Prenderellie

I'll put the description of the modern writer here: "She who reads much too much, writes some with splendor and fangirls the rest of the time."

[theprenderelliepalace]

Masterlist

BBC Sherlock

Series:

What She Wrote: You're accused of murder. The only man who can help you? Sherlock Holmes - of course, you know something that could tear his world apart if he refuses to take your case, starting with threatening Mycroft. Will he see behind your cunning or fall for your trap?

Pt 1

The Vampire Diares

Perception series: Y/n has always had the powers of perception. So when she drops some books off at the Salvatore residence, she expects to find trouble, being the odd one out and everything, she doesn't expect his name to be Damon Salvatore.

Pt 1

Pt 2

Pt 3

Pt 4

AU's and ONESHOTS

Heartbreak campus (Damon x reader) Angst/fluff

The Originals

Au's and oneshots:

Countless (Klaus x reader) Angst/ AU

Harry Potter

Au's and oneshots:

Harry James Potter x Reader:

Invisible Good catch Took you long enough

Harry Potter: The Marauders

Series:

Observing Laine Crowley: Lily Evans has noticed something odd. Her fifth year was nothing new. She still hated James Potter's friends just as much as she hated James Potter, but she had a new problem... Sirius Black seems to be falling for the wrong girl without anybody noticing. What does a villain like Black have to offer a girl like Laine Crowley, and why does Lily care so much?

Pt 1

AU's and ONESHOTS

James Potter

A Simple Christmas

Captains orders

The Umbrella Academy

AUs and ONESHOTS

Five Hargreeves

Tag, you owe me

Not Her

[theprenderelliepalace]

It Took You Long Enough

Harry James Potter x goldentrio!reader Harry asks you to help him discover what Draco Malfoy is scheming because you happen to have a free period, not realizing the kind of trouble he’s caused you and is about to cause for himself…

Mentions of smut, dubious consent, mentioned ab*se, sassy!Harry (basically read at your own discretion), canonical evil!Draco Malfoy, it's a long one y'all, some Romione...

*GIF not mine- credit to all IP Owners

~~~~

“Harry, you're being ridiculous. If Malfoy,” You suppressed a shudder at the very thought of him. “Was up to something, don’t you think Dumbledore would know? Don’t you think Snape would tell him?” You tried to sound reasonable, you tried to sound patient, but Merlin, was this boy making it difficult. 

“And if Snape’s plotting against Dumbledore with Malfoy? What then? Because I can tell you right now that Draco is doing something.” He glared. 

“Alright. Fine. I agree he’s up to something. But I don’t want to do it. Get a first year or something.” You tried to brush past him, but he caught your wrist, that famous Harry Potter grin that had tormented you for years stopping you in your tracks. 

“Please. Come on, just this one favour.” You scowled at him. 

“Don’t bat your eyelashes at me Potter.” He chuckled, it made your heart stutter. 

“But then how else would I get you to do me favors?” He tilted his head, glasses dangerously close to falling off the end of his nose. 

“Oh Merlin, just kiss already.” Ron sighed, coming to sit next to you for breakfast. 

“If Harry wanted to kiss me Ron, he’d actually have to admit he has feelings. You know how he is about those.” You snarked, smirking. 

‘Fair.” Ron said without batting an eye, mouth full already.”What’s he holding your hand for then?” 

Harry flushed, feeling caught even though he wasn’t entirely sure why. He’d held your hand plenty of times without fuss. He dropped your hand gently into your lap and leaned against the table. “Will you do it or not Y/l/n?”

‘Do what?” Ron asked. 

“Spy on Malfoy. I don’t have Transfiguration with you lot today.” You held his gaze, Harry felt very much like he was in an old Western, about to draw as a tumbleweed rolled by. 

“What? Harry, don't be daft.” Ron looked outraged as he peaked around you to look at Harry, who was still unblinking in your staring competition. When neither of you answered. Ron turned, disgruntled, back to his breakfast. “You two are made for each other.” 

You blinked. “Fine.” 

“Yes!” 

—

“So?” Harry leapt up from his seat, the common room was bustling with students, most of whom looked up at him as he sprung towards you as you clambered in from the portrait hole. 

“Your boyfriend,” You scowled, dusting yourself off. “Has just spent all this time hitting on me.” You dodged Harry, who by this time had gone from surprised, to outraged to positively murderous. “My advice? Break up with him now before he breaks your heart, Harry.” You plopped down on the couch by the fire next to Ron who was hosing himself with uncontainable laughter. 

“Y/n, really, what a thing to say.” Stammered a very flustered Hermione. 

“He was flirting with you?” Harry spluttered. “Malfoy was?” Harry sat on the arm of the couch next to you, an overwhelming urge to make sure you were alright being superseded by the urge to kill Draco Malfoy where he stood next time Harry laid eyes on him. “Why?” 

You dropped your head against the back of the couch, looking very tired. “Well I had to tell him something when he caught me following him, didn’t I?” You huffed. 

“Ahahahah… Oh Y/n, that was brilliant, I can’t believe you.” Ron wheezed, wiping tears from his eyes. Harry might’ve been performing silent hexes for the look he shot Ron. 

“Hush Ron, can’t you see you’re upsetting Harry.” Hermione fussed, although, she too, had a rosy flush on her face and an amused grin painting her lips. 

“What did you tell him Y/n?” Harry demanded. 

“Merlin Harry! Use your head!” You shot up from the couch and began pacing before the fire. “He’s a righteous twat, Malfoy, ugh, but he’s had a thing for me since fourth year anyways, so I just sort of… let him believe I was interested?” You ran your hands through your hair, a harsh crease between your brows as you tried to plan out your next move. 

“WHAT?” Harry and Ron said together, both positively furious now. 

“Oh Y/n that wasn’t clever. What if he tries to… You know?” Hermione looked up at you anxiously, sitting at the edge of her seat. 

“Absolutely not.” Harry seethed. 

“Yeah Mione, what Harry said. No way is that slimey git going anywhere near Y/n.” Ron huffed, standing up to join you by the fire as if to prove he was indeed going to protect you from Malfoy who must be lurking around the corner waiting to strike. 

“Because he’ll be sorry if he so much as looks at you.” Harry said darkly, clenching his fist around his wand so that his knuckles turned white. 

You stepped away from Ron, your arms crossing over your chest. “Alright listen,” You spun on Harry, finger jutting into his chest reproachfully. “No, you will listen Potter, because you asked me to do this for you.” You started pacing again. “Right, Malfoy thinks I’m just some silly girl who thinks he’s pretty-” 

“Pretty? Have you gone mental? He’s a blond toad at best.” Ron grimaced. Harry had to fight off the intense desire to punch something. He didn’t know exactly why he felt like a fiery dragon of rage was fighting to claw its way out of his chest and wrap itself protectively around Y/n, but it was driving him mad. 

“So,” You continued as though you hadn't been interrupted. “He already wants me right? So, if we can make him believe that  I’ve had a falling out with you Harry, he might trust me…” You turned to Hermione. “Right?” 

Hermione grimaced, flinching at the look Harry shot her. “It’s far-fetched. I mean, you are a Gryfindoor, even if he has liked you since third year-” 

“Third? I thought it was fourth?” Hermione shook her head at you, wishing she hadn't because Harry’s gaze was probably the most intimidating thing in this room at that moment. “Oh, nevermind. If he thinks he’s won me over from Harry, he’ll definitely be distracted enough that we can find out what he’s up to.” 

“Won you over?” Harry got up to stand in front of you, voice quiet in that way that would make anyone duck for cover. You simply stood your ground and glared. “And tell me, in this brilliant plan of yours, have you considered what he’ll do to you once he discovers that you’re trying to uncover his master plan?” 

Ron surreptitiously went to stand behind Hermione’s armchair, fearing for his immediate safety, both of you looked more scary than the other. “I hate when they do this.” He whispered into her hair, she nodded, entranced by the scene in front of them. 

“Masterplan?” You laughed. ‘Please Harry, don’t make me laugh. He’s an idiot. You’re the one who’s obsessed with him. If he’s suddenly become a Deatheater, I think that’s worth a little acting to find out. Don't you?” You quirked an unamused brow. 

“Obsessed isn’t the word I'd use.” He said hotly. 

“And what do you call this little display? Hmm? Because lucky you, I watch the tellie during the holidays.” You moved around him, grabbing your bag from where you slung it onto the floor at the foot of the couch. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He spun around to watch you sling it over your shoulder. 

“Lucky for you, I’m in a junior theater troupe back home.” You snarled. 

‘So?” 

“So, lucky for you I’m a bloody good little actress. I’m doing this, Harry. It’s important. Like you said, we have to know what his mission is. And so help me, you asked me to help you do this, if you screw it up, I swear I’ll hex you into next week.” You tromped off  past a couple of frightened first-years who dived to get out of your way as you marched up to the girl’s dormitory. 

He spun back on Hermione and Ron. “Mione, you have to talk her out of this.” He barked. Hermione's gaze followed your figure up the stairs with a sort of tired air about her face. 

“I might’ve been able to if it hadn’t been you who asked Harry.” She set her book down on one of the side tables and pressed her forehead into her hand. “She knows how much this Draco thing has been bothering you this year…” 

“Hermione, you can’t be serious.” Ron guffawed from behind her. “What, you gonna let her snog Draco Malfoy?” The dragon coiling around Harry’s chest roared in immense rage. He spun back to glance up at the girl’s dormitories. 

“She wouldn’t…” He muttered. 

“She might, Harry.” Hermione whispered. “If it helps Draco trust her.” She sunk her head in her hands. “Oh, why’d you have to ask Y/n? You know how stubborn she is.” 

Harry simply stared up at the place where he’d last seen you, the last place he was categorically sure you were his, even if he hadn’t realized that was what you had been, and now… “I don’t know…” He said truthfully. 

—

The next few weeks of his life were quite possibly the most miserable he’d ever had at Hogwarts. He could handle the whispers when they had been about him, the looks, the judging, the glares, but now that they were about you? It made him livid. He wanted to hex anyone he heard whispering about how you were a House traitor, he wanted to bite anyone’s head off if they even spoke a word about you to him, he wanted to run up to you and snatch you away from Malfoy and kiss you until you realized how much you needed him, he wanted to never speak to you again, he wanted to tell you all of this, like he had always done. He wanted things to go back to normal, because right now they were very much not normal.

You still sat with them at breakfast, you passed secret notes to him under the table, your fingers brushing his tentatively as you slipped the paper between his, but you didn’t look at him, didn’t utter a word. You had been right, you were a very good little actress. You may have joked with your other friends at the Gryffindor table, but it was Malfoy you walked to class, it was Malfoy you smiled at like you’d smiled at Harry a million times before. It was reserved, but it seemed to be doing an excellent job of convincing him that you had moved on from Harry. That Malfoy had stolen something Harry Potter was supposed to have… 

But did you really think that’s how he saw you? As somebody that he’d won over, as somebody who he didn’t take seriously enough to value your opinion, your feelings, your aspirations? Did you really think he thought so little of you? Because, the more he felt your absence in his life, the more he thought about how much you filled it. Your warmth in the cold corridors, your bright laugh that could light up the darkest night, your beautiful smile that could melt all of his doubts at once. Dear God he’d been stupid. 

“Hermione,” He said in Charms, watching with a venomous bile rising in his throat as Malfoy slipped his arm around you and shot Harry a nasty smirk over his shoulder. “I think I might end up in Azkaban for murder if this doesn’t stop soon.” He glared. 

“Oh Harry, you read her last letter. Draco hasn’t given up anything important yet. She has to keep doing this.” She whispered, looking incredibly worry-worn. 

“Yeah, I’m not so much worried about what he’s said or hasn’t said when he’s doing that to her.” He growled. Feeling utterly repulsed as he watched Draco press his lips to your neck.  

“It's awful isn't it?” She sighed sadly. “She told me he’s really pushy with her.” Harry spun around, the sudden motion causing a few other students to jump. 

“Muffliato. What do you mean ‘pushy?’” 

Hermione looked horror-struck, like she’d suddenly found herself falling off a steep cliff. “Nothing Harry. You're- you’re not doing your refill charm properly. Let me help.” She tried to grab his water goblet from out under his arms. He clamped his hand loosely over her wrist. 

“Hermione, what’s he doing to her? Tell me right now, or so help me I will levicorpus_ his arse off the Astronomy Tower.” Hermione quivered. 

“Please Harry, she begged me not to tell you!” She looked almost tearful. “She’s fine. She’s sorting it out. Y/n would never speak to me again… Oh, I shouldn’t have said anything.” Students all around them started to get up and collect their things at the toll of the bell. Harry stayed firmly planted in his seat. 

His heart was pounding so fast he feared it might jump out of his chest. “Do you mean he wants to…” Harry searched Hermione's face, praying that he was wrong, praying that he’d misunderstood, praying that he hadn’t let this happen to you just to satisfy his hunch. He only found her teary gaze of affirmation. 

He shot up from his seat and bolted out of the classroom. “Harry!” He ignored her, he ignored everything, the disgruntled mumblings of the students he knocked out of the way as he shoved past the throng of them heading to the Great Hall for lunch. What had he been thinking? Making you do this… He hated himself more in that moment than he ever had in his life. He’d hurt you. He’d hurt you by assuming you’d always be there for him and now he wasn’t there for you. 

You only tried to help, you’d been doing this all for him. 

He darted up the stairs looking to the left, and at last he caught a glimpse of your beautiful face, taught in anxiety as Draco led you down an abandoned corridor. His stomach dropped out from beneath him and in that moment he forgot how to breathe. 

Suddenly his feet seemed to unstick from the floor and he bolted again, he could catch up if he ran. He could stop it if he ran. He had to keep running. He didn’t care that his feet ached and his lungs burned, he didn’t care about anything but you. 

“Draco, not here okay? There’s people.” You winced, his hands over your hips pulled you flush against him.

“What’s the matter, pet? Worried Potter’s around to see? I hope he bloody is.” He sneered, titling your chin up to his face. He kissed you. It wasn’t soft, it was hungry and greedy and possessive. It made your stomach turn, but you gingerly reciprocated. You felt disgusted with yourself as you let his hands slip under your shirt, trailing your bare skin, but you knew Malfoy would trust you completely if he had his way with you. You thought about Hermione who had warned you to get out, to quit while you were ahead. Then you thought of Harry, who had lost so much, who had suffered so much. You were sure his hunch was right, you hadn’t seen the Dark Mark on Draco’s forearm, but he’d refused to let you touch him at the wrist, actually shoving you against a bookshelf, bruising your shoulder when you’d tried to sneak a look the other day. It ached now where he pressed you into the wall. 

“Draco, please people will see…” He sighed, biting your lip in protest, it tasted like your own blood in your mouth as he pulled back. 

“That’s why we’re on the seventh floor darling.” He grinned cruelly. “I know where to get a room when I need one.” He glanced over at the ugly tapestry of the line-up of troll-ballerinas and looked back at you, it scared you, that darkness in his eyes. You followed his gaze. 

“Oh.” You should’ve realized. 

“Come on.” He grinned evilly. 

“Draco, darling, please not right now. We have ages for that.” You let your hands hang on to the front of his robes, putting on your best smile, batting your eyelashes at him. “I’m starving anyways. Let’s get something to eat-” 

“What? Scared Y/l/n?” He taunted, stepping right up to your face, his grip harsh as he took a hold of your wrist. “See, I think a good shag will get Potter right out of your head. And then, he can look at you all pretty and wrecked for me _and know I won.” 

“I don’t care about Potter. I told you that- hmph!” He snatched your mouth in his, it was rough and careless. 

“And when we get in there, you really won’t care about him.” He dragged you down the hall. “Come on.” 

You wanted to fight, you wanted to pull out your wand and hex him, you wanted to run into Harry’s arms just to feel safe again. Your hands shook as he dragged you still, your breath ragged. You could still run, you could still escape. You pulled out of his grasp, taking a staggering step backwards, shaking your head. “No, I’m not sleeping with you.” You couldn’t, you couldn’t bring yourself to do that to yourself, or to Harry. Not when your love for the Boy Who Lived was the only thing keeping you alive. 

“You little-” His nostrils flared and he seethed as he rounded on you. He drew his wand and pointed. “Have it your way. If I can’t have you, let’s make sure Potter won’t even want to touch you.”

“Expelliarmus!” You watched as Malfoy’s wand flew out of his hand and down the corridor. Malfoy spun on Harry who was racing towards you. He reached you, putting his arm out and shoving you behind him. “Don’t even think about it Malfoy.” He pointed his wand at Malfoy’s chest, deterring him from running for his wand. “Y’alright?” He panted, sparing you a glance and hating the way his chest tightened as he spotted the blood on your lip. “I swear I’’ll kill him.” He growled, stepping forwards. Malfoy cowered, hands over his face as he shucked himself against the wall. 

You flung both your arms around his middle, pulling his back flush against you. It made his heart sore and plummet all at once. He didn’t dare look at you, fearing seeing the tears that were soaking through his robes would break him and he’d do something unforgivable. “He hurt you love…” Harry whispered. 

“I don’t care. I just want you.” Is all you could say, your voice trembling, eyes screwed shut. 

“Yeah Potter, take your little slut with you. She’s easy enough-” 

“Locomotor Mortis!” Harry didn’t know why that was the first spell that popped into his head, but it felt right. “You have no idea who you just lost, Malfoy. Maybe a taste of your own medicine will fill you in. Y/n’s too good to even breathe the same air as you.” You hugged his back a little tighter at that. 

“I’ll have you expelled for this! You’ll regret this! Both of you.” He cried. 

You peaked around Harry and glared at the Slytherin boy, pathetically wallowing in the dark like an oversized slug. “You can tell whoever you want, Malfoy. But if I'm such a slut, I suppose you won’t mind me telling the whole school that I crawled back to Harry because I needed a more impressive stature than you’ve got.” Harry blushed, deep and red and dear God he loved you. 

“That’s not- I - You can’t- You never saw-” You laughed, it was cool and light, but honestly? Harry thought it was the sexiest thing he’d ever heard. 

“But nobody else knows that, do they?” Just like that you pulled him by his hand, fingers lacing with his as you ran together. 

“Where are we going?” He breathed, overcome by you like you were the sun after a hailstorm had blown over. 

You glanced at him briefly, laughing as you went. “Anywhere.” He didn’t know how long you’d been running, all his peripherals were consumed by you as he followed like a love-sick puppy. Suddenly you made a hard right and dragged him into a secret passage. “Lumos.” You were chest to chest now, an excited gleam making your face glow brighter than your wand. 

“That was brilliant.” He breathed, glasses askew. You fixed them for him, your fingers brushing over his cheek. He caught your hand in his and held it to his face. “Y/n-” 

“He’s using the Room Of Requirement.” Harry baulked. 

“What?” 

You grinned. “Malfoy. That’s where he’s going. That’s why you can’t find him on the map. That’s where he’s going. I don’t why, but at least it’s a start-” Harry couldn’t help himself, he needed to wash away all thought of Malfoy from your pretty mind. He took your face softly in his hands and kissed you like you hung the stars. It was soft and loving, pooling against your lips like Amortentia itself. He didn’t have to say all the words rattling around in his head, he didn’t have to get on his knees and beg for your forgiveness like he intended to for the rest of his life. You felt it all through his kiss, his touch, his heartbeat as your hands splayed over his chest. 

“I love you.” He whispered, like a prayer and a plea all at once, not quite able to meet your gaze. “I love you and I was too stupid to realize… I thought you’d never have to face Malfoy when I asked you to spy on him that day. I thought I'd always be there to keep you safe from him, I thought you’d always let me…” He held you gently, afraid you’d simply vanish if he let go. “You’ve been my best friend forever, you’re my person Y/n. You’re the only one who hears me when I need to get something off my chest and you fight back when I’m being a git, and you keep me sane and you see me.” He looked at you finally, green eyes glassy. “You drive me mad, but it’s only because I’m madly in love with you. I get that now.” 

The air was thick with emotion, pulsing with electricity and positively supercharged with something wild and untamable. “Harry…” 

“I get it if you hate me too. I was horrible to you. I was crazy to let you spy on Draco… I’ll leave you be if that’s what you want…” 

“Harry-” 

“I’ll never speak to you again if you ask me to, but I need to hear you say you forgive me. I won’t live with myself if-” 

“HARRY!” You laughed disbelievingly. “Look at me you numpty. “ He did as he was told, his brows furrowed in confusion. “You- you. Oh, I don’t even know what to say to you.” You shook your head and tugged him towards you by his collar. Your lips crashed against his and you lapped up his moans like they were your lifeblood. You slipped your tongue into his mouth, your hands cradling his face. You drew apart for breath, letting your face nuzzle into the crook of his neck. “I love you too, you git.” 

Harry looked down at you, a little lost, incredibly happy, but still a little lost. “Really? I mean, you’re not… You love me?” He asked, a slow dorky smile spreading over his face. 

“Since forever ago.” You smiled. “Otherwise why would I subject myself to Malfoy_ if not for you?” 

“I hadn’t quite worked that out yet.” He smiled back, pulling you into him, hands steadying you at your hips. 

“You getting there Potter?” 

“Starting to.” He kissed you again. 

“Ow.” He pulled back with a frown, tracing his thumb over your bruised lip. “Sorry, keep kissing me.” You pulled his attention back to your gaze. He hesitated. “Oh, Harry, it doesn't matter now. Alright? I forgive you. Happy? Kiss me.” 

He frowned, ducking his lithe fingers under your collar and exposing some of the bruise on your shoulder. “I think the leg locker curse was simply too kind.” 

“Look at me.” He obliged, but his mind was solely focused on the ways he liked best to make Malfoy wish he’d never even looked at you. “Ugh, come here.” You whispered into his ear, leaving a small kiss just underneath as if to seal your idea permanently into his brain. 

Harry was quiet for a moment, thinking. “Marry me?” 

You laughed, it was officially his favorite sound. “Kiss me again and I'll think about it.” 

“Deal.” It was a long time before you emerged from that passageway. 

~Fin~

~~~~ Hope you lot had fun reading this. I had fun writing it. Please don't steal my work or put it into AI. It's not very magical to be a copycat y'all. Okayyyy byyyyee <3

[theprenderelliepalace]

Good Catch

Harry James Potter x bsf!reader ~ Harry's your best friend in all the world, but he's also the love of your life and the one person you've been trying to avoid more than anything. Except now that everyone has gone home for the holidays, who do you happen to run into but, the boy you can never have?

