"I'm Captain America, period"

. Dylan (she/her) . Pansexual . 20 years

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

gif @daryl-dixon-daydreams

Daryl, delirious from blood loss: Y’ever think—maybe we’re married?

Y/N: What?

Daryl: In like—apocalypse law. I hunt. Ya boss me ‘round. S’basically vows.

Y/N: You are not allowed to propose while actively bleeding.

Daryl: Don’t gotta propose if’n we’re already married.

[mssorceressupreme]

Our Deal | F.W

———

Pairing: Fred Weasley x hufflepuff!reader (works for any house really, except gryffindor for story purpose)

Summary: stuck in detention with Fred for a prank you never did, grants you the deal of a lifetime. Fred would help you get with your crush, Oliver Wood, and you get him with his, Gabriella Moon, in time for the Yule Ball. Though, as you spend more time teaching each other how to "flirt", complicated feelings start to arise.

Warnings/content: hufflepuff!reader, subtle enemies to lovers, mutual pining, jealous!fred, protective!fred, jealous!reader, mentions of alcohol, parties, quidditch injury, injured!reader, tension, flirting, kissing, teasing, Yule Ball

Wordcount: 6.8k (got carried away and kinda wrote a mini fic 😭🙏🏼)

———

“This is entirely your fault,” you snapped, bending down to scrub at the sticky residue on the stone floor. “I had nothing to do with that prank.” The potions storage room air reeked with the scent of something foul, probably from whatever concoction had spilled from the shelves earlier today. All thanks to that stupid explosion caused by none other than the twin's prank just outside the room.

You gestured around at the remnants of the prank—green goo still dripping from the shelves, a set of abandoned dungbombs rolling near the base of Snape’s desk. Crossing your arms, you huffed as you glared at Fred, who was leaning against the wall with that insufferable smirk, clearly enjoying your misery.

Fred chuckled, tossing a sponge into the air and catching it lazily. “Yeah, yeah, tell that to Snape. You just happened to be there, hands covered in fluorescent goo, looking guilty as hell, which might I add, doesn't help with your case.”

“I was cleaning up the mess, Fred, not causing it” you gritted out, shoving the bucket closer to him. “Unlike you, who just stood there laughing while George ran for his life.”

Fred grinned, bending down to soak his sponge in water. “Ah, Georgie. Quick on his feet, that one. Maybe you should take notes for next time.”

Lucky for George, he managed to escape Snape's fury, leaving the stupendous detention task of reorganising and cleaning the entire potions storage room to the two of you.

“There won’t be a next time because I don’t do pranks,” you retorted. “Unlike some people.”

Fred gasped, pausing from squeezing the water out of his sponge, “No pranks? No mischief? Merlin, what a dull existence.”

You scowled, but your lips twitched. “Not all of us live for chaos.”

“You sure? Because you seem to enjoy my company a lot for someone who claims to be innocent,” he teased, turning his attention to scrubbing the fluorescent goop from the floor.

“Oh, shush If I weren’t such a good person, I’d leave this room right now and tell Snape about the other pranks you and George are planning.”

Fred turned to face you, holding back a doubtful laugh as he momentarily stopped scrubbing, “You wouldn't dare, Y/L/N.” his tone sprinkled with a hint of mockery.

You rolled your eyes, dipping your sponge back into the murky water. “Unfortunately you're right.”

He raised an eyebrow, amused. “Because you secretly like me?”

“Because I’m not a snitch,” you corrected smugly. ____ An hour later, you were balancing on a stool, reaching for a jar of pickled salamander eyes while Fred stacked vials below. You glanced down at him, waiting for him to pass you more vials for the higher shelves.

A small played on his lips, Fred exhaled softly before handing you another vial, “Alright, since I do feel a tiny bit bad about dragging you into this, I’ll make it up to you.”

You raised your brow suspiciously. “How?”

Fred’s smirk returned. “The Yule Ball's coming up, right? I’ll help you get with whoever you want."

"In return, you promise not to rat me out about, oh, I don’t know, the prank in the Great Hall last week. Or the one from two days ago in McGonagall’s class. Or the—" He continued but you interjected swiftly.

Your eyes widened slightly, finally registering what he just offered. “You’re serious?”

“Dead serious,” he said, placing another vial on one of the lower shelves. “You name the bloke, and I’ll be your personal matchmaking genius.”

"You're kidding." You pressed your lips together, skeptical.

"Am not." He affirmed, "Go on, the look on your face says you have someone in mind Y/N."

A slow grin spread across your face, but you hesitated. "No one in mind." You shrugged.

Fred folded his arms, eyeing you up and down before tilting his head to the side, "I'm sensing...someone....taller than you?" Yeah, no kidding.

Without thinking you retorted, "Yeah obviously he's taller than me." Your hands flew at the speed of light to cover your mouth while turning to face away from Fred.

You hoped to hide your flushness, but you ended up losing your balance on the stool in the process. "Merlin, don't tell me you're quite literally falling for him." Fred quickly held your waist, steadying you before you could meet the ground. You grabbed his shoulder for support before adjusting yourself and returning to your respective task of arranging the vials on the upper shelf. You hadn't planned on telling anyone about your secret crush on Oliver Wood, but here you were, letting these words slip aimlessly out of your mouth.

Fred took your silence as an answer, curiosity lingering in the air.

"Ah, so there is someone on your mind." He pressed, "And who’s the unfortunate sod you fancy?"

You paused, feeling the heat of his gaze from below, "Oliver Wood..." You mumbled all too softly; even the house elves, with their sharp hearing abilities, wouldn't be able to decipher what you said.

Exhaling, you got down from the stool, standing in front of Fred and avoiding eye contact at all costs. He took slow tentative steps toward you, bending down to your level so he could hear, "Come again?" You could feel his breath on your skin.

Your eyes found his, not registering how close he was, "Oliver Wood." Your face tainted a light shade of red.

Fred choked on air, a loud chortle escaped him, "Wood? The Gryffindor Captain, Mr. ‘Quidditch is My One True Love’?"

"Shut up," you mumbled, heat rising to your cheeks. You placed a hand on his chest and shoved him away playfully, "Don't tell anyone! I'll vanish off the face of this earth if you do."

Fred laughed, shaking his head. “Blimey, you’ve got high standards.”

“I barely know him, but he’s just—” You sighed wistfully. “He’s so kind and driven and—”

“Obsessed with Quidditch?” Fred interjected.

“Yes, but in a dedicated way,” you said dreamily.

Fred snorted. "Merlin, alright, fine. I’ll help you. But just know that if I have to listen to you swoon over Wood for the next month, you owe me more than just detention duty."

You beamed. “Deal.”

“Good. Because I might need your help, too.”

You tilted your head, furrowing your brows. “With what?”

Fred leaned forward conspiratorially. “Gabriella Moon.”

"Gabriella? As in, my Gabriella?"

"I didn’t realise you had ownership over her," Fred mused. "But yes, your Hufflepuff friend."

You nodded, grinning. "Oh for sure, I can definitely help with that. Piece of cake."

Gabriella was in your house, a sweet and kind Hufflepuff, and you got along with her well. Setting her up with Fred should be a simple, easy, task.

"Alright, Weasley. You’ve got yourself a deal."

Fred held out his hand, and you shook it—sealing a pact neither of you realised would completely change everything.

"Our deal." He affirmed.

____ The deal meant spending more time together. At first, it was simple things—giving each other tips, practicing flirting, and being seen together enough to spark curiosity.

One evening in the Great Hall, Fred joined you at the Hufflepuff table. Your friends sat with you, but you were so engrossed with Fred, that everyone seemed to disappear into the background, feeling as though it was only the two of you in the hall.

Fred leaned in with a smirk after placing a dinner roll on your plate, which he knew you enjoyed pairing with butter. "Alright, say I’m Oliver—how would you charm me?"

You exhaled dramatically. "Fine." You turned to him, putting on your best smile. "Hey, Oliver, fancy seeing you here. Do you always look this good after practice?"

Fred chortled, nearly choking on his pumpkin juice. "Merlin’s beard, that was atrocious."

You gasped, smacking his arm. "It was not!"

"It was!" Fred wheezed, clutching his chest. "Try again, but maybe without sounding like a lovesick poet."

You scowled but tried again. "Alright, then. How about this—‘I hear you’re the best Keeper Hogwarts has ever had. Think you could keep me?’"

Fred blinked, then groaned throwing his head back. "Oh, that was painful."

You shoved his shoulder, laughing. "I hate you."

"Sure you do," he teased, winking. "Now, do I get a turn?"

"Go on, then," you challenged, crossing your arms.

Fred turned, propped his elbow on the table, and smirked. "Hey, Gabriella," he began, "are you a Snitch? Because you’ve got me chasing after you."

You stared at him, face scrunching up in disgust. It was as though you had just witnessed a crime.

He wiggled his eyebrows before taking a mouthful of peas, chewing as he awaited your response.

You burst out laughing. "Oh, that’s horrible. No wonder you need my help."

Fred's mouth dropped, "Excuse you, that was a good chat up. Thank you very much."

