I was wondering, what if Harry and Hermione had met before Hogwarts?
The first time Harry Potter met Hermione Granger, she was standing with her chin up and her hands on her hips a few paces from the old olive tree in the schoolyard, glaring into the far distance. The wind was trying to twist and buffet her hair into her face, but mostly it was just tangling cheerfully with itself.
Dudley and Piers were busy kicking all the other kids off the play structure, so Harry had retreated out into the grass. He stood a safe distance from the weird girl who was pretending to be a statue and thought wistfully of lunch.
“There’s a fallen bird’s nest,” the girl said in a rapid and certain tumble of syllables. “The boys knocked it out of the tree, but I chased them off and I’m hoping the mama bird comes back. I’m Hermione Granger. We just moved here.”
“Harry,” he said.
“How’d you get that scar?” she said.
“That’s a weird scar for a car accident.”
Harry shrugged. “It killed my parents.”
She blinked quickly at him and even at that distance he wished vaguely that she wore glasses, too, because her gaze was something that really felt like it should have some built-in bluntedness. “Mine are dentists. Mum’s taking me to the library after school, want to come?”
Before they went into Diagon Alley, Harry asked Hagrid if they could find a payphone. Hermione picked up on the first ring.
“Harry! Where have you been? I’ve been trying and trying to call–”
“Sorry, yeah. Um, so, I’m not coming back to school next year, I…” Harry drifted off, staring at Hagrid’s massive moleskin shoulders. The giant man saw him looking and gave him a tentatively cheerful little wave. “It’s been weird, Herm.” He pressed his forehead into the phone stand, but not too hard. “I think you’re the only thing I’m really going to miss.”
“Harry,” Hermione said and Harry started to frown, because that wasn’t her stern and startled voice. That was the voice that meant she was off down a charging war path of other thought and might not have heard him at all. “I’ve been reading.”
“Of course you’ve been reading,” he said. “I’ve been being forcibly hidden from a swarm of post office owls–”
“You’re in books,” she said in breathless delight, squeaking over the telephone line. “First thing we did, of course, after the professor explained, was get her to escort us to a bookstore– a whole bibliography, Harry, a whole world’s bibliography I haven’t even touched– how am I ever going to–” She took in a little calming breath, and murmured, “Different infinities, it’s okay, Hermione, okay.” A sharp exhale and then she tumbled right back into her rushing rivelet of a sentence. “And I picked up a good dozen, besides the school books, of course, and Harry, you’re in books, in Dark Wizardwork of This Century and A Modern Wizards’ History and October’s End: A Biography–”
“Hermione,” said Harry with slow enunciation. “Are you a wizard, too?”
“A witch, I think,” she said. “But I’m still reading up on the sociology of it all.”
Hagrid wouldn’t say Voldemort’s name, but Hermione would. She came over with a stack of books up to her chin, gave the Dursleys her normal pointed little stare that said she’d like to set them a little on fire, and curled up in his cupboard with him.
He supposed she probably could learn how to set them on fire, now, if she really wanted to.
She gave him passages and excerpts with his name in them, with his parents’ names, a home he hadn’t known. There were pictures of a ruined house with the smoke drifting in little curls of ink. There was his mother, smiling and waving in black and white. There was his mother, laid out on the floor, with a sober little caption below it. That picture was still, except for curtains fluttering in the window.
Hermione finally dragged her face far enough up from the pages to see Harry holding his own hand very tightly, and then she closed the book and reached for one about which magical creatures you should pet and which you shouldn’t.
“Sorry,” she said.
“I wanted to know.”
“I’m still sorry.”
The Grangers drove Harry, Hermione, Hedwig, and their trunks to King’s Cross Station. Mrs. Granger kissed the top of Hermione’s head while Mr. Granger mussed Harry’s mop of dark hair affectionately, and then they swapped children and repeated the treatment. Hermione pushed her hair back out of her face and marched them all to Platform 9 ¾, the entrance mechanism of which she had read all about.
“Before you go,” Mrs. Granger said, “let’s buy you some sandwiches? I don’t know what sort of food they’ll have past that–”
“There’s a trolley,” Hermione said, but her parents dragged them off to a snack kiosk anyway, Harry happily in tow.
As they were on Hermione’s tight schedule, there were plenty of compartments open, and they took one all to themselves– well, to themselves, Hedwig, and Hermione’s books, which took up two seats. (Harry would wheedle Hagrid into taking him to Diagon Alley for Christmas shopping that year, where he would get Hermione a carry-all bag for her small personal library.)
Hermione took a long preparatory breath while Harry unwrapped his sandwich. “Harry? What if I go and sit down under the Hat and I just sit and sit there, and then it says I’m not a witch at all?” Hermione said, the words getting more squashed together and higher-pitched as she went. “I’m not magic, it just got confused, and they send me home? Harry, I don’t want to be a dentist. Other people’s mouths are disgusting–”
“You’re not going to get kicked out,” Harry said, chewing amiably on his sandwich. It was not good, but the Dursleys hadn’t bothered with any breakfast for him and he hadn’t wanted to bother the Grangers about it either. It was a bit dry on the way down, but it settled warmly in his belly.
“But what if I do?”
“I’ll stage a protest,” said Harry. “Refuse to do my homework til they reinstate you.”
“You’re not going to do your homework anyway.”
“See how dedicated I am to you.”
She made a dismissive little noise at him, wringing her hands in her lap.
“Hermione,” he said, and she lifted her bush of hair to look at him. “You’re the most magical person I know. It’s gonna be alright.”
