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be11atrixthestrange · 2 months

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Bathroom Light

It's been two years since I've written anything, but I heard the song Bathroom Light by Mt. Joy, and this story wrote itself. Rated M for Ron's thoughts. <3

***

Find me a lane to drive through

In a Halloween costume

I'm an astronaut without you

As usual, the Three Broomsticks was bursting with Hogwarts students on a Saturday night. Echoes of conversations bounced off the walls, cluttering Ron’s mind like a cloud of wrackspurts, which made it even harder than usual to focus on his date. Lavender had been chatting about a new beauty charm she learned from Parvati. Or was it from Witch Weekly? Honestly, Ron didn’t know, but apparently it had something to do with volumizing curls. Maybe.

Ron stared into his half empty butterbeer. Although he was tempted to chug the rest of it, he just knew that if someone in particular saw him gulping it down like a river troll, she’d disapprove. He shouldn’t care what that someone in particular would think, as they weren’t even on speaking terms, but for some reason he still did.

“Are you listening to me?”

Ron’s skin prickled at her question, and his fingers clenched around his glass of butterbeer. “Yes, of course I’m listening,” he lied.

“Then what did I just say?” asked Lavender, one eyebrow raised.

“Something about beauty charms…”

Lavender’s eyes narrowed.

“Beauty charms that you don’t even need.”

Ron’s shoulders relaxed when Lavender’s face softened into a grin. “Aww. You’re sweet.”

He smiled back at her and took in her features. She wore a different color lipstick than usual for their date, and it had taken Ron by surprise when he first saw her. Lavender had seemed hurt by his reaction. He tried to assure her that he didn’t think of her lipstick color as good or bad, but apparently that was the wrong thing to say.

Truth be told, he didn’t actually know what Lavender looked like without all the effort, but he knew better than to mention that. She took great pride in her appearance and wanted validation — that Ron could understand. Some guys equated makeup and beauty charms with deceit, and Ron really didn’t want to be one of those guys. But was it wrong to want to know what your girlfriend really looked like?

And honestly, he’d love to go on a date that had the potential of ruining someone’s perfectly curated hair. Lavender wouldn’t even watch one of his Quidditch games if it was raining for fear of ruining her appearance. Even though that would mean so much more to him than finding a never-before-seen shade of lip balm just for him. He couldn’t shake the image of someone else sitting in the stands at a particularly stormy Quidditch game, her curls soaked down to heavy waves that stuck to her face, completely unbothered by the fact that she looked like she’d nearly drowned in the great lake.

As if reality read his mind, those same curls caught his eye, bouncing along the edge of the pub toward the loo. His eyes immediately followed Hermione until the light of the bathroom hallway illuminated her. Who was she here with? Harry or Ginny? Neither had mentioned anything about going to Hogsmeade tonight, and the thought made his stomach feel as heavy as a bezoar. Was she on a date?

The persistent thought, the one that he was usually pretty good at keeping at bay flooded into his mind like a dam had broken. What would happen if he followed her?

We're twisting our way to the back of the bar

Yeah, locking the door, falling into the stall…

Maybe she would respond positively. Those canaries meant something. No one would attack a person for kissing someone else if they only held platonic feelings. Ron definitely wasn’t wrong about that. It was possible that she’d welcome a grand gesture from him.

Was following her into a bathroom stall in a crowded pup a grand gesture? It surely wasn’t on the same level as hiring a string quartet or writing a romantic poem. But if memories of a rogue mountain troll served him correctly, it wouldn’t be the first time their relationship changed in a bathroom.

Suppose he got up, followed her, and she invited him in. Then what?

That would never happen. But it didn’t hurt to imagine, right?

Stripping you down to your jewelry

You're breaking the rules just for me

What a life under big stars and a good woman in charge

Got me falling in, got me falling in hard.

Would she want him to kiss her the way he kissed Lavender in the common room that first time? Because honestly, he probably couldn’t. It would be so different.

If he kissed Hermione in that bathroom there would be no hesitation. His mind wouldn’t freeze and turn on autopilot without a moment’s thought about the fallout of his actions. He’d kiss her not in spite of the consequences, but because of them. Could a kiss ruin their friendship?

So be it, ruin the friendship. Sometimes things needed to burn down to grow back stronger.

It wouldn’t just be a kiss. If the scars on his arms meant anything, she had passion. Sure, that manifested poorly sometimes, but it wouldn’t in that bathroom. He could just imagine her tugging at his shirt while he plucked at the buttons on her blouse, pieces of clothing hitting the floor one by one, until all she was left wearing was that perfume he got her back in fifth year.

He’d run his fingers through her perfectly voluminous curls that needed no beauty charms, and maybe she’d bite down on his lip as her bare legs wrapped around his waist. His fingers would dig into the skin of her thighs, and she’d groan her approval, which would have a similar effect to setting Ron on fire.

Something Ron loved about Hermione was her relationship with rules. She knew the ins and outs of every rule in the book, so when it came time to break them, she was the one to ask. She could get away with anything without risking her perfect reputation, especially for someone she cared about. Setting a professor’s robes on fire? Check. Blackmailing and transfiguring a nefarious journalist? Check. Jinxing the D.A. sign up sheet? Check. That one time she snuck a flask of firewhiskey on a prefect round, and they skipped patrol to drink in an empty classroom? Check. Harry didn’t even believe Ron when he told him about that last one, and honestly, Ron preferred it that way. It made it seem special.

If breaking rules was Ron’s love language, Hermione was fluent, and she only spoke it for him.

So even though he was on a date with someone else, and maybe she was too, it wasn’t difficult to imagine her fully letting him in under the dim bathroom light. He’d prop her up on the sink; she’d tug on his front zipper and slip him out of his trousers. And despite the fact that they were in a dingy stall in the bathroom of an overcrowded pub, he’d do to her what he’d only ever imagined in his dreams. Fuck the consequences.

Shag her best friend in the bar bathroom? She definitely would. Check.

So, come on, baby, let's do this right

I think I like falling in love in the bar bathroom light

I won't question it, I won't mess with it, if it's there go grab it

Tell your friends you love who they are

“Ron, are you okay?”

Lavender sat with her elbows on the table, head cocked to the side, a look of concern on her face.

“Yeah. Why?” he asked, trying his best to hide the resentment creeping up from the fact that she yanked him from the most beautiful daydream.

“You seem distracted.”

Ron immediately felt heavy with guilt. What was wrong with him? He was here with a gorgeous woman, and couldn’t control the trajectory of his fantasies.

“I’m sorry. Just tired,” he lied. In fact, he was more energized than ever. “Can we go back?”

“Yeah,” said Lavender, with a brief flash of disappointment on her face. “Want to finish your beer first?”

Ron glanced at his butterbeer, still half empty. Hermione obviously wasn’t looking, so he put the glass to his lips and chugged it.

“Let’s go,” he said. The pair stood up to leave, and Lavender reached for his hand. Who was he to think of makeup and beauty charms as deceit when he was the one imagining shagging someone else in the bathroom?

Yet, on the way out the door, it took everything he had to avoid stealing one more glance toward the bathroom at the back of the bar.

#romionefic #ron x hermione #romione #ron and hermione #hpromione #hermione granger #ron weasley #hermione #hbp missing moment #romioneangst #songfic #angst #one shot

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beautifulbuckys · 2 years

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Can’t Stay Away (1)

Out of all of the wizarding kids Harry’s best friends could’ve been, why did it need to be a Weasley?

George Weasley x Reader

A/N: Hello! I’m back to writing! I’ve been in a huge Harry Potter phase recently. So...I’m doing some come back writing with a multi-part story! Enjoy!!

Warnings: Some swearing, enemies to lovers. Some back and forth between characters! No use of Y/N

Out of all of the wizarding kids' Harry’s best friends could’ve been, why did it need to be a Weasley?

Don’t get me wrong, the Weasley’s are a lovely family. Molly treats me with warmth as she would another daughter. Arthur would send me owl after owl questioning me on muggle happenings. Whenever I could see Charlie and Bill it was always pleasant. Percy would be tolerable at best. Fred constantly dropped flowers off in my dorm room yet always denied it. Ron confided in me and trusted me with anything regarding Harry. Ginny was almost like a little sister to me, I’d braid her hair and she showed me how to sew.

George?

Where do I begin?

Since we began our first year, he found a way to get under my skin. Literally. Once a spell he meant to cast on Filch backfired and lead me to the uncomfortable feeling of movement under my skin for 3 weeks. A time after that, he’d stained my silk scarf gifted to me by Harry when we were small. If you add on the act that he’s loud, disruptive, unruly, and barbaric; he’s a total unlikeable package!

The worst of it? The time he broke my pearl necklace during a failed escape from Snape after a prank. He’d collided with me right by the corridor closest to the Great Hall. Our chests collided violently and he pushed himself away. Unfortunately taking my necklace with him. The same necklace that my Mom had gifted to me when I was around 3. The last thing I had to remind me of her. The closest thing I had to her.

Fred had begged and pleaded with me to forgive George. Damage was done.

And since, I haven’t had a pleasant experience with him. Yet I find myself at the Weasley’s crumbling house every summer. It’s become a routine since we left the Dursleys. I’d room with Ginny, while Harry would stay with Ron. It worked out perfectly. Ginny and I would find ourselves sitting in the glowing sun helping Molly with the gardening. I found it quite peaceful. Us three stuck together a lot considering the amount of testosterone that lived in the Burrow. We’d sit in the same corner of the wobbly, patchy wood dinner table that sat in the middle of the cramped dining room. We’d share tea and Molly would educate us on the proper ways to crochet or knit.

Harry was surrounded by the lively Weasley boys. I never see them repeating a single task during the day, always onto something new. They’ll have practice quidditch matches during midday. Harry and Ron always manage to be on the same team, much like Fred and George. They’d move onto roughhousing near the garden patch, leading to a solid scolding done by Molly. I’d never missed the few occasions the boys would disappear for hours, only to return muddy and worn.

Today was no different.

“Oi, boys! What have I said about you lot wrestling in the mud! I absolutely refuse to clean this laundry. Fred and George. First to the showers! You’re helping us with dinner this evening!” Molly shouted at the returning group from just behind a small berry bush sitting outside the kitchen window.

Fred scoffed, throwing his pale arms into the air. “Mum! We were having fun, Harry learned some new moves!”

Nevertheless, the twins disappeared inside.

“I don’t know what I’ll do with those two boys. Always dabbling into trouble.” Molly turned to me, pushing a small ginger back curl with her forearm.

The sun was just beginning to set, creating a soft pink and orange hue in the sky. Whenever sunsets like this happened, they made me smile. Orange was a happy color. It reminded me of the Weasley family no matter the hassle they added to your lives. The Weasleys were my found family. Whenever a tough day happened and a sunset like this followed, I couldn’t help but picture the zany family bouncing in the sky.

I barely realized I was spacing out before a tall figure appeared to the right of me.

George.

I looked over to my left, where he stood next to me. He was wearing a periwinkle tee that wasn’t shy highlighting the slight muscle tone in his arms. George’s fiery hair was messy and wet. Some pieces clung to his forehead, while others stuck up like bedhead. Small freckles dusted his nose, adding a pop of color to his otherwise pale face.

“What’s got your focus?” He spoke softly. The kitchen was bustling with life, a few Weasleys and Harry running to help with supper. I was assigned to snap the ends of the fresh green beans we had grown. George picked up a few from the pile in front of me and began assisting.

“Nothing too important.”

“Seems it.” He pushed.

I tilt my head slightly in his direction. His tall frame is balanced on the aged kitchen counted by his hip. George’s legs were crossed, his patched white ankle socks slightly revealing themselves from underneath his discolored red pajamas.

“What’s it to you, Weasley?”

The sharp corners of his mouth perk into a smirk. “I can’t help but notice I’m the only one you call Weasley. I live in a house full of Weasleys. Yet Ron is Ron. Percy is Percy. Bill is Bill. But I’m Weasley.” I finally turn my head fully in his direction. His smirk is still prevalent on his face. I wanted to smack it off of him.

“Congratulations.” I sassed.

George snapped an end of a green bean off, tossing it in his mouth. “Someone is awfully snippy today,” He whispered. “Harry get some mud on your scarf?” The smirk he had been wearing never left his face. It sat, proud. What an asshole.