You both laughed, completely unaware of the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs watching the way you two bantered—how Fred’s eyes softened when you laughed, how you bit your lip when he grinned. You weren't super close to Fred, just casual friends, but you had to admit, these few recent days had you seeing him in a different light, he was more carefree around you, cheery, and you felt yourself coming out of your shell, all thanks to him.

You were confident in approaching Oliver now, and all the more excited for it.

____

"No, no! Merlin, Fred, you're going to scare the girl away if you look at her like that." The next few days were all about perfecting your tactics, anything to impress your targets, of course.

"Like what?" He sat beside you on the couch in the Gryffindor common room. It was a Saturday, and naturally, most students were either at Hogsmeade, outside, or sleeping in, leaving most of the space to the two of you.

"Again! Again..." You waved your hands, ushering him off the couch. "Pretend I'm Gabriella, and I'm sitting on a bench somewhere nice. You've just walked into the place, and you see her."

Fred straightened his shirt, retreating from the couch, before strolling over to you again, a devious smirk painted on his face, his hair slightly tousled and messy. He held his chin up high, and his arms swayed beside his lanky figure as he approached you.

"Y/N? Fancy seeing you here!" He beamed, pretending to act out the scenario.

"Wrong." You corrected, "Not Y/N, Gabriella." You flashed your brows, and he exhaled, walking away to take his place once again.

He strolled to you, once more, "Gabriella! Haven't seen you in a bit! What brings you here?"

You nodded, indicating he was doing a decent job so far, encouraging him to continue.

Fred plopped himself beside you, your knees were touching and he extended an arm around you.

"I"m good! This is my favourite place to unwind actually." You fake-mocked Gabriella, pretending to be her in this situation.

"Well, then I guess you'll be seeing me here more often, darling." Fred leaned in, you could feel his body heat against you, and you blinked before shaking your head.

"Darling? You barely know the girl!" You chuckled, and Fred's eyes glinted with awe as you threw your head back, he had not realised it, but your laughter ignited a warm honey like feeling in his chest.

"Fine, what about love? Baby? Babe?"

"No no, save those for when you're actually with her, but I suppose 'love' is a good place to start."

"Alright, love." He teased, and you playfully smacked him but an idea popped into your head, and immediately, you got into character.

"If you say so, Oliver." You pretended to act as if you would in this scenario with Wood.

Fred, still seated next to you, glanced down from your eyes to your lips.

You leaned in, tilting your head and gazing from his left eye, to his lips, then to his right eye. You smiled sweetly, blinking slowly as you gave Fred your full attention, staring at him with doe-like eyes, "So, Oliver, how was quidditch practice today?"

Fred gulped, eyes blinking rapidly as he coughed, "G-Good."

You smirked, lowering your voice, "I'm sure it would've been better if I was there with you." You bit your lip as you glanced at his lips.

"You should come to the next one." Fred responded softly, smiling as he leaned in, ever so slightly, one arm still wrapped around you, and you were fully within his proximity.

You could feel your breaths against each other; his scent crept its way to your nose, and you scrunched it. He smelt like fresh grass on a hot summer's day and clean laundry in the fresh breeze, something you'd never noticed before.

There was a moment of comfortable silence, but the portrait door clicked open, and some students returned from their trip to Hogsmeade.

"That was, uh, something I'd say if I was with Oliver." You quickly dismissed this, leaning back to a comfortable distance. Fred cleared his throat, and removed his arm, "Yeah, that was good. See, told you I was a good teacher."

You scoffed, "You? Please that one was all me."

"S'pose you are getting pretty good at this, annoyingly so, in fact." He hummed and you mouth dropped slightly,

"Is that a compliment?" You beamed, wiggling a happy dance in your seat.

"Don't get too cocky Y/L/N, I have yet to see you interact with him." Fred laughed, attempting to hide his awe for your little dance.

____

Days passed, and you found yourself spending an increasing amount of time at the Gryffindor table, supposedly to get closer to Oliver. But somehow, you always ended up next to Fred, bickering, laughing, sharing food.

People noticed—Hermione tried, and failed miserably to hide her excitement for you two, George outright smirked, Ginny started whispering to Harry, smiling at the thought of the two of you, Ron was amused at how Fred could pull someone as gorgeous as you.

Only you and Fred knew about your deal, to them, they saw this as a newfound friendship, alliance, even...romance? Hermione seems to think the latter describes your relationship perfectly.

You brushed it off, for you knew that you were only helping each other, and once the deal was over, you would go back to normal.

The topic of quidditch was no foreign topic at this table, Harry making remarks about how he'll confront Malfoy, Angelina and George talking about the Nimbus 2000, Oliver and Fred discussing a new game plan.

"Hey Y/N, why don't you come watch us at practice today after lunch, it'll be fun." Oliver invited you, and you blinked in surprise.

"I'd love to!" You chimed, "How could I pass on a chance to support the best quidditch team at Hogwarts?"

Oliver beamed, laughing softly at your enthusiasm, "Ooh careful now, don't want Hufflepuff's quidditch team to hear that now do ya?"

"Consider me an ally of both teams." You chuckled, and he grinned, smiling warmly at you.

"Surely you become an honourary Gryffindor for the day?" Oliver raised his brow, before taking a bite of his toast.

"Won't miss me too much when I switch back to Hufflepuff would you?" You teased.

"Then I'll just ask you to join Gryffindor again."

You were about to pour yourself some orange juice, but Oliver moved at the speed of light, "Here, let me." He poured a glass for you, then one for himself. "Fred? Some for you too?"

"Nah mate, I'm pretty full."

Fred silently watched the two of you interact; a part of him was happy and proud, seeing the way you effortlessly interacted with Oliver, but there was this foreign feeling inside him. Like a splinter poking him from the inside, if that were even possible.

His eyes darted from you, to Oliver, then back to you.

Each time you paid attention to Oliver, laughed at his quips, his charm, a small part of Fred wanted that attention from you, again.

He wanted you for himself.

Fred shook his head, dismissing all these thoughts, where were they even coming from? He knew one thing thought, he was being silly thinking about you like this.

However, Gabriella was starting to become a long-forgotten thought.

The only person consuming his mind lately, seemed to be…you.

Fred exhaled, taking a sip of his water, hoping to refresh his mind from whatever nonsense he thought about.

It didn’t matter anyway because after this deal was done, and you were happy with Oliver, that was it. You’d go your separate ways, well, mostly. That was, after all, the whole point of you becoming close with Fred.

"By the way, is it alright if I bring a friend?" You asked Oliver.

"The more the merrier!"

"I'll bring Gabriella." You whispered trying to contain your excitement, nudging Fred who was seated beside you.

He was quickly snapped out of his thoughts, "Oh, yeah, that'll be great."

____

Later that afternoon, you sat in the stands with Hermione, Gabriella, and Ginny, watching Gryffindor’s practice. Oliver was in his element—focused, determined, calling out plays.

Your eyes were glued to him, who looked impossibly handsome as he soared through the air, his hair ruffled by the wind. He turned, caught your gaze, and waved with that signature kind smile of his.

Your heart stuttered and a faint blush crept on your cheeks, moments like this only pulled you in deeper. Part of the reason you fell for him, was that one day you were lost and he helped you find your way to class. Being younger than him, he felt the duty to lookout for his juniors, he was patient, kind and made you feel right at home when you felt lost. His kindness was just so endearing.

"Go Oli!!" You cheered, and Oliver waved at you again.

"Nicknames already?" Hermione, seated next to you, smiled knowingly and you chuckled as a response.

"Fred looks really determined today, isn't that a good look on him?" You nudged Gabriella, hoping to steer her focus onto Fred.

"Yeah, he does look kinda cute." She agreed, grinning up at him. "Also, thanks for inviting me Y/N, this is really nice." Gabriella turned to you, smiling sweetly. She was a kind soul, much like you, always helping others and making sure everyone felt comfortable. Of course guys would fancy her.

Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted Fred. His red hair caught the sunlight in a way that made it seem almost golden, his strong frame relaxed but still commanding attention as he sat on his broomstick, laughing with George.

There was something about him today—maybe the way his sleeves were rolled up, or the effortless confidence he carried. And for some reason, your found your heartpace steadily increasing as you continued observing him.

No. No, this was about Oliver. You shook the thought away and focused on the Gryffindor Captain instead.

Moments later, Angelina, Oliver, and Katie flew over, beaming. “Oi, you lot! Come play a friendly match with us!” Angelina called, gesturing eagerly.

You hesitated. “Oh, I don’t know... I’m not really—”

“Come on, it’s just for fun,” Oliver encouraged, flying closer. His eyes met yours, playful and inviting. You wanted to impress him. So, against better judgment, you stood and dusted off your robes. The four of you made your way down to the grassy field, and used some spare brooms.

Ginny, Hermione, and Gabriella exchanged amused glances but joined in as well.

You borrowed a broomstick—the nearest one, which happened to be Fred’s. "Can I?" You smirked, turning to Fred who took a quick break, reaching into his bag for his bottle.

"Yeah yeah, if you break it I'll crack your head." Fred teased, before chugging his water. With that, you kicked off the ground, feeling the rush of wind as you soared into the air.

The game was lighthearted, filled with teasing and playful competition. You and Oliver found yourselves in the same airspace often, exchanging witty remarks and laughter.