~ Some self-loathing, some fluffy angst, use of Y/n, perhaps not the greatest literary work I've ever written... I dunno, but never the less I hope it appeals to all of you out there needing a cute teenage romance in their lives (if I missed any warnings, we'll all live I think, but let me know)

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

You sat on the banister overlooking the Great Lake. Your scarf wrapped around you tightly as the winter chill bit at your skin, the soft glow of sunset as it sunk into the twilight hours pulling a sort of sleepiness over you like a blanket.

You were doing it again, thinking about Harry. You were thinking about the way he smiled at Ron's stupid quip the other day, you were thinking about the patient gleam he had in his eyes when he spoke to Luna about some ridiculous conspiracy she was interested in this week. You were thinking about that time after potions that he glanced your way and you saw an almost red tint to his cheeks… But no. You were imagining that last one right?

You sighed, frustrated with yourself. Harry was the Chosen One, he was your best friend in all the world. He had too much on his plate already to be worried about your insipid crush. You clutched at your scarf, your knuckles turning white. It wasn't just a crush though was it? You loved him.

You let your face fall into your lap, your arms wrapping around your head to shield you from the noise of the empty corridor.

“Y/n? You alright?” A hand was at your elbow before the words even finished leaving his mouth. You jumped, wobbling slightly, you gasped as you felt yourself tipping away from the banister and suddenly he was holding you close to him, breathing heavily.

“Blimey Harry! You scared me half to death!” You whispered into his collar, letting yourself take in his scent for just a fraction too long, praying he didn't see your red-rimmed eyes and rosy cheeks.

“Clearly, you almost fell 50 feet to prove it.” He sounded amused, but his grip hadn't quite loosened up. He was like that now though. Ever since the Ministry in 5th year, he always seemed a little more protective of you.

At first you hated it, but then it became natural, like it was what he was supposed to do. Sometimes it made you feel like there was a sliver of hope, like he might return your feelings… But how could he? You were just you.

“It's been a hard day.” You gave him a watery chuckle, slipping out of his grip and away from the banister, leaning heavily against the nearest wall. Harry still seemed determined to hold on to some small part of you, so he grabbed the end of your scarf in his long, lithe fingers and let the soft fabric fall through like water, like he'd done a million times before.

“Oh yeah?” He tried to keep his voice neutral.

You nodded, your head thumping against the wall as you started to get lost in an overwhelming sense of displacement. “‘S alright though. I'm fine.”

Harry frowned. “Don't do that.”

You looked up at him, startled. “Do what?”

“Pretend like I don't see you're upset Y/n. It drives me mad.” He pursed his lips, his confession a weight on an invisible scale between you that was steadily tipping. He stepped in front of you, his hands on your upper arms as if to prove that you were still corporeal. “Talk to me. For a change.”

You smiled disbelievingly at him, trying to find the words to worm your way out of this, to make your best friend believe that he was only being silly, of course there was nothing wrong. “I am talking to you.” You gave him your sweetest smile as you lied.

He dropped his head, frustration radiating off him like heat waves. He pulled back from you, hands dropping limply to his sides. “Okay Y/n. Let's get you back to the common room, yeah?” He said it with such tenderness, even though he couldn't quite bring himself to look at you.

“Harry?”

Green eyes, worn and closed-off found yours, glistening and beseeching. “Hmm?”

“I'm in love with you.”

All of a sudden it was like someone had let the air out of a balloon. His shoulders untensed, his brows shot up into his hairline, his mouth floundered for words that didn't want to come.

You let out a choked sob and bolted, you couldn't take his rejection, not now, not when so many things were festering in your mind's eye and all you could do was listlessly watch the love of your life slowly hate you.

His hand shot out for your elbow, catching it with ease. You cursed his Seeker skills. “Let go of me Harry-” You tried to struggle out of his grip, but he held on for dear life.

“Y/n wait-” He said breathlessly.

“Harry just leave it! Okay? It doesn't matter.” Tears slipped down your cheeks, you couldn't look at him. You wouldn't.

“Y/n, love, look at me.”

You screwed your eyes shut, realizing struggling was pointless, tears still spilled down your crimson cheeks. A gentle palm found your cheek, turning your face towards his.

“Sweetheart, please. Look at me.” He whispered, hand grounding you, presence tethering you. Finally, you obliged. Your eyes opened slowly, like you were blinking at the watery sight of the sun shining mesmerizingly before you.

Has he always looked at you like that? “Y/n?”

“Harry-”

“I'm going to kiss you now.”

“What? Harry! Hmph-” You melted. You actually melted into him. His lips were soft and warm, his urgency apparent in the way he seemed like a boy starved. It wasn't soft and romantic, but it was sweeping. It was an avalanche of years worth of emotions and words unsaid.

Your arms wrapped around his neck, drawing him in closer, his hands dropped from your face and held you steady at your hips, pulling you flush against him. His hair tickled your nose but you couldn't be hard-pressed to tell him so.

You hummed into his kiss as he pulled back for air, glasses fogged and slightly askew. You giggled and righted them for him, like it was only natural, like nothing had happened. Yet, something did happen, and the evidence was his thumbs rubbing soothing circles over the sensitive patch of skin above your hips.

You tried to worm out of his grasp. “That was…” You bite your lip to hide your grin.

Harry pulled you back into his chest. His gaze so utterly adoring it made you more jittery than his hands at your hips had done. “Brilliant.” He beamed. His gaze darted down to his hands and then back to find your expectant face.

He hesitated for a second. “You said you love me.” He couldn't help the grin that settled over his face. He tilted his head, “That’s still true, right?”

You flushed a luminescent shade of pink. “Of course it's still true you git!” You shoved his chest lightly. “What, did you think I'd changed my mind?”

“No. But if you had, I'd just kiss you until you did.” He titled your chin up with his forefinger, his lips brushing against yours with a startling amount of softness, like he was exploring now.

“Oh… Well then I changed my mind.” You smirked, taking a step away from him now that he was distracted enough.

He grinned, pulling you back again, kissing you senseless again.

You pulled apart, breathless. He rested his forehead against yours. “You have no idea how much I love you.” He murmured.

“Really?” Your lips parted. “How… How long?”

He smiled. “Ages. But apparently I'm not the only one who needs glasses.”

“That's rubbish! I am not that blind. You- I- you never mentioned…” You trailed off, because now you thought about it, there were signs. The pet names were the most dazzling give-away. The need to be touching any small corner of your person at any time, the fierce overprotectiveness, the times you've caught him staring. “But, I thought it was just … Since I nearly died last year… I thought-”

“Yeah, over-thought, more like. I thought you must've hated me. I thought that's why you never mentioned it. All the, uh, times you caught me looking at you.” He seemed boyishly bashful now, his hand rubbing the back of his neck.

“What, what changed your mind?” You were giving him this look, one you didn't even really register, but hell if it didn't make his knees buckle.

“Hermione actually. You know how she's been, well she and Ron haven't been speaking.” He laughed. “Well, she said I shouldn't make the same mistake with you before she left yesterday.”

“Right.” A slow, easy smile was starting to spread across your face. “You love me.” You said it more to yourself really, to make sure this was real and not another one of your dreams.

“Always have.” He kissed your temple, watching you fondly as you mulled this new development over.

“Harry?” He was kissing your cheek, your jaw, lapping you up like he was dying of thirst.

“Hmm?”

You squirmed under his touch, his thumbs circling that spot again. “That really tickles.”

The grin that struck him was enchanting, and wild and incredibly handsome. “I thought so.”

“Harry!” You giggled, your laughter echoing down the empty hall.

“Shh. Shh.” He smiled. “Is that Filch?” He perked up, straining to hear anything from down the passage.

“Run.” You said quietly, feet firmly glued to the cobbled stone. “Run,” You pulled him by his sweater. “Go, go!” You giggled, pulling him along by his hand and racing back towards Gryffindoor tower.

Fin

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Cutesy romance makes me smile, hope you did too <3 If you felt like reading more here's my Masterlist Also all credit for the images goes to their original IP owners and in a similar vein, please don't copy my IP and put it into AI or redistribute without my consent or commit any copyright infringement abuses before I've had my morning coffee y'all it's not cool.

[theprenderelliepalace]

The Sins We Share

House x afab!coworker!reader

You hate the way House seems to look through you. Like he knows what's going on in your head before you do, and you most definitely hate that he's on the cusp of finding out how you really feel about him. The question is: Will he do something about it? Smut: oral, m!receiving, fingering, unprotected piv, creampie, TW drug abuse, swearing, cannon typical House sarcasm, bratty reader (this is only half-proof read sorry), I like to think that this is good and not embarrassing but ... Here we go I guess...

The thing about working for House was that it kept you very high-strung. It kept your thoughts whirring at the speed of a freight train and frankly, it was exhausting. 

Not only are you batting for him, you’re on the defense all the same. Dodging the snarky, bitey comments that are laced with a friction you don’t really understand the origin of –  but it’s those quiet moments that keep you on your toes and darken the bags under your eyes. 

You know House well enough to understand that any vulnerability he shares with you is accidental. The late night beer on the balcony after a tough case, the stories he’s let slip past the cracks in his facade, the looks he’d give you. You didn’t feel like he was dissecting you with those piercing blues anymore, you felt like he was unraveling your very soul. 

Every time you smiled too easily, or forgave too quickly, you saw that look. It wasn’t measuring or discerning, it was a quiet observation, a nameless analysis of your heart that couldn’t compare to the way he solved a case with a gun to its head. It was soft and meant only for you. 

You hated it. You hated the way it made your heart beat out of your chest, you hated the way it made your cheeks flush every time you caught sight of it – and the more you saw it, the worse it got. Just as you were smart enough to know House as well as you did, you were smart enough to realize when he started wanting you to catch him. 

He’d smirk like the smug bastard he is and then he’d turn back to the whiteboard like it never happened. You hated how easy he had it, reading you like a picture book. It was maddening. 

“What d’ya say to a couple drinks tonight Y/l/n?” Chase asked as he slammed his locker shut, a grin on his face that meant trouble finding the corner of your eye. You turned to him fully, sighing as you gave him an apologetic smile. 

“Sorry Outback, I have a research paper to work on. Apparently doctors have real work to do if they want a chance in the limelight. Who knew?” You closed your own locker, the soft click a reminder of reality. You composed yourself, tightening your grip on the strap of your purse. 

“You sure?” He asked innocently. “Foreman and Cameron will be there, come on,” He shoved your shoulder lightly. “What you did today was incredible with that patient. We saved him. We deserve a night off.” He grinned, ever the watcher. 

You scoffed, ducking your head as you thought about how proud House would be right now of his golden boy. “I know. But I’m sure you guys will live without me. Night.” You smile, soft and beautiful and final. 

Chase nods, a disappointed expression drawing his eyebrows together as you walk out of the changing rooms. 

It’s cold while you wait for the car that you called. So cold in fact, that you stand shivering beneath your coat under a tree, its life and coverage stolen by the harsh Jersey winter. 

“I’m not going to come into work tomorrow to find a Y/n-sicle am I?” He drawled, his cane padding over the icy sleet.  

“That depends, I guess, on whether I plan to freeze over tonight.” You snark. Not daring to look at him. 

You can practically hear the smirk. His interest is a fire that’s blazing so bright, you can feel its warmth all this way away. “Tell me why I bother you so much and I’ll do you a favour.” He says it casually, like he’s only asking for the time and not for your soul. 

“I don’t need charity.” You still won’t look at him. He steps closer to you. Just a fraction, but it sends your heart into an uncomfortable jog. 

“Good. ‘Cause I don’t want to give you charity.” Another step. You can hear his cane followed closely by his weight shifting. It's like the ticking of a clock, counting down to your inevitable demise. You screw your eyes closed, your arms hugging your chest as tightly as they can while still letting you breathe.

“Then why offer at all. You don’t need another sob-story. You’re the man with the telescope into people’s brains. Why ask me to tell you anything?” You look at him now, he’s so close you can feel his coat brushing against your knee. You glare at him. “Why don’t you just read my mind.” You snarl. 

House says nothing, the beat of silence a hundred years long in comparison to the tension that’s building between you like a bomb just about to go off, with only seconds to spare. “Just so we’re clear; I don’t read minds, I read people. And you wanna know what I'm reading right now?” He glowered, gaze sharp. “Your pupils are dilated, your breathing elevated.” He laughed callously, but oh-so sinfully attractive in the way he tossed his head to the side. His gaze never left yours. “You know what that book is called Y/n?” 

You felt the urge to melt into his touch as his gloved forefinger tilted your chin up, his lips inches from yours. “It’s called attraction. And guess how many times I’ve read it when I look at you.” He stated like it was fact, irrefutable, assured, unchallengeable. 

But damn it if you weren’t about to try. “Poetry.” You whispered. Eyes shining with determination as you deadpanned, “Can I go now?” Even if you weren’t quite ready to pry yourself from his grasp. 

"Tell me that you aren’t wet right now and sure, you can go.” His thumb grazed your pulse point, gooseflesh rising at the back of your neck that had nothing to do with the cold. 

You gulped. Cornered, a deer in headlights. “You are such an asshole.” You spat venomously, your sensitive core begging for the friction he was so easily depriving you of. 

“Well,” he grinned. “I know that.” 

You weren’t exactly sure how you got back to House’s place, between the tangle of layers and the insufferable car ride and your breath clouding the night air, kiss after kiss after kiss, you thought it was a miracle you’d made it through the door at all. 

He had you against his front door. His lips attacking your neck, sucking, biting, enticing. It made you groan into him. 

His cane clattered to the floor as he steadied himself by grabbing your hips, his forehead resting against yours as he tried to catch his breath. 

“Bed or couch?” You asked bluntly, knowing his leg must be killing him and not giving him the chance to weasel out of it. 

“Want me that bad?” He huffed, his eyes laced with amusement as he dragged you around his living room and collapsed into his couch next to you. 

“Want to slap you, more like.” You grumbled, taking your jacket off, the pocket rattling as you tossed it aside. You watched him quirk a brow. With an irritated sigh, you dug through the pockets until you produced the cause of the noise. 

“Benzos?” He asked, a glint in his eye. 

“You sound surprised.” You twirled the bottle between your fingers, tugging your lip between your teeth as you waited to be judged. Like you always were. 

“No. Impressed.” House dropped his gaze to your lips and back. Gently, he worked your lower lip out from your teeth, his recently un-gloved thumb folding the soft tissue under his touch. It was almost like he was testing every inch of you, to see how far you’d let this go. You briefly wondered if he’d fold all your layers back, until you really were bare for him. 

“Shouldn’t you be more concerned as my boss?” You murmured, half-straddling his lap. 

He shrugged, pulling you into him by the belt loop of your dress pants. “Eh. It's Friday night, I’ll write a performance review on Monday.” His tongue darted out to wet his lower lip. 

“On my work ethic, or… my performance tonight?” Your hands roaved his chest, squeezing his pectorals through his shirt. 

His thumb hooked beneath your bra through your blouse, your cleavage pressing against either side of the digit. “Like I'd ever write a real performance review.” He kissed you then, hot and demanding. Tongue prying your lips apart as he held your face close with his fingers wrapped around your jaw. 

It was the hottest and the most infuriating thing he’d ever done to you. You broke away from him, tossing your shirt over your head as you swung your head to the side, planting sloppy kisses down his jaw, the column of his throat and up again. 

You heard him pop the cap of the pill bottle open, just as your gaze danced over his features, pupils blown with lust, he held two pills up to your mouth. “Think you can swallow?” He raised a brow, probably waiting for you to decline, to say you would never in a million years.  

You grinned, probably like a mad woman. “I will if it tastes good.” You wrapped your lips around his fingers and sucked, the pills vanished with one clean swallow, but your tongue circled his digits at a maliciously slow pace, sucking as your fingers tangled into his hair at the nape of his neck. 

“Having fun?” He asked, staring darkly at your lips wrapped around him and imagining where they’d be better put to use. 

“Starting to.” You huffed, you didn’t look pretty, you looked ravishing and House decided he would ravish you exactly the way you needed. 

He popped two Vicodin and leant forwards, tongue and teeth and everything between colliding as his hands found your breasts and squeezed through your bra. You arched into his touch, hands clawing at his belt desperately. “House-” You whined, his hand encasing your two wrists, stopping you. 

“You sure about this?” He gave you that look. 

“I hate when you do that. And no. Not at all.” You sat back, admiring his half bare chest through his button-up. 

“Do what?” He smirked, eating you alive with his eyes alone. His grin faltered. “We can stop-” 

“Shut up. Just because I don’t know how I’m going to feel after jumping in the deep end, doesn’t mean I don’t desperately want to. House, I really, really,” You kissed his jaw, his neck, “really want you to fuck me.” 

You felt his chest tighten beneath your fingers, his breath sharp and ragged. He dragged you into him, his lips attacking yours with new fervour. He held you starkly against him, you could feel the weight of his hard-on pressing into your thigh. It made you shudder as his hands roaved your lower back. Deft fingers undid your pants, and slid beneath the waistband of your underwear as you shucked layer after layer to the floor. 

Completely bare but far from vulnerable, you peered up at him through your lashes as a wicked idea occurred to you. Carefully, sinfully, you lowered yourself onto the ground between his legs, hands steadying yourself on his knees. 

You gave him a look, a silent plea and demand all at once. It seemed to stir an ambivalent travail of emotion as he cocked his head to the side, admiring you and reprimanding you simultaneously. “You’re unbelievable.” He muttered. 

“Wait ‘till I’m really high. Then I’ll be unbelievable.” You smirked. 

With a shake of his head, he used his good leg to sit up and strip his jeans off, tossing them to the floor. Your head whirring with drugs and excitement, you practically salivated at the sight of him through his boxers. “All the way?” You looked up at him, the hesitation behind his eyes confusing you until you remembered his leg. The tip of his scar peeked out from beneath his boxers, you barely spared it a glance as you waited for him to answer. 