Thankfully, Molly had swiped me away to set the dinner table. The table, obviously repaired to expand its area, was rough and bumpy. There were a few times I’d assisted Harry and Ron with splinters they gained from the old piece of furniture. It was wobbly. What some would consider run down, I’d call it well loved. The original table dawned a dark oak color. The staining darkened the color and once made the woodwork shine. The first addition to the table was some leftover wood from Molly’s garden boxed. It was a birch slab nailed onto the original table. When a table cloth covered the table, a large dip was noticeable due to the level difference. The legs were also constructed with scrap pieces, causing one leg to be longer than the other. Yet, it still held the original charm the initial table was blessed with.

Molly had handed me an emerald green table cloth to cover the rugged surface. The various sets of worn china decorated the tabletop. Small ivory plates decorated with cornflowers were scattered on the table. While Arthur and Molly’s seats had the older, cream and rose plates they loved. Molly’s mother had gifted the couple with this set of dinnerware after their wedding. It definitely didn’t go unappreciated.

As the family settled down for dinner, conversations varied from Harry’s dream last night to Ron’s rat eating a hole through Percy’s special prefect robes.

“That damn rat needs some bloody training. He’s the worst behaved Weasley! And that’s counting Ron! Do you have any idea how much those robes cost?” Percy whined, gripping his chipped metal fork. His thin eyebrows furrowed, causing a horrible wrinkle on his forehead.

Ron shoved a slab of chicken breast into his mouth. “The school gave them to you.” He spoke with his mouth full. Thin pieces of chicken slipped out of his mouth while speaking.

Percy glared at Ron.

“They’re priceless.”

I giggled at Ron’s antics, him joining me. Percy began ranting about how his position of power made Ron jealous and that’s why he sent Scabbers to go chew a hole in the hood of the robe. While rambling, he flailed his frail arms into the air; nearly smacking Fred in the process. Fred dodged the hit dramatically while scoffing.

“Oi, can you watch where you’re swinging those muscles? I get you’ve been doing 5 push-ups every night but spare us from your fury,” The older twin snickered. The dim yellow lights of the Burrow cast a shadow down his face. His brow bones shadowed his chocolate eyes. From this angle, he could’ve been mistaken for one of those cheap muggle Halloween statues.

Percy didn’t take this comment lightly. He shut up quickly and began rapidly eating his food. Occasionally, he’d mumble something under his breath and glare at Ron.

“Dear brother I think you hurt poor Percy’s feelings!” George gasped. He raised his hands to his cheeks and feigned a shocked expression. Slight chuckles could be heard from Ginny beside me. “I demand at once that you apologize to my esteemed relative. If you don’t, I fear your food may be coming out from the other end!” George’s fake expression was replaced by a boyish grin. If you looked closely, you just see the tiniest dimple on both corners of his mouth.

“Thank you, Geor-” Percy began.

“My brother cannot help the brute strength that he gets from being part cyclops! It already ruins his self-esteem enough that he looks like one. Do not begin to make him fear using his true strength around those he’s supposed to feel safe around.” The entire table of Weasley’s erupted in laughter, excluding Molly. Ginny’s face could match her hair color. I could’ve sworn I saw tears falling from the corners of Fred’s eyes. I laughed too, I can’t lie about that. I’ve always found Percy to be tightly wound and in need of a serious laugh every once in a while.

As I wiped the falling tears from my face, I glanced across the table. George was staring right at me. We made brief eye contact before I broke it, bringing my eyes to the meal in front of me.

Shit. I laughed at George Weasley’s joke. I broke my front.

Dinner otherwise was rather peaceful. Of course, Molly scolded both twins for picking on their older brother. Arthur included himself in the punishment too. I’m assuming it was to cover up the fact that he slammed the table laughing in reaction to the conversation. Molly definitely saw it though. She was just letting him off easy. Percy left the table the second he finished his plate. As he stomped up the stairs, Ginny heard him grumbling about how Fred and George would soon get a reality check. Soon after that, a nearby door slam shook the Burrow.

As the evening continued, members of the Weasley family dropped like flies. Ginny was the first to go to bed. Eventually, Fred and Harry followed. Molly and Arthur disappeared without a word. Ron sat with me by the fireplace for a while.

The familiar warmth of the Weasley fireplace was always comforting to me. I spent hours tutoring Ron and Harry on charms homework during cold winter nights by the fireplace. I experienced my first heartbreak here. 2nd year, after Clarence Hillbox broke up with me the day before the summer break. Molly sat with me all day, comforting me and telling me about Arthur’s first fight.

“He had shattered my father’s vase! He was meeting my family. He tried teaching my younger brother the wonders of muggle ‘baseball’. Somehow in the mix, a ball flew in the opposite direction straight through the den window! Completely shattered the family heirloom that had been in the family for over 800 years!”

I sniffled. “Did he make it up to you? Or your Dad?”

Molly’s familiar smile appeared on her round face. “Well, he tried. He took me to a muggle pottery barn to paint a new one. He paid for the costs, and let me do anything my heart desired. He was the one to pick it up from the barn and brought it to my Dad. Obviously, he was still hurt but he appreciated it.”

Ron and I sat in silence for a while, staring at the yellow and orange flames that danced on the charred logs. Then I felt the couch dip to my right.

“Hope I’m not interrupting something.” The loudest, and younger of the twins broke the silence.

Silently, Ron stood up and left the room. Not a ‘goodbye’ or a ‘goodnight’ left his mouth. His soft footsteps could be heard above my head, walking quickly to his room. Great. Now Weasley and I are left alone.

I clear my throat, “Not exactly. My scowl must’ve been present on my face, as his face dropped slightly once he looked at me. “I was just hanging out with your brother. Obviously, he had other plans. So now I’m left alone.” My hands were fidgeting with the hems of my sleep shorts. There were a few frayed strings that stuck out from the sides.

“But I’m here.”

“Take the hint, Weasley.” I groaned, pulling the sides of my shorts out in frustration. He chuckled softly, turning his head to look at the fire. However, his arm had other plans. It snaked its way behind the back of the plush couch. His pink knuckles sitting inches from my cheekbone. I turned my head slightly, to see exactly how he was sitting. As he obviously wasn’t getting up. His broad-shouldered form sat comfortably on the seat. His left ankle was balanced on his right though, legs forming a perfect 4. Due to his arms being raised, his shirt lifted a little. A small blue boxer line peeked out from under his pajama bottoms.

“I can’t stand you.” He said.

I frown. “Yet you can’t seem to leave me alone.

“Touche.”

And for the first time ever, I didn’t want to smack George Weasley across the face.

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deardoiloveyou · 6 months

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Your Fluttering Heart୨♡୧ ｡ﾟ

Notes: Lots of fluff, romance, Gryffindor!reader, y/n not used, setting can be anywhere your heart desires

Characters: Hermione, Harry, Ron, Draco

prompt: you confess your feelings ...

𓂃𓏲࣪ Hermione Granger

She would most likely respond with a small gasp as her face turned red and both of your heart's skipped a beat

"I love you," "too, I don't know how to explain my feelings but the way you make me feel - is almost indescribable"

She would give you a warm embrace as you hid your face in her neck, she would gently ruffle your hair as you let out a small sob of relief after finally being able to confess your feelings

Hermione would give you cute pet names like "darling" or "honey" and of course shower you with compliments almost all the time

Both you and Hermione enjoyed reading books together as her cat, Crookshanks curled up on your lap

You both would be a very cute couple and sort of balance each other out, not too loud or obnoxious but a bit petty if one of you got jealous<3

Study dates were an obvious yes, picnics were lovely because you both could enjoy your own hobbies (although you both liked reading and would end up reading books together in almost every date), going to a cozy hogsmeade cafe was 100% a yes, the leaky cauldron was also a good place to discuss matters between everyone (everyone being: you, hermione, ron, and harry - made a wonderful quartet)

𓂃𓏲࣪ Ron Weasley

Ron would start stuttering out of how flustered he was, and you also being very goofy would tease him but in an affectionate way

"I love y-you too, ve-y-very dearly" "I-I hope you didn't mind my ignorance to your hints...I might be blind in that sense"

Ron would slip up his words while accepting your confession, but after getting used to you calling him "love" or "baby" he would give you sweet pet names as well

Ron would give you little gifts (not often but they were always genuine and kindhearted) like your favorite flower, or he would get you cute little hairclips<3

Ron wasn't the best at coordinating dates with you but he spent as much time as he could with you, even when hanging out with the rest of the quartet he would gently squeeze your hand or give you a kiss on the cheek

When you two did hang out it would either be in the garden, he would enjoy the dewy scent of the morning air with you over a cup of tea, or during breakfast he would give you a bunch of pancakes (slightly to Hermione's dislike because of S.P.E.W but she also wanted you to enjoy breakfast)

You both wouldn't go to Hogsmeade often but when you did Ron would spend almost every last galleon he saved getting what you wanted<3

You were a pretty good influence on Ron- trying to keep him out of detention (sometimes to no avail but you didn't mind getting in a bit of trouble yourself), and Mrs. Weasley definitely liked you (she sent you yummy treats and loving letters when she could)

You both had a goofy sense of humor which created a fun atmosphere and people loved hanging out with you two

𓂃𓏲࣪ Harry Potter

Harry would start feeling like his heart was about to jump out of his chest, he wasn't embarrassed but more so flustered and his thoughts were "How could you, of all beautiful people ever like.. me?" once Harry regained his consciousness (he thought he was dreaming for a moment) he replied in a very meek and soft voice

"I-iloveyoutoo"

you would end up having to ask him what he said- which only made him even more flustered but once he replied loud enough and you could comprehend his words, you would give him a soft and loving embrace (one that this touch-starved boy NEEDED)

It would take Harry a long time until he could be used to you calling him "honey" or "my love" without turning redder than his tie (the tie which you would teasingly pull and make him almost faint)

Hedwig almost immediately loved you, giving you affectionate pecks here and there (which was a clear sign to Harry that he was gonna marry you /hj)

Both you and Harry bonded over adventures and getting into a bit of trouble, might I add you both weren't very keen for Snape

Sometimes Harry and you planned to meet up at the library, both huddled under his invisibility cloak studying for a test you both forgot about<3

๋࣭ ⭑Draco malfoy

Malfoy obviously had to scoff when you confessed your feelings for him, yet you felt like he wasn't going to reject you - well, based off of his reddening face and the way his hands shifted shyly trying to hide his feelings as well (mostly for his everlasting pride yet he couldn't help but admit his feelings for you as well)

"Tsk, of course you, a Gryffindor would fall for me" "Well, I accept your proposal, doll"

The pet name already threw you off guard and made you flustered (your plan 100% backfired and now you were fidgeting uncontrollably from being so flustered)

Draco was struggling to keep his composure and not immediately hug and kiss you, but his pride was too strong for that

You gave him a soft hug - a hug that Draco most definitely needed (this boy was also incredibly touch-starved but hated to admit it), he hugged you back but a bit apprehensively

As his cold hands wrapped around you it send shivers down your spine, yet it also made butterflies erupt in your stomach making you quiver a bit in his cold but loving embrace

He gave you lots of kisses, on your neck, your cheek, truly didn't matter where or when - if he wanted to kiss his partner he would

Draco constantly got jealous if a boy laid a single hair on you- even if it was for a justifiable reason

He would immediately walk over to your side or inch closer and wrap his arm around you, squeeze your hand, or even openly kiss you until the boy left and you were left embarrassed (but proud of your boyfriend)

Being in different houses wasn't too much of an issue to Draco, but it definitely made his friends act coldly around you (seeing that you were in the house that had Harry Potter- Draco's enemy)

But thankfully no matter what snide remarks Draco's friends' made he would always defend you and give you even more kisses

Draco loves giving you kisses (if you couldn't tell) and showering you with gifts (this boys' love language is 100% gifts and physical touch), many of the gifts included your favorite brands, expensive jewelry, or anything you said was cute or caught your eye even for a second

Draco was always a little shy when arranging the dates, mostly because he didn't want to hurt his pride but in the end he never regretted it (a lot of the dates would consist of going shopping, going to the leaky cauldron, or just cuddling with you in the library after hours (you're lucky he's a prefect)

Notes: I hope you enjoyed reading this and it brought you some comfort! Have a lovely day<3 ALSO PLEASEE I NEED HERMIONE TO MARRY ME I LOVE HER SM, if you have any suggestions or critiques please do tell me!!

