Heya! I Just Wanna Say I'm In Love With Your Blog, You're An Amazing Writer And You're In All The Fandoms

Heya! I just wanna say I'm in love with your blog, you're an amazing writer and you're in all the fandoms I'm in, which basically makes your blog my paradise. You're immensely talented, keep writing like a pro! :)

Wow, thank you so, so much for your wonderfully kind words, I'm unable to find words to express my gratitude because there's just too much of it. Thank you again!

We are thrilled to announce an exciting new publishing programme from J.K. Rowling’s #WizardingWorld: pottermo.re/CCRSE  

The Yule Ball

Pairing: Fred Weasley x reader

Word Count: 1,266

Summary: Can I have a Fred Weasley one where we always fight (not dating) but we only fight because we secretly like each other and when it's the Yule Ball there is this guy who is new and he is a player and he asks me and at the Ball he is really touchy and I don't want it and Fred sees it and fights him and in the end with a lot of fluff and confessing our love.

Warnings: N/A

A/N: Request for @anyfandomimaginex I hope it’s what you wanted! ^_^

“You two! Could you please stop? You’re making too much noise and I’m trying to study over here. Some of us actually want to pass our exams with good grades,” you said in a whisper-shout, folding your arms on your chest and glaring at the offending red-headed boys who were standing in the library, looking up explosive spells and trying them out on small objects. Colourful smoke was drifting up from what had once been flowerpots and old quills and the table was dotted with ash of all colours. No other student was glaring at them because they were all very fond of the twin brothers but you, as a Prefect, felt the need to tell them off as the library was for studying and not experimenting around with strange spells.

One of the two brothers -Fred, you knew, because he was the only one of the two who ever fought with you- stepped forward and fixed you with a harsh glare. “Oh, it’s little miss Prefect again,” he said, rolling his eyes. He was about to say something else when George grabbed his forearm and gathered all their stuff. “Don’t bother, Fred. Let’s go continue at the Common Room,” he told his brother and hurried off. Fred cast one last look at you before following his brother outside. A part of you was disappointed at that, but you had never actually allowed yourself to admit that perhaps you didn’t really dislike him.

You sighed and decided to get back to studying but instead, you found yourself thinking about the Yule Ball the next week. You didn’t have a date for it, and you weren’t planning on getting one, though you and a couple of your girl friends from your house, who also didn’t have anyone to go with had decided to go for fun, not really expecting to be asked to dance with anybody. Still, it was a once in a lifetime opportunity and you weren’t going to miss it. That evening, after having mostly finished your homework for almost the whole week, you got up and headed to the Great Hall for dinner. On your way there though, a rather cute brown-haired boy wearing the blue Beauxbatons uniform stopped you. He looked rather confident in himself but his words, in perfectly good, if slightly accented English, were shy.

“Bonsoir, mademoiselle. You’re Y/n, right?” he asked you with a blinding grin on his face, though he was blushing a bit nervously. You nodded in response. “I’m Marc. I’m from Beauxbatons, as you can see. And I wanted to ask you... will you be my date for the Ball? I have seen you around, and I think you are very pretty and smart, and it would be my honour if you said yes,” he said. You found his slight French accent cute, and he was rather handsome as well.

Thinking yourself lucky, you smiled right back at him. “Of course, Marc! I’d love to,” you said and he beamed at you before bidding you a good night and hurrying off to dinner.

You spent the rest of the week talking with your friends about the Ball, laughing with them and smiling at Marc whenever you saw him walking around the corridors. All that kept you busy and, thankfully -or not, you weren’t sure- away from the Weasley brothers, and especially Fred.

The night of the Yule Ball you were excited. You felt particularly beautiful in your long blue dress and you were smiling as you descended the countless staircases and traversed the many corridors to reach the Great Hall, outside of which Marc was waiting, dressed in dark blue wizarding robes.

He offered his elbow at you and you hooked your arm through it, beaming up at him as you entered the Great Hall, which looked absolutely beautiful as it was adorned in winter decorations.

You didn’t have a lot of time to appreciate everything though, as you eventually felt a hand trailing up your arm, touching your shoulders. You turned around to see Marc there and you glared at him, shrugging his hand off. You thought that was a one-time-only thing but, eventually, you felt his hands on you again, this time touching your waist and stomach and arms, and you really didn’t like it. You made it obvious and you tried to push him away, but he wouldn’t budge.

“Hey, mate, don’t,” you heard a familiar voice say and both you and Marc turned to meet the glare of Fred Weasley. A glare, which, for once, wasn’t directed to you but instead to the French boy touching you. He looked quite intimidating but Marc didn’t move an inch.