He watched you, your face, your greed to have him, to taste him and that burning behind your eyes that drew him to you in the first place. It fascinated him and it terrified him. It was the kind of connection he wasn’t sure he could handle, but the thought of getting a taste of you, not just your body, but mind and soul, it sold him to the core. 

He hiked his hips up again and tossed his boxers over the couch, as if to prove a point. “If you dare.” He challenged. Your gaze was unwavering as you took his length in your hand. Stroking him twice, you lean in, licking a stripe down the side of his shaft, your finger circling the sensitive head. You tilt him up, slapping your tongue over his tip, then you suck. Your cheeks hollow, your lips encompassing. “Jesus Christ…” He chokes out, his head falling back against the headrest of his couch, but he’s looking at you. Transfixed. 

“Funny how a woman can turn a man to God.” You grin, mouth popping off his dick with an obscenity that's infinately seductive. 

“Hah.” He fists his hand into your hair, dragging you closer to him. You take him again, bobbing your head, taking him to the back of your throat. It burned like hell but damn it, it felt like heaven. You cradle his balls, as a measure of control, appreciation, infatuation. You’re not really sure. He bucks his hips in response. 

You sputter around him, leaning back you gasp for air. It feels like a punishment; being forced to breathe, when all you want is to drown in him. You can taste the precum mixed in with your saliva, you lick your lips, eyes dark. He’s breathing heavily, but in the low lamplight of his apartment, you swear he looks unreal. 

Fisting your hair again, he drags you up to meet his lips. They’re kiss-bitten and red, but he sighs into you. He drags you into his lap, instinctively you straddle him. Your bare core hovering over his aching length, as it presses into the doughy flesh of your thigh. You grind softly, your pussy begging for friction, for anything. “Needy?” He huffs, smug. 

“You like needy.” You gulp, watching his hands travel down your sides, exploring every dip and curve. He presses his hand into your lower back, bringing you flush against him. You reach down to guide him to your entrance, but before you touch him, he’s curling two fingers into your dripping core. You fall into his chest, a strangled cry escaping you. 

“Do I?” He says so sweetly, his fingers a bruising punishment as they curl into you, your walls flutter around him as he circles your clit with his thumb. You grip onto his collar, as his free hand cradles your head. You kiss him, over and over, while he stretches you farther than feels possible. 

“House…” You whine, grinding into his palm. He watches every little reaction, his ministrations a mirror of what he sees. He knows what you like seconds after you decide you like it. He sucks at your pulse point as you lean your head back. His hand squeezes your breast, pinches your nipple, his mouth asserts dominance over the other. It’s all too much. 

He urges you to grind against him, your hips drop down, your clit brushing against his thumb with every bounce. Your stomach feels like a balloon about to burst into a tidal wave. The cord of pleasure building there untangling with every thrust of his fingers, and then it’s gone. You almost choke as your eyes find his, half-lidded, blazing. 

He enters you almost without warning, save for the shift of his hips, and then he let’s you ride him. Your hips snap to his like pieces in a puzzle, flesh on flesh slapping and squelching. It should be unseemly, it’s anything but as he grabs your face in his hands and devours you. 

“House-” You cry, that tidal wave fast approaching. His lips muffle your moans, but he squeezes your hip in acknowledgement. His free hand drifts between you, pressing into your sensitive button like he’s turning on a light switch in your nervous system. Everything comes undone too fast to even think about it. A wave of pleasure, hot and white scorches through you. You feel too hot, too overstimulated, too fucked-out. 

Your walls flutter around his dick, sucking him impossibly deeper as his cum spills inside you, your pussy milking him for every last drop as he grunts into your kiss. You’re pretty sure you drew blood from his lips, but neither of you seem to care as his tongue captures yours in a landslide victory. 

It’s too hard to breathe, but you try. Your forehead resting against his as you wait for your legs to stop shaking, for your head to stop feeling like a feather. “That little God comment was evil.” He pants, letting you stay on him a little longer as he slowly starts to soften. 

You sit up, your eyes clouded. “What can I say?” You stroke his lip with your thumb, a half-hearted apology for the tiny tear you left there. “I’m but a sinner.” You grin as you feel the drugs start to rush to your head. 

~ fin 

[theprenderelliepalace]

Countless

Klaus x f!reader

~ Imagine you're fated to the oldest vampire on earth, your souls intertwined as tightly as the threads of an eternal tapestry. You may be mortal, the reincarnation of a love lost centuries ago, but to Klaus; no matter the face you wear, you are his heart. ~

~ Warnings: Toxic relationship(s), cannon-typical mentions of violence, blood, not proof-read (sorry), cannon divergence

~ WC: 2.5k

Please do not translate/put my work through AI or illegally copy without my consent

First time writing for Klaus on here so bare with me.

Also i thought it was a cool idea for a series depending on how alive this fandom still is ...

Anywho happy reading ~

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

It started with the dreams. You had always had strange dreams, running through forests, braids in your hair whipping about your face, laughing as someone chases you through through dappled woodland light.

You'd wake up, your young mind brushing the dreams off as wild imagination. That's what your parents used to say, but as you got older, your dreams became darker. Laughter turned to screams.

You looked down, in the firelight of the bonfire, your hands were stained as red as the deepest embers, the blood dripping onto the harsh earth below your feet. Your eyes burned with hot tears, your gaze tearing away from your hands as a rippling growl tore through the clearing.

Somehow, knowing what you'd find, you tried to keep your eyes fixed to the earth- even as an invisible hand seemed to pull your gaze up and up. Your body shook, your breath hitched, staring back at you were the ochre eyes of a monster. You knew those eyes, didn't you?

The creature lunged, the snap of jaws echoed, your scream snuffed out like the last candle before the darkness of eternal slumber took you.

You woke with a jolt, a sheen of sweat clinging to your skin.

"Another bad dream?" Your boyfriend asked from the doorway.

It took you a moment to blink away the terror of your death. Even if it had only been a dream. "Wha- Oh. Yeah. I guess." You muttered.

He walked across your tiny loft floor to your side of the bed, handing you a luke warm cup of coffee. "Y/n you should really see someone about these dreams." He said. That patronizing lilt to his words that made your insides boil.

You scowled at him. "They're not worth therapy. It's just a nightmare."

He turned with a shrug, taking a swig of his hot coffee. "Yeah. The same nightmare every night. That's definitely not worth a visit to a shrink."

You ran a tired hand over your face. "Just drop it please." You sighed as you set your untouched coffee down on the nightstand.

He rolled his eyes at you and padded over to the bed again. Grabbing you by your chin, he kissed you - it was about as romantic as making out with a wall. He broke away from you, all smiles and zero charm. "I'm gonna take a shower babe. Make sure you're pretty for the banquet tonight m'kay?" He called over his shoulder.

You watched him go, your face contorted in irritation. As you heard the faucet burst to life, you flopped back against the mattress with a groan. Praying with all your might that this day would just be over already.

"I mean... It can't get worse than this right?" You asked aloud to no-one in particular.

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

The event hall was spectacular. Chandeliers that seemed to hang down in crystalline spirals for acres glitered above your head. The soft glow of candlelight swayed seductively between sauntering couples on the dance floor.

You raised your champagne flute to your ruby-red lips, your eyes scanning the crowd for anything more interesting than waiting for your boyfriend who'd apparently flaked on you at the last minute. You gleaned this from the series of illiterate texts that you watched blow up your phone from where it sat on the bar counter.

"Bad night?" An enticingly rich British accent asked from beside you.

"Try bad year." You laughed mirthlessly as your gaze flickered to your companion. He was handsome, you'd give him that, in a rugged sort of way that you bet left most girls begging for more. You were undecided as you let your eyes shamlessly wander his figure.

From the stubble that kissed his hard jaw, to his plush pink lips, to his mesmerizing eyes. Eyes so familiar it stultified you mid-sip. "Uh, do I know you?" You asked dumbly, your jaw slackened with surprise.

He seemed equally as startled because it took him a beat to reply. "No. You most certainly don't. Excuse me." He brushed past you, his hand grazing your skin for only a moment, but that was all it took.

Suddenly hundreds of memories flooded into your vision like someone had burst a dam wall of time and space in the epicenter of your brain. You keeled over, the pain unbearable; as images of medieval tents on hot summer days - to brutal winters in French court spun around your consciousness like a whirlpool of the past.

You felt a hand at your shoulder, your one life line in an ocean of misery. "What..." You choked, your vision darkening at the edges. You turned, catching his dark expression as you faded into blackness. "Klaus?"

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

Louisiana was hot this time of year. New Orleans? Worse. The humidity nawed at your skin like tiny flecks of flame. The only reason you knew you were in New Orleans is because you heard it before you saw it. The fast approaching night life.

Blearily, you blinked your eyes open, the setting sun burning your vision as it cast its rays down on you from the open french doors onto a balcony.

Lifting your head slightly - even though it felt like heaving a bag of stones - you watched a figure pace, his shoulders set in tension as he listened to another voice you couldn't see.

"Niklaus." The voice soothed, even tempered and icy, like the rising of the tide before an epic tsunami. "To repeat the mistakes of the past is one thing. To bring the girl here borders on imbecilic." The voice continued.

"Do not lecture me on poor choices brother. We both know how that ended the last time you told me to stay away from her." The pacing man yelled. Though you couldn't see his face, you watched the way the vein in his neck bugged in his tantrum. You didn't know why, but the sight made you smile. It was almost like you were used to his outbursts.

You recoiled at yourself, the thought surprising you. How could you know that?

"Brother," The voice spoke again, louder this time to outmatch his pacing opponents rage. "I do not believe I have to remind you what has become of that poor girl lying on your bed each time you rap her up in our lives." The voice warned, its coolness sending a shiver you didn't understand running down your spine.

There was a beat. A moment where the very air seemed to charge with the weight of some unspoken decision, yet to be made.

"She remembers." The figure whispered. His shoulders slackening with what seemed to be relief as the poisonous words finally lifted from the darkest parts of his soul.

The voice scoffed instantaneously. "Do not fool yourself Niklaus. That is impossible."

The figure righted himself, determined. "I heard her Elijah. Before she collapsed. She recognized me. I heard her." He demanded. Seeming more convinced with every word.

The silence was almost as loud as your pounding headache.

"If that is true..." The voice, Elijah, trailed off.

"It is true." His brother spat.

"... If that is true, then this may be what we have been waiting for." Elijah finished. His words like the last call to the gallows.

Despite the pain, the effort and the fear of getting caught, slowly you got off the bed. Tip-toeing over the creaky floor boards.

The door, paint-chipped and effortlessly antique was almost close enough to touch when, creeeeakkkk. The floor beneath you cried out in the same agony you were hopelessly trying to keep bottled up.

"She is awake." Elijah said.

You barely had time to turn around before you felt the gust of wind sweeping you off your feet. The two men towered above you, Niklaus at your side in a heartbeat.

"Can you stand?" He asked, attentive in a way you couldn't comprehend.

"Must you coddle her?" Elijah, his sharp suit glistening in the twilight almost as dangerously as his eyes. Fixed to yours.

Ignoring his brother, the man at your side asked again, more forcefully this time, "Can you stand, love?"

"I think so. Can you two explain why you've kidnapped me?" You deadpan, the seriousness of your predicament not quite landing as you watch these two very strange men share a look.

"Think of it more as a, relocation. " Elijah offered, any sense of humor awry.

" Okay." You turned to Klaus, somebody you felt could tell you something logical. "Why have I been relocated 1000 miles from a banquet in DC to Goddamn Louisiana?" You shouted, your heart beating a mile a minute the longer you thought about how crazy your life had become in a matter of seconds.

"It's- complicated." Was all she was afforded.

"What my brother means to say is that we might be wise to appraise you of your situation before we divulge any further information." Elijah continued, shooting a warning glare at his brother.

"Yes. Right. Of course, because that makes sense." You huffed, standing shakily, your legs feeling like jelly beneath you. "So let me take a gander, and you tell me if I'm appraised enough. Yeah? Okay, good."

You pointed a finger, "Firstly, I have probably what is the worst headache I've ever had in my life." You raised another finger as you continued to list,"Secondly, I've been kidnapped by two hoity-toity British idiots who seem to believe I'm some sort of Holy Grail." The vampire next to her, Klaus, she remembered, recoiled at that. "And finally, I had 1000 years of memories of the Mikaelsons and co. lazer-beamed into my brain, not 24 hours ago. So, moral of the story," You glared at the brothers. "I'm informed. Now talk."

"You know Niklaus." Elijah spoke in a practiced falsetto. "I think she remembers."

"Yes. Yes, I'd say she does." Klaus returned, equally stunned.

"Why don't we move this to the parlor room, Miss-" Elijah suggested.

"Y/n." You offered icily.

You allowed yourself to be led out the door and down the hall, not missing how Klaus seemed to wince as your name fell from your lips.

"Please. Sit." Elijah gestured to a stately arm chair as he poured a golden liquor, presumably scotch from a crystal decanter.

You sat, your nerves spiking with every creak of the old house and with every shadow you just missed out of the corner of your eye.

"Where, uh," You began as you scanned for any sign of your temper-tantrumed savior.

"Niklaus. But my brother prefers Klaus in these modern times." Elijah spoke cooly as he handed her the glass. She took it, careful for some reason to not touch his skin.

"Yeah. Klaus. Where did he go?" You asked.

"You must understand Miss Y/n, this is a very... difficult situation for him." You watched as he took the seat opposite you, his face neutral.

"No. I don't understand." You slammed your glass down on the side table. Your brows furrowing as you shot up and began pacing in front of an old marble fireplace. "Why do I remember having a different life. Lives, actually. Plural. A different name, a different body! That's crazy right? I mean that's the stuff you see on paranormal documentaries and, and ghost hunting shows."

Elijah, ever the composed gentleman, snorted. Covering his mouth with a pocketed handkerchief, as he too set his glass aside. "Y/n, as difficult as it may be to comprehend right now. You have lived before. And more importantly, your path, in every life, crosses with our family's."

"Yes. But why?" You pleaded, the lack of a straight answer driving you nuts.

"Because of a spell." You turned to find Klaus leaning against the door frame into the parlor room. Lurking. "Because of me." He paraded into the dimly lit room, waving his hands in the air as he snarled at his brother, "Isn't that what you wanted me to hold off telling her, brother? That our fates, our souls are bonded through eternity? That no matter her mortality, our paths always cross. One life to the next." He raged.

" Niklaus." Elijah warned.

"Wait, bonded? But how is that possible?" You ask, your head reeling.

"Our mother." The brothers said at the same time.

"Hang on boys. I'm already feeling like Alice down the rabbit hole here, and now you're telling me that this weird magical bond thing is just, family drama?! " You shriek, utter nonplussed.

"Yes." Klaus answers smugly.

"No." Elijah returns firmly.

You groan, your headache worsening a thousand fold.

"Leave us." Klaus commands, the distant crackle of fireworks somewhere filling the tense silence.

"I'll be retiring then. Y/n. Brother. " Elijah spits venomously as he skirts around Klaus, closing the parlor doors behind him.

In a flash, Klaus is beside you. "I know..." He begins, faltering as you look up at him. "I know how world-crashing this must be. I have had this conversation with you too many times to count over my existence. Of course, you never remembered."

"So why do I now?" You asked, your gaze beseeching. "What- What am I Klaus?"

"I don't know." He states simply. Truthfully, and you both know he could've lied just as easily. You turn away, the weight of his words crushing you.

You startle, your cheeks reddening as you feel his finger tip your chin towards him, his forest eyes beaming into yours. "But what I do know, is that you're the woman I love. No matter the face you wear, or the name you're born with. Time and time again, you are my soul."

Your eyes flutter closed as your lips brush agaisnt his, his hand wraps around the back of your neck, drawing you in for a kiss as world shattering as your day as been, only, with Klaus, it's as though he becomes your world. Consuming you as his tongue pries your lips apart, fighting for dominance as you whimper into his mouth.

He pulls you onto him, your hips stuttering over his as the electricity of his touch makes your stomach flip a hundred times in a second.

You take a handful of his soft curls, breaking apart for a moment, breathless and wanton. "I don't know what to do with that information." You confess, your voice sounding small and shaky to your ears.

He smiles up at you, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "Do nothing." He smirks deviously.

"Except let me ravish you."

You swear your heart stops and then- brrring, brrring, brrring, brrring. "Is that my phone?" You ask.

Seeming incredibly upset, vaguely contended by the fact that you were still in his arms, he pulled your phone from his pocket and handed it begrudgingly to you.

"Who the bloody hell has to talk to you at this hour?" He demands, his tone seething.

You gape at the caller ID. Dumbstruck. "Uh, my boyfriend." You say numbly.

"Your what?"

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

Masterlist

I know, I know. Sorry for the cliffhanger. If anybody cares I might do a part 2.

Also if anybody cares I may be persuaded to do a smutty version of this

If you made it this far, you're a real one. <3

[aureateink]

hi congrats on 1000 followers!!!! i seriously love your work sm the bill weasley magic lessons series altered my brain chemistry. idk if you write for aged up harry potter but if you do can you please write “1000 tears” with harry i love him in deathly hollows era when he’s all angsty and it’s soooo good when people write him to have a crazy reunion with the reader when he gets to shell cottage after saving them from malfoy manor it’s always giving peak hormones lol

hi love!!! tysm for the request, and I'm so glad you enjoyed Magic Lessons! angsty Harry is also my favorite, so I had a lot of fun with this one. Hope you enjoy! 🤍

1000 tears | H.P.

feat. Harry Potter x reader

cw: MDNI 18+, smut, love confessions, war stuff, mentions of blood/injury, angsty Deathly Hallows-era Harry, friends to lovers, reader has an implied close relationship with Remus and Tonks (parental), Dobby lives bc this is my fic and I can do whatever I want

1000 things prompt list (closed!) | masterlist

You sat curled up in your bed, knees to your chest, and stared at the crack in the bedroom door. Lupin had sent you to your assigned room with a piece of chocolate an hour prior, insisting you try and get some rest. But you couldn't even get yourself to lay down, the chocolate lying untouched on the bedside table.

You'd lost track of how many tears you'd shed.

Harry was out there, having disappeared while searching for a Horcrux with Ron and Hermione hours and hours ago without communication. He refused to let you go with them, having all but begged you to stay behind at Shell Cottage.

Where it's safe, love.

And now, you had a bone-deep feeling that something had gone terribly wrong. It wasn't like Harry to not send any kind of communication, and if he couldn't, Hermione always did.

Things between you and Harry were…complicated. You weren't together. Who would be reckless enough to start a new relationship in the middle of a war? But the connection between you was strong, having grown from a schoolyard crush to an all-consuming devotion over the past few years, and you knew Harry felt it too. But there were more important things to worry about at the moment—romance could wait until after the war. If there was an after.

The clock ticked audibly on the wall above your head.

This was ridiculous. You couldn't just sit here. If Harry thought something happened to you, nothing would stop him. Not Lupin, not Molly, not Moody—

A crash and a wail echoed through the silent house. You immediately recognized the cry as Dobby’s, and jumped out of bed, grabbing your wand from the night stand.

Your heart hammered in your chest as you approached the closed door, turning the ancient knob as quietly as you could. Wand raised, you pulled open the door, stupify on the tip of your tongue.

“What on earth happened! And where have you been?!” Molly bellowed, and you paused in the hallway.

“Malfoy Manor,” you heard Ron reply just before Dobby loosed another shriek of pain.

“Harry Potter saved Dobby! Harry Potter is Dobby's hero!”

“It’s alright, Dobby—let go—Dobby, they have to—”

You flew down the stairs and around the corner, finding Ron, Hermione, Lupin, Molly, and the wounded House Elf crowded into the foyer. Harry was trying to gently pry the bleeding Dobby from his pants leg, his handsome face smeared with dirt and blood, expression tight with frustration and exhaustion.

But he was alive.

“You're supposed to be asleep,” Lupin scolded, noticing you hovering in the hall, and Harry’s head snapped up, green eyes melting with relief.

“Dobby and Hermione need a Healer,” Harry said, his gaze locked on you. You could tell he was white knuckling his self-control, trying to stay calm and prevent the terror from whatever just happened to them spread to the rest of you.