#harrypotter #harry potter x reader #harry potter x y/n #harry potter headcanons #hermione granger #hermione granger x reader #hermione granger x you #ron weasley x reader #ron weasley x you #harry potter fluff #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x you #ILOVEHERMIONESMPLEASE

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sommerregenjuniluft · 8 months

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@jegulus-microfic september 9 — carry — 1.6k words — mentions of sex at the end of the chapter! kinda nsfw

or; in which Regulus has a tense neck and James is so, so helpful <3

Regulus has, frankly, had enough of carrying children around for the next three of his lifetimes.

Ron has busted his knee open on the gravel outside while playing catch and is now crying? Regulus is cradling him close as he whisks back inside and playing doctor as he gets the gentle disinfectant and band-aids. Neville had a little pee accident? Regulus is carrying him to the bathrooms with outstretched arms for a change of clothes. Harry is getting into a fight with another kid over a toy situation involving being mean to Hermoine? Regulus has to swoop down and take him to the quiet room to calm him down and then talk about voicing one’s feelings or getting the help of an adult.

The frown gradually eases off his little forehead behind his round glasses as he listens to Regulus, sniffling occasionally. He has a spiderman themed patch over his left eye that Regulus finds mortifyingly adorable.

Honestly, Regulus would have quit long ago if it wasn’t for how easily these little stinkers have weaseled their ways into his heart.

Regulus is 23 and his back is a tragedy.

His joints bop and creak and the muscles in his neck are stiffer than cement at his point.

Being bent over the low desks in the tiny chairs to help the kids arts and craft the decoration for this Friday’s Halloween party is not doing him any favors either.

“Stan Lee called, he wants his wall-crawling, web-shooting superhero back!” a warm voice comes from the door to their group’s room.

Well, Regulus supposes there might be one or two more reasons besides the kids he likes his job for.

Harry groans next to him without looking up, vaguely wagging his arm in James’ direction, “Noo, daddy, I can’t go yet. I need to finish my snow owl!”

Regulus finally lets himself look up from his seat to catch James crossing his arms and leaning into the doorframe. He’s in a crimson cable knit sweater over a crisp white button down and dark gray slacks that fit inappropriately snug in all the right places.

James nods solemnly, “Right, right, because the other five snow owls taped to your bedroom window need one more for company or they’ll be lonely, huh?”

Harry sighs exasperatedly, “This one’s not coming home with us.”

James raises an eyebrow at Regulus in question, badly concealing his grin.

“These are for the party on Friday,” Regulus supplies helpfully, quickly swiping the glue from Ron before he sticks it in his mouth the fourth time today. Lily was the one to sign herself up for bringing Harry as well as brownies and lemonade so Regulus isn’t too surprised it wasn’t at the front of James’ mind.

This one shoots up then, “Oh, fu—n,” gawking at his own slip-up.

Regulus levels him with an unimpressed stare, lips twitching.

James drives his fingers through his chaotic curls, “Yeah, funny thing, I actually meant to talk to you about it, Regulus.”

A gentle shiver tingles it’s way up Regulus’ spine, “It’s Mr. Black.”

James makes a face that says obviously, “I know, love,” licks his lips to conceal the cheeky smile threatening to spill. Regulus wants to hit him. “Lily actually had something come up, and I was able to postpone a meeting so now I’m the one bringing Harry and staying for the buffet.”

Oh.

“Oh,” Regulus’ jaw might drop a bit.

James hums happily and then steals a pen out of the little basket on the table next the door, “Unfortunately I’m no good with brownies, I do however make the best fruit sticks covered in chocolate— so,” points the pen at Regulus with a grin, “Where do i sign?”

Regulus ducks his head against the flush crawling up his cheeks as he stands up, “Um— I’ll get the list.”

“Oh, no worries, Regulus,” his colleague Dorcas leers from across the table, “I’ve got the gremlins managed. I think James would be happy to head upstairs with you and while you’re at it,” Regulus already knows what’s coming as Dorcas’ smile turns overly sweet, “I’m sure he could give you a hand with my new desk chair with those big muscles of his.”

Regulus looks over at James, “You don’t have t—”

“Lead the way,” James says with a wink.

James carries the oversized carton up the stairs without breaking a fucking sweat while Regulus had taken one look at it, nudged it with a knee to see how heavy it was and then told Dorcas not a chance in hell.

Because, as established, his back is a tragedy and all that.

It’s twinging now too as he takes the thick binder out of the cabinet and drops it on top with a thunk.

Regulus tilts his neck and lets his upper spine crack with a grunt, does the same on the other side while he flicks through the papers.

James looks at him with an unnaturally blank expression when he asks, “You okay?”

Regulus rolls his shoulders to ease the tension, making a non-comical noise.

“Well, it’s no surprise you have some back pain working with children.”

Regulus chuckles humorlessly, flicking a glance James’ way, “What are you, a physio-therapist?”

“Oh,” a smug chuckle that has Regulus turning warily, “Close enough.”

Regulus crosses his arms in front of his chest and waits for him to elaborate.

James cocks his head, mimics his stance and waits him out patiently.

Regulus has half the mind to kick him.

Asks, with an eyeroll that’s nearly painful, “Well, what’s your occupation?”

“I’m a chiropractor.”

“Oh, you’re kidding.”

“Am not, today might just be your lucky day.”

Regulus considers that for a moment.

He could easily shrug it off as a joke. Roll his eyes once more, hand James the damn list to jot down his name and stupid, sexy chocolate covered grapes and strawberries and god knows what else and then kick him the fuck out and back down to collect Harry and have him on his merry way.

He could do that.

Should, probably.

It’s just that his neck really fucking aches and it’s even gotton to the point of disturbing his sleep the past few days.

Regulus sighs, “I don’t have any cash on me right now.”

James snorts, “I didn’t expect you to pay me, love.”

Regulus worries his bottom lip between his teeth for another moment.

“C’mon you look stiff as a board,” James nods his chin at him and Regulus turns dutifully but not without another eyeroll.

James steps closer and immediately draws his left palm up over his back, thumb tracking his spine. “I’m warning you though, these babies have it in them,” digs the pads of his strong fingers into Regulus’ shoulders for enunciation.

Regulus blames what comes out of his mouth next on the mind boggling spice of James’ cologne, “I’m good with hard.”

The hands twitch against Regulus for a moment and he hears a noise that sounds like James is running his tongue along his teeth behind his lips.

Voice husky and breath tickling Regulus’ dark curls, “Alright,” a hand running down Regulus’ spine as a thumb digs into a pressure point in his neck, “Good to know.”

James seems to mostly palpate the hotspots of Regulus cramped muscles and the places of where joints would have to be realigned.

Body heat warm from behind and palms thorough as he kneads Regulus’ hard muscles and puts pressure along where he scans for more issues.

When he circles back to his neck and uses both his hands on one side Regulus can’t help but groan, shivering involuntary.

James makes a small cooing noise, “Yeah, I know, I’m sorry, I'm sorry.”

Regulus pants a breath, shakes his head feebly, “Mm, you’re good.”

“This doesn’t look too good, love,” James voice rumbles, closer to Regulus’ ear now.

Regulus hisses at the sting when James releases the muscle and goes over to the other side. His mouth drops open and he whines too loudly when James picks back up with his administrations.

“Regulus,” if he was less caught up the unforgiving press of his fingers Regulus maybe would have noticed how strangled James sounded.

He works him dutifully through the other side and then slides his palms past Regulus’ shoulder blades and rests them at the dip of his back for a lingering second before gently squeezing at his waist.

Prompts Regulus into turning around and coming to face the other man again.

His lips look a bit redder than Regulus remembers.

“Well, that’s all I can do for now without my office massage table,” James rubs at the back of his neck sheepishly.

Regulus rolls his shoulders out and notes with satisfaction how much looser he feels already, “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it, love,” James replies with a smile so warm Regulus melts a bit around the edges.

He feels embarrassingly gooey.

James ends up filling out the sheet and then leaving with Harry five minutes later.

When he shows up Friday noon he’s clad in ridiculously tight pants again and a ridiculously orange pumpkin jumper. Also cat ears for some reason.

Lily is able to join for a few minutes at the end, watching Harry perform the trick or treating song they had the kids learn and then taking him home.

James ends up staying to help clean up.

He feeds Regulus one of the last chocolate covered fruit sticks—grape, strawberry and blueberries, honey melon and peaches.

Regulus ends up blowing James for it, turning him into a groaning, whimpering mess as he sucks his heavy cock into the back of his throat and James retaliates by realigning his spine in a very non-chiropractor way.

They crush the rest of Molly’s blueberry muffins while they’re at it.

#god im so tired #wrote the last bit barely conscious #suddenly they were fucking?#lol #gnight guys<3 #jegulus microfic #jegulus fic #jegulus #james potter #regulus black #starchaser #sunseeker #james potter x regulus black #regulus black x james potter #lune’s tiny fic

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dramioneasks · 1 month

Note

Just read cleotheo's fic future adventures! I liked the one-sided future fic aspect of how Hermione didn't know this was past Draco. Any other fics where there's a time travel element but only one of the pair travels and is aware they're from the past?

That time I said I love you - Skateland - M, WIP - Hermione Granger was the fourth most surprised person to find out she was in love with Draco Malfoy; after Ron, Harry and Draco himself (in that order). But after working together at the Ministry of Magic for three years she had fallen head over heels and even better, he loved her too. The wedding had been beautiful, their house was cosy, they spent Sundays reading books curled up against each other and an elderly Crookshanks ruled over them benevolently. She couldn’t wait to tell him they were expecting. Tomorrow he would be back from his trip, she would whisper it into his ear and they would celebrate. One small problem, she seems to have woken up in the Gryffindor dormitories as a teenager.

Tell Me about Us - BothMalfoysPlease - G, 5 chapters - The war ended a decade ago but Hermione is thrown back in time to her 8th year at Hogwarts.

The Troublesome Thing About Time by LadyKenz347 - E, 9 chapters - Draco Malfoy has just arrived from twenty years in the future and insists on speaking to his wife, Hermione Granger. The only problem is that the Draco Malfoy she knows is still the snarky, button-pushing boy upstairs-and not the man in front of her now.

Live Again By: Sophie733 - T, 41 chapters - COMPLETE: The war raged 3 years before it was lost. As the only survivor of the light, Hermione casts a spell that takes her back in time. The cost will be heavy as the spell changes events, forcing a friendship to form between enemies. (Eventual)Pairing: Hermione/Draco, (Eventual)Side Pairing: Harry/Luna, T for violence,some language and suggestive content. Edited&Reposted 10/3/17

How Soon Is Tomorrow? By: eevilalice - T, one-shot - It’s the day before winter hols, and Draco can’t wait. Except he’s going to have to because the day won’t end unless he saves Hermione Granger. A lot.

Anywhere by alexandra_emerson - M, 28 chapters, Words: 243,281 - Hermione breaks a time turner. When she jumps to the future, she finds out she’s married to Draco Malfoy and is determined to keep that future from happening. She’s the one in charge here! The future is not inevitable! She will not let herself fall in love with Draco bloody Malfoy! She will fix this!

Still She Rose By: Fawkes01 - M, 19 chapters - After being attacked at a bash, Hermione went home and was discovered by her friend, Draco, the next morning. After some discussion, they decide for her to go back in time to alter a few things. In the end, she goes through hell…twice. She became a victim, and she must fight through it to rise on the other side.

-Lisa

#anonymous #time travel

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callsignthirsty · 2 months

Text

Chapter 3: Behind the Door

Pairing: Tom "Iceman" Kazansky x F!Reader x Ron "Slider" Kerner Summary: Interrupting Iceman. Word Count: 4100 Warnings: Smut, bets and wagers, semi-public sex, fingering Chapter: 3/4 Minors DNI Previous Chapter

Slider's head whips around, shoulders drawn tight toward his ears as the crash of the door startles you both.

"Kerner!"

The split-second of terror subsides with that voice.

Ice.

Slider grunts, stubbornly diving back between your thighs. A man on a mission.