She gave a long slow blink but whatever she might have said was interrupted by an uneven knock at the door. “Um,” said the pudgy boy standing there. “I’ve lost my toad.”
Hermione leapt to her feet. “Where did you see him last?”
Harry followed in the wake of her forward charge, but he brought the rest of his sandwich with him.
(Harry did not know this and would not know this until Mrs. Granger mentioned it casually over a Christmas dinner years and years later– but she and Mr. Granger reported the Dursleys for child abuse and neglect, over and over.
The reports got lost– minds scrubbed down, papers vanished– but they kept calling in reports. They considered kidnapping. They couldn’t imagine why the wizarding world might want to keep their chosen one somewhere so toxic, why they might want to keep this underfed child and his messy hair with those people.
“My mother left me a blood protection spell,” said Harry, whose scar had not ached in years. He poked at his mashed potatoes under the focused attention of Mrs. Granger’s stern little forehead wrinkle. “I had to live with family, blood family.”
“Then they should have made them treat you right,” Mrs. Granger said, as though it was that simple.
Mr. Granger gave Harry another helping of peas.)
On the steps of Hogwarts, Draco Malfoy thrust out his hand to the Boy Who Lived, who surveyed the open palm with amusement. “Thanks,” said Harry. “But I think I can tell the wrong sort for myself.”
The redheaded, freckly, hand-me-down clothes boy Malfoy had been bothering snorted. Harry slipped his hands into his pockets.
“You’re the kid with the rat from the train,” Hermione said. “And the spell that didn’t work.”
“It was a cool rhyme anyway, though,” Harry said. “Hi, I’m Harry, this is Hermione.”
“Yeah, she said, then. I’m Ron– uh, Ron Weasley.”
“Yeah, he said,” Harry said, rolling his eyes Malfoy’s direction. “Come on, you wanna stand with us? Hermione will tell you about the ceiling.”
“It’s enchanted!” said Hermione.
When Hermione founded SPHEW, Harry was not surprised. He had spent too many schoolyard days escorting spiders to safe spaces, keeping vigil over fallen bird’s nests, and watching Hermione stand up on her desk chair in heated pitched verbal battles with teachers. She’d driven at least two teachers to tears and taught most of them at least a few new vocabulary words.
Over summers and holidays, Harry and Hermione took Ron to the movies, to the seashore, to Hermione’s top three favorite libraries. Hermione’s Aunt Meg taught them how to whittle under a cloud of cigarette smoke that clung to Harry’s hair until he washed it out.
In this life, there were things in the Muggle world that Harry missed, that he wanted to see again. He loved Hogwarts, and he nominally went home to the Dursleys each summer, but he knew he always had a bed at the Grangers’. He knew the weird system they used to organize the books on their shelves. He’d pass Mrs. Granger the marmalade in mornings before she had to ask. He got free dental check-ups all his life, which was good because the Dursleys rarely bothered taking him into the dentist.
The whole Granger family tore apart newspapers every morning, calling article excerpts across the table and pointing each other to their favorite journalists. Before Hermione even first stepped onto Hogwarts grounds she got a subscription to the Daily Prophet. During Harry’s fourth year, Mr. and Mrs. Granger got Arthur Weasley to buy them an owl and then began an unending campaign of furious letters to the editor that never got published.
In a crumbling boat shed, Severus Snape died, but first he pressed a shining bundle of memory into Harry’s hands.
The fight was still going– Neville newly broad and certain; Luna whipping out quiet, barbed little curses; Ginny charging like an army in and of herself. Hermione had her arms full of basilisk fangs. Ron was moving people like bishops and knights. But Harry had a long damp walk before him, so he had time to wade through that life not his own.
Severus had been a lot of things– one of them was in love. Harry dragged his feet through forest mulch, seeing a little redheaded girl in sunlight, hands not his own offering her transformed flowers. It had been just them for so long. For Severus, for so long, there had been no one but him and Lily.
Even in Hogwarts, Severus had drifted through the classrooms and common room and library. He had believed in magic, in the cool slide of good knives through dried roots, and in Lily– always, always in Lily– Lily in sunlight, Lily chewing on her thumbnail over Transfiguration homework, Lily flicking soapsuds at him in her kitchen at home over summer, Lily pig-tailed and seven, wide-eyed as he showed her the first magic she’d ever seen, a leaf to a flower, a bit of sunlight to a bit of fire.
He had loved, and it had been a real thing. He had fucked up, and it had been a real thing, that heartbreak, that regret.
When Harry turned the Stone in his hand and saw his mother step into pseudo-life in that forest clearing, he thought I wish I’d known you. He thought about how she was in sepia and gray, here, just like in the pictures in the pages of Hermione’s books.
But he was also thinking about Severus. He was remembering Lily in sunlight, remembering her walking away, remembering her in that same cold photographed sprawl but in color–in grief–in bruised knees and heaving gasps.
Severus had been the first to find Lily’s body and it had felt like someone had cut the sunlight out of him. Harry was living through that grief, but he was also living through the wail of the child crying unacknowledged. His tiny pudgy hands were wrapped around the guardrail of his crib.
Harry was thinking about a girl standing in a field like a statue, hands on hips. He was thinking about Hermione’s raised hand ignored in Potions, or the way Snape had sneered that he didn’t see a difference in her cursed teeth. Love had made him brave, perhaps. It had killed him, but it had not made Severus good.