“Good thing I was awake then,” you replied, giving Lupin a pointed look as you moved into the crowded foyer. You stooped to survey the House Elf's injuries. A blade had grazed his side, blood blooming beneath his tunic, but it was shallow. “Episkey,” you murmured, and the wound knitted itself most of the way closed, ceasing the bleeding.

“Oh, thank you Miss Harry Potters friend! Thank you!”

“My pleasure, Dobby,” you sighed, pushing to your feet.

You hadn't realized how close you were to Harry, too focused on healing Dobby, and now we're standing nearly chest to chest, nose to nose.

The look on his face knocked the air from your lungs. His usually serene eyes were burning, heavy-lidded and bruised with exhaustion. He smelled of smoke and the sting of dark magic, his black hair tosseled and knuckles bloody.

His index finger brushed the edge of your hand, so light you almost thought you'd imagined it, and you swallowed a shudder, your body reacting as if he’d done something cataclysmic.

Everything in you wanted to throw your arms around him and kiss the pain away, steal it all for yourself so he'd never have to suffer under the burden of responsibility again—but you resisted.

“Boys, can you get Hermoine into the kitchen?” you asked, shifting to step away before you completely lost focus.

For a split second, Harry’s index finger hooked your pinky, wanting to keep you close, but he quickly dropped his hand and turned to his friends.

“C’mon then, hold onto me,” Harry said, crouching down to their level. Hermione looped an arm around Harry's neck, the other already around Ron’s waist, and together they lifted her up.

She groaned, her head lolling onto Ron's shoulder, but protested no further as they carried her into the kitchen and set her gently onto a chair.

“Don't overtax yourself,” Lupin warned, catching you before you left the foyer. “Be smart.”

“I'm fine, Remus,” you bit, pulling away from him.

You followed them into the kitchen, pretending not to be jealous at the easy contact between Harry and Hermione. You knew there was nothing romantic between them, and you loved their friendship. His depth of love for his friends was one of the things you admired most about him. But her ability to touch him so freely, a luxury you could only imagine, made your stomach twist.

To distract yourself, you set to work making some tea and preparing your supplies. Usually, the three of them would chat amongst themselves, strategizing, reminiscing, poking fun, but they were strangely quiet. The house sat heavily around the four of you, the silence almost tangible, broken only by the cottages occasional creak and groan.

When you set Hermione’s tea in front of her, made just the way she likes it, plus a pinch of goldenrod for the pain, she barely managed a whispered ‘thank you’. Her face was buried in the crook of Ron's neck while he held her close.

Oh, how lucky they were to be loved out loud, even if they hadn't admitted it to themselves yet.

Harry was leaning against the counter, eyes flitting anxiously between his friends and you, so you poured him a cuppa as well.

When you brought it to him, intending to set it on the counter beside him, he instead reached out to take it from you. His cool fingertips brushed yours over the heated ceramic. “Thanks,” he murmured, voice gravelly.

“’Course,” you said through the tightness in your throat. His touch lingered a moment longer before he brought the warm cup to his chest.

You set up your supplies and sat beside Hermione, gesturing for her to set her injured arm on the towel you laid out. She obliged, grimacing when the drying blood pulled at her skin.

As gently as you could, you used a rag soaked in warm water and antiseptic to clear away the blood. You nearly recoiled when the injury revealed itself.

Mudblood.

“Hermione, what—” you gasped.

“Bellatrix,” Ron hissed. “Tortured her while we were locked up.”

You were speechless, shocked to your core, and instinctively turned to Harry, but he was looking at Hermione's arm, eyes swimming with pain.

“I'm so sorry,” you whispered, turning back to Hermione.

She shook her head, dismissing your sympathy. “Just do what you can,” she said through gritted teeth. “Please,” she added.

So you did. Bellatrix had used an enchanted blade, so the word would scar, but with some time and attention, you were able to get the wound partially healed, and most importantly, the pain under control.

At one point you had urged the boys to go get cleaned up, their brooding energy weighing on your heart, but neither budged an inch. Ron stayed glued to Hermione’s side, catching every one of her tears, while Harry hovered over your shoulder, only moving away when you needed something, like fresh gauze or a refill of your tea. A strong herbal blend you developed to keep you focused during long nights spent studying in the common room.

It had come in handy more times than you cared to admit since the war began.

You secured the last bandage around her forearm, and looked up to find her asleep on Ron's shoulder, his head leaned against hers, eyes closed.

The roll of gauze was lifted from your hand, and you felt Harry's heat at your back. Even blindfolded and deaf, you'd be able to sense him anywhere.

“What are you—”

“Cleaning up,” he replied. “You've done enough.” His tone was gentle but firm, and you rolled your eyes.

“Me? I've been sitting here for days while you—”

“And I'm sure you worried yourself half-to-death,” he cut you off, and you clamped your mouth shut. “I can put away some bottles while you rest for a second,” he said, grabbing the vials from in front of you.

“Can't help but worry about you,” you muttered petulantly.

Harry's footsteps paused just behind you, and your breath caught in your throat. Then, his arms wrapped around your shoulders, warm and solid and home, and he buried his face into the curve of your shoulder.

“Please don't,” he whispered, exhaling a shaky breath. “Because if you ever asked me to stay—”

“I would never ask you to stay.” Tears burned behind your eyes, heart aching with relief and something too similar to grief to bear another name. You twined one of your hands with his, the other coming up to tangle in his dark waves. “That’s why I asked to go with you.”

His grip tightened. “I would never ask you to go.”

A tear slipped down your cheek. “I know.”

Ron stirred, and Harry slid his arms from around you, leaving you cold. You wiped the tears from your face before he could see them, though you had no doubt he knew they were there.

“Ron, you gotta take Hermione to bed,” Harry said, shaking his friends shoulder, and Ron came fully awake.

Ron gave a grunt in acknowledgment, then lifted Hermione into his arms, cradling her against his chest like she was the most precious thing in the world. “Thanks, mate,” Ron said to you, nodding his head.

“No need to thank me. Just glad you're all alright,” you replied, waving him off.

“Me too.” He glanced at Harry, something unspoken passing between them, before turning and carrying Hermione down the hall to her room.

The silenced stretched between you until it became unbearable. “I guess I'll head to bed before Lupin bites my head off,” you joked, though it landed flat.

Harry, sweet, always supportive Harry, gave you a weak smile anyways. You knew he wouldn't ask you to stay up, even though he'd likely be up until sunrise, but it still hurt when he answered with a single nod and turned away, walking into the living room without another word.

You had just climbed into bed when there was a knock on your closed door. Wiping away the tears that had collected once again, you pulled open the door, fairly certain you would find Lupin or Tonks standing there, ready to scold you for not going to sleep when your were told.

Harry stood in the dark hall, his glasses reflecting the silver moonlight like coins. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice rough with emotion.

“Sorry? For wha—” Harry pushed through the door, directly towards you. You barely had time to gasp before he was grabbing your face and hauling you in for a messy, breath-taking kiss. He kicked the door shut with his foot, the bang a little too loud for the quiet house, but Harry didn't falter for a second. You barely heard it though, your ears ringing as your blood rushed under your skin, your mouth moving instinctively against his, matching every desperate push and ravenous pull.

His hands were everywhere, gripping your hips and tangling in your hair and pressing at your back, like he wanted to fold you under his skin, fuse your bodies together in every way imaginable.

“Harry,” you whimpered when he broke the kiss to breathe, your lungs burning along with the rest of you. It took you a moment to register that he was crying. “Harry, what—”

“I'm sorry, I'm so sorry—I couldn't—” a strangled sound cut off his words and he sank to his knees, his grip on your hips going slack. “I tried, I—”

“I-I don't know what you mean,” you said, fighting back your own confused tears as you stroked his hair, his face buried into your abdomen.

“I thought I could wait, could keep you from getting too close, but I—I can't.” Harry looked up at you, pain-stricken face streaked with tears and glasses crooked, his mouth pulled down in a sorrowful curve. “I need you, but I can't risk losing you.”

You lowered yourself to his level, taking his face in your hands and drying his tears with you shirt sleeve. “You aren't going to lose me,” you tried to soothe, but your own emotion made your voice tremble. You both knew that it was entirely possible one or both of you would die in this war. Countless others had, and if love could overpower mortality…so many lost would still be living.

He shook his head. “If they know about you, what you mean to me—they'll—” another sob ripped from his chest, and it felt like it ripped out your heart with it, the sound so agonizing you wanted to cover your ears. “What they did to Hermione—I can't hear you scream like that, I can't—”

You were left speechless, crushed under the weight of what your friends, your Harry, must have experienced. Had one thing been different, he wouldn't here right now, in your arms where he belonged. You never would have kissed him, never would have held him, never would have known—

“Just tonight, then,” you whispered, watery and half-pleading. “Just one night, Harry, please.”

“I don't want just one night,” he snapped, though you know his sudden anger wasn't directed at you. “I don't want to wait. I don't want to fight. I don't want to be Harry fucking Potter. I just—” his breathing was labored, his jaw flexing under your palms. “I just want to be yours.”

“Harry—” your voice caught on the words, so used to swallowing them that speaking them felt as foreign as it did exhilarating. “Harry, I love you.” His eyes squeezed shut, his breath hitching. “In my heart, you're mine. You're my Harry.”

He opened his eyes, their green brighter than you'd ever seen it, stark against the red of his lids and black of his damp lashes. “I love you too. So fucking much,” he whispered, pressing his lips to your inner wrist, up your forearm until he reached your lips, molding them together in a timid, salt-licked kiss.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, drawing him closer, and he quickly reciprocated, deepening the kiss until it reached the same fervor as before. You could feel his heart pounding in his chest, racing alongside yours as he reached behind you and yanked your quilts and duvet onto the floor.

You were about to ask why when he kissed his way down your neck, leaning you back onto the pile of blankets. His body weight was warm and delicious pressed against you, filling a space long empty in your chest, and you sighed, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“So soft,” he murmured, nursing a spot under your ear that made you gasp, the sound twisting into a breathless moan. His hips canted forward in response, an involuntarily flex of muscles, and he whined. “Sorry, lovely. I'm so sorry—”

You silenced him by dragging his mouth back to yours and kissing him as fiercely as you could. Testing the waters, you rolled your hips against his, fiending for even a little friction, and it was his turn to gasp. You seized your opportunity and licked into his mouth, chasing his tongue with yours, and he completely melted into you.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he groaned, his hands sliding under your shirt to paw at your bare skin. He kissed back down your neck, teasing the sensitive spot he found and making you squirm. You felt him hardening rapidly against your hip, losing his breath every time your hips bucked into his.

“Harry,” you pleaded, not entirely sure what you were asking for, only that you needed more of him. All of him.

He grunted when you shifted to roll your hips directly against the bulge of his cock, the thin fabric of your shorts doing little to mask the rough texture of his jeans. One of his hands slipped from your body to undo his pants, his weeping, flushed cock springing free and slapping against your lower belly.

“Baby, I need to—Merlin, I'm so sorry,” he panted against your neck as he pulled your shorts and panties to the side. He spread his fingers through your slit, exposing your drooling pussy to the cold air of the room. He plunged one finger in, then another, stretching you with quick, deliberate strokes that had you keening.

“Please fuck me, please, please, please,” you babbled, digging your nails into his back when he withdrew his fingers to fist his cock, dragging the head through your slick and coating himself in your honey.

“Baby, fuck, you're so wet. My good girl, yeah?” He peppered your throat and chest with kisses, like he was atoning for some great sin while he pushed that first few inches into your tight heat. You cried out, and he clamped a hand over your mouth, startling you both. “Sh, sh, have to be quiet f'me. I’ll be gentle, but I just need to—” His hips stuttered forward another inch when your gooey walls clamped around him. “Fuck, lovely, I'm sorry, you just feel so—”

You lifted your hips and he slid a bit deeper, sinking nearly half-way into the wet grip of your cunt, and he made a pained sound in his throat, your own mewl muffled by his rough palm. Your whole body was humming with pleasure, like he was ripping through the dark curtains of your soul and letting the light finally spill out.

“Fuck, I'm sorry.” He rested his forehead against yours, biting the back of his hand covering your mouth to keep from crying out as he pushed deeper, almost there. “I love you, and I'm trying to go easy but saints. You make it so hard to be good.”

You nodded desperately, locking your eyes onto his and trying to convey what you wanted. I know you love me, but fuck me like you hate me.

His eyes searched your face. “Tell me what you want, love,” he said, removing his hand from your mouth to grip your jaw.

“I don't want to hold back anymore,” you replied, voice breathy and high.

Something in him snapped. His hips thrust forward, his pelvis smacking against yours as he finally bottomed out. His cock kissed your cervix, the stretch bright and delicious.

“Fucking hell, you're so goddamn tight,” Harry growled against your neck, grinding his hips against yours. You'd be shocked to hear him speak so roughly, but you were on another planet, nails carving lines down his back as you clung to him.

His fingers dug into to meat of your thigh, lifting your legs up to wrap around his waist, helping him drive even deeper as he started pounding into you. Long, deep strokes that had your mind-melting, toes curling, and a too-loud cry slipped free.

“Baby,” he scolded, covering your mouth again and slowing down his thrusts.

“M’sorry,” you mumbled against his palm. “Please don't stop.”

“Have to be quiet, okay?” He removed his hand, pressing a soft kiss to you lips. “Lupin will kill me.”

“Lupin can bite me,” you giggled, pulling him back down for another kiss.

Harry smiled against your mouth, his teeth catching your lower lip and tugging gently. He snapped his hips forward, knocking the air out of your lungs as pleasure bolted through you. “He'll have to go through me first,” he purred.

Seeing this more assertive side of Harry was doing funny things to your brain and your heart, your pussy fluttering around his iron length.

Was this what it was like to be his?

You pushed at his shoulder, throwing your leg to roll him over, landing in a straddle over his waist. His eyes widened in surprise, but quickly rolled back when you circled your hips, his length hitting an entirely new angle inside of you.

He tugged his shirt off, then yours, pulling you flush down against him as he fucked up into you, too impatient to hold still.

He was hitting it just right, abusing that soft spot inside of you that made your eyes cross, and you could feel your release rapidly approaching.

Sweat collected between you as your furiously ground your hips together, fucking each other with everything you had. Completely lost in the feeling of one another, desperate to push the other over the edge. The lewd slap of your sopping pussy was driving you both crazy, heightening the risk of being caught substantially, but you were too far gone to care anymore.

“Need you to come for me, baby. Please. Need to feel you, before—fuck, that's it, I’m so close—” Harry managed to get a hand between you, his middle finger making quick circles over your clit. His hips snapped up a final time, and you both were done for.

Your orgasm exploded through you, whiting out your vision with searing pleasure, and you buried your face in his neck to keep from screaming his name.

He bit down on his fist, a grunt of pleasure escaping as he continued fucking you, his thrusts growing languid and sloppy as your cunt milked him dry.

“Harry, Harry, Harry,” you whined in his balmy skin, twitching and shaking in his arms as he finally sagged against the ground.

He removed his hand from his mouth, pinpricks of blood emerging from the wounds he'd sustained earlier reopening. “Saints, I love you so much. You're so beautiful,” he panted, kissing along your sweaty hairline. “Did so good for me, my lovely girl.”

“I love you too,” you sighed happily, nuzzling into the space under his jaw and brushing your lips against his light layer of stubble, letting your body relax into his.

He ran his fingers through your hair, holding you close as he caught his breath, the two of you basking in the afterglow.

“I meant what I said—anyone that wants to hurt you will have to go through me first,” he murmured after a few moments of quiet, his voice turning serious. “I'll do everything I can to protect you.”

You pushed yourself onto your elbow, meeting his eyes. They were shadowed with uncertainty, a bit glassy with collecting tears. His hand came up to hold your cheek, his thumb smoothing a long your kiss-stung lips.

“Whatever happens, this will be worth it,” you said, trying to inject as much conviction into your voice as you could, though seeing his tears brought your own back to the surface. “Even if this is the only night we get, it's worth the risk.”

He nodded, bringing your lips together in an airy, tearful kiss. “You're worth fighting a war for,” he whispered, catching your tears with his thumb. “And I'll get you to the other side of it if it's the last thing I do.”

You shook your head, burying it into his neck as a sob forced it's way up your throat. “I’d rather you take me with you.”

“Absolutely not,” he said, his grip tightening as he forced your head up again. “You have to promise me that no matter what happens, you'll live to help build what comes next.” You started to shake your head again, but he didn't let you. “Promise me.”

“I can't—”

“You can. And you will. This world is better with you in it, my love.” He rested his forehead against yours. “And I'll promise to do everything I can to stay with you.”

You drew in a shaky breath, your heart so full you could hardly breathe. “I promise, Harry.”

He flipped you beneath him, molding your lips together like it would set your promises in stone. “No more tears,” he murmured. “Tonight, we’re celebrating.”

© agreeeeeeeeeee 2025. do not copy, translate or claim my writing as your own.

[theprenderelliepalace]

Too good not to read !

[theprenderelliepalace]

Invisible

Harry Potter x Reader

Summary: You're somebody Harry's never noticed before, between dragons and dark magic and Quidditch, he simply hasn't had the teenage brain power. But, when you move to number 6 Privet Drive during your 6th year summer, Harry has little choice but to notice you...

Warnings: no use of y/n, gryffindoor!reader, (Harry might be a little ooc, I'll let you decide), trauma, angst, anxiety, some actual plot, fluff, hurt/comfort, slight smut if you squint, guess the timeline this is set in you're probably right... lmk if i missed anything

Words: 1.8k

^~^~^

It was an accident really. A complete mishap in the universe, a cruel joke that made you the unavoidable punchline.

Your parents had split in December, you'd spent your January in tears, and Febuary through to your final OWL in a numb sort of trance. You'd seen Harry Potter around, watched him struggle through the mockery, the disbelieving whispers that roamed the castle halls and the danger that found him at the Ministry before the end of term. But not once had he noticed you.

Why should he? You were invisible. It didn't matter that the Sorting Hat had made Gryffindoor your home five years previously or that you had a massive crush on the Chosen One since First Year, you'd never felt like you deserved to be there anyways or have his attention.

That's why you felt your stomach drop the moment your eyes met his. You couldn't explain why, but for a moment it felt like he recognized you, until you darted behind the old bridge you'd been loitering around. Your heart was in your throat as you bashed through overgrown shrubbery. Twigs smacked against your skin, stinging your cheeks and snagging your hair. You panted against the cool evening air, trying to draw breath that wouldn't come.

You came back up the street, your house almost in view, the shining silver 6 looming over Privet Drive as you raced towards it. You were almost up the hill, hand practically reaching out for your front door, when your felt your foot snag against a loose piece of gravel. Your heart lurched as you flew forwards, landing against the tarmac with a hideous, scraping thud.

You groaned as you rolled over, the cloudless sky blinking at you brightly, laughing at you. Your forearms seared with stinging pain. "Woah, wait!" A voice called from over the hill.

You blinked, "Uh, Hey?" You coughed out. Your vision was suddenly clouded with a figure. A halo of messy hair blotting out the nearby streetlight.

"Are you okay?" The voice asked.

You could look at him now, those silly round glasses falling charmingly down his nose, his mop of black hair tumbling into his eyes, those brilliant emeralds gleaming down at you with such fierce concern. Your stomach coiled for a very different reason as your eyes met again. You blushed as he offered you his hand, scolding yourself as you got shakily to your feet.

"That was a pretty epic knockout." Harry Potter teased, genuine concern bubbling behind his glasses.

"Yeah." You grumbled, finding your shoes suddenly very interesting.

"Uh, I hate to ask, but, you didn't run because of me I hope."

"What?" Your head snapped up to meet his startled gaze. "No! I-"

He laughed, the obvious tension in his shoulders falling away. "Are you sure? You kind of spooked the second you saw me-"

"Well yeah! But it's not what you think..." You said, your face flushing so bright you thought it might surpass the streetlight.

"What do I think?" He asked, a brow raising into his hairline. You noticed the subtle quirk to his lips and the glint in his eye and suddenly you were laughing.

"Sorry, that was pretty stupid, huh?" You chuckled.

"The falling and hurting yourself part maybe, the running away, surprisingly, I get." He chuckled with you.