"I know you're up here, and I'm giving you to the count of three."

"No," you whimper, hips rocking against Slider's fingers, urging them to work faster. "Don't stop."

"One."

Instead of responding, Slider's breath ghosts over your clit as he presses two fingers into your cunt, curling them to pinpoint your sweet spot and hurtle you toward the edge.

The click of Ice's shoes is loud as he stalks toward you. "Two."

"So good," Slider hums against your slick skin. You squeeze your eyes closed, keening at the praise. "Almost there, baby."

Sli hisses as fingers fist in his short hair and yank him from between your legs.

"Three."

You whimper at the sudden loss of stimulation and the pour of cool night air over heated skin.

Slider has the audacity to flash Ice a smug smile. "Oh," he says as if he hadn't known the two of you were no longer alone. "Hey, Ice."

Pale eyes narrow as if asking Slider if that's the game they're going to play, then Ice pulls a tissue from his pocket and holds it to his RIO. "You've got lipstick on your face."

Slider's tongue peeks out to lick his lips. "That's not the only thing on my face."

Ice doesn't dignify him with a response, only releasing Slider when he stands and steps back to give you enough space for Ice to resettle you—steadying you on your own two feet and smoothing wrinkled velvet before procuring another tissue to help clean up the rouge smudged beyond the bounds of your lips.

Once you're deemed presentable, Ice descends the steps with his hand wrapped around your wrist, guiding you with an insistent tug that makes you feel more like an insolent child than his date. You want to stamp your feet as Ice assures you that he only needs to talk to a couple more officers he wants to speak with before you can get out of there.

Between the forced separation through staggered travel to D.C. and the night's two encounters—both of which had taken you to the very edge before leaving you high and dry—you're at your limit. So, to say you aren't paying attention to the conversation is an understatement. How are you supposed to pay attention to anything when you're oscillating between the jitters of unsated arousal and lightly filtered frustration?

Because who the hell does he think he is—do they think they are—to draw you into their little macho pissing contest? It's a wonder Iceman and Slider can both fit into the cockpit with their egos so blown out of proportion.

What should it matter in the end? They know you're going home with both of them.

Not that you get to say any of this. Instead, you're left to stew with empty eyes, a pinched smile, and a clenched fist at Ice's side as he makes a good impression on a commander. You're scraping the barrel with each half-hearted laugh at the officer's dull jokes, the Brut in your glass swirling between your fingers untouched. Each shift of your legs brings you closer to angry tears as the spit between them turns tacky, the microabrasions from Slider's stubble smarts reminding you of your lack of undergarment and the dissatisfied, borderline painful feeling of emptiness.

But it'll be a cold day in hell before you let any tears fall. You have your own pride to manage, and besides, no one wants to mingle with the serviceman whose date's eyes burn a tear-stung red.

"How much longer?" you ask Ice once the commander leaves.

Ice gives you an assessing look, eyebrows pulled down, and his head lightly tilted. You can't tell if he feels bad about what he's putting you through or is confused by your shortness of tone. "Impatient?"

You scoff, barely repressing the urge to cross your arms. Instead, you take a sip of your Brut, nose wrinkling as it bursts bitter across your tongue. "Whatever," you huff, done with the conversation and resigning yourself to more of the same. Ice had said there were "a couple" officers he wanted to talk with, after all.

Ice draws a deep breath in through his nose; lips pursed as he looks up to the ceiling. You know he's looking for the right words. You're still determining what those words would be. You know for a fact he won't find them painted on the ceiling.

Lucky for you—because you're not done being upset with him yet—Ice can't pinpoint what he's looking for before you're interrupted.

"Woah!" a familiar blonde excuses, bumbling into Ice and nearly spilling his beer on matching whites. "Sorry about that, still got my sea le– oh! Ice, hey!" Excuse dropped as a beamish grin overtakes Wolfman's face, cheeks tinged pink with drink.

"Wolf," you giggle as Wolf pulls you into a better mood with a friendly hug. It's hard to be all doom and gloom when Wolf's involved; he's a veritable ray of sunshine. "Where's 'Wood?"

"Pfft," he snorts. "Where's anyone? I mean, 'Wood's somewhere with his girl, but one minute I'm with Sli and Chip, the next Sli's gone and Chip's found himself a pretty little thing to dance with." He shrugs, not looking too plussed about his situation.

"I'll dance with you, Wolfie," you jump to offer. "Ice is being boring anyway."

Ice frowns. Wolf laughs. "Who am I to say no to a lady?" he asks, pulling you into an off-kilter twirl. "Don't worry, Ice, she's in good hands!" he calls over his shoulder as you practically drag him toward the dancefloor.

What Wolfman lacks in prowess, he makes up for in enthusiasm. By the time Hollywood and his fiancée find the two of you on the dancefloor—not a surprise since 'Wood and Wolf are practically connected at the hip—you're a little breathless from trying to keep up.

It's a good time, but you can only be so distracted, and it's only a matter of time before you begin scanning the crowd. Either you'll find Slider, or he'll find you, but you'll be damned if he doesn't finish what he started.

You know Ice has people he wants to impress and a ladder he's trying to climb, but shouldn't you be at the top of his list? With this thought at the helm, it isn't long before you spot a head of brown curls that towers above the rest. You rock onto your tiptoes to feed Wolf a lie—bathroom—and push through the crowd alone.

Except as you get closer, it becomes glaringly apparent that this tall brunet is not Slider.

You scowl at no one in particular when you come up empty-handed.

As you decide to keep searching until you find Slider—and, ultimately, relief—someone grabs you from behind.

You whirl around, ready to smack the person's hands off of you.

It's Pete.

You smack him anyway.

"Ow!" Pete yelps, more from surprise than pain. You didn't hit him that hard. "What the hell?!"

"Pete Mitchell, who do you think you are grabbing a lady–"

"You're hardly a lady."

"–from behind like that. You almost gave me a heart attack!"

Pete disarms you with a light pinch to your side that has you clamping your arms against your sides to protect against further tickling. "Where're Tweedledee and Tweedledum? Didn't think I'd catch you without one or the other."

You suppress a roll of your eyes. "Who knows."

"Sooo," Pete drawls a bit awkwardly, "does this have anything to do with the weirdness going on between the three of you?"

"Oh my god. You know," you groan, unable to stop yourself from hiding your face in your hands. How embarrassing.

"I don't know-know," Pete's quick to correct, "and I don't want to. But I know something's up."

This isn't something you're delving into with your brother. "It's nothing. Forget it."

"Doesn't seem like nothing if you're avoiding them."

"Like you're avoiding Penny's dad?" you snark back. Deflecting. "I'm surprised you decided to stick around."

"He's old. It's probably past his bedtime," Pete says confidently, a smile tugging at his lips. "The night's mine."

"Whatever will you do with this newfound freedom?" you tease.

Pete gives a half-shrug, surveying the room. "I'm sure some poor officer brought his daughter so she could meet the love of her life."

You don't bother holding in a mocking laugh. "And that's you?"

"No." Pete makes a face. "But I can be her something for the night."

"Ew," you grunt because you so do not want to get into that with your brother. "I need a drink."

A hand catches your elbow as you turn. "Going somewhere?"

You refuse to look as you shake Ice's hand off and continue walking.

"So you're going to ignore me." It's a statement.

"Don't you have other people to talk to?"

Ice reaches for your elbow again, turning you so he can meet your eyes with his own. "I want to talk to you."

"That's my cue," Pete mumbles as he slinks into the crowd, presumably to find trouble.

Neither you nor Ice move, and your stomach roils as his jaw sets, his Adam's apple bobbing. "You're mad at me."

Part of you wants to tell him off. Instead, you shake your head. "I'm not mad. I'm frustrated."

"Okay," Ice says, with a curt nod, his shoulders—which had been bunched—rolling back as he becomes more sure of himself. "I can work with that."

Something about the way he says it rankles you, and you sneer. Earlier, you'd been all aboard hanging off Ice's arm, but now you're wound tight enough to burst, and all you want to do is take a hot bath. And now that he's made you this way, you're something that needs to be dealt with.

"Let's grab some fresh air," Ice says, loud enough to settle any eavesdroppers as he leads you toward the outdoor courtyard with a gentle but commanding grasp on your elbow.

But you pass by the turn for the courtyard.

"Where are you taking me?" The smell of cigar smoke thins as you walk along less-traveled hallways.

"I'm taking care of it," he says as if it's the most obvious thing in the world and continues to drag you after him.

Venturing further from the intended party spaces, the lights dim. You doubt the venue means for you to be down here.

Instead of voicing these thoughts, you scoff. "Helpful."

Making sure you're alone, Ice pulls you down a deserted hallway. "You're frustrated. I have people to talk to," he says slowly, sparing you a glance.

You frown. There goes Ice, talking about other people. Again.

He beelines for two unassuming doors, reaching out to the first, but its handle jiggles. Catches. Locked.

"I'm taking care of it."

Before you can challenge that assertion, Ice steps to the side and grabs the handle to the second door, marked STAFF ONLY.

It clicks.

Ice pushes you inside, following close behind.

The light coming through the foot of the door isn't enough to tell you where you are. But the clinical, electric-orange antiseptic smell of cleaning supplies invading your nose, singeing the hairs, is more than enough to give it away.

When you cross your arms over your chest, something falls to the ground with a wooden clack! "By dragging me into a janitor's closet?"

"Well, you said you'd be good for me, but that didn't last long."

You reach for where the handle must be, but Ice anticipates your moodiness and moves to intercept, deflecting your hand. "But the bet was that Slider couldn't get you off." His breath fans your face as he leans in, so you tilt your head away to avoid his lips. Stubborn. Undeterred, he kisses the long line of your neck, and the ghost of soft lips has you holding back a gasp. "So I'm taking care of it."

"What if it doesn't want to be taken care of?"

Sharp teeth are a shock beneath the hinge of your jaw. "Don't be a brat."

A strangled moan trips past your lips as he catches you off guard.

You don't have to see Ice to know he's smirking. "Noted." Then his hand is cupping your breast. "So, are you going to let me take care of you or not?"

You're not proud of how quickly you crumble, but it's like a switch flips. You hope Ice is okay with the whiplash because after an entire night of teasing, you're desperate for relief. "Please," you whimper, pushing yourself further into his orbit. You want so bad it hurts.

"Don't worry, sweetheart. I've got you." Ice captures your lips in a heated kiss—nipping at your bottom lip so you hiss and open up for him. He knows what you need, and he's (apparently) going to give it to you.

Your fingers, clumsy in their haste, scramble for Ice's belt, but he brushes them aside. "This is about you. I'll get mine later," he says, tilting your head to the side so he can track wet kisses up to the spot just below your ear, electricity sparking down your spine as teeth tug at the lobe. "When I lay you out on my bed."

A high-pitched, excited moan is your answer, interrupted by Ice's fingers over your lips. "You've gotta be quiet," he purrs, voice low in your ear. "Wouldn't want anyone to hear us."

"Then kiss me." He does. And as you breathe in deep, the whole situation makes you feel like you're back in high school: shelving digging into your lower back like you're sneaking around, trading uncoordinated kisses in the janitor's closet with David Hodges until your brother finds you and rips poor David away for an ass-beating. But infinitely better.

Ice's lips are familiar. Urgent and addictive against your own as he swallows your whimper—nothing like David.

Ice pinches your fat bottom lip between his teeth before releasing it with a slick smack. You suck in a sharp breath, lashes fluttering open to look up at the shadow of him in the dark. "So pretty," he growls, fabric rustling as he hastily cuffs the sleeve of his jacket and pushes it up to his elbow to keep it safe from what he has planned.

Handfuls of velvet are bunched around your waist so you can spread your legs more freely, and Ice can slot his hand between them.

Threading your fingers through his hair, you return his lips to yours. You both groan from the kiss—you from the relief of his hands on you, the promise of a sweet release; him from how wet and needy you are (Slider's work, really, but Ice seems keen to reap the benefits).

When you break apart to gasp for air, Ice husks, "I'd get my mouth on you." And it conjures the image of Slider's wicked brown eyes looking up at you from between your legs, your cunt throbs. God, you want that. "Too bad I can't smell like pussy while I'm talking to the brass." But he allows himself the indulgence of a single taste, bringing fingers slick with your arousal to his lips.

