound good, she knew what he meant. y/n had no intention on ever leaving him behind, understanding where he was coming from she took a moment to breath.

“vance i never had a thought about leaving you alone” her body turned to its knees facing the blond boy, she’d never seen so much emotion precent on his face before “i’d always come for you, it wouldn’t matter what time it was or where you are, if you needed me i’d be there.” her words sliced through him, he didn’t mean to lose her the way he did.

“i can’t keep doing this, vance. i can’t believe things will just go back to how they where before” they never would, she told him she loved him and he walked away. “please-please, just listen to me” his hands cupped one of hers.

“no one ever helped me, saw me the way you did. nobody stays, y/n. for the first time in years it felt like someone actually wanted to know me, that’s fucking weird, y/n. i’m not somebody you should want to be around.” his hands squeezed hers as he spoke, vance wasn’t good with his words, people know that; mostly since he just called them a motherfucker and beat the sins from them.

y/n listened closely to his words, “you’re not as bad as everyone says you are, vance. you have something beautiful inside you, you just can’t see that” she shook her head examining the way he sat before her.

vance wasn’t expecting her words, “but you broke the trust i gave you” his heart sunk, maybe he really did loose her.

“however trust can be gained again” emotions washed over him, he hated it, he didn’t understand it. “i’m not going anywhere, vance, you can close your eyes and i promise i’d still be here when you opened them again” he believed her. everything she ever said to him he believed.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Even though they had talked for hours at the tracks not long ago, neither of the two tried to communicate again.

It wasn’t that they didn’t want to, all y/n wanted to do was talk about the funny drinks she had to make everyday and vance…vance could never even think of what he’d say to her if a conversation even so happened to spark up.

Like usual the two ignored eachother all day everyday, but once the moon came out they’d be found in their usual spots on the swing’s smoking alongside eachother.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

This particular night seemed to be different from the moment y/n sat near the curly headed blond boy. His eyes lingered upon her body longer then usual. Was it the pants she had on? No, no it couldn’t be they’re just pj pants.

Her head spun trying to figure out why he was so focused on her, his mind mumbled about how pretty she looks when her hair was a mess.

y/n pulled out her camels flipping them open to reveal an empty pack, a pout rested into her lips.

He pulled out his own taking the last one from his own, taking the lighter out of her pack sparking up his dart.

Her eyes lingered over watching him, vance took a couple drags placing the dart upon her lips when he was satisfied. y/n shyly accepted his action taking her own hits before passing it back.

Y/n’s hand shook slightly as she passed it, something that didn’t go unnoticed. Vance took the dart back, taking a moment before slipping his jacket off handing it to the y/h/c girl.

Shocked at his actions but grateful y/n placed it over her shoulders. The scent that typically lingered around her space now overpowered her other senses, it was sweet and warm yet musky and stale with smoke.

He was trying his best to show that he cared, it was like trying to speak a language you've never heard before.

She knew he was trying, his actions spoke for him.

in these moments either had the courage to look each other in the eyes, something seemingly so routine to their lives felt much different that night.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

A/N: DONT HATE ME FOR HOW LONG IT TOOK TO GET THIS OUT

tag list: @scarlets-phases @sheer-nuisance @tyelikesbees @marialikescherries @stephs-inluv @okedai-san @urgworl @tw-inkl-e-tit-s @lotionlamp @alex110370000 @sieieoeu @yesiamshe-74 @kinnievan @kikookii @imma-haunt-u

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hufflepuffsandghosts · 10 months

Text

The Costume Contest

Plot: Garcia has made plans to host a Halloween party at the BYU office after a stressful mission. Little do you know that you and your best friend have the same plans in an unexpected way. (Friends to Lovers, Fluff)

TW: slight mention of alcohol

The streets of Quantico buzzed with excitement as Halloween approached. Agent Spencer Reid couldn't help but feel the festive atmosphere of the crisp cold air and the smell of stale leaves. He normally found himself buried in case after case at this time of year, however, his good friend Garcia and Y/N had managed to convince him to attend a Halloween party at the office after a case. “And remember..” Garcia said, sternly, “…you HAVE to wear the costumes that will be provided by either myself or Morgan.” She gave a wink to the both of them, Their faces blush with anticipation as to what they might be.

As Halloween night arrived, Spencer found himself in front of BYU, nervously adjusting the costume that Morgan had him put on and making sure not to ruin any of the makeup Garcia did. Morgan chose Victor Van Dort, from Y/N’s favorite movie “The Corpse Bride”. They watched it together almost every Halloween, it was almost tradtion at this point. But surely a change might be good for both of them, especially after the case the crew just worked on. A typical serial killer basing her kills off of Michael Myers. Which took hours of work on all fronts in order to bring justice to the lives that were lost. As Spencer glides into the building he sees the big gathering in the office and stops. Time seems to slow down at the sight of Y/N, Her makeup done to resemble a blue corpse, with stunning Fx’s and a torn-up white bridal gown, dirtied with mud and coffee stains to make it seem older. She was Emily, his Emily. As the rest of the team look they are greeted with admiration and applause for their perfectly coordinated costume.

Y/N smiles, walks up to him, and holds out her hand. “Looks like we make a great pair, don't we?”

Spencer Chukled nervously, “I guess we do.”

The night was filled with laughter and joy. They danced, played games, and enjoyed each other's company like they always have done. They were, as always, in perfect sync, easily understanding each other in games and humor.

At one point, Y/N excused herself to get some drinks for the two of them, leaving Spence to talk to their other colleagues. As she walked to the bar she overheard two other people dressed as Barbie and Ken.

“My money’s on them becoming a real couple by the end of the night.”

Y/N blushed. There’s no way Spence would reciprocate her feelings right? What they had was something special, sure, but there was no way that she would want to ruin their relationship.

When she returned to Spencer’s side, she noticed he was engrossed in a conversation with another agent and dear friend, Derek Morgan. Spencer appeared somewhat distracted, but as soon as he saw Y/N, his eyes lit up.

‘Hey, you,” he said, smiling.

“Hey,” She replied, trying to ignore the flutter in her stomach caused by his smile.

Eventually, the party’s host announced a couple's costume contest. Spencer and Y/N exchanged amused glances. They hadn’t really planned for this, but now they were unexpectedly part of the contest.

Y/N started to fidget a little, and with Spence noticing he leaned and whispered. “We don't have to do this if you don't want too, sugar.” Y/N looked up and blushed, noticing how close they were to each other faces, She smiled softly. “Why not? Could be fun.” He nodded, both their hearts fluttering with anticipation.

They stepped onto the makeshift stage, and the crowd cheered for them, standing together, shoulder to shoulder, hand grazing each other until Spencer held Y/N’s hand gently. When it was their turn to present themselves, Spencer couldn't help but get caught up in the moment.

“Hello, everyone. Sorry about this but I would like to make a small speech.” he paused, looking at Y/N before looking back out to the crowd. “Tonight, we honor the spirits of the past and I could of think of a better partner to do that than with Y/N,” he said, his voice sincere and filled with kindness.

Y/N eyes widened and her heart skipped a beat. She kept our composure and added, “We may not have planned this, but sometimes life surprises you with the best of partnerships.”

The crowd erupted into applause, and Spencer and Y/N won the contest hands down. They were awarded a cute trophy, which they shared as they posed for pictures together.

As the night wore on, everyone ended up sharing ghost stories and Spencer, in his natural enthusiasm, explained some historical context behind the tales, captivating everyone in the room. After the party ended and they all said their goodbyes, Spencer walked Y/N back home to her apartment. Hand in hand, still basking in the glory of the evening. Underneath the full moon, they shared a few lingering glances and smiles that spoke volumes. When they both arrived at the doorstep, Spencer hesitated for a moment before speaking. “You know Y/N…I didn't realize how much I truly enjoyed your company, and just how special you are to me,”, he admitted, cheeks flushing.

Y/N nodded, her heart now pounding. “Spence, you are so incredibly special to me too. More than you know-”

Before Y/N could finish her sentence Spencer leaned in, their lips meeting in a tender kiss. It was a sweet, tender moment. Y/N pulled back a bit, smiled, and asked “Do you want to come in? Watch some corpse bride with me?”

Spencer grinned, “of course, I would love that.”

All content © hufflepuffsandghosts 2023. Do not repost, modify, or claim my work as your own.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid/reader #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x y/n #x reader #fluff fic #SFW fic #ghost.fic #tw.alcohol

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kaizoku-gary · 2 years

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Apples & Horses

Pairing: Bon Clay x gender-neutral reader

Genre: platonic fluff

Word count: 1810

Warnings/Tags: fluff, friendship, platonic soulmates

Summary: Bentham and you haven't seen each other in years. He's a busy criminal, and you happen to live on opposite sides of the world. When he is finally able to drop by, you both are reminded of the strong bond you share.

A/N: requested by vivian-von-truce

Sorry that it took me so long. I hope you like it 😊

Read it on AO3

Cover by: Mygiorni

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With mud on your boots and a smile on your face, you return home. Your clothes are messy, and the wind hasn't done your hair any favors, but your soul feels free and light. You go to the bathroom, turn on the bathtub faucet and let the water run as you prepare to take a long, reinvigorating bath after spending most of the day taking care of your horse. The job is far from easy, but you are so passionate about it that you don't pay much attention to such trifles. You step into the water and feel its warmth slowly flooding your body. Leaning your back against the tub, you close your eyes, immersing yourself in a pleasant moment.

Purupurupuru. The sound comes like an echo coming from the depths of your mind, and you try to ignore it, believing it is just a product of your imagination. Purupurupuru. There it is again, louder and more distinct this time. You open your eyes, internally cursing at whoever is interrupting your peace. When you see the red lips and green makeup under your den-den mushi's eyes, your heart skips a beat. You jump out of the tub as fast as you can -being careful not to slip and break your head- and run to answer the call.

"Bentham!" you exclaim as you pick up the handset. The tone of your voice doesn't hide the excitement of getting a call from someone so important to you.

"Y/N!~ It's been a long time, huh?" The voice on the other end of the line is no less happy than yours, and a big smirk graces your face.

"Say, honey. Are you going to be home tomorrow?" They say before you storm them with questions.

Their words catch you off guard, and you have to sit. Is he planning to visit you? Just thinking of seeing them again after so many years almost makes you jump with joy, but you wait for them to confirm it before celebrating.

"Wha- Uh- Yes. Why?" you reply, blinking quickly and trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach.

"See you tomorrow, then!~" That's the last thing you hear before the characteristic gatcha, indicating that the call is over.

Staring at the floor, you try to process what happened. If you had won the lottery, you would certainly feel less excited and -at the same time- nervous. After that conversation - if that brief exchange of words can be called that - returning to your daily life without getting lost in nostalgic memories is almost impossible.

A gentle draft from the open window in your room reminds you of your nakedness, and you grab a towel from the cupboard to dry the drops of water on your skin that still refuse to evaporate. The night will be long, and you take a deep breath to calm down. It's been ten years since you last saw your best friend, and now all you can think about is running to them and hugging them so tight that it makes up for all the time you've been apart.

*****

With a gasp, you open your eyes wide. The sunlight coming through the window blind you for a moment, and you cover your face with your hand as the fog of sleep fades away. Fearing you've overslept, you jump out of bed with your heart racing, smiling in relief when you notice it's still early. Bentham should have told you when exactly they were planning to come by. It would have lessened the anxiety.

After taking a shower, you stand in front of the closet with your towel wrapped around your body. Crossing your arms over your chest, you concentrate on imagining the perfect outfit, smiling to yourself at the fact that if you had a date, it would have taken you much less time to find the perfect combination of clothes. Several moments - which may or may not have been more than an hour - later, you pose in front of the mirror with your chest heaving and a triumphant smile.

Your internal caffeine meter reminds you that you still haven't had a cup of that bitter-tasting and smoky-smelling liquid that makes your every cell overflow with energy. With only one thought in mind, you walk to the kitchen, fill the coffee machine container with water, grind the dark brown beans to a fine aromatic powder, and fetch your favorite cup while the device prepares your elixir of life. The shrill ringing of the doorbell almost makes you drop the empty cup. In the blink of an eye, you are opening the door to your house.

The words choke in your mouth, and your eyes fill with tears as you jump into your friend's arms, to give them a bone-crushing hug. Neither of you speaks for a long moment. Only soft sobs can be heard as you both refuse to let go of the other.

"I've missed you so much," you hoarse, stepping back to get a better look at them. You could swear they are much taller than the last time you saw them.

"I've missed you more," Bon-chan answers in a trembling voice as they wipe the tears from their face; before pressing you against their chest once more.

"You want some coffee?" you offer, stepping to the side and beckoning them into your house.

******

Hours go by between cups of coffee and desserts, between laughter and stories. Sitting on the fluffy carpet in your living room and with a cheering playlist of your favorite childhood songs in the background, you both try to compact the events of the last ten years into short stories, taking the time to answer each other's curious questions. A warm feeling takes over both of you as you realize that despite the time that has passed and how much you have changed physically and mentally, your bond is so strong that even distance can't break it.

With nostalgia, you remember your childhood together, the nights dancing until your feet ached and your legs cramped. Or when the other boys in town tried to tease you for being "weird" only to get their asses kicked by Bentham, who has always got a talent for turning his body into a weapon.

"Wanna see my horse?" you ask once you get your breath back after telling a funny story. You have no doubt they could perform to perfection a couple of acrobatics aid with that natural grace and elegance they have always possessed.

"Sure!" They reply, jumping to their feet and offering you their hand.

The two of you leave the house and walk hand in hand to the barn. It would be so nice to stop time or at least make everything stay like this forever, you and your best friend having fun together again like you used to do so long ago. But you know that nothing ever quite works out how you want it to, and you decide to make the most of this short visit. Although you fear that now that Bon-chan is one of the most influential and powerful members of Baroque Works, visits and calls will be even more sporadic.

Finally, you see her, your majestic black and white horse, waiting for you in the comfortable space you built for her, sheltered from the weather.

"Oh! What do we have here?" Bentham says, squeezing your hand as you both walk closer to her. "She's gorgeous! What's her name?"

"Shady Lady," you reply, trying to keep the pride of having trained such a beautiful, healthy animal from going to your head. "Come on, girl! It's time for a little show," you say, pulling her out of the stall. "Let me show you what we can do," you turn to wink at your friend, and they wiggle in excitement before strutting over to a bench.

"I'm ready whenever you are~," Your friend says, almost bouncing with excitement while you mount your horse.

As soon as you climb up, you enter some form of trance. Your movements have the fluidity and precision that only years of practice can give, immediately capturing your friend's attention. Bentham watches your every move closely, holding their breath when you attempt a dangerous stunt and applauding merrily when you execute it without making a mistake.

"So that's what you've been doing all this time!" they joke, but you know they're proud of you. "Hats off to you. You're wonderful Y/N," they say, blowing you a kiss and offering you a wide smile.

"Thank you, Bon-chan," You reply, unable to stop your cheek from turning red. "Would you like an apple?"

Your question confuses them, but they still nod. A few yards to the right of Bon Clay stands a huge apple tree, the crimson color of its fruits forming a beautiful contrast to the deep green of its leaves. You steer your horse towards it, then stand on her back to reach a high branch where the best and juiciest apples hang. You cling to it with one hand while the other grasps the red fruit, pulling it until its thin stem breaks. The triumphant smile on your face fades as soon as it shows up. Shady Lady has other plans and leaves before you can sit back on the saddle.

Bon Clay rushes to your aid, putting their arms around your legs just before the branch breaks.

"Now, that was a nice trick!" They joke, bursting out laughing despite the not-so-amused look on your face.

"Shut up," you snort, playfully elbowing their side as soon as he puts you down.

"Why don't we have some apples... From the lower branches, of course," he jokes. "And bake one of my famous pies that you liked so much," his eyes light up with the memory of old times, and you can't refuse.

Carefully, you climb onto their shoulders and begin plucking a few apples, dropping them on the ground around you. "You're not going to walk away and leave me hanging here, are you?". You joke, reaching out to grab a specially large fruit.

Your joke makes Bentham remember the look on your face when your horse decided she had better things to do. Unable to help themselves, they let out a loud laugh that forces them to their knees while you struggle not to fall. Their laugh is infectious, and you join them, losing your balance and causing you both to end up on the ground.

And there, rolling on the grass with tears in your eyes and a sore abdomen, you feel like children again. Maybe you won't see each other for another ten years. Maybe even longer. But for such a strong bond, distance and time are not a threat. You both know that no matter how far away you are, what binds you together will never disappear.

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#bon clay x reader #bentham x reader #gender neutral reader #bon clay #mr 2 bon clay #one piece #one piece fanfic #one piece x reader #no beta read

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justsome-di · 1 year

Text

Nobody Ends Up Dead in a Bathtub, Everyone Keeps Their Organs: Chapter 2

Chapter one can be read here.

If you are interested in reading chapters early and bonus material, you can pledge to my Patreon here.

Leo was leaning into the hallway from the couch, his body halfway hanging off to look around the corner. The overhead light reflected off his large eyes and the living room was dark behind him, making him look like a deer standing in the glare of headlights.

Damián locked the door behind him and stuck his boots by the door. He laid them between his other pairs (he could not be blamed for owning so many shoes) and Leo’s one pair of high-top Converse which had seen better days. The black canvas had begun to fade. The laces were stained. The rubber along the soles were rubbed down unevenly and were smudged with little parts of the city. Grass, mud, Damián was sure he saw dried cement. Maybe Damián would buy him new shoes for Christmas if Leo was willing to part with them. Something more appropriate for cold weather.

“I was getting worried,” Leo said.

“I’m sorry. I lost track of time.”

“Did everything go okay?”

“Yeah! It was all fine.” Damián walked down their short hallway. Leo already had a documentary pulled up on the TV and popcorn sitting on the beaten-up coffee table. “Aw, you got everything ready.”

“The popcorn might be a little soggy.”

“That’s fine. Just let me change real quick.”

Leo fell back into the sofa and watched Damián cross the apartment to his bedroom.

Damián pulled off his outfit, breathing well again outside of his tight jeans, and gently laid it all in the hamper. He rubbed the indents from his waistband on his stomach, examining them in his mirror. The side seam had imprinted itself onto his right thigh. While it wasn’t unusual for his work clothes to be so tight that they left little marks on his body, he preferred them not leave almost-painful divets in him.

Deep down, from his years of psychology classes, he knew that his perception of himself in the mirror couldn’t be trusted. Still, tightening jeans didn’t lie. He had gained a little weight.

Another thing to start worrying about.

Fuck.

He didn’t have the space in his head to worry about his weight. He already had too many things swimming around up there. There was Leo, new clients, one new client in particular. There wasn’t enough room, but in just a few minutes, his weight had again made itself at home in his head. It weighed heavily on his chest and knotted his stomach up, pushing his other problems to the side.

It had been so long since he had felt that specific anxiety. But it was so familiar that it felt like an old friend, settling back into his life. After being apart for so long, Damián couldn’t turn it away. Not when they knew each other so well.

Damián would start cutting back on all the take out meals he had with Leo. He had to find some balance between that and the recent spike in fancy dinners with the extra clients he had picked up. Dieting was always a slippery slope—no. He could make it healthy this time. It wouldn’t be like his last attempt at dieting where he passed out in the apartment’s gym and woke up to his neighbor standing over him.

It wouldn’t even be a diet. It’s just be mindful eating. Moderation. He had learned his lesson.

He pulled on his sweatpants and a SUNY t-shirt he had bought when Leo was accepted four years ago. He looked at himself in the mirror again. With baggy clothes, he looked slightly slimmer. It hid the little bit of developing pudge.

“Was everything really okay?” Leo asked.

“Yeah.” Damián flopped onto the couch next to him. He crossed his arms over his stomach. “It was different.”

“Different in a good way?”

“In a good way.” Damián gestured to the TV. “You can start it.”

Leo pressed play on the remote and pulled the popcorn onto the couch between them. Damián took a handful, found one butter-less piece and dumped the rest back into the bowl.

The beginning credits started. Flashes of mug shots went past the screen. They blurred together until the screen went grey and the title appeared. Last Words of Killers.

“What is this?” Damián asked.

He sunk down into the couch. It wasn’t very comfortable. He felt awful for making Leo sleep on the mattress tucked away inside it every night. But there was no room for another bed, and there was no money for a two-bedroom apartment.

“It was on your list,” Leo said. “It’s something about interviewing murderers about who they killed.”

“Oof. Morbid.”

“I just said it was literally on your list.”

Damián tucked himself further into the flat cushions and pulled a throw blanket off the back of the couch. A boring appointment, and he was still tired the second he sat down.

Boring wasn’t the right word. It had been eventful and emotional and, actually, exhausting.

Alex hadn’t been boring. Sexless appointments weren’t boring. In fact, he had had a pretty good time. It felt like less like an average appointment and more like he had had a night out.

And it hadn’t been that bad for business. Damián had walked away with a potential reoccurring client and a potential interesting scheme. He wouldn’t yet assume Alex was going to follow through with his idea. There was always a chance he’d get a message from Alex tomorrow morning saying he wanted to forget the whole thing.

Damián wouldn’t blame him if that happened. He could make the money with other people.

It would be a shame, though, if he didn’t get to see Alex again. Alex was quite handsome. He had a round face that Damián was fond of, and such honest, kind eyes. Damián couldn’t remember the last time he had met someone who was so visibly earnest, who made such an effort with their whole being to be nice.

Leo scooped up a messy handful of popcorn. He looked tired. His doe-eyes were droopy. He was looking a little pale. He was working so hard.

Damián bumped his cheek with his knuckle. Leo tilted his head away and kept it crooked to the side until Damián lowered his hand. Once, Leo had allowed Damián’s touches. When they were both younger. He had let Damián kiss him and cuddle him and carry him around on his back.

When they were much younger, Damián had been an altar bot. He took it somewhat seriously. Proud, his parents always sat in the very front. One morning Leo had slid off the pew and toddled up to him.

Everyone had laughed and cooed when Leo grabbed onto his robes, demanding to be picked up. Damián took his hand and led him back to their parents. It took all of their mortified mother’s strength to hold Leo down next to her.

“Did you get anywhere with your applications?” Damián asked.

“Yeah. I don’t wanna talk about it, though. I’m sick of thinking about them.”

A journalist talked on TV. She was all done up with pageant hair and make-up. She stood in a dim office and delivered her lines awkwardly almost as if she wasn’t quite sure if she could remember what she was supposed to say next. She over-enunciated everything and spoke so stiff. Wannabe actor, probably. A shitty Netflix show was the only gig she could land. It was mean to think it, but Damián couldn’t help himself.

“If you have any more application fees, let me know,” Damián said.

“You don’t have to pay for them. It’s not that much.”

So quick to refuse Damián’s help. Damián tried to not feel hurt.

“She’s not even interviewing them,” Leo said. “I thought she’d talk to them. This is just a bad WatchMojo video.”

The woman wasn’t on screen anymore. An old interview of Charles Manson was rolling. The footage was dull and fuzzy. Manson’s hair was long and greasy and stringy. His eyes were nothing but shadows, and occasionally the camera zoomed in and caught a sparkle in his black eyes.

Damián grimaced at how he spoke. There was so much confidence and anger in his voice. He moved around erratically, turning his head in every direction to check up on the people around him.

“We can change it,” Damián said. He tilted his head back. “We can just watch another episode of Making A Murderer. Or anything else you want to watch.”

Leo closed out of the show. He said something about a series a guy in his classes told him about. It was fiction, which he knew Damián didn’t prefer. But it was supposed to have a whole cult following growing among true crime fans. He couldn’t remember the title, but he’d recognize it when he saw it.

Damián closed his eyes. The remote clicked as Leo scrolled through their infinite crime options. He knew what all of the title cards looked like. Mugshots and crime scene photos. Smiling pictures of victims with their eyes scratched out.

He thought about himself and how lucky he had gotten that night. Alex could have been a different person, a more violent person. Not-Alex could have flipped, could have hit him, called the police. Could have done anything to him.

