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thrihyrneTitle: Strange-Eyed Constellation
Pairing(s): Past Fred/Seamus, Seamus/Dean, eventual Fred/Seamus/Dean, Ron/Harry
Rating: This chapter definitely NC-17; threesome sex
Summary: War can make strange bedfellows; peacetime allows kindred spirits to join together. Seamus discovers both, and in being true to the baffling desires of his heart, believes that love needn't come exclusively in pairs.
A/N: my thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
wolfiekins for the written beta and the cameo!! This is truly the end, at this point. Thank you all for reading.
The title comes from Thomas Hardy's poem "Drummer Hodge."
Previous Posts:
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6
Part 7
Part 8
Part 9
Part 10
.:~ Epilogue ~:.
Seamus entered their house after his rare mid-day shift and was greeted by a sight that both turned him on, but also flooded his mouth with the flavour of malcontent. Fred was sitting on the couch, on the receiving end of what appeared to be a very satisfying blowjob, Dean cradled between his legs.
"Couldn't wait for me to get home, eh?" Seamus asked airily, unzipping his leather riding jacket and dropping his satchel on the floor.
"Dean was reading— oh fuck, Dean, right there, fuck— one of those books you two love so much, and apparently the vampire did something that got him— nnnnnnnnngh…"
Fred's explanation changed from English into a gibbering nonsense of profanity and low-pitched moaning sounds. Seamus' libido had needed only one bout in the ring with his jealousy before knocking it out cold, and he began taking off his jumper and shirt. He listened to the wet, slurping sounds as Dean fellated Fred with gusto until Fred managed somewhat to regain his command of language.
"He got all horny and really wanted something besides a wank. He wanted somebody with a cock, which I happen to have, so here we are," Fred said in a roughened baritone. "But I'm sure now that you're back, Dean can have something else he really wants. Your arse. Oh holy Merlin fuck, so good," he moaned.
Seamus couldn't help chortling as he undid his flies, reaching into his boxers to stroke his awakening erection. "'S that true, Dean?"
Dean nodded enthusiastically, but didn't at all slow in his eager ministrations to Fred. As Seamus got rid of the rest of his clothes and shoes, he watched as a flush crept up from Fred's chest to his neck, the ruddy glow under his freckles a telltale sign of his impending orgasm. Seamus forced his eyes closed, not out of hurt or embarrassment, far from it. He'd taken to keeping his eyes shut during their lovemaking, trying to share in Dean's sight-deprived world, though both Fred and Dean thought he was silly to do so. He cheated for a moment to go and get his wand out of his pile of discarded clothing, Accio'ing a jar of lubricant and placing it on the table. He kneeled at Dean's side, wrapping an arm around Fred's sturdy trunk of calf, noticing that Dean was fully dressed. He admired the play of muscles in Dean's throat before making himself close his eyes again, hearing the volume of Fred's groans increase until he let out a hoarse grunt. Seamus imagined Fred's taste on his own tongue, and snuck his hand down Dean's back to slide it into the small gaping space, fingering the soft curve of his arse.
When Seamus could tell Fred was completely spent and Dean had moved to sit upright, he pulled Dean to him.
"Kiss me," he said, his groin already aching in anticipation of Dean pushing into him. He sighed into Dean's mouth as they kissed, at the ghostly tang of Fred's come on Dean's tongue and the spicy flavour uniquely composed of Dean and shared.
"Want you," Dean said heavily. "That bloody book's put too many ideas in my head."
"I like that!" Seamus exclaimed, moving to stand as he heard Dean begin to take off his clothes. He gave up keeping his eyes shut, regarding Fred as he sprawled on the tan sofa. "Can I lie back on you? I'd like to be in-between you, but…" He gestured at Fred's cock, now mostly flaccid and curving against his inner thigh.
"If you're careful of my bits, yes, you can." Fred's smile was both warm and knowing, but Seamus didn't mind that some of his neediness was so transparent.
Fred eased back onto the couch, suggesting that Seamus cast an enlarging charm on it for comfort, which he did.
