A/N: I love the idea of like a fun slytherin sm!! Like kind of the resident fun slytherin who literally just gets along with everyone!! I like to think reader took the pic of fred w the lil camera we see her with eheh
Warning(s): Reader is a slytherin but NICE, fred is completely enamored, reader is popular, extroverted, and loves parties!! Reader and Fred are in their last year, before he drops out to open the shop <33
Word count: 1.8k
Dividers by @muerdida !!
The Gryffindor common room pulsated like it had a heartbeat, fluorescing lights lighting up the room in flashes of red, blue, yellow, and green. The tables, chairs, and everything pushed aside to make a makeshift dancefloor. Nights like these were beautiful; people came, without house colours, but as themselves. People got along, danced and drank together. Nelly Furtado played over invisible speakers, silencing charms being tested to their limits. Bodies swayed under the strobing lights, the room was filled with obnoxiously loud singing and hammered sixth and seventh years yelling over the music to talk to each other.
You were the centre of it all, despite it not even being your house’s party; you were fanning the flame, all around the room. Taking shots off of Alicia Spinnet’s back one second, the next chatting up Roger Davies in another corner. You danced with Cassius Warrington, giggled with Katie Bell, even gossiped a bit with Angelina.
Again—life of the party. You were known, popular. You lit up every function you attended, knowing how to get people dancing, drinking, laughing. Your name was constantly being yelled from all corners of the room, you stuck around with everyone, drank with them, laughed and danced with them, then spun around to another corner—another person. It was a careful dance, you thrived in it.
What you didn’t expect was being pulled out of it as a large hand curled around your upper arm, pulling you into a corner by the stairs. You looked up, warm with alcohol as a pair of piercing chocolate eyes looked down at you, fiery ginger hair and a lazy grin. Your stomach fluttered as a grin grew on your lips.
“Freddie! I haven’t seen you all night, thought you bailed ‘n left poor George here.” You mused, looking up at his towering frame. He chuckled, crossing his arms. “Miss seeing you? I’d feel robbed of the prettiest glittering thing in the common room.”
He gestured to your excessive jewellery, you snickered in response, playfully swatting his wrist while he gestured. “Oh, hush! Don’t spend all your time here, want me to introduce you to a few? There’s a girl I feel you’d get on with—” You said excitedly before you heard his tongue click. He leaned over you, lowering his head to mumble in your ear.
“Think I’m happy enough with you, mhm?” He mumbled, making your cheeks burn. “Well– well, okay! I just— There’s people looking for me, okay?” You sputtered out, eyes wider as you patted his chest like your insides weren’t exploding. His grin only widened as he leaned back, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Shame. Look for me, alright, pretty girl?”
You laughed in response, giving him a bright smile. “Oh, for sure. Who else’ll call me the prettiest glittering thing in the room? Can’t let go of that ego fuel, can I?”
He snickered, moving to loosely touch your hair, tilting his head. “If anyone else calls you pretty, tell ‘em I did first, will you?” The soft, subtle touch of possessiveness made your knees feel like jelly. Your name was yelled again, and you fell back into it, into the music and the laughter—but Fred hung at the back of your mind, sat in your ribs. Your breathing hitched just a tad whenever you heard his loud laughter from across the party.
You told yourself Fred was just touchy, you didn’t know each other beyond the parties, beyond the noise. You were fine with that, you always kept yourself occupied. He was always occupied.
But there it began.
Party after party, the common rooms switching but the people constant. With Umbridge’s rules and the fact it was the last year for so many, parties were thrown almost every single night.
You never minded, always attending each one. People needed it; to be able to let loose and have fun. But Fred came to each and every one too.
Every single one.
Fair, it was his final year too, you doubted he’d even finish it with how much he talked about his upcoming shop. But you felt his eyes on you through every one. You felt insane when you looked his face, only to see him doing something else. Not looking at you.
Were you the one thinking of him? Wishing he’d look at you?
You shook the thought, back on the dance floor, pulling people in as Sean Paul blasted over the speakers, making quite literally every girl in the room scream and dance together.
You were flushed, dancing with Katie Bell to the upbeat song, moving your hips as you and Katie sang the song at each other, grins wide.
You were completely consumed by it, swaying to the music. Spinning around with the rest of the bodies in the crowd. You looked around, spotting Fred on the outskirts of the dance floor just as the song switched, Everybody Wants To Rule The World, Tears for Fears.
The new songs pulled more guys in, and you moved to grab Fred’s wrist making him scoff and shake his head. “Oh, no no no—“ making you snicker, nodding as you tugged him into the crowd.
“Oh, yes, Weasley. You’re not shy, right?” You cooed, making him exaggeratedly groan. You danced to the slower song in front of him, singing with him. Though he was quite reluctant to, he sang with a soft smirk, rolling his eyes every once in a while when you very dramatically acted out the lyrics.
The next song came, then the next. You two stayed, he got more comfortable. Dancing, swaying, singing, grinning at each other.
You shared drinks, teased each other—had a complete ball.
Soon, your interactions shifted, evolved.
Parties turned into bumping into eachother in the back of the library.
Alcohol turned sharing coffee during hangovers.
The music started sounding like rain when you and him sit together in the Astronomy Tower. It sounded like the crackling of the Gryffindor Common Room fire when he and George made you wear a Gryffindor tie to sneak you in under the guise of you being the only tolerable Slytherin.
Talking at parties was natural, he went straight to you when he walked in; you always gave him your full attention in turn. The girl who was the human version of everywhere, all at once, began to find a place to be. Fred.