“She’s my date,” he said with a shrug and you were about to retort that you were your own person and, given the opportunity to reach for your wand, you could hex him into the next century, but Fred spoke first.

“The fact that she’s your date doesn’t mean that you can do whatever you want to her! She’s a wonderful girl, intelligent and talented and amazing, and she’s not an object for you to touch against her will. So back off, before I make you,” he said, retrieving his wand from a pocket of his robes and pointing it squarely at the French boy’s chest. Marc seemed scared off and, when you elbowed him in the ribs, he hurried off, not looking back.

Fred immediately walked up to you and grabbed hold of your hands tenderly. “Are you all right? Did he hurt you or do anything bad to you?” he asked worriedly, his brown eyes locking with yours.

You found yourself unable to move away. “Yes. Yes, I’m fine. And no. No, he didn’t hurt me,” you mumbled, though you were still feeling a bit uneasy. He noticed that and worriedly chewed on his lower lip.

“Would you mind if I hugged you?” he asked tentatively and you nodded your assent at that. Gently, he put his arms around you and hugged you close to him. “That idiot will never touch you again. If you see him again you should curse him, hex him, do something!” he whispered in your ear.

You nodded. “Yes, I will. He just caught me off guard this time and I didn’t know how to react,” you explained. “But... why do you care so much? I thought you disliked me,” you added.

He pulled away from the hug and stopped chewing nervously on his lip. “I, uh... Well, no, I don’t dislike you. In fact, it’s quite the opposite. I like you -too much- and when I saw that bloody bastard -pardon my language- touching you like that, I saw red. I couldn’t not do that, I hope you understand,” Fred said. “It’s okay if you don’t feel the same way. I’m not expecting that, because I’m definitely not your type and-” You cut him off by grabbing hold of his shoulders and pulling him in for a kiss. It was short and chaste, but it was enough to shut him up.

“What?” he asked rather stupidly, and you giggled.

“I like you too,” you said with a silly grin on your face before leaning closer to him again and capturing his lips with yours in a kiss that was, this time, long and made butterflies flutter in your stomach.

When you pulled away to breathe, he grinned a beautiful smile at you and grabbed your hand, entwining his fingers with yours.

“What do you say we end the night on a high note? Let’s have some fun!”

Despair

Pairing: Gabriel x reader

Word Count: 1,235

Summary: The Apocalypse is approaching and Gabriel visits you. 

Warnings: Spoilers for season five, feels.

A/N: I’d planned on writing something cute, not this. Anyway, enjoy!

You’d known Gabriel for a long time. You’d met him while you were on a crazy hunt -caused by him, of course- which turned out to be the maddest hunt you’d ever been on. He’d transported you to a world much like the one depicted in Lewis Carroll’s Alice in Wonderland and had shown up, grinning like the Cheshire Cat, a couple of days and countless agonising deaths later. At first, you hadn’t liked him. And you’d liked him even less when, as his parting words, he’d chosen to reference Alice in Wonderland again and wink, saying ‘Eat me’ in a tone of voice heavily laden with innuendo.

No, you hadn’t liked him then. But you’d stumbled across him -or, rather, he’d found you- numerous times after that. And slowly, bit by bit, you got to know him better. You got to see behind his confident, flirty exterior and you started liking him more.

It had been a long time since you had last seen him and, with rumours about the oncoming Apocalypse passing from one hunter’s mouth to the other’s, you always had to remain on your toes; ever vigilant and watchful as you tried to distinguish truth from lie.

It came as a surprise to you when, one day, Gabriel just showed up at the door of your motel room. You had no ongoing case, nothing that could justify his sudden appearance. And yet there he was, flirty smile on his face as he swallowed the last of his candy bar.

“Hello, sweetheart. I’m sure you’ve missed me so terribly much. I definitely have missed you,” he said cheerfully, smiling a grin that brought you back to the first smile he had ever given you; that broad, wonderful grin that seemed more devious and teasing than a genuine smile. Only, this time, he embraced you briefly, showing you exactly how much he actually had missed you.

He then proceeded to push past you and make his way to the bed, where he sat down and continued eating his sweets. For a while, you just stared at each other, your gaze meeting his brown one questioningly.

“What are you doing here?” you said eventually, breaking the perpetual silence of the room. While you were glad to have him there, as you actually had missed him and you liked him a bit too much, his appearance was sudden.

“I’m here to see you. And I brought food,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows, as if that explained everything. You raised your own eyebrows incredulously.