"Lube's on the table," Seamus said helpfully to Dean, watching his wide finger pads dance across the tabletop until they found the jar. Seamus spread himself out below the vee of Fred's legs, his head resting against the bony armour of his ribcage. He put his arms over his head, grasping the armrest that Fred leaned against. His gaze was drawn irrevocably to the thick shaft that Dean slicked up with the lube that smelled faintly of the ocean.
"Get up here and fuck me," Seamus said before he realised how belligerent that sounded. "Please."
Dean laughed, his stomach muscles contracting into a ridged pattern as he did. "I wasn't offended. And I'll take care of you, all right."
Soon their bodies were involved in a familiar, but still powerful dance of shoving and thrusting. Seamus had put his feet up on Dean's shoulders, letting out a deep groan as Dean pushed relentlessly into him. The burning fullness softened into a heated fire in his arse, occasional jolts of pleasure coursing up into his prick when Dean's spearing motions slid his cock past nerves deep in his channel. Of his own volition, Fred took Seamus' cock in hand, adding yet another layer of pleasure for Seamus, who still clutched at the armrest for support. No one spoke in words; there was only wafting musk and sweat and patchouli from incense that Dean must've been burning earlier and tension coiling from the deep treasure below Seamus' guts. Dean was more single-minded than usual, rutting into Seamus with his own pleasure as his primary goal. Seamus didn't mind a bit, crying out when Fred began stroking him faster. Dean was panting when he suddenly slowed to ask a question.
"Will you turn on your side?" he rasped, and Seamus complied, his own heart thumping madly in his chest. Fred wriggled a hand down to protect his privates from Seamus' hip. Soon they were at it again, one of Seamus' legs slung over Dean's shoulder, the other lying astride Fred's thigh.
Rational thought was meaningless at times like this, but Seamus couldn't help but spare an often-voiced sentiment he'd had for the past few months: he was content. From the bottoms of his toes, now curling into near-painful talons as his release came flooding up from his tight sacs, to Fred's breathy rumbles tickling his ear, and Dean, balls-deep inside of him, he felt whole: completed.
"Fuck, Shay!" Dean shouted as Seamus felt a pulsing deep within himself, Seamus' own come now coating his furred belly and Fred's fingers. Dean eventually collapsed onto him. After checking with Fred to make sure they weren't too heavy, Seamus sank into a state of post-coital bliss. He was a sap, he knew it, especially after bone-melting sex.
"Love you. Both," he said.
Both Dean and Fred made huffed, amused noises, and Fred ran his fingers that weren't coated with Seamus' come through his hair.
"You too," Dean said, raising his head to kiss him on the shoulder.
"I'm not big on declarations," Fred said, shifting his hips to get more comfortable. "But you both know why I'm here."
A cozy silence settled around them like the smoke from a peat fire until Seamus realised his arm was falling to sleep and he was sticky and smelled like stale smoke from the bar.
"Nothing against you both, but I'd like to go stretch out and have a smoke," Fred announced, giving Seamus a last kiss on his head. "Anybody else?"
"I'll join you," Dean said, scooting back to sit on his heels, waiting for Seamus to move, waving his hand around to establish what body part of Seamus' was where.
"I need a shower," Seamus declared to no one in particular.
He found his heap of clothes and put his boxers and denims back on while Fred and Dean got properly dressed. It was late November, and winter had slunk in, bringing ceaseless days of chill rain with the occasional respite of startling sunshine. This week had brought nothing but monotonous grey clouds and watery, tepid sun struggling to get through.
Seamus watched his lovers put on their coats and go out to the small patio outside the back door before turning to head upstairs to their bedroom. There were a few pictures hanging on the walls in the stairwell, a couple of Dean from some photo shoots he'd done after Harry had sent off his trial set to a swimwear photographer, as well as the Gryffindor Quidditch team from Fred's fourth year. Seamus' favourite picture, which was in a prominent location down in their living room, was an informal one that Harry took the afternoon of their move. Ron had volunteered to cook for them afterwards, and in the photograph he stood at a small grill, talking to Dean. Seamus had his head resting on Fred's shoulder, an arm held behind Fred's back and his hand stuck into a back pocket. Unselfconsciously, Dean held out his hand for Seamus to give a quick squeeze before he let it drop back at his side. Again and again in the moving photo, their bond of three was joined, as natural as breathing.