Gradually, people went to Fred when they needed you—and someone always needed you. She almost gave Fred a starter pack on how to help people if you were busy.
If someone asked Fred why he had a pouch in his bookbag full of pads, inflatable heating pads, spare underwear, lip balm, and pain-relief potion seven months ago, he’d have snorted and made some dumb joke about being the saint Mary for women’s needs.
But now? He quite literally was. Because of you.
You’d begun letting yourself into his dorm whenever you wanted; Lee and George were used to you hanging around their dorm at this point. You and Fred would sit on his bed, you’d tell him all the drama that looked for your advice on to make sure he could give his two cents whenever anyone came asking for your opinion. Late nights just sitting within the curtains of his four-poster bed, whispering and giggling people's problems. He’d occasionally snort at the ridiculousness.
Your heart swelled—you loved being everyone’s girl. Everyone’s person. But this? Sitting with him? It felt like you had a person, felt like you were his someone.
And on it went. Months. It came to a point, you and Fred snuck out of your common rooms, in nothing but dorky Merlin pyjamas you’d both bought on a whim to be funny.
He leaned against the railing of the Astronomy Tower, the air was cool, but not biting. Your shoulder kept bumping against his as you swayed softly, humming some Beatles song under your breath. He didn’t move, looked out towards the stars. The silence wasn’t alarming, you’d learned that Fred thought about stuff a lot when he was alone, and you always let him be alone with you.
Your fingers brushed too many times for it not to be deliberate.
“You know me ‘n Georgie’ll be leaving soon. The shop. Everything and whatnot. I won’t be here.” He said softly into the night, looking at you with the same intensity his eyes always had. He was like a live storm, no matter how quiet. You nodded once, looking back at him.
“I know. It’ll be weird. Can’t wait to see it, though.” You said in turn, offering up a smile. He didn’t reciprocate, not satisfied.
“I won’t be here.” He repeated.
“The hallways will be quieter.”
“I’ll be, like, gone. No more this.”
“I’ll miss it. I’ll write to you.”
He pursed his lips, narrowing his eyes at you like you were messing with him.
“Are you taking the piss?” He huffed, frowning at you. You frowned back, tilting your head. “Of what?”
He groaned, moving to face you, dragging a hand down his face. “Merlin, woman. Me. You. Us. Is there seriously nothing you want to talk about on this horrifically romantic night?”
Your heart picked up a few beats, looking at his warm chocolate eyes, now swirling with frustration. “Do you?”
He gaped, almost exasperated. “What—what do you even– Of course! You’re just– The whispering in my ear?! I–I have a bloody period kit for helping people because you asked! Not to mention the fact it’s a known fact that everyone knows that I always know your bloody whereabouts?!”
He grabbed your shoulders, you yelped. “Freddie!”
“You’re gonna make me go mad, okay? I’ll be leaving, love. Gone. You won’t see me. I can meet you at Hogsmeade but that’s it. I’ll be busy with the business. Next time we’ll be proper together will be ages from now.”
He glared, you turned sheepish.
“Say something or I’ll do something you may not like.” He mumbled, quieter but no less intense.
“Like kiss me?” You mumbled.
“Like kiss you.”
Your stomach fluttered, because he looked so undeterred, like a string pulled taut to the point of snapping.
“Do it then.” You whispered, making his hands move from your shoulders to your hips, squeezing the plump skin before tugging you closer.
“Fuckin’ crazy. You’re terrifying. I-I can’t even begin to keep myself sane near you.” He huffed, his lips ghosted over yours, making your pulse hammer inside your veins, against your skin.
He leaned down, teeth clinking into a messy, open-mouthed kiss. You were breathing into each other’s mouths, practically sucking each other in.
And so Slytherin’s party girl found something beyond the strobing lights and blasting music. Something equally as enjoyable, but just a bit closer to her heart.
Controversial opinion I know but, like, we need more x reader fics where reader isn’t default white. White people wanting to write for white people is just the way it’s always been since the dawn of time but I even see non-white people whose x reader fics strictly have reader being white.
I’m not trying to tell people what to write but I promise you having a neutral/brown/black/etc reader isn’t some terrible thing. Inclusivity is hot 🩷
a/n - Sorry it's taken so long but heres part 4 :)
this series is on my ao3
masterlist
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6
c/w - alcohol consumption, kissing alert!!
Later that evening, your room was quite chaotic, there's very excited energy that always came before a night out.
Music played softly in the background, clothes were scattered everywhere, and the air still felt warm from the day’s heat drifting in through the balcony doors.
You stood in front of the mirror, adjusting yourself for what felt like the hundredth time.
Your outfit was simple but hopefully optimal for the heat — a white floral halter top that hugged you in all the right places, and a shimmery orange mini skirt catching the light whenever you moved. Your makeup was light and glowy: a touch of blush, shimmery eyeshadow, mascara, and a sheer gloss that made your lips shine. No base makeup — there was absolutely no point in this weather.
You leaned in slightly, fixing your hair. Then stepped back. Then adjusted it again.
Behind you, Sophie paused mid-step.
“…Girl.”
You froze.
“What?”
She slowly turned to face you, “Who are you getting ready for?”
You blinked. “What do you mean?”
“You’ve touched your hair like six times in the last minute.”
Adelina, who was sitting on the bed fixing her bracelet, looked up. “And you keep checking yourself like you’re about to walk a red carpet.” Adelina narrowed her eyes nowingly. “…Is this about someone?”