It felt effortless, easy. Below, Fred stood watching, arms crossed, watching in amusement as you 'bonded' with Oliver. Though you weren't sure if amusement, was the right word to use here, seeing how he kept tapping his foot.

“You’re getting the hang of this!” Oliver grinned, flying beside you.

“I’m just trying to keep up,” you joked, glancing at him.

So caught up in the moment, you didn’t notice the Bludger hurtling toward you until it slammed into your shoulder with brutal force.

Pain exploded through your arm, and your broom wobbled violently beneath you. You gasped as your grip faltered, and before you knew it, you were falling.

The ground rushed toward you, and you thudded harshly on the grassy patch. Ouch.

Oliver flew down hastily, but before he could reach you, Fred was already there, kneeling beside you, face pale.

“Are you daft?” he scolded, voice tight. “Didn’t you see that Bludger?”

You winced, trying to sit up. “It wasn’t that bad—”

“Not that bad? You fell from twenty feet up,” he snapped, his hands hovering over you like he didn’t know where to touch in case he hurt you further. “You’re going to the hospital wing.”

Oliver finally reached you, eyes filled with concern. “You alright?” He looked from you to Fred, who was still kneeling beside you, jaw clenched.

“I’m fine,” you muttered, but Fred wasn’t having it. Before you could protest, he scooped you up effortlessly, ignoring your weak protests.

“You’re being overdramatic,” you huffed, but your heart betrayed you, beating erratically against your ribs as Fred carried you toward the castle.

“I’ll be the judge of that,” he shot back, striding forward without a second glance at Oliver, who remained standing on the pitch, watching with an expression that hinted he had figured something out.

He observed as Fred held you close, furrowing his eyebrows slightly, "Hm." He was so sure that you and Fred were just friends, but the way Fred acted today made Oliver doubtful.

The others stayed back to practice, you assured them that you were fine, and that there was no need to come. ___

Madam Pomfrey fussed over you, muttering about reckless students and dangerous sports as she poured a bitter healing potion down your throat. “You’re lucky it wasn’t a full-speed hit,” she chided, waving her wand to mend the bruising on your shoulder.

Fred stayed beside you the whole time, leaning against the infirmary bed with that signature mischievous glint returning to his eyes. “So, you were trying to impress Wood, huh?” he mused, arching a brow.

“Shut up,” you muttered, cheeks warming.

“Not my fault you nearly died doing it,” he teased, nudging you playfully. “Maybe I should give you some lessons on how to survive Quidditch.”

You rolled your eyes, unable to stop the smile tugging at your lips. “Maybe I should give you lessons on how to stop being so intolerable.”

Fred smirked. “Where’s the fun in that?”

You laughed, the earlier pain fading into the background as the two of you fell into easy conversation.

He stayed with you the rest of the day until you felt better enough to head back to your dorm.

____

The next day, the Gryffindor vs. Slytherin match had the entire school buzzing with chatter. The game was brutal, with Slytherin coming in close, though Gryffindor still came out victorious.

The moment the Snitch was caught, the stands erupted into cheers, the players celebrating mid-air before descending to the field. You watched Fred among them, his face lit up with triumph. When his eyes met yours, something unspoken passed between you.

And you weren’t so sure anymore if Oliver Wood was the one making your heart race.

You, Hermione and Gabriella made your way down to the team, "You guys smashed it out there." You chimed, clapping for the them.

"Couldn't have done it without your support." Oliver walked over to you, hi-fiving your hand which you extended for him.

"You played amazingly, especially in the second half! Fred—the way you hit the bludger right before it touched the ground, just, wow!" Gabriella beamed, waving her hands around expressively.

"Hey, all in a day's work." Fred expressed, cockily brushing his hands together which earned a giggle from Gabriella.

"You know, you should come to the party tonight, hosted by yours truly." Fred shuffled closer to Gabriella, extended his arms as he gave himself credit for hosting the party.

"More of a team effort actually, he just talks too much." Lee quipped, "But yeah, you guys should come. Gryffindor common room, at 7."

"We'll be there." Gabriella replied for the two of you, twirling her hair as she smiled sweetly at Fred.

You were happy for her truly, especially Fred, who was grinning back at her, engaging in a new conversation about what'll transpire at the party tonight.

You were happy. Yes, you were.

But, does someone who is supposedly happy for their friend, feel a pit in their stomach every time they watch them with their respective crush?

____

"How do I look?" Gabriella asked, gesturing to her outfit, fitted flared blue jeans and a yellow peplum top, with a yellow bow to accessorise.

"You look stunning, Fred's going to love it!" You chimed, "Oh wait, here-" You helped straightened her bow from the behind, "Perfect."

"Look who's talking, Oliver's going to swoon over you when he sees you in that black dress!" Gabriella stood beside you, looking in the full body mirror, shaking with excitement for the party.

The two of you made your way over to the Gryffindor common room, met with a few ravenclaws and fellow hufflepuffs by the portrait entrance.

It was no surprise that the common room was alive with celebration and merriment. You and Gabriella stepped inside, immediately greeted by George and Lee, who enthusiastically showed you around.

"Welcome welcome! You guys look great!" Lee hyped you two up, always the enhusiast.

Laughter, chatter, and the warmth of victory filled the space. As your eyes scanned the room, they landed on Fred and Oliver by the fireplace, who spotted you and beckoned you both over with bright grins.

After a while of lively conversation in the group, you and Gabriella naturally parted ways—her heading away to the couch with Fred while Oliver guided you to where his friends stood.

You chatted and laughed, but something felt off. Your attention was divided, and no matter how much you tried to focus on Oliver and his friends, your eyes kept finding Fred’s.

Across the room, you noticed his eyes constantly meeting yours, just as much as yours longed to find his.

You were snapped out of your gaze when one of Oliver’s friends playfully nudged you, shoving a drink into your hands. “Come on, have some firewhiskey on me! You’ve got to celebrate properly!”

"Oh wow, where'd you manage to get that?" You asked, curious as to how he managed to sneak in alcohol. Granted, he was older than you so it was fair to assume he was more daring when it came to liquor.

"I have my sources." The guy wiggled his brows, "Come on, drink up Y/N, join us!"

You hesitated. “I’m good, really.”

“Oh, don’t be a buzzkill. Just one!” He pushed again, grinning as if it were a challenge.

“I said I don’t want to.” Your voice was firmer now, but he rolled his eyes.

Oliver sensed your discomfort and interjected swiftly, “Knock it off Felix. She doesn’t have to drink if she doesn’t want to.”

"Alright alright, you're just a wee girl after all innit." Felix chuckled, "More for me then."

Wee girl? Merlin, who does he think he is? You scoffed to yourself, shifting closer to Oliver.

Still, the group laughed it off, and you suddenly felt uncomfortable, wanting to be anywhere but here. You excused yourself quickly, heading upstairs to a quieter gryffindor study room.

The party noise faded, and you sank into one of the couches, taking a deep breath.

A knock came at the door, before it slowly opened.

Truthfully, a wave of relief washed over you when you saw Fred entering, his usual smugness replaced with something softer. “Saw Felix being a git, it's safe to say he won't ever bother you again.”

Fred's implication that he had a word with Felix made you all the more relieved, you exhaled softly, nodding.

You smiled weakly. “Thanks.”

He stood at the doorframe for a second, inspecting your state before slowly walking over. The couch dipped upon the weight of him as he sat beside you.

“You okay?” He nudged you with his body gently.

You nodded, looking forward though you felt his gaze on you. “Yeah. Just needed a minute.”

He listened intently, offering you the silence you much needed after the earlier commotion.

There was a pause before you turned to face him, “How’s it going with Gabriella?”

Fred shrugged. “Good,” he lied, then exhaled. “Alright, fine. She’s nice, but I think I bored her to death. She’s talking to Neville about some plants now.”

You chuckled. “Plants are fascinating.”

“To you, maybe. Not exactly my best topic,” Fred admitted. "Might buy a bouquet or two, but other than that I'm clueless."

"If you do, red roses are the way to go. She loves them, practically every girl does."

"Including you?"

"I adore them. Sounds a bit basic but they're a classic for a reason, they're just so...romantic." Your eyes glistened as you spoke about roses, dreaming of the day someone would buy you flowers.

"Noted, I'll pass a good word to Oliver." Fred chuckled, smiling at the way your eyes lit up, but his smiled disappeared when you frowned, a sigh escaping your lips.

“I think I’m losing it with Oliver. I feel like a total idiot for not drinking in front of him and his friends."

Fred shook his head. “Nah, you’re not an idiot....maybe a little, but not a full blown one." You slapped his arm playfully, but he continued, raising his hands in defence, "If anything, that makes you better than them. You don’t need to do anything to impress him, so what if you don't feel like drinking?”

"I don't think I'll face him again, if his friends hate me, he'll probably grow to dislike me." You groaned, burying your face in your hands.

"Nothing a little flirting can't solve," Fred was optimistic, attempting to cheer you up in this moment of despair, "Next time you see him, get more touchy. When you laugh, place a hand on his arm, lean on him, lean in to him...y'know, the usual."

"Ugh, in front of his friends?" You grumbled.