Rather to Seamus' surprise, a conversation that led them to decide to buy a house together had happened only a couple of months after his motorbike accident. He'd simply assumed that Fred would want to keep his own space, being right above Wheezes' and all that. Fred had the money to keep it and not rent it out, and instead he'd let his friends and family know they could borrow it when or if they needed it. Seamus had no doubt that if Harry weren't there with him most nights, Ron would've crashed there loads of times. Harry was a good minder to him, but didn't mother him, either. Fred and George's portrait was downstairs on one of the walls in the dining room, so portrait-George had a view of that room, the kitchen, and the living room. He was gone a lot of the time anymore, and when Seamus asked Dean if he knew what was going on, Dean just smirked and said that Angelina and some random French bird had been keeping him occupied.
"Good on him!" Seamus had said, feeling that a stone he'd not realised he'd been carrying had been taken away from him. He'd known that anywhere Fred went, the portrait would go, too, but he'd remained unable to fathom how it could bring Fred anything but sadness and anger. Apparently George was doing okay in the portrait-realm, though Seamus was glad that he tended to stay out of the frame when the three of them happened to get randy and not make it upstairs to the bedroom.
Up in their room, there was a mid-sized photograph hanging in a heavy black frame that commanded the wall nearest the bathroom, though Seamus didn't pay that much attention to it anymore. When they'd first decided to put it there, however, he'd spent a goodly amount of time ogling it. It was one of the outtake photos very similar to the full-page spread of Dean that had made it into Un-Robed! In the picture, Dean sat back against a funny Muggle chair that Harry had brought, a cushiony thing called a bean bag chair, one leg stretched out, the other pulled up into his groin. He was palming himself leisurely, a far-away expression on his face which Seamus always took to mean he was thinking about him. It had been rather hilarious after that issue went to print because Dean was flooded with owls from wizards and witches alike. Rather indignantly, Seamus had continued to insist that the magazine was for queer wizards, but Dean had laughed it off, saying that he didn't mind appealing to anybody and everybody.
"Not like I can even really know what I look like, eh?" he'd said with a shrug. "For all I know they used a Muggle computer and put somebody else's head on my body."
"They didn't!" Seamus had insisted. "It's you, for sure. Gorgeous, sexy as hell, and now you're going to be the wanking material for all these bloody people all over Britain."
"You say that like it's a bad thing," Fred had retorted, snaking an arm around Dean's waist and leaning in to breathe hotly into his ear. "Just think of how envious all those blokes are that we get this body all to ourselves."
"And birds," Seamus had said, still put off and slightly nauseated by the thought of women buying a poufter mag and doing Merlin only knew what with their girly parts, thinking about Dean while doing so.
Now, as he passed by it on his way into the bathroom, he softly said, "Mine." Turning on the taps in the shower, under his breath with a rueful smile, he said, "And Fred's."
* * * * *
"C'mon, we're going to be late!"
Seamus paced the short entryway, impatiently waiting as Dean and Fred donned their coats and scarves. He looked down at his own attire, shook his head and barked a laugh.
"What?" Dean asked, checking his coat pocket to make sure the book was securely inside.
"Our scarves. We've all got on the ones Molly made."
At Christmas, perhaps unsurprisingly, they'd each found a hand-knitted scarf as a gift from Fred's mum, though the yarn was more subdued than anything else of hers that Fred had worn. It was a dusk-lilac-grey mix that seemed to shimmer with different tones in the light. Dean's had a slight variation in that his had a short fringe on the ends, so he knew which one was his— so Molly had said, with the faintest flicker of sadness in her eyes.
"I doubt anyone will notice," Dean said, turning to Seamus. "Do I look okay?"
"Smashing."
Fred rolled his eyes. "Why are you trying to impress this Muggle author, anyway? And if she's so well known, why is she signing books at some small shop in Portsmouth? Why not London?"
Dean retrieved his guide stick from its usual spot leaning next to the fireplace and Seamus opened the front door. "Well, she's famous to people who like the Fang and Fury series. I don't think she's actually all that well known to a huge number of people."
