[dadsbongos]

then, and again, and once more

6.9k words

Summary - Yuuji tries to impress you and win your heart, with the help of Sukuna… who seems weirdly knowledgeable about and interested in you.

Warnings - p in v sex, FULL NELSON BABY!!!, yuuji eats pussy :), oh yeah fem reader btw, sukuna is here too (and his cannibalism is mentioned), idiot friends pining for each other, very vague timeline idk but yuuji is aged up

sukuna-centric part 2

There it is again.

Ba-dump. Ba-dump.

That unbearable thick bass in his chest, banging so tirelessly against his ribs that it threatens to make him nauseous. A quick inhale and yep - scratch that - he’s definitely already nauseous.

Yuuji sinks his sweaty palms deeper into his pants pockets, eyes darting sharply down to his beaten sneakers. The once vibrant ruby shade is now marred by dirt and aging threads - and if he turns his right foot just so, then he can see an old, blackened stain from pizza sauce he spilled while eating out with you. The memory, or more specifically how you’re giggling in his memory, makes him smile.

And in the real world, Megumi is watching his friend grin ear to ear while looking at a black, crusty splotch on the inside curve of his right shoe. After having just wide-eyed stared at you from across the room while you and Nobara heatedly debate where to go for dinner.

He glares at Yuuji, lashes narrowing, “You look insane. Knock it off.”

That snaps the boy from his reminiscing, and it takes him three long seconds before he registers the insult, “I was thinking!”

“Obviously,” Megumi scratches the side of his nose, more to just have something to do with his hands than anything else, “What were you thinking about?”

Humming quietly to himself, Yuuji shrugs, “Oh, the usual.”

“You’re hopeless,” Megumi maintains his efforts to keep his hands busy by scratching the back of his head, “Just tell her already. What’s the worst that happens?”

“She rejects me and avoids me,” Yuuji pouts, “Honestly, ‘gumi, I would’ve thought you’d be more sympathetic - being a standoffish and awkward guy yourself.”

Swatting at his friend’s shoulder, Megumi shakes his head, “The hell is wrong with you? Was that just sitting in your mind?” he shakes his head again, glare growing stronger, “And don’t call me that.”

“I thought you had anxiety or something,” Yuuji shrugs, “Why else would you be so weird in public?”

Any previous concern regarding Yuuji’s well-being immediately flies from Megumi at that. He folds his arms across his chest with murmurs of hatred floating out from his lips. All as he waltzes over to where you and Nobara are seated around your laptop at the chipping hardwood table.

Yuuji has no problem shrugging off Megumi's irritation, but when it comes to the mere idea of your face stretching in disgust at him - God, isn’t that the worst?

“You’re the worst, brat,” comes that rumbling, terrible voice in the back of his head. The nagging used to sound more like him - and when he’s really stressed, it still sometimes does - but now his own voice has faded into the King of Curses’. Now his own voice is sweeter, more prone to praise and positives - in a weird way, Sukuna has made Yuuji better.

But in a lot more ways -

“Oi, don’t ignore me.”

He’s made Yuuji’s life so much worse.

“You like that one, right? I can help.”

You’re sitting back, allowing Megumi to take the reins on shooting down Nobara’s suggestion for sushi. Normally, that demand isn’t a problem, but this would be the fifth night in a row she’s tried roping you all into ordering sushi for her. You lean into Megumi a little, and Yuuji hates the way his chest tightens at the display.

It isn’t even affection. It’s just…

“You want to be the one she’s on, right?”

Yuuji sighs to himself and sneaks out of the kitchen, though it’s hardly a challenge when Nobara raises her voice to defend her long-lasting cravings.

With tense shoulders and a red face, Yuuji glances down each side of the hall to ensure nobody is nearby, “How could you help with this?”

Sukuna’s eye on Yuuji’s cheek has flitted up to stare into Yuuji’s, and that sickly crawl of his skin stretching to accommodate Sukuna’s wide grin makes his stomach turn, “You’re just a child, you don’t know anything about women.”

Yuuji could double over, hands on his knees and breathless in sputters of laughter, but he refrains - unwilling to let anyone hear his schizophrenic ramblings, “And you do?”

Sukuna’s eye rolls and Yuuji hates the way it feels under his cheekbone, nearly retching in response, “Of course.”

And that strings up some different terrible question in Yuuji, “But why would you help me?”

Sukuna has been so unwilling to do anything useful for Yuuji despite the fact he’s allowed to reside in this body - so what could possibly possess him to do this now?

“Do you want my help or not, worm?”

Yuuji sighs through his nose, eyes fluttering shut, thinking hard about the offer. He’d come to the conclusion not too long after swallowing his first finger to simply not question many of Sukuna’s motives, mostly since his goals are: chaos, women, and chaos.

“This better not be some gross pass at my friend,” Yuuji sneers, body electrified on the ready to smack down his own cheek should he hear an answer he doesn’t like.

Sukuna is too quiet for too long, and Yuuji is fully prepared to swipe at the parasite on his face when finally, that deep voice rattles again. It buzzes in his flesh, uncomfortable and itchy and so quiet he barely hears what the curse mumbles into him.

The boy pauses and lets the words melt on his tongue, he turns them between his molars and laves the roof of his mouth with the remaining implications. He wasn’t expecting Sukuna to be honest, not to that degree at least.

And Yuuji smacks Sukuna’s bulbous eye down anyway.

“Fine then,” Yuuji pulls his hand down and curls his fingers into a fist, another great big awful ragged sigh roughing over his tongue like barbed wire, “I’ll listen to you, but if you ruin this for me- “

“Calm down, brat,” the mouth pops back up stubbornly, bitterly spitting out his version of a promise, “I don’t plan on failing.”

Yuuji pushes himself off the wall and spins back into the kitchen unnoticed, hands locking behind his head as he saddles up beside you at the table, “So, what’s for dinner?”

He snorts at how you groan, looking up at him from your seat with tired, low-lidded eyes and gesturing across the table to where Megumi and Nobara are still arguing, “You tell me.”

“Why don’t we just go out?” Yuuji shrugs, grinning broadly despite the way his two friends both twitch their necks over to glare at him, “Come on, it’s not even dark! We can walk around and do a little looking; get some air!”

Nobara’s pitched shoulders drop, pinched expression falling into her usual lax, she looks over at Megumi again with a raised brow. Megumi shrugs, his own eyebrows still scrunched together, “If it’s fine with you two, I don’t care.”

You snicker, standing up against the stiff wood supports of the chair legs, one elbow digging into the table to further help hold you up while your spare fingers dance up to smooth out the crinkled space, “I think it’ll be fun.”

Megumi snatches you by the wrist and tosses your hand to the side while Nobara hops down from her own chair, stretching out her back until it pops obnoxiously. She’s already bouncing out of the kitchen to snag her shoes before shouting back, “Well, come on! We’re on a timer now, people!”

“Jeez,” you slip off the chair pegs, bumping slightly into Yuuji’s side - entirely oblivious to the sparkly fireworks you sweep across your poor friend’s body at the contact, “Should’ve just suggested that from the start, huh?”

Shrugging, Yuuji waits for you to begin walking out of the kitchen before following, “Sometimes you just need fresh eyes on a situation, you know?”

“I guess,” you fold your arms, evidently frustrated, “Just feel like that was something I should’ve seen.”

Yuuji feels that disgusting, familiar thumping in his chest just by looking at you now. Heat radiating from his cheeks to the expanse of his chest, throat swelling with the uncomfortable need to spill his guts - dump every little thought and feeling he’s ever had for you into your ears until you force him to shut up. Like how he can’t even look at Jennifer Lawrence the way he used to simply because she isn’t you.

Maybe then he’d tell you that this hasn’t happened in the six years since he first saw Silver Linings Playbook. Maybe you’d tell him to stop talking, and that you two would never happen.

Maybe then he can move on, when you crush his hope. But he doesn’t really want that.

And he doesn’t really know why he agreed to let Sukuna lend him any advice.

Oh well.

It’s when you’re rushing out the door to keep up with Megumi and Nobara that Sukuna opens his mouth for the first time.

His voice stabs into Yuuji’s ears, but it isn’t exceptionally as cruel as he usually finds it, this, instead, is purely instructional, “When you two are out tonight, tell her about that cat you saw around the garden today.”

Yuuji scratches through his messily filed memories, “I saw a cat?”

“Yes, twit, a black one. Tell her about how its fur changed color in the sun.”

“Okay…?” Yuuji huffs in his daze, finally putting effort into walking alongside you and the others, “Hey! So, I just remembered something.”

“Oh yeah?” you smile at Yuuji, purely encouraging, and he’s disgusted at the way he almost trips over his own feet.

Nobara and Megumi pay the both of you little mind, instead pointing out different potential favorite hotspots they could creep into for the night. Well, Nobara points out, they could even stop at two places if they’re feeling adventurous. And Megumi says they can do whatever the rest of you think is best.

But Yuuji isn’t listening, and you’re hardly lending an ear, he swallows down the rock in his throat and nods, “I saw a cat this morning - a black one! - and it made me think of you,” the gentle warmth spreading through him could either be the way you’re lighting up at him, or Sukuna silently congratulating his good line, “Its fur was all brownish red in the sun, it was…” your eyes are so starry and sweet, solely on him - it makes his tongue tie up in knots, “It was beautiful.”

“Bummer I wasn’t there, then,” you pout a little, “You need to get me for things like that!” he laughs at the way your face has morphed, all stern and strict business, “Seriously!”

“Okay, okay,” he surrenders, both hands up in playful defense, “I promise to call you if I see another cat.”

“Could’ve at least taken a picture for me,” you histrionically sigh, “And I thought we were friends.”

A sudden thought invades the back of Yuuji’s mind. Some hidden, more primal part of his mind that he doesn’t usually listen to flashes back to a time he doesn’t remember.

We used to be more.

You and him are sitting out in the sun with a fluffy little Bombay cat tucked into your lap. It paws at the buttery dandelions that bloom between you both, his own legs are sprawled out impolitely and your own are crossed to wall around the feline in your hold. His knee knocks against yours whenever he shifts his leg. You lean in, shoulder digging into the meat of his muscled arm and temple resting on his shoulder.

Your body is entirely at ease. His is, too.

Yuuji knows exactly where the thought comes from. And if that dark, creepy place weren’t so infested by evil then maybe he’d feel a little pity for it. But you’re in front of him now, and you’re excited to be here, and your pinky keeps knocking into his as you two walk side-by-side - so there’s no room for pity in his heart.

Your quartet winds up squished into a teal leather booth towards a back corner of Nobara’s selected diner. You and Nobara sit on the interior seats, pressed into the windows, with Yuuji and Megumi caging the both of you in. Megumi having shoved Yuuji down next to you before the boy could even see who was where.

“What were you thinking?” Nobara sits up, jabbing your arm with a manicured finger just to annoy you.

Flicking at her hand, you shrug, focusing on the boards plastered behind the front bar counter for any eye-catching special offers.

Yuuji can feel the tightening of his cheek skin as the eyeball threatens to pop out, it stings when his cheek is forced to split for Sukuna’s eye. His cheek below that parts as well for his lips.

And Sukuna is kind enough this once to be quiet, “Tell her to get the wildfowl bowl,” as if sensing his arising questions, Sukuna continues, “And tell the kitchen worms to make sure the vegetables are soft. Not well, not sturdy,” he sounds disgusted as he says it, “Soft.”

“Hey,” and against everything he’s been told by Gojo, Yuuji puts his entire trust into the curse inside him, “that wildfowl bowl looks good, right?”

You lean closer to Yuuji, arm brushing his as you try to see where he spotted that, “What’s in it? Duck?”

He gives a conformational hum even though he has no idea, “Probably good with soft vegetables.”

Megumi shakes his head, “What does that even mean?”

“When they steam the veggies for longer than usual,” you pat Yuuji’s shoulder while defending him, “I get what you mean, Itadori. Sorry Fushiguro is so judgemental.”

“I was just saying…” Megumi’s voice flutters out of Yuuji’s focus.

Instead, another memory he never made begins to flourish from that black, mushy, rotted back of his brain.

You’re sat in his lap, large thighs perfectly bracketing around your own. A neglected bowl of slim slivers of perfectly browned duck meat sits atop cooling rice, carrots, and green beans. No doubt soft and easy to chew. In your hands is a steaming bowl, larger than the one in your lap, weighed down by thick cuts of juicy meat slabs. Almost like steak, but there’s no outer hide tanned by flame. It’s red, almost raw, and even after trimming the fat - it’s still bathed in pink, fleshy trails.

Grinning so lovingly, you pinch the slabs with your bare fingers and merely giggle when Sukuna’s sharp teeth prick at your skin. His long tongue works to clean your fingers of the excess meat juices as he eats. Two of his hands are on your hips, holding you steady, a third is steadied beside him against the cold bone of his throne, and a fourth resides at the back of your head. Almost big enough to palm the whole of your skull like a children’s ball - he pats and pets and smooths his fingers over the slope of the back of your neck.

Preening under gentle attention, you’re sure to empty Sukuna’s bowl before picking your own back up.

People watch with blood at their feet, none dare to move. Fearful to become the next hot meal in your hand should they disobey Sukuna’s silent command.

As your hands wrap around your cold bowl, a deep grunt reverberates behind you in Sukuna’s broad chest. He tugs the dish from your grasp; plucks the duck meat between his forefinger and thumb and holds it above your nose, forcing you to look up.

He waves it in front of your face, “Open,” and you follow his order, lips parting yet still pitched up in the impression of a pleased smile. And when he flattens the meat to your tongue and you begin chewing - you’re still smiling. That earns another fond stroke down the back of your head, pausing at your shoulder and digging his thumb into the muscle just to hear you sigh, “Good girl.”

Yuuji doesn’t see all of that. He can grasp some vague sense that you two have shared meals he’ll never get to taste, but he never sees the gristle left behind on your fingers or the saliva webbed between your fingers after feeding Sukuna.

That - Sukuna ‘hmph's proudly as he watches you beam at Yuuji over your modern interpretation of your favorite meal - the King of Curses keeps to himself. Selfishly, just as he always has.

That next morning, you sheepishly prattle into the dusty, creaky classroom with only four rusty, barely used desks and slip into the one by Yuuji. You’re toying with the tips of your hair, eyes bouncing from where Yuuji sits on the desktop beside you and the classroom door.

Nobara sits backward at the desk directly in front of you, arms coiled around the back support of her chair as she speaks and Megumi sits normally beside her - attention solely on his book. Yuuji watches you fiddle with the ends of your hair while pretending to listen to Nobara.

And then he sees it. The new cherry shade decorating your lips, and before Sukuna can sprout and tell him to - Yuuji’s leaning down with his best smile, “New lipstick?”

Jumping at the sudden voice, your rigid posture melts under the boy’s gaze, “Yes, actually. You like?”

It could be puke green and Yuuji would still want it smeared across his face from your kisses.

But despite housing Sukuna Ryomen and battling dreadful curses, Yuuji fails to muster the courage to say that to your face, “Yeah! It’s really pretty.”

Ba-dump. Ba-dump.

There goes your annoying heart, hammering just from the sound of Yuuji’s overtly positive lilt. It makes your cheeks burn and fingers skittishly tip-tap against the pencil-scratched desk, “You think so?”

But he’d never lie, you know that.

So even though it shouldn’t be a surprise when he doubles down, your annoying heart won’t stop dramatically tossing itself around when Yuuji nods with a determined, boyish grin, “Definitely.”

It’s all so saccharine and perfect, it makes Sukuna nauseous. Which, in turn, makes Yuuji nauseous.

Face paling, Yuuji jumps onto his feet and excuses himself, rushing out of the room (with no Gojo even in sight, by the way) towards the bathroom.

“Is he okay?” Nobara murmurs, stretching her neck to see outside the door frame, “What a weirdo.”

“Yeah,” you sigh dreamily, “He is sometimes, huh?”

Megumi gags at your tone, “Seriously…?”

“What was that?” Yuuji’s question is spikey and venomous while he stares into the cracked, water-spotted mirror - straight at the little eyeball on his cheek.

“You two are disgusting,” Sukuna stares back into the glass, low-lidded and unimpressed, “Get this over with and ask her out, brat.”

“But what if she says no?” Yuuji reaches up and toys with the little pink hairs at the back of his head, eyes suddenly unable to meet Sukuna at all, “It’ll totally ruin everything.”

“Enough whining. She won’t say no.”

He doesn’t know how it took so long to recognize, or maybe he just needed an excuse to display his old, unbroken knowledge of you before your fleshly little weakling friends even knew it. But he’s seen the little bursts of color and stars and sparkles and all that cute mess before.

He’s seen it many times. It was the only way you used to look at Sukuna.

That puppyish, lovesick wonder as you fluttered your pretty eyelashes at him.

Even when he would return to you in blood and sweat and muck and smelling of the death and despair he expertly wrought.

You were always at least five paces ahead of Uraume, hands bunching up in the pretty flowing silks that decorated your body. Excitedly, you’d pounce and he would hold you. Sapping up your energy and feeding off the way you’d press cherry-tasting kisses all along his hardened face. You served yourself up to him on a silver platter, all your heart and soul and mind devoted entirely and without ulterior motives. That’s why you were always his favorite.

Nothing before or after you was ever up to par. And he felt disgruntled at every turn into different worshippers and concubines and lovers - somehow wronged simply by the fact they were not as you were. It was all so disappointing.

And every now and again he’d flash back to you while with others. He imagines it’s how children feel when they remember a lost or broken or tossed-out favorite toy. That ache of times lost and never feeling quite fulfilled again.

Which is why when he saw you again through this brat’s eyes, he could instantly remember those nights with you. Full-bellied and raw-lipped and your pulse between his teeth.

But Yuuji knows nothing of that, and so when he returns to the classroom - neither of you says anything.

It’s only the two of you. Everyone else was cast out in the violent, unwilling acceptance that they had done all they could. With no open wound, there was a horrific list rattled off in Sukuna’s ears. Illnesses and infections that attacked the lungs and nervous system and skin and heart - things that would eat you alive from the inside. And when all could be done about that, you remained in bed.

In and out of consciousness and delusional, proclaiming twisted lights and shadowy creatures trying to rip you from yourself.

Perhaps, one of the women called to care for you shyly spoke up, perhaps she’s just too old.

And that was something he avoided admitting to himself.

But it was time now.

With dew still moist on the blades of grass and morning sunlight streaming through the window beside your bed - the bell tolls. Your fingers are stiff in the sheets, limbs cold and stiff when you’re found. Wide, puppylike eyes gaze up at the ceiling and Sukuna has you buried beneath the tallest, most twisted tree he could find in the surrounding forest. And when Sukuna returns from your grave that night - alone - he crosses into a dark tunnel.

It’s cold and solid beneath his feet, paces echoing back for his ears. He keeps his eyes down to avoid maddening himself over the plainness - the displeasure of even glimpsing this tunnel’s repetitive nature.

Until there’s light, golden, with the shrouded, clumsy shape of twisted branches and lanky trunks coming into view at the far open end.

And faintly, like the sweet singing of a beloved music box, he hears the tune of your voice. A high scoop towards the end.

“Itadori, right?”

Sukuna’s feet move faster before he even fully knows he’s moving.