You hesitated, “Okay fine. I didn't actually tell you lot earlier but when me and Jude were messing around in the sea he asked if I was going to the club tonight, and I said yes, and he said that we should hang out there.”
Sophie smiled at you shaking your arm,“Oh my god, this is everything.”
You shook your head, trying to play it down. “It’s not a big deal.”
“He asked you out,” Sophie said.
“He did not ask me out, it was probably friendly.”
“I don't believe that babes.”
You groaned, turning back to the mirror. “I just don’t want to look weird.”
Adelina stood up and walked over, gently turning you to face her.
“Look at me.”
You did.
“You look stunning,” she said simply.
Sophie nodded behind her. “Like genuinely, the orange suits you so so much”
You let out a small laugh, your nerves easing slightly.
“Really?”
“Yes,” Sophie said. “Now stop panicking.”
A few minutes later, the three of you were outside taking photos before heading out.
The sky had turned that soft dusky pink, the last of the sunlight fading behind the ocean.
“Okay wait — stand there,” Sophie said, already holding up her phone.
You tried to pose and for a second it was going really well until you laughed.
“Stop laughing!” Adelina said.
“I can’t!”
Eventually, between all the chaos, you got a few actually good pictures.
“Okay,” Sophie said, checking them. “These are cute.”
“Good enough,” Adelina added.
“Let’s go then.” You said giddily, knowing that you were going to se Jude.
The club was already buzzing when you arrived. Music pulsed through the open space, warm lights glowing around the bar and dance floor, the ocean just beyond it all blending into the dark night.
You stepped inside, scanning the crowd and then You saw Jude near the bar with Jobe.
Like he felt it, Jude looked up. Your eyes met almost instantly.
You smiled and gave a small wave.
His face lit up in recognition, and he nudged Jobe lightly before both of them started walking toward you.
Sophie leaned slightly toward you.
“This is exciting.”
Jude stopped in front of you, smiling. “Hey.”
“Hi.”
You smiled, gesturing to your friends.
“This is Sophie and Adelina.”
“This is my brother, Jobe.”
Jobe gave a small nod. “Hey guys.”
They exchanged greetings, introductions flowing easily, everyone smiling, the initial awkwardness fading quickly.
Somewhere between getting your first round of drinks and moving toward the dance floor, your group had split.
Very conveniently.
Sophie, Adelina, and Jobe were now fully committed to the dance floor — laughing, spinning each other around, and very clearly not holding back in the slightest.
Sophie threw her head back laughing as Jobe attempted some exaggerated move that made absolutely no sense, while Adelina clapped along, hyping him up like it was the best thing she’d ever seen.
You watched them for a second from the bar.
Then glanced at Jude.
He followed your gaze and shook his head slightly, smiling.
“They’re not even pretending.”
“They left us,” you said.
“On purpose.”
“Definitely.”
You turned back toward the bar, resting your elbows lightly against it.
“So,” you said, scanning the menu. “What are we trying?”
Jude leaned slightly closer to look at the drinks list. “There’s a lot going on here.”
“Yeah.” You pointed vaguely at one. “This one has pineapple and coconut.”
He nodded. “That sounds decent.”
“And it has coke in it as well.”
He looked at you. “Coke?”
“I don’t know,” you said. “It could work.”
He laughed. “Or it could be terrible.”
You smiled. “Lets try it.”
A few minutes later, you were both holding matching drinks, tall glasses filled with something creamy and slightly fizzy, topped with a slice of pineapple.
You looked at it suspiciously. “This looks questionable.”
Jude grinned.
“Really, I think it looks quite nice?”
You nodded in partial disagreement. “Okay. I guess it doesn't look too bad. Are you ready?”
He lifted his glass slightly. “Three… two… one.”
You both took a sip at the same time.
Jude’s reaction was immediate. His eyebrows lifted slightly, and he nodded, pleasantly surprised. “Oh.”
He turned to look at you, already smiling. “It’s actually—”
He stopped.
Because your face— your face was doing something completely different.
Your nose had scrunched up, your lips pulling into the most offended expression imaginable.
Jude stared at you for a second.
His brows furrowed slightly like he was trying to process it.
Then his mouth twitched.
You swallowed slowly, still frowning at the glass. “What the fuck is even that...”
He let out a laugh. “What do you mean? It’s good.”
“No it’s not,” you said immediately. “That is wrong.”
He shook his head, still smiling. “You’re being really dramatic.”
You took another small sip like you were giving it one last chance. Your face just scrunched up even more.
“No,” you said firmly. “Absolutely not.”
Jude laughed properly now. “You hate it that much?”
“Yes.” You held the glass away from yourself . “Mate. This is awful, how do you like that...”
He grinned, clearly enjoying your reaction far too much. “You’re so serious about this.”
You pushed the drink toward him. “You can have it.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Really?”
“Yes. Please take it away from me.”
He took it, still smiling. “Alright.”
You turned back to the bar. “I’m getting something normal.”
“What’s normal?” He asked with an intrigued grin on his face.
“Fruit cocktail,” you said. “Just something that actually makes sense.”
A couple more drinks later, the night had softened, everything felt easier, looser, funnier and little more charged without either of you really acknowledging it.
You were leaning against the bar, your shoulder brushing his every now and then without either of you moving away, laughing at something Jude had just said about Jobe attempting to DJ once and “killing the entire mood in under ten minutes.”
“Thats so fucking funny,” you said, laughing, your head tipping back slightly. “That’s actually so embarrassing.”