At the noise of the door opening, Kipper looked up lazily from her favourite spot. She was curled up on a hideous, but supremely comfortable plush chair. She opened her eyes and yawned, her pink tongue unfurling like a tendril from her mouth before lowering her head, apparently disinterested.
Fred shut and locked the door behind them, his breath making white puffs into the damp, frigid air. "Oh." His voice belied the fact that he'd been led to believe that the authoress they were going to meet was far more important than she apparently was.
"D'you think she's related to Anson Astrolabe, the singer?" Dean asked, his stick moving briskly in front of him as they walked the short distance to a discreet Apparition point.
"No, she's a Muggle, remember," Seamus replied. "Let me see yer book. You did transfigure it so it's regular print, not Braille, right?"
"Bloody hell, yes," Dean said, irritated.
"Just checking." Seamus found himself becoming peevish, feeding off of Dean's nervousness.
"She's just a Muggle author. Why are you two so keen on getting your books signed, anyway?" Fred asked as they went down a narrow alley, stopping behind an old phone box.
"She wrote Fang and Fury. It's brilliant!" Seamus said excitedly, pulling Dean to him in preparation for side-along Apparating away.
"I've read some. It's not that great," Fred insisted until Dean gave him a withering look. "Fine. You like it, that's great. Whatever lifts your robe."
With two nearly simultaneous popping sounds, they vanished, reappearing next to a tall line of shrubs. Supposedly they were a few blocks from the bookshop where Harry had told Dean that Astrid Astrolabe was having a book signing from one to four o'clock. Seamus had brought the first in the series, Midnight Succour, while Dean held his copy of book four, Sanguinary Feast. Fred was there purely out of curiosity, and, Seamus suspected, to get details so he could more effectively poke fun at them later on.
Seamus felt a thrill of excitement course through him once they saw the shop-front itself, and actual gooseflesh rose on his arms once they were inside. He saw a small table set up with a slender, red-haired woman sitting at it. There were a few people in the queue in front of them, but he'd timed their arrival so they would be there towards the end of the signing hoping they could take the mysterious author out for a drink or something. He wasn't entirely sure why he found himself so star struck over some bird who wrote off-the-wall stories about the love and catastrophes of a werewolf and vampire, but he and Dean had spent so much time reading and elaborating on them… and, he had to admit, the sex was pretty hot.
"There're some right mingers in the queue ahead of us," Fred confided to Dean, who smirked crookedly. "That said, I wouldn't be surprised if one of these two blokes lurking about this Astrid woman didn't try to chat you up. They're easy on the eyes."
Seamus' brow furrowed as he unzipped his coat, suddenly warm now that he was in the heat of the booksellers and framing shop. As Fred had pointed out, there were two men talking to each other not far from Astrid, one smoking and listening, the other consulting a leather-bound book of some sort.
"Your book, Dean, you're sure it's set right?" Seamus asked, even though he knew he should trust Dean to have transfigured the Braille.
"Yes. Quit asking!" Dean said angrily before changing his tone. "What does she look like?"
Seamus described her in hushed tones while Fred looked the two men over. The slightly shorter one, with piercing blue eyes and narrow lips, wasn't at all abashed in his favourable evaluation of the three of them. In fact, he appeared to be only half-listening to the other man, taking a drag on his cigarette and letting his gaze rove freely from Dean to Fred to Seamus, returning to Dean. Seamus felt flattered, but protective, and draped an arm behind Dean's waist. The author's voice carried to Seamus and his eyes widened in shock.
"She's a bloody Yank!" he said, not as quietly as he'd intended.
"Mmmmm. Subtle, Seamus," Fred said in a hushed voice.
"Shay," Dean growled. "Don't insult her."
"I thought she was British!" Seamus hissed defensively, and then the person in front of them moved away.
The author writing under the name Astrid Astrolabe, American Muggle whose characters Seamus and Dean had spent uncountable hours making fun of, avidly reading, wanking to and even once (though Seamus hadn't told Dean this) crying over, sat in front of them. To Seamus' eye, she looked as though she could use a stiff drink and a good night's rest, in that order.
"Hi! Thanks for coming," she said in her distinctive accent. "I'm so glad to get to meet so many of my fans. You guys are the best, truly. I can't thank you enough for your support since I started writing these."