On the other side is you, a hand jammed out in front of you in a polite wave - as if the both of you are strangers. Then that name creeps back up his spine.

Well, it’s not truly his spine, is it? It’s this new brat’s.

But then there’s your honeyed voice again, “Huh, third eye.”

Right. You wouldn’t remember it, would you?

You wouldn’t remember any of it.

Yuuji shoots up, dark sheets tangled around his ankles and cold sweat beading down his forehead - strings of pink hair matted down to his skin uncomfortably. His wide eyes scramble across the shadows of his room, slowly refamiliarizing himself with the expanse and soothing his pounding heart.

He smoothes back his hair, running through the small kinks and knots, “What the hell was that?”

That slicing pain along his cheek shocks him awake further, but no sore, deep voice follows. The eye sits there, downcast. Sitting inside this body is one of the last things he saw for himself, but to exist beside you again is liquid gold just flowing in a river. A river his new body refuses to swim in.

“She’s still awake.”

Yuuji looks over to the red numbers lighting up from his bedside alarm clock, “It’s midnight.”

Sukuna inhales sharply, irritation scorching a hole in his tongue, but he withholds the many sudden hateful thoughts he has towards Yuuji and simply repeats himself, “She’s still awake.”

“It’s weird how obsessed you are with this,” Yuuji swings his legs over the edge of his bed and slips his feet into the slippers you’d gifted him. They’re cheesy and themed after fire engines and just barely fit, but he wears them at any given opportunity.

The eye sinks back into his skin, lips sealing shut, and a thick sludge boils in Yuuji’s stomach. Quiet King of Curses is an unsettling King of Curses, and Yuuji barely finds himself able to tune out the exhaustive wave of Sukuna’s criticisms. That is much preferred to this buzzing silence.

Creeping down the moaning wooden panels to your room, Yuuji raps his knuckles against your door before immediately shuffling his fists into his gray sweatpants.

Something clatters against hardwood, sheets ruffle, and your footsteps thump, thump, thump up to your bedroom door. Your face peeks out from the sliver of cracked doorway, and there’s no hint of sleep in your gaze. You seem alert, if a little lazily slouched against your doorframe.

“Itadori?”

Oh, right. He was here to say something, wasn’t he?

But he can’t possibly find the strength in his tongue, not when you look at him like that.

With some impossible adoration, like you simply can’t wait to hear whatever stupid bullshit he’s about to spout. He feels so unworthy of it all, and he can’t wait to find out more about you and mold himself to it. To become someone you can’t imagine waking up without. To study and be studied, he’s ready to throw himself into the horrors of being known - if it’s you he’s known by.

The air is punched out of him as he speaks, “Can…” you nod him along, opening your door wider, “Can I kiss you?”

Now that he’s so close to the sugary river, he can’t wait to dive in.

“Seriously?” you laugh in shock at the outburst, but when his face persists, you fling the door open entirely, “Seriously?”

Yuuji winds his hands tighter, to stop himself from desperately clawing his way down your throat, “I like you. I’ve liked you…” he’s unnatural like this, red in the face and dodging your stare, “I don’t even know.”

But you do, you felt it when you first saw him. However, you’re not plagued by the chains of past lives, so the implications are lost. Winding your arms behind your back and grinning at Yuuji with toothy glee, “Me too.”

His eyes nail you with that doughy, desperate plea for attention - the need to be seen as himself. And you’ve always been glad to lend it over in plentiful bounties.

That buzz of silence stabs the both of you.

Until Yuuji can no longer tether himself to his pockets, his big hands gentle as he cups both your cheeks. He molds himself to you, hoping that those troublesome flashes of times he never lived will at least serve his muscle memory now.

Your hands twist into the front of Yuuji’s shirt, nails biting into the black, soft, loose fabric and tugging him closer. Yuuji’s lips are slightly chapped, and you can feel the imprints from where he’s bitten them raw. He hisses when you peek your tongue at the smooth spots.

Wrenching your hands back, you quickly run them under and up his sleep shirt - his skin is warm and he gasps against your lips when your fingertips skim along his sides.

Yuuji pulls back, cheeks flaming, and shoulders his way past your bedroom door, kicking it shut behind him and placing his hands over his shirt - finding yours through the material. He grins, chuckling at how you grope his muscle, squeezing around your hands, “Enjoying yourself?”

“Whatever,” you huff, embarrassed, then ripping your hands out from under his shirt and twisting your fingers between his before - just to prove a point - planting his palms below your own shirt, “You try being normal like this.”

Yuuji’s broad palms are still only burning into the soft flesh of your stomach, but his heart is terribly out of whack.

Ba-dump. Ba-dump.

“You can go higher,” your voice lilts higher, a mere soft whisper as if anything louder could entirely break the poor boy’s brain, “If you want…”

Of course, he does. He’d trade a thousand years with that Sisyphus guy Megumi mentioned to him just for twelve seconds of his hands sizzling up your body. Maybe even just for the chance.

His hands scope higher, palms glued to the planes of your body like he’s trying to scar himself along your skin. The sudden need to leave some lasting impression that he was there - here with you.

Yuuji does his best not to jump when Sukuna’s voice slithers into his ear, polite enough to whisper so he doesn’t alarm you, “Get her on her back. Tongue her cunt.”

You look at him all sweet and concerned when Yuuji’s nose scrunches, “Are you okay? Is something wrong?”

But he has no idea how to tell you that Sukuna’s words make his stomach churn, and by the time he even tries to form the words he’s thinking about it. Imagining himself on his stomach with his head between your thighs, your hands tangled in his hair, and eagerly trying to annoy your friends as much as possible with how loud he can make you. And he feels so, so lightheaded at that.

Yuuji’s eyes are wide, staring into yours with such fire that it almost makes you shy away, “Can I eat you out?”

But you brave his dissecting gaze, heart pounding in your ears.

Ba-dump. Ba-dump.

And, oh, Yuuji could just about die happy right now.

On his stomach with his head between your thighs, your hands screwed into the twirls of his tousled hair and (hopefully) annoying at least a nosy Nobara should she be listening to your soft moans next door.

Yuuji wiggles his tongue into your weeping hole, nestling his nose against your clit with a wheezy little whine. His eyes flutter up at you through the gaps between your shaking arms.

“Get your hands in there,” Sukuna’s voice is muffled against the thickness of your thigh, “Thumb her clit, don’t rely on your nose.”

Crinkling his brows, Yuuji has to bite back his remarks about how Sukuna could’ve told him that sooner. Snaking his right hand over your leg, Yuuji flattens his large hand against your lower stomach and pins your bucking hips. His thumb taking residence on your swollen clit, the bridge of his nose still saddled beneath it.

Your back arches, hips grinding down into Yuuji’s thumb and tongue. He’s messy with it - head shaking just to tease and feel the wetness of your pussy slip and slather across his chin. He tongue-fucks you in earnest, practically moaning into you as he grinds against the mattress. Swishing his thumb against your clit faster when he can feel you tighten around him, chasing the feeling of you cumming all over his face.

He can hear it despite his desperation - the way your breath hitches and throat cinches out a squeal. Your thighs squish around his head and Yuuji has to force his hips still lest he be submitted to the horrors of cumming in his pants.

And it isn’t even the fear of your reaction - no, he knows better than to think you’re capable of making him feel shame. It’s just-

“Yes,” Sukuna’s voice is husky, tongue lolling out along Yuuji’s cheek to lather up your juice, “Yes!”

Yuuji knows exactly who will be making fun of him instead. He smacks at the unwanted presence and takes it as pure luck when Sukuna actually stays down.

He works his tongue out of you slowly, letting you whine and huff the way off your high naturally before peeking up at you. He’s grinning, eyes wide and hands retreating to dig hungrily into the meat of your thighs.

“Hey, I wanna try something,” Yuuji’s shamelessness in licking at his soaked lips makes heat flush all the way to your forehead, “Just let me know if it’s too much, okay?”

You nod sheepishly, body jittery with the little bugs crawling beneath your sweltering skin. Yuuji bends to the sudden thought he’s sure has something to do with the curse inside him with a mysterious catalog on all things you.

Yuuji slips onto his back beside you, curled against the cold wall corning your bed with his feet flat against the mattress and legs bent. He uses the unnatural well of strength he’s harbored since birth to squeeze at the fat of your sides and lift you atop of him. He can feel the warmth of your cunt on his pelvis and it wracks him with a shiver, you whine helplessly when his right hand immediately welds to your slit. His index and ring fingers part your lips so his middle can swipe coyly over your clit.

“Hah,” you watch his ring finger abandon its post to join the rude teasing, “Yuuji…”

“I know,” Yuuji sucks his bottom lip between his teeth, eyes glued to where your wetness drips onto his skin, his hard cock peeking up between your legs, “I know, I’m sorry,” but he doesn’t sound very sorry. Especially when he’s continuing to tease you while pressing a kiss to your cheek, “Okay, serious now,” but he dips his fingers lower and prods at your hole, “Serious.”

You giggle, hot-faced, at his focused gaze, “Yuuji!”

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” he spreads your lips again just to stare from over your shoulder, voice hoars when he finally speaks up, “Alright. Serious now.”

Reaching between your legs, Yuuji grabs hold of his cock - hissing at the contact - and is internally grateful when you raise your hips to meet his head. He presses his forehead against your shoulder when his tip pushes inside you. You feel the hot puffs of air he sends against your back as you continue lowering yourself. He whimpers, the hand at his base flying across your abdomen and gripping your breast. He squeezes and pinches and tries suffocating the embarrassing little noises escaping his lips when you rock your hips down on his pelvis.

“Okay down there?” you twist your head to look back at Yuuji and you’re so glad you did.

He’s flushed down to his chest and his lashes are kissing his cheeks to keep himself together, when he finally opens his eyes fully and looks up at you. His bottom lip is red and puffy from how hard he’d been biting it, “Now I’m gonna do something new.”

This wasn’t new?

Yuuji’s arms stretch under the backs of your knees and come over your shoulders before winding behind your neck, pressing his palms flat against the back of your head. Your arms dangle uselessly at your sides, hands stretching out to graze his ribs and legs bouncing limply as he manhandles you.

His cock bullies itself in your cunt, hips jerking up into the fat of your ass.

Yuuji tries to suffocate down his groans in favor of your sweet moans being punched up from your gut every time he sweeps deep inside you. His lips press tightly just as your own pop open for adorable “ah, ah ah!”s - fighting to maintain his pace despite how badly he wants to pin you to his body and wallow through the wetness sucking him back in for every thrust. Feel your sweaty skin slide and stick against his and whine at the pulling sensation when you peel apart.

Another sudden idea pops into his brain and it’s almost instinctual how he follows it. Besides, it isn’t like he’s going to complain about being brain-blasted with memories that aren’t his if it means not having to hear Sukuna’s voice while fucking you.

Hips never falter in their snaps up into you, Yuuji cranes his neck to teeth at the meat of your nape. He bites possessively and grunts in response to your immediate pitchy moan. Then licking over the marks apologetically.

You try to smother down your breathless moans as Yuuji bullies his cock repeatedly into that spongy spot shooting stars behind your eyes. With an angle and drive and care you’re sure would be lost on any man other than Yuuji - and you’re dumbly struck by the hope that maybe this hard work is only because he’s here with you. And that coherent thought is fucked out of you with Yuuji’s next whimpered request.

“Don’t do that,” he gasps when you tighten around him after a particularly rough thrust, “Please don’t keep it down- wanna…” he moans and the sound flutters straight to your tightening gut, “Wanna hear you so bad, pretty girl.”

Unlatching your teeth from the plush of your bottom lip, flames lap through the wiry twists of your veins - burning through the stretch of your skin and scarring Yuuji. And he eats it up and greedily begs at your feet for more. It shames Sukuna just as much as it excites him to taste the salt on your skin through his vessel’s tongue and watch the way your legs shake and bounce under his vessel’s iron hold. His favorite way to have you and your favorite way to take him.

Yuuji unwinds one of his arms from behind your neck, lowering half your body slightly to swipe his fingers between the junction of your thighs. Right over the slippery spot where you’re creaming on his cock and taking the soaked fingers to your clit. His canines and soft lips battle for a monopoly of your neck and shoulder, swiftly circling your clit with his middle and ring fingers as his hips continue fucking you stubbornly.

“Hng, Yuu…!” you gasp, head throwing back and narrowly missing his - the coil winding tighter and tighter and your walls milking Yuuji tighter and tighter, “Yuuji!”

“I know, baby,” he kisses up your bent neck and presses his flaming cheek against yours, “God, please, cum for me. Cum for me,” his hips stutter, and his breath hitches and oh, he’s so close, “I wanna feel you cum on me, baby- I need it. Need it so bad.”

“Oh, Yuuji,” you dig your face closer to his as if trying to meld yourselves into one body, “‘m cumming,” you clench and he’s damn near wheezing, the knot in his lower belly popping as he feels you cum and drips down his balls, “‘m cumming, I’m cumming, I’m cumming…!”

And just to avoid embarrassing himself from admitting he’s in love with you while spitting his own cum in your warm, wet walls, Yuuji strangles down his own final cries with a coppery, abusive bite to his bottom lip.

It starts to hurt, how he overstimulates himself through his slowing thrusts - letting you slip down onto his thrumming, sticky chest. Your legs sprawled across his sides, Yuuji slipping his softening cock from your hole.

You lazily roll off of Yuuji, landing face-first into your sheets at his side.

Yuuji can hear it again, that terrible, grating voice telling him, “Clean her, brat.”

And what’s the most terrible is he knows Sukuna’s command is entirely warranted. Flopping a hand onto your back, Yuuji traces heart shapes into the skin as he talks, “I’ll be right back.”

And when Yuuji’s wetting a soft, clean cloth he braved the hallway (nude) to retrieve from his room, he hears that voice again. It echoes in your bathroom.

“I want a turn when she’s awake,” a pause, “Fully awake.”

“Aren’t you charitable?” Yuuji rolls his eyes.

And that same utterance from hours before rings through Yuuji’s ears once again. Why Sukuna cared so much about petty crushes. Why Sukuna bothered himself by actually giving genuine, helpful points. Why Sukuna was fascinated by you.

“She was my most devoted and favorite lover in her past life.”

The way he says it inspires no respect for Yuuji - underlined in his thriving desire to be worshiped, as he imagines he deserves. Yuuji wouldn’t dare uphold you to that.

When he tenderly presses his thumbs into stiff muscles with a red flush and warm smile, Yuuji knows that for sure.

“Can I stay the night?” he whispers, folding his discarded towels and lazily tucking them by your bedpost on the floor. He feels that same hurried ache in his chest, awaiting for your impatience.

Ba-dump. Ba-dump.

You hum, lifting your head off the pillow and snickering, your drowsy face pinched to look at him like he’s stupid, “Duh.”

Giddy, Yuuji slips under the blankets he’d slid over you after cleaning the mess from between your thighs, and slots himself right next to you.

Rolling again, you twist into an open space against Yuuji’s chest and under his thick arm. Warmth drapes across your shoulders when he rests that arm over you. He circles his other arm around you and squeezes, grinning so hard he can feel it burning in the balls of his cheeks. Your ear rests against Yuuji’s chest, and you soothe yourself to slumber on the rhythm of his heartbeat.

Ba-dump. Ba-dump.

Blissfully unaware of the fact that when your bones are rotten and six feet deep, two more people will be curled into each other’s arms. With your same starry eyes that some pink-haired kid falls in love with every time they’re on him.

[in-class-daydreams]

Dear Husband (Sebastian Sallow x Reader)

Pairing: Auror!Sebastian Sallow x Pregnant!Fem!Reader Synopsis: Pregnancy hormones have done something to your brain and you just can't get out of your husband's business. You're far past clingy at this point and your sweet husband is taking it like a champ. Alternatively: Preggy Brain Go Brrr TW: Slightly suggestive, but barely. Like on the spice scale, it's mayonnaise with a dash of paprika.

You have a big fat crush on your husband.

Yes, yes, he’s your husband, of course you have strong feelings for him, and you’d already developed a crush on him back at Hogwarts about three days into your fifth year. Obviously, that tingly feeling eventually developed into love, but this was different. You’ve long since fallen for him, but since he got you pregnant, you were just obsessed with the man.

Sebastian originally wanted to take more days off from the ministry due to you being with child, but you insisted that you were still three months out and didn’t need his constant presence just yet.. Though, you were beginning to regret that statement as you reclined on the couch, eating from the box of licorice spiders resting on your protruding stomach. If Baby Sallow was going to make you carry them, you figured you’re well within your rights to use them as a table. Licorice spiders were never your favorite, but your pregnancy made you crave the oddest of things, the licorice being one of them. And your sweet husband never complained about you decimating his stash of his favorite candy, not once.

Currently, your husband was busy in the kitchen cooking you breakfast before he went to work. His black dress shirt had the sleeves rolled up and his hair was only a bit more styled than he used to wear it as a student. You stuffed a handful of candy in your mouth and savored the chewy texture. Then you wondered to yourself if your child will look like him. They better not, if they’re going to make you round and make you push them out of your nethers. Then again, your husband is just so handsome you wouldn’t mind having a copy of him running around, but the problem is how you’d ever say no to either of them. It’s a dilemma to be sure.

“Are you comfortable, darling?” Sebastian asks. “I can bring more pillows from the bedroom if you’d like.”

You shake your head. He dotes on you plenty and while you’re quite sizable, you’d hardly consider yourself burdened with child just yet.

“Could you put the potatoes on the counter, please?” You rub your belly. “I don’t want to have to bend down for them later.”

“Of course.” Sebastian bends down and hoists the heavy bag onto the counter.

Confession time. You don’t have that problem at all. You are both a powerful witch and an ancient magic wielder, so you are more than capable of levitating as much as your entire house above your head. But if you did that, how could you watch your husband’s shirt tighten around his biceps?

You bite your lip watching him play both roles. Dressed as a breadwinner but doing domestic tasks. Cooking for you, making your shared bed, massaging your legs after dinner. You’d never admit this, but it’s empowering to have one of the most talented Aurors the ministry has ever seen at your beck and call.

That last thought is the final straw. You can’t take it any more. While his back is turned, you heft yourself up and approach him from behind, wrapping your arms around his midsection. You bury your face in his back and nuzzle him like a cat.

“Hello to you, too,” Sebastian chuckles, moving to turn to face you, but you hold him still.

His scent is intoxicating, a mix of your laundry detergent, a little woodsmoke, and something else uniquely him. You used to wear his Slytherin jumper back in the day for his quidditch matches, and you’d bury your face in the sleeves when no one was looking.

Speaking of quidditch, Sebastian is a few years removed from the sport considering his busy career since graduation, but Imelda’s rigorous training regimen withstood the test of time in the form of your husband’s thick forearms and broad shoulders.

You run your hands from his toned stomach, up his sides, and over his pecs before retracing your pattern down to thick thighs in tight slacks. His line of work made it necessary for him to keep in shape and you thanked every being in existence for that.

Sebastian puts a hand over yours when you start tugging his tucked shirt out of his waistband.

“Keep that up and you’ll be having burnt toast for breakfast,” he warns.

You whine, shaking off his hand and digging your fingers under his shirt to trace the warm skin across his hips.