Harry wondered if his mother would have escorted spiders to safe places, if she would have stood guard over fallen bird’s nests, if she had worried herself to pieces that first time on the Hogwarts Express about the Hat telling her she didn’t really belong.
“I wish I’d known you,” he told the specter of Lily Potter. He held his own hands tight.
For Harry, for so long, there had been no one but him and Hermione. Even in Hogwarts, there were things only she would understand– parking meters, the cobweb ceiling of his cupboard, the silence of marmalade at breakfast. Harry believed in magic and he believed Hermione Granger was the most magical thing he knew.
“They’ll be alright,” he said. “I’ll be alright. I was alright, mum. I wish I’d known you– but I wasn’t alone.” He squeezed his hands tighter– Hermione showing him her favorite spots in her favorite libraries; Ron shyly showing them the Burrow like it was anything less than a magnificent masterpiece of warm rooms and patchwork architecture; Hermione standing in the field like a statue, bushy-haired and seven years old, jaw set. “She wasn’t alone, either,” he said. “And she’ll be alright. Ron will be alright. I have to do this, don’t I?”
“We are so proud of you,” Lily said.
“Thanks,” said Harry. “Sorry,” said Harry, and wondered if Hermione was going to be able to read the little passages and excerpts with his name in them, with those un-moving pictures and the sober captions underneath.
He dropped the Stone.
When Harry Potter died for the first time, crumpled in forest mulch, he didn’t go to a squeaky clean King’s Cross Station. There were no crescent moon glasses to twinkle kindly at him.
He stood under an old olive tree and a little girl looked up at him with those eyes that needed shielding, needed blunting, needed a manufacturer’s warning. “A wind’s coming,” she said. “You can just go. It will be easy.”
He stood outside Diagon Alley, a Muggle payphone tucked between his shoulder and ear. “You’re in books,” she said, with a breathlessness he’d barely heard for years. There had been too much weight on his shoulders, on hers. “You’re done,” she said. “You’ve done enough. Go on, tap three bricks up and two to the left.”
He stood in Godric’s Hollow, in the snow, holding her hand, looking at the ruined house. “You should have had this,” she said. She was seven and small, not nineteen and weary like she had been in life. The sky was overcast but there was sunlight glinting in her hair. “You can still have this. You can have everything.”
“You’re not real,” Harry said.
“But you are,” she said. “There’s a wind coming. It will be easy.”
“You’ve never done anything easy in your life,” he said.
She took both his hands– hers were so small against his grown fingers, his broad palms, and how had they done everything with hands that small? Basilisks and werewolves; shouting down teachers from atop desk chairs.
Harry was sitting in his cupboard in the light of its single bulb and he was too big for this space, his shoulders curling forward, his head bowing. She was standing there with sunlight still in her hair and her arms piled high with books. “You don’t belong here,” she said. “It will hurt. You won’t fit, if you go back. Everything can be easy. Everything can be fine. It doesn’t have to hurt, ever again.”
“Hermione,” he said and leaned forward, put his hands on her hands where they were gripping her books. “It’ll be alright.” He smiled and she was staring at him with those eyes, those goddamn eyes. “We never fit, remember?”
“We tried,” she said and Harry squeezed her small hands gently.
“Send me back,” he said. “I want to go home.”
After the battle, as Hogwarts rang with frantic healing, crushing grief, and raging celebration, the three of them retreated to the library. Hermione hauled them down narrow aisles until she found her favorite tucked-away nook and they all collapsed on sagging sofas that seemed to not have been touched at all by the war.
“Well,” said Hermione. “What now?”
Ron let his head flop back against the seat, hair tumbling all over his pale forehead. “I’m going to nap,” he said. “For a month.”
“That’s not physiologically possible,” said Hermione. “Or if it is, then it’d be a coma.”
“It’s a metaphor,” Ron said, then: “no, wait, a hyperbole.” Hermione beamed at him. He blushed a little and elbowed her gently.
“After this, you’ll be in books, you know,” Harry told her.
“Not– I mean–” Hermione rubbed at her nose furiously. Ron laughed enough to wake up and sit up, throwing an arm around her shoulders.
While Ron came up with outlandish titles for Hermione’s eventual many biographies, Harry pulled his feet up onto the sofa. He watched the candles float quietly between the shelves.
based on the prompt,
“best friend’s sibling au” → drabbles
pairing: kim taehyung | reader genre: fluff, light smut warnings:
word count: 20,453 description: there’s some unresolved history involving your best friend’s brother… but hey, maybe some rules are meant to be broken. author’s note:i get inspired by the oddest little tidbits, and i swear the word count was supposed to be half the amount you see up there. also, say hello to the longest one-shot i’ve done so far.
You have one of the greatest fortunes to be acquainted with the Kims in your first year of primary education, and perhaps it’s what has led you to one of your greatest downfalls (but we’ll get into that later on).
If you had told Dex even a week ago that he would willingly be sharing a blanket with Derek Nurse on the floor of the Haus living room all afternoon, pressed together so close they’re practically in each other’s laps, he would’ve laughed in your face.
Now, he just bangs a fist against the side of the old space heater in front of them and subtly pulls Nursey a little closer into his side. Not that there’s all that much closer to pull him.
“I told them,” he mutters. “Draft fucking central.”
He not so much sees as senses Nursey roll his eyes. “Rans and Holtzy not letting you replace all the windowpanes last year is not why the heating went out, yo.”