Seamus just knew he was grinning like a loon, and he could hear Fred trying not to laugh. Dean of course didn't know exactly where she was sitting, and the two of them just stood for a moment, smiling down at her as she smiled back.
"Did you want to buy a copy for me to sign, or did you bring your own?" she asked, glossing over Seamus' temporary social ineptitude.
"I brought my own copy," he said, reaching into his coat and handing the well-worn copy of Midnight Succour to her.
"Oh, wow. This has had a lot of love," Astrid said, her smile bright as she thumbed the pages. "Or it got run over. What's your name? Or whose name did you want me to dedicate this to?"
"Me. Seamus," he replied. "Seamus Finnigan. Dean and I," he tilted his head to Dean, standing at his side, "we've read all your stuff. Made up our own stories, even."
Astrid gaped at that before grasping behind her to tug on the shirt of the tall chap wearing a hat and glasses.
"Oh my God! Jon— they're writing fanfic!!" Her face was so animated and her smile so wide that Seamus almost feared for her sanity for a moment.
"Really?" he answered, grinning. He also spoke with an American twang. "Excellent!"
"Fan what?" Seamus asked as Dean stretched out his hand in Astrid's direction, acting far more suave than Seamus was.
"Astrid? I'm Dean Thomas. And I'm blind, but I'd like to shake your hand."
"Oh my gosh," she said, flustered, shoving her chair back so fast it toppled over. "Shit! Oh, sorry. I'm just—" She paused to look at him, still clasping his hand, her flushed face now registering confusion. "How do you read these? I know nothing in this genre would ever get made into a book on tape, and certainly not into Braille." She blushed furiously. "Not with some of what Balthamos and Monarch get up to."
"I read them to him," Seamus said hurriedly, nudging at Dean to let go of her hand so he could get out his own book. "And my apologies, miss, I don't know what it is you're talking about. Dean and me, we've just made up some additional stories for some of the characters. Hope you don't mind."
"If you knew what kind of pervy stuff these two imagine, you should mind," Fred assured her, draping his arm behind both of them.
Astrid now appeared completely overwhelmed. "Wow. You… that's so great. You have no idea how great that is," she went on, fondling Seamus' book, her gaze now captivated by Fred. Shaking her head, she picked up a purple pen off of the table and made to sit down when Jon shouted at her about the overturned chair. He righted it and she sank down, looking back up at Seamus.
"It's Seamus?" she clarified, unable to keep the delight off of her face. "God, your accent. You could read the phone book to me and I'd be in seventh heaven."
As she wrote a couple of sentences, making happy cooing sounds to herself, Seamus wondered if that was a strange Muggle compliment or what. She signed Dean's copy once he got it out of his coat, then she looked expectantly at Fred.
"Oh, I'm just here to mind these two," Fred declared, patting Dean and Seamus on the hips. "I'm not much of a reader."
"Oh." Her attractive face fell, but she recovered quickly. Despite her enthusiasm, she still seemed to be at the rough end of a long day.
"Care to come to the pub with us for a drink?" Seamus said heedlessly, his heart stumbling madly over itself when her eyes lit up. This would be his chance! He could ask about the Lost Realm of Woe and why Balthamos was such a whinging pansy at times and how in fecking hell she — a woman — wrote hot sex with two guys. Or a guy and a wolf, on occasion, when Balthamos transformed and they got it on anyway. Bestiality wasn't a kink Seamus had ever thought about until he'd read the third book, but after the initial shock wore off, he found that he enjoyed those scenes.
"Oh, I'd love to," she said, sounding absolutely heartbroken. "You don't know how much. But I've got to catch a flight to Stornoway and I need to make sure I get on the right plane." She seemed so disappointed even Fred appeared to pity her a bit.
"Will you come back to England? After you write the next book?" Dean asked hopefully, caressing his book cover with his long fingers.
"If you three, well, two, are that into the books, you can have your own personal book signing, and I'll be ecstatic," she sighed, earning an eye roll from the Jon fellow. Seamus had now pegged him as her probable agent or publisher.
"You do have a few other fans waiting," Jon said pointedly, but not unkindly.