"All the better, shows you've got game." He continued to give you tips on how to approach Oliver again later, helping you plan your next move.

It was only fair of you to return the favour, leaning in slightly. “Right, so, lean in when you talk to her, like this,” you said, demonstrating the closeness.

Fred swallowed, blinking at you. “Like this?” He mimicked you, your shoulders were touching all the more, your face near his neck, his mouth a few inches away from your forehead.

You nodded, voice softer now. “And maybe say something like… ‘Your eyes are a remarkable shade of hazel, I never noticed how stunning they were until up close now. They sparkle beautifully in the moonlight, yet they manage to shine even brighter when you're caring.’”

It was meant for Gabriella. But as you spoke, something in your chest tightened. You were speaking to Fred. Really speaking to him. His hazel eyes met yours, and he leaned in once more.

His mouth parted slightly, as his eyes darted to your lips then back to your eyes. You found yourself leaning in too, your breathing became heavy.

Your heart felt like it was going to pounce out of your chest with the rate it was beating.

The air between you stilled as you both realised the weight of your words.

Before he could respond, the door creaked open. You and Fred jumped apart just as Oliver and Gabriella entered, looking at you both in confusion.

“There you are, we were wondering where you two had vanished off too.” Gabriella remarked, her eyes darting from Fred to you.

Your heart raced and Fred's face flushed a shade of red. Though completely innocent, if felt as though you were caught doing something you weren't supposed to be doing.

Flustered, you quickly went to Oliver, while Gabriella made her way to Fred.

The rest of the party carried on, fun and lively, but you couldn’t shake the strange feeling that lingered. No matter how much you tried to focus on Oliver, your gaze kept drifting back to Fred.

____

The anticipation leading up to the Yule Ball had everyone on edge. With the Yule Ball near approaching, the talk of the castle revolved around the ball; students asking each other to the dance, flowers being exchanged, and whispers filling the corridors.

You woke up that morning with only one name in your mind—Fred Weasley. It was irritating, really. You weren’t supposed to be thinking about him. You liked Oliver. You were going with Oliver. And yet, Fred’s stupid, mischievous grin had invaded your thoughts like an unrelenting charm.

At breakfast, you sat with Gabriella at your usual hufflepuff table, chatting about the Yule Ball. She was gushing about how beautiful everything was going to look, the magical snowflakes, the ice sculptures, the romantic lighting. You smiled along, but your mind was elsewhere. Across the hall, Fred was laughing with George, but every so often, you swore you caught him glancing at you.

After your 'Defence Against the Dark Arts' class, you walked out with Harry, Ron, and Hermione when Oliver approached. He was holding a bouquet of red roses, his confident smile making you a blushing mess.

"Y/N," he said warmly, holding out the flowers. "Would you do me the honour of accompanying me to the Yule Ball?"

You paused, then beamed. "Of course, Oliver. I'd love to!" He pulled you in for a warm hug while students around you cheered, and whistled loudly.

You were happy—you really were. This was what you wanted, wasn’t it? But as you took the roses, a strange heaviness settled in your chest.

Later that day, you found yourself with Fred, helping him prepare to ask Gabriella. You were ranting about Oliver, swooning over how charming he was. Fred, though smiling, was already fuming inside. He wanted to be happy for you. He wanted to believe this was all fine. But every word you spoke about Oliver grated on his nerves.

"Do you think Gabriella will like this?" Fred asked, holding up a box of assorted chocolates, changing the topic quickly after countless nods and 'that's great' as a response to you gushing over Oliver.

You turned to him, considering. "Yeah, she will, can't go wrong with chocolate. You got this, Freddie!"

"Right," he said, running a hand through his hair, looking more uncertain than usual. He was prolonging it, he knew it. He didn't want to ask her. He had someone else on his mind now. But what choice did he have? You were already going with Oliver.

When he finally did ask Gabriella in the courtyard, you cheered for him, clapping as she said yes. It was the right outcome—technically, you both won. And yet, watching Fred grin as he hugged Gabriella filled you with an unexpected wave of envy.

_____

The Yule Ball arrived in a flurry of excitement. You walked down the stairs with Oliver, arm in arm, dressed in your most elegant red gown. Across the entrance, you saw Fred with Gabriella. You both gave each other thumbs-up and smiled, though your smile never quite reached your eyes, nor did Fred's.

As you approached the entrance, Oliver and Gabriella walked in first, conversing with each other, leaving you and Fred standing alone for a moment.

Fred shoved his hands into his pockets before breaking the silence, "So…we both got what we wanted."

You exhaled, forcing a smile. "Yeah…we both got with our dates. All too smoothly, I might add."

You both chuckled, but there was an undeniable weight in the air.

"You look nice, cleaned up well for Oliver eh? Lucky bloke." Fred joked, though his voice was laced with subtle serious undertone.

"Hm, you don't look like a grindylow for once, I see you clean up pretty nicely too."

He chuckled softly, removing his hands from his pockets. Neither of you moved, it was as though a silent message of 'please stay here with me' was shared.

You hesitated before extending your hand. "Thank you, Fred. For everything."

He took your hand, shaking it lightly, but neither of you let go. There was a static, a spark, if you would, something both of you didn’t want to ignore. You both looked down at your touching hands, then back to each other.

Oblivious as to what the other party was thinking, the two of you decided to ignore it, let go, and move on, for the better, right?

"So, that's our deal done then?" you said slowly, though regretting it.

Fred swallowed hard, nodding. "Yeah. I'll, uh…see you around school then."

Your heart clenched, but for the sake of the ball, you put on your best grin. "I'll see you around, Fred."

You then turned to Oliver who was a few steps ahead, extending his arm to you. As you walked with him into the ballroom, you turned back one last time.

Fred was still standing there. You waved. He waved back, smiling—but his eyes told you that there was something masked beneath that smile. Gabriella came up to him, and they walked inside together, you turned forward to let them have their moment.

The ball was everything you imagined—beautiful, magical, enchanting. Oliver was the perfect gentleman, twirling you around the dance floor, kissing your hand, your cheek, your forehead, even. He got you punch, held the door open, pulled out your chair, he was the ideal guy, truly ticking off all your boxes.

You smiled at him, but your heart was never quite satisfied, there was a space yet to be filled.

And you hated that you knew why.

Your eyes kept drifting to him. He was dancing with Gabriella, but his mind was far away. Uncomfortable. Lost.

You chuckled to yourself, shaking off this silly feeling, turning your attention back to Oliver, who was explaining about his latest tactics for the upcoming Quidditch match with ravenclaw.

____

Later that night, Oliver walked you back to your common room. He leaned down, pressing a sweet kiss to the back of your hand. "Goodnight, Y/N."

You lips curled up into a grateful smile, thanking him for the wonderful evening, but as he turned to leave, something inside you snapped.

If something was wrong, you needed to fix it. Merlin, what's the point in waiting? If something didn't feel right, your gut knew that you had to fix it right away. And this, was one of those moments.

You turned on your heel and ran in your red gown. Through the castle, past students, up and down staircases—you had no plan, no direction, just a need to find him.

Until you did.

At the main staircase, you froze. Fred was at the bottom, looking up at you. He was holding a bouquet of red roses.

Your throat tightened, immediately regretting your decision. "For Gabriella?"

Fred shook his head. "No." He stepped forward, "They're for you."

Your paused, holding your breath as he started walking up the stairs, to you.

"Y/N, I—" Fred hesitated, then exhaled sharply. "I don’t want Gabriella. I don't think I ever did, truthfully. I just…I wanted to be with you. And I was too much of a git to see it until it was too late."

Tears burned at your eyes. "Fred—"

"I don't care about the deal. I don't care about anything except you. I don't want to ever lose you Y/N. And if I have to watch you with Oliver one more time, I think I might actually go mental."

He was close now, the roses in one hand, the other reaching for you.

You let out a shaky laugh. "You're such a git, you know that?"

Fred grinned, brushing a strand of hair from your cheek and tucking it behind your ear. "Yeah. But I’m your silly git, if you'll have me."

You didn’t give him a chance to say anything else. You surged forward, crashing your lips to his, your hands gripping his suit. He dropped the flowers, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you flush against him.

It was passionate, desperate, hungry, everything you had ever wanted but had been too blind to admit. The kiss of two people who were starving and desperately in need of each other. Fred savoured every bit of your mouth, as though tomorrow would never come, ending with a sweet peck.

When you finally pulled back, breathless, a grin sprawled across that deviously handsome face of his, his hair messy but Merlin, it was such a look on him. "So, I take it that’s a yes, love?"

You laughed, leaning your forehead against his. "Yes, you fool."

Fred cupped your face, thumb brushing over your cheek once again. "Best deal I’ve ever made."

[orchidsgrowfromthesoul]

oh to be 13 years old again, staying up late to read fanfiction

[undead-dinosaur]

Whatever you do, don't think about Blue Sargent sitting through St. Mark's Eve vigil when she was ten.

Don't think about her, tiny and dutiful, taking notes of all the names her mom tells her. Don't think about how she feels very, very proud for not being afraid, because despite her mom saying there'snothing to be afraid of when it comes to ghosts, it is cold and dark and creepy, but she's helping, so she's not scared.