“It was bad,” he said, smiling, eyes still on you. “People actually left.”
“That’s awful,” you laughed. “I need to see that.”
"I'll show you later" He said, shaking his head, but his gaze lingered on you a second longer than before.
There was a pause after that. The music filled the space between you, bass thumping low through the floor, people moving around you — but it felt like everything had dissappeared, like your little corner at the bar had become its own thing.
Jude looked at you again. Properly this time.
His eyes flicked over you for a second — your dress, the way the light caught your skin, the gloss on your lips — before settling back on your face.
“By the way,” he said, a little quieter than before, like it wasn’t meant for anyone else to hear. “You look really pretty.”
Your stomach flipped. “Really?”
“Yeah.”
You let out a small, almost nervous laugh, glancing down for a second before looking back up at him. “I was actually kind of stressed getting ready.”
His brows pulled together slightly. “Why?”
You gestured vaguely at yourself. “I don’t know… I thought maybe the orange skirt was too loud. Or like my makeup wasn’t sitting right.”
He shook his head immediately. “No. Not at all.”
“I had fun doing it though,” you added quickly, suddenly a bit self-conscious under his gaze. “Wait—look.”
You lean a tiny bit closer without really thinking, tilting your face toward him slightly.
“I did like a white shimmer here,” you said, pointing lightly near your eye, “and then I added brown and orange here to match the outfit.”
Jude leaned in a little to look properly. Close enough that you could feel it. The space between you shrank.
He focused on your eyes, his expression softening as he took it in. “No, that actually looks really cool,” he said.
You smiled, a bit more shy than before. “Thank you. I love colour coordinating my eyeshadow,” you said, your voice a little quieter now without you meaning it to be. “It just makes everything feel intentional.”
He nodded slowly, still looking at you. “Yeah.” There was something in his expression. “It suits you.”
Your eyes held his for a second longer than necessary.
Then you looked away, smiling slightly to yourself, taking a sip of your drink just to do something.
The tension didn’t disappear.
Jude glanced toward the dance floor, like he needed a second to compose himself. He looked back at you. “Are you drunk enough to dance yet?”
You laughed softly, grateful for the shift but still feeling that lingering warmth under your skin. “Hmm…”
You tilted your head, pretending to think, even though your brain wasn’t fully cooperating. “Maybe after a couple more drinks.”
He smiled slightly. “Yeah?”
“Yeah, I still feel too aware to dance.”
“Fair enough.”
A couple more drinks later, everything felt surreal. The music didn’t just sit in the background anymore. It almost moved through you, the bass settling low in your chest, the lights blurring slightly at the edges. You could feel the alcohol warming your skin, giving you just enough confidence to stop overthinking everything.
You turned to Jude, leaning a little closer than before.
“I think…” you started, then laughed softly. “I think I want to dance now.” His eyes flicked to yours immediately, a small smile pulling at his lips. Then he stood up. And without hesitating, he held his hand out to you.
Your heart skipped a little.
You looked at his hand for a second, then back up at him, a grin spreading across your face as you placed your hand in his.
His fingers closed around yours, warm and steady, and he pulled you up from your seat. The contact lingered a second longer than necessary. Then he led you toward the dance floor.
The music was louder there, the energy completely different, people moving, laughing, bodies swaying to the rhythm.
You turned to face him, both of you pausing for a second like you were trying to figure out what to actually do.
Jude laughed. “I don’t know what to do.”
You laughed too. “Me neither.”
Then you shrugged. “Let’s just jump.”
He blinked. “Jump?”
“Yeah — just go with it.”
And before he could question it, you started moving — half jumping, half dancing to the beat, laughing again as he followed your lead.
“Okay—okay,” he said, getting into it.
For a while, it was just that. You both moved to the music without thinking too hard about it, occasionally bumping into each other, laughing, the earlier nerves completely gone now.
The world around you blurred into sound and movement.
Time passed without you really noticing.
Without either of you consciously deciding the space between you started to shrink.
What had been playful distance turned into something closer. Your movements synced a little more. Your hands brushed then stayed.
You turned slightly, laughing at something he said, and suddenly you were closer than before — his hands finding your waist naturally, like it belonged there.
Your breath caught just slightly.
The music felt heavier now.
You leaned back into him without really thinking, the alcohol and the moment making you bolder than you usually were, grinding against him
He stilled for half a second at the contact. Then his hand tightened just slightly at your waist.
The dancing shifted. It wasn’t chaotic anymore.
You could feel him behind you, the warmth of him, the way his movements followed yours almost instinctively now.
Your heart was beating a little too fast. But you didn’t pull away. Neither did he.
The music still thumped around you, your bodies still moving in sync, but something had shifted, something heavier settling between you.
Your hand was still on his arm. His hands were still at your waist. And suddenly you were aware of everything. How close you were. How easy it would be to just —
You let out a small breath, laughing softly, almost to yourself. “Okay—wait.”
Jude’s grip loosened slightly, his head tilting closer to hear you over the music. “What?”
You shook your head, still smiling, but a little breathless now.
“I think I need air.”
A small exhale left him, like he’d been holding it in.
“Yeah, same.”
You took his hand this time and led him through the crowd, weaving between people until the music started to dull behind you.
Out onto the edge of the club where the air was cooler and quieter.
The ocean stretched out in front of you, dark and endless, the sound of waves soft against the sand. The lights from the club spilled faintly behind you, but out here it felt like a completely different world.
You laughed lightly, running a hand through your hair. “That was—”
You didn’t finish the sentence.