Damián didn’t let his mind wander too far with that. Nothing had happened. It would do no good to make up scenarios. He was lucky he had met the little awkward man in the restaurant, and he was going to leave it at that.

Actually, he wasn’t going to leave it at that.

Damián was lucky that nothing severe had happened to him at all in the 10 years he had been working. He prided himself on his selection of clients. His regulars treated him well and paid him better. New ones were always—usually—so carefully questioned that Damián hardly ever came across anyone in-person who was questionable.

Alex had been a surprising delight, but Damián would need to work out the kinks. He couldn’t believe some office workers got past his system that was almost flawless for 10 years.

Maybe people were getting worse or maybe Damián was getting lazy. Whatever it was, he was going to try not to stress over it too much.

“Leo?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

There were a few seconds of silence. Then, a stilted, quiet, “I love you, too.”

Damián still smiled even though Leo sounded like he almost didn’t want to return the affection. It was okay because he knew Leo meant it. Despite the distance growing between them, Damián knew Leo still loved him only because he still lived with him and still sat through bad Netflix shows with him.

Leo had his own ways of showing love, and Damián was just going to have to cope with it. Like having a cat that only showed affection by sitting in the same room, far away in its own corner.

Damián could hear another show’s intro. He would open his eyes in a second. He would watch the show with Leo for a little bit and then crawl off to bed, letting Leo have his sofa bed back to himself.

Just one more second.

One more second.

#nobody ends up dead #Nobody Ends Up Dead in a Bathtub Everyone Keeps Their Organs #writeblr #writblr #writing #queer #lgbt

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greatandquestionablecontent · 10 months