Don't think about when Maura pauses, after telling her the names of a few people - some old, some not so much, but all adults, all having lived a full life already - and asked, soft, talking to a kid "what's your name?"

Don't think about how she looked very, very sad, and told Blue "Noah Czerny". Don't think about how she was probably heartbroken to find a seventeen-year-old boy with a caved-in cheek, looking scared and sad, betrayed, even if he doesn't know by whom, yet.

Don't think about how Blue probably mispelled his last name, how the had to move on because more people were going to die that year, how the name got lost in the shuffle and in the memories of seven other vigils.

And for the love of God, don't think about an older Blue looking through old lists because the box is too full or something, and finding, in her ten-year-old self's handwriting, shaky and loopy, "Noah Kzerni".

[simplyhale]

fix your shirt t.b. (18+)

tim bradford x fem! reader

summary; getting locked up in the evidence lockup with tim during a storm isn’t too bad.

notes; divider by the fabulous @uzmacchiato !! this is what happenes when i have an idea and finish it when im ovulating. i do think this is much better then my first attempt at smut but let me know what yall think !! some of the warnings — swearing, dirty talk, dom!tim, HE LITERALLY TEASE YOU ABOUT HOW TURNED ON YOU ARE?, dirty talk, pet names, unprotected sex, fingering, HE IS LITERALLY FINGERING YOU AGAINST A WALL

words; 4188

— ⋆ 𝝑𝝔˚⟡˖ ࣪.

A bright light filled the station, followed behind with a loud boom of thunder that shook the walls slightly. Your head snapped over to the closest window, watching as a waterfall flowed down, causing a blurry, warped filter to be placed on the glass so anything on the other side couldn’t be made out.

Letting out a sigh, hearing the sounds of the distance, rolling thunder, you turned your attention back to your paperwork. 

Your shift ended almost two hours ago. But when the rain started, so did the influx of calls. More calls, combined with bad weather  meant you were going to be drowning in paperwork. Luckily, you only had about twenty or so pages left. It wasn’t so bad though, because right across from you in the dimly lit bullpen, he was in the same situation as you.

“Even if I get done with all this, I’m still gunna have to wait for the rain to stop before I even think about going home.”

“Yeah, because I’m more than likely going to have to answer that call.”

“I would have to die before calling you because I hydroplaned.” You remarked looking up at Tim, who simply rolled his eyes at you before looking back down at his desk. Watching him for a few moments, studying the way a small wrinkled form in the middle of his brows as he concentrated on his work. He readjusted his wrist, and the veins on his forearm bulged out before sinking back in, disappearing back into his skin.

Tearing your eyes away after realizing you hadn’t remembered how long you had been staring at him, you dropped your pen onto your desk and brought your hands together. Pushing the fingers on your hands back and forth, feeling the satisfying pop of the joints, which were once tense from holding the black ballpoint pen, but were now loose and feeling slightly better.

Looking down at the paper, picking right where you had left off. Your brows quickly frowned at the confusing set of numbers. “Huh?” You muttered under your breath, checking the copy of the evidence list you had.

Before the rain had started, you had been called to a department store where a 30-year-old woman was shoplifting. Insisting that she was going to pay for everything, every person in the store claimed that she was trying to just walk out. The total of everything was just under $800. Maybe it was because you were bored, or maybe it was because she kept yelling directly in your face, but you suggest that she should at least try her card before you take her to jail. She tried it almost four separate times, and each time it was declined. She then tried to shove you out her way, only adding an assault charge to the shoplifting one. Because of how much was taken, you had to make sure that all the items matched the evidence number, which of course had gotten messed up during the chaos of the sudden storm outside. 

Reaching down and grabbing your I.D. card before pushing your chair back. Getting up and walking down the hallway towards the evidence room. Normally there’s someone at the desk, but this late into the night, no one was. Watching as the light turned from red to green as you pressed your card against it and opened the now unlocked door. Walking down towards where your box should be. Looking around the shelf that was at your eye level, but saw nothing that had your signature or matching case number on.

Searching along the shelf above, then the next one, and the one after that. Some idiot had put it nearly four shelves higher than you could reach. 

“You gotta be kidding be,” 

Looking around the room to see not a single stool or ladder in sight. You rubbed your dry, tired eyes, trying to figure out how you were going to reach the box. The first thought to come to mind was to climb the shelves. But with one small shake the whole structure of rusty pipes creaked and swayed, clearly showing that any extra weight was already risky, let alone let it be the weight of a human body. Then you thought about just putting it off until the morning, but you know that would just lead to a reprimand from Grey. So you did the only option left.

“Hey, Tim?” He finished writing the word he was on before snapping his head up to you. “The dickheads in evidence moved my box onto the highest shelf possible.”

His pen was now tossed to the side, his forearms crossed and leaning against the desk top. “You know there's a great invention called a ladder, right?”

“Really? Should we call the Chief and let him know of your great discovery?” You quickly remarked back, walking up to his desk and placing your palms onto it. “Please, I just want to be done with this already.” Looking up at you with those stupid blue eyes, he broke out into a small smirk, dropping his head before standing up. “Show me where it is,”

You smiled wide at him, “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” 

The two of you walked side by side down the hall. Well, he was an inch behind you. Tim Bradford was always an inch behind you. It caused a feeling of protection mixed with a hint of nervousness. Anytime he was close to you, it was always too close–the kind of close that would cause goosebumps to form and your stomach to start to twist. Your mind blanking and a stupid smile eagerly trying to push its way through. Any normal person that would be this close would earn a side eye and a step away. But this was Tim.

“It’s right there,” 

“I see it, the one in the glitter pen?” He glanced at you as if you were serious, slightly wondering if you were going through another Legally Blonde moment.

“This isn’t the first time they did this. Just the first time there hasn’t been a ladder to my rescue. And yes, the glitter reflects off the lights. That way I’m not wandering around like a chicken with my head cut off.” His eyes drifted to the side, clearly taking your words into thought. Pressing his lips together into a thin line with a shrug of his head.

The clear Tim signal of approval. 

Even if it was considered a bit extra, he had to give you points for the creative. 

It wasn’t like he towered over you. The height difference wasn’t anything crazy. Now, the length of his arms compared to yours–that’s why he was your go-to man.

You watched him stretch up towards the box with his left arm. Groaning a small ‘come on’ before switching to reaching with his right arm, having to go onto the tips of his toes. All the while, a loud, booming string of thunder sounded outside, shaking the old room along with the lights that hung above them. “And I-I-I…” Just as his finger tips brushed the edge of the cardboard, the whole power surged off, followed by the loudest crack of thunder known to man.

You reached outwards and found one of the bars of the shelves. “Tim?” You asked into the darkness, almost expecting him to have just up and disappeared. 

The sound of clothes rustling came first followed by his voice, “I’m right here.” And a bright white, blueish light started to beam towards the ground. He then moved his phone upwards and shined it at you, making sure not to shine it directly into your eyes. 

“Aren’t the generators usually up by now?”

He then waved the light around the room, towards the camera in the corner where the small red light that had always been on was now off. “The weather must’ve also knocked out the backups.” At his words, he quickly went towards the front door. You reached out, grabbing the back of his shirt, using it as a leverage to pull yourself up to his arm, hooking it through yours. “What, afraid the shadow man will get me?” He teased, looking back at your concerned face. “No,” You leaned towards him, “I don’t want to risk the chance of walking into one the shelves.”

“Turn on your light,”

“I left my phone on my desk. I didn’t think it would take this long.”

Leaning back a little when you realized just how close you were to him. Not only was your body pushed up fleshed against his arm and side, but you and Tim’s face were an inch apart. Feeling his breath on you, a breath caught in the back of your throat at the realization. Your heartbeat escalated at the thought of closing the space, finally giving into the thoughts that would keep you up at night. The drunken ones that made you physically throw your phone so far into your closet, not risking the chance of drunkenly confusing everything to him. 

“Here,” Tim handed you the phone. You took it and leaned your back against the nearby desk, checking first as to not knock into anything before you did. Watching as he tried the knob, which turned but didn’t give when trying to pull on it.

The doors locked, loudly hitting its frame. Trying over and over again. It was official; when the power went and the generator wasn’t coming back on that meant the door wasn’t going to budge either. A single slam of Tim’s shoulder against it was all he needed for a quick reminder of the steel plate in the middle of it. 

The light slowly trailing down was what caught his attention, seeing that the light you were tasked to be held still had somehow made its way to his arms–his biceps, if you wanna be specific. Looking up at you to see that you had been spaced out staring at him.

No, not him.

His arms. 

At first, he was confused on why you had such a fixation on him, but the voice that stated the obvious followed with the way you bit your lip, only fulled his ego. Taking a step closer to you, watching as you stepped back, your eyes finally peeling away from his arm. Taking another step backwards when you saw that you had been caught. Opening your mouth to try and come up with an excuse, any excuse, but it didn’t come. Instead, your mouth shut as your body covered in goosebumps and the hair on the back of your neck stood on end. The way he was looking at you had you both wanting to hide away but also drop to your knees and do whatever he said. 

He took another step, nearly making the two of you flush against each other, but you were swift to keep some type of a distance, knowing that if you were that close there wasn’t any telling what you would do. But the next step took you off guard–you had predicted him to do that, the need to dominate and all. But he steps to the side, blocking off the one path you had. 