Intellectually, Dex know this. But it’s easier to blame their former captains for their current predicament than it is to blame the fact that he’s let routine Haus maintenance slide so much this semester that they’ve ended up here. Because if Dex doesn’t keep a close eye on things like the barely functioning water heater, or the garbage disposal that’s missing two blades and is about to fall out of the sink entirely, who will?
Except, well, he’s been distracted this year. From the moment he got back from summer break and moved into the attic with Nursey, he’s been… distracted.
Pairing : Taehyung x Reader Genre : Fluff, smut, Hybrid!au Word count : 3429 K Warning : smut, demeaning names
“Yeah, that one is famous. Have fun with it.“
Taehyung seemed distracted with some coloring book you brought for him as he halfway nodded without a look at your direction. Lazily lying down on his side, the rug of the living room under him. His palm holding his head as one hand was mindfully coloring the drawing. His features were adorning a bored expression but you still assumed he was focused on what he was doing. The soft dim light of the lamp was bathing his face in an ethereal golden glow. With a smirk, you could not help but state, humming a little behind the counter.
“It seems you love that one.”
A teasing smile made its way to your lips as you took a deep breath, your hands busy with putting away the cutlery from the dishwasher. It was a nice cozy and quiet Friday evening among others. Your heart warmed up by the sole fact your dog hybrid ate all the food you prepared for him as your warm glance laid upon him. He was peering into your eyes from behind his long enthralling lashes, deep voice echoing around the living room.
“Yeah, I think these coloring books are fun. Truly, they are work of art, in a way.”
You cocked one brow at him as you put one clean plate on the counter, making your way to your dog busy with the coloring book you bought from the store on your way home the day before. A frown made its way to the silver-haired hybrid’s tan face as his contemplative eyes crossed yours.
“I guess that…”
The hybrid ended up his sentence in a whisper, his eyes flickering back to the page he was before busy coloring. He seemed absorbed by the coloring book as his hand roamed over the many color pencils. After all, you were best to know art bathed in his precise and creative being.
“Well, what do you mean by “famous?” These are strange looking characters. I mean…You don’t see people dressed like this everyday. Are they from the TV shows you talk about so much? Because if yes, I really wanna check that show. Their world must be truly interesting.”
i want to take my ship of a body and slip off somewhere. we’ll live in places where the water is on fire. we’ll grow a house by planting ourselves. i miss you in the mornings. kissing you always feels like i’m leaving the earth. i’m saying islands can be two people if you just close the curtains. and i’m in the mood for a journey.
summary: spencer has a thing for you, a thing that often leaves him sexually frustrated. he takes matters into his own hands (literally).
warnings: pure fuckin smut y'all, masturbation, lots of swearing, etc.
a/n: TODAY IS MY 18th BIRTHDAY AND THIS IS HOW I’M CELEBRATING, BY POSTING MY FIRST SMUT. this is for mish( @spencerdamnreid)‘s challenge. my prompt was “oops you caught me masturbating, how bout we have sex instead?”. this can have a part 2 if y'all so desire. is this terrible? idk I wrote it in the middle of the night so let me know what you think.
Summary: You hate a lot of things about Jeon Jungkook; you hate his arrogance, his reputation, and his pet name for you to name a few. But most of all, you hate how right it feels for you to fall into his arms, and how easy it is to fall for him. Word Count: 13,742 Genre: fuckboy!Jungkook, college au, sprinkling of feelings A/N: I feel like I’m sending my child to their first day of kindergarten oh my goodness. I hope you guys enjoy the last part!!
There was no way you were in love with Jeon Jungkook, absolutely no way in hell you had feelings for him that ran any deeper than discontent. It had been the moment, the conversation with Jungkook, the awe you’d felt when he showed you his forest. You had gotten caught up in that moment, and your mind had tricked itself into thinking you liked Jungkook.
Hey everyone!! This is the first fic I’m posting here! I hope you all enjoy it. Please like and reblog if you liked it, and if you loved it, leave a comment! (Shameless self-promo- I also write fics for musicals on my other blog @hamiltontrashaccount, check em out) Also, thank you to @friendly-letters! She was the one who came up with this idea, and she was nice enough to let me write this! Shout out to her! Hope you like it :))
You woke up one minute before your alarm went off, you groan in your bed but manage to drag yourself off of your dorm bed. Like every other morning, you forget how high it is and ended up sprawled on the floor. You take a thirty-second nap on the floor, using your boots as a pillow before reminding yourself that you had to take a shower before everyone started filling up the bathrooms.
You grab your shower caddy and put on your slippers. The hallway was dimly lit, only one light bulb in the center was lit, and even that source of light was flickering, threatening to waste away anytime now. You turn the corner and open the double doors, all of the showers were separated by a brick wall and the only thing shielding you was a frail little curtain that could be ripped away in no time. You were terrified that one day someone would accidentally open the curtains and see you naked. That’s why you always chose to wake up an hour earlier than everyone else and take the shower in the far corner of the big room.
You rub your eyes and open the curtain. Pressed up against the cool brick wall is a petite girl with blonde wet hair, half of her face was hidden by a broad shoulder. Your eyes widen when you see a couple half naked kissing in the corner. It’s until you see the familiar set of dark eyes when you regain control of your body.
“Can’t you knock?” The blonde girl hisses.
“On the curtain?” You snap back, irritated. Jungkook closes the curtain in your face.
Request: Can you do an imagine where Peter and the reader (who he is dating) are sparing, and after they change out of their suits, Peter notices bruises on the reader and freaks out that he went to hard on them, only to find out that they are actually training a lot more than he originally thought. Maybe the reader has powers too? (I really love your stories! Keep up the awesome work!)