“What if I have a different meal in mind this morning?” You press yourself against him, to which his breath hitches and he shuts off the stove. He spins around in your arms and tries to say something only for you to plant kisses up and down his jaw and down the slope of his neck. Sebastian’s head tips back and he groans under your touch and you smile against his neck. He’s been weak to you for as long as you’ve known him, give or take a few days.

But when you undo a button of his waistcoat, he makes a strangled sound and stops you, breathing quickly.

“Believe me, I want this desperately, but I can’t be late today,” he says like it physically pains him.

You rest your head on his chest and look up at him with the trained doe eyes you use to get your way. What are you supposed to do? Let him leave the house looking like that without you getting your fill of him? Preposterous.

Sebastian looks towards the ceiling as if he was asking a deity for strength to deny you. Granted, that’s what it would take at this point, but when he looks back down at you with resolve, you wonder if it really is divine intervention or if you’re just losing your touch.

“Please, love, I need to compare notes with my temporary partner. She won’t like it if I’m late,” he reasons.

You pout. “Ominis would understand.”

“Yes, but only because he’s fond of you. If I was married to anyone else, he’d give me an earful for being late. Besides, he won’t be back for another few weeks.” Sebastian turns back to the stove and plates your food before handing it to you.

You take it reluctantly and grumble. “Stupid Ominis. Stupid Turkish dark wizard.”

Sebastian smiles and gives you a gentle kiss on the lips. Then he bends at the waist and gives your bump a kiss as well.

“He’ll be back soon and then you can distract me before work as you please.” The thought is enough to placate you for the moment.

“Will you be in the office around noon? I’ll make you lunch,” you offer.

He confirms with another kiss. “I’ll see you then.”

Sebastian shrugs on his coat while you marvel at his delicious shoulder to hip ratio. If he wasn’t so prodigal with Auror work, he’d have made a fantastic model, you think. That would be a disaster in its own right, though, because the last thing you need is even more people oogling your husband.

On his way out the door, Sebastian looks at you over his shoulder and says, “But if you come by, we can’t shag in my office.”

Your jaw drops to the floor and you gasp in indignation.

“What! Why not?” you demand.

Sebastian sighs. “Because Baby Sallow makes it hard for me to bend you over the desk and, frankly, you’re not exactly quiet.”

“I’ll be quiet! I promise!” The thought of not getting your hands all over your husband until after his workday ended was turning your brain into mush. How on Earth could you survive that long? You nearly tear up at the idea. Ah, this must be the phase of pregnancy where your emotions are all over the place.

Sebastian closes the distance between you, laughing. “Wait a bit longer, and you won’t have to be quiet.” He whispers in your ear, “When I get home, I’ll make sure you can't be quiet if you try.”

At that, you shove him up against the door and kiss him senseless until he’s flushed and has to adjust himself in his pants before finally leaving for work.

~~

The next time Sebastian works from home, he’s at the dining table pouring over several thick files of documents. This was the type of work he was amazing at. Growing up with professors for parents and a natural love for reading (even if that love caused some issues back in the day) made him an excellent investigator and you so loved watching him work.

You dip a slice of green apple into your cup of molasses and take a bite. It was certainly? A flavor? But your pregnant body demanded it and so apples and molasses it would be.

“But the bank account was clean…” Sebastian mutters to himself.

You lean against the counter, head resting in your free hand like a blushing schoolgirl. You bite the tip of your thumbnail as you admire the man who mastered the Dark Arts by the end of sixth year. Sure, he was an Auror now and used his expertise for good, but it was even more impressive that he was so close to the point of no return and was able to pull himself back from the brink. He liked to say it was your love for him that brought him back, but you always replied that you only helped him find the strength he had all along.

“You’re staring.” 

You hum in pleasure at the sound of his deep voice. He has the same accent as most of the people around you, but his just makes you want to kick your feet and squeal.

“You’re so handsome,” you say dreamily.

Sebastian’s ears turn slightly pink. “Oh, well, I’m glad you think so. Thank you.”

You bite your lip. “I want to marry you.”

He barks out a surprised laugh, glancing at the gold band on his left ring finger. “I have good news for you.”

“I’d marry you a second time.”

Sebastian puts down the document he’s holding and eyes you.

“And a third.” You get up and make your way over to him to wrap your arms around his neck. Sebastian takes you in his arms as you continue. “Look at this face.” You trace constellations in his freckles with your eyes. “So handsome. Do you have any idea,” you gripe, “how many of our classmates would have done anything to have a chance with you?”

Swaying you both from side to side, Sebastian says, “Can’t say I recall. I was quite busy during my fifth year and on. Someone decided they wanted all my attention to themselves.” He kisses your nose.

“When quidditch season started back up in sixth year, it was impossible. You were walking around, getting bulkier by the day, wearing that damned uniform.” Tracing a finger up his chest, you continue to complain. “And I was just supposed to go on with my day and focus on lessons while the other girls were talking about how big and strong you’d gotten over the summer? Completely unfair.”

Sebastian grew several inches over the course of a few months and his development was not gradual. No, he went from boy to man almost overnight, and that, combined with his charming nature and sharp wit, made him a hot commodity sixth year and on.

Since being married to him, you’ve realized that what you saw at Hogwarts was nothing compared to what he would become. He was a cutie when you met him, and grew frustratingly attractive over the next few years, but Auror Sebastian? Your husband? He was outright handsome.

“Can I sit with you while you work?” you ask sweetly, to which Sebastian immediately agrees. He’s never really been able to say no to you, has he?

“But it’s just a paper trail. Terribly dull without context,” he warns.

You nod your head in understanding. All you want is to be near him. When you move to the other side of the table to pull over a chair, he stops you and pulls out his wand. From there he shifts around the furniture so that the sofa is right next to the table so you can lounge near him.

“I love you, Seb.”

“And I, you.”

[pastanest]

George Weasley x she/her Hufflepuff!reader

A/N: recovered by the lovely @paintyourviolence !! thank you so much! ♡ if you’re wondering why I’ve had to repost this imagine, please check out this post

Would You Be So Kind

It truly isnt fair. It hasnt been for years. To be precise, you have been living an unjustifiably cruel life for the past four years, almost to the day.

You remember it like it was yesterday; the excitement bubbling in you as the train travelled closer and closer to your new school, your school for magic. The very kind Harry Potter had given you a seat in his carriage, alongside another boy who you came to know as Ron Weasley. It was their first year, too, and they were both as excited as you were, but unlike you, they could verbalise their excitement and hold actual conversations. Meanwhile, you sat and watched the world blur by through the windows on the other side of the carriage door, since both boys were situated by the carriage window. As the snack trolley arrived, and the sweet old lady asked if any of you would be buying anything, there was a steady thudding down the train, growing louder as it neared; until two taller red-headed boys almost ran directly into the trolley. Upon being stopped, they smiled at Ron through the door.

“Just our luck, we’ve only ended up by Ron’s carriage!” One of the twins teased, laughing.

The other twin chuckled along with his brother, then gestured to Harry. “Go on then, introduce us to your new friends!”

Ron sighed dramatically. “Harry Potter.”

The first twin that had spoken, Fred, raised his eyebrows. “Blimey!”

Harry waved politely. “Hello!”

The second twin that had spoken, George, smiled at you kindly.

“And who’s this?”

You realised he was looking to you for an answer to that question, and considering the question was only asking your name, it seemed a reasonable one to ask you, but at that exact moment you discovered that you could not speak.

“That’s (Y/N).” Ron answered for you, much to your relief, but the embarrassment had already set in, and you avoided everyone’s eyes, choosing instead to stare down at your lap.

George Weasley squeezed between the trolley and the carriage door partially, leaning just slightly closer to you.

“Hey, dont worry, everyone’s nervous on their first day. It’ll all feel normal in no time!” He encouraged sweetly, a gesture that was completely unnecessary in the circumstance of you two still being strangers, but when you lifted your head and met the genuine smile on George Weasley’s face, your heart seemed to recognise him.

In the four years that have passed since that day, your interactions with George have been minimal. You couldn’t help feeling gutted when the sorting hat sent you to the Hufflepuff table. Though you realised almost immediately that it was where you belonged, it put a further rift between you and the boy that already felt a million miles away with the two year age gap alone. Thankfully, despite being restricted to a different common room, you did have regular classes with Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and the most intelligent person you’d ever met: Hermione Granger. The three of them being in a different house didn’t seem to deter them from maintaining their friendship with you, and although you do have friends in your own house by now, you still frequently enjoy the company of the Golden Trio. And on a few, precious, perfect occasions, being with them has caused you to cross paths with George Weasley.

Especially in your first year, during which you and Hermione spent almost every free period in the library. It wasn’t guaranteed, but the possibility of a teacher sending Fred and George to fetch a particular book from the library was a decently common occurrence. You had never known a teacher to not have a book they needed already in their classroom, but upon asking Ron about it, he said his older brothers likely went into classrooms beforehand to steal books and put them in the library in order to have an excuse to leave lessons. This rebellious streak made George all the more appealing to you, unfortunately. But it wasnt merely the reason for their visits to the library that worsened your symptoms; every single time Fred and George wandered into the library, George would spot you and give you that same genuine smile. And every single time, you would smile back, completely flustered. So flustered in fact, that you had been known to drop the library books you were carrying to yours and Hermione’s chosen table, or you would trip over your own feet and Hermione would rush over to help you, while George gave you a worried expression that you treasured, followed by the question of whether you were alright.

“Always the clutz!” You would say, making him laugh.

Eventually, it happened enough times for him to make that comment before you could.

Obviously, witnessing those interactions in first year meant Hermione was completely clued in on your crush. Back then, it felt very childish to even consider the possibility of him having any interest in you, because you quite literally were a child, not even a teenager yet, like he was. And as children often do, you expected to grow out of your childhood crush. But much to your dismay, George Weasley would not allow that.

The older you got, the more comfortable you got with casually bumping into the Weasley twins, always saying hello to George and then Fred in order to try and hint that you were in love with him. It didnt work, but you kept trying.

You’d wave at them in passing, exchange small talk on occasion, and George would always give you that same smile. Ever since second year, when he and Fred arrived back at Hogwarts having had an extreme growth spurt, that smile would look down at you, and that only made things worse. Especially when that growth spurt didn’t seem to stop, and George’s smile kept lifting further and further out of your reach. And let’s not forget your third year, when George grew his hair out to frame that smile high above you. A masterpiece that was definitely worth framing, you thought. Honestly, if he had kept his hair that long, you dont know if you would have survived.

By now, your Hufflepuff friends as well as the Golden Trio are all too aware of your crush on George Weasley. Ron, in particular, loves to tease you about it. When Hermione gave you the password to the Gryffindor common room in your third year so that you could meet her in her dormitory to study, Ron had grinned cheekily.

“Something tells me (Y/N)’ll be using that password more than any of us!” He teased, and despite the fact his joke was incredibly vague in its exact meaning, you were mortified, because the twins happened to walk by at that exact moment.

“Ooh, a Hufflepuff’s got our password? Do we have a fellow rebel on our hands?” Fred wiggled his eyebrows at you, and you buried your face in your hands.

“No!” You squeaked.

George leant down to nudge you gently. “Hey, if you get caught sneaking in, just say we gave you the password.”

And again, his voice pulled you from your own embarrassment, right back to that smile.

It is honestly infuriating how kind he is to you. Even now, in fourth year, you aren’t in any way used to it, because George seems to excel in charms more and more, both inside and out of a classroom, every year. Just today, you happened to be walking across the courtyard when you spotted George totally by chance, laughing with Fred, and the sight of him so happy was distracting enough to make you trip and fall in the grass. Initially, you cursed yourself for walking without Hermione to assist you if you fell, and you scrambled onto your knees to pick up your scattered books. It was then, you felt a large hand press ever so delicately against your back.

“Always the clutz?” He had chuckled, and your heart skipped a beat simply because he remembered an inside joke from your first year.

Then, George was helping you pick up your books, and soon enough Fred ran over to help you, too. Fred took ahold of your books while George helped you back to your feet, the pair of Weasley’s towering over you, but you couldn’t look away from George.

“Thank you.” Was all you could manage as Fred passed you your books.

You saw that smile, and then you were scampering off before your heart could leap right out of your chest.

Now, you’re pacing around the Gryffindor common room while Hermione, Ron and Harry sit on one sofa, their eyes watching you as you embody your stress.

“Why the HELL does he do this?! What did I do to deserve this kind of torture!?!” You sigh, raking your fingers through your hair.

The fireplace crackles obnoxiously, setting your teeth on edge. If it wasn’t the only current source of light in the room, you would take your shoes off to stomp it out with your bare feet, it’d be less painful than - and a wonderful distraction from - thinking about George Weasley.

Ron laughs. “It’s hardly torture, (Y/N), he helped you up when you fell over.”

Your fiery gaze makes him shrink into the sofa, and Hermione elbows him in the ribs for good measure.

“It is absolutely torture for George Weasley - an infamous prankster - to show unwavering kindness to (Y/N); anyone with a crush on him would be smitten by him treating them differently to everyone else!” Hermione corrects him, and you nod at her gratefully as you continue your pacing.

“Sometimes I wish one of you would Obliviate me so I’d forget that first day on the train, and every moment with him after. It’d save me YEARS of pain! I am tired.” You groan in frustration, shaking your head.

“Well, have you tried telling him?” Harry speaks up, and you spin on your heel, staring at him like he’s insane.

“Of course she hasn’t! The lack of answers is what has made this so much worse, you simply must tell him!” Hermione pleads, and you scoff, rolling your eyes and crossing your arms over your chest as heat rises to your face.

“So, what? You think I should just waltz right up to him and say ‘Hey, George, not sure if you’re aware but I thought I’d let you know that I’m head over heels in love with you and I’d appreciate it if you could act like a total dick to me so I can get over this because there is no way in hell you feel the same way’?” You pause to laugh. “Hermione, Im gonna be honest, I think I would rather take the entire school population’s OWL’s in one sitting.” The silence that follows your words makes you frown. “What? Do you actually think I should say that to him? Are you all in deluded agreement?!”

The three of them stare at you with wide eyes.

“U-Uh, (Y/N)...” Ron utters nervously, making your stomach twist with worry.

“You might want to...turn around.” Harry finishes Ron’s sentence, and your blood runs cold.

Swallowing hard, you shake your head. “No, no I don’t think I want to turn around. Actually, I am suddenly overwhelmingly tired, hope you don’t mind Hermione but I’m going to take a quick nap in your bed right this second-“ You attempt to run past the sofa, but Hermione grabs hold of you, stopping you.

“Good thing you wont have to take all those OWL’s.” A voice says from behind you, and you have never wished harder that you had a talent for falling unconscious, or dying, on command.

The room is silent again, save for the fire still crackling away. Hermione’s arms slowly let go of you, recognising that you are as good as petrified.

“C’mon, we’d better give these two some space.” You hear Fred say, and then he’s ushering the Golden trio up the stairs, into their dormitories.

Closing your eyes, you lift your left hand to pinch your right arm as hard as you can, but to no avail. This is not a dream, and you are doomed.

“(Y/N), look at me.” George pleads, his voice softer than you’ve ever heard it before.

You shake your head. “Cant.”

His voice is closer to you when he speaks up again. “Why?”

You open your eyes, focussing your gaze on the wall ahead of you. “Because I won’t be able to think straight if I do.”

And despite not being able to see him, you can hear the genuine shock in George’s voice. “I didn’t know you had it that bad…I’m sorry, (Y/N).”

You sigh, nodding slowly. “No, it’s alright, really. You were only being nice. Admittedly, you being a dick to me would have been a much kinder form of rejection than this, but at least I can say goodbye to the days of chest pains and speechlessness.”

George’s voice is even closer now. “Oh, (Y/N).” And before you can register what’s happening, George’s much larger hand has wrapped around yours and gently pulled you around to face him. “I wasn’t apologising for leading you on, because I haven’t been. I was apologising for not plucking up the courage to be honest with you sooner. If you’re looking for rejection, I’m afraid I’m not the man.”

You blink rapidly, very much struggling to wrap your head around George’s words, especially when he’s standing so close to you, holding your hand, and looking down at you like that.

“But...how? How long have you…?” The objective to ask a simple question is failed, your mind scrambled by too many things that all fall under the umbrella term of George Weasley.

“Well, I’ve noticed that you only seem to fall over, trip over, and get all shy when I’m talking to you. Even asked Ron if you act like that around anyone else, he said no.” George explains, smiling away, and you have to focus as hard as you can to not swoon right in front of him. He checked that you only acted that way around him?

“Remind me to kick Ron’s ass for not telling me you did that, but there’s a more pressing matter at hand.” You clarify, causing George to laugh as he nods.

“Agreed.”

You sigh, your gaze falling to the floor. “I know you know that I like you, but that’s not enough-“

George interrupts you, shaking his head dramatically. “I like you, (Y/N)! Im just a wuss! Wussiest Gryffindor around! Maybe I should’ve been put in Hufflepuff…”

Your head snaps up as you gasp and playfully smack George on the shoulder for his house-ist comment, making him chuckle.

“In all seriousness, though, we don’t know each other that well, but we clearly have some kind of mutual attraction to each other, and I don’t see the harm in figuring out what that means.” He suggests, shrugging casually, and your stomach flips, a beaming smile taking over your face and confirming to George that you’re onboard with his idea. “Okay, so, do you want to accompany me to the library for some studying?”

You’re about to answer when the two of you hear Hermione shouting from the room above.

“GEORGE WEASLEY, (Y/N) DESERVES MORE THAN A FIRST DATE OF STUDYING!”

Casting your gazes up to the ceiling, you both laugh, and George nods as he glances back down at you.

“She’s right.” He looks back up at the ceiling. “CAN I TAKE HER TO HOGSMEADE?”

And through the ceiling, Hermione shouts a reply. “THAT’S MORE LIKE IT!”

You and George share a laugh, and then he takes both of your hands in his. “So, would you care to accompany me to Hogsmeade, (Y/N)?”

With that same beaming smile still stretching across your face, you nod frantically. “Of course!”

George grins back at you. “Let’s go then!”

Your eyes almost fall out of your skull. “Now?”

George chuckles. “Yeah, why not?”

You nod. “Okay, give me a few minutes to get ready!”

And before he can reply, you’ve run up the stairs and into Hermione’s dormitory.

After some intensive squealing, jumping around and panicked exchanges of utter gibberish, Hermione is digging through her trunk and throwing every oversized jumper she finds at you. There isnt time for you to run back to the Hufflepuff common room, that’s acknowledged without you or Hermione needing to mention it, but you also need to wear a jumper that goes with the rest of your outfit.

A few minutes of frustratedly trying on and throwing off jumpers pass, and then there’s a light knock on the dormitory door.

“(Y/N)?” George calls, and your eyes widen.

“Just a minute!” You squeak.

George chuckles through the door. “I was just going to say that you can always wear one of my jumpers, if you cant find something of Hermione’s.”

Feeling faint all of a sudden, you sit down on Hermione’s bed, and she runs to you, grabbing your hands and giving you an excited, squealy grin. She knows as well as you do that this has been one of your dreams since first meeting George, and Hermione wastes no time in pulling you to your feet and pushing you to the door.

When you open it, George is leaning against the doorframe with a smirk on his face and one of the Christmas jumpers his mother has made him folded up in his hands, which he holds out to you without a word. You cant hide your elation as you stick your arms through the far-too-long sleeves and poke your head through the hole, pulling the jumper down your body until it’s practically halfway down your thighs, but the big letter ‘G’ on your stomach makes you giddy all over again.