Text

4 -- in which Delta's body remembers Jade

In the Mirror I Saw Who You Could Have Been

previous masterpost/summary brief magic torture, mostly the torture of an awkward conversation where you don't know what to say. also that feeling when you discover you have a girlfriend you don't remember at all.

~~~~

Draining the second prisoner was even easier than the first. It came as naturally as drinking, taking cautious sips at first, and then gulps, and then chugging and chugging and ignoring the gasps and screams.

And like downing a jug of water without pause, Delta found they’d forgotten to breathe, and they panted through a freshly healed throat. A laugh bubbled out, without their meaning it to. They felt more alive than ever, envigorated, thrilled.

It was short work directing all that new energy towards healing the last of their wounds, and then they were up to examine the tent, adjust their uniform, and step out into the bleak foggy daylight.

About a half dozen other red, round yurts formed a semicircle around a lone hand-draw well. A bit farther off, as if added as an afterthought, were a few more in varying shapes and sizes, down to what probably served only to house a vault toilet. Up the muddy hill, Delta could see a sea of other, more modest colors – the rest of the camp.

A pair of dressed-down youths passing between tents caught sight of Delta, exchanged a couple of words, and hastily altered their course, shifting to a clipped march. Delta simply watched as they stepped onto the wooden pallet that served as a doorstep, most likely announcing Delta’s less-than-miraculous return to life. Off they went back to their own large tent – barracks, perhaps?

And out came Archel Constance.

Some part of Delta remembered her. It only made sense, but each time they saw her, it came to mind again. They found themself erecting mental walls they didn’t yet fully understand, drawing their magic in tight, checking their expression gave away nothing.

“You took your time,” she remarked dryly as she approached.

“My meridians got damaged, ma’am,” they replied, since that had been her suggested explanation and it sounded as good as any. They tried to make their tone the right mix of apologetic but self assured.

And then they thought, perhaps that was erring too much on the side of formality. Were they the same rank as Constance? They decided to drop the ma’am, but then every sentence after that, wondered if that was the right choice. She certainly acted like she was in charge.

Out of that crimson battle coat, she now wore all black, a leather jacket almost armor-like in its style, tall boots bizarrely mud-free, her hair neatly and perfectly rebraided. This, Delta felt, was how she ought to look. Though she was a good bit shorter than them, their extra height abruptly seemed like a vulnerability rather than an asset; an animal on its hind legs, belly exposed to something more dangerous. They took a step back, then caught themself, wondering if that was too obvious a sign of weakness.

The rest of the conversation was similarly mentally taxing, between analyzing every twitch of their own body language, reciting lies and fabricating new ones on the spot, and trying to read this woman. She spoke the way you might imagine a hardened military leader would – clipped, to the point, nearly toneless, almost a parody in perfection. Though she was surely magically capable of smoothing away the age lines by her mouth, they suited her, a physical medallion that she had never once smiled in however many years she’d worn this face.

She demanded again where they’d been for so long, and Delta knew she must be aware of the changes.

“I got lost in the mountains, and without anyone to feed on, I couldn’t heal myself when I got injured.”

“In what way were you injured? Did you not have a compass on you?”

As Delta carefully re-told the story Andromeda had crafted for them, Constance’s eyes narrowed, but she showed no other signs of belief or disbelief. She asked altogether too many questions, and all Delta could think was that any moment now, they would fail her test and this all would have been for naught.

“Trinity and Constance are the ones you need to be most careful of,” Andromeda had warned them, more than once. “And Constance trained your previous self, so she’ll notice any discrepancies.”

That much was obvious. What discrepancies they were, and what Constance thought of them, Delta hadn’t the faintest clue.

“From what I know, it’s a severe breach of N’Vitri etiquette for her to read your mind or attempt to interfere with your magic in any way, so she shouldn’t be able to know exactly what happened from the surface … You understand how essential it is you don’t allow her to go poking around inside your brain. As you’re no longer her apprentice, you should be entitled to a certain amount of your own privacy. Remember that, and don’t be afraid to use silence.”

The previous Delta had, apparently, been “quiet.”

“Why did you vanish from Trinity’s detection?”

“I honestly don’t know.”

It was almost a relief when two more women arrived to interrupt the impromptu interrogation. One was tall, dark, and muscular, with long black hair in a thick braid, wearing a simple white shirt, sturdy pants, and boots much like Constance’s. The other was short, pale, freckled, with short, tousled copper hair, dressed in a lacy layered skirt and a floral sleeveless top quite incongruous with the military camp, even for plainclothes attire.

The short one ran, canvas shoes slapping in the mud, and the tall one kept up with her in easy long strides.

“Would you look at that,” the tall woman drawled.

The short one stopped abruptly in front of Delta, like a horse whose reins had been yanked.

“You’re back,” she said, her voice small but ringing with barely contained emotion. Across the space between them, Delta could easily pick up her energy churning inside her body.

Delta nodded, and then, when that seemed insufficient, they offered, “I’ve been healing for a couple of days.”

“Which brings up more questions,” Constance added. “Which meridians were damaged?”

“I don’t know. I wasn’t conscious.”

The red-haired woman just stared, her eyes burning holes in Delta.

Her presence made them uncomfortable; every time their eyes met hers, they got a little jolt of adrenaline, and the longer she stared, the more Delta felt like she might set them on fire, slowly adding heat to their skin.

Every slight movement she made snapped their attention back to her, and she was constantly moving, fidgeting with the lace at the edge of her skirt, shifting from foot to foot, examining the mud on her canvas shoes, brushing a lock of hair from her face, itching at the ill-fitting red Archel jacket she wore over her flowery civilian clothes. Every hair on her pale legs stood at end in the biting cold, and her cheeks were flushed pink. She didn’t look like she belonged here, or in that jacket, but Delta found themself almost as afraid of her as they were of Constance.

Perhaps more?

She couldn’t be a N’Vitri, it made no sense, it didn’t feel correct, but the Archel jacket suggested she might be some other kind of mage, unless she was for some reason wearing part of someone else’s uniform. She had to have some kind of psychic power, Delta was sure of it, though she was hardly visually imposing. Everything about her energy felt different than any of the other mortals they’d met so far.

Constance noticed their distraction, of course. “You’re welcome,” she said pointedly.

For what? “Right, uh, thanks,” they said.

She scowled and scoffed, the most emotion she’d shown the entire conversation, and with that, turned sharply and set off at a brisk pace back to her own tent. The tall woman followed her immediately, falling into step at her heels like a well-trained dog, giving Delta only a backward glance.

Leaving Delta with just the red-haired girl. For a moment they almost wished Constance would stay. They’d at least been starting to get the hang of how to converse with her, at least, they thought they’d been doing alright, though they were running out of answers.

The girl bolted at them. Delta’s instinct kicked in, they tensed and took a step back, but stopped themself in time from shoving her away as she slammed her body against theirs. Her arms locked tight around them and she squeezed, hard, pressing her face into their chest, which surely smelt of blood and guts.

“You’re back. I was starting to think –-- fuck!”

She stretched up and pressed her lips to theirs, gripping their long-sleeved undershirt for leverage. Delta grappled with the instinct to shove this stranger away, but her mouth on theirs, her body against theirs, her breath warm on their face… Their entire body was alert to her. They were desperate to kiss her back, to tear at her clothes and pull her closer. Almost as much as they’d hungered to kill those men, they hungered for her, her specifically, the explosion of colors inside her and her soft freckled flesh and…

The result of this turmoil was mainly that they did nothing. They let her kiss them, they caught themself and remembered to act, and halfheartedly tried to kiss back, but it was too late. She dropped back to her heels, relinquishing her grip on their shirt, but still close enough they could smell her and feel the warmth radiating from her… if that was even a real sensation.

“I actually really worried, you were gone for so fucking long. Are you okay? I mean, I know you’re obviously not dying at the moment but –- we should get back to our tent, so we can talk in private, huh? Delta?”

So, not a succubus or hostile mage. The idea of a lover was frankly more alarming and confusing by far. They hadn’t prepared for this possibility at all. It would make keeping their act up all the more difficult, beyond simply playing the part of a N’Vitri in battle and a withdrawn loner in conversations with Constance.

She barely gave them a moment to process her presence, let alone give some kind of response. She grabbed them by the hand, faltered, and dropped their hand, hesitating and taking another step back, looking at them with the exact expression of someone who knows when something isn’t right.

“Yeah, let’s go to the tent,” they agreed. “Sorry, I’m a bit out of it. My meridians…”

Her expression melted to one of sympathy and pity, and she looped her arm in theirs and led them back to “their” tent, next door to Constance’s, and indistinguishable on the outside from any of the other red yurts.

Their tent had two beds, but one was large, made up with layers of messy blankets, obviously slept in and then leapt out of. The smaller cot had no sheets or blankets and was piled with the contents of a couple bags, more clothes in varying combinations of floral and lace and pastels, and a few spare weapons and camping supplies.

“I’ve been sleeping on the floor by Denna’s cot half the time,” the girl admitted. “In case anything happens. Constance has been – well, it’s been miserable, and she’s infuriating, but she’s been… I can’t say nice, but she really takes it seriously, the whole protecting me and not infringing on your property idea. I think she’s pissed you didn’t thank her properly for that.”

When they didn’t respond in the split second she gave them, she continued, “Maren hasn’t given me any trouble, actually I was hanging out with her and Ashrie for a bit, but we can talk about that later – but some of the soldiers have been creeps, and I think they don’t think you’re coming back – not that I’m scared to sleep alone, I just got lonely, and bored. This place sucks when you’re not around.”

“I bet it does,” they agreed, following her cue and taking their boots off at the door, taking their time unlacing the muddy strings and pretending to be focused on that task. “I’m sorry,” they added.

“It’s okay,” she said, with just enough hesitation that Delta knew it wasn’t okay at all. She sat crosslegged on the shared bed, rubbing at her goosebumped bare legs, scratching off some caked mud flecks.

“Why were you gone so long?” She asked. “What’d you tell Constance, and what’s the real reason?”

“I told her the truth.” And they repeated the story again for her, this time including all the details Constance had pressed for, about the compass and how they fractured their skull and which leg got broken and the made-up cabin in the hills where they’d finally found people to feed from again.

She was an active listener, emoting at every detail, finding even more questions to ask. When their story ended and they faded into silence, they were distinctly aware she was unsatisfied with that silence. They washed up in the basin on the table to avoid having to sit next to her on the bed, or admit they didn’t know if this place had bath tubs. The water quickly turned brown from all the grime and crusted blood.

“I bet it was a drag coming back and having to go straight to a battle,” she tried.

They gave her a little laugh. “It was.”

“And… you took longer than usual,” she prompted. “To heal.”

“Does everyone know that?”

“Yeah, probably. I’ve been waiting, of course, and they wouldn’t let me in to see you. Denna told me you got back, though, and who knows who she and Larsen will tell, but I bet a few soldiers will gossip too, and Constance’s gonna tell Trinity everything, so… yeah everybody. What happened?”

“My meridians got damaged.”

“Ahuh… and?”

They shrugged. “I’m not sure exactly what happened. I went down so fast.”

“Are you still recovering? Do you need… anything?”

“I’m fine. Just…” Another shrug. “Getting back on my feet. I’m sorry, I’m sure I’ll be back to normal soon.”

“That’s okay,” she said, clearly relieved.

Brief silence. They hoped that her chattiness might turn out in their favor, allowing them to mostly listen, and hopefully pick up more useful information.

They did as much as they could with just the basin, before accepting that anything more would just be putting the dirty water back on their skin. As they toweled dry and turned to face her, the girl crossed the tent, slowing as she closed the gap between them, as if to give them a chance to move away. When they didn't, she slung her arms around their waist. This time they kissed her first, a choice which was rewarded with a little dip in her energy, like she was finally satisfied and some of her anxiety put at ease.

They couldn’t remember kissing before, but it came easily enough. Her lips were cold but her tongue warm, and they followed her lead from gentle and cautious to deep and passionate. She sucked their tongue into her mouth and let out a quiet little moan, and despite all their hesitations and doubts, their arousal sparked.

“I love you,” she mumbled against their lips.

“Love you too,” they mumbled back, because that was how the dialogue ought to go.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “About… Before.”

“It’s fine,” they told her. “Let’s forget all about it.”

#in the mirror i saw who you could have been #jade #delta #constance #andromeda #(mentioned)#they still dont even know her name #no beta we die like n'vitri

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nine-blessed-hero · 8 months

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I picked my battlemage orc, Gonna-Kick ur Ass's game back up on Saturday (the Gent had a prior commitment and the weather was too nasty to do anything outside).

Having him be amnesiac is great because I cannot remember wtf I was doing the last time I launched his game. He was sat at the Chorral Fighter's Guild table for breakfast (I've been roleplaying a bit more in this game, so actually eating food items for three main meals, sleeping at night etc), and speaking to Oreyn revealed Kicks had to pick between going to Cheydinhal or Anvil for further contracts.

As an orc, Kicks would feel more comfortable in Cheydinhal (and also I fancied doing the Corruption and Conscience quest) so I headed towards the main gate. On the way out Kicks was distracted by a man seeming distressed running into the Grey Mare, so went to investigate.

Within, he meets Valus Odiil worrying about his boys trying to defend their farm but also runs back into Guilbert Jemane. The Jermane brothers revealed that the exact location of their family farm had been lost, and could Kicks help them find it? He likes the brothers... well, he likes Guilbert at least, so off we went, back to the fighter's guild, to talk to Sabine Laul who knows where the farm is. She obliges, so it's off to Weatherleah and some orc killing.

Once the brothers were safely ensconced on the farm and Kicks had a good night's rest, off we went, bound for Cheydinhall.

Kicks is not good at wayfinding. Kicks has trouble remembering the cardinal directions. Kicks got lost a lot trying to ride from Weatherleah through the Great Forest to the Red Ringroad (I was feeling tired and a bit stupid). No worries, we eventually made it to the road, and killed a couple of opportunistic bandits on the way up to Sercen, the Ayleid ruin at the point where the Silver rd meets the Red rd.

Kicks was ready for the bandits. Kicks was not ready for the minotaur. As the first of the arrows struck his horse, he dismounted and ran towards the ruin. Then there was a whinny behind him, and he whirled to see his horse being attacked by the minotaur. The horse ran off. The minotaur ran off. The bandits ran off. Kicks stood stupidly in the middle of the road for a moment, before lumbering off after them. But he was in heavy plate, carrying the spoils of previous battles and a heavy mace. There was no chance he was ever going to catch up in time.

By the time he arrived, his horse was dead, one of the bandits had been killed by the minotaur, the minotaur was on its last legs and easily dispatched and the bandit archer was hiding in fear until Kicks turned up and then took her out too. So there he is, not even noon, and his day is screwed. He has to walk the rest of the way to Cheydinhall (part of the RP is trying not to reload saves and no quick travel).

Stoicly, off he trundles and makes the Roxey in by noon, so he stops in for lunch. There, he learns about some mage terrorising the area. But alas, there's no time to help; he needs to make it to Cheydinhal. However, while eating, he does run into Pranal, the Heavy Armour trainer. After pestering Pranal with ale and dinner, the retired soldier gives in and says that he'd train Kicks on the condition he finds a nice set of silver glasses and a carafe for the woman Pranal is interested in. It's a fair trade, so Kicks takes it.

With that settled, Kicks makes his way to Cheydinhal. Halfway up the Blue rd, with night closing in, it starts to rain. The rain soon turns into a rolling thunderstorm, so it's a cold, wet, tired and thus very grumpy orc who meets another pair of bandits almost outside the city gates. Needless to say, they do not last long.

The porter greets Kicks with a towel and a smile as he trails mud and rainwater into the Fighter's Guildhouse. Upstairs, he sheds his armour and changes into nearly dry clothes. A hot dinner and some good conversation go someway to chasing away the woes of the day, and Keld tells Kicks that the horsemaster outside the city has beasts for sale.

Come morning, it's still drizzling and damp, but Kicks makes a good sale to Borba gra-Uzgash of the crap he's been toating around and forgets all about bitching Keld was making about the fines once Burz gro-Khash gives him his next assignment; he's to go back to Leyawin county, to a village called Water's Edge. On his way out of town, he stops to enquire about the cost of a horse but discovers that, even with the sales he made, 5000 gold is still too rich for his blood. He'll be making his way to Leyawiin on foot...

#oblivion playthrough #tes oblivion #The Elder Scrolls #I mostly wrote this because I was annoyed about loosing the horse #but it's also good way to remember wtf I was up to with this character

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hellfirehaley · 2 years

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Strange Love Chapter 3

CW: drug use (marijuana), language, angst, memory of infidelity.

Word Count: 5.1K

AN: Shoutout to @mvnsoneddie86 for being an amazing human being who supported me throughout my entire writer's block last week.

A few things:

This chapter was originally twice as long but after discussing it with my showrunner (aka my husband); I made the executive decision to cut it in two and edit the second half a little more diligently. So let me know what you think and what you'd like to see. I'll try to have the next part out on time next week (I promise).

I'm not sure who has seen it but I do mini updates throughout the week on my progress under the tag 'Strange Love An Eddie Fic' so it'll be easier to find my ramblings as opposed to digging around for it. There's also a masterlist pinned to my blog if you ever get lost. If there was anything you wanted to tell me you liked or disliked, message me. My DMs are ALWAYS open.

September 21, 1985

School had been in session for a month and you were already stressed from homework and pressure from Mom to participate. You went to one game last night to support Ali and Robin to prove a point. Your mom, temporarily pacified, let you have the girls over today for a girls day/sleepover. You felt you had barely seen them due to band, debate and photo obligations.

You got up around 10 and called both girls asking what they wanted to do today and you all decided on a spa day: deep conditioning or masking your hair, mud facial masks, cucumbers (for the eye bags) . Upon ending the call, you ran up to your room and got dressed in a pair of tights, your Runaways shirt, a red and black flannel that was a little too big for you, grabbed your keys and put on your Converse before running to the grocery store (grabbing cookies, cupcakes, chips, assorted candies and the latest Tiger Beat and Cosmopolitan issues. You also grabbed a new vial of nail polish, wanting to try the new blood red color from Revlon, a green for Robin and another bottle of dye for Ali’s color touchup.

By the time you arrived back at your house, Ali’s Buick was parked out front of your house. You waved at them as you pulled in the driveway, putting it in park. They walked up to the car, pulling up their sleeves ready to help.

“Hey Y/N. Ready for some gossip and girls day?” Robin said chipperly. You giggled and nodded, closing the door behind you. They grabbed the bags and followed you into the house as you unlocked the door.

“I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever. How have you been? Tell me everything!” Ali gushed, walking in and going straight to the kitchen, Norm on her heels. Robin followed behind as you closed the door behind you. You got out all of the bowels as Ali set out the candy and Robin fixed everyone a drink. You really loved having such an unspoken bond with the girls. Not having many friends made you appreciate the ones you did have.

“So Vickie noticed my hair in the band yesterday and I almost choked on my own tongue. She said and I quote “Hey did you do something different to your hair? It looks shinier than normal.” THAN NORMAL? Does that mean that she noticed it before? That she was aware of what my hair normally looks like so she can tell when I do something different?” Robin said, handing each of you a glass of New Coke before pacing the kitchen while she went on.

“I mean do you wanna do something different to it? Wanna tease it or crimp it next time?” you offer trying to help as you took a sip of your own soda

“No, maybe next time I can get some highlights done before the weather drops. I’m sure we will figure out something ladies cause I wanna keep this streak up of Vickie noticing me.” Robin gushed, thinking about her red-haired amore.

“Plus we need to update Ali’s color so that pink really pops for Steeeeeve.” you tease, poking Ali in the side as she swats you away.

“Oh my god stop. You already know he is never gonna see me like that. I’m doing this for myself.” Ali said powerfully as you and Robin applauded her, hyping her up.

“Now we need music.” Robin said, going to the record collection in the dining room. She immediately chose the Escape album from Journey, the sounds of Don’t Stop Believing blasting through your house.

“Just a small town girl living in a lonely world; she took the midnight train going anywhere.” Robin sang as she started dancing towards you two

“Just a city boy, born and raised in South Detroit. Took a midnight train going anywhere” Ali sang, holding Robin’s hand dramatically.

“A singer in a smoky room, a smell of wine and cheap perfume. For a smile, they can share the night. It goes on…” you sang as the other two girls joined in singing the rest in harmony (loudly) while getting the mud mask materials mixed together and cutting up some cucumber slices. It was a cooler day so it was perfect for your masks. You applied Robin’s first since she was always antsy and couldn’t sit still, then Ali’s. Cucumbers in hand, you opened the screen door letting Norm come hang out with you, the sounds of Journey playing faintly on your patio. You set a timer to 15 minutes before you wash off the masks.

“So I like Vickie, Ali likes Steve so that leaves you Y/N. Who do you like this year? Any potential suitors?” Robin asked as you were applying the goopy mess to your face.

“I don’t do crushes ladies, you know that.” you state spreading the thick mix around your nose.

“Yeah yeah we know but we’re talking hypothetical” Ali urged, really curious. You told her everything and she knew your type but wanted to hear it from you.

“Well hypothetically it would be someone who challenges me. Someone who makes me feel like a better person without relying on them constantly. Someone who can make me laugh but also talk to for hours about nothing. Someone who I don’t have to hide who I am from” you admit.

“That sounds amazing Y/N” Robin gushed, taking a drink of her soda.

“Yeah too bad he doesn’t exist in Hawkins so I guess I’ll settle for Patrick Swayze” you say laughing

“You never know, I mean look at how Joyce Byers was with Chief Hopper. They were in the same town for years and then BAM! I mean you saw them holding hands at the 4th of July bash before the Mind Flayer shit happened.” Ali said, recalling a few months ago when Hawkins was (once again) almost destroyed by an interdimensional creature trying to go after your friend. You could only think now of Joyce, who lost the love of her life twice. Once back in November of 1984 when she lost Bob and now losing Jim a few months ago. You don’t blame her at all for packing up the kids and getting the hell out of Hawkins.

“As your best friend, I must say that I approve of whatever is going on with Eddie Munson.” Ali stated, her hand up like a Scout’s Honor.

“Nothing is going on Ali. We’re friends who happen to both be really into music,” you say shrugging.

“That explains why you’ve been listening to a lot more metal than normal.” Ali noted, remembering you picking her up to school listening to Metallica.

“Or I just like metal as you should be aware of” you say laughing.

“Yeah. You like Motley Crue more but you’re going old school and discovering like the foundations” Ali said.

“Maybe but on the other hand ladies, I’ve got Eddie Munson listening to everything but metal and personally that’s a win for everyone,” you say, taking a drink of your soda in satisfaction.

“How the hell did this unorthodox friendship start? It feels like suddenly you guys are thick as thieves, he walks you to your locker after class; you say hi in the halls and lunch. He asks how your day is,” Robin rambles, her inner detective coming out.

“Honestly it was O’Donnell’s class. He was assigned to be my peer editor and he caught me singing ``Smokin In The Boys Room,” you say, remembering back to how his curls moved back and forth with his rhythm, those damned rings, his fingers tapping to the beat. The surprised smirk on his face, maybe a little pride behind it too.

The sound of the alarm startled you from your thoughts of the metalhead as you three headed inside washing off the dried mud mixes off your faces in the tub, using the shower head. Once all three of you were fresh faced, you changed the record over and got started with mixing the color for Ali’s hair. You could hear Ali and Robin arguing about Ali’s feelings for Steve and it was to the point you were about to step in and start matchmaking the hell out of it.

“I give it til Prom and they’ll be together,” you yell, stirring the chemicals trying to get a nice shade of pink.

“Fuck off L/N. We weren’t asking you,” Ali said, appearing before you in an old shirt, stained from previous color sessions.

“You know what Roberts, for that comment, I take it back. I give it til Winter Formal, hell make it Christmas. Final answer.” you state, putting on some rubber gloves as Ali sits down.

“You’re horrible Y/N” Ali whined as Robin started to section out Ali’s hair.

“Duh that’s why I’m your best friend Ali” you laugh, satisfied with the pink bowl before you.

“Plus it’s cute how you don’t see how Steve is when you’re not around” Robin said, smirking like a madwoman

“WHAT” Ali yelped, trying to face Robin

“He’s a mess dude. Always wondering what you’re doing or what you’d think of a new release at work. He’s in DEEP. Like way worse than he was with Wheeler” Robin said, remembering him freaking out over his picks for Movie Night last month. Ali couldn't fight the blush on her cheeks.

“Yeah and he’s always asking me what you prefer- I mean remember when we went to the Sunrise Diner last week and he sent your food back because it had condiments on it and he knows you HATE that” you said.

“Okay smartass. Then how do I break that barrier if you two single bitches have it ALL figured out,” Ali said, frustrated by her conflicting feelings.

“Well he likes your boobies so you could start by showing them off next time we hang out,” Robin said giggling as she put some pink on Ali’s roots.

“What?!” Ali said, surprised.

“Oh yeah! Wear that striped off the shoulder sweater you have. Your boobs like AHMAYZING in that” you say, working on your own section of her hair.

“It’s like 2 sizes too small Y/N” Ali says.

“Exactly!” you say, twisting the strand up with your other finished strands “Robin back me up here as our resident Boob Expert” Before she had the chance, your doorbell rang. The girls looked at you confused since you weren’t expecting company.

“You invite anyone over?” Ali said, confused as the three of you looked at each other like confused chickens.

“Not that I can remember,’ you say as the doorbell goes off again. You take off your gloves, tossing them into the trash. Norm was barking his ass off by the time you got to the door, petting him gently, soothing the dog as you opened the door.

To say you were surprised to see Eddie Munson was an understatement. He was wearing a stressed out Iron Maiden shirt, ripped jeans and his Reeboks. His hair was wind blown and damn…he looked good.

“Eddie…hi…” you say, surprised. What was he doing here? You didn’t remember making plans with him.

“Hey Y/N.” Eddie said, smiling as he took in your appearance. You looked so comfortable and at home.

“What are you uh…doing here? Not to be rude but I wasn’t expecting more company,” you say nervously. You then realize your outfit and blush.

“Well, according to my schedule, you ordered a delivery m’lady.” Eddie said smiling. You felt like a ton of bricks dropped on your head. You DID make plans with Eddie today and completely forgot. You’re never one to double book yourself.

“Oh god Eddie I'm so sorry I forgot. Ali and Robin came over for a girls day and I totally spaced it. Here come on in,” you say, opening the door to let him in. Eddie followed you but not far as Norm jumped up on him, tail wagging.

“Aw this must be Norm. Hey buddy,” Eddie said, getting down to Norm’s level, indulging the dog in pets and rubs. You look over at the girls who are watching the ENTIRE thing with Robin mouthing “Oh My God” slowly.

“Yep, that's Norm. He’s the best boy,” you coo at him while his tail thumps harder at the sound of your voice.

“Told you I’d meet him someday” he teased, scratching the dog’s belly, earning a round of quick foot kicking. It was amazing how Norm was so happy with Eddie; it took Norm months to warm up to men.

“Guess you were right Munson” you say, looking over at the girls for help on what to do as you went to get the money for Eddie.

“So what are your plans today Eddie?” Robin yelled, taking your cue. Eddie’s head snapped up at Robin’s voice, temporarily forgetting they weren’t alone.

“Uh…was just gonna drop off this delivery for Y/N then probably go back home,” Eddie admitted, shrugging.

“You should join us!” Robin yelled from her spot above Ali.

“Yeah we’re having a beauty day and no offense, Munson, but those curls NEED a deep condition,” Ali gushed, already thinking about getting her hands on those curls and the look on Y/N’s face when she spends time with Eddie.