“Watch yourself, Parker. I don’t want to hurt you,”
“Oh don’t worry about me, Y/N,”
You and Peter were at the Avengers compound, training (Per Tony’s request). You had been training a lot more recently, Tony insisted that the two of you, being the youngest and most inexperienced Avengers, needed to practice sparing, especially in your suits.
Peter was in his Spidey suit, while you wore one similar to Natasha’s. Although, you were more than a trained assassin, you had powers as well. While your powers were somewhat similar to Wanda’s, you had them better under control. Some of the other Avengers often called you “mini Wanda” or “Mini Natasha”.
You enjoyed sparing with your boyfriend, Peter. You were both very strong, the only downside is that Peter was faster.
It was the third time this week that you and Peter were sparring. He always insisted on doing it almost everyday, knowing it would please Tony.
“Need a break, Y/N?” Peter asked.
“Oh please, are you sure it’s not you that needs the break?”
Peter threw a punch that you dodged. You quickly kicked up your leg and hit his side.
“Nice hit, Y/N”
You ignored Peter’s comment and swung your arm towards him. Peter grabbed your wrist and twisted your arm around, flipping you over so you landed on your back.
“C'mon, Y/N, let’s keep going,”
“Just give me a minute,” you breathed.
You had your hand pressed tight against your ribs. The sparing had really been taking a toll on you physically. Having a mission every once and a while wasn’t all that bad, but fighting Peter every day has left you quite sore and bruised.
“Did I hurt you?” Peter asked, worryingly.
He offered you his hand to help you up. You accepted his offer and struggled to get up while keeping pressure on your ribs.
“I think I’m done for the day,”
“I’m sorry if I hurt you, Y/N. You know I’d never do it on purpose, right?”
“I know, Pete. Let’s just clean up and get outta here,”
Peter started to put all the equipment away while you caught your breath.
“Do you want me to help you up to your room?” Peter offered.
“No, I’ll be fine,”
You both started heading out of the gym, towards the elevator. You winced with every step you took. Your lungs felt compressed, you were afraid you would roll on your ankle with every step you took. You clenched your teeth and tried to hold in the pain, not wanting Peter to know how much he had hurt you from the past few weeks of sparing.
Peter worryingly walked beside you, carefully watching you.
You were both silent on the elevator trip up to your floor.
“Do you need anything, Y/N?” Peter asked, walking you to your bedroom door.
“Actually, could you get me some ice for my ribs? They’re slightly aching,”
“Of course,” Peter placed a quick kiss on your lips and ran off down the hall.
You slowly made your way into your room. You were tempted to just lay down on your bed and stay there, but you stunk like sweat and could really use a hot shower.
You managed to pull your pants off no problem, but the intricate design of the top is where you knew you were going to struggle.
After a few moments, you managed to get off the jacket and shirt underneath “fuck you and your designs, Stark,”
You stood in the centre of your room in only your sports bra and underwear when the door opened.
“Y/N, I have ice,”
Peter closed the door behind him, and turned towards you. He froze when he saw you.
“Oh my god,” he said quietly.
You looked up at Peter. He had a solemn look on his face.
You looked down at yourself and your body was covered in bruises and cuts. There were purple and yellow marks all over your body.
Peter walked closer to you. He dropped the bag of ice on the floor and placed a hand gently on your waist, while he traced his other hand along your stomach over your bruises. You winced when his fingers touched your ribs.
“Did I do this to you?” He whispered.
You bit your lip, but didn’t answer.
“Oh my god, Y/N, I’m so sorry,”
“It’s okay, Peter. I’ve had worse,”
“Y/N, you’re covered in bruises. I can’t believe I hurt you like this,”
You lightly pressed a hand against the side of his face, “Peter, I’m okay, really,”
“No, Y/N, you can barely walk,”
“But I can still walk. I’ll heal soon, my dear. But maybe we can cut down on these sparring sessions,” you said
Peter nodded. You continued to stand there with Peter. His fingers lightly hovering over your bruises.
“I’m so sorry, baby,”
Peter leaned down and placed a kiss on your lips. You moved your lips against his, wrapping one arm around the back of his neck.
Peter’s grip on your waist tightened and you flinched from the pain.
Peter let go of you. You could tell he was in just as much pain as you were. He was so upset he had hurt you as much as he had.
“Hey Parker, do you think you could help me with something?” You asked
“I could definitely use a hot shower, and by the smell of things, so could you,”
Peter gave you a small smile.
“Would it help if I carried you to your bathroom?”
“No, no it’s fine. I’ll walk,”
Peter walked slowly beside you as you hobbled over to the bathroom. Peter closed the door behind you.
You tried to pull your bra off over your head, Peter stopped you and lifted it over your head.
“Thanks Parker but I think if you’re going to help me you might need to take that Spidey suit off,”
“Mm why don’t we finish you off first, darling,” Peter said.
He slowly bent down, placing light kisses down your stomach Until he reached your underwear.
Peter slipped his fingers in the side of your underwear and pulled your underwear down. You stepped out of the pair and moved to the side while Peter stood up and pressed the centre of his suit.
He let the suit fall off his body and then stripped off his underwear.
“You have bruises everywhere too Parker,”
“Yeah, but I can still walk. And I have much fewer bruises,”
“Which really makes no sense, since I’ve gotten many more hits in than you,” You said
Peter rolled his eyes and moved past you to turn on the water.
“Let me help you in,”
You took Peter’s hand and he helped you step over into the tub. Peter stepped in behind you and closed the curtain.