"No! I recognized you, and obviously you're, well you, and you go to Hogwarts and I was spooked when I thought you'd recognized me! I just, I dunno, I ran." You mumbled into the pavement beneath you. Tugging at your shredded sleeves.

"I noticed." He smiled warmly at you. Suddenly he frowned. "Listen, let me help you get that cleaned up." Harry said, glancing at your arms. "I'd feel worse if you said no." He smiled again, hopeful.

Your heart pounded against your ribcage, urging you to run the last few steps up your porch and into the safety of your unfurnished home. Then you looked into his puppy dog eyes and you cracked. "I have some muggle first aid in my kitchen. Mum's at the old house packing up." You looked at him through your eyelashes, a bashful suggestion you hoped didn't sound too forward. And then you realized. "No! I didn't mean like that, Merlin, I'm so sorry."

He laughed, a youthful, boyish laugh that left you feeling weak in the knees. "I know, I know. C'mon, let's get you patched up."

The two of you walked up the steps to your new house, it was cold and vacent in the entrance hall, a narrow, bleak, little space that made you feel like you were walking into a dungeon. "Sorry, jus' moved in. Nothing special about it yet." You said humbly. You turned down the corridor into the little kitchenette. "Not sure where I put the first aid kit, uh-" you spun in a small circle, starting to panic as you realized you weren't sure where anything was really. It was all so sudden, so new, it was alarmingingly overwhelming and then...

"Here. This it?" Harry asked, a comforting air to him.

You sighed in relief. "That's the one." You leant against the counter, the lamplight casting weary shadows over your face. Harry unzipped the small case, deftly choosing the wound cleaning solution and the right amount of gauze. "You do this often?" You ask, curious, but also slightly alarmed at his confidence.

"Hah, well, often enough to let you know you're in good hands. Not that I mean, you know." He quickly corrected.

"No." You giggled. "I've got my own hands to worry about I guess." He came over to you, pouring the rubbing alcohol against the gauze.

"Sorry. Might sting a bit." He gently turned your forearm over in his hand. It was so much larger than your scraped up little palms, the thought made you scold yourself again. This was the Harry Potter, in your kitchen, cleaning your stupid wounds because of your stupid deer-in-headlights freakout. Then again, things had been worse.

"It's okay." You gave him a small smile of reassurance. He touched the alcohol to your torn skin as gingerly as he could, you noticed his eyes flickering up to your face every now and then to catch any sign of serious pain. You hissed as he reached one of the deeper cuts.

"S'rry." He grumbled, focused on the pressure he put onto the cut. With your free hand, you allowed your fingers to gently grip his wrist, he stopped, his gaze finding yours.

"It's okay." You breathed, in awe of the boy in front of you. You knew he was handsome but, Merlin. You gulped, your tongue suddenly feeling too big for your mouth.

He was staring at you, something clouded behind his eyes, like he was searching for all these words he wanted to say, instead he said, "Why'd you run, really?" He chastised, knowing you hadn't been totally honest before.

"You looked at me like you're looking at me now and it made me wonder..." He was so close to your lips, your breaths mingled in the cool summer night.

"Wonder?" He urged you to go on.

"Well, it's not possible right? I mean, Harry Potter has better things to do than know I exist." You poked fun at yourself, you didn't know why but he made you feel like you could joke about those kind of things. It felt so refreshing.

"You'd be surprised at what I know and don't know." His eyes never moved from your lips. It felt so easy.

Your eyes fluttered closed for a moment. "I ran because you make me nervous." So sensational.

"Why?"

"You know why." You felt so alive.

Just then his lips touched yours, uncertain at first, searching, questioning and then your hands found their way into his mussed up hair and he was yours. His body lit up like a Christmas tree at your touch, his lips on yours, electric. Harry let his hands wrap around your waist, the first aid lost to the depths of the kitchen floor. He pulled you into him, his touch so tender yet so passionate.

This was not a boy that didn't know you existed, this was a boy that imagined this moment a thousand times more than you had and he was alarmingly good at showing you as much. His eyelashes fluttered against your cheek as he deepend your kiss, his hands running up your side sending shivers across your body.

"Harry-" You whispered between breaths.

"You've no idea how long I've thought..." He smiled at you, composing himself. "How's that for knowing I exist?" You laughed.

"Wait you? But you've never even said one word to me!" You gafawed.

"Couldn't if I tried. You're always running away. Thought you hated me."

"I was terrified I'd make a fool of myself trying to put two sentences together!" You were back to laughing.

He smirked at you, that glint you couldn't explain in his eye again. "You did pretty well just now. No sentences required."

You scoffed, "Yeah, well you taught me a valuable lesson Harry Potter." You pulled him close to you again, your smiles twice as wide as each others.

"What's that? Don't run in the dark?" You shook your head at him.

"No. That I wasn't quite as invisible as I thought. And I'm glad, or tonight never would've happened."

Harry chuckled, leaning down to kiss you slowly, ages of pent up passion pooling into one lonely little kitchenette.

You realized, suddenly, even though your family was in pieces, a piece of yourself had been unearthed again today. The emotions you had burried for someone you never thought would see you were soaring to the surface. But the funny thing was, he had always seen you, even when you hadn't seen yourself.

You weren't in number 6 Privet Drive kissing Harry Potter because the universe hated you, you were finding the pieces of yourself you'd lost to your own doubt.

Suddenly there was a commotion so loud it startled you out of your makeout reverie. "HARRY POTTER!" Came the rumbling holler from down the street.

"Oh Godric, who on earth-" You didn't even have time to finish your question before Harry was racing to the front door looking white as a sheet.

"Uncle.Curfew.Sorry.Uh," He paused rushing back to you, he gripped your cheeks in both his palms, pressing his lips to yours in a somewhat humerous goodbye.

"What was that for?" You asked, laughing as he dashed to the door again, you close at his heels.

"Uh, just being neighborly." He grinned.

"Oh, well in that case, don't be a stranger." You took a moment to take him in, his boyish grin, his whole being brimming with the energy of trouble. He was perfect.

"You had me at 'Hey'." He winked. Probably to embarrass you, at which he was succeeding. "I'm not going anywhere for long." With that, he was gone. You watched his retreating figure down the street and into that house of horrors they called number 4.

You closed the door, leaning your weight against it. "What an idiot." You grinned.

^~^~^

Let's pretend Sirius is alive and well. It is my most sacred wish.

Also, should this have been smut? I dunno. I'm a fluffy kind 'o gal, but I guess let me know?

Masterlist

[theprenderelliepalace]

Not Her

☆•Five x Reader•☆

TAU S4 AU

Summary: Imagine you're the version of Dolores that kept Five sane when he got stuck in the future for 45 years, but you died before Five could save you. So what will he do when your face is the first he sees on the infamous train of time?

Warnings: Grammatical errors, s4 spoilers(!), mentions of character death, no use of y/n, cannon divergence (thank gosh), mentions of self-h*rm, enemies to you know what, angsty central, fighting, swearing etc.

Words: 2.1k (enjoyed writing this a little too much)

•☆•

You could barely remember why you landed up in this neverending subway station anymore. Time after time, arriving at the same moment, it became numbing. The rattling of the train on the tracks an aching lull that pulled you into the darkest corners of your mind. Your dreams were fitful and strange, swirling shapes howled around you, calling you, shaming you.

You woke with a start. The train was at a standstill again, you could make out the debris of another apocalyptic timeline beyond the hazy glass of the cabin. The doors opened, you sighed, your head falling against your knees. You considered the end then. The blissful hum of death beckoned you more than you'd ever known before. The same moment over and over, you couldn't go on like that... It only took a moment, you thought, for it to be done.

Suddenly you heard a noise. A voice. You looked up, startled. It was a man's voice, calling out into the station. Your first instinct is to reach for the knife strapped to your boot. Your hand quivers over the handle, you duck under the benches, inching towards the door. You hide beside the door, waiting for intruder to take his first steps into the cabin. You'll surprise him, it'll be quick and painless.

You itch for the conflict, it's something new, something different from the mundane station to station. It's almost exciting. Being trapped down here for so long, you've forgotten the horror you used to feel for the art of killing. You almost laugh, but steal yourself. Your favorite person in the world used to say that. Like it was a sport. You used to hate him for that, the very notion disgusted you.

Except now, you weren't any different from the Five Hargreeves you'd come to love and hate in the tumbling pattern of a toxic relationship you'd run away from.

The doors slid open. You readied yourself, shifting on your haunches. He stepped fully onto the train, the doors sliding closed behind him, sealing his fate. You artfully stepped out from your hiding place. Your breath hitched, your footsteps dead-silent. You lunged.

Your opponent was too slow. His surprise would be your advantage. You slammed him against the opposite bench. Pressing your knife to his throat. You used your weight to leverage him, ensuring he was ensnared I'm your trap. You made to swipe your wrist, ending his life, but you faltered.

"Fi-Five?" You croak. Your eyes widened, your breath shook. He pushed you off him, sending you hurtling into the doors of the train. You slammed into them with a force that took your breath. You crumpled to the floor. The shock of the blow rendering you dumbstruck.

"Who the hell are you?!" He yelled. His eyes were the eyes you dreamed of so many nights, those loving eyes, those terrifying eyes. They looked at you with so much contempt now. "Talk. Now. Or you die." You hadn't registered him pulling out a small caliber 45 from the holster at his waist. He pointed it straight at your head, unwavering.

"Five..." You sounded desperate, you hated yourself for it, but the need to have him close to you, to be your Five, it was all consuming.

His eyes flickered. His hands shook. "Why do you look like her?" He whispered. You were sure the question wasn't meant for you, but in that moment all yours were answered.

You carefully raised your hands over your head, getting shakily to your feet. "I'm not your version of her." You lowered your head, the false hope that this man had been your Five was shattered, your heart became heavier than before, almost like you lost him all over again. "And you're not him..." You whispered.

"Dolores?" He sounded so confused, so hurt.

You glanced up at him. "I don't go by that anymore. It- it was too painful." You shouldn't be telling this Five anything about yourself, but you can't help it, he's that sick son of a bitch any way you look at him and he's also the man you'd die for twice on Sundays. You can't help the way your heart pulses uncomfortably in your chest as his gaze bores into your soul.

Your new name roles off his tongue like bile. He spits at you like he's angry you made him say it. His gun is quivering in his hands. You can tell his resolve is crumbling. His eyes are wild but still searching yours, willing you to be telling the truth.

You take a daring step towards him, suddenly feeling slightly braver. You shouldn't get involved, you should kill him and forget this ever happened. You should make him hold you again. You're so conflicted it's making your head spin. You reach his outstretched hands, he's watching you so closely it's making you squirm, but he's motionless save for his hands.

You place a gentle palm over the gun, lowering it. He watches you with overflowing sadness. You suddenly think that he must wish you were the right version of you just as badly. He must long for your touch in the same way, dream of your absence the same way you do. He's breathing heavily as your bodies touch, only for a moment but moments feel like lifetimes to you now.

"What is this place?" He chokes, eyes still boring into yours.

"It's a kind of waypoint. The same moment in time across an infinity of timelines." You pause, your hand still gently resting over his. "You need to get off the train Five." You say it like you don't really register the words leaving your mouth and then suddenly it clicks. You grip his hands hard, he pulls back. "You need to get off this train. NOW."

You grab his forearm and begin to pull him towards the doors, they open as you get closer when suddenly he pulls away from you again. You turn to watch him shake his head, his dark hair falling into his eyes. "What about you?"

"I don't matter! Five, if you don't blink out of here now... you'll... you'll be stuck here forever." He's standing there as stubbornly as stone, brows furrowed. "Please Five. Please do this for me!" You gasp as you realize tears are streaming down your cheeks.

"But you-"

"I'm not her! Don't make that mistake. Please, if you ever cared about your version of me, you'll go back to honor her." You interrupt.

"What's honor without a little daring?" He smiles, like he's letting you in on a joke you don't understand.

The train begins to rattle beneath your feet. The strange echos of the voice over the loud speaker begins to boom overhead. You look at him pleadingly, begging him to listen to you. "Dammit Five!" And before you can tell him off, he's pulling you out of the train. You scream as you tumble to the ground but you can barely blink before a mass of energy sucks you into it. You're pulled and prodded and stretched and suddenly you're in the Umbrella mansion, panting.

"I'm gonna be sick." You keel over, Five catches you, pulling you into him.

"Shh. Shh." You almost laugh, to the untrained eye, Five seems to be helping you through your queasy spell, you however, know that he's telling you to shut your mouth.

"Five?" Someone calls from the upper levels of the house. Now that you're looking at it, it's a complete hazard. Floor boards are sticking out of the floor, dust coats the little art work that's still left, the windows are cracked and glazed over. No one's lived in this house for a very long time.

"We have to hide you." He panicks, shoving you out the front door and into the street. He leads you around the house and into a nearby alley.

You groan, your stomach giving a painful lurch. You stop in your tracks, leaning against the closest thing you can find, which happens to be a dumpster. "Two things. First, never, EVER, blink me again. Ever."

"I-"

"SECONDLY, why the hell do I have to hide if you're the one that brought me back to your timeline?!" You'd be angrier, but your queasy stomach and aching brain aren't making it happen.

He sighs, like you've just given him news that he can't wear his favorite suit. "Look, I saved your ass. A thanks Five would be great."

Arrogant little prick. "No thank you. I was fine where I was." You lie. "And you're changing the subject!" He averts his eyes from yours.

"I couldn't leave you, but we have history and well, my family can be rough around the edges when it comes to history." You feel your anger slowly ebb. You remember your Fives family, suddenly hiding behind a dumpster doesn't seem so bad.

"'Kay fine. Fine. Im here now and for what? Because you couldnt let go! God, all you Fives are the same!" He recoils as though you slapped him, you might as well have but what right does he have to bring you here against your will, to control you and pester you like he always does, to save you from suicide. You sigh, deflating. "I'm sorry. That was tactless. I'm angry."

"Thanks, I figured that out. Look, if you want to get back on that train be my guest, but I think I need your help. So, help me?" His voice cracks and you can't help the tug it has on your heart. "If your Five was anything like me, you know it's not easy for us to ask for anything." He gives you a look. "Come on, don't make me say it again..."

You stand up straight, giggling. "Okay Five. I'll help you. But then you help me. Deal?" You square each other up, measuring, testing, it's almost familiar to you.

"Deal."

•☆•

The next few days were, in your humble opinion, absolutely insane. You tried to do things off the books with Five, you really did, to hunt down this Jennifer girl, to help Five get on top of his reawakened powers and then it all went to shit, in other words his family found out.

Now you're driving in a busted up van full of people who hate you for reasons you dont understand all the way to some mystery town to find some guys missing daughter. It's uncomfortable to say the least.

Now that you've been puked on, you've about had enough. "Hey, uh, Diego, can we stop for a second..."

"Don't talk to my brother." Alison barks. You glance at her.

"Should I write him a letter instead?" You seethe. Klaus laughs from beside you which causes the others the groan bitterly.

Diego pulls the van off to the side of the road, allowing for a mass exodus of the Hargreeves family onto the snowy highway. There's bickering and moaning, but you're not really listening to them because Five is staring at you, burning holes into your head.

You sigh. "Something on my face?"

"Yeah. The bitch that almost got us all killed in the last apocalypse we stopped." Viktor answers, glaring, as if trying to make his words stab into you. If anything, he's just making you tired.

"Why you people can't listen, I don't know." You huffed exasperatedly. "I. Am. A. Different. Person. I don't know you people, I don't have your beef, I'm just helping because Five saved my life. End of discussion."

"Like hell you are! That's exactly what a Dolores would say." Alison shouts. Obviously their version of you pissed her off the most. You groan.

"I mean, Five hasn't exactly told us why he brought you here. And the name change? That's pretty suspicious..." Luther adds.

"Guys please. Hating each other is not going to save our behinds. This little lady here, new persona and all is probably going to keep us alive in the long run. If I know a her at all." Klaus chimes in, almost frantic. He reaches to pat your shoulder with a gloved hand, but stops himself midway, with an embarrassed little smile.

The siblings look about as confused as you but before any of them can chip in again, Five clears his throat matter of factly. "The reason she is here is because I trust her. Her powers are how we found this stupid girl in the first place."

"You heard Five. Stop whinging." Lila smiles, coming up behind you and wrapping and arm around your shoulder. "Water under the bridge sweetheart." She smiles sort of creepily at you, but you suppose she's trying to be genuine.

"Okay people. Pack it up, back in the van, if we want to make it on time we've gotta move it." Diego orders. Everyone files back to their seats, but you stare apprehensively at the puke infested floor.

Ben smiles evily at you as he passes, groaning as he flops into his seat. "Want to sit shotgun?" Five asks, smirking his stupid smirk.

"Desperately. But I don't take handouts." With that you climb over Ben and Klaus and plop down into your seat. Wishing you were anywhere else.

You watch Five shrug and clamber into his spot. Diego starts the engine and veers back onto the highway. You're not even on the road for 10 seconds before Ben shouts beside you. You turn suddenly to watch a car ram into the side your truck.

The screaming is unbearable, all you can think of are the flashes of your terrible life. Death and loss and heartbreak. You can remember calling out to Five as the van rolls, slamming into something hard. Your head throbs, your breath catches in your throat. Someone reaches out and grabs your hand and everything goes black...

•☆•

A/n Sorry not sorry for the cliffhanger!

Here's my masterlist if you like my stuffs

[theprenderelliepalace]

Tag, you owe me

☆• Five x reader •☆

Season 4 AU -The Umbrella Academy

A/n I'm pretending season 4 happened a lot less season 4ish- so imagine this:

Summary: After The Umbrella Academy stopped The Cleanse and saved the world, life was just as crazy as it had been before. It's Grace's 8th birthday and a lot has happened in two years for Five and the other Hargreeves, you being one of those things. Tensions are high at what should be a simple birthday party, so Five asks you to help him out. But when have you ever listened to Five?

Warnings: Fake dating, cannon typical Hargreaves chaos, fluff, s4 spoilers(!), no Five x Lila nonsense (but maybe a bit of drama...), no use of y/n, readers not a marigold baby (but could be), gramatical errors I'm sure, swearing etc.

•☆•

You met Five Hargreeves 2 years ago when you were a paper pusher for the CIA's cold case unit. He was rude, obnoxious in every sense of the word and irritatingly good at his job. Naturally you couldn't resist getting a coffee with him.

You only got strung along from there. Your first case that he dragged you into almost cost you your job and your life, but it also got you bumped up to your own undercover unit, where you spent your days bickering with the worst partner you could've dreamt of.

Two years later and you couldn't have hated him less, but you're trying to be civil.

"Hey Fiver, where'd you put those case files I asked you to sign off? - Mmph!!" Your words are muffled by a calloused hand covering your mouth. You squirm for freedom, your training kicking in. You look up briefly at your captor and physically deflate at the sight of him. You are tempted to scream and get him in trouble, but the look on his face makes you think twice.

"Not a word, or I swear-" You elbow him in the gut, not hard enough to hurt him, just hard enough to get a word in edgewise. His hand falls away in surprise.

You gasp for breath. "The hell are you doing you crazy mother-" His hand clamps over your mouth again. With his free hand, he points out into the lobby. You clock a Hispanic man with scraggly hair at reception. He seems to be talking to Sally at the front desk.

Based on your 2 years of experience with Five. You assume this is either a terrorist, or a family member. Judging by his overreaction, you guess family.

The man sighed at whatever Sally said to him and turns, walking down the hall towards the exit. Five frees you from his iron grip. You stumble away from him, turning on your heel with outrage written all over your face. "You need help."

He smirks, although he appears distracted. "Tell me something I don't know honey." You give him the finger.

"Fuck you. The hell was that about?" You snarl at him.

"Family business. Birthday party. Ugly, ugly stuff. Wouldn't want you to get involved. You might just mess up your nails." He mocks. Shuddering at the thought of his family.

"First of all, my nails are always fantastic. Secondly, don't bullshit me." Five quirks a brow at you. "You've been doing this song and dance with your mysterious 'family' since I first met you. You're just a coward in my book Fiver." You watch his jaw clench, taking satisfaction in striking a nerve.

"Oh. Okay, I see how it is partner. You want my crybaby, backstory? Well come 'n get it sister." He glares at you, waiting for you to accept the challenge. You scoff. This is ridiculous, you're well into your 20s, this whole thing is just juvenile.