Jude huffed out a quiet laugh. “Yeah.”
You looked out at the ocean, then back at him.
“It’s kind of mad,” you said softly, “we’ve only known each other like… two days.”
He looked at you properly then.
“Feels longer though.” He said.
Your chest tightened slightly at that.
The breeze lifted a few strands of your hair, pushing them into your face.
Without really thinking, you reached up to brush them away—
But Jude’s hand moved first.
His fingers hovered for a second like he was giving himself a chance to stop. He then gently tucked the strand behind your ear like some sort of cliche.
The touch was light.
Neither of you looked away. The music from inside felt distant.
Everything slowed.
Your gaze dropped for just a second to his lips then back up.
His hand found your jaw lightly, fingers warm against your skin, giving you just enough time to pull away.
You didn’t. So he kissed you.
Softly at first, like he was checking, like he needed to know if this was real.
Your hand came up instinctively, resting against his chest as you leaned into it, and that was all the encouragement he needed.
The world around you faded completely.
It was just him. Just this.
“Oi!”
You both pulled back instantly trying to act like you weren't just snogging.
You turned to see Sophie, Adelina, and Jobe standing a few steps away, all looking way too amused.
“Oh my god,” Sophie said, grinning. “There you are.”
You blinked, still trying to recover, “Hi guys.”
Adelina’s eyes flicked between you and Jude, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. “We’re heading back.”
Jobe nodded. “Yeah, we’re done.”
You glanced at Jude.
He glanced at you.
There was a tiny pause.
Then you both spoke at the same time —
“We’ll stay.”
You laughed softly. “Yeah — we just got some air.”
Sophie’s grin widened. “Of course you did.”
You rolled your eyes.
“Text us when you’re back,” Adelina said, already turning.
“Be safe,” Sophie added, dragging her away.
Jobe gave you both a quick smile before following them.
They were gone again.
You turned back to Jude and broke into a laugh. It was a little awkward and a little giddy.
But then you started rambling to fill the silence, “I mean—sorry, that was just—I didn’t expect that, like at all, I just thought we were dancing and then we came out here and it was just—” you let out a breathy laugh, shaking your head. “I don’t even know what I’m saying.”
Jude didn’t interrupt, he just watched you with an amused expression on his face.
“It’s just weird because we’ve only known each other like two days but that doesn't matter to me and I don’t usually—well I do, but not like this, and I just—”
You cut yourself off, pressing your lips together. “sorry.”
Jude shook his head slightly, stepping a little closer. “No, don’t apologise.”
You looked up at him, still a bit flustered, your heart racing in a way you couldn’t quite control. “I’m just talking too much.”
“I like it,” he said quietly.
That didn’t help. If anything, it made your stomach flip even more. You opened your mouth to say something else but he didn’t let you.
Before you could overthink it he kissed you again.
It caught you off guard.
Your breath hitched for a second, your brain scrambling to catch up with what was happening. And then you melted into it.
Your hands came up instinctively, gripping lightly at his shirt as you leaned closer, the nervous energy from before dissolving into something else.
The butterflies in your stomach were ridiculous, overwhelming in the best way, your chest tight with how fast your heart was beating. “I can’t believe this is happening,” you said softly, pulling back to see Jude's face.
“You don’t have to,” he murmured before holding your face and kissing you again.
This time there was no hesitation.
Just the feeling of him pulling you closer, guiding you down with him until you were both sitting on the low edge of the walkway, the ocean infront of you glistening under the moonlight.
Your hand moved to his shoulder, fingers curling into the fabric there as if you needed something to hold onto.
When you pulled back for air, it was only for a second. “I really—” you started, then stopped, laughing softly like you couldn’t finish the sentence properly.
He smiled faintly, still close. “Yeah?”
You shook your head. “I don’t even know.”
That made him laugh under his breath too.
And then he kissed you again before you could overthink it.
Slower this time.
Like he wasn’t in a rush to go anywhere.
His arms came around you properly now, holding you closer, grounding you there with him as the world blurred out completely.
Every time you pulled back slightly, it never lasted long — you’d end up laughing softly against him, breathless, and he’d just pull you in again like it was the most natural thing in the world.
a/n - dividers by @cursed-carminelikes comments and reblogs are very appreciated hehe
17 years after Paul Atreides takes the throne of Emperor and control of the Great Houses, he makes it his mission to unite the universe and remaining planets under his rule.
He and his army have conquered all but one planet left: Terra Millneium, a secretive yet diplomatic planet ruled by its new Imperial Empress.
And it is here Emperor Paul Atreides finds his match...
Warnings: 18+ only!, eventual smut, talks of war, violence, war, rivals to lovers ?, POC!reader, reader is written with brown/morena skin tone!, reader does have very long hair!, hopefully canon Paul!
Warnings Subject to Change Per Part!
A/N: the pictures used are not saying what Reader looks like, they are just inpo!!
!AGELESS & MINOR BLOGS WILL NOT BE ADDED TO ANY TAGLIST!
ᡣ𐭩 " a little licking on my clit (munch vers.) / a little suckin' on your dick " - ms. sancha.
ᡣ𐭩 dean winchester/reader (gender, race, nor size are specified), smut (oral sex (d!receiving) + edging, subby!dean, throat creampie (d!). not proofread, sam ver here (link tba).
ᡣ𐭩 how dean would respond to you giving him frenulum bjs/massages as a way to edge him .