You stepped forward and let the water cascade down your body. Peter came up behind you and pressed his chest against your back. He wrapped his arms around you.
Peter pressed a kiss against the back of your neck
“I’m really sorry I hurt you, Y/N,”
“You really need to stop apologizing,”
“From now on we’re not sparing as often,”
Peter pressed another light kiss against your neck, “I love you Y/N,”
@joeynihil: Scott smut where the reader is a alpha from another pack and the way she’s always challenging him get’s him all turned on. And then one day when they meet alone.. BAM!
You had traveled from far away with your pack because your old childhood friend Malia had called you, so here you were, in Beacon Hills, right in front of a house whose direction Malia gave you.
You knocked the door several times before a boy with dark black hair and sweet smile opened the door “You most be Scott” you beamed and he nodded
“How did you knew?” he asked curiously, the smile still plastered on his face, you bit your lip seductively smiling as you took a step closer “You seem like someone who knows how make someone bend… If you know what I mean” you whispered in his ear before going inside the house leaving a flustered Scott behind you, you heard the door close behind you, Scott appeared again, he opened his mouth, but before he could say something, you heard the sound of people going down the stairs.
Several people filled the room, but you only recognized Malia, who you gave a little smile “Hello Malia” you greeted her and she smiled back, then you eyed the rest of the pack “For those of you who don’t know, I’m Y/N, alpha of a well known pack of New Orleans” you said flashing your beautiful red eyes for a moment “I’m here because Malia requested my help, if you have any trouble with my presence you may say it now” you stated as you stood silent for a moment, when no one spoke you nodded slightly.
“Then I guess it’s set, I’ll bring my pack to meet you all tomorrow, and I think I speak for us all when I say we’re looking forward to work with you” with that being said you winked at Scott before leaving.
After several reunions with both packs you decided that you needed more information about The Dread Doctors and with some research you found out there was another book of the Dread Doctors in the school library known as “The Lost File” but only you and Scott had believable excuses to leave the classroom in order to get the book. So you met in the hallway between both classes and sneaked to the library’s back door so you couldn’t be seen.
Ones you got there you spotted a few students and the old librarian, you walked calmly towards the section of science fiction-Scott by your side-you ran your fingers across each and every title, Scott did the same.
You had to search very carefully before finding the right book and when you did, you sneaked out as silently as you could, when you did you walked in the lonely hallways until you heard loud footsteps and the reeking scent of the Coach-which consisted in a mixture of beer and sadness-Scott and you exchanged a worried look as the footsteps came closer.
Without thinking you kissed him, laying your hands on his shoulders-because you still held the book in your hand-his soft lips moved in sync with yours as he licked your bottom lip slightly asking for entrance which you granted opening your mouth and letting his tongue play along with yours.
His hands went down to your hips tracing your skin, when his hands were placed on your hips he gave them a gentle squeeze, you let go of the book, letting it fall to the floor as you sighed in his mouth, you grabbed his arms, tracing their length until you reached his hands, which you placed slowly on your butt.
“Stupid kids and their hormones” you heard Coach’s grumpy voice as he walked right past by you
Ones you were sure Coach had left you pulled apart from Scott’s swollen lips tinted slightly with your lipstick, you took a deep breath as you bend down to grab the book and put it on your bag, when you smelled the arousal coming from Scott you smiled mischievously “Don’t think I didn’t felt your friend” you said turning to go back to your classroom, but a firm grip stopped you from doing so.
Scott looked into your eyes before pulling you into his embrace, locking your lips in his with an incredible force, and this time Scott himself, held your butt giving it a firm squeeze making you moan in his mouth as you ran your fingers across his hair “Not… here” you said between the kisses and he groaned pulling apart and taking you to an abandoned classroom, you closed the door and pulled the curtain down.
Scott gave you butterfly kisses as he roamed his hands from your breast to your thighs, you turned around kissing him as he pulled you up by your thighs, guiding you to the desk in which he sat you down as he left numerous hickeys on your neck that healed right away.
He placed his hands on your back ripping your shirt off, you gasped at the feeling of the cold air against your heated skin, the cloth falling to the floor as you tugged the hem of Scott’s shirt pulling it up, your claws leaving holes in the thin cloth.
He unclasped your bra throwing in across the room, then he laid you down on the large desk to unbutton your jeans, pulling them down to your knees along with your panties, you kicked them off with your toes and sitting up kissing his neck hungrily, but then Scott pushed you down to the desk.
The pain ran across your spine, nevertheless you smiled
“Someone likes to play rough” you hissed and he smiled back
“This is what it takes to make you bend” he purred going down to were you needed him the most, wet kisses ran across your thighs as he massaged your breasts, you became a moaning mess under his ministrations.
Then, and without a warning he started devouring your core holding you still as you squirmed around in pleasure, your fingers tangled in his dark locks, at your gesture he groaned into your core, making the nod in your stomach grew by the second.
And as you felt yourself coming over the edge, he pulled apart, a whimper left your lips as a sign of the lost of ministrations “Scott” you called his name in an exhalation, sitting up and helping him take off his boxers “Please, I need you” you whispered in his ear, feeling his smirk against your ear, he pulled you at the edge of the desk, your breast crashing against his firm and toned chest, feeling his boner placed on your entrance, unconsciously you began to clench around his tip, your core aching in need.