“Don’t you have chaos to create somewhere else?” You asked him. “Or have the recent goings-on affected you as well?” You added, kind of jokingly, because you were quite certain that a trickster like Gabe wouldn’t really heed the far-fetched rumours about the Apocalypse.

But his face fell at the mention of that, and he cast his eyes downward. For a moment, he looked broken, torn apart, scared, and then he was okay again, smiling and looking up as if nothing had happened.

“Well, everybody who knows about what’s going on should be concerned. The destruction of the world as we know it could be imminent,” Gabriel said gravely, but his eyes never lost their cheerful glint. “So, you know what we can do to make sure we’re prepared?” he said in a secretive, conspiratorial, tone of voice.

“What?” you asked.

He dropped you a wink. “Sex and food. Lots and lots of sex and eating food to make up for every second in our life that we haven’t been doing one or the other,” he said simply and his tone of voice was so serious that you felt like the laugh you choked out was out of place.

“Gabe. You can’t be telling me that what everyone’s been saying is true. I’m sure it’s just a false alarm,” you said with a shrug.

Gabriel’s serious look returned again then, and he frowned, staring at the long-forgotten and only half-eaten chocolate bar in his hand.

“It’s true,” he said with a sigh.

“How… how do you know?” you asked, somehow believing him. You sat down on the bed next to him and nervously tapped a rhythm with your fingers on your leg.

His hand reached over to cover yours and stop the nervous drumming. At that, you lifted your gaze to meet his, and any doubt you might have had about this whole situation vanished at the pained, fearful look that was still in his eyes.

Everything went downhill from there. Despair fought with fear and chaos tangled with misery to create the perfect cacophony of discord.

“Y/n… I’m not just a trickster. The name Gabriel isn’t just a name. I’m the Gabriel; the archangel Gabriel. And I know that this is really happening; I know that almost all the required seals to start the Apocalypse are broken. There is no escaping this,” he said, his voice pained as his grip on your hand tightened and the desperation in his eyes intensified.

“I don’t know if I’m going to live to see another day. None of us can know. Lucifer could rise tomorrow,” he said, a note of fear in his voice as he spoke.

“Nobody ever knows what life will bring,” you whispered back, unable to do much else other than stare into his eyes. You felt helpless now that you knew that the world was gradually falling apart. Helpless, and drowning; drowning in the world and in his eyes that looked like chocolate and caramel and Gabe.

He leaned forward to brush a tear you hadn’t even realised was falling off your cheek with his thumb, and he didn’t pull away. He was close enough that you could feel his breath -that smelt pleasantly of chocolate and caramel- against your cheeks and lips.

“It’ll be okay,” you muttered under your breath, trying to reassure both yourself and Gabriel with your words. He gave a solemn nod in response. “We can only wait and see,” he replied, and it was your turn to nod.

“Gabriel…” You said helplessly after a while of silence, uttering his name just because you liked the feel of his name rolling off your tongue.

“Y/n,” he was quick to reply, and that was enough to give you the required courage to close the distance between your lips.

The kiss didn’t go as an expected first kiss would. No sparks flew around you; no butterflies fluttered in your stomach and nothing about it was tender and sweet -apart from, perhaps, the lingering taste of sugar and chocolate of his mouth.

It was frantic and anxious and was punctuated by breathy moans and desperate tugging at clothes. It was the kind of kiss that doesn’t satisfy you but only leaves you wanting more and more and oh so much more.

“I love you,” you heard yourself mutter at some point, because now was no time to worry about it being too soon, it was the time to worry about having been too late to say or do something.

Gabriel tugged on your shirt urgently and whispered ‘me too’.

The urgency never left, not even when you lay side by side under the sheets in the bed the following morning, or when you said goodbye three days later.

You never saw him again. That day, a part of you broke. And you somehow knew you’d never get it back.

Trust Me

Pairing: Loki x reader

Word Count: 1,044

Summary: You are an agent with S.H.I.E.L.D. and are assigned on the case of Loki. What will your final judgment be?

Warnings: N/A, I believe.

A/N: Happy birthday to Tom Hiddleston! <3

Also, this is a bit irrelevant to the events of Thor: The Dark World; my apologies for that.

“I don’t understand,” the clipped, slightly accented and very much annoyed voice of Loki resonated in the empty room, and he fixed his piercing glare on you and his brother Thor, who shifted uncomfortably in his seat yet returned the Trickster’s cool look.

“I have paid my dues. I have understood the weight of my crimes and I have spent a sufficient amount of time in prison, thinking of what I did wrong and doing everything else expected of an inmate like me. Now that you need my assistance, why won’t you just let me out?” he insisted on the same argument he had gone over numerous times but always used slightly different words for. He enunciated every word clearly, as if he was speaking to two rather stubborn children instead of Thor and an experienced S.H.I.E.L.D. agent.