“Oh no no no, I couldn’t impose on your day ladies,” Eddie said, trying to protest but they were having none of it. Y/N had changed over the last few weeks and it was nice to see the old her back. If Eddie was the source of it, they weren’t about to let him leave.

“Oh no Munson, we insist,” Ali stated, her tone similar to the one you had used during the photo shoot. Eddie knew he was stuck. It was 2 against 1 but he didn’t wanna make it weird for you in your own home.

“I don’t wanna make it awkward for you girls. You don’t have to worry about me,” Eddie tried again.

“Oh please. Y/N would love to have you join us. Besides, Steve is coming after his shift so you won’t be the only guy for too long,” Robin added. Eddie pondered it; I mean he didn’t have any other plans for the day and he did like hanging out with Y/N.

“Sure I’m in. How can I be of assistance?” Eddie asks, standing up and walking towards the kitchen.

“Y/N and I were putting color in Ali’s hair so grab some gloves,” Robin tries

“Ohhhh no. Noooo way. I’ve got a better idea. Eddie can DJ for us but no super heavy metal Munson. Plus he can roll for us while we do your nails.” Ali stated matter of factly.

“Aye aye Captain,” Eddie saluted, sitting himself at the counter by the kitchen. You returned downstairs and found them all seated.

“So here’s the $20 for the sack,” you say, walking over to him.

“Oh it’s $15 cause the ladies over here offered me a sweet deal I couldn’t pass up,” Eddie said, winking at Robin and Ali. You were so confused like you had missed something.

“Oh? Well I’ve only got a 20 so call it a tip for the delivery fee and an apology for me neglecting our scheduled appointment,” you say, still missing something; like why Eddie wasn’t already almost out the door. Not that you were complaining but you were definitely out of the loop.

“Much appreciated L/N but unnecessary. I’ll get you back tomorrow,” Eddie said, opening his black pail just like he had 2 weeks prior. At this point, you weren’t gonna question it and grabbed a fresh pair of gloves.

“Thanks Eddie” you say anything as you get more dye on the brush once again going back to your task.

“No problem and again, ladies, thank you for the invitation and let me apologize for crashing your day,” Eddie said, grabbing two papers from his pack.

“Oh please Eddie, Steve usually ends up crashing anyways so don’t sweat it.” Robin said.

So THAT’S why. Those sneaky little minxes playing Cupid, you thought.

“So ladies. What’s the first album you’d like to hear? What are we feeling?” Eddie asked, grinding up some bud between his fingers.

“Ooh that mixtape Y/N made last month. Oh it was so good,” Ali said, already hype.

“Oh? And where might that be?” Eddie inquired, feeling out of his element here.

“In the cassette player by the record player in the dining room. Just make sure you turn off the record player before you turn on the cassette player,” you say, working on Ali’s hair, not able to move.

Eddie got up and went to the indicated spot. He did as instructed, turning off the record player before going to the cassette player. He opened it and checked the tape. Sure enough, it was a tape labeled “Girls Night Remix💙🦋🦋 “ decorated in hearts and blue butterflies. He rewound it until he heard the click and pressed play. The house immediately flooded with the flourish of a piano and vocals. You three immediately yelled in excitement, harmonizing before breaking into Dancing Queen. Eddie took his seat and watched as you girls danced and sang, completely free. He tried to focus on rolling those joints but his eyes were trained on Y/N, how she moved when a certain lyric hit, how concentrated she was on making sure Ali’s hair looked good. How you giggle at Robin’s joke. Sure he had moments with you but this was like seeing you at your fullest potential.

“What do you think Eddie?” Ali asked, breaking his concentration. He hadn’t been paying attention and he was caught.

“Uh sorry what? I uh got super into the song and zoned out,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. They all laughed at his response “What was the question?”

“Nothing, nothing, never mind.” Robin laughed. Clearly he had missed something; probably some inside joke they had between them. They finished up Ali’s hair into a grocery bag (which Eddie thought was the weirdest shit he had seen in a minute)

“So would you ladies like a break?” He says,offering up a joint he had ready to go.

“God yes,” Ali said, feeling the restlessness from sitting for over 30 minutes.

“We can go to my room but we have to–” you started to say

“Light the incense and candles. We know Y/N.” Robin said, rolling her eyes. They know you too well but you didn’t need Eddie knowing your micro mannerisms.

“Lead the way,” Eddie said, grabbing the joint and his lunch pail. You led them upstairs to your room, the second to the right. Your room was clean apart from a thing or two out of place like yesterday’s sleepwear. Robin and Ali got right to work opening the windows and lighting the candles, which gave Eddie time to look around your room. Immediately when you walk in, you’re greeted by a gigantic poster of luscious red lips with a man in lingerie sitting on them with the title Rocky Horror Picture Show in bloody print. By it were posters of Motley Crue, Kiss, AC/DC, Led Zeppelin and a few bands Eddie didn’t recognize. On the opposing wall was a poster of Stevie Nicks, holding her tambourine to her face, fabric falling in front of her face. There was a vanity mirror below the poster with a dark haired celebrity posing like he was mysterious. For some reason, Eddie felt a pang of jealousy. But why? You were friends. So what? He had Heavy Metal magazines out when you were over and you said nothing (Thank God!). There was a pale delicate fabric draping over your dresser, your vanity and bookshelf, which fit Eddie’s “ethereal” theory about you.

“Shit; my lighter’s out. Hey Eddie, can I borrow yours?” Y/N asked, standing on the opposite side of the room. Eddie made his way over, fishing out his lighter as he crossed to her.

“Of course m’lady. Here you are,” Eddie said, without even thinking. It had become his little name for you but you didn’t mind honestly. You take it from him, fingers touching. It sent an electric current through you, like nothing you had felt before. It makes your heart beat faster, your breath hitch slightly. Your touch lingered a few seconds before you pulled away.

“Thanks Eds,” you say smiling before turning towards your dresser. He noted that you had a lot of different types of crystals there but they were more shiny; more clean and colorful. You lit the incense and waited a moment for the end to cherry before blowing it out.

Robin and Ali watched the entire interaction from their spots on your desk chair and bean bag chair, looking between the two of you and each other.

“M’lady?” Robin mouthed, shocked

“Eds?” Ali retorted.

“We have to do something,” Robin said as Ali gave her a thumbs up. Y/N sat on the bed as Eddie followed her. He lit the joint and took his turn.

“What should we watch tonight?” Robin asked after a minute, taking her hit before passing it to Ali.

“Hmmm good question. I definitely wanna watch Sixteen Candles again” Ali said, taking the joint and bringing it to her lips.

“Steve will probably wanna see some Tom Cruise movie so buckle up for that shocker,” Robin said to Eddie.

“We could go see Back to the Future and watch Robin and Steve try to explain the plot AGAIN,” you say laughing.

“What about you Eddie? What kind of movies are you into?” Robin asked as he inhaled.

“I’m more of a horror fan or like science fiction or fantasy,” Eddie admitted as he passed the joint to Y/N.

“Would we completely reject the idea of Rocky Horror tonight?” Y/N asked, blowing out her hit.

“You saying you wanna Time Warp again Y/N” Ali asked laughing.

“Absolutely!” Y/N said, joining in.

“Have you seen it before Eddie?” Ali asked, curiously.

“Nope. I’ve only recently heard of it,” Eddie said, smiling as he looked at Y/N for a moment.

“Alright that settles it. Sixteen Candles, Rocky Horror, Steve’s choice and whatever our guest would like to watch,” Robin stated as they finished the joint.

“Why don’t you and Y/N go get the movies while I do Robin’s manicure?” Ali offered “I don’t want you to get bored out of your mind.”

“Yeah? Sure if that’s alright with Y/N” Eddie said, looking at you as you nodded.

“Excellent, so meet back up in like 45 minutes.” Robin said, getting up with Ali following suit.

“I just need to grab some cash then we can go,” Y/N said, going to her bookshelf. Eddie looked at the titles from afar and recognized some Tolkien, King, most of the “required” reads from the curriculum and some of those sappy romance novels. That immediately piqued Eddie’s interest. Part of him was dying to know what you looked like reading one; getting sheepish at a particularly steamy scene.

Eddie shook his head, not wanting to go there NOW. He stood up, putting his hands in his pockets. “Do we need anything else while we are out?” Eddie asked.

“Umm just tell Steve he’s getting dinner” Ali said

“Yes! Pizza!” Robin chirped.

“Any requests ladies? Cheese? Pepperoni?”

“Both!” the girls said in unison

“Alright I’ve got everything. Are you ready?” you ask, grabbing your denim shoulder bag, slinging it over your shoulder.

“Yep. I’ll drive since you let me so graciously crash your day,” Eddie said, extending his arm for you to lead which you did.

“45 minutes KIDS!” Robin yelled as you and Eddie exited the door.

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

The drive to Family Video was full of you and Eddie jamming out to his mixtape, even getting an exclusive haunting cover of Fever out of him. You felt so free with Eddie; like all the barriers you had built had shattered when he came around. You could be your full self around him without having to filter a part here and there because it didn’t fit his “scene”. Eddie accepted you for you.

He parked right next to Steve’s car burgundy BMW, the sounds of a Motley Crue chorus blasting as he shut the car off. You got out of the van and Eddie raced to the door, opening it for you.

“Why thank you kind sir,” you say walking in. Eddie followed suit, the bell ringing behind him. Steve was with another customer, trying to help her choose between two movies so you immediately made your way to the Comedy section, trying to get to the S portion.

“So how did you and Harrington become friends?” Eddie asked. He kept trying to picture it but it was too weird.

“It was a little before his breakup with Nance. He uh–gave me some really good advice at a party last year and helped me when I felt lower than dirt. Been friends ever since. When he and Nancy were donezo and he stopped caring about the King Steve reputation, he and Ali got close because of the kids we all look after,” you explain, grabbing Sixteen Candles, “He and I really became close, close friends because of Dustin. We’re both hyper parental over the shitheads and try our best to keep them in linee. It was actually Steve’s terrible Ewok impression,” you recall laughing.

“You mean AWESOME” a voice said to the side of you. There stood Steve Harrington, hands crossed over his chest in defense, his striped polo under his dark green vest crinkled slightly by this action.

“Absolutely not. 0 out of 10 stars Steve.” you joke.

“I thought you were having a girls day since I’m covering Robin’s shift today.” Steve said, looking between you and Eddie, wondering what he was missing. He was told by Ali last week that they would be doing this and even gave Steve the week off from picking up/dropping off the shitheads. So why was Y/N here with Eddie Munson?

“Robin and Ali are working on Robin’s manicure so they sent us to the store to grab movies. Speaking of which, we need Rocky Horror.” you say as Steve groaned.

“Again Y/N? You know how I feel about musicals” Steve said, going to the drama section.

“Shut it Harrington. You’re lucky we’re letting you choose a movie at all tonight,” you warned laughing.He returned successfully with the tape in hand, turning towards Eddie.

“So how did you get roped into this?” Steve quizzed, curious about Eddie’s presence still as the longer haired boy was browsing the horror films.

“Came to deliver a package to Miss Y/N but the ladies insisted I stay for movie night and help play music while they do their thing” Eddie recalled. Steve had no idea what Robin and Ali had up their sleeves but he did know that he wanted nothing to do with it but he did wanna know what you were doing with Eddie.

“Alright then,” Steve said, now wondering what they were up to.

“Also you’re buying pizza tonight,” Y/N said, browsing for a copy of Animal House.

“Wait what? Who?” Steve said, not in the mood to be roped into any shenanigans.

“Aliiiiiii. Consider it a part of your payback for babysitting duties,” you say grabbing the desired VHS tape. You knew Steve liked Ali but was too bruised to try anything and you were sick of it.

“Ugh fine. The usual?” Steve said, rubbing between his eyebrows to mask the blush at her name. But when he looked up, he noticed something else. You and Eddie walked up to the counter and you were eying the candies, putting your nail between your lips. Eddie watched you pick up one candy before going to another, taking time to really debate your choice of sweets. Eddie sat the tapes on the counter and waited, grabbing the $20 you gave him earlier and sliding it on the counter towards Steve.

“Movies and candy are on me Harrington.” Eddie said, smiling as you decided on M&Ms and Reese’s Pieces “Couldn’t decide?” he pondered at you.

“It’s so hard to choose between a classic chocolate or the best combo of peanut butter and chocolate.” you whine while putting the candy on the counter. Eddie laughed at your childish reaction, finding it adorable.

Steve gave back his change and watched them, noting Y/N brushing her hair behind her ear shyly and Eddie watching over her like a hawk. Steve had always felt protective over Y/N. She really helped him come out of his breakup with Nancy and he did the same for her last year when she got her heart shattered by Rob: the douchebag who used to hang out with him during his King Steve days. Rob worshipped Steve so Steve thought nothing of it when Rob and Y/N started dating. They were together a year until Halloween 1984. There was a big party; Steve was at the end of his relationship with Nancy but Y/N and Ali were there too. You were both dressed up like slutty witches and were fine at first. After Nancy got wasted and fought with Steve that night, he went to find you and Ali to talk about everything but that wasn’t what he found. Instead, he found you crying by the bonfire alone. He sat next to you and learned everything, How you found Rob balls deep in his chemistry partner Misty Norwood after swearing for months they were friends. Apparently he had been going on the entire time and you felt so blind, so stupid, foolish even. You punched him in the face then and there; Steve noted your bloodied knuckles. He took you and Ali back to his house and you guys had been friends ever since, Steve becoming the real big brother you need.

“I’m off at 5 tonight so I’ll be over after I pick up the pizzas okay Y/N?” Steve asked, looking at Eddie still, watching his every move.

“Yeah of course Steve. You know you’re always welcome.” Y/N said, smiling as she gathered up her goodies, putting them in her bag.

“Alright. I’ll see you guys later then,” Steve said as Eddie grabbed the stack of tapes. Steve watched as Eddie raced to the door to open it for you, thanking him and going to the GMC G2500 Gaucho with Eddie opening your door yet again, waiting on you to get comfortable before going to his side, a little more pep in his step. Steve could already tell he would be seeing more of Eddie Munson with his dear friend.

So what do we think? I know it’s not as long as promised but I am working on chapter four right now so I’m curious: what movie did Eddie choose? How will that play out? Send me what movies you think😉

Taglist: @realeddiemunsonstandup @eddies-blunt @scooprtroopr @sharkbaitouhaha @bobbiewritesstuff @eveieforeve02 @awkwardlioness @apublicnotebook @madaboutmunson2 @grungegrrrl @riffcrusader @stardustworlds @sunflowerharrington

#strange love an eddie fic #haley talks shit #haley writes shit #haley writes fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson slow burn #fic recs

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onlycosmere · 2 years

Text

The Lost Metal

Brandon Sanderson:

So what are we gonna read? Well, I have draft number two of Wax & Wayne 4, The Lost Metal.

And as I warned you, if anyone came in late, the prologue is available on my YouTube channel with me reading it, or we sent it out as a newsletter. If you're not on the newsletter ask one of your friends, or go hang out in the 17th Shard and ask them. I give permission that they can send it to you so you can read it if you want to. It might be posted, as far as I know, on there as well. I expect when I read these things that they're gonna get around. So we're going to read chapter 1 of The Lost Metal. And I'm just going to kind of read until we hit to 7:30.

Chapter 1

Marasi had never been in a sewer before, but the experience was exactly as awful as she'd imagined. The stench, of course, was incredible. But worse was the way her booted feet would occasionally slip for a heart-stopping moment, threatening to plunge her down into the "mud" underneath.

It would be bad, but manageable, if the place was slippery in a consistent way. Inconsistent slippage was far worse. At least she'd had the foresight to wear a uniform with trousers today, along with knee high leather work boots. That didn't protect from the scent, the feel, or, unfortunately, the sound. When she stepped, map in one hand, rifle in the other, her boots would pull free with a squelch of mythical proportions. It would have been the worst sound ever if it hadn't been overmatched by Wayne’s complaining.

"Wax never brought me to a rustin’ sewer," he muttered by her side.

"Are there sewers in the Roughs?"

"Well, no," he admitted. "Pastures smell almost as bad, and he did make me march through those. But Marasi, they didn't have spiders."

"They probably did," she said, holding the map toward his lantern to read it. "You just couldn't see them."

"S’pose," he grumbled, "but it's worse when you can see the webs. Also, there's, you know, the literal sewage."

Marasi nodded to a tunnel to the side, and they started that direction. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"What?" he demanded.

"Your mood."

"Nothing's wrong with my rustin’ mood," he said. "It's exactly the kind of mood you're supposed to have when your partner forces you to stick your front side into a bunch of stuff that comes out the back side."

"And last week," she said, "when we were investigating a perfume shop?"

"Rustin’ perfumers," Wayne said, eyes narrowing. "Never can tell what they’re hiding with those fancy smells. You can't trust a man that doesn't smell like a man should."

"Sweat and booze?"

"Sweat and cheap booze."

"Wayne, how can you complain about someone putting on airs? You put on a different personality every time you change hats."

"Does my smell change?"

"I suppose not."

"Argument won. There are literally no holes in it whatsoever, conversation over." They shared a look. "I should get me some perfumes, eh?" Wayne said. "Someone might be able to spot my disguises if I always smell like sweat and cheap booze."

"You're hopeless."

"What's hopeless," he said, "is my poor shoes."

"Could have worn boots, like I suggested."

"Ain’t got no boots," he said. "Wax stole ‘em."

"Wax stole your boots. Really?"

"Well, they're in his closet," Wayne said, "instead of three pairs of his poshest shoes, which somehow ended up in my closet, completely by happenstance." He glanced at her. "It was a fair trade, I liked those boots."

She just barely kept her balance at another slip. Rusting hell, if she fell, he would never stop talking about it. But this did seem the best way. Construction on citywide underground train tunnels, or just the Tunnels, was ongoing, and two days ago, a demolition man had filed a report warning that he didn't want to blast the next section.

Apparently, seismic readings had indicated they were near to a cavern of some sort. This area underneath Elendel was peppered with aging caverns, and the seismograph readings the demolition man had found indicated an unknown one was somewhere in this region. The same region where a group of local gang enforcers kept vanishing and reappearing, almost as if they had a hidden exit to an unmarked, unseen lair.

She consulted the map again marked with construction notes and a nearby oddity that the sewer builders had noted years ago which had never been investigated.

"I think MeLaan is going to break up with me," Wayne said softly. "That's why maybe I've been uncharacteristically downbeat in my general disposition as of late."

"What makes you think that?"

"On account of her telling me, 'Wayne, I'm probably going to have to break up with you in a few weeks.'"

"Well, that's polite of her."

"I think she got a new job from the big guy or something," Wayne said, "but it ain't right, how slow it's going. Not the proper way to break up with a fellow at all."

"And what is the proper way?"

"Throw something at his head," Wayne said, "sell his stuff, tell his mates he's a knob."

"You’ve had some interesting relationships."

"Nah, mostly just bad ones," he said. "I asked <Jamie Walls> what she thought I should do. You know her, she's at the tavern most nights."

"I... know her," Marasi said. "She's... a woman of ill repute."

"What?" Wayne said. "Who's been saying that nonsense? <Jamie> has a great reputation! Of all the whores on the block, she gives the best—"

"I do not need to hear that next part, thank you."

"Ill repute," he said, chuckling. "I'm gonna tell <Jamie> what you said about her, Marasi. She worked hard for her reputation. Gets to charge four times what anyone else does! Ill repute indeed."

"And what did she say?"

"Well, she said MeLaan just wanted me to try harder in the relationship," Wayne said, "but I think in this case, Jamie was wrong, because MeLaan doesn't play games. When she says things, she means them. So it's, you know."

"I'm sorry, Wayne," Marasi said, taking him by the arm.

"I knew it couldn't last," he said, "rustin’ knew it, you know? She's like, what, a thousand years old?"

"Roughly half that," Marasi said.

"And I'm not even 40!" Wayne said. "Probably more like 16, if you take count of my spry, youthful physique."

"Or your sense of humor."

"Damn right!" he said, then sighed. "Things have just been rough lately, with Wax being all fancy these last few years, MeLaan being gone for months at a time. Feel like nobody wants me around. Maybe I belong in a sewer, you know?"

"You don't," she said. "You're the best partner I've ever had."

"Only partner."

"Only?" she said. "<Gorglan> doesn't count?"

"Nope, he's not human. I gots papers what prove he's a giraffe in disguise." Regardless, he smiled. "But thanks for asking, thanks for caring."

She nodded then led the way onward.

When she'd imagined her life as a top detective and lawwoman, she hadn’t envisioned this part. But at least the smell was getting better, or she was getting used to it. Or maybe the insides of her nose were just dying off. Still, it was extremely gratifying to find, at the exact place marked on the map, an old metal door set in the wall of the sewer.

She had Wayne hold up the lantern, and one didn't need a keen detective's eye to see the door had been used lately. Silvery scrape marks from the sides of the frame, handle clean from the pervasive filth and cobwebs.

"Nice," Wayne said, leaning in beside her. "Some first rate detectivin', Marasi. Sewer portion notwithstandin'. How many old surveys and building reports did you have to read to find this?"

"Too many," she said. "If I'd known how much of my job would involve searching the documents library..."

"They leave that part out of the stories when they write about us," Wayne said. "All the research."

"You did this sort of thing back in the Roughs?"

"Well, it was the Roughs variety," Wayne said. "Usually involved holding some bloke face down in a trough until he 'remembered' whose old prospecting claim he'd been filching. But it's the same principle really, just with more swearing."

She handed him her rifle and investigated the door. He didn't like her to make a big deal out of him being able to hold guns these days without his hands shaking. She'd never seen him fire one, but he said he could if needed to. He really was getting better.

They'd been working almost six years now, since Wax's retirement following the incident surrounding the Bands of Mourning. Wayne was an official constable, not some strange, barely-inside-the-law deputized citizen. Even wore a uniform once in a while.

Now, this door. It was shut tight, of course, and had no lock on this side. But it seemed the people she was hunting had found it closed too, as there were a bunch of marks on the metal on one side. Looking close, she found that there was just enough room to slip something through the door and frame. "I need something sharp to get through this," she said.

"You can use my razor sharp wit."

"Alas," she said, "you aren't the type of tool that I need at the moment, Wayne."

"Ha!" he said. "I like that one."

He handed her a knife from the backpack, where they kept supplies like rope, along with their metals, just in case they faced an Allomancer. These kinds of gang enforcers shouldn't have access to that sort of thing. They were just your basic "shake down shopkeepers for protection money" types. Yet, she had reports that made her wary. She was increasingly certain this group was funded by the Set, and if she caught them they might finally lead to answers she'd been hunting for years.

With the knife, she managed to undo the bar holding the door closed from the other side. It swung free with a soft clang, and she eased the door open to look at a rough hewn tunnel leading downward. One of the many that dotted this region, dating back to the ancient days before the Catacendre, to the time of myths and heroes, ashfalls and tyrants. Together, she and Wayne slipped inside, then did up the door to leave it as they found it. They dimmed their lantern as a precaution, then started down into the depths.

Brandon Sanderson

Chapter 2

"Cravat?" Steris asked, reading from the list.

"Tied and pinned," Wax said, pulling it tight.

"Shoes?"

"Polished."

"Proof one?"

Wax flipped a silver medallion up in the air, then caught it.

"Proof two?" Steris asked, making a check mark on her list.

He pulled a small folded stack of papers from his pocket. "Right here."

"Proof three?"

Wax reached into his other pocket, then paused looking around the small office, his senator's chamber in the house of proceedings, he'd left that...

"On the desk back home!" he said, smacking his head.

"I brought an extra," Steris said, digging in her bag.

Wax grinned. "Of course you did."

"Two copies, actually," Steris said, handing over another sheet of paper, which he tucked into his other coat pocket. Then she consulted her list again.

Little Maxillium stepped up beside his mother, looking very serious as he scanned his own list, which was mostly just scribbles. At five years old, he knew his letters, but preferred to make up his own.

"Dog picture," Max said, as if reading from his list.

"I could use one of those," Wax said. "Very useful."

Max solemnly presented it, then said, "Cat picture,"

"Need one of those too."

"I'm bad at cats," Max said, handing him another sheet, "so it looks like a squirrel."

Wax hugged his son, then tucked the sheets away reverently with the others. The boy's sister, Tindwyl—as Steris liked traditional names—babbled in the corner, where <Kath>, the governess, was watching her.

Finally, Steris handed him his pistols one at a time. Long-barrelled and nasty looking, they had been designed by Ranette to look menacing, but had two safeties and were actually unloaded. It had been a while since he'd had to shoot anyone, but he continued to make good use of his reputation as the lawman senator of the Roughs. Cityfolk, particularly politicians, tended to be intimidated by small arms. They preferred to kill people with more modern weapons, like poverty and despair.

"Is a kiss from my wife on that list?" Wax asked.

"Actually, no," she said, surprised.

"A rare oversight," he said, then kissed her, lingering before pulling back. "You should be the one going out there today, Steris. You did more of the work preparing them than I did."

"You're the house lord."

"I could appoint you as a representative to speak for us."

"Please, no," she said. "You know how I am with people."

"You're very good with the right people."

"And are politicians ever right about anything?"

"I hope so," he said, straightening his suit coat and turning toward the door. "Because I am one now."

He pushed out of his chambers and walked the short walk to the Senate floor. Steris would watch from her seat in the observatory balcony. By now, everyone knew how particular she was about getting the same one. Wax instead stepped into the vast chamber, which buzzed with activity as senators returned from their short recess.

He didn't go to his seat. For the last few days, different senators had been given a chance to debate the current bill, and his was the last speech in line. He had positioned it right after the planned break, as he hoped it would set his argument off, give him a final chance to avert a terrible decision.

It had taken a great deal of trading and promising to get this spot in the debate; and not a few of his political enemies were upset that he'd managed it.

He stood at the side of the speaking platform near the center, waiting for the others to sit, hand on his holster, looming. You learned to get a good loom on in the Roughs when interrogating prisoners, and it still shocked him how many of those skills worked here.

Governor <Varlance> didn't look at him. The man instead adjusted his cravat, then checked his face powder. Ghostly, pale skin was fashionable these days, for some arcane reason. Then he set out his badges on the desk, one at a time, as he always did, making everyone wait.

Rusts, I miss Aradel, Wax thought. It had been novel to have a competent governor for once. Like eating hotel food and finding it wasn't awful. Or spending time with Wayne and discovering you still had your pocket watch.

But the governor's job was the type that chewed up the good ones, the ones who tried to swim deep. It was the same type of job that let the bad ones float blissfully along the surface. Aradel had stepped down two years back, and it did make some kind of sense that the next governor chosen had been a military man, considering the tensions with the Malwish right now. Though Wax did question where <Varlance> had gotten all of those medals. So far as he knew, the army hadn't seen any actual engagements. Were they for, perhaps, excellence in shining your shoes?

<Varlance> finally nodded to his vice governor, a Terriswoman, of course. She had curly, dark hair and a traditional robe. Wax thought he'd known her in the village, but it could have been her sister, and he'd never thought of a good way to ask. Regardless, it always looked good to have a Terris on the staff. Most governors chose one. Made you look respectable. Almost like the Terris were another medal to be shown off.

<Adathwyn> stood up and belted to the room. "The governor recognizes the senator from House Ladrian."

Though he'd been waiting for this, looming and whatnot, Wax now took his time sauntering up onto the podium, which was lit from above by a massive electric spotlight. Funny, how ordinary he thought that all was now. If he walked into a room and there wasn't a light switch on the wall, he'd search for it for an embarrassingly long time before remembering there were some buildings that just weren't wired yet.

He turned around in a slow rotation, inspecting the circular chamber. The spotlight was low enough that he could still make out the faces around him. One side held the elected seats, senators who were voted into office to represent a guild, profession, or historical group. The other held the lords, senators who held their position by benefit of birth. The guild system left many people without a representative. As many as twenty percent of the population worked jobs without a senator's seat, by Marasi's estimate. The lords were supposed to make up for that, representing everyone who lived in their assigned region of the city. But when had a group of nobles ever cared about beggars? Maybe in the Last Emperor's time and just after, but people just weren't like that anymore. They were petty and short-sighted.