He pressed your legs around hips before entering you fully, both of you moaning at the feeling, without giving you time to adjust he rammed into you with an incredible force, your claws scratching the wood of the desk as you moaned louder and louder each time
“Say my name” Scott groaned as you kept moaning, unable to answer his command “Say my name so everyone knows your mine” he repeated and you had to breath before replying
“Scott” in his ear
“Louder” he hissed laying you down before going all the way in, making you gasp at the feeling, your claws now buried themselves into Scott’s flesh
“SCOTT” you gasped, your eyes flashing red for a moment before going back to normal as he continued to fucking you mercilessly, his name came out like a prayer in your lips as he began to whisper dirty things on your ear.
You realized how close you were when the nod on your stomach seemed to travel to your core as well “Scott I’m…” you trailed off before being interrupted by your loud moan, your release washing you over, Scott did the same moments after
Both of you panting loudly as you tried to catch your breaths “We should get dressed” you whispered in his ear making him chuckle “We should” he agreed pulling you up “That way I can take you on a proper date” he beamed kissing you sweetly and you couldn’t help to smile into the kiss
“That sounds amazing” you winked clasping your bra and grabbing your ripped shirt, raising an eyebrow playfully towards Scott who blushed slightly scratching the back of his neck.
“Yeah… Sorry about that” he said nervously and you giggled at how cute he looked, you climbed off the desk, grabbing your bag and pulling out a brand new shirt, Scott frowned smiling and you shrugged putting it on.
“A girl needs to be prepared” you said simply as you finally bottomed your jeans to leave the classroom, leaving a dumbfounded Scott behind you.
What are you about to read: A very small piece where Y/N really adores Harry’s pink suit from Today Show
Requests closed bc finals!
“Y/N?” She turned her head immediately and looked at the man who was calling her name.
Y/N wasn’t expecting someone to come look for her since she let them -including Harry- know that she was going to the bathroom.
She even spent twenty minutes trying to find the stalls in front of the luxurious building that the Today Show was taking place.
She put off the cigarette quickly and wished that he wouldn’t question her.
“Oh, Jeff. You scared me,”
Jeff gave her a small smile and took a step towards her, now making it easy for Y/N to smell his expensive perfume.
“Sorry about that, Harry’s live in ten. He kept asking for you so I thought I’d look for you.” He spoke softly, breaking their eye contact for a moment to glance at the fag on the floor.
“Yeah, sorry. Was just getting some air.”
“He won’t be too happy you know, about the smoking.” Jeff started again, now they were headed to the room where Harry was waiting, along with other people.
It wasn’t her fault that she was addicted to smoking.
It wasn’t her fault that she kept craving a cigarette when someone smoked near her.
She started smoking at seventeen, stopped for only a year while she was with Harry but she couldn’t stop smoking once or twice, here and there when she got too anxious or nervous.
When they arrived to the large room where Harry’s clothes were spread, Y/N'e eye caught a certain tall guy, a bottle of water on his hand, making a conversation with an old man.
When Jeff left to answer his phone, Y/N made her way to Harry, lusting over his pink suit. She was a sucker for Harry in pink -also a sucker for Harry in nothing- and she could help the tingling sensation between her legs while looking at Harry in his pretty suit.
“Are yeh eyeing me love?” Harry whispered, kissing the shell of her ear making her more fidgety.
He knew what he was doing and Y/N was damn sure he didn’t care on bit.
She gave him a smile and wrapped her arms around her waist, careful not to wrinkle the outfit too much.
“You ready to rock this place,” she said, her fingers caressing his waist slowly and looking at his lips while he smiled down at her.
He looked extra handsome today, Y/N thought.
His face was totally glowing, the smile on his cherry-pink lips reaching his emerald eyes and making the dimple -oh God, that dimple- appear gracefully.
He had a stubble.
The thought of his stubble touching, bruising and destroying her thighs making her eyes teary.
“Hey buddy,” Dean says, scratching an old, missed blood spot from his knife. He looks at Cas. “Coming?”
Cas has been with them months, now. They’ve been taking larger cases. Bigger problems finding them. They’d bested the apocalypse. Faced God himself, and found themselves coming through it. And, as it turns out, the other side consists of Cas sleeping with a blade under his pillow, a gun under Dean’s and clothes Dean lets him borrow that never seem to be fully free of blood stains no matter how much they wash them.
“Coming?” Dean asks again. It’s the same question. Always. Cas has answered it a hundred times, and yet Dean finds himself saying the words the same way, still, like a ritual. Cas smiles. He knows his lines, too:
“Always,” Cas says, and Dean’s shoulders relax, if only a little. But there’s another part of him that feels betrayed. Like Cas would’ve done anything for Dean, even if he wasn’t happy.
The night ends in sweat and blood, bandaging each other. Dean can feel the way his eyes are lit with a glaze of adrenaline. He looks away when Cas catches it.
The bathroom is too small for three men as they get ready for bed, shouldering past each other while they brush their teeth. The room is too small, too. Three beds hard to come by. Some nights Dean finds himself on the hard floor. Sometimes it’s Cas or Sam.
Sleep is sparing, even less when Sam starts to snore.
Tonight Cas on the floor, Dean in the bed above, listening to the sound of Sammy to his left, Cas’s breaths on the floor next to him too shallow to be asleep. Dean swallows.
“Do you miss it?” he whispers.
“Heaven?” Cas asks, quietly. “No.”
Sam snores again, rolling to his side, the sounds getting smaller.
“I just mean. Are you happy here? Are we enough?” Dean gestures in the dark, even if he knows no one can see it. “Is this life enough for you?”