You shake your head, unsure if his eyes have adjusted enough to see you. "Unprofessional," you agree, dizzy as his fingers plunge back into your heat. The heel of his palm grinds deliciously against your clit, his fingers working with the frantic cant of your hips as you chase a high that's walking the line of pain in its evasion of you. A steady, unignorable ache.

Ice drags his nails over the dense fabric covering your tits, your nipples pebbling at the faux cool sensation. "Tell me what you need," he whispers against your lips.

Relief is so close the air is thick with it. It tastes like Lysol. You stutter out a breath, and it morphs into a quiet whine. "Just like that," you mewl. "Keep touching me like that."

"Yeah?" Ice teases, a third finger sneaking into you and zeroing in on your sweet spot, thumb coming up to rub circles into your clit. What little light there is in the closet glints off the sharp point of his teeth as his lips part. "You're going to cum on my fingers," he declares, and your heart skips a beat when it jumps into your throat. "Then, you're going to go back to being my good, pretty girlfriend while I talk business," he presses a teasing kiss to the corner of your lips, and you can't contain a needy, lilting whine, "and no one will know you needed to cum on my fingers just to make it through the night."

"Oh god," you sob, nails digging into the starched fabric of Ice's jacket. You're right there. Liquid flames lick at your core, your tummy tied in knots and thighs jumpy as Ice speeds up his fingers, a muffled squelch each time his fingers bottom out, knuckles pressed tight to your cunt.

The two of you are so distracted that you don't hear the frantic footsteps until they're almost on top of you.

Ice jerks his fingers from you, yanking your dress back into place at the same time as he steps between you and the door to the closet, blocking you from whoever's about to fling the door open.

But it doesn't stop your eyes from meeting your brother's over his shoulder.

Pete slams the door shut.

Silence. Then: "You still dressed?"

Posture going rigid, Ice shoots the door a barbed look. "Maverick–" Pete shushes him through the door. He must be pressed up against the wood. Ice gives in but doesn't give up, continuing with a more hushed, "–what the hell?"

A pause. "That's not a no," your brother mulls. "Scoot over. I'm coming in."

"No!" You and Ice hiss simultaneously, but Pete is already squeezing himself into the closet with the two of you, pressed tight against Ice's back as he shuts the door firmly but with as much care as he gives his Kawasaki.

"Look," Pete whispers, and maybe his hands would be up in a placating manner if there were enough room, "I either hide in here with you two or hack it out there with Admiral Benjamin."

Without the distraction of each other, you and Ice hear far more measured footsteps hesitate at the far end of the hall before heading in your direction.

"I like your chances," Ice bites. "Leave."

Pete jostles all three of you as he turns to get into Ice's face as much as he can, given the confines of the closet. A shelf creaks, but nothing falls. "Well, it won't look good on you either," he whispers furiously. "Huh? Ice-cold, no mistakes, making out with your date in a closet like you're at junior pr–" Ice slaps a hand over his mouth, and the three of you fall deathly still.

The tension thickens until the footsteps pass you by.

No one dares to let out a quiet, adrenaline-shaken breath, even when the footsteps sound like they must have reached the other end of the hallway. Pete does, however, allow his shoulders to sag in relief.

Then, the footsteps pause.

They grow closer—louder—once more. This time, the muffled chaf of dress shoes on the carpet sounds like it's purposefully approaching the closet. Each step ratchets the tension up exponentially. You hold still, certain that if you shift your weight, something on the open shelving will give away your location. Ice, still shielding you from the door, brings a hand up to pet the back of your neck; the cool metal of his Academy ring—grounding any other time—sends a nervous trickle down your spine.

Benjamin is obviously after Pete, but how bad will it look that the two of you are in the closet with him?

There's a mechanical squeal of metal catching, handle turning, getting stuck. Jiggle. A grunt as he encounters the locking mechanism of the next door over.

Two shadows block the ambient light at the bottom of the door.

Well, you pinch your eyes closed. This will be embarrassing.

"Admiral Benjamin," someone calls from further away.

"Ah," the response comes uncomfortably close to your door. "Lieutenant…?"

"Kerner, sir." Slider. "I was with Lieutenant Kazansky earlier. Did you ever find Mitchell?

Two quick raps on the door. Pete flinches. "I believe I have." And Admiral Benjamin sounds smug.

The statement hangs in the air.

"In a closet, sir?" You can see the skeptical raise of Slider's brow in your mind's eye.

The shadow shifts. "I'm sure he came this way."

"Well, I just saw his RIO headed toward the taxis." A pause. "He's a slippery little shit. If he was here, he's long gone by now."

"Hm." Admiral Benjamin doesn't move, but from the sound of things, neither does Slider. "Well, Lieutenant. Really good stuff on the Enterprise."

Slider thanks him as the shadows disappear from the doorway and footsteps hurry off on a Goose chase.

When you're sure the admiral has left the vicinity—thankfully not asking Slider why he decided to stick around—Pete stumbles out of the closet with all the grace of a baby giraffe but none of the height. "Aw, Kerner," he teases with a dopey grin, "you do like me."

Slider snorts. "Don't thank me yet. The Geese are waiting for a taxi."

Pete's chin falls to his chest, and he mumbles a "goddammit" before hurrying to see if he can avoid Admiral Benjamin by sneaking through the courtyard.

"They're not the only ones," Slider tells Ice, nodding in the general direction of what remains of the Ball's attendees. "If you want to talk to anyone else, now's the time."

But as you practically tremble between them, Ice looks at you—really looks at you—and his features soften. He cups your shoulder, offering but not pulling you into his side. "I think I've networked enough for one night," he declares, tone light. His thumb rubbing back and forth, soothing.

Then those gray-blue eyes are on you, and his lips stretch into a slow, soft smile. "No one I can't talk with some other time."

"You sure?" Slider asks. Then, hushed, "I can take care of her while you finish up."

There is quite literally nothing you want less. The venue is clearly cursed, and you don't plan on sticking around long enough to find out what other ways you can get caught or edged tonight.

"The bet's off," Ice states before you can say 'no,' and your heart flutters. If Ice wasn't going to stick around for one last round of shoulder-rubbing, then winning was only a matter of getting you in a taxi.

For his part, Slider doesn't seem as shocked as you are by Ice's declaration.

Ice feathers a kiss to your temple before you can second-guess his decision. It's the most relaxed you've seen him all evening. "Let's get you a taxi."

"Wait." Slider pushes off the wall. He procures a key from his pocket and presses it into Ice's hand. "Holiday Inn. K Street. Leave in 10 minutes."

Ice fiddles with the thick plastic of the keychain but pays it no real mind.

"Don't give me that look," Slider boos.

Ice licks his lips. "You know our rooms were comped, right?" It's a perk of being summoned to the event, you're sure.

Slider takes a half step forward, the three of you the closest you've been all night. From this distance, Ice has to look up ever so slightly to meet Slider's cocky gaze. "You want to what?" he asks, voice going deep and quiet enough no one else could hear if they happened by you. "Pile into a single room at the same hotel everyone else is staying at?" He motions between the three of you. "How's that going to work?"

Some like to write Slider off as all muscle, no brain. But it's his job to see things others don't—things Ice doesn't. He knew they couldn't take you back to their fancy hotel rooms even before he came to the event tonight. The safest solution had been to shell out for a lesser room somewhere you were less likely to turn heads.

"She isn't exactly known for being quiet," Sli stresses.

Ice ponders the key for long seconds before he pockets it with a nod.

Slider smirks. "That's what I thought."

#thirsty's fics #fic: stuck in the. middle #fic: stuck at the navy ball #chapter 3: behind the door #tom iceman kazansky x reader #tom iceman kazansky x f!reader #ron slider kerner x reader #ron slider kerner x f!reader #female reader #tom iceman kazansky x reader x ron slider kerner #top gun smut #tom iceman kazansky smut #ron slider kerner smut #the '86 flyboys #because is fucking your rival-turned-friend's sister even fun if you don't have to be over-the-top sneaky about it?

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nevillesbestie · 2 months

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Neville Longbottom x Reader Chapter 1!

Welcome everyone to the beginning of a journey! I'm nervous about this, I've barely ever written before and when I did it was for my school's newspaper! Please bear with me as we embark on this journey together! Hopefully I get better at this as I go but we never know!

Warnings: Slight angst, yearning, one-sided love, (at first), Valentines day right around the corner

A/N - If you want to be on my taglist then I'll link my google form to get added! Have fun reading everyone!

A/N 2 - This was done in like a week, the reader is female with female parts, she/her pronouns for reader, reader can have long or short hair, reader has her hair in a towel because they make small towels for you to put your hair in

A/N 3 - I don’t know if you read Harry Potter stuff but @h-harleybaby what do you think of this????

It was your last year at hogwarts. You were nervous about moving on after school, you didn't know what you wanted to do. Well technically you knew what you wanted to do but you weren't ready for it. You had nice grades, you had a couple A's and B's and a few C's as well, you were a good student just had a bit of an attitude problem.

You had a couple friends, it was a weird little group but they were your found family. Ginny was your best friend, having sat next to her in the great hall after you all got sorted. Luna had made friends with you a couple weeks after you got put together during Charms class, and you had met Hermione in the library after you had got there to study with Ginny.

You had a couple other friends as well, Seamus and Dean being your go-to to sit next to during Astronomy, which was surprisingly the only class where they didn't act like hooligans.

The day was going well, except for the fact it was Valentine's Day and you sadly didn't have anyone to go to the Valentine's ball with. Ginny was going with Harry, Hermione was going with Ron, and Luna was going with some ravenclaw dude. Of course you were going to the dance with all of them you just didn't have your own date.

"Well I think you should ask him, he'll probably say yes anyway" Ginny says as we walk out of a random Hogsmeade shop. Luna joins in "He's very shy and sensitive so when you ask him just be gentle" causing you to groan. "I don't know guys, I don't even think he likes me"

Hermione scoffs "Are you daft? He basically fawns over you all of the time, you just don't notice" causing Ginny to chuckle. "I don't know, maybe I will, I just don't want to get hurt and rejected because of it you know?"

Ginny sighs and shakes her head while smiling "Y/N you're one of the prettiest girls here ok? He won't reject you, now if you'll excuse me I have to go meet up with Harry for a bit" Hermione and Luna nod and say the same thing as all three of them walk away smiling.

You sigh and walk back to Hogwarts to get ready to try on the dress your mom sent you for the ball. You get back to your dorm room and take out your dream dress, you smile and try it on, the way it looks on you is perfect. You think and wonder if he likes you like Hermione said he does. You sigh and take off the dress before taking a shower and putting on your pajamas, you sit down with your hair in a towel as you grab a book and start reading where you left off last night.

---------<3

It's a couple hours later when the girls come into your dorm room with all of their dresses, makeup, and hair supplies. You smile as they set up chaotically, "Well I didn't realize you could be such a mess Hermione" Ginny laughs while Luna giggles softly. You get up and pull out your dress before starting to get ready with the girls.

You four figure out whether you want to straighten or curl your hair, whether you want to wear makeup or not, and what shoes to wear with them. While you guys are laughing and talking you hear a knock on the door before a letter slides under it with your name on it.

You go and pick it up before reading what it says. You slowly open the letter before starting to read it quietly. You blush and smile as you slowly read it.

'Hello Y/N,

I'm writing you this letter because Seamus and Dean have convinced me to do it, I wanted to ask you to go to the Valentine's Day ball with me in person but I was nervous, I don't know if it's too late to ask you now but if you would like to go to the Ball with me, meet me at the bottom of the stairs in front of the great hall.

-N.L'

Ginny looks over and smirks before snatching the letter out of your hand and starting to read it out loud causing Hermione and Luna to squeal and laugh. "Ginny stop it!" you blush and try to grab the letter back but she holds it over her head. "You have to meet him at the stairs! It'll be so cute!" Hermione adds in.

You smile and blush, "Alright, help me get ready girls, I want to look nice for this" Luna grabs your hand before sitting you down on the chair in front of Ginny's vanity as you and Ginny share a dorm. The girls help you with your hair and makeup and help you pick out what shoes you wanna wear.