"This bill," Wax announced to the room, loud and firm, his voice echoing, "is a fantastically stupid idea."

Once, earlier in his political career, talking so bluntly had earned him ire at best. Now, he caught multiple members of the senate smiling. They expected this from him. Many of them seemed to enjoy it, as if they knew how many problems there were in the city and were glad that one man was willing to call them out, ignoring propriety and political necessities.

"Tensions with the Malwish are at an all time high," Wax said. "This is a time for the entire Basin to unite, not a time to drive wedges between ourselves and those who should be our strongest allies."

"This is about uniting," a voice called to him. The dock worker senator, <Maelstrom>. He was mostly a puppet for Hasting and Erikell nobles, who had been consistently a painful spike in Wax's side. "We need a leader for the whole Basin officially."

"Agreed," Wax said. "But how is elevating the Elendel governor, a position nobody outside the city can vote on, going to unite people, <Maelstrom>?"

"It will give them someone to look toward, a strong capable leader!"

And that, Wax thought, glancing at <Varlance>, is a capable leader? We're lucky he pays attention to these meetings, rather than spending the time going over his appearance schedule, <Varlance> had, so far in his one year tenure, rededicated seventeen parks in the city. He liked the flowers.

Wax didn't say anything to this effect. Steris had warned him not to antagonize the governor. There was bluntness, and then there was stupidity. He had to walk a fine line between them. Instead, he kept to the plan, getting out his medallion and flipping it in the air.

"Six years ago," Wax said, "I had a little adventure. You all know about it. Finding a wrecked Malwish airship, intervening in a plot by the outer cities to find its secrets and use them against us in Elendel. I stopped that. I brought the Bands of Mourning back to be stored safely."

"And almost started a war!" someone muttered in the reaches of the room.

"You'd rather I let the plot go forward?" Wax called back. When no response came, he flipped the medallion up and caught it again. "I dare anyone in this room to disparage my loyalty to Elendel. We can have a nice little duel. I'll even let you shoot first."

Silence. That was one thing he'd earned. A lot of the people in this room didn't like him, but they did seem to respect him, and they knew he wasn't an agent for the outer cities. He flipped the medallion and Pushed it higher, all the way up to the top of the ceiling high above. He caught it again when it came streaking down, glimmering in the light. As he did, he made certain to cast a glance toward Admiral <Jons>, current ambassador from the Malwish nation. She sat in a special place on the floor of the senate, among where mayors from the other cities were given seats when they visited. None had come to this proceeding, a visible sign they considered even a vote on this topic to be ridiculous.

"I know," Wax said, turning the medallion over in his fingers, "better than anyone the position we're in. You want to make a show of force to the outer cities, prove that they have to have to follow our rules. So you introduce this bill, elevating our governor to a presidential position of the entire Basin. This ignores the reason everyone outside Elendel is so mad at us. The bad faith actors who are leading some of the outer cities wouldn't have gotten so far without support of their people, if the average person living outside Elendel weren't so damned mad at us for our trade policies and general arrogance. This bill isn't going to placate them. This isn't a show of force. It's a maneuver designed to specifically outrage them. We pass this law, and we're demanding war between ourselves and the outer cities."

He let that sink in. They knew it.

They tried to ignore it.

They wanted so badly to appear strong, and if left unchecked, they'd strong-arm themselves right into a war, never realizing this was precisely what their enemies wanted. An excuse to rebel, a justification for war.

Wax pulled out the stack of papers in his left pocket. He held it up and turned around.

"I have 60 letters here from politicians in the outer cities. These are reasonable people, willing, even eager to work with Elendel on policy, but they are frightened, worried about what their people will do if we continue to impose tyrannical, imperial policies upon them. They're worried about war. It is my proposal that we vote down this silly bill, then work on something better. Something that can actually promote peace and unity. A kind of national assembly with representation for each outer city, and and elected supreme official from that body."

He'd expected boos, and got a few. But most of the chamber fell silent, watching him hold the letters aloft. They were afraid of what he was proposing. Afraid of letting power leave the capital. Afraid that the political ways of the outer cities would change the entire dynamic. They were cowards in that regard, and they were also playing to the hands of the Set, a shadowy organization which included his sister and his late uncle as high-ranking members, who had been pulling the strings for years.

They were still active somewhere. They might even have agents among the senators. They wanted war most of all, though he didn't know exactly why, even still. A way to gain power, certainly, but there was something else. Orders from someone, or something, known as Trell.

Unfortunately, he couldn't pin his arguments on an organization that most people still didn't believe existed. He turned around slowly, still holding up the letters, and felt a little spike of alarm as he turned back to <Maelstrom>. He's going to shoot, Wax's instinct said.

"With all due respect," Senator <Maelstrom said>, "you are a new parent and obviously don't know the proper way of raising a child. You don't give into childish demands. You hold firm, knowing that your decisions are best for them, and they will eventually see reason. As a father is to his son, Elendel is to the outer cities."

Right in the back, Wax thought, turning around. Amusing how those instincts worked here. He didn't respond immediately. You waited to aim well for return fire like this. Thing was, he'd made these arguments before, mostly in private, to many of the senators in this room. He was making headway, but he didn't have enough time. Now that he had these letters—now that they'd all seen them—he needed a chance to go back to each senator, the ones on the fence, and share these words, the ideas, and persuade. His gut said that if the vote happened today, the bill would pass. So he hadn't come here just to make the same arguments again. He'd come with a bullet loaded in the chamber, ready to fire.

He carefully folded up the letters and tucked them snugly into his pocket. Then he took the smaller stack, two sheets from his other pocket. The ones that Steris had made copies of in case he forgot. Actually, she probably made copies of the other ones too. And seven other things she knew he wouldn't actually need, but would make her feel better to have her bag, just in case.

Rusts, that woman was delightful.

Wax held up the sheets and made a good show of getting in just the right light to read it.

"Dear <Maelstrom>," he read out loud. "We're pleased by your willingness to see reason and continue to enforce Elendel trade superiority in the Basin. You will make us all wealthy, and we promise you half a percentage of our shipping revenues for the next three years, in exchange for your vocal support of this bill and eventual vote in favor. From, Houses Hasting and Erikell."

The room erupted into chaos, of course. Wax settled in, hooking his finger around his holster, standing and waiting for the cries of outrage to run their course. He met <Maelstrom>'s eyes as the man sank down in his seat. He had hopefully just learned an important lesson: Don't leave a paper trail detailing your corruption when your political opponent is a trained detective.

Rusting idiot.

Footnote: Brandon initially stated that he would be reading chapter 1, but continued reading until some point in chapter 2.

#mistborn #the lost metal #long post #cosmere #brandon sanderson #cfsbf #root #wob

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lumosandnoxwriting · 4 years

Text

Good Girl - George Weasley

Title: Good Girl Pairing: George x female!slytherin!Reader Summary: George has been the reader’s enemy since their first year at Hogwarts together and now, in their final year the universe keeps throwing them together in ways that make the reader question why she ever hated George in the first place. Warnings: NSFW!! Slight Dom!george, begging, slight orgasm denial, thigh riding, oral (Male and female receiving), throat fucking, fingering, masturbation, unprotected sex A/N: The summary is shit but it’s an enemies to lovers slow burn. Seriously this is 22k words I lost control. This is for @those-born-to-fight who wanted some enemies to lovers with a Slytherin reader! There’s two different ~spicy~ scenes and the tiniest touch of angst towards the end. Feedback is always welcome, and requests are open!

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“God, do they ever just shut up?” Y/N grumbles, getting up to slam the door to her compartment closed. Adrian and Marcus laugh at her, but immediately stop when she glares at them, not wanting to face the consequences of annoying Y/N further.

There are very few things that Y/N outright hates. The list of things that mildly annoy her is quite long, but she reserves the word hate for only those special things that make her want to rip her hair out at the mere mention of them. Fred and George Weasley happen to be at the top of that list.

Like most students, Y/N had been enamored by the twins and their antics at first. Despite the fact that many of their practical jokes were aimed at members of her house and Snape, she found them quite funny. She had even thought about befriending the twins, the rivalry between their houses be damned. But after finding herself on the receiving end of a few too many Weasley practical jokes, she had begun to loathe them.

“I don’t know why you let them get under your skin,” Daphne comments, her tone dry and dull. Despite the fact that her eyes haven’t left the copy of Witch Weekly she’s flipping through, Y/N knows she’s been watching her fidget as the Weasley twins got rowdier and rowdier from their compartment down the hall.

“Because they’re, they’re,” Y/N pauses, trying to find the words to describe just how vile the Weasley Twins make her feel. “There isn’t even a word in the English dictionary that perfectly describes how insufferable they are.” She flips Adrian and Marcus off as they laugh at her frustration.

Daphne rolls her eyes and finally puts her magazine down. “You’re so dramatic, Y/N. Just drown them out like everyone else does. Take me, for example. I haven’t heard a thing either of them has said since third year.”

“That’s because they leave you alone, Daph,” Marcus drawls, coming to Y/N’s defense. This isn’t the first time the four of them have had this conversation and it surely will not be the last. “It’s kind of hard to ignore them when they send bludgers at you hard enough to knock your head off of your shoulders.”

“It’s pretty easy to knock someone’s head off of their shoulders when there isn’t anything in it, Marcus,” Daphne teases, pushing his shoulder lightly.

Adrian pretends to throw up at their behavior, causing Marcus to hit him over the head while Y/N laughs. Adrian ends up hitting Marcus back, and the boys hit at each other for a few moments while Daphne rolls her eyes and Y/N eggs them on.

“The contents of Marcus’s head aside,” Adrian says as he plops down next to Y/N, his breathing heavy from wresting Marcus to the ground. “He’s got a point, Daph. You’ve never actually been the victim of a Weasley prank. So, frankly your opinion doesn’t matter.”

Daphne flips Adrian off and picks her magazine up again. “I’m just saying. There are better things for Y/N to focus her attention on than those stupid Weasleys.”

“Yeah, whatever. I’d like to see you ignore them after they charm your shampoo to turn your hair neon yellow. It didn’t go back to normal for weeks!” Adrian laughs at the memory, and Y/N punches him in the thigh. “Watch yourself, Pucey or I’m gonna put yellow dye in your shampoo.”

“Trying to get in the shower with me, are you?” Adrian teases, throwing his arm over Y/N’s shoulder.

“In your dreams,” Y/N responds, picking up the book she had discarded after a particularly loud shout came from one of the Weasley twins.

She can feel Adrian chuckle as she leans into his side. “I’ll see you there.”

Y/N had almost forgotten about the Weasley twins entirely until she feels something hit her in the back of the head during dinner. She picks a piece of mashed potato out of her hair as she turns around, her eyes like daggers as she searches for the culprit. Of course, Fred and George are laughing to themselves, each of them waving at her as they make eye contact.

“Nice to see your hair back to normal, Y/N!” One of them, Fred she thinks, shouts at her.

“Yeah, I reckon if your hair had been yellow any longer you’d have to join Hufflepuff,” the other teases, causing the Gryffindors around them to laugh.

Y/N goes to stand up so she can knock the grins off of their faces, but Adrian puts his hands on her shoulders and forces her to sit back down. “It’s not worth it,” he hisses into her ear. “Not in front of all of the professors. Be smart about your revenge.”

Y/N glares at Adrian, but she relaxes, nonetheless. As much as she hates to admit it, Adrian is right. It’s only the first day back, she doesn’t need to go and get detention and lose Slytherin a bunch of points. Not yet at least.

“Hey Marcus, do me a favor and knock them off their brooms first chance you get.”

“You’re awfully cheery this morning,” Y/N comments to Daphne as they head up the stairs towards the Great Hall.

“What isn’t there to be cheery about? It’s the first day of the school year. Our last school year,” Daphne responds dreamily.

Y/N snorts in laughter, rolling her eyes at her best friend. “Ah yes. The hardest year of school yet, that certainly is something to be happy about.”

“Oh NEWTS? Who cares about those,” Daphne says casually as they enter the Great Hall and head towards the Slytherin table. “You don’t need good grades in school to be a good wife and mother.”

Y/N scoffs, choosing not to say anything. Unlike Daphne and most of the other girls in her house, she plans on actually having a career of her own. It is common for pureblood families to marry off their daughters to the sons of other pureblood families and often times the mark of a good pureblood girl wasn’t her brain, but her ability to stay silent, look pretty and boss around a house elf.

Thankfully, Y/N’s parents hadn’t raised her with the same values. They didn’t believe in the same archaic things most pureblood families did, and they had raised Y/N to have loftier ambitions than to be someone’s wife and a mother. Y/N’s father always joked that she had inherited her mother’s smart mouth, so it would be impossible for them to marry her off anyway.

“Just because you don’t care about your grades doesn’t mean the rest of us don’t. Right, guys?” Y/N asks as they sit down, looking for both Marcus and Adrian to back her up.

“Are you guys on this again?” Adrian asks, rolling his eyes. Much like Y/N’s hatred of the Weasley twins, Daphne failing to take school seriously was a frequent topic of conversation in their friend group.

“No need to get your panties in a twist, Pucey,” Y/N teases as she grabs some toast. “Daph is free to sit back and spend her last year of school doing nothing, but I on the other hand plan on actually doing good on my NEWTS. So, feel free to slack off with her, or study with me, I don’t really care.”

Marcus chuckles at Y/N’s attitude. “Damn, Y/N tell us how you really feel.”

Y/N chucks a piece of toast at Marcus’s head before she reaches for her bag. “Oh, I almost forgot, I’ve got all of your schedules.” She reaches into her bag and pulls out a small stack of papers, handing their designated paper to each friend.

“Wow, slacking on your Head Girl duties already and it’s only the first day of term,” Adrian teases with an easy smile.

Y/N flicks his ear. “You’re just jealous that you didn’t make Head Boy.”

Adrian rolls his eyes as he scans over the piece of paper. “Me? An administrative stick in the mud? I don’t think so.”

“Nah mate, you just were looking forward to spending hours alone with Y/N,” Marcus teases, causing both Y/N and Adrian to throw pieces of muffin at him.

“Moving on,” Daphne drawls, clearly tired of their antics. “What’s everyone got first lesson? I’ve got divination.”

When both Marcus and Adrian announce they have Arithmancy, Y/N frowns. “Guess I’ll be heading to Potions alone then.”

As Y/N heads down to Potions after breakfast she can feel her mood sinking. Potions is one of her favorite classes, and not just because Snape tends to favor Slytherins. She finds the art of Potions fascinating, and each lesson always tests the bounds of her knowledge. But class is always more enjoyable with her friends around.

Her mood only worsens as the Weasley Twins fall into step beside her, one on each side.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here, Georgie?” the twin on the left, who is obviously Fred, says playfully.

“Looks like little Y/N is heading to potions, Freddie,” George responds, lightly knocking into her shoulder.

Y/N stumbles on the step despite the light touch. Both Fred and George have a good six inches on her, and their time as beaters on the Gryffindor team has obviously left them both toned and muscular.

“And without her little gang of friends, what a shock,” Fred adds with a laugh as Y/N finds her balance.

“Friends? What friends?,” George teases.

When they reach the bottom of the stairs, Y/N glares at each of them. “You two dimwits are in NEWT level potions? Snape must have lowered his standards.”

“Oh Y/N how you wound us,” George gasps, clutching his chest.

Y/N rolls her eyes as they enter the Potions classroom, determined not to let the twins bother her. Daphne did have a point on the train yesterday, there were other things she needed to focus on besides the twins and their stupid games.

She takes her usual seat at the front of the classroom, expecting the twins to slink to the back of the class, far away from Snape’s prying eyes. Her fist automatically clenches when they slide into the seats directly behind her, her nostrils flaring.

This year certainly is going to be the hardest yet, and not just because of the rigorous coursework, Y/N thinks to herself as Snape begins class.

“You look, how do I put this nicely.” Marcus pauses. “Flustered.”

Y/N glares at him as she flops down next to Daphne. Potions had been an absolute disaster. She could hardly focus on her Memory Potion, too busy picking out the Jobberknoll Feathers the Weasley Twins kept putting in her hair. She had managed to make something barely acceptable, and Snape’s disappointment was evident.

“Screw off, Marcus. I just spent an hour dealing with Dimwit 1 and Dimwit 2 standing behind me doing everything in their power to piss me off. So, unless you wanna end up with your head in one of those pots and dragon dung fertilizer up to your ears, shut your mouth.”

Daphne laughs at Y/N’s outburst. “I told you just to ignore them, Y/N. Although dragon dung fertilizer up to the ears does sound like the perfect revenge plan. Not that I’m condoning letting someone, or someones, get under your skin so badly that you need revenge,” she pauses, winking at Y/N. “But if I were I think that would be the way to go.”

Before Y/N can get too lost in the thought of burying Fred and George in Dragon Dung Professor Sprout is entering the Greenhouse and starting class. But she definitely pushes the idea to the back of her mind for future consideration.

“I’m going to fling myself off the top of the astronomy tower,” Y/N announces as she collapses next to Daphne in the common room. After her short break from the Weasley Twins in Herbology, Y/N had to suffer through a double transfiguration and a charms lesson with them both sitting too close for comfort.

“Could you at least wait until it’s closer to the end of term? We could probably get an extra week off at the Christmas holiday,” Adrian says, not even bothering to look up from the Quidditch playbook in his lap.

Y/N groans, putting her head in her hands. “I need better friends, none of you are sympathetic of my suffering.”

“If you need sympathy go hang out with some Hufflepuffs,” Daphne tells her, throwing her arm around Y/N’s shoulder. “What did the twins do this time?”

Instead of answering Y/N reaches for her bag and pulls out her charms book, handing it over to Daphne. “Go ahead. Try and open it.”

Daphne gives her a look as she cautiously takes it from her hands. She shares a look with Marcus and Adrian, who were finally intrigued enough to pay attention, before she slowly opens it. As soon as it falls open there’s a whizzing noise followed by loud pops as a mini firework show starts to go off. Daphne squeals and quickly shuts the book, her eyes wide.

“What in the hell was that?” she asks, tossing it back to Y/N.

“Whatever it was it was kinda cool. Open it again,” Marcus says with a laugh.

Y/N glares at him and shoves the book back in her bag. “Fred and George did something to it, obviously. It scared the shit out of me when I opened it in class. Flitwick took 30 points! 20 for the interruption it caused and 10 for the curse word I yelled.”

Adrian and Marcus erupt in a fit of hysterics as they imagine the scene it must have caused, and Y/N gets up so she can beat both of them with a pillow. They both pick up their own pillows to retaliate, and the three of them spend the next several minutes hitting each other. It only ends when a spare pillow ends up flying over and smacking Pansy Parkinson in the back of the head, causing all four of them to collapse in fits of laughter.

Y/N is the first to calm down, wiping a few stray tears from her eyes. “Oh, that was absolutely incredible. Just what I needed.” As the rest of her friends pull themselves together Y/N grabs her bag. “Come on, let’s go to dinner. I wanna catch Dimwit 1 and Dimwit 2 so I can make them fix my stupid book.”

When the four of them arrive at the Great Hall Daphne, Marcus and Adrian head towards the Slytherin table, while Y/N makes a beeline towards the Gryffindor table. “Oi! Weasley!” When three red heads whip around to look at Y/N she sighs. Only one of the twins is sitting at the table, and it’s a 50/50 chance she gets it right, so she decides to just take a guess at which one it is. “George!”

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” George asks as Y/N reaches the table.

She smiles to herself, proud that she had gotten it right. Y/N had never taken the time to learn the differences between the two, but now that she’s examining George she can tell that his eyes are softer, like there’s some reservation behind them. She takes out her charms textbook and places it on the table in front of him.

“Fix it,” she demands.

“Fix what?” he asks coyly, a mischievous smile on his face.

Y/N clenches her fist and takes a deep breath, trying to keep her composure. “Don’t play stupid, Weasley. Just fix my book.”

George laughs. “Who said I’m playing stupid? You’re the one that called me a dimwit earlier, and you’re right. I am a dimwit.”

Their exchange has caught the attention of the Gryffindors sitting around them, and they’re all watching Y/N intently, smiles playing at the corners of their mouths.

“Look, your stupid little prank has already served its purpose. It scared me and I lost Slytherin some points. Just fix the damn thing, will you?” Y/N is starting to get desperate, but she doesn’t let it show. She keeps her expression blank, not wanting George to know how truly bothered she is.

“I don’t know. Maybe I would be more inclined to fix it if you asked me nicely, Y/N,” his tone is teasing, so much so it almost sounds condescending. The students sitting around them laugh lightly, waiting to see what Y/N does next.

Y/N grits her teeth, weighing her options in her head. She could stand here and nicely ask George to fix her book, or she could walk away and send an owl home to have her parents send her a new one. And even though she is tempted to just take the easy way out, she’ll be damned if she lets a Weasley twin get one over on her.

She takes a deep breath and plasters a sickeningly sweet, fake smile on her face. “George, would you please fix my Charms book?”

A look of surprise quickly crosses George’s face, before he replaces it with an easy smile. “Of course, Y/N. Thank you so much for being a good girl and asking nicely.” The Gryffindor table is basically in full on hysterics by now, and Y/N can feel her cheeks heating up. As soon as George has pressed his wand to her book and muttered the countercharm she snatches it off the table.

“Thanks so much, George,” she forces out, before she turns to head over to the Slytherin table. “Fucking prick.”

She sits down between Adrian and Draco Malfoy with a huff, already trying to figure out what her revenge will be. The conversation she’d had with Marcus and Daphne in Herbology pops back into her head and a wicked smile forms on her face.

“Why couldn’t you get Daphne to do this? It’s freezing out here,” Adrian whispers as he shivers.

Y/N rolls her eyes as they tiptoe through the greenhouse. “And you lot call me dramatic.” They both freeze in place when they hear a creek, but when no other noise comes they continue on. “Daphne Greengrass, awake past 10 pm? Ms. Beauty sleep is a nightmare if she doesn’t get a full 8 hours, you know that.”

When they reach the container Professor Sprout keeps the Dragon Dung fertilizer in she turns to Adrian, giving him a mischievous grin. “Besides, you know you’d regret it if you didn’t come with me. Now quick, hand me the bags.”

After they get the required materials from the Greenhouse, she and Adrian quietly sneak back in the castle and head up towards the Owlery. It takes them longer than anticipated, since they have to keep ducking behind statues and into classrooms to avoid Filch and Mrs. Norris, but eventually they make it. They both sigh in relief when they return to the common room 30 minutes later, the final part of Y/N’s plan in place for the morning.

“You kind of amaze me, you know that?” Adrian says with a laugh as they both head towards the staircases that lead to their dorms.

Y/N chuckles and shakes her head. “You’re only nice to me so you don’t end up on the end of one of my revenge plans.”

The next morning Y/N is up bright and early, her body practically vibrating with excitement. Despite the fact that the Weasley Twins have been pulling pranks on her since first year, this is the first time she’s decided to retaliate.

She could deal with most of their antics. Locking her in the toilets, charming her shampoo, hitting her with snowballs and every other little trick or joke they pulled, Y/N could just grin and bear it. But having to stand in the middle of the Great Hall and practically beg George to fix her book was her tipping point. She can practically still hear him calling her a good girl and it causes a shiver to run down her spine. After today Fred and George will certain think twice about messing with her.

“Hurry up!” she urges her friends as she races to the top of the stairs. The owl post will be arriving in a few minutes, and there is no way she’s missing the big show. Adrian picks up his pace to meet her, but Daphne and Marcus continue up the stairs slowly, caught up in conversation. “You lot are hopeless.”

Y/N practically skips into the Great Hall and after sitting down where she knows she’ll have the perfect view of what’s about to happen she rubs her hands together. Daphne and Marcus give her a confused look as they sit down across from her and Adrian, who thankfully shares her excitement.

“What has gotten into you, Y/N, you look like you’re about to jump out of your skin,” Daphne comments, sounding slightly concerned that her friend may have gone mad.

As the first few owls start to fly in, Y/N grins and gestures towards the Gryffindor table. “Shush, shush. Just look over there and you’ll find out.”

Y/N holds her breath as two familiar owls fly in, each of them holding a package. They soar towards the Gryffindor table, and instead of gracefully dropping their parcels in front of their recipients they drop them a few moments early. The brown paper bags explode as they hit Fred and George at the same time, Dragon Dung Fertilizer pouring down their heads and onto their shoulders and laps.

The entire Great Hall is silent for a moment, before nearly every student bursts into laughter. The most noise comes from the Slytherin table, and Y/N’s chest swells with pride. Adrian pats her on the back as Daphne and Marcus turn back to congratulate her on a prank well done.

Y/N can’t stop looking at the Twins, and her breath catches in her throat when they return her gaze. She sends them both a wink and a wave, giggles still falling from her lips.

“You think you’re hilarious, don’t you?” George asks Y/N as he and his brother slide into the seats behind her and Daphne in Defense Against the Dark Arts that afternoon. She hasn’t seen either of them since they left the Great Hall to get cleaned up, but at lunch Astoria informed her that Ginny Weasley had told her that both boys were quite annoyed.

Y/N laughs but doesn’t turn around to look at either of them. “Nice to see you boys managed to clean up.”

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Y/N,” Fred says, leaning forward in his seat to ensure Y/N hears him.

She rolls her eyes, but still doesn’t look back at them. “What? You can’t take what you dish out? I thought you two were tougher than that.” Daphne nudges Y/N, gesturing to the front of the classroom where Professor Umbridge is now standing, clearly telling her to knock it off with the twins.

“Oh, it’s on. You have no idea what you’ve started,” George whispers at her. She imagines that he’s trying to sound threatening, but she can hear the smile in his voice.

As Professor Umbridge starts rambling on about her expectations, Y/N turns to face the twins. “Bring it on, bitch.”

“No magic? No practical lessons? She was joking, right?” Y/N rambles as they head towards the Great Hall for dinner. They’ve all just come from a dreadful Defense Against the Dark Arts class, where Professor Umbridge had made it very clear that they’d be spending the year doing nothing but reading from their textbooks.

Daphne rolls her eyes. “Frankly I don’t see what the big deal is. She’s not wrong, our Defense Against the Dark Arts classes have been all over the place. I think it’s a good thing that we’re finally going to have some structure and unity.”

Y/N groans, looking to Adrian and Marcus for support. She frowns when they both refuse to meet her gaze. “That’s because you don’t care about doing good on your NEWTS. You don’t need an O on your exams to marry Marcus or whoever your parents have picked out for you to be with after graduation,” she spits.

Before Daphne has the chance to pick her jaw up off of the ground and respond, Y/N is turning around and heading away from her friends, needing to be alone.

“Are you alright?”

Y/N picks her head up from where she had buried it in her arms, surprised to see Ginny Weasley standing in front of her. She nods as she uncurls her body, stretching it out slightly. She had taken refuge on a random bench in one of the corridors and after sitting on the stone for a few hours her body has begun to ache. She moves down the bench a little and gestures for Ginny to take a seat.

While the Weasley Twins are Y/N’s least favorite people in the world, she actually doesn’t mind their siblings. She had gotten to know Percy quite well, since they had been Prefects together for a year before he had become Head Boy, and he had helped her out on quite a few transfiguration assignments during her OWL year. All she knows about Ron are the things Draco has said, but she doubts that anything that comes from his mouth is true. She’s never had a conversation with Ginny, but Daphne’s younger sister Astoria is quite friendly with her, so if she’s willing to befriend a Slytherin she’s alright in Y/N’s book.