“This is even more adorable than I imagined.” George’s voice is barely above a whisper as he stares down at you, and his shyness brings about an unprecedented confidence in you as you slip your hand in his.

“So, Hogsmeade?”

And so, what was left of the daylight was spent wandering around Hogsmeade with George Weasley. The two of you visited Honeydukes, in which George spoilt you by discretely purchasing every sweet your eyes lit up at, using up some of his portion of earnings from his and Fred’s inventions. He did so discreetly because he knew if you saw him doing it, you would have stopped him, and when he presented you with a bag of sweets that you’d unknowingly selected, you didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, so you settled with jumping up to plant a kiss on his cheek before running into Zonko’s Joke Shop. For a few seconds, George stood outside Honeydukes with his fingertips tracing the place on his cheek where your lips had been, in utter bewilderment. And then, with a dazzling smile, he ran after you. In Zonko’s, you paid George back by purchasing him some Dungbombs, Nose-Biting Teacups, and some Sugar Quills when he was wandering around the shop with a distracted, awestruck expression. As you left, you surprised George with a small bag of gifts just like he had done for you, and in return he leant down to kiss your forehead.

In what felt like no time at all, George was walking you back to the Hufflepuff common room with an arm around your shoulders. Upon reaching the entrance, you turned to George, and you couldn’t meet his eyes; this time it wasnt because of shyness, but sadness.

“Hey, we can do this again. Tomorrow, if you like!” George squeezes your hands, giddy at the thought of spending more time with you, and effortlessly lifting your spirits just by being himself.

Smiling up at him, you nod. “That would be lovely.”

Gesturing to the long sleeves that cover your hands, which are hidden away in his, George smirks. “Keep the jumper.”

Your eyes widen, having completely forgotten that you are still wearing his jumper and therefore not even considering taking it off.

“A-Are you sure?”

George chuckles. “Of course, (Y/N). Mum makes us all a new one every year, I don’t have enough time to wear the whole collection! And, it looks better on you, anyway.”

You giggle, feeling your face heat up far more than you’re comfortable with it doing in public. “Thank you, George. I’ll treasure it.”

Your words bring a warm smile to his face. “I know.”

Then, you get an idea, and you beam. “But wait, gifts between us have previously had a price. How much does this jumper cost?”

Catching on immediately, George turns his head to the side slightly, letting go of one of your hands to tap the space on his cheek that you had previously kissed. But your idea is even better, and you shake your head mischievously.

“A jumper is more than a few sweets.” You hint, and George’s eyes widen.

“So...that means…” He trails off nervously, not wanting to make any assumptions, and you decide to answer his question without words.

Standing on your tiptoes, you let go of George’s other hand and place them both on his clothed chest, waiting patiently. Swallowing nervously, George nods.

“Right.”

And then his arms wrap around your waist, gently lifting you up just enough to reach him, and then his lips meet yours. The kiss is soft, his arms holding you carefully as his lips dance against yours ever so slowly, butterflies erupting in your stomachs and fluttering around the two of you. Silent fireworks surround you, the overwhelming sensations of him enveloping you and bringing you somewhere you’ve never been, but it immediately feels like home. Pulling away from George slowly, you grin at him, and he chuckles in disbelief, gently placing you back down on the ground.

“You can have as many jumpers as you want.” George says, causing you to burst out laughing.

“Kisses come free from now on, deal?” You suggest, and George nods eagerly.

“Deal!”

Beaming at him, you take ahold of his hand one last time. “Goodnight, George.”

He surprises you by lifting your arm and leaning down to place a soft kiss against your knuckles, holding your gaze as he does.

“Until tomorrow, (Y/N). Sweet dreams.”

You watch George walk away, glancing over his shoulder every few seconds and chuckling every time he sees you still looking at him. Just before he rounds the corner, he takes the time to blow you a dramatic kiss, and you jump up to catch it with just as much dramatics, causing you both to laugh as he disappears from view, and you pass through the Hufflepuff entrance. As soon as you’re in the common room, you lean against the wall and take a deep breath with a wide smile plastered on your face, knowing with complete confidence that whatever you dream about, it will never feel as sweet as this.

[fayedintoyou]

summertime at the burrow

A/N: i want to be an honorary weasley please im literally begging. notice me molly weasley

Pairings: Best Friend!Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

Summary: Fred finally invites his best friend home over summer holiday. Neither of you expected it to go so well. 3.7k words.

Warnings: fluff, best friends to lovers, ungodly amount of shenanigans, friendly bullying/teasing, mud wrestling, kissing, (friendly) violence, pet names (trouble, snookums, sugarplum, sweetheart), cursing, borderline frog abuse

"Good morning, trouble."

You hop into the seat next to him that he’d been saving for you. In fact, he’d been saving it for you since the first time you plopped down beside him after the sorting hat declared your house first year. You laughed when he shook your hand. He thought you had the cutest smile. Then you teased him for his devilish charm and he called you catty, and you’ve been teasing each other ever since.

"Are you packed and ready?” He sounds more worried than that time he nearly shattered his collar bone during a vicious Quidditch scrimmage. “We're leaving bright and early tomorrow. Mum says she's preparing a hearty lunch for our guests." Fred scarfs down the rest of his breakfast and turns to look at you to find you're looking back at him in bewilderment.

"Somebody's excited," you tease, ruffling his fiery locks and glancing over at George with a grin.

"If you think this is bad, you should see him before winter holidays," George huffs.

“I have.”

Fred rolls his eyes at you and you jab him in the side.

"Where are the lot of you off to?" Lee perks up from across the table, setting his plate down and wiggling his way between Alicia and Angelina.

"I finally got my honorary invite to the Weasley burrow this summer," you chirp, wrapping your arm over Fred's shoulders and leaning him into your side.

Lee cocks a brow and smirks at a suddenly and uncharacteristically shy Fred. "Well, it's about time! You've only been dating for—"

You shake your head. "No, not dating, Lee. I swear we've been over this—"

"Oh, we've been over it plenty. I just choose to ignore wicked witches when they lie—!"

You practically leap across the table with your teeth gritted to grab for his robes when you're stopped by the laughing twins holding you back from tearing into him. "Lee Jordan, you take that back right now, or so help me your mother will wonder why your hair's gone purple!"

"I'm not going to apologize for being lied to!"

"Let me at him! I'm trying to defend my honor here!"

"Miss—young lady!”—McGonagall appears behind you, sending you into shock and barreling back onto the bench—“Settle down! You're frightening the first years, and we typically prefer they come back in the fall."

"Apologies, professor, I was simply trying to have a friendly discussion with my classmate," you say, gesturing to Lee who smiles begrudgingly.

"Right, well, from now on, let's have our discussions from across the furniture, not on top of it." She wanders away, and you turn to stick your tongue out at Lee who is doubled-over and cackling at your being caught.

“I hope you know, we’re going to receive the same third-degree from my dear mother,” Fred mumbles in your ear. His heart races when you turn to him, a playful glint in your eye. You blink sweetly and rest your hand on his knee when he tucks his arm around your lower back. “But don’t worry, sugarplum, it’s never too late to try.”

He winks. Your eyes go wide, and you shove at his shoulder with a chuckle disguised by a scoff.

“Scabbers not the only rat in the Weasley family, I see.”

“That is exactly what I’m talking about, there’s no way you two are just friends—”

A slice of ham sticks to Lee’s cheek with a cold, wet slap as you eye him from across the table.

“Don’t listen to him, snookums, he just doesn’t understand our complicated arrangement,” Fred says, nudging your cheek with his nose and holding back laughter.

“Gross,” George mutters, grinning before he’s met with the same lunchmeat backhand his friend so rudely received. “Suppose I could’ve predicted that one.”

…

You wipe the sweat from your brow, slinging your carry-on over your shoulder before bending down to pick up your trunk. You’re trailing behind most of the rest of the group, just a few steps behind the twins while their younger siblings charge ahead through the field with Harry and Hermione. Fred checks in with you every couple of meters, making sure you don’t need any serious medical attention.

Once the twins breach the front door, you take a seat outside on your trunk, fanning yourself with your hand and throwing your head back. Then you hear:

“Fred, you better get out there and help that poor girl with her things!”

“Sorry, mum!”

You chuckle when he appears in the doorway moments later, winded as ever, hair plastered to his forehead, and still grinning wildly as he jogs over.

“What’s a lovely young lady like yourself doing outside all alone on such an unbearably hot afternoon?”

“Sweating like swine.”

“Ravishing,” he teases, shooing you off the suitcase, “head inside, mum’s absolutely itching to meet you.”

So you do. You can see her welcoming her children and their friends alike, and it fills you with the warmth of fresh gingerbread and the nerves of a teenage boy during school dance season.

“My dear!” she coos, arms outstretched even though a thin year of sweat coats every inch of your body, even though you’ve been wearing these clothes for a day, and even though you’re breathing heavy like a dog. She’s got her arms outstretched like you’re family.

“I’ve heard so much about you from Fred, and, goodness, you’re even prettier than he said you’d be!” —She gasps when he walks through the door, hauling your trunk in tow—“Don’t tell him I told you.”

“It’s been five minutes and you two are already sharing secrets about me. Only seven more days, Freddie,” he mumbles, setting the trunk down with a thud.

“Oh, well! It’s wonderful to finally meet you, dear, Ginny will show you to your room and lunch will be ready once you’re all settled!”

“Thank you, Mrs Weasley—”

“Oh, none of that, call me Molly.”

Your brows knit when she smiles at you so gently before making her way back to the kitchen.

“Thank you, Molly!”

Fred hops up from where he’d been relaxing on an armchair, clapping you on the arm with a reassuring smile.

“Everything processing alright up there?”

You nod.

“Peachy. Now give me a smile, you’re scaring me.”

You squint at him and pinch his arm, simpering when he hisses and swats your dry-gulching fingers away.

“That’ll do!”

“We’re up this way,” Ginny chirps as she rushes by and tugs you by the hand up the stairs.

Fred watches after you, rubbing his arm with a mean look on his face just before his playful resentment fades and his affections settle into the apples of his cheeks. This is going to be a long seven days.

…

Fred had never invited anyone to stay at the burrow. He preferred the company of his close family and whoever his mother deemed Weasley-enough herself. But he’d been saving this invitation. It stewed in the back of his mind for years before he mustered up the courage to offer it to you.

Ridiculous. That’s how it sounded in his head: ridiculous. If he wanted to ask you, he should have done it at the first chance. That’s what Fred would do. But he could never bring himself to get the words out whenever he swore to himself today would be the day. Because you’d just look at him with those damned doe eyes—you’d test his boundaries and make him all gushy inside—and it was like he was suddenly turned to a tongue-tied and pathetic halfwit.

And now here you are. An unofficial part of his family. But nevertheless a part of it. You’d found the annual Weasley strawberry-picking trip to be wonderful despite Fred pulling cheap pranks on you and the fact that it was basically sweltering outside. When you returned, you all spread out in the family room with bowls of the dewy berries in each of your laps. Everyone claimed a seat while you and Fred were forced to share the hardwood floor. You ended up tossing the small fruits into each other’s mouths with your legs laid across his thighs.

At one point, he lands one of the berries down your blouse. Almost immediately, he starts to laugh, clutching his chest while you gawk at him.

“You better start running, trouble.”

He gulps and scampers to his feet before scurrying out the front door. You take off after him, shouting curses into the wind when he rounds a corner.

You follow his footsteps but he’s nowhere to be seen.

“I swear, if I ever get my hands on you—”

He grabs your waist from behind you, dipping down to whisper in your ear. “You can put your hands on me whenever you’d like, sugarplum—”

“Merlin’s Beard, Fred! You scared the shit out of me!”

You jolt away, and he thinks you look genuinely angry this time. But he smiles and your features soften. Then you’re after him again, bounding into the tall grass with an uproar of laughter.

…

You spend the next few days of your vacation trying to beat Ron at chess then deciding it may be better if you and Harry team up to try and beat Ron at chess. You also take Ginny and Hermione shopping while the gaggle of boys trail behind the three of you grumbling and whining about missing their beloved Quidditch game.

You offer to help Molly with every meal, and she only accepts once you convince her your desserts are a crowd favorite back home. She’s proud to say she’s impressed, and she grows even prouder when you admit you adore big families like hers and see at least two kids of your own in your future.

Arthur takes a liking to you after you listen to him rave about the kind of items muggles use day-to-day and how fascinating their modern technology has become in recent years. He’s thrilled to find you actually take interest in his tinkering and collections and whatnot.

But most of all, you spend your time at the burrow with Fred. He steals you away after meals and keeps you up late to teach you his favorite charms. One overcurious evening finds you two perched together on the bathroom floor whispering and giggling while you brush a bold smokey-eye onto his eyelids. Let’s just say dinner that night was nothing short of hilarious: a look that Fred will never live down.

On the fifth morning, you jostle him awake. He whines about the sun not even being up yet while you drag him down the steps and shove your socked feet into an extra pair of rubber boots.

“What’s the bucket for?” he whispers, traipsing down the path along the side of the house when you stop dead in your tracks.

“Shh!” You press your gloved finger to his lips. A chorus of croaks erupts from the marsh beside the house. Nothing out of the ordinary for Fred, in fact that sound had often soothed him to sleep. But there’s a dangerous glint in your eye that tells him you’re on a mission.

“Can’t we do this when the sun is up? It’s cold and I’m tired—”

“The faster we catch ‘em, the faster we can go back to bed,” you whisper as your boot sinks into the edge of the muddy body of water. He sighs and sinks in next to you with his hands on his hips.

“I can’t believe you’ve convinced me to do this. You’re lucky you’re so pretty or you’d never get away with anything.”

You purse your lips and wade a little further out, looking out at the cooly rippling water beneath the sliver of sunrise.

“Yes, I would,” you say, quietly but so matter-of-fact he’s inclined to believe you.

Just then you spring into action, shoveling a small frog into your bucket with a victorious grunt. A few minutes later, he shuffled over to you and lowers his cupped palms into your bucket: three more frogs settle down into the center with a wet plop. You beam up at him, and it’s worth the early morning trouble to see you so happy and have you so close.

“So what do you plan on doing with these poor creatures once we’re done?”

You sit on the bank of the waterbed, sighing and setting the bucket beside you. He watches you from the water while you examine the small blob of darkness in the center of your palm. The bottom of the bucket is lined with croaking frogs, and the sun is well above the horizon, dousing the sky in soft pink and warm rose.

“I’m going to let them go.”

He lets out a sharp breath, hands falling to his sides, leaving streaks of mud down his tee shirt.

“You’re joking.”

You look up at him. You’re not joking.

“No,” he huffs. “You did not drag me out of my nice, warm bed to catch a million slimy frogs in the freezing cold dark just to let them go again.”

“Oh, but I did.” You’re crazy, he thinks. You’re crazy and it’s the most adorable thing he’s ever seen. Doesn’t make you any less crazy, though it might make him much less sane.

You set the frog down in the grass and leave the bucket tipped over. The small creatures immediately flood out from the splotchy tin opening into the newborn daylight and the crisp morning air. You stand and wipe your hands against each other a few times, scrunching your nose and finally meeting his eyes again.

“What’s wrong, trouble? Cat got your tongue?”

You grin.

“You know, one of these days, I’m going to say ‘no’ to you, and it’ll be a rude awakening.”

Fred walks past you like he’s really mad. Like it was an uncrossable line and you treated it like the tape at the end of a marathon. He’s hulking back towards the house when you grab his wrist to get his attention.

“What?”

But you don’t look sad. You don’t look pitiful or hurt. You look like you’re scheming, and it drives him crazy. As if he could ever say ‘no’ to you.

“You think I’m pretty,” you coo, batting your lashes just to get on his nerves. His breath hitches, and he feels warm despite the nipping cold of the morning.

“Unrelated.”

You drop his hand and cross your arms over your chest with a pout. He continues leisurely toward the burrow, tossing his gloves to the ground with a huff of hot air.

“Fred?” you call. And you sound worried, so he’s compelled to whip around. But when he does, he’s met with a rude awakening.

It was a misstep. A silly mistake, the wrong footing. Easily avoidable, and yet he didn’t avoid it. So he’s ass-first into a mud puddle with you shrieking in laughter about a meter away.

“You’re awful,” he grumbles, both hands propping him up and seeping into the thick mud as seconds tick by.

“I’m sorry! Freddie, I’m so sorry,” you cackle, taking a few steps toward him with tears of joy in your eyes. “But you should have seen your face!”

“Help me up,” he says, shaking his head and wiping his hand down his pajama pants before holding it outstretched to you. You grab it and tug enough to leverage him out of the muck. But he doesn’t budge. And in that moment, your eyes are filled with fear. Then, with one jolt, you topple down into the mud right beside him.

“Fred!”

“An eye for an eye, sugarplum.”

You push yourself up onto your hands to find your entire front is caked in mud, the mess narrowly avoiding your chin and above.

“You’re going to pay for that.”

“Oh, bring it on,” Fred teases.

You smirk just before a handful of mud is smeared across his chest by your slippery glove.

“Your move, trouble.”

He shakes his head and chuckles, looking down at the abstract art work fondly. But not quite fondly enough to hold himself back. His fingers dig into the puddle determinedly just before patting the top of your head with it like a stray dog. You squint your eyes closed and groan before peeking one eye open and coating his cheek in mud.

You make it to your feet and Fred hurls a ball of mud at your ass but he misses and it lands in the grass in front of you. You bolt around the back of the house, but he hurls a hunk towards your shoulder blade. You yelp and shout at him:

“You’re supposed to be a gentleman!”

“I’ll show you a gentleman, sweetheart,” he hollers it just before he catches up to you. You squeal and nearly slip on a slick patch of grass, but before you can leap out of his reach, he grabs your upper arm and presses you against the tree just behind your back.

“That’s not playing fair, Freddie, I’ve got nowhere to run,” you say, breathlessly grasping at the edge of his shirt with a tired smile. He chuckles and plants one palm against the bark beside your head, bringing the other hand to cup the side of your neck.

“You don’t need to run anywhere,” he mumbles, “just stay here.” The dried mud on the pad of his thumb draws a swipe of dirt down your cheek. Your fingers curl around his wrist and your lips part sweetly when he leans in.

“Time to come inside, you two! Breakfast is ready!”

Your eyes go wide when he leans his forehead against the tree with a grumbled curse.

“I suppose I am quite peckish!” you chirp, dragging him along behind you all the way to the front door. You leave your boots and gloves outside and brush some of the dried dirt from your pajamas.

You sit across from him at breakfast and catch him stealing glances at you every so often. With a mouth full of food, you wink at him with a dirt-smeared face and almost make him spit out his juice when you kick him under the table. George teases the two of you about wrestling in the mud while Molly scolds Fred about tracking it into the house.

…

Before long, you’re facing the final night of your stay. You’d been dreading the end since the beginning, and now that it’s here, you’re heartbroken. It’s been nothing but fun and you’ve never felt so wonderfully vulnerable with so many people around.

But the thing you’ll miss most is Fred. He could sense you pulling away the last couple of days. Trying to shield yourself from the impact of reality. No matter how hard he tried to cheer you up, he knew nothing could stop you thinking about how much packing up and leaving would hurt.