ᡣ𐭩 Dean Winchester
Each brush of your lips against the sensitive underside to his cock made his hips stutter, fighting against the steady grip of your hand on his thigh. His head has long since been thrown back, grimace pulling relentlessly at the sharp features of his face. Even the dark woven fabric of his shirt couldn't hide the way his breath shuddered, coming and leaving as quick, hissed grits between his teeth.
"Shit," the look on his face could've been mistaken for excruciating pain if it weren't for the pathetic whimper that slipped under his radar of not giving you the satisfaction of watching him fall apart (something he's failed horrifically at). Dean forced a slow, shaky exhale as his eyelids fly open, rapid blinks doing nothing to mitigate the near painful throb between his legs.
You pull away from his cock with a smile, eyes locked on his despite his efforts to look away. Dean's nails dug deeper into the leather of your couch the second you ghosted a finger over his frenulum, gently rubbing back and forth in slow strokes as your other hand wrapped around the base. Another strangled sound left his throat when your gentle – borderline nonexistent – touch moved to run over the slit of his cock.
Beads of milky precum ran down the curve of his length, gathering around your fingers as you leaned closer to kitten-lick at the trail it left. Dean's cock twitched in your hand, his balls tightening with every small movement you made.
Sloppy, sideways kisses to the head of his cock blended into you lapping and swirling your tongue around the first inch of his length. The room soon filled with Dean's heavy sighs of pleasure and throaty, guttural curses alongside the wet, sloppy sounds of you teasing him. You spit onto his cock, quickly wrap your lips around him to suck it back into your mouth, then press your lips to his underside, tongue pushing the mixture of spit and pre back into his length.
"God, you're a fuckin' mess," he panted, hand coming to cup your slick chin as he finally let go of his composure. His green eyes darted over your face, lingering as if committing the sight of you kneeled and slick with both you and him to memory. You simply hummed a small "mhm" that trails of into a moan, pressing him back into your mouth as your hand pumps the rest of his length.
"mm, you fuckin' love that shit, don't you?" The combination of your words, the filthy image of you between his legs, and the lust-drunk chuckle that left your lips moments after tonguing at the head of his cock; Dean released a sound between a groan and a whine before throwing his head back yet again.
"Fuck, y'know I do," he panted. "Fuckin' love how nasty you are," Dean was cut off by an involuntary shout of pleasure when you suddenly took his length down to the base, throat squeezing tight.
Broken, half-minded babbling of how sexy you were and how good you made him feel spilled out of him like wine over a glass, filling the room with the echoes of his praise. It's not until your free hand gently massaged his balls that you knew he couldn't hold back much longer.
Dean's thighs jerked together – his tell-tale sign that he's moments from busting – as both of his hands flew to cradle your head. Thoughtless pumps of his hips into your mouth brought him to the very brink of pleasure, his bottom lip pulled painfully between the growing pressure of his teeth.
You let him throatfuck you until he's grunting, broken "jus' like that"s and "fuck, baby"s filling your ears as his cum gushed down your esophagus. Each swallow and added suction from your mouth coaxed more cum until he physically couldn't anymore. His hands that once held your face pawed at your shoulders, weak attempts at stopping the overstimulated pleasure racking his senses.
You pulled away with a grin, only to making a show of licking him clean and stuffing any remaining precum on your fingers into your mouth. He watched behind half-lidded eyes and parted lips, throat bobbing as his half-soft cock twitched at the sight.
"God, you're dirty," he huffed a bout of incredulous laughter, voice hoarse as he guides your lips to his. He groaned at his own taste heavy on your tongue and he deepens the kiss with no hesitation.
you simply laughed and nodded as he licked away the remaining arousal and spit off of your chin.
wes borland/gn! fem-presenting! poc reader, could be read as romantic or platonic, reader does this hairstyle on wes (just imagine it as his early 90s hair length), fred makes an appearance, fluff.
Wes flicked off the cap to one of your hair mousse products as he sat cross-legged in the chair to your vanity. You were sectioning off portions of his hair, the long strands still damp from when he washed his hair earlier. Your room, still slightly foggy from him showering, filled both of your senses with the familiar scent of your shampoo, conditioner, hair oil, and sweet-scented heat protectant. Wes had somehow managed to uncap, sniff, organize, and reorganize almost every perfume on your vanity in the span of 10 minutes — a new record for him.
For the past few weeks, Wes has been intently watching you do your hair and attempting to recreate it on his own — only to learn that not only is it harder than you make it look, but also he's absolutely shit at curling hair. He finally caved and asked you to do his hair for him, something you happily obliged to as long as he washed his hair first. Despite the effort it took him to sit completely still wasn't wholly successful, he had settled down much more than before. He sat with his knees tucked to his chest and his chin resting on his knees as he watched you work through the mirror.
You hummed along to one of the songs on the cassette tape Wes had filled with your favorite songs as you placed another thin, colorful elastic band around the tips if your thumb and index fingers, threading a section of twisted hair to join the other miniature ponytails at the crown of his head. Gently separating the section into two and tugging them apart to tighten the band, you watched as Wes turned his attention to one of the many containers of hair clips nearby.
Of course, he sifts through it, looking and appraising each hair pin until he finds these pearlescent plum-colored butterfly clips. The deep shade of purple glimmered with shades of teal and green under the light like little beetles, something he immediately liked.
"Can I borrow these?" He offers one for you to study. You make a small sound of agreement before taking it between your fingers and clamping it above one of the neon pink rubber bands holding his hair back. You mentally cataloged how pretty the purple complimented the color of his blonde roots as well as the rest of the toffee colored tresses. Purple and pink suited him surprisingly well, even when he's dressed up in his studded black choker, Metallica shirt, and worn out black jean shorts.