It's about an hour later and you four leave the dorm and walk out and meet up with Harry and Ron before leaving and meeting up with Luna's date. They quickly shuffle into the great hall but the girls stop them as they turn and see Neville Longbottom waiting at the bottom of the stairs. You stayed back to take a few deep breaths and calm down, Seamus and Dean stopped to see how you were doing before smiling and leaving, you leave shortly afterwards and make your way towards the stairs.

You take a deep breath and whisper to yourself, "It's ok Y/N, what could go wrong right?" You slowly turn the corner and look down to see Neville waiting for you, he looks up and smiles as he processes that it's you. You blush before slowly walking down the stairs and meeting him at the bottom.

"Hi" You slowly say as you hear Luna and Ginny quietly squealing causing you to blush out of embarrassment. He smiles, "Hi, I'm sorry I didn't ask you out in person, I was really nervous and I didn't know if you would say yes or not" You giggle softly and smile "I was really nervous too, I wanted to ask you as well but I backed out at the last second"

He puts his hand out, "Well?" You grab his hand while still smiling and he leads you both to the front of the great hall where the girls and their dates, you all walk in together and find a table.

It’s hard not to have fun during the best Ball of the year…right?

#Neville Longbottom x Reader #There will be fluff #smut #and angst #AHHHH SCREAMING RNNNNN

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starstruckwillows · 1 year

Text

♡ a child child - r.w ♡

requested by anon<3

ron weasley x reader, fluff, childcare

babysitting with your boyfriend

snow was pummeling the outside of the burrow, fred and george weasley tearing past you, both trying to get to a hot shower before the other.

hermione looked at you from the other side of the sofa with raised eyebrows, "were they outside?"

you tracked their dripping footprints with your eyes, "looks like. where are the others?"

you sincerely hoped your boyfriend was not outside, because he'd undoubtedly want a warm hug from you upon return if that was the case. and you'd become quite comfortable by the fireplace.

luckily, ron was only in the kitchen with his mum, and he re-entered the living room looking slightly alarmed.

he sat down next to you with a shell shocked expression, hands folded in his lap. hermione shrugged, getting up from the sofa and mumbling she was going to find ginny.

"everything okay?" you asked with more than a little caution in your tone.

"mhm."

you cleared your throat, "erm, ron?"

that seemed to snap him out of a trance, turning his gaze to you as if he'd just realised you were beside him.

warm light from the fireplace cast a glow across his freckles, his hair curling at the ends, made even more red by the flames. the shock shown in his scrunched brow faded as he trailed his eyes over you.

maybe you'd been staring too long.

"what's going on?" you played it off, but the faint smile on his face told you that you weren't subtle.

"mum wants me to a babysit tonight."

you cocked your head, "is ginny not a bit old for that?"

"not ginny. clover, my cousin. but..."

his voice tapered off at the end, so you queried "clover? i haven't met a clover?"

ron was pale by nature, but that seemed to be more evident than ever as he whispered in fear, "that's because she's a child. like, a child child."

your gasp was theatrical, loaded with sarcasm, "a child child?"

"yes." he seemed to distraught to pick up on your tone.

shifting over to him, so you could hold his hands in yours and meet his wide eyes, you spoke slowly, "do you want me to come with you?"

he nodded frantically.

that night, the two of you apparated onto the doorstep of another branch of the weasley family tree. ron looked like he was going to break down any second. you rolled your eyes playfully and rung the door bell.

a raven-haired woman answered, holding a toddler, with classic wisps of ginger locks, on her hip. she was dressed up nicely, with her hair twisted into an updo, and her husband rifling through a bag in the kitchen.

as she took you through the procedure and clover's schedule, she handed the little girl to ron.

"what if i drop her?" he hissed.

under the guise of kissing his cheek, you whispered your reply, "you're fine."

the next hour consisted of ron freaking over every little detail, but following that, he seemed to calm down fast.

the two weasleys were cross legged on the rug, pouring over alphabet books and all things with bright colours. a tender smile was caught on your face as your boyfriend tied her hair into two little braids upon eager request.

"what?" he asked, suddenly self conscious of your stare.

you shook your head softly, same smile still ready, "nothing, my love."

tag list:

@anordinarymuse @ell0ra-br3kk3r @kingshitonly

#starstruckwillows #golden trio era #ron weasley #ron weasley x reader #fluff #ron weasley fluff #ron weasley x reader fluff

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maelwives · 7 months

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🖤1979🖤

#sparks #sparks band #ron mael #russell mael #1979 #ron curls :3 #WEREWOLVES

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seekers-who-are-lovers · 1 year

Text

10 reasons (and then some) you should read Akira Amano’s Deranged Detective (especially if you love or used to love Sherlock BBC, but basically love Doyle’s SH, not spoiler-free)

1) if you have a penchant for the height difference trope between the protagonist and the deuteragonist; with the lanky one as the private detective and the smaller a keeper of his adventures. Ron Kamonohashi sports black hair that hides the eyes. Reminiscent of Cumberbatch’s iconic SH dark curls. Police detective Totomaru “Toto” Isshiki is a blonde-/light brown-haired guy that gives off MF’s John Watson vibe.

The two met during the depressing phases of their lives. Ron lost his detective license shut out to the world for years with part memory loss and a flaw. Toto experienced a major slump at work, tied to do office tasks instead of investigating like a proper detective. Okay, Toto wasn’t a military doctor here.

2) Fine. There has never been a Turkish bath scene on Sherlock BBC, but on Doyle’s original writings SH and JW have fondness for Turkish baths and have visited there together several times. Ron and Toto went to an onsen already with them wearing yukata in their early days of acquaintance (Chapter 3).

3) Ron is a descendant of Sherlock Holmes by referencing a famous passage from “A Study in Scarlet.” And then Akira Amano confirming it in the succeeding chapters. Ms Amano took that premise when Sherlock Holmes was framed for a crime that he didn’t commit. She ran away with this idea that has become the focal point of her plot. This feels like an alternate universe.

But there’s a catch. There lies a difference among the three works. His scar that looks like “96” has a meaning. (If you scour the tags, you’ll find more super spoilers!)

4) Ron used to have a passion for the architect Le Corbusier that only a few people close to him know about. He told a “friend” that if he left England, “he’d build a vacation home in a country with one of Le Corbusier’s buildings.” An obvious nod to Sherlock BBC’s SH’s ubiquitous Le Corbusier black leather armchair.

5) Ron’s classmates at the prestigious Blue Academy in the UK nicknamed him“the freak” with negative connotation.

6) Ron might not be taking a recreational drug, but him consuming brown sugar is his addiction.

7) Toto supporting and protecting Ron has become his ethos. But there’s a major if. Some readers deduce that there’s something more than meets the eye. Is Toto a friend or a foe? Once again, an homage to season one’s “The Great Game” where SH initially thought JW was James Moriarty.

8) Ron’s eyes light up and makes a grin whenever he reaches an epiphany, as in he’s solved the mystery.

9) Moriarty. Of course. But who are they? And how many?

10) Toto’s “jealousy” every time Ron’s attention is not on him. (Elmer Stingray is the Victor Trevor.) Likewise the glances Ron gives Toto whenever the latter does or says something that pleases or amazes him. They have become each other’s world, won’t exist when they aren’t together.

And so many other things. Choice of phrases, words. (“The curtain rises… “Because you are an idiot.” ) The gestures. They give me a nostalgic kick because they remind me of Sherlock BBC. Naturally, these are the reasons that draw me to the manga.

Ps: there’s no Toby neither Gladstone here, but a cat that slumbers like dead.

(In case you’d love to know more, @clouds-of-peach )

#akira amano #giving me a nostalgic kick #deranged detective #deranged detective: ron kamonohashi #ron kamonohashi #totomaru isshiki #ron et toto #ddrk spoilers #sherlock bbc #sir arthur conan doyle #sherlock holmes #john watson #ten reasons #ron kamonohashi deranged detective #kamonohashi ron no kindan suiri #why you should read rkdd

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be11atrixthestrange · 7 days

Text

Guilty as Sin?

Thank you for this song, Taylor <3.

Read on ao3

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

I dream of cracking locks

Throwing my life to the wolves or the ocean rocks

Crashing into him tonight, he's a paradox

I'm seeing visions, am I bad?

Or mad? Or wise?

The energy that permeated The Three Broomsticks on a Saturday night was one of students that had been cooped up all week. Hermione could barely hear Ginny’s voice through the noise, and even if she could, she probably would have struggled to pay attention. Of course, she was thankful for the invitation even though Hogsmeade weekends weren’t really her thing these days.

Ginny liked to talk about Quidditch and boys. Hermione loved Ginny, but conversations about Quidditch and boys grew tedious after some time. Not that Hermione never thought about Quidditch or boys — in fact, she spent most of her time trying not to.

Hermione stared at the glass in front of her, the honey-like hue of its contents matched the dim light of the bar. She didn’t even like butterbeer that much, but it was something to do with her hands. She reached for the glass, and her fingers made an imprint in the condensation, sending shivers down her spine. Then, she brought it to her lips and took a swig.

The smooth buttery flavor made her mouth water in a way the butterbeer itself couldn’t satisfy.

Unsatisfying. Maybe that’s why she didn’t like butterbeer. It wasn’t quite enough.

Hermione placed her drink back down on the table and turned back to Ginny, only to find she had stopped talking.

“What?”

“Nothing,” said Ginny.

Hermione frowned — it was no secret that she hadn’t been a perfect friend lately. Distracted was an understatement. Ever since Ron and Lavender had gotten together, nothing could cheer her up. Ginny was usually pretty understanding, but maybe her patience was finally running thin. “Sorry, my mind was just wandering.”

“Oh,” said Ginny. “No, I was just looking behind you.”

“Behind me?”

“Yeah.”

Hermione nodded. She didn’t need to look to know what Ginny was referring to. And yet, as if someone else was controlling her body, she swiveled in her chair to confirm.

His bright red hair was unmistakable. It always was. That was usually one of the things Hermione loved about him, but not recently. She couldn’t not see him even if she didn’t want to.

He sat at a table for two near the bar’s entrance, with Lavender across from him. She had clearly styled her hair — her curls looked fresh and sleek, unlike Hermione’s wild and untamed mane. Her face glowed underneath perfect makeup, and her feminine clothing revealed just enough to catch the eyes of men sitting at surrounding tables. But Ron’s eyes seemed glued to the butterbeer in front of him, not Lavender.

Maybe Hermione’s optimistic side was just imagining that.

“Sorry,” said Ginny. “I wouldn’t have suggested The Three Broomsticks if I knew they’d be here.”

“I know,” said Hermione. “It’s okay.”

She couldn’t avoid him forever. Not in person, and definitely not in her mind.

I keep recalling things we never did

Messy top lip kiss, how I long for our trysts

Someone told me there's no such thing as bad thoughts

Only your actions talk

That boy had been living in Hermione mind for as long as she could remember, and especially since Lavender laid her paws on him. In fact, that had only made it worse.

It started in their fourth year, when Hermione wondered what would have happened if Ron had asked her to the ball, and not in a last-resort kind of way. As she danced with Victor and felt his hands grace her lower back, she imagined they were Ron’s. She hadn’t meant to, it just happened. She kept her eyes transfixed on Victor’s face, hoping that could erase Ron’s image from her mind, but later that night, when Krum led her out to the gardens, it was too dark to make out the color of his hair. So when he tilted her head back and pressed his lips to hers, it might as well have been Ron. And of course, she closed her eyes, and let her stomach erupt with butterflies — just like it had every time Ron’s gaze had ever lingered on her for a moment too long.

The daydreams intensified in their fifth year. Prefect rounds became a test of her sanity, especially when she was paired with him. Exploring empty classrooms and wandering the dark corridors at night paved the way for fantasies. Every time they opened a door to find a broom closet, she imagined him pulling her in there, pushing her against the wall, his lips on hers, his hands roaming her waist and toying with the hem of her shirt. She wondered what it would feel like to be entangled with him, the heat of his body and breath a delicious contrast to the cold stone wall against her back.

What if he's written "mine" on my upper thigh only in my mind?