It wasn’t like you were completely blocked off; if you truly wanted to get away from him, all you needed to do was take a step forward. But the air between you two, the tension, was electrical–more electrical than the actually booming storm outside. 

So here you were, on one side a cluttered metal desk to your right, and to you left was a man that you had plenty of wet dreams about. Turning and looking at him, using one of your hands to brace yourself off the corner of the desk. When the stinging pain of the metal giving you a small cut–nothing to bring blood but enough to break skin–was all you needed to be reminded that you were awake. 

Trapping you between the very arms that had brought you so much pleasure were now holding you into place. Feeling the way his eyes studied you, burning into you, causing a wave after wave of nervousness to crash into you. Taking a shaky breath, feeling a steady finger drag along your chin, forcing you to look into his burning baby blue eyes.

The light from his phone was now pushed to the edge of the desk. Its beam shot straight up towards the ceiling and created a light grey light in the room.

“Do you get off on my arms?” His tone steady but tinged with a kind of quiet authority, causing the fuzziness in your stomach to grow and your core to grow even wetter than it already had been. “Use your words, darling.”

Pressing your lips together, mustering up whatever form of self you still had to answer, “Have you seen your arms?” Tim smirks and chuckles quietly, allowing his body to relax against your stiff one. 

“Do you want me to get you off with my hands?”

It felt like all the wind had been knocked out of you. Had you been struck by lightning and now in heaven? Had you been in a coma and this was just a surreal dream that you’d wake up from? Was this some type of late April Fools Joke? Did you truly care enough though to say no?

Especially when his calloused fingers dragged down from your chin to your neck, feeling them settle on your pulse, smirking a bit wider when he felt it thudding against your chest. Slowly nodding your head repeatedly, with your mouth hung open. “Yeah–I’d like that,”

He kissed you, gripping a hold the side of your neck to keep you in place. One small kiss already had you pooling, feeling like every vein in your body had lava flowing through them. Your head was spinning all from just that one small kiss, a kiss that was fully a tease and a wanting to see you melt under him, which you did.

His hand slithered down from your throat, down your waist and towards your buckle, “You say the word, sweetheart, and I’ll stop.” 

Looking up at him, you reach up and wrap your hands around his neck and pull him into you, moving your body to press against his, trapping his hand between the two of you. The two of you started to devour one another, fighting the urge for air as the want for the other was greater.

Your back was now fully against the wall, feeling the small mess of a force that was Tim’s horniness. Keeping his lips on you as his hands made quick work on unbuckling your belt, tossing to the side, followed by quickly unbuttoning and unzipping your pants. One of his hands trailed up, holding the back of your neck, moving it so his thick bicep pressed against your shoulder. Humming with satisfaction as his big, rough hand cupped your clothed pussy. He let out a low groan against your neck, “Surely this can’t all be just from me, sweetheart, you’re soaked.”

If your body wasn’t buzzing with adrenaline, you would be slightly embarrassed from how wet you already were. He hadn’t even touched you, and yet you knew there was a pool in your panties. “I don’t see anyone else who it would be for?” 

Tim fingers stroked at the wetness, teasing you with the thought of penetrating through the thin fabric. It felt like he was trying to map out every inch of you, like in a moment you’d be gone and all he had left was the memory of the way you felt. Feeling the smile from his mouth on your neck widen when you let out gasp the moment he reached your throbbing clit. 

Your hand instinctively reached for his wrist, rolling forwards as you let out a shaky breath. Well, it was actually more of a breathy moan, but you knew that would only fuel his ego even more. When his hand pressed harder, rubbing tighter circles, with that toothy grin of his was all the answer you needed.

Your nails dragged up his skin, satisfied at the feel of goosebumps and his hair standing upright. This, along with the decent size tent in his pants that was currently poking into your inner thigh, caused you to grow even more wet.

Knowing that this was turning him on just as much as it was you – god, you could just come at the thought of that alone. 

His fingers pulled the thin cotton fabric to the side, allowing his fingers to run through your slick. Dragging the pads of them up and down deliberately slowly before parting you. Inhaling sharply through gritted teeth at the sight. Dropping his head by your ear, “Look at you,” He trailed off, slipping one finger slowly, but settled it deep inside. Letting out a deep groan, “Feel better than I could ever have imagined.”

“So you do get off on the thought of me t–fuck,” Another finger joined. Your head rolled back allowing him full access to your neck, which he took, placing a messy sting of sloppy kiss on any piece he could. 

Your body arched against his hand, fucking his fingers deeper in you. Tim curled them at just the right angle to touch the spongy part. Setting a steady pace of pulling them out, curling them, before deeply shoving them back inside of you. His thumb circled your clit–rougher now, less teasing. His hand that was by your neck dropped down to the hem of your shirt. Feeling his calloused hand push your shirt up, exposing your boobs and the pushup bra you had worn. Feeling his breath hitch when his hand started to knead the skin, ever so softly.

Clearly, this was a mix of not only seeing your fantasies come to life but his as well.

Pressing a deep kiss to his mouth, moving it to the corners, trying not to let any of your moans out, not needing them to bounce off the walls and let the entire station know what was happening. Letting out a semi-loud moan that was quickly cut off by Tim smashing his lips into yours. “Fuck, as much as I would love to hear those noise, sweetheart, you need to keep quiet.”

Swallowing harshly, licking your raw lips, looking up at him, seeing his blown out pupils, “It’s very–shit–hard when you’re making me feel this good.”

He smirked at your praises, “How about this then,” He dropped his head low enough to reach your chest, giving your sternum a kiss, “You keep quiet-” Another one kiss moving closer to your boob. “-and I’ll let you-” Another kiss now where the top of your bra covers your nipple. “-be as loud as you want.”

Your mind was hazy, and your body was right on the edge of coming. You couldn’t answer him even if you wanted to. He noticed, slowing his pace on both your clit and inside of you, just enough to get your attention back. Standing back upright, bringing his hand up to lightly grab your chin to fully look at him, clearly waiting on your answer. Blinking a few times before nodding your head, "Absolutely,"

His grin was right back. “Good girl,” 

Kissing you deeply as he picked the pace back up to where it had been before, swallowing every moan and whimper you had. His hand slowly trailing back to its place on your chest. One of our hands stayed steady on his chest, gripping the fabric and using it as leverage to keep him close. Feeling his heart hammering against your palm, along with the quick rise and fall of his chest. Your other one was dragging your nails from his skin, even in the dim light seeing the faint red marks they left behind, reaching past his rolled up sleeves, all the way to his collar, pulling the fabric to expose the skin under it. 

You were close, feeling a low tightening knot in the bottom of your stomach, chasing after the build up, starting to roll your hips into his hand alongside his movements. 

Trying to stiffen the build-up high-pitch moans, you attached your lips onto his neck. Just as you were tipping over the edge of pure hot bliss, it became too much so you bit into his soft skin. Tim’s groan was the exact thing you needed to send you over that edge, moaning into his neck, white-knuckling his shirt. Clenching tightly around his fingers before your hips started to jerk. His fingers slowly helped you ride out your high, making sure to keep his free hand around your shoulders. 

Coming back to Earth, you fully let your weak body fall back and hit the concrete wall behind you. Waiting for your head to do the same, but it didn’t. Slowly the numb tingling faded, and the soft ringing in your ears cleared you right back to Tim. Smiling blissfully at him, feeling his hands cradle your neck. He let out a breathy laugh, “Thought you passed out on me, honey.”

All you could do was let out a small laugh as well. Pressing a lazy kiss into the crease of his forearm. Looking down and fixing your pants, going to fix your belt but got quickly reminded that he had thrown it. “Did you see where my belt went?”

He glanced around before nodding, “Yup, got it,”

Both of your eyes were pulled up to the ceiling with a loud rumble of thunder.

Using that moment of your distraction to grab your belt, not wanting you to move too much, knowing you were probably still a bit dizzy. “Thanks.” You held out your hand but he shook his head instead reaching down and starting to loop it through the slots. “Tim, I can–” He cut you off with a quick kiss, “I know you can, but let me do something.” You quickly looked at him with raised brows; he had just given you the most intense orgasms you’d had in a while and yet was acting like he hadn’t lifted a single finger. Watching the way each of his veins bulged with each movement of fixing your belt.

And he caught you staring, again, “Really?’

You shrugged, breaking into a wider smile, “What? I’m a simple girl.” 

The sound of the door settling brought back the reminder that the two of you were still locked inside. And that’s when an idea popped into your mind.

You took a step forward. Tim kept a hand around your waist after seeing you sway slightly. Looking over the desk, shining the light at where the tin can full of random shit was. Smiling at the sparkling piece of metal, grabbing it and quickly showing it to Tim, “You still have your pocket knife?”

He slowly pulled it out of his pocket, waiting for you to reach for it before pulling it back. “You knew you could pick the lock and yet still let me slam myself up against the door?”

You shrugged, “It was kinda funny to see you try to break down a reinforced steel door.” You replied before reaching up and kissing him before taking the knife from his hand, “But basically yeah!” 