"Like that?" You asked, to which he nodded quickly. You grinned as he ransacked the container for any identical clips, mentally reminding yourself to take a picture of Wes before he left for the photoshoot he planned on doing with the rest of his band.
You had admired Wes' self-confidence long before you had gotten involved with him, noticing him around town as he hung out with his friends. I mean, it's not every day you meet a guy who styles his hair in space buns and walks around in taped-together sweaters and jean shorts big enough to cover his knees, especially not in Jacksonville. However, rather than letting it deter you from him and treating it as something to laugh at, you found yourself in awe of how pretty he looked and wondering what it would be like to get to know him.
Luckily, he didn't completely shut down when you decided to talk to him for the first time. Sure, he was a little awkward, but the tension eased the moment you brought up music. Turns out Wes had really good music taste, a fact that would bridge the gap between you two and turn into a friendship of swapping tapes and recommendations between hanging out with your respective friend groups.
You were ecstatic to finally see him play with his band, Limp Bizkit, at The Milk Bar. You remember watching completely starstruck as the near empty venue was filled with the intro into "Pollution" overwhelmed your senses. Your friends hated the music, but you got the vision pretty damn quickly. Once their set was over, your friends waited outside as you complimented Wes and his band on their music and asked if they planned on playing again any time soon. Since then, the rest has been history.
You were over halfway done, only needing to curl a few sections and to set them with hair pins and hair spray. Wes lifted another silver hair clip in your direction as you unwrapped a tight ringlet from your curling wand, scrunched it up, and sprayed it with hair spray before taking the pin and clipping it.
"Alright," you murmur as you pin the last section of hair. "All done. You have to keep these in until your ready to go out, okay?" you flick one of the silver pins. "It keeps the curl from losing its shape."
Wes nodded before admiring his hair in his reflection, brown eyes slightly wide as he takes in the finished product. Not only were you good at what you do, you somehow you managed to not burn the shit out of either of you in the process — something he would've done almost immediately.
He finally gets up and stretches his limbs, a groan leaving his body before he ducks his head into the mirror yet again. You couldn't help but smile as you took the camera he had brought with him and opened the side view, flicking on the camera to capture the moment.
You press record as he tucks one of the pin straight strands behind his ear, leaning over your vanity as he helped himself to adding a few more decorative clips where he saw fit.
"I'm assuming it's safe to say you like your hair?" Wes's eyes flicker to you, then the camera, his expression remaining deadpan as he blinked slowly at the lens. You snort when he gets up and immediately gets too close to the lens, making it blurry as you try to back up. "C'mon, Wes! Be serious!" You laugh as he narrows his eyes at the camera, flicks an eyebrow, and eyes the room suspiciously. He only breaks character when you slap his shoulder, a smile breaking across his features.
"Of course I like it," he says as he turns to lean again your vanity. You zoom in on him, capturing him from the waist up as he folded his hands under his chin and offered an exaggerated smile before devolving into a snarl and a few more silly faces that pull a string of laughter out of you.
He thanks you again, his attention briefly flicking away when you comment on how pretty he looks before settling on your bed, careful not to mess up the array of stuffed animals at the head of your mattress.
You couldn't help but capture the moment on the Polaroid camera on your night stand, rolling your eyes when he crosses his eyes and sneers at the camera just as the light flashes.
"Can you ever take a normal picture?" You ask with faux irritation, to which he replies with a smug "nope".
♔
The time from you finishing his hair and him getting ready to leave was filled with him answering questions you have about playing guitar — how long did it take him to get good? What the fuck is a whammy bar? What's the hardest and easiest songs he knows how to play? Despite you having no clue what he's talking about most of the time, you still do your best to understand to the best of your ability (even when you still get the string names mixed together). Eventually, the both of you end up on your plush shag carpet as you blow and wave your hand frantically over the second coat of glossy purple nail polish on his nails, both index fingers featuring a black and pink spiral design.
Time passed almost too quickly when you hear a car horn blare outside.
"C'mon, Wes! Get your ass down here!" The familiar sound of Fred's voice echoes across your street despite the time of night. Wes cursed as you helped unplug the miniature amp from the outlet in your wall and gather his things as he unclipped his hair. Sure enough, the curls kept their shape, gently bouncing with each movement he made.
You snap a quick candid photo of him slinging the strap of his guitar case across his chest, grinning as you open your bedroom door and hurry down the stairs to unlock your front door. You walk him out and wave goodbye as he approaches the band's van.
"Took your time, pretty boy," Fred shook his head with a small smirk as he narrowed his eyes at the guitarist's hair. A few wolf whistles and joking catcalls from Sam and John elicits a deadpan expression from Wes.
"Yeah, yeah, unlock the door, assholes." Wes raises a middle finger before packing his belongings into the back of the van. He turns back around to wave goodbye to you before shutting the back doors and hopping into the passenger's seat.
"Good luck, guys!" You call out as Fred raises a hand and nods once in goodbye. The van pulls off with a screech, the howls of Wes' bandmates giving him shit fading with each toss and turn of the vehicle. You shook your head with a an incredulous (and loving) scoff before turning on your heels and walking back into your home.
"You enjoy making me squirm, don’t you?" The thought seared through my mind as I peeled off the wet shirt clinging to my body like a second skin. Her gaze was scorching, drilling into my back even though I refused to meet it. Every move felt deliberate under the weight of her eyes, as if she were savoring the moment, letting it stretch unbearably thin.