“You seemed pretty angry earlier, before dinner. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Y/N fidgets with her school robes as her cheeks flush, she had been hoping that no one had witnessed her outburst. She had heard too often that Slytherins were mean and evil, so she always did her best to contain her emotions around others, not wanting to perpetuate the stereotype even further.

“You saw that then?” When Ginny nods she sighs. “It’s just been a frustrating few days and I love my friends, but they don’t always get it. That stupid Umbridge is really going to screw me over this year and I can’t fail now. Not when I’ve spent the last seven years working my ass off.”

“I’m really sorry, Y/N that sounds awful. There’s going to be this, thing. A meeting or whatever. Next weekend during the first Hogsmeade trip,” Ginny pauses so she can tuck a piece of parchment into her hand. “Stop by, it might be, uh helpful to you.” With a warm smile and a pat on the shoulder Ginny leaves Y/N alone.

With a heavy sigh Y/N starts to head to the common room. She uncurls the piece of paper Ginny had handed her, fearful that this might be some elaborate set up for one of her brother’s tricks.

Hogshead Inn, 12 pm, is all the paper reads in neat handwriting that Y/N doesn’t recognize. She shoves the piece of parchment into her pocket as she reaches the dungeons, trying to decide whether or not to go.

The rest of the week and the next pass by slowly much to Y/N’s dismay. Things between her, Marcus and Adrian returned to somewhat normal, but Daphne is still refusing to speak to her. No matter how many times Y/N apologized Daphne just kept ignoring her. The fact that the Weasley Twins were lurking behind every corner just pushed Y/N closer to the edge, so by the time Saturday arrived Y/N didn’t care if the note Ginny had slipped her the previous week was the bait for an elaborate prank. She just needed some sort of human interaction.

Due to her and Daphne’s still strained relationship and the first Slytherin Quidditch practice of the school year, Y/N is all alone as she heads to Hogsmeade. Normally she’d not even bother going if her friends didn’t accompany her, but her lack of company makes it easier for her to slip down the forgotten path that leads to the Hogshead Inn.

She looks the dim building up and down as she approaches, grimacing at its appearance. Adrian and Marcus had tried to convince her and Daphne to enter the pub with them during one of their first trips to the little village on the outskirts of Hogwarts, but the girls had overpowered them, and dragged them into Honeydukes instead.

She pauses briefly at the entrance, trying to prepare for the things that could be waiting for her on the other side. She enters through the door slowly, her eyes widening in surprise at the scene she’s met with. It certainly is not what she had expected. Harry Potter, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger are sitting in front of the unlit fireplace, with more than a dozen chairs facing them. Some are empty, while others are taken up by students that Y/N vaguely recognizes. Ginny gives her a wave when they make eye contact, motioning for her to take a seat.

Y/N sits down in a seat towards the back and fidgets with the sleeves of her jumper. She’s relaxed slightly since she entered, this clearly wasn’t some elaborate prank set up by Fred and George, but she’s still unsure of what she just walked in to.

“What are you doing here?” Comes a voice from behind her, causing Y/N’s shoulders to tense up. She turns around only to be met with Fred and George.

“Come to spy on us, Head Girl? Want to get all of our secrets and then run off to the greaseball you call Head of House to tattle on us?” Fred sneers as he and George push past her to take the seats in front of her.

Y/N rolls her eyes and crosses her arms. “Clearly I’m here for the same reasons you are, moron. If I was spying on you why would I just be sitting here out in the open?”

Truly, Y/N has no idea what she’s doing there, Ginny had been extremely vague. All she knows is that this meeting will somehow make dealing with Umbridge better, and after the awful start to term she’s had Y/N is willing to do anything at this point.

Before either Fred or George can respond, Hermione is urging everyone to take a seat so they can begin.

45 minutes later Y/N is standing behind Fred and George, waiting her turn to sign the paper that will make her an official member of Dumbledore’s Army. Y/N was skeptical at first about getting involved in whatever Harry and Hermione had cooked up. But as Harry talked more, about needing real, practical knowledge Y/N couldn’t help but agree. She had always been so focused on school and her future career that she never even considered what lay waiting for them outside of Hogwarts’ protective walls.

Y/N hadn’t known Cedric well. A conversation or two during Prefect duties, idle pleasantries in the hall, but that was it. But she had spent much of her summer vacation thinking about him, and about what Dumbledore had said about his death. While her friends and many of her housemates thought Dumbledore was an old crack pot, Y/N trusted and believed him. Her parents did as well, and they had talked about the first wizarding war with her over dinner on several different occasions.

As she listened to Harry talk about what he had seen and what he has already dealt with, Y/N knew that she needed to be a part of whatever he was planning. Being able to get some practice with actual defensive magic would surely help her when it came to end of the year exams, but if they truly were getting ready for another war, it may just help save her life.

As she heads back towards school, she can’t help but think about a conversation she’d had with her father not too long before the school year started again. He had reminded her that she had been placed in Slytherin house because of her ambitions in life, and her willingness to do whatever it takes to get there. Before he had kissed her goodnight he told her that it wasn’t always what you know, but who you know and that the people she surrounded herself with was just as important as focusing on her studies.

At first she had scoffed at his thinly veiled digs at her friends. Y/N has been friends with Marcus, Daphne and Adrian since first year, and she had never felt the need to expand her circle. Her parents were quite familiar with the families her friends came from, and the values they held. She knew that her parents didn’t exactly like her friends but were still supportive of Y/N and the relationship she formed with them.

But now, after seeing how badly the Daily Prophet was slandering both Dumbledore and Harry and hearing directly from Harry what he’d been through, Y/N understands what her father was saying. The Greengrass’ and Flint’s had been suspected Death Eaters all those years ago and its likely members of Adrian’s family had ties to Voldemort as well. Her father had been encouraging her to seek out new friendships to try and protect her from the Dark Arts that seemed very attractive to members of Slytherin house.

She’s so lost in thought that she doesn’t hear the Weasley Twins coming up behind her until they’re knocking into her shoulders as they pass by. She flips them off behind their backs, trying to ignore their chuckling.

“I can’t believe I just signed up to spend even more time with those twats,” she mumbles to herself as the castle comes into view. While she doesn’t mind having Harry, Hermione, Ron and Ginny on her side, she plans on staying as far away from the Weasley Twins as possible.

That night at dinner Y/N is listening to Adrian and Marcus bicker over what drills to run during their next practice when her mouth starts to tingle. Her eyes widen when she takes another sip of pumpkin juice and the sensation only gets worse. Adrian and Marcus give her a concerned look as she begins to fidget and from the corner of her eye Y/N can see that Daphne is watching as well.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Adrian asks as Y/N slaps her hands over her mouth.

Except she can’t respond. Her tongue has started to swell in her mouth so much so that it’s trying to force its way past her lips. It feels like it weighs a ton and as the pain increases she has no choice but to let it slowly seep out of her mouth.

“What’s the matter, Y/N?” she hears George shout from the Gryffindor table, causing groups of students to look over at her. She’s desperately trying to contain her growing tongue as she gets up to head to the Hospital Wing.

“Cat got your tongue?” she can hear Fred call behind her, nearly drowned out by the peeling laughter coming from the Great Hall.

When she gets back to the common room that night, Y/N is expecting it to be empty. But when she’s barely closed the door behind her a mess of black curls takes over her vision and arms wrap around her tightly.

“Oh, thank Merlin you’re alright. I thought you would have been back ages ago. What happened?” Daphne asks as she lets go. She leads Y/N over to a set of couches in the corner, where Adrian and Marcus are waiting for them.

Adrian pulls her down next to him and Daphne sits so close to Y/N on the other side that she’s practically in her lap. “Would you all stop fussing? I’m fine, honest,” she says with a reassuring laugh. While Y/N is fine, she can’t help but lean into Adrian’s side, feeling relieved that things are back to normal between the four of them.

“Let me guess, Weasley Twin revenge?” Marcus asks.

Y/N nods, smiling when Daphne curses them under her breath. “A creation they like to call Ton-Tongue Toffees. They must have managed to get it into my goblet or something, so it melted into my pumpkin juice. It took ages to get the swelling to go down but Madam Pomfrey managed it. I’ve just spent the last 45 minutes listening to Snape try and get the maximum punishment for them.”

Y/N knows that not many people like Snape, that it’s really only Slytherins that appreciate him. It’s no secret that he favors his house almost unfairly so, but she doesn’t really mind it when he’s advocating for them. The twins had technically poisoned her, which is something Snape had pointed out when McGonagall suggested only taking points away from the boys for a “harmless” prank. Snape had managed to negotiate on Y/N’s behalf, and the boys will now be serving a week’s detention with Snape.

“So, what are you gonna do to get back at them?” Daphne asks, causing all three of them to give her a look. “What?”

“What happened to all that crap about just ignoring them?” Marcus teases.

Daphne rolls her eyes. “To hell with all that. They want a prank war? Well then let’s show them what being a Slytherin is all about.”

By the time Monday morning rolls around Y/N is in such a good mood that she practically skips down the stairs to Potions. The fake Galleon Ginny had slipped her during lunch yesterday had burned red this morning, letting Y/N know that the DA’s first official meeting would be taking place this Thursday. So not only was she going to get some real defensive magic training, but after the Twin’s prank on Saturday evening her and Daphne were able to properly make up and she had her friends back.

She bites her lip as the twins fall in step beside her once again, determined not to let their presence ruin her mood.

“How’s your tongue feeling this morning?” Fred asks from her right side.

“Any bloating? Tingling? Lasting side effects?” George teases from her left side.

Y/N shakes her head and chuckles. “It’s okay boys, go ahead and make your jokes. I want you to remember how good you feel now, because once I’ve gotten you back you’ll wish you’d never messed with me.”

She can hear them both laugh as they enter the Potions class and take their respective seats. “Really? Already planning your next late-night trip into the greenhouses?” George muses.

Y/N turns in her seat so she can look each of them in the eyes. “Oh, you poor, sweet, boys,” she mocks. “When I’m done with you the dragon dung fertilizer you took to the head will seem like a shower of rose petals.” She gives them a sly wink, and turns back around, their shocked expressions still dancing around in her brain.

“So, you figured out what you’re going to do them, then?” Daphne asks excitedly after Y/N has finished recounting her conversation with Fred and George to her and Marcus in Herbology. Professor Sprout has tasked them with dissecting Shrivelfigs, so the three of them can talk freely. Even though her and her friends had spent most of Sunday trying to concoct the perfect revenge plan they had come up with nothing that was quite right.

“I guess you could say that.” When Marcus and Daphne give her questioning looks she giggles. “I’m not going to actually do anything to them.” When they both still look confused she rolls her eyes. “I’m just going to let them think that something big is coming. That way they’re always on edge when I’m around, always looking over their shoulders, waiting for some huge prank to befall them. It’ll drive them bonkers trying to figure out when and where it’s gonna happen.”

Marcus gives Y/N a look of appreciation. “Damn, that’s pretty brilliant, Y/N.”

Y/N bows at his praise, causing Daphne to chuckle. “What they got this morning is just a taste of what I have planned for tonight.”

Y/N sneaks out of the common room that night, not too long after dinner. She knows that Fred and George will be serving detention with Snape and that it’s the perfect opportunity to mess with them.

When she reaches the Potions classroom she pauses just outside the door to ensure that Snape isn’t actually still in the room with the boys. When all she can hear is the clatter of cauldrons and Fred and George’s soft voices, she decides to go for it.

“Excuse me, Professor?” Y/N asks innocently as she enters the classroom. “Oh, boys! What a treat, seeing you down in our ends this late at night.” Y/N walks further into the classroom and she can’t help but smile as the twins start to fidget.

“What are you doing here, Y/N?” Fred asks, eyeing her warily.

She puts the most innocent look on her face as she can, blinking up at the two of them. “I’m looking for Professor Snape. Is he around?”

“No, he left us alone quite a bit ago,” George responds. Y/N can tell he’s trying to hide how nervous he sounds. Fred seems like the one to never back down, so Y/N switches her tactic slightly. She starts to walk closer to George and she has to bite her lip to keep the smile off her face as he tries to subtly move away from her.

“That’s a shame. I have a question I need to ask him.” Y/N leans against the table, moving that much closer to George. “Did he say when he was going to be back?”

“He didn’t,” Fred answers, making direct eye contact with Y/N. She returns his gaze, not backing down until he looks away from her.

Feeling accomplished Y/N smacks the table with her palm and stands back up. “Well I guess I’ll leave you boys to it.” She heads towards the door. “Have fun.” With one final wink she’s out the door, laughing to herself as she goes.

Before Y/N knows it, Thursday has already arrived. She tries her best to contain her excitement, but as the first DA meeting approaches it’s getting harder and harder. She feels bad for not telling her friends about what she’s involved in, but she knows it’s for the better. They certainly wouldn’t approve of the unofficial club, and she doesn’t want to chance that they’ll blow the whole operation in to Umbridge.

“I’ll see you guys later,” Y/N says with a wave as she heads to leave the common room. She told the others she had some Head Girl duties to take care of so they wouldn’t try and come with her when she left.

As she heads towards the room of requirement Y/N takes the time to glance over her shoulder every once in a while to make sure no one is following her. She had been the only Slytherin in attendance at the Hogshead Inn, and she doesn’t need to be trusted even less by bringing unwanted guests with her.

When she finally enters the room of requirement it’s a bit crowded, but she can tell that not everyone has arrived yet. Ginny waves at Y/N, motioning for her to come and join her and Hermione. She’s silently thankful for her invitation so she doesn’t have to stand there by herself and goes to join the two girls.

“Hey, Ginny. Granger,” she greets them both with an awkward wave. She doesn’t know much about Hermione, again, having only heard about her from Draco. She’s had to interact with her a few times due to Hermione being a prefect, but for some odd reason she trusts Ginny, so she figures that Hermione is alright to hang out with.

“Y/N I’m really glad you decided to join. Not only is it probably helpful to have the Head Girl on our side, it’s also really nice to have some house diversity,” Hermione says with a genuine smile.

Y/N can feel her cheeks start to heat up, so she clears her throat, giving her a moment to regain her composure. “Thanks, Hermione. I never really understood it, all of the house rivalry mumbo jumbo. I’m just supposed to automatically hate you because some hat put you in one house over another? Seems silly to me.”

She hears someone scoff behind her, and she turns to see George standing behind her, his arms crossed over his chest. “What? Got a problem, Weasley?”

“That’s real big talk considering the fact that you’ve had some grudge against me and Fred since first year, Y/N,” he says, looking at her curiously.

“I don’t hate you and Fred because you’re Gryffindors,” she explains with an eye roll. “I hate you because you’re ungodly annoying.” She bites her lip, allowing herself to look him up and down. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, and Y/N can’t deny that his arms look downright filthy. She had never truly looked at George, he was quieter than Fred, so he didn’t quite capture her attention like his brother had. But now that he’s standing over her, she can’t deny that he’s attractive. He is most certainly her mortal enemy, but he’s an attractive enemy at least.

“If anything, you and Fred are the ones who started our rivalry,” she continues a moment later when her eyes meet his again. “You locked me in the girl’s bathroom with Moaning Myrtle for three hours on the second day of school, remember?”

“Oh yeah,” George says with a laugh. “Forgot about that.”

Y/N rolls her eyes, turning her attention to Harry as he starts the meeting. He decides to start with something basic but effective, disarming. Y/N could disarm any witch or wizard in her sleep, but not everyone there is at the same skill level, so she’s willing to get some practice in.

They start to break up into pairs and Y/N looks around, trying to find someone, anyone to work with. Of course, George is with Fred, Ginny is already working with a Ravenclaw Y/N thinks is named Luna, and Hermione is with Ron. She ends up locking eyes with Neville Longbottom and she motions for him to come join her.

“I’ll work with you Neville.”

He gives her an appreciative smile, and as he crosses the room George nudges him. “Watch out for her Neville. You never know what she might be up to, this could all be a big ploy to take out the entire Gryffindor house.”

Y/N flips him off, giving Neville a warm smile. “Just ignore him, he’s an idiot.” They both take their stance, wands at the ready. She has heard Draco and his cronies make fun of Neville for hours on end, so she’s not really expecting much to happen.

When Neville waves his wand and shouts Expelliarmus, his own wand flies out of his hand and clatters to the floor at Y/N’s feet. His cheeks turn a bright red, and Y/N can practically feel how embarrassed he is. He looks at her expectantly, like he’s waiting for her to laugh and say something rude.

She sends him a smile and grabs his wand. “That was a really good try, Neville. The first time I tried to disarm someone I nearly blinded Professor Quirrell when my wand shot out of my hand and flew across the room,” she reassures him with a laugh. When Neville laughs too she hands him his wand back. “Here, try moving your wand like this.” She shows him the proper wand movement before she takes her place again. “Ready?”

Two hours later when Y/N is heading back towards the Slytherin common room, she feels accomplished. Neville had managed to get her wand to wiggle in her grip by the end of it, and she could tell he was proud of himself.

Y/N is thinking about all the homework she has to do tonight when someone falls into step beside her. “Alright, give it up, what’s your deal?”

She looks up at George before she examines the rest of the hallway. “Where’s your brother? I thought you two did everything together.”

“He’s down in the kitchens getting food, not that it’s any of your business,” he adds quickly. “And stop dodging the question. What’s your deal?”

She rolls her eyes and stops walking. “I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about.” George turns to face her, crossing his arms over his chest. She mirrors his stance, looking up at him.

“Don’t play stupid. You know what I’m talking about.”

Y/N sighs, rolling her eyes again. “So, what because I’m a Slytherin I can’t participate in clandestine clubs? Your sister is the one who invited me to that meeting, so go and ask her why she did it. All I did was show up. I liked what Harry said and since Umbridge isn’t doing anything to help us with NEWTS I signed up. That’s it.”

George doesn’t respond immediately, instead he studies Y/N’s face, trying to see if she’s lying. He goes to say something when someone interrupts them.

“Mr. Weasley! Ms. Y/L/N!” They both jump as Professor McGonagall comes down the hall towards them. “What are you two doing out past curfew?” Y/N and George look to each other with a worried glance, not entirely sure what to say. “Never mind the reason, you shouldn’t be out of your common rooms at this hour. I’ll have 15 points from each of your houses and I’ll see you both in detention tomorrow evening!”

Y/N gives George one last glare before she stalks all the way back to her common room.

“What exactly were you doing standing in a hallway with George Weasley past curfew anyway?” Daphne asks Y/N the next day at lunch.

Daphne had just finished explaining the evening she had planned out for them when Y/N informed her that she’d be stuck in detention with George for the beginning portion of their girl’s night.

Y/N shrugs, trying to act casual. “I finished up my Head Girl stuff and was going back to the common room when I saw him sneaking around. I followed him, figuring I could catch him doing something. I confronted him and McGonagall saw us and gave us detention.”

“Maybe that was his plan all along, maybe he was trying to get you in trouble,” Daphne suggests.

“Yeah but he got in trouble too, Daph,” Y/N reminds her with a laugh.

The other girl shrugs, taking a bite of her Yorkshire pudding. “I didn’t say it was a smart plan.” Marcus and Adrian arrive then, taking their respective seats next to the girls.

“Who didn’t have a smart plan?” Marcus asks as he starts to pile food on his plate.

“George Weasley,” Y/N answers, batting away Adrian’s hand as he tries to steal her roll. “I caught him sneaking around one of the hallways after curfew and McGonagall rolled up on us and gave us detention.”

“Detention? On a Friday night? What about our hot date?” Adrian teases, making another attempt at stealing her roll.

Y/N flips him off and lets him have it. “The only hot date you’re going to have tonight is your right hand.”

Y/N groans as she picks up another teapot to clean. Her and George have been serving their detention in complete silence for twenty minutes and her brain feels like it’s going to mush. “Is detention always this boring?” she asks, not really expecting George to respond.

“No. But mostly because I’m usually with Fred, not you,” George replies dully.

“Oh, how you wound me, George,” she responds, mocking the tone he had used with her on the first day of term.

They work together in silence for a few minutes before George puts down the teapot he had been scrubbing and tosses his rag to the side. “So, I asked Ginny,” he says, turning to look at Y/N.

Y/N gives him a look as she turns to face him as well, discarding what she had been doing. “Asked Ginny what?”

George rolls his eyes at her, clearly annoyed that Y/N had forgotten the conversation they had in the hall the previous night. “Why she told you about the meeting at the Hogshead, about Dumbledore’s Army.”

“Oh,” she responds softly. When she had said that to George last night she hadn’t expected him to actually ask, she was just trying to get him to leave her alone. “And what did she say?” George gives her a look, causing Y/N to roll her eyes. “Fine, don’t tell me. You’re the one that brought it up.”

George chuckles at her frustration. “Aw come on, I’m just kidding.” He pauses. “She said that Astoria Greengrass talks about you a ton, about how you’re different than other Slytherins. She said something about how you got into a fight with your friends, and she decided that if she talked to you and you were cool enough, she would invite you.”

“So, I’ve got the Ginny Weasley stamp of approval? I’m honored,” she says with a laugh, her surprise evident in her tone. “Does that make me alright then? Since I’m different than other Slytherins? Whatever that means.”

George shrugs his shoulders. “I think I know what she means.” When Y/N raises an eyebrow at him he continues. “Oh, come on don’t act like you don’t know it. You’re nice.”

Y/N scoffs, lightly shoving his arm. “Slytherins being mean is just a stereotype, George. Tons of the people in my house are nice. Daphne is nice, and so are Marcus and Adrian.”

“Cut the crap, Y/N,” he chides. “Daphne, Marcus and Adrian are nice to you and the other members of your house because you all share that in common. But you’re nice to, well most people honestly. Everyone even, except maybe me and Fred. But we aren’t nice to you either, so I understand it.”

Y/N opens her mouth to respond, but George puts his hand up to stop her. “Take yesterday, for example. I saw you, with Neville. The way you made him feel better about his failure, how you encouraged him and helped him improve. Daphne or Marcus or any other Slytherin wouldn’t have done that. They’d have laughed in his face and you know it.”

“I guess you’re right,” she admits softly, a slight blush on her cheeks from George’s kind words.

“So, you’re so worried about your NEWTs that you’re willing to spend hours practicing a spell you mastered in 2nd year? Thought you were top of our class?” he teases.

Y/N plays with her fingers and fidgets in her seat. She knows the question is innocent, but it feels like George can see right into her soul. That’s he looking at all her worst fears. “I am, yeah. I need at least an Exceeds Expectations on my defense against the dark arts NEWT to be a Healer and I’ve already worked so hard, I can’t screw it up now, not when I’m this close.”

George is silent for a moment and he turns in his chair so he’s fully facing Y/N. When she does the same he speaks. “I didn’t know you want to be a healer.”

Y/N rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Weasley. What is it you said? I’m not nice to you and you’re not nice to me. It’s always been that way.”

“Yeah I guess so,” he admits. “I never imagined you as a Healer, if I’m honest. But I think you’ll be amazing at it.”

Y/N blushes and looks down. “Thanks, I appreciate it. That’s all I’ve ever wanted to be, since I was a little kid. I used to pretend to Heal my dolls all the time. My parents even gave me a muggle doctors coat for Christmas once, I wore it like, every day,” she reminisces with a laugh.

George laughs along with her. “I fear that I may have seriously misjudged you, Y/N.”

“What do you mean?” she asks, lightly shoving his shoulder.

George blushes and Y/N finds it endearing. “I figured you and your family were like the other pureblood Slytherin dynasties. That you cared about your grades to make you a more appealing bride or something.”

Y/N nods in understanding. “Yeah I don’t blame you on that one. That’s what most people think. My parents were raised like that and they hated it. All the stupid rules, the lack of freedom. They’re lucky, they were able to find genuine love with each other. And they’re still so in love, it’s actually pretty sickening,” she says with a laugh. “But they agreed that when they had kids they wouldn’t raise them like that. That they’d let them think for themselves, find their own way in life. It’s been so hard, not to send an owl to my dad and tell him all about Dumbledore’s Army.”

“Really? He’d approve of it?” he asks, unable to help how surprised he sounds.

“Oh yeah,” she confirms with a laugh. “He was so angry all summer, with what the Daily Prophet is saying about Harry and Dumbledore. He even not so subtly suggested that I expand my horizons, make some friendships and connections with people from other houses. I think he’d be really excited about what Harry’s doing.”

“That’s actually really cool. I guess I definitely misjudged you then.”

They both get back to work then, but Y/N doesn’t feel as awkward anymore. She’s never bothered to have an actual conversation with either of the Weasley Twins, and she is quite surprised to find that she actually really enjoyed it.

When Y/N and George leave the transfiguration classroom a few hours later she’s exhausted and silently thanks Merlin that she is a Witch, because cleaning the muggle way is dreadful. Despite the late hour Y/N is surprised to see that the hallway isn’t empty. Adrian and Fred are leaning up against the wall across from the transfiguration classroom a few feet apart, glaring at each other.

“What are you doing here?” Y/N asks with a soft laugh, altering both boys of their arrival.

“I wanted to make sure George was alright. You’ve been spouting about your grand revenge plan all week, I wanted to make sure you didn’t try and pull anything while you two were alone,” Fred answers, finally looking away from Adrian so he can glare at Y/N.

Y/N rolls her eyes. “I wasn’t talking to you, Weasley. I don’t care why you’re here.” When Fred flips her off she returns the gesture.

“To answer your question,” Adrian starts as he walks towards her. “I came to accompany you back to the common room. A gentleman never lets a lady walk alone at night.”

“Well then where’s this gentleman?” she teases, looking around the hallway.

Before Adrian can respond Fred laughs. “Yeah, I don’t see a lady either.” George’s laughter joins his brothers and Y/N flips them off again.

When Adrian starts to move closer to Fred, Y/N grabs his arm and pulls him into her chest. “Not here, Adrian,” she whispers. “McGonagall is right in there,” she reminds him, gesturing towards the open classroom door with her head.

“You are so lucky, weasel,” Adrian practically growls at him. Y/N wraps her arms around Adrian’s waist and starts to pull him down the hall away from Fred and George. Adrian glares at them one last time before he turns forward and wraps his arm around her shoulder. “You should have let me hit him. One good hit would have been worth a month’s detention.”

“Not this close to quidditch season it’s not. Smack a few good bludgers at him instead,” Y/N pauses and she looks up at Adrian with her best puppy dog eyes. “Piggyback ride? Please?”

Adrian sighs heavily but crouches down in front of Y/N, nonetheless. She squeals in delight, climbing onto her friend’s back. Adrian grips her thighs tightly as he stands. “Ready?” Once he feels Y/N nod he sets off towards the common room. “You’re lucky I love you, brat.”

When Fred and George slide into their seats behind Y/N in Potions on Monday morning they don’t say a word. When she saw them enter the room she had tensed up, just waiting for whatever snarky comment they were bound to make. So, when they take their seats without a word, Y/N can’t help but turn around to look at them.

“What’s wrong with you two?” When neither of them responds, Y/N waves her hand in front of their faces. “Hello? Earth to Nitwit 1 and Nitwit 2.” She expected her insult to get them to at least look at her, but both of their focus is on the blackboard in the front of the room. She huffs in annoyance. “Whatever be pricks. I don’t care.” She turns back around and crosses her arms, trying to convince herself that she in fact doesn’t care that they’re ignoring her.

“Will you stop staring at them? It’s weird,” Marcus scolds Y/N that night at dinner, kicking her shin under the table to get her attention.

Y/N kicks him back, finally tearing her attention away from Fred and George. “They’re planning something,” she insists.

Daphne rolls her eyes and throws a carrot at Y/N. “First you complain that they’re always loud and bothering you and now you’re complaining that they aren’t bothering you. Will you just give it a rest? Be thankful that they’ve finally decided to leave you alone.”