One slip and falling back into the hedge maze

Oh, what a way to die

The heat of the following summer was a blessing in disguise. As the sun beat down on the Burrow grounds, Hermione had the perfect excuse to wear her shortest shorts and sleeveless tops. She relished in Ron’s gaze on her thighs as they sat out in the grass. She noticed how his eyes grew wide when she stripped down to her bathing suit for a swim in the pond. He spent the entire summer with a glowing sunburn, but Hermione had a feeling that his face would have been crimson red either way.

She spent those summer nights in the camp bed in Ginny’s room, wondering if she’d made a mark on Ron’s mind. She laid awake remembering how his hands trembled when he hugged her, the way he stood closer than usual, and the feeling of his arms as they wrapped around her bare waist when he pulled her off the dock and into the water with him.

Then that split second underwater when their bodies made contact, and his arm stayed locked around her. It took everything she had to resist wrapping her legs around him, and sometimes she wished she hadn’t even tried.

Would he have responded positively? He might have slid his hands up her legs and pulled her tightly against him, before crashing his lips into hers when they resurfaced. She blushed thinking of the way his hips would have felt pressed against her, their mutual desire clear as day.

During those nights at the Burrow, as Hermione’s hand wandered to the drawstring of her pajama bottoms, she couldn’t help but wonder if he was also lying in bed upstairs, wide awake, replaying the summer’s events in his mind. Maybe, like Hermione, the fact that he wasn’t alone in the room was the only reason his hand behaved, unmoving, leaving him to wonder what it would feel like to have her in bed with him.

It was entirely possible.

These fatal fantasies giving way to labored breath

Taking all of me, we've already done it in my head

If it's make-believe

Why does it feel like a vow we'll both uphold somehow?

It wasn’t until she was alone in her dorm one night that she let her mind wander even further. She’d had enough of the lingering glances and the pure torture of wandering the halls with him, resisting the temptation to touch him. Hermione could have exploded when Lavender waltzed into his life. How could she contain the years of built-up fantasies, now that everything she wished would happen could only play out in her head?

So she let it play out. When her roommates were out one night, and the lights were dark, she drew her four-poster curtains shut and cast a silencing charm. She imagined him lying there, under the covers, sidled up next to her with his clothes nowhere to be found. When her hand slipped into her own knickers, it could just as easily have been his. Why should she have to wonder how his fingers would caress her, how his tongue would pave a trail between her legs, or what it might feel like with him fully inside her? She deserved to know.

And once she knew, a dam had been broken. It happened in the shower, in broom closets they’d discovered on prefect rounds, and in empty classrooms when persistent thoughts of Ron wouldn’t leave her alone during a study session.

The Ron that lived in her mind — the one that was hers, not Lavender’s — did well with practice. It didn’t take long for him to learn her body, how to make her breath hitch and her eyes roll back in her head. The Ron of her fantasies knew how to elicit a gasp and a moan. He took pride in making her scream his name.

Somehow, she knew the real Ron probably would too.

My bedsheets are ablaze, I've screamed his name

Building up like waves crashing over my grave

Without ever touching his skin

How can I be guilty as sin?

Hermione took another sip of her butterbeer, which effectively brought her back to reality, even if only for the moment. Her mouth watered, and whether that was from the taste of butterbeer or something else, Hermione didn’t know.

Ginny was still talking, having not noticed Hermione’s eyes glazing over as her mind transported her somewhere else.

She risked a glance toward Ron’s table to see that he was still there, and his red hair sent a jolt of electricity through her body. How did he have that effect on her even after breaking her heart? It wasn’t fair. Hermione gulped down the remainder of her unsatisfying butterbeer, and the tingle in her spine strengthened.

There was really only one way to quell the heat that seeing him ignited, and even then, it wasn’t never quite enough. It had already happened in her dorm, the shower, a broom closet and an empty classroom… Why not add a bar bathroom to the list?

“I’ll be right back,” she announced to Ginny as she stood. “Bathroom.”

Ginny nodded and Hermione turned toward the back of the bar, shouldering her way through the crowd. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Ron looking in her direction, but she didn’t dare risk eye contact to confirm it. He was on a date, and she didn’t want Lavender’s wrath.

Maybe he still harbored the same thoughts she did. There was something between them before Lavender got in the way, she knew it. Those glances, extended hugs, intense eye contact… did he get butterflies the way she did? Did he think of her at night? And if he did, would seeing her across the bar remind him of what could have been?

Hermione pressed the door to the loo open and slipped through, her heart pounding at the possibility.

A girl could hope.

#romione #ron and hermione #ron x hermione #hermione granger #hpromione #ronweasley #romione fanfic #hp fanfic #ron weasley #ttpd #guilty as sin?

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redheadspark · 9 months

Note

OOOOO for pretty words prompts.

elixir - write a scene where your character creates a magical potion. You pick the character! 😁

A/N - YAY STELLA!! Thanks for requesting this, and it'll feature our favorite quidditch player

Poppy

Summary - You would do anything to bring a smile to your daughter's face, much to the amusement of your husband Oliver Wood

Warnings - Nothing but Cute fluff!

"Should I be worried about what you brought home for our daughter, dear?"

"Never, Oli! I know she'll love it, even if you don't."

Oliver had to chuckle as he was placing his playbook on the coffee table in front of him while the soft pattering of feet was heard coming your way in the living room. You were barely shrugging off your jacket and beanie when your 3-year-old daughter was now rushing into the room, seeing you and beaming as her curls were bouncing around her face, "Momma! I missed you, momma!"

"I missed you too, Pops," You replied, picking her up to hug her as she was snuggled into your hold, "Were you good for your Da?"

"Uh-huh! We played Princesses and shared a Chocolate Frog!" Poppy informed you as Oliver leaned over to kiss your cheek.

"Compliments of Fred and Ron, they gave me extra when I went to visit them at the shop last night," Oliver explained, "And, we also got invited to see Luna's farm tomorrow and meet her new bunnies,"

"Can we have one, momma? Can we, please?" Poppy asked, her face etched in excitement as you tried not to snort in laughter.

"Your Da and I can talk about it. Now, I have something to show you. You wanna see?" You asked her, seeing her nod her head rapidly as you placed her back on the ground, "Go wait for me in the kitchen at the table then, okay?"

She hummed and ran off, Oliver walking over with a raised brow as you fished out the ingredients that you brought with you in your messenger bag.

"Seriously, what did you bring Poppy?" Oliver asked you again as you smiled.

"Something I learned back from our school days, and I think our little girl will love and appreciate it," You explained taking the ingredients in hand and making your way to the kitchen. Oliver followed you, intrigued himself by what you had up your sleeve as your daughter was waiting at the table, kicking her feet in excitement.

You laid out an empty vial, two small vials with some powder inside, a root that was rolled in parchment, and a small poppy flower.

"Your mum and Da made this potion when we were in school," You explained to your daughter.

"You mean Hogwarts?" Poppy asked.

"Precisely! This was one of my favorite potions to make, and I wanna show you how to make it." You explained, "You see those two powders? I want you to pour each powder into this big vial, nice and slow, okay?"

"Kay," She replied, sitting on her knees and taking each powder vial to pour in carefully. Although she spilled some of it on the floor, you cleaned it up with a flick of your wrist of your wand and finally, you summoned a few dollops of water from the tip fo your wand to be in the main vial that was in front of Poppy. She looked to you now, now knowing what to do next as you pointed to the red flower.

"Now here's the fun part!" You explained, taking the vial with the mixed powder in hand, "Pour this over the flower,"

You could tell she was a bit hesitant in doing so, looking at the bright red flower and then at the powder right in front of her hand. Even biting her lower lip, she didn't move just yet.

"It's going to be great, I promise you," You reassured your daughter, "Go on,"

She finally took the vial, hovering it over the bright red Poppy that was perched on the surface of the table. She finally poured it over the flower, seeing the red petals disappear under the powder as you pointed your wand at the small hill of ingredients. Your daughter's eyes were rather large, watching with bated breath as you whispered the spell under your breath.

The powder swirled around the flower and blended into a liquid, then it went into the middle of the flower and made the poppy flower glow a tint of red, new petals grew out and the flower itself enlarged. Now it was floating and rotating in a small circle in front of Poppy, hearing her giggle and laugh as she reached out to touch the new flower and its delicate petals.

"Now it will never die. It's enchanted, just like you," You hummed, kissing the top of her head as she wrapped her arms around you and hugged you, "It's my favorite flower, and I named you Poppy because of how beautiful it is,"

"I love it, momma!" She said against your chest. You grinned and kissed her curls, looking over at Oliver and seeing him smile with a wink.

Poppy would keep that flower for the rest of her life, then she would give it to your grandaughter who was named after you.

The End.

#oliver wood x female reader #oliver wood prompts #oliver wood fanfiction #oliver wood x reader #oliver wood x you #oliver wood x y/n #harry potter writing #harry potter fanfiction #hp fic #hp fanfic #hp #harry potter fandom

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cassiaratheslytherpuff · 2 months

Text

Patterns Tag

Thank you for tagging me @strugglequill, this looks like it'll be fun!

Rules: List the first line of your last 10 (posted) fics and see if there's a pattern!

1. A Violent Kind of Spin (Jegulus, E, 212k)

Fighting in a war shouldn’t be the relief that it is, but James can’t help but revel in the reality of it.

2. Always Be This Close (Prongsfoot, E, 11k)

Sirius half stumbles half walks through the door.

3. Strings Attached (Rarry, E, 26k)

Harry groaned and rubbed his eyes underneath his glasses.

4. This Could Be Good (Drarry, E, 6k)

Draco stretches and winces a little at the sound his back makes in response.

5. What I Want (This Year) (Drarry, E, 36k)

Harry sighs as he enters the hospital to the sight of mistletoe and red banners covering the corridors and the same two-minute-long Christmas jingle playing on repeat.

6. Like a Dream I Can Reach (but not quite hold) (Queerplatonic Drarry, M, 19k)

“Are you coming out tonight, Harry?” Ginny asks when Harry pokes his head into her bathroom to find her curling her hair.

7. Back Where We Began (Drarry, E, 25k)

“Merlin, I can’t believe I’m back here,” Ron groans.

8. Things Unknown but Longed for Still (Drarry, E, 29k)

Harry forced his eyes open and winced at the strong light in his bedroom.

9. We Keep Loving Anyway (Scorbus, E, 7k)

I’m embarrassed to admit how fast the thought came to mind after Scorpius was finally diagnosed.

10. On Stage (Drarry, E, 2k)

Harry walks into the empty club feeling almost electric.

Ok but I'm laughing at how almost all of them start with the character uncomfortable, disgruntled or in pain (and the rest manic or horny). I wasn't expecting there to be that clear of a pattern. I'm actually kind of surprised so few of them are dialogue, and that they're all pretty short.

Tagging @groundzero-v, @forestdeath1, @lovelymasks, @mycupofrum, @orange-peony, @roalinda if you haven't already and would like to <3

Also, if you think tag-games are fun and would like to be tagged in the future please like this post because I get nervous about tagging. (Also if you'd like to not be tagged by me feel free to unlike the post)

#tag game #cassirambles #fanfiction #writers game #patterns tag

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nebulablakemurphy · 7 months

Text

Through Love And By Love (Pt. 6)

Summary: Twenty-Two years ago, Draco Malfoy used the imperius curse to slow Voldemort’s rise to power. No good deed goes unpunished. Warning: this series contains mature subject matter surrounding use of the imperius curse, reader discretion advised.

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

Rosanna and Draco hadn't give much thought to co sleeping, before Leo was born. They thought, Draco in particular, that babies sleep in a crib; and nowhere else. But somehow, night after night, the baby finds her way into their bed. They use the proper spells, to make sure the little girl is safe while they sleep. She likes to be held and rocked against his chest. More over, she likes to use Rosanna as a human pacifier.

Draco wakes with a grin, rubbing sleep from his eyes. The morning sun peeks in, casting rays across the sheets and the infant beside him.

Draco stretches the arm that was under his pillow, over to card Ro's strawberry blonde locks. She looks peaceful, rested; still glowing in her own right.

She cracks open one eye to peek at him. "Creep."

"Can't a man admire his wife?" Draco scoffs.

"I’m not your wife." Rosanna says, smartly.

"Yet," He raises his brows, "you're not my wife, yet."

"We need to start planning, if you want to be married anytime soon." Ro nuzzles against her pillow.

"We could do a small ceremony," Draco traces the slope of her nose with his finger, "just us and a few witnesses."