“We told you, Loki. You are too dangerous to be trusted. We just need the information,” Thor’s deep, loud, voice boomed and echoed in the confined space of the room you were in.

Loki frowned, his eyes scanning you carefully for anything that might be useful to him, and you allowed yourself to break character long enough to shrug apologetically at him, indicating that it wasn’t in your power to decide about his future.

Loki and you had a rather... interesting relationship that deviated from the usual one between an officer of the law and a criminal. You knew there was good inside him; you knew he had changed, and you knew that well. It had been only last night when, anxious about his interview with you and Thor, he had confessed all of his fears and insecurities to you and kissed you senseless.

There was no hint of the previous night’s desperation and vulnerability in him now. His posture was straight, regal -that of a king’s- and his expression was neutral, almost bored.

“I don’t have the information,” Loki said sharply, the sound of his voice drawing you back to reality. “But I have a way of finding it that would require countless hours of research -and that could only be possible if I were free to go to the palace library,” he said, meaningfully rattling the handcuffs that tied his hands together.

Thor and you shared a look at that and, without a word, you got up and walked out of the room.

“Whatever shall we do, Lady Y/N? I am afraid that Loki is right -we need his help, and it is obvious that the only way to ensure that is to free him. But he is dangerous, and both Asgard and Midgard alike would be enraged if they found out about this. The threat of another of his attacks is too big, and the fear too fresh in the people’s minds. We can’t just cut him loose,” Thor said with a sigh. “I wouldn’t want for my first big and crucial decision to be a failure, but I also cannot let this mission fail, and without Loki’s help, disaster would be imminent.”

You thought for a bit. You, of course, wanted Loki’s freedom. You’d seen a reformed Loki in the cage the previous night, and you wanted the world to understand that he indeed was different.

“Nobody said that the world has to know. And we don’t have to cut him loose either. He asked for a way out of that cage, but any place -if guarded properly- can become a prison. You can convert his rooms into a heavily guarded holding place and you can gradually give him more and more freedom until he either convinces you of his change or gives you a reason to throw him back in jail,” you suggested, and Thor’s frown turned into a smile.

“That’s brilliant -and exactly what we are going to do. But I have to ask a small favour of you. Could you watch him while he does his research? You’re intelligent enough to keep him under control,” he said.

It was your turn to smile. “Certainly. It’d be my pleasure.”

Half an hour later, you were standing near a table inside a vast, seemingly endless, library with Loki next to you. You were so caught up in the mystery and sheer mass of the books that surrounded you that at first you didn’t notice Loki’s piercing gaze.

“What is it?” you asked him, and he continued to look at you in that way that made you feel as if he was reading you. In the end, frustrated, he heaved a sigh.

“It must’ve been you who convinced Thor to give me this -however limited- amount of freedom,” he said, and you smiled, understanding the underlying message. ‘Thank you.’

“I just... I trust you,” you replied, and he chuckled.

“Not a wise decision on your part. I’m a criminal.”

It was your turn to fix him with a piercing glare. “Yes, you are, but I believe you’ve seen that what you did wasn’t right. I believe that a part of you -if not all of you- has changed,” you said firmly, moving closer to him. “I always had my doubts when it came to what everyone said. Last night only helped reassure me. Loki, give me no reason to distrust you, and I won’t,” you told him, and you were happy to see a small, rare, smile appear on his lips.

“Last night... it was good,” you said hesitantly, and his smile turned into a more predatory one. He walked closer to you, backing you up against the table and trapping you between its cold surface and his body.

“But this night can be better,” he muttered, leaning closer to you and pressing his lips on yours. His tongue licked your lower lip and you gave a small moan, opening your mouth to allow him access. The kiss was heated, passionate and needy, very much unlike the previous night’s tender caresses.

“I like the way you trust me,” he muttered as he pulled away, and you barely managed to stifle a whimper at the sight of his heated gaze.

“Always,” you muttered back, and he smirked.

“What do you say we postpone research for a while?” he suggested and, not waiting for a response, leaned closer to capture your lips with his.

the worst thing about writing is that you aren’t just a writer. you have to be a thousand things. a poet, a flirt, a weapons expert, a bleeding heart, a scholar, a legendary cook, a theorist, an engineer, a reckless teenage girl, a dying god. you have to be able to write monologues and speeches and heartfelt confessions, and you have to make them believable. writing is putting yourself into someone else’s shoes.

writing is really hard (◕︿◕✿)