With your things splayed out across the floor of your temporary room, you had started packing hours ago but kept finding ways to distract yourself and avoid the idea of leaving altogether.

“Need any help?” Fred knocks on the doorframe, leaned against it and wearing the blue jumper you once told him he looked best in. You smile up at him from the floor.

“No,” you huff, “but some company would be nice.”

He perks up and shuffles around your belongings to plant himself on the edge of the bed. You had made the bed up nicely, tucked the duvet and set the pillows out nicely. He told you you didn’t have to, but you did it anyways.

After a few minutes of folding and refolding the same shirt, you stand from the floor and join him on the bed. He’s leaned back onto his elbows when he nudges your foot with his. You nudge him back but don’t turn to look at him. So he sits up and bumps you with his shoulder.

“I’m going to miss you,” he says, fussing with the edge of your shorts to distract himself, “Being here, I mean. As a part of our family.”

You smile down at his fiddling fingertips and inch closer, looking at him with this half-sad, half-happy look that has him confused and hopeless and head over heels and confused.

“I had a really, really nice time,” you whisper, leaning your head onto his shoulder and letting your eyes drift closed.

“So…”

You chuckle and smile to yourself, “So…?”

You sit up when the floor rattles a little, a thudding coming from the room below you. Then George shouts.

“Get it over with already!”

You both look at each other and giggle. Fred leans back again and you watch him tilt his head back and let out a sigh. His chest rises and falls beneath that damned blue sweater, and you trace your fingertips over his knuckles. He lifts his head and smiles cheekily at you, like he knows what’s going on inside your head. Like he has any idea. And for once, you think he might be pretty close.

You practically tackle him to the bed, smiling against his mouth when he cradles your face in one hand and rests the other on your waist where your shirt had ridden up from the ruckus.

You pepper soft kisses over his blushing face, leaving faintly glossy lip prints on his cheeks and nose and forehead and a stray one on the column of his neck. He goes slack against the bed, satisfied and content and happy all because of you. But still, he lazily opens his eyes and grins mischievously and says:

“Took you long enough.”

You smack your hand against his chest just hard enough to warn him.

“Oh, you’re trouble, Weasley.”

He cups your hand against his warm chest and his smile ebbs from mischief to something not as easily recognized. Something that makes him shy and pink thanks to the girl who likes the freckles across the bridge of his nose in the summer and his hands even when they’re covered in mud. Love that makes him much less sane for the girl who might just be crazy for loving him back.

And all of it makes him hold your hand and lean up to kiss you one more time.

masterlist

[maddieg0531]

Dog Whisperer

Oikawa x fem!reader

FLUUUUUUFF

Synopsis: In a failed attempt to walk your dog, you run into Oikawa who may just be able to fix your problem.

Warnings: Literally an overdose of fluff

A/N: Okay, so I originally got this idea when walking my lump of a dog Stella who is literally the worst dog to walk ever! Buuuuut then towards the end it really was just me indulging myself. Tbh I kept going past the ending, but I figured no one wanted to read that, so I stopped it for y'all. Anyway, enjoy! 😉

Masterlist

“Urrgh! Why won’t you move you stupid lump!?” You slowly walk backwards up the hill, while practically dragging your dog along. “You get so excited to go outside and then won’t move. I hate you!” Your dog stares at you as if she wasn’t the one who begged you to go on a walk. “Don’t look at me like that. You wanted to go on a walk. Now walk!” You grunt as you pull on her leash. She sits her fat butt down and refuses to move. You collapse on the ground ready to give up when you hear a snicker. You look over and see the most popular guy from your school, Oikawa Tooru (whom you didn’t realize lived a street over from you). 

“Need some help?” He says with a small laugh. 

You jump up, embarrassed, “Oh, uh, no. I mean…it’s just…my dog. She is a pain to take on a walk.” You scratch the back of your neck awkwardly. 

“I can see.” He walks up to your dog and pets her, as if she hasn’t caused you problems. “Hey sweet puppy.” Your dog perks up and wags her tail at his affection. “What’s her name?” 

“My name? You know she can’t respond right?” You look at him utterly confused. You thought he was smarter than this.

“I was asking you for the dogs name actually.” He says. 

It is in this moment that you want to be removed from the earth. “Right. Of course. Obviously. Why would you ask the dog for my name? Duh. I’m so dumb.” Your face is red as a tomato. You throw your hands up to hide yourself from the embarrassment. “Her name is Stella.” You say, muffled. 

Oikawa laughs, only furthering your embarrassment. He probably thinks you are an idiot. He is laughing at you, as he should, because you are so dumb. Even though he is laughing at you, his laugh is so light. It makes you feel warm and fuzzy on the inside, which only increases the redness of your face. 

“I’m so sorry. I am so dumb. I don’t know what is wrong with me. I’ll just leave you alone now.” You turn away, completely and utterly embarrassed. You try to walk away, but your stupid loaf of a dog doesn’t budge. You pull on her leash but she won’t leave Oikawa’s side. You crumble to your knees, letting your embarrassment take over. “I’m sorry. I must look like a complete idiot right now.” 

“I think it’s cute.” 

You turn to look at him. He’s kneeling next to Stella, looking at you with a soft smile. “Don’t patronize me.” You sigh. 

“I’m serious.” By the look in his eyes, you can tell he isn’t lying. Your heart starts beating faster the longer you look at him. “Here, why don’t I help you walk her, since she seems to like me.” He gets up and gives you his hand. You put your hand in his and he pulls you quicker than you expected. You are pulled flush against his chest. You look up at him, hoping he can’t feel how fast your heart is beating right now. “Unless you don’t want me to come.” He smirks. 

“Uh, no. I-I mean. Yes. That is, uh,” He lets out a small laugh at your rambling. “Yeah, sure” Your voice is higher pitched than you meant it to be. 

“Great.” He pulls away from you and you let out a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding. “Here, I can take her leash.” He grabs the leash from you and starts walking, Stella trotting along happily. 

You walk up beside him, “You don’t have to come, if you don’t want. Really, I can walk her.” 

“No, it’s fine. I love walking.” He smiles at you. His smile is like a warm ray of sun shining down on you. “Plus it looked like you needed some help.” 

You look away, embarrassed…again, “Well, uh, she just doesn’t like walking that much.” 

He looks down at Stella, who is happily walking beside him. You make a sour face at your dog putting up such a nice act around him. “She seems fine to me. Maybe she just doesn’t want you walking alone.” 

“Haha, maybe.” You say with an unnecessary voice crack.

You and Oikawa walk up the block and back. You don’t say much to each other, but it isn’t awkward. There is a comfortable silence settled between you two. As you approach his house, where you originally ran into each other, you feel a twinge of sadness. You like walking with him. Why does it have to be over so soon? 

You stop in front of his house, “I can walk her back the rest of the way. Thanks for the help. Sorry again for making a fool of myself.” You quickly turn and walk away. Stella, however, does not move. Her weight counteracts yours and pulls you back and you fall…right into Oikawa’s arms. You look up at him mortified for the millionth time today. 

“You sure you don’t need help?” He laughs and you feel it vibrate through his chest. It makes you feel safe and comforted. “Why don't I walk with you the rest of the way, yeah?” His brown eyes stare down at you, the sunlight hitting them just perfectly. Looking at him feels like swimming in a warm cup of hot chocolate. His fluffy brown hair falls perfectly in his face. You could get lost in this man's gaze for forever. “Uh, are we gonna walk back or are you just going to stay here for a while?” 

Your eyes widen, realizing he is still holding you in his arms. You jump up and clear your throat. “Right, yeah.” You start speed walking away.

“Wait for me, Y/N.” Oikawa walks up (which would normally be your jogging pace) next to you.

You look at him confused, “You know who I am?” 

“Of course I know who you are? Who wouldn’t know the prettiest girl in school.” 

You blush, “You must be thinking of the wrong person.” 

“Y/N Y/L/N. Sits in front of me in history. Comes to watch our practices every now and then. Sits alone at lunch. That is you, isn’t it?”

Your cheeks heat up, knowing that he knows so much about you. “I didn’t know anyone noticed me.” 

“Well, yeah. You’re hard to miss. Whenever you walk down the halls, I can smell your perfume. At lunch, you put in your ear pods and keep to yourself. Whenever someone talks to you , you have a kind smile and sweet tone. At our volleyball games, you cheer the loudest out of everyone or maybe I just pay more attention to your voice.” He says with all the suaveness in the world.

Your cheeks heat up with every word he says, “School spirit I guess.”

“Yeah, I guess.” You don’t dare look at him but you can hear the smile in his voice. 

“Why did you notice me. I mean out of everyone, I’m not that special.” 

“Of course you are.” He stops walking to face you. His eyes bare into yours. “I noticed you the moment we started school. Our first day, I had no idea where I was going. You helped me to find my class. I remember you were so nice to me. You had such a kind voice and soft smile. Later that year, we had to pair up with someone for class. People started pairing up left and right. I had a few people ask to pair up with me, but I noticed you sitting alone in the front of the class. I asked to be your partner and you flashed me that soft smile again. Whenever I talked to you, it felt genuine. You were one of the only people I could talk to and not feel like you were only interested in my looks or volleyball stuff. You just saw me for me. Ever since then, I noticed every little thing. Like how you mouth the words while reading a book. Or the way you draw on yourself when you get bored. Or how intently you watch our team at practice.”

You stare at him speechless. You didn’t realize how closely he payed attention. You never thought the way you talked to people was anything special. You just talk to him like you would anyone. Who knew that would make such an impact. 

“Why do you come to watch the team practice?” 

“Oh, uh. I don’t know.” You’ve never thought about it before. One day you were feeling super stressed from school, so you decided to leave the library and talk a walk. You passed the gym while they were practicing and got distracted. You sat through their entire practice and completely forgot about your stress. “I guess I like watching you play whenever I’m stressed, because it is sort of a stress reliever for me.”

“Oh, so you watch me specifically?” He says with a smirk. 

“Uh, I meant ‘you’ in a plural sense. Like the whole team. I mean I would be lying if I said you didn’t stand out but I mean who wouldn’t notice you. You are like really good and interesting to watch play, so I guess yeah, my attention is usually drawn to you, but I, uh, I’m rambling a lot aren’t I?” You look at him sheepishly. 

He laughs and leans his head on your shoulder with a sigh, “You always know how to make me laugh.” 

“Oh, uh. I-It’s not r-really intentional.” Your entire face heats up from the close contact. You don’t know what to do. 

He looks back up at you, his face 3 inches away from yours, “You are something else, you know that?” 

“Uh, I-uh.” Your voice is quieter than a mouse. You watch his eyes as they flick between your eyes and your lips. You start to lean in when Stella barks, scaring both of you. You jump apart and look away awkwardly. “Uh, anyway. My house is just around the corner, so uh, we should probably go before it gets too late.” 

“Yeah, I’ll walk you back.” 

You don’t speak the rest of the way, falling back into a comfortable silence. You stop when you reach your house, “Uh, this is me, so, I should go in.” You keep your eyes trained on the ground, unsure of what to do. 

Oikawa tilts your chin up to look at him, “You’re just gonna leave without a thank you?”

Your eyes widen. You snap up to look at him, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude, I just, well I’m not good with words and I didn’t mean to—“

Oikawa cuts you off by slamming his lips against yours. You stiffen up, shocked. He pulls away, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that without warning. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I’ll just go now.” 

He turns to leave but you pull him back and press your lips against his. Oikawa holds his arms around your waist, pulling you tighter into him. Your hands rest against his chest, griping his t-shirt. You have no idea what has gotten into you. You aren’t the type to spontaneously kiss the most popular, hottest guy at school. But you don’t dare stop yourself. This feels good. It feels right. With every second that passes by, you feel yourself filling with his warmth. The feel of his hands on your waist. The feel of his lips on yours. It’s like the final piece being put in a puzzle. Unfortunately, you have to break apart for air. You shove your face into his chest, trying to hide how bright red your cheeks are. He leans his head on top of yours. “Never pegged you as the type to be this bold.”

“And I never thought you would notice me, so I guess we’re full of surprises today.” You look up at him with a smirk. 

Oikawa leans down to press another kiss on your lips, “So you wanted me to notice you, huh?” He says with a smooth and sultry voice, his face so close to yours that your noses are touching.

You feel the heat creeping its way back up your neck, “Well, I mean I’d be lying if I said I never thought about it before. I mean, you are an attractive guy, who wouldn’t want you to notice them?”

He presses another kiss, spinning you around and dipping you down, “So you think I’m attractive?” 

You're flustered. Why does he have to be so flirty? “Well, I-I just said that didn’t I?”

“Hmmm, yeah, but I want to hear you say it again.” He smirks at you, knowing just what to say to make you blush. 

“Well, uh, Oikawa, I—“

“Call me Tooru. I think after kissing you four times now, we would be past formalities.”

You didn’t think your cheeks could flush any more but they do, “Uh, T-Tooru, I uh, well, you have nice eyes, I guess.”

He pulls you back up, still holding you flush against him, “Do I now? Nothing could compare to the beautiful shine in your eyes.”

“S-Shut up.” You lightly hit him on the chest, doing everything to avoid eye contact.

“What else is nice about me?” He asks, slowly walking towards your door with you still in his arms. 

“Um, well, your hair is pretty.” You stammer.

“Hmm, not as pretty as yours. What else?” 

You spin around to unlock your front door, but he still holds you from behind, head leaning on your shoulder. “Your voice is smooth, like butter.” You say, less flustered.

“If my voice is smooth as butter, yours is sweet like honey. Softer than pure silk. What else do you like about me?” He spins you to face him and picks you up, carrying you inside.

“You are really nice.” You smile wrapping your arms around him. 

“I am nothing compared to your pure kindness.” He says, kissing you again. “What else?”

As he carries you inside, you keep going down the list, with each of your compliments being out done by him; a kiss accompanying each one. You get lost in each others presence, while poor Stella trudges inside, forgotten. 

[bias-for-elias]

may i have a bit of a silly fluff HC of both Sebastian and Ominis flirting with their crush who's utterly oblivious to their flirting, please?

Headcannons for Ominis and Sebastian flirting with an oblivious reader

Sebastian Sallow x reader; Ominis Gaunt x reader;

Warnings - none

Ominis

he would think that of course, he must be doing something wrong

he was old-fashioned and knew things were changing, people were more up front now it seemed

so maybe he wasn't being straight-forward enough

he asks Sebastian for advice and rebuffs his suggestions

but Sebastian tells him he thinks you're just oblivious because it's very apparent Ominis treats you special

it may not be in the bold and brash approach Sebastian takes, but it's in tenderly addressed owls

and special trips to Hogsmeade even during his least favorite events

he would decide to try and switch his tactics and that's when you'd finally say something

from how strange he was acting, talking like Sebastian and it really made you laugh

he would confess to you with bright red cheeks, looking a bit miffed from your reaction

"Y/N, I'm trying to let you know I'm interested in you. Romantically. If you're not, you don't need to laugh at me. It's my fault for attempting to court you."

when you looked at him completely stunned you would also become hot and stutter over your words, trying to explain you did reciprocate his feelings

Sebastian

he is completely baffled

he's always been fairly forward when he's interested in someone

so he can't understand how you're not picking up his not-so-subtle hints

he's frustrated at first, thinking you must not reciprocate his feelings and that had to be why you just ignored him

until he realizes you do react to his compliments, you always blush and look away from him

never appearing angry or upset

so finally he decides to outright ask you what you feel when he says such flirtatious things to you

you're put on the spot and feel embarrassed to admit you enjoy his attention, but you assumed he was like this with everyone

he about loses his mind on the spot and plants a heated kiss on your lips before pulling away

"Have you ever seen me do that to Ominis? I didn't think so. Merlin you had me losing my mind."

[arthenaa]

It's a Muggle Thing - Sebastian Sallow x Fem! Reader

Plot Summary: Going home for the holidays, the boys decided to come with Nora to her hometown. Sebastian just didn't expect to find an interesting muggle there

content tags: muggle! reader, reader is not mc, silver trio graduated already <3, reader is an artist teehee, mc is named nora finley and is a half blood, mc grew up in a muggle environment, reader is nora's friend, sebastian and mc are aurors and often partnered up together, ominis is a professor at hogwarts, mc has a romantic fling w poppy sweeting rawr rawr i love them, seb falls too fast, mentions of sex at the end but its not rlly the actual thing haha, she/her pronouns and fem terms are used.

A/N: just imagine seb wearing that suit as an auror. im frothing on the mouth

"You're taking a leave?"

Sebastian places his hand on his hips as he watches his partner pack up her things for the day. His bestfriend of 7 years, deemed Hero of Hogwarts, and set for an upcoming promotion as Head Auror of the British Ministry of Magic, Nora Finley, looks back at him with a grin.

"Yep. Why are you acting surprised? I told you about this like weeks ago." She chuckles as she closes up her suitcase, propping it up on her desk before turning to him. Sebastian looks at her with a confused look as he pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue.

After the eventful days of their years as students in Hogwarts, the two had ended up working as aurors for the ministry. Nora was immediately given a position due to her great efforts in preventing another wizarding war and Sebastian was accepted with his great battle knowledge in the dark arts. Ominis however had opted to remain in the halls of the great castle but now as a professor teaching potions (quite comical actually given that Ominis spent most of his time in potions class fumbling over ingredients and messing up potions as easy as a wiggenweld).

The trio had been doing their best in remaining contact with each other (well more of like trying to stay in contact with Ominis), telling tales about their recent accomplishments, funny stories to share and any other details regarding their lives. Their most recent one being Sebastian and Nora's great accomplishment in capturing yet another dark wizard who had tried to harm numerous muggles. Luckily enough, the situation hadn't exploded enough to obliviate a whole town. Sebastian had been expecting to have a small trio reunion to celebrate the accomplishment but now he's been feeling betrayed that Nora had gone ahead and requested a leave for a week.

"Did you really?" He raised his eyebrow, accusingly. Nora shakes her head in amusement.

"I did, Seb. You were probably too busy flaunting your physique to Yaxley at the ball." She teases as she grabs her case before walking to grab her coat. "I think it's quite adorable when you do that. It's like seeing two tiny tiny crups fighting."

Sebastian blushes before rolling his eyes. He watches Nora grab her coat before putting it on. "What about our celebration? I thought we we're going out for a drink!"

Nora shrugs as she puts it on and fixes her clothes. "Too bad. My mother has been requesting my presence, and this leave is the perfect time for me to visit. You can drink with Ominis, though!"

The brunette strengthened his resolve as he followed the witch out of their office and into the halls of the ministry. "I think this is totally unfair. Ominis was begging in the letters for us to get together! I think he's going bonkers with the amount of time he spends with children."

Nora laughs as she nods at a co-worker who passes by them. "That wasn't what he said, Seb. Ominis will be outraged when he finds out you overexaggerate his letters."

"I overexaggerate his letters because he can't say shit to you. He thinks you'll think of him as weak or something." Sebastian argues as they reach the elevator. Nora pulls out her wand, flicking her wrist as the tip of the wand lights up. She then pulls it away as the doors of the elevator open in front of her.

"I don't think of him as weak. I'd die if I was told to handle first years." She sighs before stepping inside the elevator. The house elf managing the elevator gives her a nod, to which she responds with a nod as well.