"Draco Malfoy wants a small wedding?" She shakes her head, in disbelief.

"I want you," his eyes flicker to her plush lips, "the rest is unimportant to me."

"If we wait a year or two she can be our flower girl." Rosanna moves her gaze to Leo, stroking her white blonde hair.

"That's a thought." He chuckles, "although, I'm not sure I can wait."

"Impatient as ever, Mr. Malfoy." She feels Leo stir between them.

"Did Mummy wake you?" Draco asks, softly rolling the babe onto her back.

Leo grasps onto his nose as he leans closer. Her brown eyes barely open as she yawns.

"Don't let Daddy fool you,” Rosanna whispers to her daughter, “it's his fault."

————————————————————————

The little family is sitting in the living room, as rain pours over the windows. Curled up together watching television. A strange muggle contraption, gifted to them by Rosanna's grandmother.

Narcissa and Lucius are off on holiday, giving the young couple space, after their granddaughter's first weeks of life. Archer and Dixie stayed the first fourteen days as well. Everyone got along, both sets of grandparents rallying around their children to make sure they're settled, before finally stepping back.

Draco jumps at the sound of the doorbell, jostling Rosanna.

She giggles, "you're cute."

"I'll give you cute, you cheeky little-"

Ding Dong, the bell sounds again.

"Who the devil is carrying on like that?" He untangled himself from their shared blanket, making for the door on the first floor.

Rosanna stands, waiting for an update on the identity of their visitor.

"It's for you." Draco calls up to the sitting room.

"For me?" Rosanna moves toward the stairs. Leo now awake in the cradle of her arms.

Arthur, Molly, Fred, George, Ron and Ginny, along with Harry and Hermione, stand at the opposite end of the staircase.

"My savior," Fred trots up first, patting her head.

"Mum made tacos," George adds, following his brother.

"Yes, and gifts for baby." Molly smiles, drawing Rosanna in for a hug.

"You didn't have to-"

"Oh pish posh." Molly pulls away.

One by one the Weasleys fill the room.

"How are you, dear?" Arthur asks, clapping Rosanna on the back.

"Good, thanks." Ro is still surprised to see them, and here no less. "What are you all doing here?"

"Your mum sent an owl." Harry explains, they hold each other for a long moment, mindful of the baby in her arms.

"It's so good to see you." Rosanna kisses his cheek as they break apart.

"Not every day one of your best mates has a baby, you should have figured we'd turn up." Ron shrugs, moving to take Harry's place.

Hermione is last, both of them in tears when they finally meet in the middle.

"I know it's hard for you to be here, after the last time..." After Bellatrix.

"Don't worry," Hermione rubs circles against Rosanna's back, "I'm ok. We all are, somehow."

"Where can we set up? We've brought the works." Ginny asks, both hands full.

"Let me show you the dining room." Rosanna dries her eyes, waving them to follow.

"Massive house, not very homey." Ron says, no filter, ever.

"Don't be rude, Ronald." Hermione jerks the hand she's holding.

"Are they-" Rosanna turns to Harry with an arched brow.

"Brilliant, isn't it?" He confirms, following her down the hallway. "Where'd Malfoy run off to?"

"Don't tell me the bloke's too posh for tacos." Ron scoffs.

"You really think I'd procreate with someone who doesn't like tacos?" Rosanna shifts Leo in her arms. "I'll go grab him."

"Oi, the little darling can stay with us." Arthur suggests.

"Yeah don't hog her, no one's had a proper go yet." Ginny agrees, helping set up the massive table. The places are always done to perfection, although Rosanna has never eaten a meal there, until now.

"Who wants to-"

"Right here," Molly smiles, reaching for Leo gently, holding the babe close to her chest. "Look at those cheeks, my goodness."

"And all that hair," Hermione leans over, for a better look.

"Malfoy must be pleased." Harry remarks, with a slight smile.

Ginny elbows him, "she's lovely."

"I'll be right back," Rosanna hesitates near the doorway.

"Go on," Fred whispers, the only one to notice her nervousness, "she's with family."

————————————————————————

Rosanna eventually finds Draco in the library, sat in the high back leather chair, near the window.

"Hey, what happened?" She asks, leaning heavily against the door frame.

Draco doesn't look up from his book. "You wouldn't understand. You’d find common interest with any creature that crosses your path. Me? I'm Draco Malfoy, death eater."

"We all have things we're not proud of." The blonde sighs, pushing wayward hair behind her ears.

"I'm used to having things, objects, possessions, that are mine. You don't belong to me, I don't own you. It's very difficult for me, infuriating even." He turns a page, although he's not paying attention in the least.

"Will you stop pretending to read and talk to me?" Rosanna takes a step forward.

"I'm not pretending." He scoffs, indignantly.

"Ok," she rolls her eyes, crouching down and setting the book aside. "Wanna tell me what's really bothering you?" Rosanna squeezes his knees.

Draco’s icy gaze flickers up to the hair tie, holding the top portion her locks up. He scowls, adjusting the band. "I’d forgotten how unnerving it is to share you."

Rosanna chuckles, "I know that back at school, every time they’d walk into a room you'd walk out. But now, you can set the tone for how things are gonna be moving forward." She leans her elbows against his thighs. "So you can stay up here, if you want; or you can come back down stairs with me and have dinner, talk, maybe you'll even have a good time. Either way, I still love you. Either way when they leave, I'm still here with you.”

Where you go, I go. “Can’t very well say no to tacos."

————————————————————————

When they return downstairs, there are new faces around the table. Crabbe, Goyle, Pansy and Blaise, all sit looking mildly uncomfortable amongst Rosanna's friends.

"I hope you don't mind," Ginny says, "we heard them at the bell."

Rosanna forces a grin. "The more the merrier."

"What are you doing here?" Draco narrows his eyes at the four.

"Your parents sent an owl." Blaise shrugs.

"My parents?" Draco's brows furrow, why invite them all at the same time, knowing full well they don't get on?

"Yeah." Crabbe nods, eyeing the food that has yet to be served.

"Alright then." Draco takes his seat at the table.

"It'll be fine." Rosanna leans over to whisper, running a hand over his tense back as she sits aside him.

Draco is dressed down, sporting a black v-neck tee, and dark wash jeans. However his hair is still set to perfection, force of habit really.

Rosanna is a bit more comfortable, in an oversized quidditch jersey and leggings.

"She's got your hair." Pansy tells Draco. A tone of annoyance about her, as they are not the first, or only, guests.

"Never fancied babies, myself," Goyle notes, "they cry too much."

"Yeah, why's it being so quiet?" Crabbe tentatively looks toward the infant.

"She doesn’t cry much." Draco sniffs, missing the tiny baby in his arms.

"Is this right?" Harry asks Ginny, cradling Leo in his arms, nervously.

"I don't think you can do it wrong, mate." George chuckles.

"Unless you drop her." Fred chimes in.

"Hurt my daughter, and you're done for, Potter." Draco grimaces.

Rosanna swats the back of his head, some things never change.

"Shut it, Malfoy." Ron barks, "he's doing fine."

"Pansy and I brought this," Blaise extends the parcel to Draco.

"Thanks." Draco turns his nose up at the pair.

Blaise nods. "Now Potter, let's see the little bird." He rises to his feet.

"Have you ever held a baby?" Pansy puts a hand on his arm.

"If Potter can do it, so can I." Blaise reasons, making his way around the table.

They each have their fill of holding Leo, before the infant begins to fuss. Rosanna nursing her, beneath the knitted pink blanket, the Weasleys gifted.

"These tacos-" Crabbe breaks off, mouth stuffed, pointing both hands at his plate, "are fantastic."

"My Molly makes them from scratch." Arthur replies, fondly.

Crabbe gives a thumbs up, "well done."

"You sure it can breathe under there?" Goyle flicks his fork to indicate the blanket.

"She, not it, you imbecile." Draco replies, sneaking a quick glance beneath the fabric. Leo has never been fed beneath a cover, so he has to be sure. "She's breathing just fine."

"So tell me Draco, how's fatherhood treating you?" Arthur asks, taking a swig of his drink.

"I'd like to think I'm doing a decent job. But generally speaking, I'm useless; because I haven't got any-" Draco let's his hands drop to his lap, realizing he's been making the crudest gesture to represent breasts.

"Bazingas." The twins offer in unison.

"Exactly." Draco huffs a laugh.

"No matter, surely you've been changing your fair share of nappies." Mrs. Weasley says. "It's all about team work."

"And what about you sweetheart?" Mr. Weasley inquires. "Good labor?"

"Once I got the potion, it was pretty easy." Ro nods, stealing a second dollop of sour cream.

"Terrifying, really." Ron swallows.

"Hopefully everything rights itself," Harry scratches the back of his neck.

"Shall we have dessert then?" Molly asks, trying to save Ro anymore embarrassment.

"Yes please," Pansy nearly shoots out of her chair at the opportunity to switch gears.

"Cherry pie should do the trick." Mrs. Weasley moves quickly to her feet.

"On second thought-" Pansy averts her eyes.

"Oh bloody hell." Ron looks like he might be sick.

"Literally." The twins again in unison.

————————————————————————

A month later, things have begun to settle. Just in time for Draco to be served with papers to stand trial. He's not alone, Lucius and Narcissa are facing their own legal troubles.

"You'll likely be summoned by the ministry, to testify against me-"

"Against you?" Surely Rosanna's heard him wrong. Attempting to read the parchment over his shoulder.

He can't look at her as he hands the document over.

She skims it, 'use of memory altering charms, providing unauthorized access to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, attempted murder of Albus Dumbledore, abduction by means of the imperius curse and false imprisonment by means of the imperius curse.’

Rosanna clears her throat, taking a seat aside of him on the loveseat. "We have a month before the court proceedings. If we start building your case now-"

"I've done all the things I'm accused of." Draco cuts her off.

"Yes, but I think the reason why is equally important. We were trying to stop Voldemort." She reminds him.

"There's no we Rosanna, I did this!" Draco roars, in frustration. "I took your memories, I made you leave Hogwarts. I held you here. You conceived, and carried our daughter for five months, without choice. I deserve to rot in Azkaban for what I did to you alone.”

"It was my idea.” Her heart shatters. “Everything you did, was for me."

The corner of his mouth twitches, "does it then follow, that my actions are any less deplorable? What I've done to you is unforgivable."

"No, it's not." She takes his hands with conviction. "We were trying to do the right thing. I never meant for you get hurt."

————————————————————————

For simple trials, the officers of the court vote on scene, by a show of hands. This particular case requires more deliberation. Rosanna is asked to leave the room, Draco joins her in the waiting area just outside. He's hunched forward slightly, staring down at his shoes in his perfectly tailored suit.

Rosanna in a similarly colored knee length dress. Without a word she takes a seat on the bench, pulling Draco into her arms. Stroking his hair until she feels him relax into her.

"No matter what happens, I'm with you." She assures him. "I love you, we'll make this right. I'll never stop fighting for you."

"No," he pulls back, holding her face in his hands. "If I get sentenced to Azkaban, you have to let me go. Swear to me." Draco insists, his blue eyes shining with tears.

"I can't."

"You deserve a life. You deserve happiness and someone who can be there for you. You saw what the dementors did to my father, he was never himself, even after he left that place. I don't want you to see me like that. I don't want Leo to see me." He breaks off to collect himself. "You tell her that I love her, everyday. Tell her that I wanted to be there. Tell her that I'm sorry."

"You can tell her yourself." Rosanna replies, fiercely. Before kissing him, attempting, for the first time to push her stream of consciousness into his mind.

It must work, when they break apart, he looks astonished at her feelings for him. He is at peace, in this moment with her.

"If you ever start to lose yourself, remember this, remember me. Remember that I love you, and that I'll never stop." Ro wishes she could offer him more than that.

In the end, the case is dismissed. For reasons of: Draco Malfoy's age at the time of his actions, extenuating circumstance, and the unwillingness of the only surviving victim to press charges.

Draco is still in shock, frozen in the center of the courtroom. He can hear Rosanna's voice at his ear, as she wraps her arms around his neck, with such force he stumbles backwards. His shaky hands find their way to her, fisting in the material at the back of her black dress. Pressing her closer to him, knowing he'll never let go.

Part 7

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