Turning on your heel and quickly crouching down. Handing off the flashlight to Tim, taking the thinnest part of the letter opener and shoving it into the keyhole. Using the tip of the knife to try and set the pins in the lock, but the blade was too big. Closing it and handing it back to Tim before finding a paperclip off the desk and unfolding it. “Where did you learn this?”

You shoved the unfolded paperclip in, replying to him while you tried to set the three lock pins into place. “I used to break into my parent’s liquor cabinet…and the city pool…and the highschool.” When they all were into place, you pulled the thing metal out and gave the letter opener a turn, unlocking the door. Turning and facing him, “I didn’t steal anything, besides the liquor, I just wanted to see what they looked like at night.” 

He slowly walked up to you, placing his hands on either side of your face, shaking his head, “How are you still full of surprises?” He reached down and kissed you, this time with passion and care, not the hunger and need like before. “Why don’t we finish the page we do and then go back to my place?”

You looked up at him as you felt your face flush, knowing that he actually wanted to see you again made you feel all warm and fuzzy. “Yeah, yeah that sounds like a plan.” 

Tim watched you turn around and slowly started to leave the room. His eyes looking over your body before his brows quickly frowned. The bottom of your shirt was still completely messed up. It wasn’t tucked in, and sat a bit askew on your body. With wide eyes he quickly chased after you. “Fix your shirt.”

[leonkennedysprostate]

tim bradford is dean winchester in a different timeline. the looks, the charm, the trauma

[midwestresonance]

This look was nasty, i just know they gossip like crazy

[descrevos]

Virei o vilão só por ter sido sincero sobre o que eu sentia.

Lucas Martins.

[noriette]

ᢉ𐭩 fem!reader, falling asleep with megumi’s demon dogs

it’s already well known that megumi’s demon dogs love you, and it’s after a long mission. the demon dogs have worn themselves out, and so have you. normally, megumi doesn’t let the dogs retreat into the shadows immediately. he knows they love to cuddle up to you and play with you a bit before they’re unfortunately forced to leave.

but one thing he never would’ve expected to walk in on is his demon dogs lying on your bed with you, all of you breathing slowly as your arm is slung across the black demon dog’s fur.

megumi’s eyes widen in shock, but not long after, they soften, and his lips curl into a subtle smile. but he’s tired from keeping his demon dogs out of the shadows for so long. he lets out an exhausted sigh and walks closer to your bed, staring down at his demon dogs cuddled up to you like they own the place, as if he wasn’t supposed to be the one in their position.

the white demon dog’s eyes open, though sleepily. it rests its snout on your stomach and lets out a small huff when megumi’s eyes it for so long. not long after, however, it’s back to sleeping again.

his fists ball up in frustration. he never thought he’d be jealous of the demon dogs, but here he is, staring at them in your arms like they owe him something. it should be him in your bed, warm from your body flushed against his.

he should be leaving. he’s tired from keeping the demon dogs out for hours on end, and he should probably take a nap in his room or work on something to distract himself. for some reason, he can’t bear to leave you like this.

but that’s stripped from his mind when he hears a voice.

“hey, fushiguro-“ yuji calls out, stomping into your room loudly.

megumi’s eyes widen. damn, he must look creepy staring at you sleeping like this. he’s cursing at himself internally, wishing he had left so he wouldn’t be found in this compromising position.

“oh, is she sleeping?” yuji asks with a big smile, and stands right next to megumi but has no control over his volume.

megumi slaps a hand over yuji’s mouth, then scolds, “quiet. you’ll wake her.”

“you wanna kiss her goodnight?” yuji teases, prying his hand from his mouth.

megumi quietly groans and complains, “you’ve been hanging out with gojo too much,” he ignores the question, then mumbles, “go away.”

yuji laughs then elbows megumi, and waves as he walks out, “talk to me when you’re done!”

megumi doesn’t hear or pay attention to his words, instead continuing to gaze at you with soft eyes.

he hopes eventually you’ll learn how much he and his demon dogs love you with their hearts. he’s willing to exhaust himself day in and day out, bringing his demon dogs out of the shadows just to see you smile for another second.

hii hope you guys like this! pt1 is here

[i-hate-edward-cullen-3000]

Adrian Chase: "I bet there's another me in there somewhere. Don't you think?"

Reader with barely contained lust in their voice: "God, I hope so."

[fru1t4fr0gs]

A Totally Normal Crush

Pairing: Adrian Chase/Vigilante x Reader

Summary: Adrian Chase has a crush. Everyone knows. Well, everyone but you, the object of his affection, who seems completely oblivious to it all. When the rest of the 11th Street Kids finally reach the end of their respective ropes, they decide to step in.

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI: Swearing, Mentions of sex, Adrian is kind of a creep, Okay a little more than kind of but we love it, Adrian is head-over-heels obsessed (and so so awkward about it), The team is exhausted with it, Chris is really bad at advice, Mentions of semi-public sex, Please let me know if I forgot anything!

Author’s Note: Thank you to the lovely anon who requested this! This dorky killing machine is so fun to write. As always, please let me know what you think!

-

“Holy shit.” Chris says, watching as you dodge one blow and land another with terrifying precision. A butterfly's head is blown clean off in a single shot, and you seamlessly dodge another attack to slam the blade of your knife into the eye of your next attacker.

“Holy shit.” Adrian echoes, but there’s a breathless, dreamy quality to his voice that makes Chris raise his eyebrows.

“Dude, I know she’s hot, but this is turning you on?”

“What? No! I mean, of course not. She’s just…” he trails off as you grab one enemy’s arm, spinning into the man’s chest and firing his gun from his own hand into the forehead of the man across from you. You spin out, and finish off the first guy with a swift kick to the chest.

“Holy shit.” Adrian says again, even more breathless than before, and he’s fucking smiling now.

“Oh God, I think his eyes just turned into cartoon hearts.” Adebayo nearly groans. This time, Adrian doesn’t answer.

And just like that, the entire team watches Adrian Chase fall in love. 

And just like that, it becomes everyone else’s fucking problem.

-

He sits as close to you as possible in every briefing. He laughs way too hard at your jokes, and even at some of your comments that aren’t meant to be funny. He stares at you with his ‘cartoon heart eyes’ every time you enter the room, and looks like a sad puppy every time you leave it.

It gets annoying fast. And you’re the only one who doesn’t seem to notice.

You don’t get irritated with him, like everyone else does. For a while, each and every member of the team wonders what your breaking point is going to be. If one day you’ll snap when he rambles to you about anything and everything under the sun, and he’ll end up with a bullet between his eyes before he can finish telling you a new random fact about owls.

And yet, you don’t break. In fact, you don’t even seem like you’re humoring him. You listen when he talks like you’re actually interested in what he has to say. Laugh with him when no one else does. You smile when he enters the room, and you even have inside jokes with him that make him laugh like an absolute lunatic.

And yet, despite how painfully obvious it is to everyone else, you still don’t seem to notice his crush.

-

Chris hits his breaking point when he borrows Adrian’s phone, trying to look up directions to the new meeting spot after his own gets smashed in a fight.

“Okay, dude. We gotta talk about this shit.”

“What?” Adrian looks genuinely confused, turning to him with a completely innocent expression.

“First of all, your phone passcode is her birthday.”

Adrian is immediately on the defensive, pink tinging his cheeks as he grips the steering wheel and looks directly out the front window.

“I-what? No, it’s not! It’s a random combination of numbers. If it’s her birthday that’s a total coincidence. Who even is the she in question, anyway? Like I said, I have no idea what mysterious birthday you’re talking about.”

“Your screensaver is her face.”

“My screensaver is a picture of the whole team, because we’re all friends! If my phone maybe zoomed in on a particular person’s face, I have no control over that! I’m a crime fighter, not a master of technology.”

Chris does not let up, and Adrian looks like he’d be less tortured if his pinky toe was cut off again.

“Okay, then why did you Google her name like, twenty times?”

“For research. She’s part of the team! Who says I don’t Google all of you, in case someone - other than you, of course. You’re my best friend and so I know you’re not - is compromised somehow?”

“Dude, just admit you’ve got it bad.”

“I don’t have anything bad!”

“It’s fine, man. She’s like, a solid ten. If you want some advice, bro to bro, I can give it to you.”

Chris is Adrian’s best friend - well, outside of you now, of course - and he does hook up with lots of people.

So, against anyone’s better judgement, Adrian takes his first bit of seduction advice.

-

The briefing the next day is weird.

Very weird.

When Adrian sits down, he doesn’t sit next to you. In fact, he sits across from you, eyes boring into the side of your head when you aren’t looking and darting away immediately when you seem to feel the weight of his gaze on you. When the meeting breaks, and everyone begins to grab their various weapons and get their shit together to load up the van, he sidles up to you in a way that’s so purposefully casual it draws the attention of the rest of the team.

He leans against the counter on one elbow, looking at you through his glasses from the side.

“Sup.” And that word does not sound right coming from Adrian Chase. It especially sounds off with how much deeper he seems to be trying to make his voice.

Your brows furrow, and you continue to load your gun as you glance over at him. “Sup.” You mimic, just as purposefully low, and offer him a familiar little smile.