"Hello, Hank. Ground floor, please." She replies with a smile. Hank only grunts as he flicks his wand to lead the moving platform. She then turns to Sebastian, who looks at her with a frustrated look. "Please don't make too much trouble while I'm gone, okay?"

The wizard doesn't reply for a moment as he watches the doors close. At the last moment, he squeezes his way through, and Nora lets out a yelp of surprise. "Sebastian what—"

"Let us come with you." He grabs her shoulders. Nora raises her eyebrows in surprise. He takes a breath before glancing at the house elf, who gives him a disappointed tsk. He looks back at Nora, who looks at him expecting. "I mean, me and Ominis talked about learning more about you. You've gone to my house and Ominis basically told you about his family so why not let us come with you?"

Nora stares at him for a while before smiling. "Alright cowboy. Don't regret saying yes to this if things go south alright?"

Well, Sebastian could definitely handle it. He thinks. He knows Nora's mother is a muggle and she spent her young days in a muggle environment. It'll be a culture shock for sure but Anne and him had been somewhat exposed to muggle culture. He had books of muggle authors, tasted some of their sweets and even communicated with them for an investigation.

Surely, this will be a piece of cake.

"You said what?!"

Ominis yelled to which Sebastian tried to cover his mouth with his hands. The blonde slaps his hands away rather harshly. Sebastian lets out a yelp of pain before biting his lip to avoid attracting more attention. He had apparated to Hogwarts to visit his old friend and inform him of his talk with Nora. The two stood outside the castle where the garden is. He sees some students send a concerned glance at them as they hesitantly greet Ominis who only waves them off with a hand.

"I need you to lower your voice, Ominis." Sebastian murmurs lowly as he slips his hands in the pockets of his coat. Ominis shakes his head as he crosses his arms.

"Why should I do that? I'm a figure of authority here now, Sebastian. We're not students anymore." Ominis retorts.

"I'm not talking about that! I just don't want your students to see me as some guy harassing their professor. As if I don't get any bad reputation at the ministry." He scoffs as he kicks a pebble on the stone steps.

"Maybe they should. You're literally telling me that I have to go on a one week trip when I have priorities to attend to." Ominis glares at the direction of his voice. Sebastian smiles sheepishly. He had said it out of panic. He didn't want to be alone for the week, and he certainly didn't want to come with Nora alone in a muggle environment even though he told himself it would be a piece of cake.

It sucks being a hypocrite.

"C'mon! It's just for a week. Merlin knows you need a break, Professor Gaunt." He nudges Ominis with his elbow playful. The Potions professor scoffs as he moves away from him.

"Your tomfoolery might've worked on me before, but I've matured. My point still stands." Ominis turns his head away as an act of defiance. Sebastian just smiles softly as his friend. He looks more like a kid who doesn't want to take his vegetables.

"I think Mr. Sallow might be correct on this one." A familiar voice had intercepted their conversation. Ominis lets out a sigh as he drops his arms. Sebastian lights up at her entrance.

"Professor Onai." He bows slightly as a sign of respect. The divination professor only raises her hand to stop him.

"Oh no, no. Please, call me Mudiwa. You're not a student anymore, Mr. Sallow." Professor Onai smiles softly. Sebastian nods at her words.

"Then please, Sebastian is fine."

"I overheard the students mentioning a strange man harassing our beloved professor, so I just had to make sure if I needed to do any saving." Mudiwa jokes as she stands between the two. Ominis rolls his eyes.

"No damsel in distress here." Ominis sarcastically replies.

"That I see. It's an overworked one, I do know." Mudiwa glances at Sebastian, who nods in agreement. Ominis shakes his head, sensing the budding cooperation between the teacher and former student.

"I will not let you make Professor Onai your accomplice, Sebastian. I will not be swayed." Ominis's eyebrows furrow in annoyance. Sebastian only grins at this.

"Who said about anyone being an accomplice? I originally came here to tell you that Professor Weasley is granting you a week's leave." Professor Onai pats his shoulder. "She'll be taking over for your classes given that a new teacher for transfiguration has been assigned."

Ominis's face drops at the new information. Sebastian then giggles into his hand. He turns his head fast towards the direction of his voice. "Did you do this?! Did you really have to contact Professor Weasley knowing I wouldn't agree?!"

Sebastian walks down the steps before shrugging his shoulders. "Eh, perks of being her favorite, I guess."

"You little shit."

"That I am!"

Professor Onai only laughs loudly at the interaction.

The three had apparated to Nora's town much to Ominis's chagrin. After getting smacked in the head multiple times by the young Gaunt, the two had decided that this would be the best time to learn more about their dearest friend, Nora, as well as the muggle community.

Sebastian knows that her closest family knew about her identity as a witch, so it makes Sebastian a little relieved that he wouldn't have to hide his magic, at least inside the comfort of Nora's home.

"We're almost there." Nora says as she leads the three of them through a village. Sebastian glances around, arm intertwined with Ominis, given that he had to hide his wand for now due to muggles. He had his walking stick, but to be honest, using Sebastian as a walker seems much more fun with all the shit he put up with.

Nora then stops at a house with a blue gate before turning to the two and waving them over. She opens it with ease and rushes over to knock on the door. Sebastian pulls Ominis to a stop before dropping his luggage on the ground.

The door opens to reveal an old looking woman who at first squints her eyes before screaming enthusiastically. She pulls Nora into a hug as they jump in each other's arm in joy.

"How wonderful! This is such a pleasant surprise!" The woman or assumed as Mrs. Finley smiles lovingly at her daughter, who holds her hands tightly within hers.

"You know I had to come home, mama." Nora laughs softly before pressing a kiss on her cheek. She then moves to the side to present her companions. "I have guests with me."

"Oh! Come in! We can exchange pleasantries inside. You must be tired from your journey." Mrs. Finley motions for them to come in. Sebastians smiles at the warm greeting as he takes his case and moves inside. Ominis had taken out his wand, knowing that he's safe to use it and walks inside as well.

The auror takes a look around, scanning the interior of his best friend's home. Mrs. Finley excitedly frets over them as she helps them out of their coats and gently moves them to sit on the couch.

"Do tell me about your friends, darling!" She warmly smiles as she sits down on the couch in front of them. Nora laughs at her mother's enthusiasm, and so she introduces the two. Mrs. Finley was a wonderful host. She told stories of Nora when she was young, which the two graciously enjoyed. She talked and asked about the wizarding world and revealed that when she had met Nora's father, who had tragically passed due to his work as an auror that frequents in the front lines, magic was one of the reasons that they had met so she kind of expected that her daughter would one day be exposed to the world of her father. She admits that she's also glad Nora made more friends. The only one she met was her girlfriend, Poppy Sweeting, who had come over once to be introduced. "What an absolute sweetheart," she says.

As Sebastian continues to listen in on the conversation, his eyes glance towards the artwork hanging on the wall, above the couch where Mrs. Finley sat. His curiousity gets the better of him. "The art looks marvelous. Was this curated from a famous muggle artist?"

Mrs. Finley looks back and up at the canvas. Nora answers for her. "Oh, that? That's made by Y/N. A friend of mine."

"Is she a famous muggle artist? What does the artwork look like?" Ominis joins in on the conversation. Sebastians leans close to him to describe the piece. The young Gaunt nods in understanding.

"She is, I believe? She gets her art curated on exhibits." Mrs. Finley smiles proudly. "She's going to be here tomorrow. We have a debut to go to. I hope you brought fancy clothes?"

Ominis purses his lips. "I didn't, but I suppose it's nothing a bit of magic can't fix. A certain someone had me rushing my way over here."

Sebastian coughs into his hand before smiling at Mrs. Finley. "Don't worry, we'll manage."

The party was loud. Too much even.

This debut that they had gone to was of a daughter of a neighbor close to Nora's family, and apparently, most neighbors in the village were pretty close with one another. Sebastian almost felt out of place if it weren't for Ominis clinging to his arm.

"Stupid walking stick. If only I could just use my wand. Why do I have to suffer this way." Ominis grunts as he taps the floor with the object of his frustrations. Sebastian wraps his arm around his shoulders.

"You have me here. Consider this a once in a lifetime opportunity of making me your personal walker." Sebastian jokes. Ominis smiles at his offer.

"I might just make that permanent from all the headache you gave me."

"Please don't."

"You guys! Stop sulking in the corner and come over here." Nora calls them over as she chats with an unfamiliar face. A pretty unfamiliar face, Sebastian thinks as he moves closer with Ominis in tow. "This is Y/N. I was talking about your art to them last night. They were pretty impressed by it."

Y/N. Y/N. Pretty name.

"I'm Sebastian Sallow. This is Ominis Gaunt." The brunette smiles boyishly as he extends his hand for a handshake. The young woman raises her eyebrows in amusement before shaking her hand as well.

"Didn't know your friends at your new school was this handsome." She teases to which Nora rolls her eyes. Sebastian holds eye contact with her for a few seconds before he looks down at his feet due to nervousness.

"Whatever. Ominis! Come with me. I'm going to give gifts to the debutante." Nora grabs Ominis, who lets himself be dragged across the room.

"Still quite the troublemaker, isn't she?" the artist beside him breaks the silence. He almost ignores her, not believing that the question was directed towards him. He's going dumb.

"Yeah. A pain on the ass sometimes but workable." Sebastian scrunches his nose in contemplation. Y/N laughs.

"What do you do for work, Sebastian?" She asks as she moves closer to him, hand twirling the champagne she's holding.

"... Law .... enforcement?" Sebastian raises his eyebrow as he tries to find a perfect substitution to explain what an auror is. Y/N nods in amusement.

"So a police officer?"

"More like detective, I guess."

"Sexy." Y/N winks as she takes a sip of her drink. "I take that Nora is also in law enforcement? The gal barely tells me anything ever since she transferred. I'd get the truth out someday."

"Good luck with that. Nora is one secretive bastard." Sebastian chuckles as he shoves his hands in his pockets. The woman stares at him for a good moment to which he responds with a raised eyebrow.

"That forward?" He teases. She only rolls her eyes at him.

"I'm just doing things you're scared to do, Mr. Sallow." She purrs before setting her champagne down and moving to the dance floor. "Dance with me!"

Sebastian had never seen someone look and dance so messily but beautiful. Balls like this in the wizarding world were often done in elegance and proper etiquette, but seeing someone let loose and move haphazardly across the dance floor was somewhat comforting and fun to watch to.

"Sebastian!" She giggles. The auror smiles before shuffling towards her. They continue to dance together, riding the rhythm and basking in each other's presence.

"And... done!"

The artist turns her canvas around to show Sebastian a new art piece she came up with. The two had progressed to a finer level of friendship. He had gained the privilege of seeing her pre-curated work before it would be released to the public. He considers it his greatest achievement for now. He admires the piece before the woman sets it down to dry.

"I'm really actually amazed by how good you are. I suppose I'd want to have one as well." Sebastia ponders off as he crosses his legs on the couch, elbow on his knee, and chin on his palm. "Might look good in my office."

"You'd probably think too much of me if you set it in your office."

Did Sebastian mention they're flirting more now?

He doesn't know what happened, but all he knows is one second he's dancing and the next he's thinking about her day and night.

He has deduced that this woman is amazing.

He fails to notice Y/N pulls out another canvas before she starts painting. He tries to move, but a hand is held up to stop him. "Stop. Don't move."

"... Right." He mumbles as he settles in a comfortable position. He watches her eyes glance up to him as her brush moves elegantly on the canvas.

During his days in Nora's muggle home, he hadn't expected befriending her childhood friend, Y/N Y/L/N, who is gifted in the field of arts. The muggle had been with them ever since the party, and Sebastian thoroughly enjoyed her presence. It seemed that Nora and Ominis caught on as they tried to give you two as much alone time as possible (Ominis would smirk at him and pat his back like a job well a done. Sebastian wishes he could jinx that smirk out of his face).

He learned more about their community as well. It was nice experiencing stuff without magic that can easily be done by it. Mrs. Finley is a sweetheart and have done nothing but be generous towards them. Sebastian supposes this could be the best week of his life.

"Penny, for your thoughts?" A soft voice breaks him out of his reverie. He glances up at Y/N, who had now paused her painting to look at him with a concerned smile.

"Ah, just thinking how much this week has been amazing." He gives her a lopsided smile as he fiddles with his fingers. "This was just decided on a whim. I'm glad I went here."

Y/N nods in understanding before standing up from her position. "Well, if it's worth anything, I'm glad you did. Wouldn't have met such a wondrous subject for a portrait."

Both of them laugh at her teasing. Y/N walks towards him, to which he holds his hand out. The artist grabs his hand and stands in front of him, looking down at him with a soft look.

"Beautiful." Sebastian mutters as he scans her features. "Have I ever told you that?"

She giggles into her hand. "Well, romances don't exactly work that fast within 4 days."

Sebastian shakes his head playfully. "Cheeky."

The muggle leans down to lessen the distance between them. Sebastian falls silent as he now has a front view to the beautiful woman in front of him. His hands sweat with nervousness.

"But I'd like to try it out." She whispers as she sends him a playful grin before tapping his nose with her index finger. Sebastian lets out an amused breath as he watches the artist flutter around in her studio.

She's gonna be the death of him.

Their joyous one week leave was coming to an end, and Sebastian couldn't help but feel sad about it. He had come to really enjoy his time here, and judging by Ominis's pleased face as he drinks his muggle beer, he too had enjoyed this vacation. Mrs. Finley had suggested having drinks on their final day before they had to depart tomorrow afternoon. A bad decision, really, but who denies that opportunity?

Nursing a beer on his hand, he takes a swig before glancing at Nora who had been reading a letter with a giddy smile. "From Poppy, I assume?"

Nora glances at him with a raised eyebrow. "Mind your business."

"That's not gonna stop me." He leans close to her, trying to get a glimpse of her letter. Nora leans back, shielding it from his curious eyes. "C'mon, what'd it say?"

"She's in America right now." Nora lets out an exasperated sigh. "She got her hands full with a Thunderbird."

Ominis perks up at the mention of the animal. "Ooh, I've always wanted to meet one."

"Being a magizoologist seems quite fun." Sebastian leans back against his chair. "It's the traveling I'm quite jealous of."

"You'd suck as magizoologist. Give it up." Ominis retorts. Sebastian gives him a punch on the shoulder, to which he laughs. The young Gaunt takes a sip of his beer. "This beer is amazing, by the way."

"Right? I'd never get tired of it." Nora smiles as she takes a drink of her own. She then leans forward to give the auror a teasing look. "But now, I'd rather talk about you and Y/N."

At the mention of her muggle friend, Ominis leans forward as well, interested in the conversation. Sebastian grunts in annoyance. "Why should I tell you both shit?"

"Rude. We're your best friends." Nora pouts as she leans her head on Ominis's shoulder.

"She's wonderful, if that's what you're asking." He sighs, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "Quite talented as well."

"Mhm." Nora hums before moving close to loudly whisper in Ominis's ear. "He's got a crush."

"I do not!" Sebastian argues as he smacks Nora's knee. The young witch lets out a loud laugh.

"Wizards who lie end up in Azkaban, Seb."

"I'd get put in Azkaban for killing your smartass, for sure."

"But I know she's your type. I could basically sense the attraction out of you." Ominis teases. Sebastian shakes his head at his best friends, who continue to tease and poke fun of him.

"Sebastian!" A voice calls him over. It's Y/N.

"Your future wife's calling. Better go to her." Nora smacks his back in encouragement. He gives her his beer before flipping her off as he stands up. He then turns to Ominis and verbally communicates his message.

"Fuck you."

"Yeah, yeah."

He runs towards the person of his interests, smiling as she grabs his hand and pulls him to a secluded part of Nora's home. He sees one of her hands tucked behind her.

"What's up?" He smiles. Y/N shyly moves in her spot before biting her lip.

"Remember that portrait I did? Well, I finished it and it's your last day so consider it a gift." She mumbles before moving her hand from her back to reveal a neatly painted piece. He marvels at the work of art, amazed by how similar the portrait is to his face.

"This... This is wonderful, Y/N." He lets out a chuckle of excitement, smile reaching ear to ear. The artist only revels in his enthusiasm. "Thank you."

"No, thank you for being a dear these past few days. I hadn't met someone and hit it off with them that fast." She chuckles. Sebastian looks at her with an unreadable look. "Consider this a memento for our friendship."

"You make it sound like we'd never meet again." He mumbles as he moves close towards her. She raises her chin in amusement.

"Well, will we?" She raises her hands to dust off any lint on his clothes, which was just an excuse to place her hands on his chest.

"I'll make sure of it." Sebastian smiles. "You said you'd try, remember?"

At the repeat of her words, she lets out a giggle. She then leans close to him. "Is it bad to kiss you this early?"

Sebastian's eyes focus on her lips as he pulls her close with his free hand. "Eh, probably."

She grins as she leans closer. "You probably don't care."

"Just shut up and kiss me." He sighs. The young woman laughs before pulling his collar to give him a firm kiss on his lips.

Something so fast had never felt so right. Maybe it's just a muggle thing.

"5 galleons they're snogging." Ominis takes a drink of his beer. Nora scoffs.

"10 galleons they're fucking." Nora ups her bet. Ominis gives her a look of disgust.

"Too crass, Nora."

"Yeah, well, I'd like to get my 10 galleons soon. I'd bet my fucking life Sebastian will get fucked." She smirks into her drink.

"You're disgusting."

"Thanks, I take pride in it."

A/N: anotha one. SORRY FOR THE LATE POST. i said id post 2 fics but this took longer than i expected. not too proud of this one but it's okay i guess. THANK U SO MUCH FOR THE LOVE ON MY PAST FEW WORKS <333 didnt think it would blow up. have a great day yall!!

[amhrosina]

To Be Loved (Namor x f!Reader)

MASTERLIST // JOIN MY TAGLIST

A/N: I read a Druig fic with this concept like a year ago and it’s stuck with me since then. However, I’ve searched through an entire year’s worth of tumblr fics & ao3 bookmarks, and I still can’t find it. If you know who came up with this concept, PLEASE tag them or let me know! I would like to credit them for the idea! Also, I can’t stop writing Namor (and I won’t, I love that man so much).

Update: A very kind soul found the fic that inspired this one and sent me their @! It was @itsapeterthing who originally wrote this concept and you should definitely check the Druig fic out!

Summary: Reader is an Eternal (you don’t have to know the movie to understand the fic) who can time travel. We follow her as she visits her lover, Namor, in different stages of his life over a 500-year time period. 

(Warnings: no big ones, some descriptions of war I guess?, soft!Namor, this is pure fluff like I somehow made myself fall more in love with him writing this??) 

Translations: 

in yakunaj – my love 

pixan – my soul 

ki'ichpanech – pretty girl 

Namor was being watched, though he didn’t know it yet. As he stood on the outskirts of his mother’s homeland, holding his mother’s body in his arms, the beauty of her memories was tarnished, ripped to shreds by slavers with whips and hatred in their hearts. Namor was a boy of ten and two, barely old enough to grasp the responsibilities he’d inherited in his birth, but strong enough already to understand the gravity of the situation in front of him.  