"Can't we be more mature than this?" You plead, though sarcasm drips off your tongue with a lazy ease.

"One of us can't." He retorts. You roll your eyes. You've learned that when he gets like this, it's best to bow out for a few hours and wait for everything to return to normal.

"Okay. Okay. I'll get lost. But I warn you Fiver, this whole thing will only bite you in the ass one day." You shrug, making for the break room. He grabs your wrist.

"I hate that stupid nickname."

"I know you do. Honey." You taunt him. It's dangerous, but oh how it thrills you. He pulls you closer, your lips are dangerously close, but achingly far.

"You owe me, you know..." You watch the gears turn in his head as that look you know so well falls over his face. "An eye for an eye. What'dya say?" The smug smirk on his face is enough to make you want to smack him.

"How'd you figure that you fuckin' cowboy?" Your stomach swirls with hot, unadulterated hatred, and something else...

"Remember the Fortheim case?" He gambles, knowing he's already won.

"Okay! Okay... Enough said..." He leans back, satisfied.

"Atta girl." You slap him.

•☆•

And that little backstory, was how you ended up drinking apple juice at an 8 year-olds birthday party at a Lazer Tag joint downtown.

"Happy?" You ask Five, who's had you glued to his arm for the last 2 hours.

"Not a day in my life." He sighs. You shake your head, itching to snap back when you hear someone call his name.

"Five! Long time no see man." A gangly looking hipster saunters towards the two of you. You smile at him, you're not sure what it is, but you like him already. "Oooh, who's your little lady friend?"

"Girlfriend." You say.

"Date." He states. You and Five exchange glances.

Five clears his throat. "This is my brother, Klaus." Your partner straightens his tie, as though trying to blend into the wall and out of this conversation. Klaus hums in amusement, his eyes crinkling with silent mirth. The hippie extends a graceless arm towards Five, enveloping him in an iron side-hug.

"You'll forgive my brother. He's never been the social butterfly of our family." Klaus smiles, it's a stupid smile, but it makes your heart warm to the brotherly love evident in his gesture.

"I noticed." You smile at Five, who shrinks even further into the wall, if possible.

"So, Miss Five's Secret Girlfriend. Where did he find you?" Klaus inquires, almost as though he's speaking about the weather.

You laugh. "Oh some back alley somewhere. Nothing fancy."

"Klaus let me go." Five warns. Straining against his brothers grip. For a guy so skinny, he has incredible grip strength to hold onto his whirlwind of a brother.

Klaus ignores this demand. "Oh yes. Makes sense. Not that you look the alley-type sweetheart, I just know my brother." He winks at you.

You smirk in return. Thoroughly enjoying Fives suffering. "I guess you do."

Abruptly, Klaus releases Five, sending him hurtling backwards. You can barely stifle your giggles now. "Well, it's been a pleasure missy. You're too good for him by the way." Klaus struts off towards the food table, eyeing the chocolate éclairs hungrily.

"I agree." You say to Five, who's look of pure rage could topple buildings.

"I hate him." He scowls.

"Oh hush. He's great." You grab your fake boyfriend by the arm, tugging him towards a cluster of people talking behind a drink cooler, suddenly feeling all the more chatty.

"Five? I didn't think you'd come." Says a strikingly tall man with spiked blond hair. He glances at you and then at your hand clenched around Fives. The look of confusion on his face is priceless. "I- who? What -" Internally cackling at your newfound revelation, you make to reply.

"Hi, I'm Five's partner." Not entirely dishonest. You stick your hand towards him, he shakes it dumbly, lost for words.

"Five? A girlfriend? What, are we on a Prankshow?" Says the woman at his side. She eyes you suspiciously. "Sloane." She affirms. You nod with practiced ease.

Five looks about ready to kill. You decide to ease off some. "My other brother, Luther." Your partner growls. Luther smiles now, almost like he's somehow in on a very bad joke. He begins to say something, but you cut him off.

"It was nice to meet you both. Excuse me for a moment." You smile sweetly, heading for the bathrooms. You catch Fives deathstare. "Fiver." You wink. You cackle as you listen to the onslaught of questions and abuses from his family. Serves him right, dragging you all the way out here, explaining nothing and still managing to be the most cantankerous jerk you've ever met.

You duck behind a corner, taking a corridor that leads into one of the Lazer Tag rooms. You decide to wait until they cut the cake before you make your showstopping final appearance. You're feeling on top of the world until you feel a familiar hand clasp your wrist.

"When I said come to my nieces birthday party as a distraction, that was not what I meant."

You turn to face Five. "What, did you want us to make-out or something? Would that have been distracting enough?" You scoff, pulling your hand out of his. "You're such a prick Hargreaves, you know that? Dragging me out here as bait! What the hell am I even doing here? You've got a good enough relationship with your brothers. Why bother?"

He looks at down at his polished brogues, the lilac light from the strobing LEDs above making him look older, haggard even. "It's complicated."

"By all means, uncomplicate it."

"I- I had this thing with my brother's wife..."

"Jesus Five!"

He glares at you reproachfully. "Not like that dammit! He just thought... it was a godawful time in my life okay?" He sighs, like the weight of the confession was boring into his chest.

"Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry like that, but we're partners Five. We don't trick each other for petty stuff." You smile. "If you wanted to ask me out that bad, you shouldda just asked." You tease.

He smiles wryly. "That obvious huh?"

What? "What?" You gulp, dumbfounded.

He laughs at you, this achingly amazing laugh that catches you, making your laugh echo his in a sweet bubble of silliness.

"I've got to have a word with my brother, but," He smiles nervously at you. That's a first. "Do you wanna get outta here?"

"Depends on what I have an itch for." You smile coyly.

"Coffee?"

"Coffee."

He winks at you. "You got it partner." Suddenly your face becomes hot, you look away, enjoying the new meaning in the word. You glance up again, ready for a comeback only to find Five absent. It was strange, you could've swarn he couldn't have gone anywhere without you hearing him go. It was such a tight space, with hartily creaking floors.

In your stupor, you made your way back to the main party area. Finding Five, engrossed in conversation with the Hispanic man from earlier. You make your way over to them.

"Don't sweat it man. We're cool, Lila's cool."

"Says who?" You hear a woman's English accent from behind a brightly coloured piñata. The Hispanic man rolls his eyes.

"Don't listen to her. We're all good now Five. I get it, it was seven years."

Five tenses. "Nothing happened Diego." Diego laughs.

"I forget what a prude you are sometimes man. Chill. But I get it, you're trynna impress your new chica, right?" Diego glances at you slyly. You squirm slightly. Five turns, spots you and huffs.

"Okay. Goodbye. I've had enough of this family for one afternoon. Come on you." He waves at you over his shoulder.

"What? What girl- oh!" Lila, apparently, peers around the piñata and laughs, the complete hysterical kind. "Never in my life..." She pats Five on the shoulder, uttering something you can't hear.

By now, there are 7 people surrounding you, all smirking like idiots. You find it endearing.

You decide to take matters into your own hands. You take Fives hand, drag him away from his family and towards the door, but not before planting your palms tenderly on either side of his face and pressing your lips to his. He gasps into your kiss but his hands find your waist eventually, pulling you into him.

His siblings jeer and catcall, but you get the sense he doesn't care anymore. You giggle into the kiss as you watch him give them the finger. He pulls away from you, stranding out to the parking lot.

You gaze fondly at the people in the lobby and give them the bow they deserve. "Thank you and goodnight!" You smile at the laughter that echoes after you as the doors close behind you.

You race to catch up to Five, who's already waiting to open the passenger door for you. "I like your family Fiver."

He smiles, "They like you honey."

•☆•

Here's my masterlist if you like my stuffs...

[thegirlwhowrites642]

Could you recommend us some of your favorite hinny fics? Love your work btw!

Thank you <3

I would tell you to look at my bookmarks on Ao3 but I'll give you some highlights (I'll keep wips out of this because I never know how to feel about recommending unfinished work):

Gone was any trace of you -- I'm pretty sure I've read this something like a billion times, I can quote it word by word

Come stay for the summer -- this is always such a light fun work to re-read, I'm a big fan of muggle hinny, I really have a soft spot for it

Altered -- the obsession I have for this one-shot, this to me is hinny in its purest form

A Weasley reunion -- some hardcore pining from Harry, and fake dating, what do you want more from life?

Time -- Harry realising he wants children, with Ginny. The specific way in which the realisation is written is something I adore

Summer rain -- this is great, what else there is to say really, it's just great

Sacred new beginnings -- I love how this somehow manages to be a retelling of sixth year despite being a muggle AU with young adults hinny

Orchards -- the author definitely has a higher opinion of the "golden trio" than I have but the way she writes dialogues between Harry and Ginny is perfect, she also does a thing I love which is to make Ginny actually funny. It's one of her main personality traits and yet it's forgotten so often, I think it happens due to some sort of unconscious bias about women not being funny (not native English speakers writers are forgiven though because being funny in a foreign language can be quite hard)

After the leaves have fallen -- this talks about what I call Harry and Ginny's never-ending argument and it's written so beautifully

Everything I am is yours -- I just noticed that on ao3 it's signed as the first chapter of two but it definitely can stand on its own and is a very well done muggle retelling of Harry and Ginny's story

take what I took and give it back to you -- a beautifully written soulmates marks au that doesn't really change Harry and Ginny's story but, as one of the comments says, seems to bring up an existing implied element of the canon one

Already here -- because Hannah's stories that I love the most (they are all great though) are wips, I'll put this one in the hopes that one day she'll decide to turn it into a multi-chapter story (@takearisk-ao3 think about it 👀)

The brilliant dance -- this is so fucking funny and entertaining while also being heartwarming. Fucked up but inevitable/obsessed with each other hinny spending their early 20s being a hot mess is my AU drug

Someone else's life -- finished reading this a few days ago, a very well developed brilliant idea

[I already know the second I post this I'll realise I've forgotten some brilliant work]

[theprenderelliepalace]

Captains orders

°•°*°•°

James Potter x Reader

Summary: After a brutal encounter with some nasty Slytherins leaves you badly hurt, your boyfriend James Potter forbids you from playing in the upcoming Quidditch match. Furious, you give him the silent treatment, until you discover an alarming side-effect of the herbs you've been taking. Can you reconcile with him, or will it be to much to ask?

Tags:Established relationship, hurt/comfort, angst,fluff, Quidditch (is obviously important, it's James Potter, come on!), protectiveness, headstrong reader, enemies to lovers, friends to lovers

Warnings: Injury, language, bullying, angstiness up the kazoo, but some major lovey-doveyness too

Words: 2.3k

°•°*°•°

"That's ridiculous!" You shouted. James cringed at your tone, but remained resolute in his decision.

"Y/n, please. Those Slytherin girls really got you. I don't want you playing next week's match in this state." He gestured vaguely at you.

You were laying in extreme pain in one of the hospital beds Hogwarts had to offer to the ailing students.

You had been caught off gaurd by a gaggle of nasty Slytherin 7th years after Quidditch practice, about an hour ago. Madame Pomfrey was fussing about your bedside in a hasty fashion, muttering about horrible hexes and irresponsible students. She wasn't wrong, you'd been whacked pretty hard; with such a slew of jinxes that you hadn't had the time to react - still, you'd be daft if you thought you were going to be all better by tomorrow morning, but- "The match's a week away! I'll be in perfect health. You wait. When have I ever not bounced back?"

You glared at James Potter, Captain of the Gryffindoor Quidditch team, Hogwarts golden boy and your boyfriend. You couldn't have hated him more.

He sighed at you. "Y/n/n, don't be silly," Madame Pomfrey bustled away to finish brewing a particularly nasty looking potion at a nearby bedside table. "I've never seen her so worried, and I've come in here with bones broken so bad she's had a right go at me," He glanced towards her to make sure she couldnt hear him."And hexings worse than I think we're even allowed to know." He gave you a half-hearted smile.

"Please say you'll listen to me. Just this once." He pleaded, running his thumb across your bloodied cheek. His soft hazel eyes, that you'd come to adore, bore into your soul and tugged at your heart. "Come on princess, you can go right back to your headstrong self as soon as you're better. Even if that means you don't ever listen to me." He grumbled.

"I can play. I want to play. This is the final match of the term. You've been working us to the bone for this! Please Jamie, please let me play." You hadn't meant to sound so desperate, but your run in with the Slytherins had boiled your insides and you were itching with hate. You had to prove that you were better. He leaned over you and kissed your temple. It hurt, but you welcomed his tender affection. It made you forget about the horrible afternoon you'd had, and focus solely on your perfect boyfriend. And then he pulled away and it all came rushing back.

He stepped away from you and towards the hospital wings' doors. "I'm sorry sweetheart, Captains orders. I'll see you tonight at visiting hours." He looked heartbroken to say it. You were the best Keeper the Gryffindoor team had seen in a decade and the both of you knew it. There was no way you'd make it to the finals against Ravenclaw if James cut you out for this crucial match. He didn't even have a replacement on hand.

You scowled after him. Seething. "Whatever you say, Captain." Still, you knew very well that whatever James Potter said, went.

Madame Pomfrey came hurtling back towards you, she shoved a goblet of liquid down your throat before you could even blink. She pulled the cup away, gave it a moment while she fetched something from the other end of the hospital wing and got back just in time for you to hurl your guts out in the bucket she brought with her. "Uuuuggghh..."

°•°*°•°

You refused to talk to James for the next few days, period. He came to visit you every day at visiting hours, he'd waited patiently while you engaged Remus in animated conversation about your Transfigurations final. He'd scoffed as you chatted to Sirius about Hogwarts' latest gossip, but adeptly floated the conversation towards more pleasant things. You could tell he was fuming by the time you were talking to Peter about his girl troubles- and all the other Marauders had long since gone.

"Alright, Wormtail, out." He seethed. The poor boy was so startled he fell right out of his chair. He scurried past you, giving you a curt thanks and scuttled out the door. "Listen here-" James started.

"Oh what now? Got more orders Captain?" You spat at him. He scowled.

"Yes, actually. But I thought I'd write them down for you, so you can remember to ignore me instead of lazily playing coy." He was looking at you harshly. His brow set behind his square glasses.

"I'm not lazy!" You huffed.

"Oh yes you are. So lazy, you forgot, apparently," he laughed mirthlessly,"that you weren't talking to me."

Your eyes stung with hot tears that you refused to let fall. "At least I don't think I'm such a gift to Hogwarts that I can do whatever I want. I can say whatever I want because I'm bloody Captain of some lousy Quidditch team!" He looked taken aback for a moment, his eyes crinkling with surprise and then it turned into a cold glare, his mouth set.

"Didn't know you had such an opinion about it." He stood to leave. Taking his scarf off your lap, where he'd set it down as he'd arrived. You gasped at the force he used to snatch it from your hands. It's warmth, you only now realized had been comforting you while you spoke to your friends. A piece of him stolen from you before you could blink.

He strode towards the doors you'd become to accustomed to staring at and slammed them shut. Finally, those hot tears spilled from your eyes. A broken sob escaped your lips and your stomach clenched painfully with the effort of crying.

You fell asleep sometime after that, in pain, and painfully alone.

°•°*°•°

Saturday morning came faster than you'd expected. James however, couldn't have been avoiding you more successfully if he'd tried. The boys refused to talk to you about him, even if they were kind in their deception; and not once had your boyfriend visited you after your fight.

"Well dearie, you'll be rid of me shortly, I suspect. I see my Hillyfillous potion has worked it's course." Said Madame Pomfrey as she finished her thorough inspection of you.

"Hillyfillous?" You croaked. "Wait, Madame, doesn't that come from the Hilloculous root?" You felt your heartbeat quicken.

"Hmm? Oh yes! My, you are a clever one." She tutted proudly."You'd make an excellent Healer dear." You urged her to continue. "Yes, I ordered some last month, with the Headmasters permission of course. It's extremely effective for hexes and jinxes." She shook her head. "With all you children hexing each other left and right,I thought it was only prudent to procure some. Worked quite nicely on you, my dear."

Your heart was beating out of your chest now. Your breath coming out in shaky gasps. "But- but Madame, does that particular herb not cause drastic personality changes?" This sudden realization halted the world around you, your only thought getting glued to one thing...

"Yes, it has been known to. I gave you the right dose though. You shouldn't have had those effects unless you stressed yourself silly." She smiled to herself, like that was an impossible thing for a 16 year-old girl who'd just had a massive row with her boyfriend to do. She waved you a distracted goodbye as she bee-lined for her office.

You sat up, it hurt something wicked, but you had to see James. You had to explain that you hadn't meant those things you'd said. You were out of your mind! What was the batty old lady thinking? Giving you such a powerful herb...

You winced as your feet touched the ground. While your skin was returning to its usual colour, ugly red blotches still speckled your body and wherever they touched the cool surface of the castle floor, they seared with white-hot pain. You reached the bottom of the landing, turning back to see the Hospital Wing doors shut behind you. You leaned over the railing, feeling as though you'd pass out at any second. But you had to talk to James.

You staggard through the Hogwarts grounds. The cold air biting at you and your hot sores pinching your every nerve. You reached the Pitch just as the match was ending. Hords of students were washing up the hill towards the castle, but you needed to get to the Gryffindoor changing rooms.

You ducked behind a rickety wooden pillar and waited for the crowd to pass, before you made your way towards the changing rooms. You opened the door, the space was empty, save for discarded robes and uniforms. You found your legs gave out at the nearest bench. You'd missed him. Your head sunk into your hands, the dizziness overwhelming you.

"Oi, who's sneaking around my changing rooms- Y/n? Bloody hell." He was at your side in a heartbeat. You could hear the panic in his voice, even if his face was too blurry to see it. "Love, what on Merlins name are you doing?" He put a hand to your forehead, you must have been burning up because he recoiled with a gasp. "Come on," he tugged under your arms gently, asking you to stand.

You shook your head. "Need ...to.. talk ...to ... you." You huffed. Every word a stab to the gut.

"Oh, please Y/n. Not now. Don't be stubborn with me now. I need to get yo to Madam Pomfrey." He was scared. You could hear it in his voice. James was never scared...

"Do I... look that... bad?" You tried to smile up at him, you only managed to wince. He picked you up then. Your legs swung over his arms, your head falling against his chest. "I ... didn't mean those things... that I said. Jamie..." Tears slipped down your cheeks, falling into your hair. "I'm so sorry. It was the potion... I'd never. You're my everything. "

"Shh. It's okay, princess. I know." You grabbed a fistful of his shirt.

"Forgive me?" You tried, hopeful. "I was... a stubborn and- and a wicked witch..." He laughed. It was a brief chuckle, but it made you feel so safe and loved, you couldn't help but smile as you closed your eyes.

"Always." He promised.

°•°*°•°

"You gave me the fright of my life you know."

You looked up at him. The late Spring sun was cascading over his face. His glasses reflecting the light in a sort of sheen, that made him look all the more gorgeous.

"I'm sorry." You smiled. "Prongsy." He smirked at you, shifting you closer so that you could rest your head against his chest. The two of you were lazily sprawled out by the Great Black Lake. It's murky water as still as ever. The soft breeze wafing over and making you feel like a new chapter was being turned.

You turned away from him for a moment, the expanse of the lake making you feel like it's waters held all the answers... Yet, you knew only you could ask all the right questions. "Jamie, would-" You chose your next words carefully. "Would you mind if I told you something?" You turned back to him. He wrapped his arms around your waist protectively.

"Of course Y/n/n. What a question." He teased.

"I- the reason I had to come see you. Even though I was half out of my head to do it my that state."

"And barefoot." He commented, almost impressed. He placed a kiss to the top of your head. Waiting for you to continue.

"Knowing that I had that stuff in my system, that I'd said all those horrible things and I didn't really want to say them... It just made me realize how much I couldn't lose you." You sighed, like the weight of the confession was being torn off you with every word. "Those Slytherin snakes-" You felt his chuckle reverberate through you as he placed his chin on your head. "Well, they reminded me that sometimes we think too little of ourselves by trying to prove our worth to people who don't deserve to know it."