That seems to disarm him, just a little. Just enough to make him seem impossibly more awkward as he collects himself and continues. 

“I was uh…I was just thinking about how I went out last night. There was a girl with an awesome ass at the bar. Totally top-tier. She was super hot.”

Your confusion is palpable. Some of the team cringes behind your back. Neither you nor Adrian notice. “…Okay.”

“I mean, you could be hot too. If you did your…hair different.”

“Thank you?”

“I mean, not that your hair isn’t great. And your shampoo smells nice. Not that I’ve like, smelled it or anything. It’s- you wear a lot of shampoo.”

“I wear a lot of shampoo?” You repeat, finally cocking your head to the side and looking him fully up and down, taking in everything from his stance to the odd way he’s trying to speak to you. “Are you okay? Did you drink weird milk again?”

“Huh? No! I just…you know, I was just saying you… smell, you know?” he trails off, looking a little lost, and you nod slowly like you think he might be on drugs.

“Okay, thanks… I’m gonna start loading up the van.” You offer him an awkward smile, pick up a gun, and make your way out the door.

He deflates so much, so quickly, that he looks like a popped balloon.

“Dude.” Chris says, sympathy and horror coating his tone. “What the fuck was that?”

“You said to neg her!”

“First of all, if you took Smith’s advice this whole situation is gonna get ten fucking times more annoying.” Harcourt snaps, rolling her eyes and holstering her own gun. “Second of all, who the fuck thinks negging works?”

“Hey, I’ve hooked up with a shit ton of people. If you do it right and not like whatever the fuck that was-“ Chris starts, only for Harcourt to hold up her hand and cut off the end of his sentence.

“She’s not some dumbass at the dive bar, you fucking frat boy.”

Adrian doesn’t seem to be very invested in the argument that follows. He looks two seconds away from bursting out the door and trying the ‘negging’ thing again, like he might be able to get it right with practice. Peacemaker himself gave him the advice, after all. It should work if he just does it right, right?

“Just be yourself.” Adebayo chimes in, a softer voice cutting against the sharp tones in the room. “She seems to like you plenty as yourself. Not…whatever that was.”

“It was negging. It’s when you insult someone to make them-“

“I know what negging is.” She stops him with a helpless shake of her head. “I mean don’t do that.”

He frowns. Looks toward the door again like his eyes might be able to find you through it. “What should I do instead?”

“Be yourself.” She repeats, emphatic. “If she likes you, she’s gonna like you a lot less if you keep insulting her. Or…trying to. I couldn’t really follow what you were doing there.”

And so, now with better judgement, Adrian takes his second bit of seduction advice.

-

You fall asleep on him in the van. It happens slowly, beginning with your eyes drifting shut to the rocking and bumping of the vehicle and ending with your head thunking onto his shoulder.

He freezes. Completely, totally freezes. He tries to catch the attention of the rest of the team, but they’re all too distracted either drifting off themselves or taking stock of their own wounds.

And then, slowly, like you might vanish if he jostles you too much, he leans his body back against the wall. You go with him, still peacefully asleep with your bloody cheek resting against his shoulder and your body so, so close to his.

Okay, step two.

Though patience has never really been his forte, he manages to move his arm with the slow precision that only stems from the years of training and practice that made him such a skilled killer. In what feels like an eternity, that arm is finally wrapped around you, and he positions you to lie more comfortably against his side, pulling your body closer to his and trying not to vibrate from the feeling of your warmth seeping into his skin.

You don’t wake. You mumble something in your sleep, your own mask off and resting beside you, and turn your head into him with a sigh.

You’re so warm. Still covered in blood and dirt and grime but still so, so unbelievably pretty. Actually, you’re always prettier than usual after a fight. Exhausted and full of adrenaline just like how he gets. Your smile is always brighter. Your eyes hold the same excitement as his own. Shit, he almost wants to wake you up just so he can look at your eyes, though he wouldn’t dream of risking losing this moment.

His hand comes up, and his fingers glide through your hair like he’s mesmerized by the feeling of it - which he is. You hum in response to the feeling, still sleeping as your body melts a little bit more into his, and he feels like every nerve inside of him is on fire.

And then, like a bit of a creep, he turns his head into your hair and inhales. You smell so nice. Like sweetness and spice and blood and dirt. He wants to touch you all over. He wants to pull you all the way into his lap and wake you up by kissing you. Like, everywhere. He wants to study you in more ways than just all of the endless staring he’s been doing over the last few weeks. Like the way you might feel against him, with more than just your head and side pressed against his body. Or the noises you might make when he-

A throat clears.

When Adrian looks up, everyone is looking at him.

“Are you…sniffing her?” Leota asks, nose scrunched up in an expression he doesn’t understand. Whatever. He doesn’t understand a lot of expressions. But he understands yours. And when he doesn’t, you usually explain it to him. It’s one of the many, many things he likes about you.

“Do you have a boner right now?” Chris asks, and that expression might be disgust, though he doesn’t really understand why. Chris has seen you, right? You’re probably the hottest person Adrian’s ever seen. How is he not supposed to get a boner when you’re pressed up against him and he can feel your soft breath against his neck? And now you’re moving, snuggling a little more into his side, and he couldn’t help his grin if he wanted to as he turns to press his nose into your hair again.

“Fucking weirdo.” Harcourt mumbles, and Adrian couldn’t care less.

-

He decides to - finally - ask you out. He comes up with at least ten different plans, and keeps asking for advice about every single detail until the rest of the team is minutes away from punching him if he says another word about it.

And, in the end, he doesn’t follow a single one of those carefully detailed plans. He doesn’t even come close.

This battle was rough. Chaotic and violent and seeming to last for hours until everyone is drenched in blood and covered in bruises and limping their way back to each other to regroup.

You just blew a group of butterflies up with a grenade. You didn’t move back far enough to keep the blood and guts off of you. In fact, you’re still wiping it from your face, grinning like a fucking maniac as you pull your nearly-ruined mask from your face and take in the scene before you.

Adrian is already making his way towards you like a man hypnotized. His own mask is off. His hair is damp with sweat. His face is almost as bloody as yours.

“Holy shit! Did you see that?” You ask, eyes wild as you turn to him. “That was awesome! I mean, I didn’t expect that to-“

He grabs you. One bloody hand fists in your hair, the other wraps around your waist, and he yanks you into him and kisses you so hard the force of it would knock you backward if he weren’t crushing you to him so tightly.

The 11th Street Kids watch, awed. You make a muffled noise of surprise, eyes going wide as his mouth moves against yours.

And then you wrap your arms around his neck, and you kiss him right back.

For a while, no one speaks. Your hands tangle in Adrian’s hair, and his other hand drops to join the first around your waist. He lifts you off of your feet. You wrap your legs around his waist. He groans shamelessly, and presses you up against the nearest tree so hard it almost looks like it hurts. You don’t seem to notice, stabilizing yourself with one hand gripping at his back while you pull at his hair and draw a noise from him that echoes through the forest.

“This is getting gross.” Economos says, and cringes as Adrian’s hands start to rip at your tactical gear.

“They are covered in blood.”

“Does anyone wanna stop them before they fuck in the middle of the woods?”

“I’m not going anywhere near that.”

Armor is beginning to come off, crashing to the ground as cloth rips and Adrian starts to mumble incoherent - and probably wildly inappropriate - nonsense into your mouth and against your skin, kissing and biting his way down your throat.

“Okay, you know what? They can figure out how to get home. My eyes are starting to burn.”

Hours later, you do find your way home, breathless and grinning and covered in new marks from a very different type of battle.

They thought Adrian’s crush was annoying before. Now that he has you, he is so much worse.

[upper-ranking]

If you reblog this, it means your back is hurting

[flow33didontsmoke]

when y/n does something so bad/embarrassing you have to facepalm and close your eyes for a minute

[roleplayfinder]

Heyo!! 18+, female roleplayer here!! I was wondering if anyone would want to roleplay with me? I have been looking forward to roleplay Stardew Valley, Puss in Boots: The Last Wish, or Tropa de Elite/Elite Squad (Yes, I do mean the brazilian movie).

The characters I am looking for are:

— Harvey (Stardew Valley)

— Death (Puss in Boots)

— Captain/Capitão Nascimento (Tropa de Elite/ Elite Squad)

I would prefer a OC x CC for my side, but I can double-up and do OCxCC or CC x CC for your side! I do not do OC x OC!!!

.

[roleplayfinder]

Heyo!! 18+, female roleplayer here!! I was wondering if anyone would want to roleplay with me? I have been looking forward to roleplay Stardew Valley, Puss in Boots: The Last Wish, or Tropa de Elite/Elite Squad (Yes, I do mean the brazilian movie).

The characters I am looking for are:

— Harvey (Stardew Valley)

— Death (Puss in Boots)

— Captain/Capitão Nascimento (Tropa de Elite/ Elite Squad)

I would prefer a OC x CC for my side, but I can double-up and do OCxCC or CC x CC for your side! I do not do OC x OC!!!

.

[a-motherfcking-fish]

Man's ready to risk it all

[deardemonw]

A risada dele🥺🤏🏻

[kurogxrix]

me when the READER in the X READER has a name:

like babe the fic ate but i do NOT look like an Aurora🙁