The hatred that burned in his heart mirrored the flames he’d set to his mother’s homelands, his homeland, which had become a falsity so grand that he could no longer contain the rage within him. It was a wound that wouldn’t heal, a festering cesspool of a memory that would play in his mind for years afterwards. This day would go down in his people’s history as the day the boy-king became a man. 

From a young age, laying his mother to rest was something Namor knew he was going to have to do, but no amount of time could have prepared him for the overwhelming heartbreak he felt as he laid her down in her final resting place. He remained by her side, content to sit with her body for as long as he pleased, but he knew he would eventually have to return to Talokan.  

All the while, an unfamiliar set of eyes peeked at him through the brush. You would not reveal yourself to him, not quite yet. This moment, as important as it was to Namor’s moral compass and the man he would grow to be, was not a moment you felt the need to share with him. You had travelled through time and space to be here, at present-day Namor’s request, and you would not interfere with this moment.  

The young Namor, the one that was blissfully unaware of your presence, knelt down and whispered his last goodbyes to the woman who raised him. You remained in your kneeling position amongst the greenery, unwilling to move until you were sure Namor had gone. When the last of his people returned to the sea, you stood, shaking the ache from your knees.  

You tapped into your power, the warm hum traveling through your body as you focused on returning to the present, to your home where Namor was likely waiting for you. It was only a snap of your fingers, a quick blink of your eyes, and suddenly you were in familiar territory again.  

The walls around you were filled to the brim with Namor’s art, painted over the centuries. They told the story of him, showcasing different memories that he deemed important. The first one, the one you’d just returned from visiting, was a small painting of his mother, lying in her shallow grave.  

“How was it, my love?” Namor’s voice carried from the above water chambers you shared, his voice so warm and deep that he might as well have been standing right next to you.  

You peeked your head around the corner, spying his relaxed form in his favorite armchair. You had spent hours there, wrapped in his warm embrace. It was your favorite place to be, too.  

You scurried forward, eager to take your designated spot in his lap. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his protective hold. You looked down at him, placing a soft kiss on his brow before cupping his cheeks.  

“It was informative, my King. I can see why you were so angry when we met.” You stroked his cheeks with your thumbs in an attempt to soothe the ache.  

“I spent many years after that day consumed with vengeance. It was only when I met you that I learned I still had the capacity to love.”  

“I’m sorry, my love, for the hurt humans have caused your people throughout the years.” You winced at the thought of Namor consumed by anything but love. 

“Don’t apologize, in yakunaj. You will see the man I became to protect my people, and you will see me as my enemies saw me. I did not know mercy for a very long time, and I fear you will not like the man I thought I had to be.” 

“I will always love you, K’uk’ulkan. Nothing,” you gripped his jaw for emphasis, “will ever change that.”  

Namor gripped your hand, pressing his lips into your knuckles. “I am undeserving of it, but I will accept it anyways, pixan. I am greedy like that.”  

He smiled, and your heart warmed at the sight. At one point, it had been decades since a smile had graced his beautiful face, so you always cherished the smiles he sent you, even if you got to see it all the time now. 

“Where am I going next?” You asked, glancing at the wall of art.  

“To our favorite place to hide away, before it was ours.” He nodded to a small, somewhat hidden section of the wall that had always been one of your favorites. You grinned in response. 

- 

Namor looked over the landscape in front of him, a little envious of the humans that got to see it every day. The view his hiding spot offered was a spectacular array of gold and red, surrounded by lakes and rivers, and if he didn’t have a million things waiting for him back at home, he might want to appreciate it more. The sea was his home, but he couldn’t help the desire to explore the surface every once in a while.  

Home. The empire he had built with his bare hands. Hidden from the world, protected from human interference. Namor was proud of his people and what they had achieved, but he had spent so many years fueled by anger that he feared he may have forgotten the beauty of living along the way. He was lonely, and he could not let this weakness lead his people into their graves. This hiding place was a respite from all of that, but the loneliness tended to follow him here.  

A sharp buzzing interrupted his thoughts, and he swung around, ready to defend himself. A being, no – a woman, stepped into the clearing. Namor studied her. A human? No. He could feel the power drumming in her veins, and he tried to make sense of her human-looking face. A threat? Maybe.  

You raised your hands in an innocent gesture. “I’m not here to hurt you.” 

Namor couldn’t stop the chuckle from leaving his throat. No one, no one, could hurt him.  

“Who are you?” He pointed his spear at your heart, ready to drive it deep in your chest at the slightest movement.  

You murmured your name. “We’ve met before.” 

“I think I would remember meeting you.” His brow furrowed. 

“Not yet, I mean. It won’t happen for another few centuries.” 

Namor’s confusion grew, and you reached towards your sleeve, rolling it up a few inches. The bracelet Namor had given you was tied around your wrist, and you held it up for his inspection. He balked. That was his mother’s bracelet, and he knew for a fact that it was tucked away in a safe space, miles under the sea.  

“You gave it to me a few years ago. You sent me here, K’uk’ulkan, many years in the future. It’s hard to explain.” You scratched the back of your neck. “The paintings on your cavern walls tell a story, and he, you, wanted me to experience them with him, er, you. Is this making any sense?”  

Namor eyed you carefully but lowered his spear.  

“I feel your power, deep in here,” he gestured to his chest, “but I do not understand it. It’s different from mine.”  

You smiled and lifted your hand, allowing a tiny sliver of your power to form into a ball in your palm. A stark yellow lit the clearing. The orb pulsed with power, and Namor took a step forward. Present-day Namor was also enamored with the way your power manifested and loved watching you create different shapes with it in your palm.  

Namor stepped closer, watching the orb float in the space above your hand.  

“How?” He asked, flicking his gaze up at you.  

“You will understand it, one day, in yakunaj.” You fell into your natural pattern with him, even though the man standing in front of you was centuries away from the man you knew and loved.  

Namor startled at your ability to speak his language so easily, and then inhaled sharply when he realized what you had just called him. He knew he should’ve been hightailing it home by now. This display of power could mean trouble for his people, and it was his duty to protect them, but the gentle caress of your power in his chest rooted him to the spot. His curiosity always did get the best of him.  

“You speak my language?” He asked in his mother tongue, too enthralled with you to worry about the rules he was breaking by doing so.  

You nodded, watching as the power faded back into your hand. “I know many languages.” 

“We are...together in your time?” He asked, looking over you again.  

“Yes. We are bonded, though that probably doesn’t mean anything to you right now. It will, one day.” You paused. “I must return to my time.” You gestured towards the forest, even though you didn’t technically have to move your body anywhere to jump forward in time.  

“Will I see you again? Before we officially meet?” He asked, taking a step closer to you.  

“Would you like to see me again?” You returned, tilting your head curiously.  

“Yes.” Namor said bluntly.  

“Then you will see me again, in yakunaj.” 

In a flash, you were gone, and Namor spent a long moment staring at the spot you had been standing in moments before. He wondered how long he would have to wait to see you again and hoped it wouldn’t be too long of a wait. 

- 

Namor waited decades for you, searching for you in every face he came across. His cousin and closest confidante, Namora, didn’t miss the excitement buzzing under his skin every time he had to leave for the surface. He finally told her of your existence after years of holding the secret close to his heart. She was cautious, warning him of the surface dweller’s wrongdoings, but he couldn’t think of you in the same way that he thought of them. You were different, gentler, and he spent the vast majority of his free time thinking about you.  

The night that you finally reappeared was a night of celebration for his people. It was Winter Solstice – the one night of the year that his people freely travelled between the sea and the sand. It was always a huge party, but he had spent the majority of it stewing in his longing for you. He had almost convinced himself you were a dream of his when you appeared. 

You stood towards the back of the crowd, looking up at the stars. Namor’s heart thundered in his chest as he approached you, unsure of what to say to the person he had spent the last 80 years of his life longing to see. Fortunately, you spoke first, and he wondered if it was possible to fall in love with someone after only meeting them once.  

“There are so many stars here. The doesn't look like this anymore, where I’m from. The surface dwellers have many flaws, and I think that is probably their worst transgression.” 

Namor said the only thing that he could think of in response.  

“I missed you.”  

You smiled bashfully, turning to look at him for the first time in 80 years.  

“I know. Thank you for being patient, in yakunaj. I go where he sends me, and there is always a good reason for it.” 

“Is he...like me? I mean, are we the same, or do you see us as different people?”  

“That is a hard question. You are the same Namor I know, but you are also different. At your core, though, you are the same man that I love in my time.” 

You looked back at the sky, shifting your body to stand next to his. A somber expression formed on your face, and he couldn’t help but brush the back of his hand against yours.  

“What is it, ki'ichpanech?”  

“I want you to enjoy this night, in yakunaj, because you will not have another one this easy for a very long time.” 

A cold chill ran down Namor’s spine. The conviction in which you spoke left little room for denial, and he could not ignore the uneasy feeling building in his stomach.  

“What do you mean?” He finally asked, breathing deeply. 

“I mean,” you paused, linking your pinky in his, “he chose this moment for me to visit for a reason. I cannot tell you details, because even I do not know them, but you will have to face an unimaginable threat, and it will be very hard for you. I will not return until after the carnage, and I want you to enjoy tonight, because you will have a hard time enjoying anything for many years afterwards.” 

He looked out into the sea, processing your warning. He wasn’t aware of any threats to his people, but the pleading look in your eyes told him he would soon face horrors, maybe outright war.  

“How long will it be before I see you again?” He asked, taking your hand in his and lightly squeezing it.  

“Do not worry about such trivial things, in yakunaj. Everything will right itself in time.” 

Your tone left no room for argument, not that Namor would want to argue with you anyways. You tugged him further away from the crowd, turning to face him after the darkness had blanketed you from the light of the party. You rested your palms on his cheeks, pulling his forehead down and pressing it against yours.  

“Be strong, my King. You will be pushed beyond what you believe your strength to be, but do not let that break you. You are a force to be reckoned with, and you will do anything to protect your people. Remember your strength, and above all, remember that there is love in your heart, even if you cannot feel it yet.”  

You pushed your lips against his in a chaste motion. It was over before it had even begun, and when Namor opened his eyes, you were gone. Namor clutched his chest, attempting to remember the feeling of your body against his.  

Your warning rang true a few days later, when the borders of Talokan were breached for the first time in its history. The water surrounding the city remained a misty red for months afterward.  

- 

Namor pushed his spear deeper into the chest of the enemy King, finally ending the slaughter that had plagued him and his people for many years. The jungle around him rang with a silence so sickening that he fell to his knees. He hung his head low, exhausted from the fight. You had been right about everything, and the only thing that had kept him fighting for this moment of triumph was the speech you’d given him all those years ago.  

The guilt of his warrior’s deaths weighed heavily on his shoulders. It didn’t seem fair, that he would continue living after so many of his people had to mourn the loss of their family members. Their family members, who had died fighting his fight. The weight was almost too much to bear, and he was suddenly glad that he was alone.  

His people did not deserve to see his pity-party. He slammed his fists into the ground, letting out a brutish grunt. It was over, but his mind was still reeling. The sound of your soft footsteps brought him out of his rage. 

“You shouldn’t be here.” His voice was hoarse as he pleaded with you not to see him like this.  

“I am here, all the same.” You waved your hand in a nonchalant motion, lowering your body into a kneeling position in front of him.  

He couldn’t look at you. The awfulness of what he had done, of the person he had to become to defeat this threat was so far beneath you, and he couldn’t imagine anyone loving the broken man he had become. Tears threatened to spill from his eyes, and he squeezed them shut to stop them from falling.  

“You should go.” He pleaded with you, shaking his head at the thought of you being so close to the gory battlefield he had just fought on.  

“I will not leave you, in yakunaj, just as you would not leave me if our positions were switched.”  

You reached forward, gently wrapping your hands around his wrists. The steady drum of your power grounded his thoughts for a moment, and he prayed to the universe that your touch wouldn’t leave him. He didn’t move for what felt like hours, cherishing the warmth in his chest at having you so close to him after so long.  

“I cannot stand being apart from you like this.” He mumbled, head still hung low.  

“It is not for much longer, my King. One day, not so far in the future, we will be together.” 

“How much longer must I live with this torment of longing I feel when you’re gone?” 

You cupped his cheeks, swiping at the dirt and grime that coated his face with your thumbs.  

“Soon, my love. I promise.”  

You walked with him as he made his way back to the sea, the urge within him to return home too strong to deny any longer. There weren’t many words spoken between the two of you, but words didn’t seem necessary. You were here, and you were a gentle reminder that his future was bright, and that’s all that mattered to him at the moment.  

When Namor stepped onto the beach, the bobbing heads of Namora and Attuma a few hundred yards out at sea caught his eye. They would return to Talokan with the news that their King had come out triumphant, and that the war was officially over.  

You watched as their heads dipped below the surface before facing him.  

“I have been gone for too long. I must go.” Namor’s grip on your hands tightened, unwilling to let you go so soon.  

“Stay. Please stay.”  

You smiled warmly, bringing his knuckles to your lips. “I cannot, in yakunaj. I must return to the present. But I will leave you with a gift, so that you don’t forget me while I’m gone.”  

“I could never forget you, ki'ichpanech. Even if you don’t return for 1,000 years, I will still remember you.”  

You smiled, pulling your hands out of his. You cupped your palms together, tapping into your power until the yellow orb appeared, floating between the two of you.  

“Take this with you. It will shine brightly in Talokan. Bring your people the sun, K’uk’ulkan, after the dark times this war has brought with it.” You pushed the orb into his hands, releasing the speck of power from your being.  

Namor gasped, shaking his head. “I cannot do that. This is yours.” He tried to push it back into your chest, but you wouldn’t accept it.  

“It will be mine again, one day, in yakunaj. Until then, let it guide your people. Let it guide your heart.”  

Namor looked at you, wide eyed. The orb floated around his body, refusing to move further than a few inches from his skin.  

“I do not know what to say, ki'ichpanech, other than that I am undeserving of this gift.”  

“You will take it anyway,” you say, patting the area of his chest near his heart. Your hand lingered on his skin, and he could not stop himself from crashing his lips into yours. You smiled into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck. He held you tightly against his body, arms wrapped fully around your waist in a tight embrace.  

You pulled away, gently cradling his face. “Stay safe, my King. I will see you soon.”  

Namor stumbled forward in your sudden absence, and he couldn’t help the frustrated grunt he let out. Soon had better be soon, or he’d start scouring the Earth for signs of you.  

- 

Namor had not expected to see you so soon. It had only been a few years since your last encounter, and after the enormous stints of time between your previous meetings, he had not expected you for another few decades. An enormous eruption from the sea had beckoned him far from Talokan, the furthest he’d been from his home in years. 

Something was different this time. Unlike your previous appearances, where you’d appeared seemingly out of thin air, this time you were accompanied by a small group of people. Your hair was disheveled, and it looked like you and the people around you had been fighting something, something huge.  

He rushed onto the beach towards you. If there was a threat to you, he’d eliminate it faster than you could blink. It wasn’t so much a choice, but more of an instinct. He stumbled forward when he felt the full brunt of power between you and your friends.  

Oh. They were like you.  

Your friends stiffened when they noticed him, but your smile was the only thing he could focus on as he made his way towards you. This felt different because it was different. You weren’t here from your present. This was the present, and he was about to officially meet you. He was suddenly glad you hadn’t told him the details of your first meeting because he hadn’t had time to grow anxious about it.  

You met him halfway across the beach, jumping into his arms when you got close enough to reach him. He pulled you into a hug, wondering if he could get away with never letting go of you again. 

“I would say it’s nice to meet you, but we’ve met before, ki'ichpanech.” He mumbled into your ear. 

“Yes, we have.” You let out a light laugh, planting a kiss on his cheek.  

Namor’s brow furrowed as he tried to figure out how this version of you could know who he was, or how you would know about your previous meetings since they technically hadn’t happened yet. He shook his head. The thought of it gave him a headache, and he wasn’t going to try and figure that one out on his own.  

“You are here to stay, right?” He asked, hopeful.  

“Yes, in yakunaj, I’m here to stay.”  

Namor kissed you sweetly, arms still wrapped around you. He wouldn’t be letting go of you for a while, and you seemed perfectly okay with that.  

- 

When you stumbled back into the present for the final time, Namor was stretched out in the bed you shared with him. It was late, much later than you had intended on being, and you opened your mouth to explain your absence before realizing that Namor would remember the encounter with you, and likely already understood why you had been gone for so long. You crawled into the bed next to him, pressing a kiss into his bare shoulder before cuddling into his side. 

“Now you have seen me at my worst.” Namor’s voice was a hushed whisper against the late hour.  

“I love you, even at your worst, in yakunaj.” You responded in an equally hushed tone.  

He pulled you closer, angling his body so that he could wrap you into a hug, and you shuttered against him. He was always so warm, and never once complained about how cold your skin was.  

“You are my greatest inspiration, ki'ichpanech. You are my strength and my love. My people are very lucky to have you as their queen. I cannot express the love I have for you in here.” He tapped his chest, resting his head on the top of yours.  

“You are an unbelievable sap, Namor.” You chuckled, nuzzling your face into his chest. “I love you even more for it, though.”

End Note: I really really love how this came out. I hope you enjoyed it! Either way, thank you for reading!

Tag List (Click here to join!):

@thatlesbosimp @legocity2 @softclue @violet-19999 @uwiuwi @omgsuperstarg @purpleetou @raeluvsbloodline @historygeekgueen @kneelarhmstrung @euphoricjupiter @kneelarhmstrung @ethereal-athalia @quackson03 @johfaam @messymissy @husherstan @quackimilktea @certifiedhunter @shoxji @dazecrea @alexxavicry @hallecarey1 @km-ffluv @chiaraxtargaryen @trulylavandedarling @D0wnbad @deliciousfestsalad @lilyevans1 @imagineadream @22carolina08 @layazul

[strawberrykake]

surprising him w ur son wearing the same outfit as him

father’s day special ❣️ insp by this

warnings: timeskip!haikyuu, kuroo is slightly suggestive (baby fever), daughter ver.

Ushijima, Bokuto, Daichi, Kuroo, Iwaizumi, Kita

Ushijima 👟

Your husband who’s already tying his shoelaces, getting prepped up for his early morning run doesn’t hear you enter the living room with your very hyper 3 year old son wearing a new outfit

Specifically, a matching pair of the black adidas tracksuit that your husband wore every morning

“Hon? Going for a run?” You ask in a sing-song voice.

“Yeah. I’ll be back in a jiffy.” He stands up straight and turns around to give you a peck when he feels a tug on his pants.

“Dada,” your child coos, eyes wide looking up at his father.

You smirk, waiting for his reaction

But it’s delayed bc he’s the most oblivious man you know

“Hey, sport.” He bends down and swoops up the kid effortlessly, tickling his neck with kisses. “Now, wait a minute.” Your husband pauses and lifts your kid higher, studying his look. “What in the world,” he chuckles. The small boy giggles, wiggling in his father’s hold.

Ushijima looks over at you, an eyebrow raised. “Darling?

“Hehe,” you cover your mouth to muffle your giggles. “You like?” He looks back at his son’s matching pants and jacket and shoes.

“I love.” He holds his giggling son close in his right arm, opening the door with his left. “We’ll be right back, mommy.”

“What?” You ask, a little caught off guard. Ushijma usually goes on runs by himself while you and your son wait at home.