"I was so caught up in wanting to prove myself on the Quidditch Pitch, that I forgot you're the only person I've ever cared to prove myself for. You know?" You added bashfully. The confidence of your words sinking in. You were sure about it, about him, but it was still a very real confession.

He turned you so that your noses were inches apart. You were afraid to look up at him and find rejection in his eyes. He lifted your chin with his index finger, you opened you eyes, all you saw in those swirling pools of hazel was the one thing left you needed to confess.

"I love you." He said. "You're my everything, my princess." He meant every word.

You felt tears spring to your eyes, your face breaking into a striking smile. You kissed him tenderly, he wrapped a hand around the back of your neck, pulling you into him. He leaned back, your breathlessness not lost on him. Nor the effect you had on each other. He wiped a fallen tear from your cheek.

"You never cry." He smiled. "That's how I knew." You blinked at him.

"Knew what?" He beamed at you.

"That you loved me too. In the changing rooms, you cried, you probably don't remember, but you said something to me."

"Oh no." You groaned. The memories of that incident were hazy, more so, anything you might've said to embarrass yourself. You hid your face in his chest.

"You said that I was your everything. I'm pretty sure I know you're telling the truth whenever you cry." He smiled at you. You swatted your hand against his shoulder, he tried to dodge but ended up falling backwards into the grass. You followed, landing on top of him with a breathless giggle.

He gazed up at you and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. Love written all over his features.

"I love you, James Potter."

"Promise?"

"Is that an order Captain?" He rolled his eyes at you, looking exasperated. "Promise." You grinned.

°•°*°•°

A/n, unfortunately Gryffindoor did not win that particular match (you're just too good, they couldn't have done a proper job without you :p)

Masterlist

Requests are open(gimme some of dem ideas 💡)

[ad-wills]

[theprenderelliepalace]

It's our favorite way to *Robin Hood* on this site

[theprenderelliepalace]

A Simple Christmas

°•°*°•°

James Potter x Reader

Tags: Enemies to lovers, friends to lovers, slow burn, Christmas fluff, unrequited love, angst/fluff, GRYFFINDOOR QUIDITCH Y'ALL

Summary: You and James Potter have been rivals since first year, but a Quidditch incident in your fourth year brings you closer. Spending Christmas at the Potter's, you realize your feelings for James might be more than just rivalry. With a little holiday magic, you discover that sometimes love is hidden in the most unexpected places

Warnings: Minor injury, mild language, slight angst (concerned reader), tensions...

Words: 2.7k

°•°*°•°

You started the tradition of Christams at the Potter's in fourth year.

It was an unlikely thing for you to agree to, seeing as you hated James Potter's guts from the moment you bumped into him on the Express in first year.

He was rude, loud, arrogant and the most devious 11 year-old you'd ever had the displeasure of meeting.

And then he grew up...

He and his gang of Mauraders were always the talk of the school, "Potter this- Potter that." "Oh,did you hear about Potter's latest prank? It was brilliant!" You began to detest him with even greater passion. It certainly didn't help, in third year when you both tried out for the Gryffindoor Quiditch team. He was a great Seeker- you'd give him that- yet, every time you won a match, you couldn't help the strange sensation of emotions that would fill your chest and cloud your eyes.

He was so, easy, everything was easy for James Potter. Talking, smiling, laughing. You started to notice everything about him and suddenly that became easy too. He would do something funny and outrageous and you'd catch yourself staring. He'd make a quip at you, you'd fire back and you'd find yourself laughing. Smiling even!

Then every day, you'd tell yourself, 'this has to stop.' Or, 'pull yourself together, Y/n! We hate him! He's a foul example of Gryffindoor overconfidence, he's a lousy classmate. He couldn't spell the word reliable with the help of the Imperious Curse!' And then you'd stop short and sigh, and watch the way he talked to her.

Lily Evans was beautiful, she was the "most talented witch of her age," Professor Dippet would praise after every assignment. She was smart, she was vibrant. Everything James Potter could want. In fact he did, he'd wanted her from the very moment he'd seen her on that train. He'd bumped into you to get to her.

Was that why you hated him? Because he'd chosen her over you? You shook your head at the thought. No. Of course not, you'd both made your beds with those very first insults on that train. That's how it was and how it would always be.

Until it wasn't...

°•°*°•°

It was the first match of the term in your fourth year. Tensions were high. Slytherin vs. Gryffindoor. Everyone was on edge to get one over on the other house. You had to admit, you were feeling strung pretty high to win this particular game. And it was not happening.

You groaned from your broom as you listened to Sirius Black narrate yet another goal for Slytherin over the loud speaker with slew of curses flying off as rapidly as he could come up with them. You caught a brief glance of the new Transfigurations teacher, Professor McGonagall, snatch the microphone from him and tell him off with such sterness, you could understand why the infamous trouble causer was cowering in the stands.

You stole yourself from the scene and focused on the task at hand. A fellow Gryffindoor Chaser was flying for you, fast, you steadied yourself on your broom and prepared to take the Quaffle. You snatched it at lightning speed, taking off to the other end of the pitch, the Slytherin Chasers caught in your dust. You scored. "10 points to Gryffindoor!" Black shouted.

Good, you were tied now. You spun around, you jumped as something hurtled past you and downwards to the field. You heard the roars of the crowd before you could make out what it was. "Potter's got the snitch!" Sirius bellowed. The Gryffindoors were chanting Potter's name before you could even steady your broom. You were smiling at him.

He was holding the snitch in his hand, waving it around in triumph. "Way to go Potter!" You called down to him. He looked up at you, grinning at you lopsidedly.

"That a compliment Y/l/n?" You shook your head at him playfully.

"Don't let it go to you'd head!" His grin widened.

"Not like that would-" You couldn't hear the rest of his sentence before you looked around to find a Slytherin Beater 30 feat away, her bat raised over her shoulder and the bludger she'd hit, flying straight at you. All you could comprehend was the searing pain in your head as it made impact. You slid off your broom ... it was all so hazy... someone caught you... someone was saying your name... and then came the darkness.

°•°*°•°

You woke up with a searing headache and foggy vision. -"concussion Mr Potter. You must leave my patient to recover."

"But it's been days Madame Pomfrey. Shouldn't she be awake?" You couldn't quite make out the owner of the voice, your ears were buzzing like a colony of pixies were fluttering around in there. You made a guess though and when you gingerly opened an eye, the first thing you saw was his shaggy mop of black hair cascading over his worried face.

Worried? Why should he be worried about you? He hated you, right. Right? Then you listened to his voice, the pleading tone and lilt of angst. It was so unlike the boy you'd spent four years getting to know that you were taken aback. You felt the urge to make fun of him by saying something clever, instead you just groaned and your smirk turned into a grimace. "Y/n!"

He was by your side in a flash, or perhaps you'd just blinked really slowly. While Madame Pomfrey fussed over you, you listened to him talk. -" and then, that skeevy brat, she had the gall to pretend to be sorry when the ref told her off. Of course, the Captain was furious and he spent an hour and a half trying to disqualify them from the whole season. It's a pity we've got a Slytherin flying coach this year, else he totally wouldn't have allowed them to play after you'd got hurt." James shook his head like the very notion disgusted him. "But, I think their Beater, Doldra Macconal, she'll find herself a nice little surprise tomorrow morning." He smiled devilishly. Perhaps it was the ointment that Madame Pomfrey had put over your bruises that turned your face bright red but suddenly you felt very hot.

Madame Pomfrey bustled away to fetch a clean cloth and this gave you time to think. "Wait, who caught me after I fell? I would've had a few more broken bones than this if I just fell off my broom." It was the first time you'd actually spoken, your voice sounded foreign in your throat and you jumped slightly. James looked at you sympathetically for a moment before your question sunk in. You watched him curiously as his cheeks pinkened and a bashful look fluttered over his face.

"Well, you just fell, like, clean off your broom. And- and I was right there, so..." He seemed much to embarrassed to continue. So you finished for him. He nodded sheepishly. You smiled at him, even though it hurt and asked, "What'dya mean Macconnel will find a surprise tomorrow morning?" You glared at him more sternly, "James, what did you do?" He gafawed at you.

"I think that's the first time you've called me by my name." You looked surprised at him, even he seemed surprised. Then you both burst into laughter.

You chatted for what seemed like hours after that, going back and forth between the match and the gossip around Hogwarts while you'd been out. But after a painstakingly short 20 minutes, Madame Pomfrey shooed James out of the hospital wing. He glanced back at you with a sad smile. You tried to smile back, it didn't go very well, but he got the message.

When you got out of the hospital that seemed to be it. You, James Potter and his Marauding gang became inseparable after that. It was like all you needed to do was talk to him and suddenly you were head over heels- no! No way!

°•°*°•°

The train was bustling with students all heading home for the holidays. You stood on the platform, proudly suiting your 6th year status and watching the first years fondly as they lept onto the train. "Watcha thinking 'bout Y/n/n?" You smiled at James as he came to stand beside you. He heaved his luggage in front of him with a disgruntled huff.

"Hmm, just when we started being friends. Hey, what did you actually do to Macconnel after she bludgered me? I never actually asked." James laughed his hearty laugh that you'd come to love. You shook your head, stop it, you scolded yourself.

"Oh Goddric,it was so great. But id forgotten 'bout it. We gave her a right scare." He smiled fondly at the memory.

"It's creepy that you think about it with that kind of smile on your face." You stepped onto the train, dragging your trunk after you.

"Oi! What's that? What's wrong with my face?" He followed after you.

"I think she means you look right ugly Prongsy." Came Sirius's lilting voice from a nearby cabin. You laughed as you shoved past him, the two of you exchanging mischievous glances.

"Listen to Pads, James. He has a point." You stuck your tongue out at him, deciding to drop the Macconnel story. He glowered back at you. He heaved his trunk onto the top shelf, turning to you and so naturally lifting yours up, taking it from your hands. Your stomach did summersaults as your fingers brushed. Sirius chuckled. You spun on him and did a wild shushing motion with your full upper body. This only made him fully laugh.

James turned. "Eh, what's funny now?" Sirius held his hands up in mock surrender at your furious glare.

"Nothing, nothing mate. Swear it." He slumped down onto the seat closest to the window, leaving just enough room for you and James to sit achingly close together on the opposite bench. You felt like hexing him, but you supposed James would notice and ask what all the fuss was about. He wasn't that dense.

You elected to change the subject. "Moony not coming this year?" James and Sirius sighed in unison.

"Nope. Burried his nose so deep in the library's books I'm worried he'll turn into one before we get back after the holidays." Sirius answered. You scoffed.

"Oh please, he's so prepared for our N.E.W.T.S next year, even McGonagall is telling him to give it a rest."

"I know!" Both the boys exclaimed in unison. "Where's Wormtail though?" James asked the reclining nuisance of a wizard taking up half the cabin. Sirius shrugged.

"Dunno. Says your mummy scares him. Decided to stay and 'keep Remus alive.' Whatever that means."

The train ride back to the Potter's was usually your favorite part of the holiday, but so close to Prongs, you might as well have burst into flames where you sat. "You okay, Y/n/n?" Your very oblivious crush asked.

"Yeah." You cleared your throat. "Yep, just fine Prongs." You squeaked. Black sniggered. You threw your shoe at him.

"Hey!"

°•°*°•°

It was an hour to midnight, an hour 'til Christmas and you were wandering the Potter house in the dead of night. The absence of sleep very obvious. You sighed as you found yourself, yet again, in the living room. You plodded over to the fireplace, where the dying embers crackled soothingly. You sank down with a thud and a heavy sigh, curling your blanket around you.

A dawning realization had struck you about 3 hours ago and it was churning your insides like sticky taffy, getting stuck in your every waking thought. You were in love with James Potter. This morning, mind you, you'd mearly thought you'd liked him and then he smiled at you- really smiled- and you knew.

And it was the most impossible thought you'd ever had. He loved someone else, someone much better than you. He maybe didn't deserve her, but he certainly had more of a shot with her than you did with him. He was your best friend! Loving him was like loving your pet Grindylow until it bites your hand off. You didn't want your friendship to be at stake, it was the last thing you wanted to think about, but here you were; thinking about it.

"Y/n?" Came his groggy voice from the stairs landing.

"Yeah Jamie?" Whoops, that just slipped out. Obviously he didn't notice because he came and sat beside you. You watched him rub the sleep from his eyes and yawn. He put his hands out in front of the fire and shuddered.

"It's bloody cold down here. Why're you still up?" You shrugged. Tucking a stray strand of hair behind his ear. The firelight made his cheeks look redder than usual.

"Lots to think about. Why're you still up?" You mimicked. He glanced away.

"I've been thinking; there's this girl-"

"Yeah, yeah, Prongsy, Lily, the light of your life. Let's assume I've probably heard it before." You felt your heart tug painfully.

"When have you heard me talk about Evans like that?" He accused.

"Uhm, all these long, harrowing years that I've known you?" You shot back.

"Harrowing. Huh." He huffed. Looking affronted. You smiled at him softly. Bumping your shoulder against his.

"Sorry Jamie." It happened again, but you didn't really mind.

"See there you go again!" He shouted, standing up. You were following him before you knew it. Your blanket falling to the floor.

"Shh! Shh!" You pointed to the ceiling, warning him about waking his parents. He shook his head.

"You're bossing me around and it's driving me crazy!" He whisper-yelled. "You're- you're calling me these sweet little nicknames. You're brushing my hair out of my face, you're worried about me when I get hurt on the Pitch. And Merlin Y/n, the way you look at me..." He softened now, "The way you look at me just makes me..."

"Crazy?" You finished. Your heart was beating out of your chest. There was a glimmer of something there, but you couldn't let it be hope. He was looking at you dazedly through his square glasses, his hair ruffled and his lips softly parted. You could imagine the feel of them against yours.

He gulped. "Something like that." And then it clicked.

"In- in fourth year, when I'd just woken up in the hospital wing. I asked you, I asked you if you liked me or something, because you were acting so strangely... I just thought... but it was a joke!" You were whisper-yelling now. Frantic. "You replied and, and I didn't hear you... but you said that. You said-"

"Or something." You were both staring at each other. The tension so thick you couldn't cut it with a knife.

You shook your head. "You're in love with Evans!" He took a slow step towards you. "I'm not her, I could never be her. I wouldn't want to be."

"Good." He said as he reached you, he put a tender hand to your cheek. "Because I haven't thought about Lily Evans even half as much as I've ever thought about you. She couldn't hold a floating candle to you Y/n. Not in my head." The look in his eyes was so soft, so beseeching, that you just had to ask:

"Jamie, kiss me already?" And suddenly he was on you. His lips colliding with yours, melding into you. He felt so perfect, a piece of a puzzle snapping into place. He prodded your lips with his tongue, you eagerly obliged, your lips parting.

You both groaned into the kiss as he deepend it. You wrapped your arms around his neck, he leveraged your legs in his hands, guiding you to jump up and wrap your legs around his waist. You were just about to take his glasses off when-

"Bout bloody time. You know lovebirds, I couldn't stand one more bloody Christmas with you two pining after each other. I think Moony was going to implode if we had to see one more honey-eyed-"

"Sirius!" You both shouted. James let you out of his grasp, but he kept you firmly pinned to his chest.

"Sod off, you prat. We're busy." James growled.Padfoot waved an absent hand and turned to head back upstairs.

"Off I go. But Merry Christmas to the happy couple." He snickered. "Ooo, this is the best Christmas present ever! Those two back at Hogwarts are gonna be so mad!" He said with a singsong cheeriness that was much too righteous for 12 am. The clock struck midnight.

"Happy Christmas Y/n." James smiled at you warmly.

You kissed him again, running your hands through his tussled hair. "Merry Christmas Jamie." He picked you up again and you giggled at him. "You know what I want my Christmas present to be?"

"What, princess?" He asked with a lovesick smile.

"Be my boyfriend?" He beamed at you.

"Ask and you shall receive!" He threw you onto the couch, you shrieked and giggled as he followed suit. He shushed you, but it would be many hours before either of you were actually quiet.

°•°*°•°

A/n Yes! Okay, I know it's cannon divergent but I thought it was cute (and yes, probably getting hit square in the head with a bludger would blow your brain up, but I'm allowed some creative and magical liberties).

Requests/asks are open

Masterlist

[theprenderelliepalace]

Perception

Part 4

Part 1, part 2, part 3

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Summary: Y/n just wanted to drop some books off at the Salvatores. She expects to find trouble, being the odd one out and everything, she doesn't expect his name to be Damon Salvatore. And with the week she's had? Everything is falling out of place and now the monsters of her past are out to get her.

Warnings: angst, violence, kidnapping, injuries, vampire stuffs (obviously, otherwise why are you here?), uhm lore dump***, fast burn AF, language probably...

Word count: 1.7k

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The silence was loud.The shuffling of feet and the whispers of words that were just out of reach, a pounding baseline against my skull.

The past twenty-four hours came flooding back to me like a dam burst. Damon kissed me, he kissed me like he needed me as much as I needed air. It was hungry, enough to devour me whole. And then I was alone again. In the woods clearing my head. And then I was passing out, the sheer proximity of the spiteful vampire, my complete downfall. His words literally rattling around in my head. I was his... what? Soulmate? Do vampires even have those?

And then bang, we were hit head on by a car.

I opened my eyes suddenly, the room was dark, save for the Crack of light peeking through an abandoned doorway. My body throbbed in any direction I turned, my neck ached with a firey passion.

I noticed I was slumped against the wall, I also noticed that there was a sulking figure in the opposite corner. "Damon?" I should've heard him breath, but the room was painfully silent. I got to my knees, the pain blinding. Everything stung as I crawled across the floor. Splinters sprung up underneath my hands and dug into my skin. I reached him, I put my hands on his shoulders, I shook him gently. "Damon." I repeated.

I sighed as I heard him stir. He tuned towards me, his eyes screwed shut. "What-?" Suddenly there was motion, noise. It dulled the aching thrum of the quiet, that the pounding of my heart had filled moments ago. I placed my fingers to his lips to shush him. We waited.

"Yeah, we got the two for 'im. Don't think it wasn't a bitch to get the vampire to cooperate." There was the static pause that came with the response over the phone. "Well bloody tell 'im that the boss doesn't like to waste time. We're traders. If you ain't got nothin' to trade, don't bother calling back before the deal's done." The man down the hall hung up.

Damon tensed next to me as his heavy footfalls echoed down the hall. I felt something in Damon resolve, maybe it was this freaky mental bond between us, or maybe it was my own enhanced perception but I tensed with him.

The door swung open and suddenly I was being pulled by the waist faster than I could blink. Damon rushed the guy, shoving him against the doorframe as we passed. I heard the man grunt but we were gone before I could see his face. He called after us, and my ears ached as his words bounced off the walls and rattled in my skull as Damon raced towards some unseen escape, ~"supposed to keep him down until The Maker... call him! Don't let them escape!" Several voices trailed after him. It was all too much to take after everything that happened.

Inexplicably, I felt the rush of cool air against my cheeks. I realised I'd closed my eyes. When I opened them we were surrounded by woods. The trees were tall and looming like I'd described the Boarding house, except the death and decay I felt from them was rancid and dangerous. Vampires lived here, a lot of them.

"Shit, Y/n, you need to walk. I can't vamp-speed us out of here." He huffed. I noticed, even in the absence of the moonlight, the sweat that glistened on his brow and the heavy rise and fall of his chest. His clothes were torn and bloody. Then I saw his neck...

"Damon-" my heart panged at the sight.

"Not now!" He chastised in a whisper. We could still here the shouts and leers coming across the clearing from our captors. It made me shudder. Damon's hand, that I forgot had been clamped tightly around my waist pulled me tighter. A part of me should've hated him, he lied and tormented and for as long as I've known him, been a righteous jack-ass. The other part of me told myself I was stupid and he'd just saved my life.

I would deal with what came next later. "Okay," He whispered, "can you stand?" I nodded. "Good. I can hear the highway due South, we need to be absurdly quiet. Like, we don't even exist quiet." He looked at me, I must've looked terrified because he added, "Think Stefan and Elena when I walk into a room." I wanted to laugh, I really did, but I just nodded my head shakily.

So we walked. I held onto him, my left leg in agony with every step. I could feel Damon was putting on a brave face, even with the gaping, bite-shaped gash that poured blood down his neck. He wasn't going to make it to the highway.