Cas sits up. He makes his way to the side of the bed, sitting on the edge of it. Even though it’s dark, Dean can see hesitation in his face.
“No,” he says, quietly.
Dean’s face falls. His chest hurts as he grips the blankets, sitting up.
“This life,” he says. “I know it’s not for everyone. It’s what I want, but you don’t have to want this. You don’t have to…” his voice cracks.
He swallows. He knows what he needs to say next, but it hurts. It’s painful trying to think of his life without half his wardrobe stolen, or the sight of Cas’s cheek smashed against the window through the rearview mirror while he drools in his sleep.
He blinks back tears, grateful it’s dark. He thinks of all the times he’s asked Cas if he’s coming, feeling his chest swell with the words “always.” He knows if he asks now, the answer would be the same. Which only makes it that much harder to say what he does next.
“You don’t have to stay.”
Hearing the words come from his own mouth makes his tears fall more freely now, and he suddenly thinks it’s not dark enough with the glare of the neon signs outside seeping through the thin curtains.
Then, there are hands, wiping away his cheeks. Cas crawls into bed next to him, wrapping his arms around Dean. It’s new and unexpected, but Cas is breaking a barrier between them as he grabs one of Dean’s hands, bringing it to his lips to just hold it there.
“I don’t want to leave you,” Cas says, when Dean is finally calm.
“There’s no white picket ending here for you,” Dean whispers, feeling his heart beat faster as he feels Cas’s warm breaths close. “You said it yourself, it’s not enough.”
Cas pulls Dean in closer, kissing him on the forehead.
“I don’t need a lot. But I do need you,” Cas says. And, suddenly, Dean understands.
“I’m in love with you,” Cas finishes.
He needs more, Dean acknowledges. And Dean finally realizes that he does, too.
“I love you, too,” he whispers back, leaning in and kissing Cas for the first time. It’s slow. Gentle. Melting away Dean’s fears as he realizes that maybe Cas can be happy here. With him.
When they pull away, Cas is smiling. His eyes bright.
“Ask me if you’re enough,” he whispers, pulling them closer together.
Dean smiles, too. It’s awkward, but he asks it quietly: “Is this enough for you, Cas? Am I enough?”
Cas pulls him in, kissing his forehead reverently.
This really has become more of an index than a rec list, with categories of:
Full length chaptered stories, Series, arcs, collections and short chaptered stories, Atmospheric, poetic, ficlets and drabbles, Pre-slash, Fluff, Established relationships, Flangst, Dark Angst, Humor, Holidays, Coming Out, Smut, Fix-Its/Re-Writes, and AUs
Last time I counted there were over 200 fics on here!
Basically my requirements for this list are:
Is it Cursed Child compliant, in the CC universe or do the characterizations feel close enough to CC?
No disturbing side-pairings or themes (i.e. no dub-con, abuse, drug use, infidelity or major character death. Exceptions will have warnings.)
Is it decently written, easy enough to understand and not cringe-worthy?
Did it make me smile or feel things?
Have I actually read it?
There are many stories, especially multi-chapters and WIPs, that I haven’t gotten around to yet, so this list is mostly made up of one-shots. It is my New Year’s resolution to read longer works. Feel free to add your recommendations in your reblog! Happy Holidays you wonderful little fandom!
Note: I have categorized these fairly loosely. Some fics may fit into more than one category, but I don’t list them twice unless they are individual parts of an arc. The first section is uncategorized. They are a few of my faves, though I definitely have favorites in other categories like atmospheric and fluff, however these ones seemed slightly more complex and are a bit longer. So consider this category…
“Still under the impression that you should have been the first to get a girlfriend eh? What can I say… Ladies love me.”
“Ladies tolerate you.”
‘One-Shot set in Albus and Scorpius’ sixth year at Hogwarts. When Rose doesn’t show up, Albus and Scorpius end up going on an accidental first date. Pure Scorpius and Albus fluff. Awkward conversations and a lot of strange situations’.
I love this so much. This author has seen the play and it shows. Her characterizations and dialogue are so spot on. So awkward, adorable and heartfelt!
‘A ball is being held at Hogwarts to celebrate the end of fifth and seventh year exams. Scorpius has agreed to go with Rose, and Albus shouldn’t be as upset about that as he is. Dancing, fancy robes, obliviousness, and a small sprinkling of brotherly advice ensue.’
This is so gorgeous. Just her description of the robes slayed me. Read everything by torestoreamends!
‘From the moment Scorpius and Albus get on the Hogwarts Express for their fifth year, things start to change. Albus starts to gain confidence both in the classroom and out of it, and Scorpius’ realization that he has greater feelings for his best friend threatens to leave him more alone than he’d ever imagined’.
Wonderful four chapter prequel to ‘Quietly’. Quietly is quite long and intense, but this is a nice getting together story, though it is still quite meaty and introduces important themes for the series.
‘Ginny Potter estimates it will only take three days into the Weasley-Potter family holiday for Albus to act on his feelings for his best friend. Albus estimates it will only take three days for him to die of embarrassment. And Scorpius, well. Scorpius is just glad to be there with Albus in the first place.’
I love this so much! The characters are so spot on and we get to see other Next Gen kids as well as all the grown up characters we love. Come for the Scorbus, stay for Ginny and the whole Weasley clan.
I’m writing this theory when I should be studying for my Anthropology class for tomorrow. I’m tired, it’s 00:37 am, and I have a full mug of coffee with hot chocolate in front of me. I would rather die than say that this was not worth it