“Im canceling runs today. We’re going on a walk.” The sudden decision makes you send him a questioning look.

“He didn’t eat breakfast yet,” you point out.

“Then let’s stop by Mcdonald’s.” Ushijima’s smile is stuck on his face as he’s adjusting the zipper of his son’s jacket. Ushijima isn’t a fan of fast food but his son loves it and he loves to spoil him very much. Although, McDonald’s for breakfast is a rare thing.

You hesitate before nodding in agreement. You tie up your hair and grab your purse before walking to the door where your husband and son stood.

“Yay! Meek Danno!” Your kid raises his fists. Where did he learn that? Ushijima reaches out to you, pulling you in for a kiss on your cheek.

“Thank you,” he says. “You know, you should get an outfit yourself,” he says smirking. Before you could comment, the boy starts to whine.

“I want kithhhh.” You and Ushijima look to each other, chuckling. Then each of you kiss the sides of his face simultaneously, making him giggle.

Bokuto 📸

Bokuto who’s going through a little emo phase bc of his work, lays down on his couch an arm over his head

You decide to cheer him up by surprising him with your son dressed in the same outfit as him: a grey hoodie, brown shorts and a brown beaded bracelet

“Go tell, daddy,” you whisper in your son’s ear, tickling him.

He giggles silently and tiptoes his way to his moping father on the furniture.

his little fingers tap on Bokuto’s sleeved arm covering his face.

“Rockstar, is that you?” He calls his son by the little nickname he created for him. His little rockstar. Which the child LOVES.

You laugh to yourself. Never gets old. Bokuto moves his arm away, his eyes peeking out playfully at his son. When it comes to his son, his emo phase is immediately turned off. He always makes sure his baby is happy.

Suddenly, it’s as if something struck him as sits up, noticing his son’s outfit. “Woah! Look at you!” And then Bokuto’s beaming as if all his troubles have gone away. Bokuto holds up his son and spins him around in the air. “Well, aren’t you the coolest looking dude?” You laugh, catching his attention. “Babe, do you see this? We’re twins!” His emo phase is practically long gone, hair no longer drooping and eyes wide with surprise.

“Haha, you are,” you say, laughing. “Here, honey, I’ll take a picture of you guys.” You lift a camera and your husband is quick on his feet, placing his son on the ground for one photo. Then, picking him up and making several poses..

“Peace-sign! Peace-sign!” And the little kid slowly tries to mimic his father’s gestures. “There we go, my boy!”

After their photo op, the two are playing in their cute matching outfits and you cant help but snap more photos for memory of this day. The next thing you know, they’re fast asleep on the couch with matching open mouths as they snore. Somehow, the strings of their hoodies ended up tied together, making you raise a brow and lips curve. Bokuto has his arm around the little one who is curled up, snuggling into his father’s shirt.

You snap another picture, laughing silently to yourself. That’s a new lockscreen for sure.

Daichi 🔨

Daichi was in the kitchen to fix the sink’s leaky faucet when his son comes barging in

You follow the kid behind him, hands behind your back

“Daddy, look!” The boy exclaims holding a toy hammer in his hand, handing it to his father.

Your son was supposed to show his outfit, not the hammer in his hand

he probably misunderstood when you told him to go “show daddy” as he held his toy in his hand.

“Whatcha got there, buddy?” Daichi chuckles, taking the rubber hammer. “S’it for me?”

He studies the object. Then his eyebrows furrow.

You cup a hand over your mouth to stifle a laugh. You knew that look.

He looks back up to his son, making a double take, and noticing the matching black polo shirt and khakis.

That’s when he drops the hammer “Oh my god,” he chuckles again, but this time in disbelief. He picks up the boy, walking over to you.

“Honey?” He motions to his son in his arms and to his outfit, posing. “How do we look?” Your husband smiles widely.

“You two look dashing,” you say.

“This is the best day ever.” He places a kiss on his son’s cheek before tickling him silly and swinging him. The kid starts giggling uncontrollably and you can’t help but chuckle from the contagious laughter. Daichi places the squirming child back on the ground, before walking over to you.

“Thank you,” he says with a soft gaze, cupping your cheeks with both of his hands and placing a huge kiss on your lips. “Mmmmwah.”

“Mmph!” the feeling of his strong palms squeezing your cheeks overwhelm you. But a soft giggle escapes you and Daichi knows that you love when he does this. Your son stands on the side, running his toy car across the furniture. His head spins to his parents hearing your giggle. And Daichi is giving all his attention back to the boy.

“Wow, neat car you got there!” He smiles, watching his kid with adoration.

Looks like the sink’s repair will have to wait.

Kuroo 👔

Kuroo had just gotten from work, his tie loosened and coat immediately thrown off

now left in his white collared long sleeve and dress pants.

“Hey, honey,” he greets you with a lingering kiss.

“Welcome back,” you say, pressing your lips against his.

He leans over you to deepen the kiss, his hands resting on your lower back

And you giggle pushing him back.

He chuckles. “Where’s the little one?”

“Close your eyes,” you say, smiling.

“Huh?” he asks, confused.

“Babe, close your eyes, trust me.”

And he closes them, a corner of his lips turning. “What is this, huh?”

“No peeking!” you warn. And right on time, your son rushes toward his father from behind you.

Kuroo feels something hugging his leg.

“S’that you, rascal?” The kid makes babbling noises as Kuroo ruffles his hair, eyes still closed.

You bend down and grab the child. “C’mere, baby.” You lift him into your arms. “Okay! Open, babe.”

Kuroo opens his eyes and gasps. “This isn’t real.” His open mouth turns into a smile and the kid mirrors his father’s expression. You had set up an outfit for your son similar to Kuroo’s work clothes, and even styling his hair to match the crow-like shape of his father’s.

Your son opens his arms as an invitation for Kuroo to take him from your hold, and Kuroo chuckles, grabbing the toddler.

“He looks so handsome! You look so handsome, bud!” Kuroo tickles the belly of the child, making him laugh.

“He looks like you,” you say staring at your child fondly. Their resemblance is uncanny. From the jet black hair, the eyes, and the same smug expression. Anybody could tell that Kuroo’s genes were strong on this one.

“Exactly,” Kuroo smirks. Of course his handsome little boy looks just like his handsome father. It only makes him think about sharing more kids with you. “I want more children. Let’s make more of these, yeah?” Kuroo says bluntly. And you had to whack him in the shoulder.

“Testurou!” You say flustered.

“What? I’m just sayin,” he defends, the child lightly bouncing on his hip and busy playing with his father’s messy hair.

“We can talk about this later,” you say, smiling at your cute son. Kuroo leans down to give you a peck on your cheek as a thank you for this little event you made for him.

Iwaizumi ☕️

Iwaizumi was sitting on the couch

his computer on his lap as he remains his focus on his work, typing at a fast pace

he had just got off a zoom call with his co-worker

lately, he’s been stressed and working hard the whole day, spending his time on the screen

while consuming an unhealthy amount of caffeine to keep himself awake (you had to take it away from him)

wanting to cheer him up, you and your dear son come up with a small surprise

you enter the room holding your neatly dressed son’s hand as you approach him

“Oh hey,” your husband looks up, rubbing his eyelids

Iwaizumi’s tired eyes squint, looking at his adorable son who is. . .dressed up as him?

His eyes widen when he realizes that what he’s seeing isn’t a hallucination. The boy had changed out of his previous clothes and is wearing the same exact clothes his father’s wearing: white tank and grey sweats.

“Did you get dressed up like me? Hmm?” Iwaizumi tosses his laptop aside, bringing his full attention to his son who cheerfully walks toward his dad. “Come here, you,” he says with a huff, picking up his son. A smile adorns the father’s face as he watches the energetic kid squeeze his father’s cheeks.

“This is crazy,” you say to yourself, shaking your head. Combined with their outfits, the two males are mirrors of each other. Your son got your husband’s spiky hair and eyes. However, you could see your smile in his. And that was Iwaizumi’s favorite part.

“Come here, momma,” your husband calls out to you and pats the space next to him. You perk up at his voice, following his words. As you sat down, you watched Iwaizumi continue to entertain his kid, giving him light tickles with his lips. “Oh, you little handsome thing.” Iwaizumi pauses when he notices you staring lovingly at them. And his smile brightens. “I love this. Our baby’s too cute.”

“I know right?” You say, grabbing your kid’s chubby cheek and giving it a light squeeze.

“Why don’t we do this often?” Iwaizumi asks and the kid moves out of his father’s lap, walking onto the cushion of the couch. It makes Iwaizumi tear his eyes away from you, to help balance his energetic child walk across the couch. “Careful, boy.”

“We should.” You stand up and quickly pick him up. “You both are so cute like this!” Looking between your husband and your child, you boop their noses. Iwaizumi is shocked by your action. Unable to help himself, plus, the image of you holding his child, he gives you a huge kiss then placing another on his child’s forehead.

“I love you two.” He sighs contently and realizes he could really use a break from work for a minute.



Kita 🍚

Coming back from delivering rice packs, Kita is exhausted

you greet him at the door as he enters with a comforting smile

“Shinsuke,” you say, hugging your husband.

“Hey, darlin’” he places a kiss on your lips and wraps his arms around your waist.

“Where’s our little ball of happiness?” he whispers in case the child he spoke of was asleep

“I’m glad you asked.” You smirk, before turning and calling your son. “C’mon baby, show papa what you got!”

And there goes your little ball of happiness skipping into the room with a replica of Kita’s clothes. The man lets you go and slowly approaches the child.

“Woah,” he breathes in amazement. It’s like looking at a reflection of his youth. “Where did you—How did you—?” Kita is astonished, his head turning to look between you and his son. He finally squats and lets the kid jump into his arms, squealing.

“Ordered the outfit online and it arrived today, so…here we are. Surprise, love,” you say, bringing your phone out for a photo as Kita tickles the boy’s neck with kisses.

“Oh my god…” Your husband stands with your son in his arms, walking over to you. He sighs. “I love you,” and gives you a kiss, before facing his child. “And I love you!” He lifts the kid into the air, spinning. The joy on their faces mirroring each other.

Before you know it, Kita is outside admiring the orangey sky with his son. The baby points at something in the sky, probably a bird or maybe a weirdly shaped cloud. Kita gazes along with him. It’s moments like these that make you forget all that is wrong with the world.

[taiyakimmy]

the todoroki theory || eraserhead, hawks & fatgum headcanon

✧･ﾟ Credits to the owner of the gif!

Title: The Todoroki Theory 

Summary: Shoto’s reserved behaviour isn’t a ‘no thoughts head empty’ moment, but rather what he, as well as his classmates, describe as the 'Todoroki Theory’. Today’s order of business—does (Y/N) have a secret love child and if so, are they in the school? 

Characters: Shota Aizawa (Eraserhead), Keigo Takami (Hawks), Taishiro Toyomitsu (Fatgum), Vigilante!Fem!Reader, Izuku Midoriya, Shoto Todoroki, Shinsou Hitoshi, Mirio Togata, Eri, Fumikage Tokoyami, Eijiro Kirishima, Tamaki Amajiki + the rest of Class 1-A

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: Humour (Todoroki being outta pocket), Swearing & Shitposting, BUT ALSO Topics of depression on Fatgum’s ver, so read at you own risk!

A/N: Ever wondered what Icy-Hot’s thinking about? He has his big brain moments, which is why I’ve done three versions; Eraserhead, Hawks & Fatgum! ♡ Do click on the links (spoiler: there’s memes too!) for a better reading experience!

Disclaimer: Be warned—GRAMMAR ERRORS & occasional usage of last names, KIDDOS. I made this on a whim BUT I might make a one-shot/longer ver. for Fatgum’s, we’ll see :) Thanks for stopping by, my dearest cuties and enjoy this lil’ piece! ♡

Keep reading

[steffanarts]

Prince from the Land of Snow ❄

[bnha-incorrect-xreader-quotes]

Aizawa: What's this?

Y/N: It's my to do list! :)

Aizawa: Huh, I guess you're finally becoming an organi-

Aizawa: Why does it just say 'Shinso'?

[katsucookie]

SYNOPSIS: After a hit to the head that lands you in the nurse’s office, you meet the culprit - the star Chaser of the Slytherin Quidditch team.

WORD COUNT: 2.1k

GENRE: Fluff, Harry Potter AU

PAIRING: Oikawa x Reader

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Insecurity, cursing

AUTHOR’S NOTE: If you reblog this I’ll give you a kiss <3 Thank you to @kozu-zumi​, @shotos-noodles​, and @lilsparkyswife​ for letting me bug them about this fic for the last week or so! (Also: I hate J.K. Rowling. I just wanted to write a fic set in the Harry Potter universe.) 

Every day at 5 PM, you went to the Quidditch field.

It was the perfect time to be outside - the wind was bitter, and the sun was sweet, the liquid nectar bleeding into the grass and trees, dripping down the sturdy trunks.

It was under these trees that you were most productive.

Today, the Slytherin team was productive too.

They soared and zipped from one end of the field to another like hummingbirds, the Quaffle no more than a maroon blur against the wispy clouds. Chasers and Seekers led Bludgers to the Beaters, the crack of metal against iron ringing through the field.

Watching them play was magical - the stories people would share over laughter and lunches could never beat the real thing.

Even from afar, you could feel the passion that they had for Quidditch. It radiated off of them in waves, casting a spell over the few people wandering around the field. It was intoxicating - Quidditch became art when they were on the broomsticks.

It was a feeling shared by the Gryffindor team as well, which was why the match next Saturday would be so vital. You weren’t sure who to route for, regardless of house loyalties.

You sigh, letting your head rest against the firm bark of the tree.

What a pain.

Keep reading

[cranity]

Yuji’s on bag duty again while Nobara drags Fushiguro around the stores

[anotheranimewriter]

Sweater Weather

(A/N: So this is my first time writing for MHA, so please go easy on me.. Who should I write for next? Also can we just admire how crisp this gif is?)

Pairing: Shinso Hitoshi x GN!Reader

word count: 941

Sweater Weather:

He leaned against the back of his seat fidgeting with his pencil between his fingers. The classroom was filled with murmurs and chatter that served him no purpose. He sighed passing a hand through his untamed hair, he wanted nothing more than to be drinking an energy drink but he forgot to pack one in his bag as he was heading out of the dorms. The pencil between his fingers had become his sole focus as the room became silent to him, his mind wandering off into the distance until he felt a cool object lightly tap his hand. Looking away from the pencil to the energy drink that was now placed on his desk “Thank you.” He whispered knowing the person who placed the drink on his desk was now on the other side of the classroom.

“Hey (Y/N)! That’s a cool sweater, where’d you get it?” Denki asked resting his elbows on their desk as (Y/N) looked down at the sweater they were wearing examining the article of clothing, slightly raising an eyebrow it “I have no idea.” They responded as Denki let out a hearty laugh as some electricity passed through his “How do you not know? Didn’t you buy it?” He asked as Sero placed an arm around Denki’s shoulder “Or maybe it was someone else’s.” Sero hinted as Denki turned to give him a confused expression until Sero’s words clicked “Oh? Oh. Oh! You have a boyfriend!?” Denki bursted out as (Y/N) flinched at the loud outburst and before they could defend their case Aizawa entered the classroom. “Everyone in their seats, we have a lot to discuss about the final exams.” He spoke in his typical monotone voice as everyone hurried to their seats.

As soon as Aizawa began speaking and class was in session (Y/N) had quickly drowned out his words, as they rested their elbows on the desk placing their cheek in the palm of their hand. Where did the sweater come from? It was a pullover sweater, something they typically didn’t wear, it was a bit roomier than other sweaters they had in their closet, and the style was very different from their own. So where did this sweater come from or as Sero suggested, who’d it come from? On the other side of the classroom Shinso had snuck a peek at (Y/N), the confusion on their face was quite enjoyable for him, cute even. He never thought he’d ever seen his sweater on their body once again, but here it was, one of his favorite sweaters on their body over their uniform. A slight tug of his lips as they curled upwards, for just a second before it quickly vanished, he typically never used his quirk on people he considered kind but that situation was different.

The class was a complete blur for (Y/N) as they were lost in thought about the sweater ordeal. Everyone had begun packing around them snapping their focus back to reality as they began to pack in a haste as they looked around the classroom not finding the person they were looking for “So are you gonna tell us about your little boyfriend?” Denki teased once more as Sero and Kirishima stood behind (Y/N) as they shook their heads “When I figure it out I’ll let you guys know!” They said quickly throwing their bag over their shoulder and darting out the class and down the hall. “NO RUNNING IN THE HALLWAY (Y/L/N)!” Ida yelled from the door of classroom 1-A as (Y/N) turned around slightly “Sorry Class Rep!” They replied facing forward still running out of the building. They continued running until they reached the tree, his tree, where it all started. “Shinso.. this is.. this is your sweater isn’t it?” (Y/N) questioned as they tried to catch their breath as Shinso raised the energy drink to his lips taking a sip from the can. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He replied softly as he closed his eyes resting his head against the trunk of the tree.

“I thought you didn’t use your quirk on friends.” (Y/N) said as they stood their ground folding their arms over their chest, as Shinso let out a sigh not bothering to open his eyes “I don’t. You were just so stubborn.” He replied as (Y/N) began to bend down taking a seat beside him, lightly tapping their shoulders together “Explain.” (Y/N) continued as he let out a curt ‘tsk’ as he parted his lips “You were training. It was cold outside. Your lips were blue, and you were shivering. I asked you if you were cold, and you lied. So I told you to put the sweater on, and then I left. Nothing else happened.” He said slowly, opening his eyes to see their reaction as they scrunched up their face before lightly punching his chest.

“Then why didn’t you just tell me the truth?” (Y/N) questioned as Shinso shrugged. (Y/N) laughed softly shaking their head before they rested their head on Shinso’s shoulder “You didn’t have to use your quirk Shinso. You could’ve just glared at me, that’s scary enough to make me put it on.” (Y/N) teased as Shinso let a soft chuckle slip, half because he was nervous and the other half was because of their statement “I’ll keep that in mind.” He said softly, as the conversation between them came to a comfortable stop. The calming silence returned, they were back to where it all began, and they would always return to this exact spot.

[tendouszeita]

Summary: You couldn’t help but fall for people.No matter who they were, what they did, you found it in yourself to have a crush on them. To get those feelings out, you wrote letters to your crushes.What happens when your baby sister sends them out?

Or the story in which the letters you never intended to send make your journey from Hakone Academy to Hakone University a lot more interesting.

THE MIYA ROUTE

Pairing: Atsumu x Fem!Reader, minor hints at Osamu x Fem!Reader

Word count: 6,537 words

Warnings: angsty pieces, mild swearing (prob), anxiety and self-doubt

A/N: A repost from my previous blog.

Keep reading

[tendouszeita]

Summary: You couldn’t help but fall for people.No matter who they were, what they did, you found it in yourself to have a crush on them. To get those feelings out, you wrote letters to your crushes.What happens when your baby sister sends them out?

Or the story in which the letters you never intended to send make your journey from Hakone Academy to Hakone University a lot more interesting.

THE MIYA ROUTE

Pairing: Atsumu x Fem!Reader, Osamu x Fem!Reader

Word count: 1,550 words

Warnings: I don’t think there are any!

A/N: A repost from my old blog.

Keep reading