"Damon, stop." He shook his head, not really listening. "Damon, just," I wanted to find the words, "Do what somebody asks of you, ifor once?" He scowled at me. We stopped. I had no ides how long we had been walking, but I knew I had to help him. It was my only chance of getting somewhere safe. And ashamedly, I had to admit that I wanted answers. I extended my wrist and he looked at me. "It's not that confusing. Or do I have to explain the process of being a vampire to a vampire?" That was supposed to be funny. I shook my head at him. "I'm serious. You need blood if we're gonna get out of here. Just heal me if I pass out." I started to feel squirmish under his scrutinizing gaze.

"I wanted to tell you." He started. He looked away from me, my something I don't think he could see. "When a vampire... when a vampire has been alive long enough, sometimes this freak of nature crap happens and it sucks two souls together." His words were slurred and I went with him as he fell to the ground. "It's all about witchy balance, mumbo-jumbo."

"But what does that mean? I mean, why is it such a big deal? Hundreds of vampires have lived longer than you." It was so surreal to see him like this. Almost-

"Because it's a curse. The darkness of the night always taints whatever light it touches. That's how it's always been." He grimaced.

"Are you scared?" I asked.

He looked up at me. "Yes. I wanted to talk to a witch I know in Georgia. She knows about the blood curse."

"Blood curse?" He looked at the wrist I had offered him. "Oh." It was all snapping into place. "So that's why we've been so, off, around each other? It's a curse?" He nodded. His breath even more ragged.

"The curse of an immortal. To be die for his obsession for his mortal counter part. If they bond, she'll never be able to turn and he'll never get enough of her blood. Eventually they both die of madness." He said it like it had bitten him and the very words rolled off his tongue with a venom that rattled through me. It was terrifying.

"But, you need to get us out of here." He scoffed, the bitterness written across his sculptured face.

"And then what Y/n? We go about our lives? We succumb to the curse and the lust? And then you fucking die?" His nails dug into my wrist, the very life essence that we both so desperately needed, pooling underneath his hand. I watched the veins under his eyes pulse.

"I can't... it's too cruel. Even for me Y/n. It's too much to ask. What's another day worth anyways?" He laughed. It was a hollow sound. "I've been a monster all my life and that's fine. I can be the bad guy, but not with you. I just can't. I don't even know if that's me, or some shitty curse that's an anomaly in of itself." Damon looked awful, his skin was paling and his brow was furrowed in a mixture of grief and pain.

I touched his face. "Hey, maybe it's cruel, maybe it's too much to ask. But shit happens Damon. The test of a person is never how they fall. It's how they get up and I need us to get up. Later is later. I can deal with that, but I need us to be a team right now. And maybe... maybe you're right, and it's just some shitty curse, but it doesn't matter." He looked up at me, surprise glinting in his cerulean eyes. I pressed my wrist against his lips. "Because I knew you were a fighter, that's why I didn't shoot you when we first met. I couldn't get that fire out of my head. You were all consuming and dammit if that man can't find away around a dumb, luck of the draw curse."

He searched my eyes, my face,my very soul. He asked me if I really meant what I said, if I was okay with this, with him. As much I wanted to say that I should hate him, I didn't. As much as I wanted to run as fast as I could, I wouldn't because the man I had come to know had this incredible allure about him. A sensation I could only describe as a roaring blaze. That's the man that I wanted to win against all odds with. And I would.

His fangs dug into my flesh, the feeling was pain and pleasure all in one. I felt something solidify between us, the magic that kept Damon alive and the power that allowed me to see beyond my wildest dreams, it intertwined so beautifully, that I couldn't help but shed a tear.

-----------

It was sunrise when I woke up against Damon's chest. The woods seemed less frightening now, as the birds chirped and the golden rays of light blossomed through the leaves. I smiled at how the light caught his eyelashes and made him look so peaceful in sleep.

Then I heard the roaring of cars in the distance. "Damon!" I shoved his chest as I began to rise. He groaned and grimaced against the light. He lifted a hand to the sun.

"Wha-?" He could barely finish a thought before I was pulling him up and racing towards the sound.

"I hear the Highway!" I beamed at him.

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#angst dump yo! Maybe I was just in a mood ya'll

But I'm liking where this is headed. Some plot, some action, some romance, some lore. Life is good in my little fanfiction world.

Go check out my asks if you like this story (REQUESTS ARE OPEN)

Masterlist

[theprenderelliepalace]

College AU

Damon x reader

Summary: y/n always had a thing for bad boys in leather jackets. Too bad she's a day late and a dollar short. When the infamous Damon Salvatore rolls up to her literature class, with his stupid smirk and all-black wardrobe, she should be done for, but y/n's heart was broken a long time ago. So what're two wild cards to do with two broken hearts on a college campus?

Word count: 1.4k

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, bad break-ups, Katherine (our favorite baddie), wasted coffee, fluff (implied smut) and school stress

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"Please leave." I paused. "You look like you're dressed for a funeral and it's depressing me." I was walking across campus to my next class, the incarnation of trouble and arrogant bad boy, Damon Salvatore, hot on my heels.

"Oh come on! I bought you coffee. Doesn't that score me some brownie points?" He caught up to me. His strides were long and languid, like he was having no trouble at all harrasing me in broad daylight while I was breathless and almost sprinting to get away from him.

I stopped and turned on my heel to face him. He was taller than me, alarmingly so. His hair was swept against his forehead in that heart-throbbing, 'Damon way', that made my knees weak. "Technically, you didn't make me brownies- he gave me a look, "and yes, that is what it should mean. So no. You bought me shitty coffee, asked me out on a date I would rather drink toilet water than go on AND you have the nerve to follow me around like a lost puppy!" He shook his head with a silent smile that made him look so gorgeous I almost passed put, then and there.

I cleared my throat. I threw the cup that had been shoved unceremoniously into my hand five minutes ago, across the campus courtyard. It hit the side of an unassuming trash can with a dull thud. "Go fetch." I shook my shoulders as if to shake my resolve over me like a veil of iron. "Or chase your tail or something. But leave me out of it." He stepped in front of me, his shoulders were set and his jaw was hard, yet there was a mischievous twinkle in his eye that told me trouble was near...

"You have a big mouth for something so little. Makes a guy want to knock you off your high horse." He leaned in, his lips inches from my ear. His breath was warm, a comfort against the icy November gloom. I shook my head and started to shove past him, he caught my wrist and pulled me into his chest. "So you can ride something else-"

My face flushed the deepest shade of red I could imagine." ALRIGHT. Thank you Salvatore, for that lovely mental picture! I'm going to pretend you don't exist now!" I rushed to the other side of the courtyard. My heart was beating at a million miles an hour as I turned my coat collar against the wind and to hide my face from the rest of the world (I hoped my coat would just eat me alive then and there). All the while that I ran, I could hear his unbridled laughter echoing across campus. It followed me like a shadow and clung to my very heart. It was a sound that made me want to laugh too, but I couldn't.

I wasn't about to let my heart break over another mistake like Damon Salvatore. Right?

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

I was alone in my dorm when it started to rain. The sound was unnatural this late into the year, but welcoming. It made me forget about my leather-clad stalker and my 400 page paper due next week. It made me forget about home and work and stress.

It made me remember the cheap whiskey hidden under a loose floorboard under my roommates bed.

I decided I would head up to the roof. It was quiet enough. I just wanted to relax. Let loose and forget about the world for a while, let all my troubles wash down with the pitter-patter of the rain. I opened the door and what was the first thing I saw?

"Oh, fuck you." He turned. This excruciatingly jerkish grin plastered on his face. His hair was slicked back and damp with the rain. His leather jacket hung loosely over his sweatshirt, it drew my eyes down to his jeans. The way they hugged his- "Aren't stalkers supposed to do recon too? Like, don't they sit FAR, far away and take stupid pictures for their creepy alters?"

He ignored me. He walked over and stood under the awning in front of me. "See something you like?" His voice was low, almost hungry in its desire. Suddenly the rain didn't make me feel cold anymore. I couldn't speak, I couldn't move. He smiled at me, grabbing for the bottle that i hadn't realised was still in my hands. He scrutinized the brand. "Remind me to teach you to have better taste." He tutted.

He walked along the side of the building, sitting on the bench at the edge of the awning. I stared at him. I was so out of it at this point, I might as well go out with a bang and a shot of whiskey.

I sat next to him, falling into place like I was supposed to be there. "Why do you like me Damon?" I scoffed. "Do you even like me, or do you just have a thing for girls who say no? If so, get a life." He snickered and took a swig from the bottle. I reached out for it and took another.

"You are a lot more like me than you want to admit." I must be drunk already, because I gave the bottle back to him and glanced up. He had this sad whisper of a smile dancing across his lips. A torment in his eyes that I should've known all too well.

"How so?" I asked. I shivered with the gust of wind that seemed to bring the first real silence that I had ever experienced with Damon.

"You don't want to admit you have a heart. It's funny because none of us ever do. We just assume that we survive on words and thoughts, it's always a matter of the heart and the head..." He took another swig. "No one ever tells you how to survive when both are broken."

"You say that like you've never heard of duct tape before." He laughed as I drank. I slumped down against the bench, my feet dangled out in front of me and I watched the rain drops splash against my boots. "What was her name?"

It was a long shot, a drunken guess that I never expected him to answer. "Katherine. She, was something..." Suddenly, this raging pyscho that I thought I knew as mean and brutish was vulnerable. It felt like he was almost human.

"I had someone too. I don't think my heart can take another fuck-up. It's not like my head's doing any better." I ran my hand through my hair. I looked up at him, he was smirking at me. That charming smile that I had come to know to mean trouble had a different meaning behind it now. Almost like he knew a secret.

"Is that why you threw my coffee and missed the trash?"

"Uh, no. You have terrible taste in coffee." He shrugged. "Plus, I don't have a very good throwing arm." We looked at each for a moment before we burst out in a fit of giggles that was drowned out by the roar of thunder.

We talked until the bottle was empty. We kissed until the rain stopped and the wind picked up. It howled at ripped at our clothes. I pried myself out of his iron grip, my lips were swolen just like his were. Except he wore that stupid smirk on his stupid face.

"I hate that." I pointed to his lips with my index finger, he ran his tongue down the digit, "Hey!",and brought my palm up to his mouth. He kissed the center so tenderly but his eyes were dead serious. It made my stomach clench. A gust of wind shoved me forward and I landed against his chest. He caught me with ease and steadied me.

Damon winked as he picked me up bridal style and carried me towards the exit. "Hey Mr Bad-boy, don't buy me coffee." He rolled his eyes at me.

I opened the door for him and then wrapped my arms around his neck as it swung closed behind us. "Buy me dinner." I smiled.

"Yes Ma'am." He grinned.

I kissed him, he shoved me against the wall. We never got dinner, but he did make me pancakes the next morning.

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First ever one-shot man! Sorry it's fluffy but dang if I don't like me some banter

REQUESTS OPEN

Comment and reblog what you think. It would make lil' old me very happy :)

Masterlist

[theprenderelliepalace]

Perception

Pt 3 , Pt 2, Pt 1

Summary: Y/n was just dropping some books off at the Salvatore residence. She expected to find trouble, being the odd one out and everything, she didn't expect his name to be Damon Salvatore. What happens when the infamous leather-clad vampire was just as unprepared for her?

Warnings: angst, violence, weaponry, swearing, probably a crisis of some kind

Word count: 1.9k

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Damon's POV

Six months ago...

I was hunting, like usual. My lust for a good time as sinful as the creature of the night that I was ( as my brother would so poetically put it).

I scanned the town square with a bored expression on my face, I was anything but. My heart rate was ellivated by vampire standards. I could feel the pulse of adrenaline through my veins, I could taste the sweet, metallic, tang of prey's blood on my tongue already. The perks of being a vampire, I guess. Everything was heightened to prepare for the kill, that's what made it so exhilarating.

To some extent, the thrill of the hunt was more satisfying than the kill, for me, at least.

When I was in my early 120s, I was tangled up with this exquisite gypsy-girl from Romania. She was human, but she thrived on the thrills of life. I smiled to myself as I remembered how she'd told me to chase a high like I would chase a pretty girl, one night of passionate sin for the thrill of adventure. Her English had been terrible and she'd been high as a kite at the time, still, her words had clung to me a little harder than I thought they would.

Now, I almost felt like the old man that I was, sitting on a darkened park bench in the middle of a nowhere-town that I had once called home. I was reminiscing, when seconds ago, I was pumped up to catch and feast on some hot sorority girl spending her spring break away from college. I shook my head, trying to snap myself out of whatever emotional rush I was wigging out on.

I looked up, it was an accident, happenstance really, and still I had my breath knocked away by her. She had this secret fire about her as she walked towards the Grille. She was 100 feet away, a ridiculous distance to be noticing all those little details that anyone else would've missed. The way her eyelashes fluttered over her cheeks, the way her hair danced as she walked, the way she held a secret smile that was only for herself. Then she stopped.

I was half-heartedly brought out of my trance, realizing that I was on the edge of my seat without remembering when I'd moved. I blinked. She was talking to someone. I rolled my eyes as my enhanced vision brought me to Caroline Forbes' face. She was smiling widely at the girl, her arms gesturing in a false bravado of warmth. They hugged, I noticed that the girl went stiff, her inner fire that had me literally lost for words, bound up into a little ball as she searched for words to say to a long lost friend. Not very friendly, if you ask me. I scoffed, getting up. I considered making my way over to the pair when Elena Gilbert and the Judgey witch joined the party.

The new girl visibly seethed at the sight of Elena. For some reason I felt something stir within the magic that kept me alive after death. I stumbled backwards, gasping for breath I didn't need. Okay, what the hell?

The new girl was storming off now, away from the dumbfounded trio and off in the direction of the woods. For the same inexplicable reason that I had just been knocked backwards, I followed her. I found myself thinking that I should make sure she was alright. I stopped, stared at the faraway treeline and vaguely wondered if I was high and when I'd consumed another substance that wasn't AB positive.

Suddenly I was walking again, I was a couple hundred paces away from her now, she marched with a fury that I would've found funny if I didn't feel so weird as my legs moved on their own. I should stop this, I'll call Ric and get drunk at the Grille and forget about this stupid girl. She's nobody, and you're Damon Salvatore for God's sake, pull yourself together.

I looked around, I was in a parking lot. The bays were dirt and gravel and there was a trail that led into the forest up ahead. I tensed. I had known these woods my entire life; I went hunting in them, alone, for weeks at a time when I was a boy, but for the first time in my life I was completely lost. My head thrummed in my disorientation and my vampire instics were going haywire, there was danger, I should move, I can't move.

Then she was on me. It was so fast I didn't even know what was happening until I was flat on my back in the dirt. I groaned, my ears buzzing with the impact of hitting the ground. I opened my eyes and saw her standing over me. I wanted to smile at her, even at the worst time possible, that was my first instinct. She looked beautiful silhouetted against the stars. Her chest rose quickly as she steadied herself after knocking me down. That must've taken an insane amount of force for this-this child. Suddenly I was back. Who the fuck does she think she is pinning down in the goddamm dirt? And what the fuck was I thinking letting my guard down?

I moved my shoulders, tensing to prepare for the impact of knocking her off me when I saw the glint if silver clutched in her steady hands. It was a small handgun, delicate in nature with the pungent odour vervain radiating from the barrel. She had a deadly glint in her eye as she readied herself for the kill. Without thinking about it, I felt my head collapse against the ground in revelation, she's a lot like me...

"What d'ya want, vampire?" She said it with a snarl so venomous I almost jumped. I cocked my head to the side to see her better.

"What's your name?" I said it hastily, like the words spilled out of a nasty gash in my throat before I could stop them. I felt weirdly calm knowing this girl could possibly kill me at the flick of a wrist.

"What?" She looked surprised. Then she laughed, it was short and to the point but it was brilliant. A symphony of death and teenage turmoil. "You're about to be shot in the face and all you can think about is some girls name?" She looked at me with a skeptical smirk.

I shrugged, not feeling as blasé as I looked. "Character flaw."

"Clearly." She paused. "You do that practiced confidence thing pretty well." When I stared at her, she clarified. "I mean, it's plain to see you're stressed. I guess I would be too if I had a gun to my face."

"You've never killed before. You're not going to start now." I was testing her, waiting for that weak spot, still, the thought of harming her made the magic in my blood curdle. I held my hands out in surrender at my sides. Her grip tightened around her pistol.

"Clearly I'm not the only person in this town with eyes." She muttered it under breath, but I wondered what it meant as she slowly deliberated what to do. "If I let you up... that's probably a bad idea, right?"

"Well, if I was you, I would've shot myself already. So not really a good start darlin'." I smirked at her. Almost... She looked away, it was only for a second, but it was enough. Suddenly I was out, her stance was unsteady, her determination altered. It was the perfect chance to get the hell away from here. It wasn't often that the Damon Salvatore was known for running away, but I'd be damned if I let myself die over the wildest trip I'd ever had. Or whatever this was. "Better luck next time killer. Try target practice before you wave that thing around-" I was almost laughing, I was almost free.

There was a crippling pain in my right foot. The burn of vervain had me doubled over before I could blink. The ring of the gun firing was still blocking my senses. She was standing where I'd gotten away from her. Her shoulders raised and her brow set. "I don't like vampires following me and I don't miss. You do the math and then think about how many limbs you got." She waited for an answer, why she thought I would, was beyond me. She took a step forward pointing the gun to my left. I shuffled backwards, raising my hands in surrender.

"Alright! Alright. Calm down. I'll leave you alone." I grimaced at the pain that shot through my leg when I limped up and tried to steady myself.

"Huh. First time I've heard that one." I couldn't really tell if she was serious or not, but honestly , I didn't care. I needed to get out of here and away from this nutcase. I turned and began the painstaking journey back to the Boarding House. "Y/n." I turned back to look at her. She'd lowered her weapon and was looking at me with big questioning eyes, I wished I had the answers.

"You shoot all the guys that hit on you, Y/n?" And then I was gone.

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The next six months were probably the strangest in my entire afterlife.

Between the teenage drama and the life threatening war with the Original fucking vampires, I was so tired I could barely walk straight. And still, all this time all my every consuming thought, was about this girl. This girl that was passed out in my arms in the woods, this girl that I was going to drive to Georgia for to get much deserved answers. This girl that was my- something impossible.

We'd been on the road for 2 hours when she started to stir. I tensed my hands around the wheel when I thought about what I needed to tell her. Vampires, through some mystery of the Great beyond, couldn't follow nature's path. Our souls were so burned by the magic of vampirism that it was inconceivable, impossible even, to find our other halves. The balance to the darkness, the humanity to the beast.

It wasn't in our nature to be fated to anything. We were a species of the night, cruel and unforgiving. We didn't get to be balanced. It was always the monster, so long as eternity shall be. That is what The Maker said anyways. What if he was wrong? I shuddered at the thought. "Damon?" Her voice was croaky, she sounded as weak as I knew we both felt.

"Hey. Listen, don't move yet. Just get some more rest. We'll be there soon." Coward.

She groaned. "Where?" I kept silent. She followed suit. I heard her shuffle in her seat. The rustle of her hair was almost unbearable to listen to, her breathing just as heart-wrenching. "What did you mean when you said we were mates?"

I sighed. "It means you and I might be the rarest thing the vampire world has seen in 750 years." I turned to her. She probably needed to know more than that if I was going to break the bond. "We're bonded by-" I turned to look at her just as a car rammed into the side of her door. "Shit-" I gasped as we flew to the right. The car barreling across the highway. The crash of metal and the shatter of glass was the last thing I heard before Y/n screamed and then there was nothing...

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Sorry not sorry for the cliffhanger! >:) I wanted to give some perspective for why they're so weird with each other. So I thought Damon could tell his side of the story, pretty well. And its Damon, come on! What else would you be here for?

And who's The Maker???? Read to find out...

Requests are open! Comment and rebolg to let me know what you think!

Masterlist

[love-from-anie]

[theprenderelliepalace]

So a guy knocks on my door and says he's 'actual good ideas to write about,' but my couches name is procrastination and I think couches were a great idea.

Let's give the inventor of the couch a round of applause people 👏