Y/N sticks her tongue out at Daphne before she takes a bite out of the carrot she had thrown at her. She knows Daphne is right, but she can’t help but be bothered that Fred and George aren’t even trying to annoy her. As much as she hates to admit it, she misses their antics. Y/N had really enjoyed George’s company during their detention and part of her had hoped that maybe their newfound acquaintanceship would have carried over once they were no longer the only people in the room.

So, she had found herself quite disappointed that he hadn’t said a word to her all day. He hadn’t even looked at her. Y/N thought she had felt his gaze on her during Charms, but when she turned around to check he was focused on Flitwick.

“Daph is right,” Adrian whispers in her ear, bringing her thoughts back to the present. “They’re finally leaving you alone, you should be happy.”

Y/N shrugs her shoulders, her gaze falling upon Fred and George once again. “I am happy,” she lies. “I just know them too well. They’re planning something big. They’re trying to throw me off.” She flips her friends off when they all groan.

“What makes you think they’re planning something?” Marcus asks. “Did something happen between you and George during detention? You didn’t say too much about it.”

Y/N bites her lip. She hadn’t said much to her friends about her detention when her and Adrian arrived back in the common room that night, just that it was mind numbingly boring. She didn’t want them to know that she had not only had a conversation with George Weasley, but she had actually enjoyed it.

“No, nothing happened. We sat there cleaning teapots for hours, McGonagall came back and she let us go,” she says with a shrug, trying to seem casual. “He didn’t even say two words to me.”

“Exactly, so chill out. Enjoy the peace,” Daphne says.

When Y/N finally collapses in her bed that night she can’t seem to fall asleep despite how tired she is. She tosses and turns, her mind wandering to George and why she’s so bothered by the sudden lack of attention she’s getting from him. Her stomach lurches, realization hitting her like a ton of bricks.

I have a crush on George Weasley.

Y/N spends the rest of the week avoiding both Weasley Twins. She sits as far away from them as possible, refuses to look at them and even goes as far as to hide in an empty classroom when she sees them heading towards her one afternoon. Y/N is determined to extinguish whatever positive feelings she has towards George. She’s spent the past seven years hating his guts, and she is not about to let herself reverse all of that over some stupid crush. Unfortunately for Y/N, on Saturday morning her fake Galleon burns red, letting her know that there will be another DA meeting that night.

Which is why she’s currently heading towards the Room of Requirement, her stomach a pit of dread and despair. “Get it together, Y/N,” she mutters to herself. Y/N is standing just outside the room of requirement and she takes a deep breath to calm herself down.

Y/N pulls the door open and goes to head in, but she runs smack into the chest of someone trying to leave. An involuntary squeal leaves her lips as her body tenses up, preparing itself to hit the ground. Except she doesn’t even fall. A pair of strong arms wrap around her waist and she’s pulled into the other person’s chest.

“Woah there. Watch where you’re going.”

Y/N doesn’t have to look up to know that George Weasley is holding her in his arms. She can feel her cheeks heat up and she pushes away from him, needing to get away from him as fast as possible. “I could say the same to you, Weasley,” she sneers.

Even though her tone is crude Y/N can feel her heart fluttering in her chest and her skin is tingling from his touch. She looks up at his face, letting her eyes linger on his lips for just a second. She tries not to think about what it would feel like for him to grip her waist as they kissed.

“No need to be so feisty, Y/N,” George teases, snapping Y/N out of her thoughts.

She rolls her eyes and steps aside so George can leave, Fred following close behind him. “Maybe if you weren’t trying to mow me down I wouldn’t need to be,” she responds, watching as Fred flips her off behind his back.

She watches them walk away for a moment before heading into the room of requirement. Her palms are sweaty even from that small interaction with George and Y/N tries to subtly wipe them off on her skirt as she joins Ginny, Hermione and Ron in the back of the room.

“Where are they off to?” she asks after they’ve been talking for a few minutes, not wanting to seem too interested in George’s movements.

“Filch has been sniffing around for Umbridge, she knows Harry is up to something. So, Fred and George are going to slip him something that’ll put him out of commission for few hours,” Hermione explains.

Y/N nods. Hermione had made a few complaints to both Y/N and Miles, a Ravenclaw in her year that was Head Boy, that Fred and George had been spending their free time making an array of joke products and then testing them out on first years. “Despite the fact that I have been the victim of a Weasley product, I can’t say I feel bad for Filch.”

Once Fred and George slip back into the room of requirement and give Harry a thumbs up, he starts the meeting. They’re going to continue working on disarming, and Y/N immediately searches for Neville in the crowd. Neville certainly isn’t the most talented wizard, but Y/N can tell that he’s full of determination and she likes working with him. When Harry sets them off to work Neville joins her.

“You better watch out, Y/N, I’ve been practicing,” Neville says with a laugh as they take their stances.

“Alright then, Longbottom, let’s see what you’ve got.”

When Y/N leaves the Room of Requirement later that night, she can still hear Neville chattering to his friends happily as they head back to Gryffindor tower. It had taken him most of the meeting, but Neville had finally managed to get her wand to fly out of her hand. She was extremely happy for him as the other members of the DA came around to congratulate him, and not just because George had pressed up against her back as he patted Neville on the shoulder.

“Sneaking away without saying Goodbye, Y/N? I’m hurt,” George scolds teasingly as he comes up behind her.

She rolls her eyes, trying to contain her excitement. “Oh, so you’re speaking to me again?” she says as he falls into step next to her. He’s standing so close that their arms almost brush, and Y/N swallows down the butterflies that come up her throat.

“Aw, did little Y/N miss me?” George teases, shoving her shoulder.

“No,” Y/N responds far too quickly, trying not to get flustered from the contact. “Just surprised that you managed to go a whole week without annoying me that’s all.”

“Uh huh. Sure, whatever you say.”

She bites her lip, trying to contain her glee. Cut it out, she scolds herself. George Weasley is nothing more than an annoying git, you do not like him.

“Why are you following me, anyway? Last I checked Gryffindor’s common room is in the other direction,” she questions as they head down towards the Great Hall.

Y/N watches George shrug out of the corner of her eye. His face is blank, but Y/N can tell that he’s nervous. “Making sure you’re not getting up to anything is all.”

“Or you’re distracting me while your brother sets up some kind of trap,” she responds.

Suddenly she feels George’s hand wrap around her wrist and he’s pulling her into a nearby broom closet. As he slams the door shut behind them Y/N can’t help but notice just how close they are. Her back is pressed up against the wall and George is standing only a few inches away, his hands on either side of her head.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Y/N demands, hoping that her voice doesn’t shake. George is towering over her, and Y/N can see the muscles on his forearms bulging in her peripheral vision. It is taking every ounce of willpower in her body to stay still.

George leans down as he chuckles and his warm breath tickles Y/N’s cheeks, causing a shiver to run down her spine. “I think what you mean to say is thank you because I just saved your ass from serving another detention with McGonagall.”

Her eyebrows knit together in confusion. “McGonagall? I didn’t see-.“ Y/N’s sentence is cut short as George places his hand over her mouth to silence her. Her breathing involuntarily speeds up and she hopes that George can’t feel the blush on her cheeks. Y/N can hear footsteps approaching the broom closet and she closes her eyes in fear of being caught in such a compromising position with George.

Thankfully the footsteps disappear just as quicky as they had come and Y/N sighs in relief when George takes his hand away. “Thank you,” she mutters. Y/N can still feel the imprint of his hand on her mouth and it makes her stomach feel queasy.

“You’re welcome,” George says, sounding pleased with himself. “We should probably stay here for a moment or two longer, just to make sure she’s gone.”

Y/N nods, her head tilting back so she can look at George’s face. She examines his features closely, trying to commit them to memory. After her realization earlier in the week she had spent every moment trying not to think about George, but now that they’re standing there so close he’s the only thing she can think about.

George clears his throat suddenly, breaking Y/N from her thoughts. “We’re uh, we’re probably good to go.”

“Yeah,” she agrees softly, trying not to let the disappointment she feels seep into her voice.

George lingers a moment longer, before he pulls away and slowly opens the door to their hiding spot. Y/N watches as he checks the hallway and follows him out when the coast is clear.

“Well um. Thanks for that,” she stutters, rubbing the back of her neck. “I’ll see you around, I guess.” Y/N starts to walk away, but she pauses when George follows behind her. She turns to look at him. “What are you doing?”

“You might still be up to something. I should follow you, just to make sure,” he responds confidently.

Y/N rolls her eyes but doesn’t say anymore, not wanting her giddiness to become noticeable. They walk side by side silently with Y/N glancing at George every few steps. As they reach the landing Y/N goes to turn down the corridor that will lead her down into the dungeons when she runs smack into someone for the second time that night. Except this time, it’s much less enjoyable.

“Professor Umbridge! I am so sorry,” Y/N apologizes as she fixes her balance. She may hate the woman, but she’ll be nice to her if it’ll get her out of a detention.

“Oh Ms. Y/L/N it is quite alright,” she practically squeaks while smiling at Y/N. Y/N imagines it’s meant to seem sweet, but it looks more like an evil grin. Umbridge’s eyes suddenly narrow as she looks past Y/N at George. “Mr. Weasley! Out in the corridors past curfew again I see. That’ll be detention with me, Monday and Tuesday evening.”

Y/N can hear George sputter behind her, and she turns around, cringing at the angry look on his face. “What about Y/N?” he asks angrily. “She’s out past curfew as well!”

Umbridge tuts, moving past Y/N as she heads back towards her office. “Yes, but Ms. Y/L/N is Head Girl I’m sure she has a good reason for being out in the halls.” Umbridge puts her hand up to stop George from responding. “Now that is enough out of you, Mr. Weasley. I suggest you head back to your common room before I make your detention a whole week.”

They both watch as Umbridge walks away and when Y/N turns to look at George, he’s already watching her. “I’m really sorry about that, George,” she says quietly.

George scoffs. “Yeah whatever.” He stalks off then, and it takes everything in Y/N to not follow behind him.

As Y/N enters the common room her plan is to stalk off to her dorm and get in bed as quick as possible. She’s gone through a whirlwind of emotions over the past few hours and all she wants to do is fall asleep, so she doesn’t have to feel any of them. All of that changes however, since when Y/N finally steps into the common room there is music blaring and people are everywhere.

Y/N makes eye contact with Adrian across the crowd and he clumsily waves her over. She slowly makes her way through the crowd. The air is heavy and hot from all of the people and it smells of firewhiskey. When she finally reaches Adrian, he stumbles over his own feet as he pulls her closer and she notices Marcus is seated on the couch with Daphne sprawled out across his lap; all of her friends are clearly very, very drunk.

“Y/N! You made it!” Daphne yells happily when she notices Y/N’s arrival. She wobbles as she gets out of Marcus’ lap and practically falls into Y/N, giving her a tight hug.

“Someone’s having a good time,” Y/N says with a laugh. Drunk Daphne is one of Y/N’s favorite things, and it’s rare that she gets to see it. Daphne is always prim and proper. She never has a hair out of place and she rarely lets herself goof off with her friends; she’s always their voice of reason. So, when she lets loose, she really goes for it, and it always leaves Y/N in hysterics.

“Where’ve you been? Party started ages ago,” Marcus says slowly, his words slurring together. He grabs Daphne’s hands and tries to pull her into his lap, but they’re both so drunk that they end up falling over, and Daphne somehow ends up on the ground with Marcus on top of her.

Y/N and Adrian burst out in laughter, with Adrian leaning on Y/N for support. His drink sloshes in his hand, and Y/N takes it from him to avoid it spilling everywhere. She eyes his glass warily, trying to decide if she wants to join her friends in drunk land. Her plan had been to sleep away her emotions but drinking them away will work just as well.

“I guess I have some catching up to do then.” Y/N downs the entire glass in one go, her warm bed long forgotten.

A few hours and far too many glasses of Firewhiskey later the party has died down and Y/N is slumped over in the corner of the common room, cradled in a large pile of pillows that Adrian had assembled for her. Daphne and Marcus had disappeared several minutes ago, probably to make out somewhere and once they had Adrian moved from the nearby couch to join Y/N. He’s laying on his back, head in Y/N’s lap as he listens to her complain about George Weasley.

“He’s just so annoying,” she drawls, her words coming out fairly jumbled. Y/N has said the same sentence at least five times in the past 10 minutes, but she’s too drunk to remember or care. She’s been rambling on about George and every mildly annoying this he’s done since the moment they’ve met and she’s having a hard time remembering what she’s already mentioned. “And his face, don’t even get me started on his face.”

When Adrian groans she smacks him on the forehead. “Can’t you talk about something else,” he murmurs. “Anything else, please.”

Y/N smacks him on the forehead again before starting to run her fingers through his hair. It’s his only weakness and she’s hoping it’ll keep him quiet. “There is nothing else to talk about,” she says, her tone condescending. “It’s empty up here, no thoughts,” she giggles, hitting herself lightly in the head with her free hand. “No thoughts, just George Weasley and his face. His pretty, pretty face. And oh god his lips. They look so damn soft. D’you think their soft?”

Adrian hums, not really paying attention to the words coming out of Y/N’s mouth. She’d started to lightly scratch his scalp as she talked, and any ability he had to comprehend the English language disappeared. “Yeah sure, whatever.”

Y/N sighs dreamily, thinking about what it would be like to kiss George. “Bet he’s really good at it,” she muses. “And his hands,” she adds a moment later, practically moaning. “They’re so big and strong. He’s got good fingers too. Bet he knows how to use them.” Y/N rubs her thighs together involuntarily as she feels herself starting to get turned on. Y/N’s eyes start to close as the copious amount of alcohol she drank starts to catch up with her. “You wanna know something funny? I don’t hate George Weasley anymore.”

“Is that so?” Adrian mumbles, starting to drift off as well.

“Mhm,” she hums. “I’m pretty sure I’m in love with him.”

The next morning Y/N is awake far earlier than she’d like to be. Adrian’s elbow was digging into her back, and she tried to ignore it for as long as possible, but eventually she just gave up and pulled herself off of the floor.

Her head is pounding, she feels groggy and she desperately wants to crawl into her bed. But her stomach grumbles loudly and so instead of dragging her body down the staircase that would lead to her dorm, she drags herself towards the portrait hole, still in the clothes she had on yesterday.

When Y/N finally makes it to the Great Hall she practically crawls over to the Slytherin table and plops down in the first open seat. Thankfully it’s still early, so not many people are around and it’s fairly quiet. She starts to grab random food, not really caring what it is. She’s cursing herself for challenging Adrian to a drinking contest as she goes to grab the pitcher of orange juice, but a large hand beats her to it.

“George?” she asks in surprise when she looks up.

He doesn’t say anything as he fills her goblet up for her. He takes a seat across from her and fills his own goblet before he starts to pile eggs on his plate. “Yes?” he answers casually, as if he eats breakfast with Y/N every morning.

“What are you doing here?” Y/N watches George as he begins to eat, her eyes searching his face for some kind of hint of what he’s up to. George shrugs as a light laugh tumbles from his mouth.

“Eating breakfast?” he asks, gesturing to his plate like it’s obvious. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

Y/N rolls her eyes playfully, watching as he grabs an apple. She watches as his fingers wrap around it and she practically drools. A tingle runs down her spine as she imagines his fingers wrapping around something else.

“Obviously I can see that you’re eating,” she says a moment later when her thoughts become PG. “I meant what are you doing sitting here. With me. At the Slytherin table.”

George smirks at her. “Why? Do I make you nervous?” His lips wrap around the apple as he takes a bite, and Y/N has to take a bite of her muffin to stop herself from moaning right there in the middle of the Great Hall.

George’s hair is ruffled from sleep, and he looks cozy in the homemade jumper he’s wearing. His eyes are soft, and his lips look even softer. Y/N is dreaming about what it would feel like to lean across the table and kiss him, when she realizes that he asked her a question.

“Not at all,” she says, her voice shaking. “It just isn’t like you, that’s all. Besides last night when you left it seemed like you were angry at me,�� she trails off, her voice soft. She looks down at her plate to avoid his gaze.

“I’m sorry about that, Y/N,” George admits sheepishly. Y/N’s skin tingles when he nudges her leg with his foot under the table. She looks up to meet his gaze, instantly returning his warm smile. “It’s not your fault Umbridge is a toad.”

Y/N laughs, completely entranced by George. “I should have said something. Made up an excuse for you.” She worries her bottom lip between her teeth for a moment. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, waving away her apology. They both just look at each other, the food on their plates long forgotten. Y/N lets her gaze wander to George’s lips again as she thinks about kissing him. She starts to involuntarily inch closer and to her surprise, George starts doing the same thing.

“Uh, Y/N?”

Y/N and George jump apart, startled by the sudden intrusion. Y/N looks over to see Astoria standing next to her, clearly surprised by what she had just witnessed. Y/N feels her cheeks heating up, and she fidgets in her seat.

“Hey, Astoria. What’s up?” Y/N asks, trying to sound casual, like her best friend’s little sister didn’t just catch her about to kiss George in the middle of the Great Hall.

“Daphne is asking for you. She’s throwing up in the dorm bathroom.”

Y/N rolls her eyes with a huff. “Of course, she is, poor girl can’t handle her alcohol.” She stands suddenly, nodding awkwardly at George. “Weasley,” she says curtly. She gives a wayward glance to Astoria before she heads for the exit, trying to walk as quickly as possible without looking like she’s running away.

“And you don’t remember anything?” Y/N questions Adrian as they head up to breakfast on Monday morning. After she fled the Great Hall yesterday morning she’d spent the rest of the day with Daphne going between the bathroom in their dorm and her bed, with Astoria sneaking in food for them. As she sat holding Daphne’s hair back Y/N had a chance to replay the events of Saturday night, and all of the things she had said to Adrian about George became clear to her. She was panicking all night, hoping that he didn’t remember any of what she had said.

Adrian nods. “Not a thing. Last thing I remember is you challenging me to a drinking contest. Everything after that is completely blank. Probably due to the 10 shots we took,” he says with a laugh. “I was so confused when I woke up in the common room.”

Y/N breathes a sigh of relief. She’s barely come to terms with the fact that George Weasley is no longer her mortal enemy, but someone she truly cares deeply for, so she is definitely not ready to share that with her friends.

“Why do you care so much? You confess your love for me or something?” Adrian asks as they enter the Great Hall.

Y/N lets her eyes scan the Gryffindor table, a pink blush forming on her cheeks when she spots George. He looks prim and proper in his school robes and his hair is neat. She bites her lip, imagining what it would be like to fuss up his hair with her hands with their bodies pressed together so tightly that their uniforms wrinkled. When George suddenly makes eye contact with her she looks away, bringing her attention back to Adrian.

“Nothing like that,” she insists, shoving him playfully. “I was just rambling on and on. I sounded like an idiot, most of it didn’t even make sense.”

“What didn’t make sense?” Daphne asks as Y/N and Adrian sit across from her and Marcus.

“The things I rambled on about in Adrian’s ear on Saturday after you two disappeared,” Y/N says with a laugh. She reaches for the orange juice, a small smile appearing on her lips as it reminds her of George.

“Aw you were rambley drunk? How cute. I’m sad I missed it,” Marcus teases.

Y/N throws a grape at him. “If you weren’t so busy sucking face with Daphne, you could have witnessed it.” Marcus and Daphne both blush at that, causing Adrian and Y/N to laugh. “I don’t know why you’re laughing, Pucey. You were cuddly drunk. I ran my hand through your hair, and you were practically mewling.”

Adrian blushes and bats at Y/N’s hand as she pinches his cheek. “Thank god I don’t remember that then.”

Unlike last week, Y/N spends most of her time on Monday and Tuesday trying to get close to George. She heads to meals a tad earlier than her friends, hoping that he’ll join her briefly. She gets to class early, hoping that he may arrive on his own and they can talk. But every time she tries she either doesn’t happen to run into him or he’s too busy messing around with Fred to notice her presence.

“Oof. Sorry,” Y/N grunts as she runs into someone. One of the Ravenclaw Prefects is sick, so Y/N volunteered to spend most of her Tuesday night patrolling the halls of the castle. Patrolling was one of her favorite duties as a Prefect, since it gave her time to just be by herself and think. She had let her mind wander to George, and she was in the middle of quite the raunchy daydream.

“What are you doing? Trying to mow me down?” the person asks with a chuckle.

“George, hey,” she greets airily. Y/N takes a step back so she can look up at him, a dopey smile on her face. “What are you doing out here? Kinda late, innit?”

“Maybe I’m here to see you,” he responds, causing Y/N to look away and blush. “I was serving my detention with Umbridge,” he reminds her, gesturing towards the corridor he had just come down.

She glances at her watch before looking back to him. “And she just let you out now? What did she have you do, polish all those weird cat plates?”

George chuckles. “Writing lines, actually.”

“Must have been enough to fill a book with how late it is,” she jokes as they start to walk together. George fidgets beside her, and she gives him a look. “You alright?”

George hums and absentmindedly brings a hand up to run through his hair. Y/N’s eyes widen when she notices the back of his hand is bleeding, and she grabs it before he has a chance to hide it. “It’s not as bad as it looks,” he mumbles, trying to pull his hand away.

Y/N tightens her grip, too focused on his injury to think about how perfect his hand feels in hers. “What is this, George? How did this happen?”

George sighs. “Umbridge had me use her special quill to write my lines.”

Y/N ghosts her finger over the wound, giving George an apologetic look when he winces. As she examines the wound she can make out what is it, the wound in his hand spells out ‘I must not break the rules’ in his messy handwriting. A sudden wave of rage washes over Y/N and she releases George’s hand so she can stomp towards Umbridge’s office.

“Y/N what are you doing?” George asks as he follows, though he’s pretty sure he knows that answer.

“I’m going to go give that toad a piece of my mind. That’s how she punishes people. Torture? That’s mental.”

George catches up to her quickly, and he wraps his fingers around her wrist, pulling her into his chest. He wraps his arms around her shoulders, holding her tightly against him. She breathes in his scent, wanting to just melt into his embrace. But she resists the urge and struggles against it, desperately trying to get out.

“Let me go, George,” she grumbles, wiggling in his grip.

“Absolutely not, Y/N. What good is yelling at her going to do? All that’s going to do is get you in detention as well and I’m not going to let you do that to yourself.”

Y/N wiggles against his grip for a few more moments before she gives up, her anger deflating. She relaxes in George’s arms and buries her face in his chest. She feels lightheaded as she takes slow, deep breaths, enjoying being this close to George. They stand like that for a few minutes, just enjoying being in each other’s presence, only breaking apart when they hear the door to Umbridge’s office open.

“Shit,” George whispers. He releases Y/N from his grip so he can grab her hand, intertwining their fingers. “Quick, follow me.” George leads them down the hallway and through a few different corridors before he stops in front of a tapestry.

“What are you doing?” she asks as the sound of footsteps echoes through the empty space.

George shushes her, and Y/N watches in amazement as he taps his wand to the tapestry, and it swings to the side, revealing a hole in the wall.

“Woah, this is so cool,” she comments as George pulls her in behind him. The tapestry immediately closes behind them, and George waves his wand so the torches that line the walls light up. “How do you know about this place?”

George shrugs, leaning up against the wall. “Fred and I have explored the entire castle. There isn’t a secret passageway or hidden corridor that we haven’t found.”

They stand there in silence while Y/N looks around the small passageway. She can feel George’s eyes on her and she’s doing everything she can to not return his gaze. Her body feels like it’s on fire, the feeling of George’s grip on her shoulders still fresh in her mind.

“You know if you want to spend time alone with me all you have to do is ask,” she teases a moment later, finally looking at George. She’s leaning on the wall opposite him, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. She starts to fiddle with a stray string on the bottom hem of her skirt, needing to keep her hands busy to avoid wrapping them around George’s tie to pull him close. “You don’t have to keep pulling me into dark rooms.”

George looks Y/N up and down, a smirk forming on his face. “Is that so? After you practically ran away from me at breakfast on Sunday I didn’t think you’d want to be alone with me.” He sounds confident, but Y/N can tell that there’s an underlying tinge of insecurity in his voice.

Y/N frowns and pushes away from the wall so she can take a small step towards him. “I tried to catch you alone all day yesterday and today,” she says softly. “But every time I tried you were with your stupid brother.”

“Well every time I tried to catch you alone you were with your stupid friends,” he says with a chuckle, copying her frustrated tone. George takes a small step towards her, so there’s only a few feet between them.

“I’m sorry, by the way. For running away from you the other day. Astoria startled me and I panicked,” she pauses, taking another small step forward. They’re standing so close that Y/N can smell him, and her brain goes fuzzy. “I should have stayed,” she admits quietly.

George licks his lips as he takes a final small step forward. They’re now only a few centimeters apart, and he grips Y/N’s hip softly. “What would have happened?” His eyes flick down to Y/N’s lips before meeting hers again. “If you had stayed, what would have happened?”

Y/N can feel her heart pounding in her chest, and her face is warm. “I. I would have.”

But she doesn’t get to finish her sentence. George leans down and presses their lips together, kissing her sweetly as his other hand comes up to rest on her neck. Y/N feels lightheaded as her lips start to move with George’s, her arms winding around his neck. George backs them up as he deepens the kiss, pressing Y/N up against the wall. She moans as her back hits the hard stone, allowing George to lick into her mouth.

“I would have done that,” she finishes once George pulls away, her breathing heavy.

George chuckles before kissing her again briefly. “You sound so fucking hot when you moan,” he teases, kissing her again as her cheeks flush pink.

Y/N returns his kiss eagerly, letting her fingers tangle in the hair at the base of his neck as both his hands come to rest on her hips. Her brain is in overdrive, trying to process everything that’s happening. She wants to commit it all to memory, in case this is the only time it happens. She’s thinking about how good of a kisser he is, and how perfectly their mouths fit together when George pulls away.

“Bet you would sound even hotter moaning my name,” he whispers in her ear, before he starts to trail kisses down Y/N’s neck.

A soft whine leaves Y/N’s lips as she tilts her head back, giving George more room to kiss. She tugs his hair and the groan he lets out against her neck goes right to her core and arousal starts to blossom in her stomach. His grip on her hips tightens as he begins to suck a mark into her neck. “George,” she moans, her eyes fluttering closed.

Y/N can feel George smirk into her neck before he pulls away and reconnects their lips. He pushes their bodies together tighter, shoving her legs apart with one of his own. She instinctively grinds down against it to get relief from her aching pussy, causing both of them to moan lowly.

“Holy fuck, Y/N,” George growls as he breaks their kiss. He looks over her as she continues to grind against his thigh, in awe of how beautiful she is. Her face is flushed red, her lips are swollen from his kisses and breathy moans are falling from her mouth as her hips move back and forth.

Y/N tugs her bottom lip between her teeth to try and contain the noises that are creeping up her throat as she works towards her climax. Her hips move sloppily, giving her clit the perfect amount of friction against George’s muscular thigh. “Fuck,” she breathes and opens her eyes so she can gaze into his, a moan falling from her lips when she sees how dark his eyes are.

George kisses her for a brief moment, his cock starting to harden in his trousers. He craves the feeling of her lips, but the noises coming from her mouth are too intoxicating to cut off. “You look so pretty, darling, getting yourself off on my thigh.”

George’s words only turn Y/N on more and she starts to move her hips faster, desperate for her release. “George,” she moans, tugging on his hair again. “Please, please, George,” she begs.

George presses kisses to Y/N’s jaw as his grip on her hips tightens. He pulls her down harder against his thigh and smirks when she whines loudly. “What do you want darling? Hm?”

“I’m so close,” she gasps. “Please, George. Can I,” her words turn into a moan as George forces her down harder against this thigh again. Y/N can feel her climax approaching and her body feels like it’s on fire. “Please, let me come, George. Please,” she begs breathily.

George’s cock twitches in his trousers and he groans as he realizes what Y/N is begging him for. Permission. “Go on darling, come for me.”

George’s voice is husky, and as soon as the words leave his mouth Y/N’s hips stutter as she reaches her climax, George’s name falling from her mouth. She tugs his hair lightly as she comes, pleasure washing over her like a wave. George rubs her hips and presses open mouthed kisses to her jaw and neck as her hips start to slow down.