“You are staring a lot,” I muttered. The suite's glass bathroom—so chic, so luxurious—suddenly felt like the cruelest design choice, offering no real privacy. Every outline of me was visible, every motion exaggerated by the soft light spilling in from the room. My skin prickled, equal parts exposed and defiant.
“I’m not the type to waste a good show.” Her voice was a low purr, curling through the air with the same sly confidence as her smirk. I didn’t need to turn around to know she was leaning back lazily, a predator with no intention of hiding the satisfaction etched into her features. Her tone teased and provoked, but there was a precision to her words that made my pulse quicken.
“Why do you even have a honeymoon suite?” I asked, turning over my shoulder, clutching the wet shirt to my chest. I walked to the tap to fill the tub, hoping the steam would fog the glass.
“Curious, and it has a jacuzzi,” she said, leaning back on the bed with a grin that screamed she wasn’t telling the whole truth.
“Got curious?” I chuckled, shaking my head. “Should’ve guessed.” I turned to the sink, undoing my hair and removing my makeup. “What other ‘perks’ does it come with?” I tried to keep my voice casual.
I rolled my eyes, catching her smirk in the reflection as I leaned closer to the mirror. The cool water against my skin contrasted sharply with the heat of her presence, a mix of physical warmth and something intangible—an emotional pull that I couldn’t quite name. It was the kind of heat that seemed to radiate from her every movement, her gaze heavy with intent, setting my nerves alight. I tried to focus on the water, its soothing chill a lifeline, but the magnetic tension in the air made it impossible to ignore her presence entirely. I could hear the bed creak as she shifted, her movements deliberate, amplifying the tension in the room.
“And do you bring people here often to enjoy these perks?” I asked, feigning nonchalance.
“No,” she said, her voice deliberate. “Only when the company is worth it.”
Her words made me pause, my hands stilling mid-motion as a sudden warmth spread across my cheeks. I bit the inside of my lip, willing the heat to subside, but the flutter in my chest betrayed me. My fingers hovered over the sink, desperate to keep moving, to distract myself from the way her words clung to the air like an unspoken challenge. I fought the urge to glance at her, afraid of what her gaze might reveal—and worse, what mine might betray. My chest tightened, a strange mix of irritation and something warmer bubbling to the surface. Her tone felt too precise, as if she could see through the careful façade I had been holding onto all night. Part of me bristled at her audacity, but another part—a quieter, more dangerous part—wanted to hear more.
Clearing my throat, I busied myself with undoing my hair, letting the damp strands fall over my shoulders. “Enjoying the perks?” she teased, her tone playful but laced with something deeper.
I glanced at her reflection. She lounged on the bed, her frame stretched out, eyes fixed on me with an intensity that sent a shiver down my spine. I hated how much I liked it.
I ignored her, turning back to the tub. The steam curled up in languid, sinuous tendrils, clinging to the glass like whispers of tension, blurring the world beyond into soft, unrecognizable shapes. It mirrored the dynamic between us—veiled, charged, and impossible to fully grasp—offering me a fragile, fleeting sense of privacy while also amplifying the unspoken electricity that hummed just outside its reach. It felt like a fragile barrier between us, a fleeting sense of privacy. I folded my stockings neatly, trying to focus on the simple task instead of the way my heart raced.
“You know,” she said, her voice cutting through the quiet, “you don’t have to work so hard to avoid me. I’m not going to bite.”
“Unless I ask nicely, right?” I shot back, surprising myself with my boldness. Her soft, rich laugh filled the room, and I bit my cheek to keep from smiling.
The tub was nearly full, so I stepped into the fancy looking bathtub. The warmth of the water melted the night’s tension, the jets gently massaging my back as soft ripples caressed my skin. The subtle scent of lavender from the bath oils mingled with the steam, creating an intoxicating cocoon that dulled the chaos of the evening. The sound of the water cascading from the ornate faucet echoed softly against the marble walls, a symphony of luxury that felt almost surreal. The gold accents on the tub’s edges glinted in the dim light, reminding me of just how out of place I should have felt—but somehow didn’t. Every detail of the bathroom, from the heated tiles underfoot to the faint glow of candles lining the shelves, worked to draw me further into a state of reluctant comfort, even as I knew she was outside, her gaze capable of piercing even this mist-filled sanctuary. The steam cocooned me, shielding me momentarily from the charged air waiting outside.
"I hope you’re enjoying yourself in there," her voice floated into the bathroom, smooth and teasing, breaking through the tranquility of the steam-filled air. My eyes blinked open, the serenity of the bath momentarily shattered.
"What are you doing?! Get out!" I sank deeper into the foamy water, the bubbles rising around me like a shield. Snatching up the nearest loofah, I hurled it in her direction, though it barely grazed the edge of the doorway. "At least knock, you idiot!"
She laughed, the sound rich and unapologetic, and casually placed a folded T-shirt and something else on the dry sink. "No need to get violent, bubbles," she drawled, her grin maddeningly smug. "I’m just being thoughtful and bringing you some clothes... though I won’t mind if you decide you don’t need them."
I glared at her, my cheeks burning, but she only winked at me before tossing the loofah back into the water with practiced nonchalance. "Relax, bubbles," she added with a smirk, backing out of the room and leaving me alone once more—baffled, flustered, and very much aware of the mischievous energy she’d left behind, lingering like the steam in the air.