“Oh my god,” Y/N pants, resting her forehead against George’s shoulder. Her legs feel like jelly and a moan falls from her mouth when she shifts on George’s thigh and her sensitive clit rubs against her panties.

George laughs lightly and brings a hand up to stroke Y/N’s hair. “That was so fucking hot,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to her temple. He removes his leg from between hers but keeps a tight grip on her hip to make sure she’s steady. “Like really fucking hot, Y/N. Holy shit.”

Y/N buries her face in George’s neck, pressing a few light kisses to his skin. “No, it was embarrassing,” she mumbles. She’d never felt the need to ask for permission to come with any of the other people she’d been intimate with, but there was something about George. Y/N felt comfortable with him, she felt safe enough to let her walls down; to be completely vulnerable to him.

“Hey, look at me,” he says softly. George waits for Y/N to pick her head up and look up at him before he continues. “You will never have anything to be embarrassed about with me. Ever.”

Instead of responding, Y/N kisses him desperately and reaches down to palm his hardening erection through his trousers. George groans into the kiss, his hips automatically rolling to meet her movements. Her lips start to kiss across his jaw and down George’s neck, nibbling lightly.

Y/N pauses her kissing so she can lean up and whisper into George’s ear. “Your turn,” she teases. George curses softly as she removes her hand from his crotch, and she places a quick kiss on his lips before she pushes him away slightly. Y/N slowly sinks down to her knees and starts to work at the button of George’s trousers.

“God you are gorgeous,” he says dreamily as he tangles his fingers in her hair.

Y/N can feel the blush creeping up her face as she undoes George’s trousers. She looks up at him as she pulls his trousers and boxers down together just enough to free his cock. Y/N slowly wraps her hand around the base of his cock, a smirk forming on her face when he groans.

George’s grip on her hair tightens as Y/N begins to slowly stroke him. “Merlin that feels good,” George moans, causing Y/N to increase her pace.

She leans forward and takes him into her mouth, her hand continuing to stroke what she can’t fit in her mouth. George is quite well endowed, and Y/N rubs her thighs together as she starts to bob her head, imaging what he’d feel like inside her.

“Such a good girl. Sucking my cock so well,” George praises. His breathing starts to get heavier as Y/N’s tongue starts to swirl around his sensitive head and when she looks up at him he has to look away to avoid coming right then and there. Y/N looks absolutely sinful with her lips wrapped around his cock, and George is sure that image will be imprinted in his brain forever.

George’s grunts echo throughout the passageway as Y/N starts to move faster, wanting George to fill her mouth with his release. She takes him down even further, gagging slightly when the tip of his cock hits the back of her throat. George uses the grip he has on Y/N’s hair to help guide her head, his hips starting to slowly meet her movement.

Y/N hums in approval and pulls her head off of his cock for a moment to catch her breath. She strokes him with her hand for a moment, her thumb circling his sensitive head. “Fuck my mouth George, please,” she begs, before swallowing him down again.

“Such a dirty girl aren’t you Y/N?” he teases as he wraps his hand in her hair, gripping it tightly. “Such a slut for my cock already, hm?” He lets out a groan as he starts to move her head on his cock, his hips meeting each stroke. “Fuck, darling. Your mouth feels amazing,” he moans, starting to fuck her mouth faster. “Good girl,” he praises as she gags around him.

Y/N can’t help but slip her hand under her skirt and into her panties, letting her index and middle finger toy with her clit. George’s cock is heavy against her tongue and his dirty words are sending shivers down her spine and into her core. She’s still sensitive from her previous orgasm, and she moans around George’s cock as drool drips down her chin. She starts to work her clit faster, her second orgasm quickly approaching.

“Getting close, darling,” he grunts. “Gonna shoot my load right into your pretty little mouth.” George watches as Y/N squirms, a wicked grin forming on his mouth. “Are you touching yourself darling?” A shiver runs down his spine and he slams his cock into the back of her throat harder when she hums around him. “Such a dirty little girl you are, Y/N.” His tone is patronizing, and it only turns Y/N on more. “Love having my cock in your mouth that much, hm?”

Y/N whines around his cock, her hips moving in time with her finger’s movements on her clit. She brings her free hand up under her shirt and bra so she can massage her breast, her fingers pinching her nipple. Her climax is building rapidly, and Y/N looks up at George her eyes full of arousal and desperation.

George bites his lip as he looks down at Y/N, knowing exactly what she needs. His strokes become shallow as his own orgasm approaches, a low moan falling from his lips. “Go on, darling. Be a good girl and come for me.”

Y/N’s whole-body shakes as she comes, her second orgasm even stronger than the first. Her lips clamp down around George’ cock even tighter, bringing him to his climax as well. He pulls her hair as he empties himself into Y/N’s mouth, her name spilling from his mouth in hard pants. She continues to toy with her clit lightly as aftershocks of pleasure continue to roll through her body.

George loosens his grip on her hair as he slowly pulls out, his mouth running dry as saliva and some of his cum dribble down Y/N’s chin. He watches as she swallows his release, his cock twitching at the sight. He tucks his cock back into his trousers, wincing as the head brushes up against the fabric. Y/N looks up at him as she wipes the drool from her chin, looking far too innocent after what just happened. Her lips are red and swollen, almost begging for him to kiss her.

He releases her hair and helps Y/N to her feet. His arms wrap around her waist and he brings their lips together. They kiss slowly and messily, both of them too tired to care. George licks into her mouth, not caring that he can taste himself on her tongue. They stand there kissing for a few minutes, only breaking apart when the need for air becomes too much.

“You think the coast is clear?” Y/N asks with a giggle, her voice hoarse.

George chuckles and presses a kiss to her forehead. “I certainly hope so, because I’m absolutely knackered and if I have to spend another minute in here with you after what just happened I’m not going to be able to control myself.”

Wednesday morning arrives far too quickly for Y/N’s liking. She had fallen asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow, but when Daphne starts to shake her awake it feels like she hadn’t even slept at all.

“Five more minutes, mum, “ she groans. Her throat feels raw and Y/N can’t help but blush as the memories of last night run through her mind. She had wanted to confess everything to George as they snuck out of the passageway, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. As they stepped out into the empty hallway the haze of sexual tension around them broke, and when George headed off back to his dorm with nothing more than a wink and a kiss on the cheek Y/N’s stomach sank.

Y/N had felt nothing but pure joy after her and George’s activities and her heart felt as if it would beat out of her chest. She knew that she was in love with him, and after he had been so tender with her she was sure that he returned her feelings. But after he left her behind so quickly, she couldn’t help but think it had all been in her head.

“Five more minutes will turn to 10, which will turn into you missing breakfast. And you know how you get when you’re hungry, so get your ass out of bed,” Daphne scolds lightly.

Y/N groans but rolls out of bed, her heart heavy and her knees aching.

“What do you think they’re talking about?” Daphne whispers to Y/N as they enter the Great Hall, gesturing towards Fred and George.

Y/N allows herself to look quickly, her heart rate increasing as her eyes pass over George. Memories of last night swim to the surface, and she swallows hard, willing them away. The twins have their heads together and they’re talking feverishly, clearly up to something. “Dunno really,” she answers, tearing her gaze away. “Probably planning their next prank or something.” Y/N and Daphne sit down with Adrian and Marcus and she grabs some toast, not really feeling up to eating.

“So, what are you gonna do?” Daphne asks as they start to eat.

Y/N gives her a look. “What am I gonna do about what?”

Daphne rolls her eyes. “Come one, it’s been what, two weeks since the twins have done something to you? They’ve gotta be over there cooking up some grand scheme against you.”

Y/N goes to respond, but she suddenly feels sick as George’s actions over the past few days start to make sense. He wasn’t in love with her, he was trying to embarrass her? Use her? Get information on her for him and Fred to use against her? She wasn’t exactly sure, but her heart sinks into her stomach. Whatever it was it couldn’t be good.

“I think I’m gonna head to Potions early,” she says suddenly, standing up. Adrian, Marcus and Daphne give her a look.

“You haven’t even eaten anything,” Adrian says, trying to pull her back down.

She bats his hand away and gathers her bag. “I’m not really that hungry. I’ll see you guys later.”

Without another word she’s heading out of the Great Hall, her friends and George all casting her back worried glances.

Y/N spends all day ignoring George despite his efforts to get her to pay attention to him. He spends all of Potions throwing rolled up pieces of parchment at her back, he tries to pull faces at her all during lunch and he spends most of charms slipping her notes. It had taken all of her willpower not to let him break her down. She’s so desperately in love with him that she’s almost willing to let him break her heart just so she can be close to him again.

“Finally, I’ve been looking for you all evening.”

Y/N doesn’t look up from her Herbology assignment as George takes a seat across from her. Her friends had been giving her worried glances all day, so after a quick dinner she tucked herself away in a corner of the library to avoid the confrontation she’s sure she’d get in the common room. She had figured she’d be safe from George as well, since Y/N is sure she’s never seen him, or Fred enter the library in the seven years they’ve been at school.

“What’s going on with you?” George asks softly when she doesn’t say anything. He’d been looking forward to seeing Y/N in the morning, and after her weird behavior at breakfast he had tried everything to get her attention.

Y/N glances at George quickly before she turns back to her assignment. “I could say the same to you,” she says coldly. When George doesn’t say anything Y/N sighs and puts her quill down, finally looking at George fully. “What were you and Fred talking about this morning? During breakfast.”

George taps his fingers against the table, his eyes starting deeply into Y/N’s. “He was asking me why I got back from my detention so late last night.” His cheeks are flushed pink and Y/N bites her lip to keep from smiling.

“What did you tell him? Did you tell him how easy I was? How desperate I was for you? How I touched myself? That I asked you for permission to finish?” she sneers, suddenly filled with rage.

George’s jaw practically drops to the table, his eyes widening in shock. “What? Why would I say any of that to him?” George asks, watching as Y/N starts to gather up her things.

“Because last night was just some big joke to you, wasn’t it?” she asks, as if the answer is obvious. “You don’t have feelings for me, you were just trying to get me into bed so you could have blackmail material or something. And I fell for it. Because I’m a big dumb idiot who is too in love to realize when she’s being played.”

Before George can even process what Y/N has just said she’s gone, tears streaming down her face and her heart broken in her chest.

“What’s wrong Y/N?” Daphne asks, taking a seat on the edge of her bed.

She isn’t completely surprised that Daphne had come to find her. When Y/N returned from the library, she was full on crying. She had ignored her friend’s attempts to talk to her and stormed right to her dorm room so she could crawl into her bed and sob. Daphne starts to stroke her hair, and Y/N wipes away some of her tears.

“I’m in love with George Weasley,” Y/N mumbles into her pillow.

Daphne’s hand pauses. “Come again?”

“I’m in love with George Weasley,” Y/N huffs, turning over so she’s facing Daphne. Her whole-body tenses, waiting for Daphne to laugh or make some kind of snide comment. But it doesn’t happen. Instead Daphne starts to stroke her hair again as she wipes away some of her tears.

“Honestly that’d make me cry as well,” she says with a laugh, trying to get Y/N to smile. When it works and Y/N cracks a small smile Daphne continues. “So, what happened? Did he say something rude? Because if he did I swear to you I’ll have Adrian and Marcus break into Gryffindor tower and beat him up.”

Y/N can’t help but let out a quiet laugh. She sits up in bed, wiping away the last few tears. “I ran into him last night when I was doing my rounds. And Umbridge almost caught us so we ran and hid in this weird secret passageway and um,” she pauses, swallowing thickly. “We kissed. And fooled around a little. Or a lot.”

“And that’s why you’re crying? Was it bad? Did you fake your orgasm?” Daphne teases.

Y/N rolls her eyes as a blush starts to form on her cheeks. “No, that’s not it. It was quite enjoyable I’ll have you know,” she says playfully, shoving Daphne’s shoulder lightly. “It was what happened afterward.”

“He said something stupid, didn’t he? My offer still stands, I will have Adrian and Marcus go beat him up,” Daphne says her tone serious.

“He didn’t really say anything,” Y/N explains, choosing to ignore Daphne’s threats for now. “But you said it yourself this morning at breakfast. He was talking with Fred, probably planning some prank on me.” Y/N pauses to swallow the lump in her throat and blink away the tears that threaten to spill down her cheeks. “It was all probably just some prank or set up or blackmail or something. I mean why would he wanna be with me,” she says lamely, looking down at her hands.

Daphne scoffs and puts her finger under Y/N’s chin, forcing her to return her gaze. “If George Weasley doesn’t want to be with you then he is a big fat idiot. Y/N you are amazing. And beautiful and smart and way too nice for your own good. You may have questionable taste in men, but I’ve been snogging Marcus since third year so I’m not really one to judge.”

Y/N laughs and pulls Daphne into a hug. Her heart still aches for George, but she feels a tiny bit better knowing that she has Daphne on her side.

Despite the fact that Y/N has been ignoring George all day, she finds herself heading to the Room of Requirement on Wednesday evening for a DA meeting. There are nervous butterflies in her stomach as she approaches but she doesn’t turn back. The DA is one of the only good things she’s had going on this year, and she’ll be damned if she lets George Weasley ruin that for her. Y/N had felt his eyes on her all day, and she hates to admit that it made her feel lightheaded.

She stops outside of the room of requirement to collect herself. Y/N takes a few deep breaths, trying to clear the thoughts of George from her mind. She’s semi-successful and she holds her head high as she throws the door open and steps inside.

“What the fuck?” she says, her eyes wandering around the room as the door shuts behind her. Y/N had certainly not been expecting the scene around her when she walked in. The room is dimly lit, with most of the lighting coming from candles that are floating around the room. There’s no furniture or practice dummies in sight, and the only other person in the room is George. He’s standing smack in the middle of the room watching her, a small smile on his face.

“I couldn’t think of any other way to get you alone,” he says after a moment, reaching a hand out towards Y/N. “So, I had Hermione send an alert out to your Galleon and hoped that you would show up.”

Y/N walks further into the room cautiously, still unsure as to what exactly is going on. She stands a few feet away from George, resisting the urge to take his hand and fall into his chest. “Okay but why?.” She pauses, her eyes scanning the room again. “If this is some kind of elaborate set up and Fred is about to jump out of somewhere I swear to Merlin George I will kill you.”

George chuckles and shakes his head, taking a step towards Y/N. When she doesn’t flinch, he takes another one. “I promise you; Y/N. Fred is nowhere near here.” He bites his lip, looking at Y/N closely. “This is just me, desperately trying to fix whatever mess I got us into.” When she doesn’t say anything George continues, needing to fill the awkward silence of the room. “Tuesday night was incredible. Best night of my life, hands down. I thought, I thought things would be different with us, afterwards. But then you didn’t even look at me all day yesterday and last night in the library that stuff you said,” he cuts himself off, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I clearly did something wrong, but I’ve spent the past 24 hours thinking about everything I did, and I can’t seem to figure it out.”

“You didn’t say anything,” she says quietly after she lets George’s words soak in. When George raises his eyebrow in confusion she sighs. “On Tuesday, after everything that happened,” she clears her throat, trying to will the blush on her cheeks away. “When we were leaving you didn’t say anything. You just kind of left. I thought that it was just a one-time thing, that it didn’t mean the same to you as it did to me,” she admits quietly.

Y/N lets her eyes wander around the room, needing to look anywhere except for George’s face. Y/N likes to keep walls up around herself. She makes exceptions for her friends and her parents, the people she loves, but she keeps them up around others. She doesn’t like to show weakness, she doesn’t want to give people the opportunity to hurt her. On Tuesday Y/N had let all of those walls crumble to the ground the second George had kissed her and it felt incredible. She felt like she could truly be herself around him, and as much as she wishes she could build those walls up around her again it’s too late. Y/N has no choice but to stand here in this room and let George in.

“And then I just got all in my head,” she continues a moment later, finally letting herself look at George. Her heart is fluttering, and she can’t help but notice how good he looks. “When I went to breakfast that morning and you were whispering with Fred it looked like you guys were plotting something, like a prank or something. And it made me think that Tuesday was just some stupid prank. That you were gonna use the things I said against me, to embarrass me or something,” she mutters.

“Darling,” George starts, taking the last few steps to close the distance between them. He cups her cheek with one hand while the other reaches for one of hers. Y/N lets him grab her hand, and he intertwines their fingers. “I should have said something that night. There was so many things I wanted to say. But I didn’t want to overwhelm you. After that night we spent in detention I started to feel differently towards you. I knew you felt something too, but I wasn’t sure if you had realized it yet or not. So, when we left the passageway that night I wanted to give you time, to process everything.”

“I feel like such an idiot,” Y/N admits with a small smile. “I should have just said something instead of letting myself overthink it. I don’t like letting people in. But for some reason when I’m around you I can’t help but let you in. That night in detention I told you things not even Daphne knows. And then Tuesday, some of the things I said, I did,” she cuts herself off, a shiver running down her spine. “I’ve never let anyone see that side of me before and yet a few kisses from you had me blubbering like an idiot.”

“Blubbering like a wicked sexy idiot, darling,” George teases with a chuckle. He leans down and kisses her briefly. “I’m sorry, for not being clearer with my intentions.”

Y/N rolls her eyes, but there’s a warm smile on her face. “And what are those intentions?”

Her eyes flutter closed as George kisses her deeply, both of his hands landing on her bum, giving it a tight squeeze. She moans into the kiss and lets George’s tongue in to explore her mouth. She wraps her arms around George’s neck and pulls him flush to her body. George pulls away suddenly, with Y/N trying to chase his mouth.

George chuckles when she pouts at him. “To answer your question, darling. First, I’m going to fuck you into the mattress over there like the dirty little girl you are.” George pauses, pressing a kiss to Y/N’s lips as a shiver runs down her spine. “And then I’m going to hold you close and whisper how much I love you into your ear.”

Y/N pulls George’s face down and presses their lips together hotly, kissing him desperately. She jumps up, her legs wrapping around his waist and his hands gripping her bum tightly. George carries her over to the bed that had appeared at some point in the past few minutes and throws her down on it. He loosens his tie and throws it off over his head and starts to work on the buttons of his shirt. Y/N watches his fingers move, practically drooling as his pale chest becomes more and more exposed to her.

“What are you waiting for? Permission,” George teases, his voice gravelly and his eyes dark. “Get naked,” he demands a moment later when she still doesn’t move. “Let me see all of you.”

George’s voice causes goosebumps to appear all over Y/N’s body and her core starts to ache. She can already feel herself getting wet, and the way George is looking at her as she rids herself of her clothes is only making it worse.

In a matter of moments, they’re both naked, and Y/N can feel her skin flushing under George’s gaze. He’s standing by the edge of the bed, slowly stroking himself as his eyes run over her naked body. Her body is aching for his touch, and she squirms under his intense gaze. “Please, George,” she moans, one of her hands coming up to toy with her breasts.

In an instant George is on top of her, kissing her messily as his hands touch every inch of skin they can. He bats away the hand that’s palming her breast so he can take over, his fingers starting to toy with her sensitive nipple. Y/N moans into George’s mouth, arching her back to press herself up into him harder. George practically growls at her actions and his other hand grabs her left thigh, forcing her legs apart.

“What do you want, darling?” he asks hotly, his lips trailing kisses down her neck. “My fingers?” He releases her thigh and starts to ghost his fingers up her it towards her folds. “My mouth?” He latches onto her neck and starts to lightly suck, causing a sinful whine to leave her lips.

Y/N tangles her fingers in George’s hair, tugging lightly as she squirms under his touch. “Both, please,” she begs, her breath coming out in hard pants. George’s fingers have finally reached her core, and his index finger has started to slowly circle her clit.

“Both, hm? What a needy little girl you’re being, Y/N,” he chides, his mouth continuing to trail kisses down her neck and over her chest. “But how can I say no? Not when you’re being such a good girl and asking so nicely.”

Y/N moans. George’s thumb has started to rub soft circles on her clit while his mouth wraps around her breast, sucking her nipple lightly. When George had called her a good girl at the beginning of term it had filled her with rage, but now as he slowly pushes his index finger inside of her tight walls she thinks she could come just from him calling her that alone.

“Fuck, George,” she whines, clenching around his finger as he curls it inside of her. She can feel his smirk as he kisses down her stomach. Her hips start to move off of the bed as he starts to slowly fuck her with his finger. His free hand flies to her hip and pins it down against the bed.

“Don’t be so impatient, darling. I’m going to take my time with you,” he scolds. He pulls his finger out slowly, and when he pushes it back in another has joined it, causing Y/N to gasp. “You sound so pretty, darling. Such pretty noises,” he praises.

George moves down the bed as his lips ghost over her hip so he can position himself better for what’s about to happen. He stops his movements on her pussy suddenly, causing Y/N to whine at the loss. He grabs her thighs and pushes them farther apart, so she’s spread open for him. “Such a pretty pussy you have, darling,” he groans, his eyes gazing over her dripping folds. Y/N tries to shut her legs, but George’s grip tightens on her thighs, keeping them open. “Don’t be shy, darling,” he teases.

Y/N is writhing in George’s grasp, one hand is toying with her nipples while the other grips the bed sheets. “George, please,” she begs again, needing him to touch her. George chuckles and suddenly his mouth is on her, lightly sucking on her clit. “Oh fuck,” she shouts, her hand leaving her breast to tangle in George’s hair.

George’s tongue starts to tease Y/N’s clit, wrapping around the bud slowly before pulling away and coming to lightly flick at it. He wraps his arm around her left thigh as she begins to move her hips, forcing her back down against the bed. “Gonna need to get some rope to tie you up, keep you nice and open for me,” he murmurs before putting his mouth back on her aching core.

“Holy fuck, George,” Y/N moans as he suddenly plunges two fingers into her heat. She can’t help the sounds that are coming out of her mouth as George pleasures her, images of George tying her up floating in her mind. George hums in laughter as his fingers curl and brush up against Y/N’s sweet spot, causing her to moan again.

Y/N can feel her orgasm approaching, can feel the arousal building in her stomach. She wiggles her hips, trying to move away from George, and a squeal falls from her mouth when he pulls her even closer to his face. She grips his hair tightly and her toes curl as her orgasm approaches. Y/N yanks the sheets hard, her mouth opening and shutting unable to form a coherent thought due to George’s relentless pleasure.

“George please,” she sobs, her eyes screwing shut from the sheer amount of pleasure coursing through her body. Her legs are shaking as George licks at her core, his fingers hitting the spot inside her that drives her crazy with every thrust. “I need you. I need you to, George, please,” she begs. She’s teetering on the edge of her release, just needing that one final push that only George can provide.

“Need me to what, darling?” he asks coyly as he pulls his face away from her pussy. His thumb takes over the assault on her clit his tongue had been doing before, starting to rub it in hard circles.

“Please,” she begs again, tears starting to leak out the side of her eyes. Y/N has never been this turned on in her life. Her body is trembling, her need for release overwhelming every part of her.

George presses a few kisses to the hot skin on the inside of her thigh to hide his smile. Y/N looks absolutely ethereal as she wriggles in his grasp, begging him to let her come. Her hair is splayed out on the pillow behind her, and her neck looks like it’s begging to be bit. Her whole body is flushed, and a sheen of sweat has appeared over her skin.

“You are absolutely gorgeous, Y/N,” he compliments as he situates himself on top of her again. He leans on his forearm and presses their lips together briefly. “Such a good girl, darling. Go on be a good girl, come for me.”

George kisses her again as she comes, groaning as her walls tighten around his fingers. Y/N’s whole-body shakes as she comes, and George continues to slowly rub her clit as she comes down from her high. With one final curl of his fingers he removes them from her heat.

“You are a goddess,” he murmurs against her lips before he pulls away.

Y/N opens her eyes, smiling up at George. “And you’re a bloody fucking tease.”

George laughs and rolls onto his back, his arm winding around Y/N’s waist to pull her on top of him. Y/N giggles in delight, pressing their lips together in a heated kiss. She lets her hand trail along his chest as they kiss, pausing as she reaches his groin. “Now see if I really was a good girl,” she mocks her fingertips dancing on the skin just above the base of his cock. “I’d touch you but.” She sighs and brings her hand back up to rest on George’s chest. “I’m feeling kinda naughty.”

“Bold tactic for a girl who was just begging me to let her come a few seconds ago,” George responds playfully, leaning up to press their lips together again. Y/N squeals when George pulls her fully on top of him so she’s straddling his waist. “I know I said I was gonna fuck you into the mattress but,” he says with a sigh when he breaks their kiss. “I don’t know if naughty girls deserve my cock.”

Despite the fact that she had just come a few seconds ago, Y/N’s pussy is aching again. She pouts down at George, rolling her hips. A satisfied smirk appears on her face when he groans. “What if I promise to be a good girl?”

George rolls them over so she’s underneath him. “I think I can make an exception.” Y/N laughs as George kisses her and winds her legs around his waist. George lines himself up with her entrance, breaking their kiss so he can look at her. “Ready?” When Y/N nods George pushes his hips forward and slowly enters Y/N.

“Oh my god, George,” she gasps as her hands come up to grip his shoulders. George doesn’t stop until his hips are flush against Y/N’s bum.

“Fucking hell you’re tight, Y/N,” he groans, burying his face in her neck. He lets out another groan as Y/N’s walls clench around him.

“Fuck me George, please,” she demands, squeezing his shoulders.

George chuckles into her neck and pulls out of her halfway before he slams back in, starting to slowly fuck her. “Since you asked so nicely,” he teases, pressing an open mouth kiss to her jaw.

For a few minutes all the noise that can be heard is Y/N and George’s combined moans as well as skin slapping on skin. George grabs Y/N’s leg and throws it over his shoulder so he can fuck into her deeper and the head of his cock is now rubbing her sweet spot with every thrust.

“Oh fuck,” Y/N moans, scratching her nails down George’s back. “Feels so good, George. ‘M already close.”

“Fuck me too,” he growls, leaning down to whisper in her ear. “You feel so fucking good, darling.” He presses a few kisses into the skin below her ear. “Go on, darling. Come for me when you’re ready. Didn’t even need to touch your little clit, did I? Such a good girl, coming from just my cock.”

George’s words tip Y/N over the edge and she throws her head back, George’s name falling from her mouth. Her walls tighten and twitch around George, causing him to reach his climax as well. He empties himself inside of Y/N, his hips slowly rolling into her to help them both come down from their highs.

Once George’s cock has stopped twitching and Y/N’s breathing starts to slow down, George carefully pulls out of her and collapses on the bed next to her. George opens up his arm and Y/N rolls into his side, burying her face in the crook of his neck. She peppers soft kisses to the sweaty skin as George starts to rub her back.

“It’s not fair, you know,” George says as Y/N trails a few kisses up his neck and across his jaw.

Y/N pecks his lips softly. “What’s not fair?” she asks with a chuckle.

George pouts at her and she kisses him briefly again. “Every time we get intimate you get to come twice, and I only get to come once. That’s totally not fair.”

Y/N laughs and buries her face in George’s neck again. “Well maybe if you were a good boy I’d let you come more than once,” she teases.

George’s fingers dig into Y/N’s side as he holds her in place, tickling her mercilessly. Y/N shrieks with laughter, desperately trying to wiggle away from George’s grasp. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she laughs, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. George tickles her for another moment before he stops, one of his hands resting on the small of Y/N’s back and the other grabs hers.

“I love you,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

Y/N looks up at him and presses a kiss to the underside of his jaw. “I love you too.”

The next morning as Y/N drags George over to the Slytherin table for breakfast she can hear Ginny shouting at Ron.

“I told you, you absolute numpty! You owe me a Galleon!”

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