"Oh. Right. Well, such a pleasure. All of you," she said, still beaming and pink lingering on her cheeks. "If you like them, spread the word!"
"We will," Dean promised. "Friend of ours told Shay here about them, and this other guy is pretty famous."
"Great. Well, bye. Thanks again!" she said, her gaze lingering on Fred as she said under her breath, "Fanfic. Oral fanfic, anyway. Oh my God."
"That was entertaining," Fred snickered once they were back outside. "Anybody else you'd like to fawn all over today?"
"Piss off," Seamus retorted. "This is higher class than your signed nude pic of Oliver Wood."
"From what I've read of Astrid Astrolabe, my picture has more lasting entertainment value," Fred sneered.
"What'd she write in mine?" Dean asked, handing his book to Seamus to read.
"Merlin. Her handwriting's atrocious. Um, I think it says, 'To Dean, thank you for being such a memorable fan. Send me one of your stories!' And then there's a string of gobbledygook with some symbol in the middle. I don't know what the hell it means." He shrugged, placing the paperback into Dean's palm.
"And yours?" Fred prodded as he steered them into an inviting pub.
Seamus scrutinised the untidy print. "'To Seamus, thanks so much for loving the characters like I do. Hope to see you again after book six!' Then there's that same set of letters with a circle in the middle. Weird."
"You heart-breaker," Fred sniggered, guiding Dean past a fellow with a large belly. "Little does she know you'd never look at her twice if you didn't know she wrote about the perverse sex lives of werewolves and vampires."
"Shut up!" Seamus said in her defence, but he couldn't help grinning.
Maybe he would write down one of the scenarios he and Dean had come up with and owl it to her, or get Dean and Harry to help him send it through the Muggle post. Who knew; perhaps she'd even like the idea so much it'd end up in one of the next books. With that cheery thought, he slid next to Dean in the booth Fred had found, placed his hand on Dean's thigh, and ordered a celebratory Guinness from their surly server. Once they all had their drinks, he raised his glass.
"To unconventional love!" he proposed, noting the smile lurking under Fred's sigh, and Dean's nod of appreciation.
"I'll drink to that," Dean replied as Seamus and Fred clinked their glasses against his.
Fred winked discreetly before tossing back his shot of scotch. "Too right. You have some interesting ideas, Seamus," he said, gesturing to their waitress with the empty glass. "Glad I've been a part of them."
"Me too," Dean said, placing his hand on top of Seamus', which was still on his leg. "Not exactly the norm, but neither are we."
His book nestled to his chest, Seamus agreed. "Wish we could've convinced her to join us."
"Oh Seamus, give up," Fred moaned.
He started to go on to Dean about the two decent-looking blokes who'd been giving them the once-over in the bookshop. Seamus paid only half a mind, simply content to be where he was, letting his mind drift to an imaginary future, sharing plot ideas with the funny author who'd come all the way over from America. Seamus couldn't wait to tell Harry about how the book signing went. He squeezed Dean's hand and drank some more of his Guinness, amused at himself and the world in general. He'd be sure to have some good steamy scenes to suggest for her next time, he vowed to himself. Hell, maybe she'd include Dean and him in a story! Not as themselves, of course, but maybe characters resembling them…
.:~ end ~:.
Pairing(s): Past Fred/Seamus, Seamus/Dean, eventual Fred/Seamus/Dean, Ron/Harry
Rating: This chapter definitely NC-17; threesome sex
Summary: War can make strange bedfellows; peacetime allows kindred spirits to join together. Seamus discovers both, and in being true to the baffling desires of his heart, believes that love needn't come exclusively in pairs.
A/N: my thanks to
wolfiekins for the written beta and the cameo!! This is truly the end, at this point. Thank you all for reading.The title comes from Thomas Hardy's poem "Drummer Hodge."
Previous Posts:
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6
Part 7
Part 8
Part 9
Part 10
Seamus entered their house after his rare mid-day shift and was greeted by a sight that both turned him on, but also flooded his mouth with the flavour of malcontent. Fred was sitting on the couch, on the receiving end of what appeared to be a very satisfying blowjob, Dean cradled between his legs.
"Couldn't wait for me to get home, eh?" Seamus asked airily, unzipping his leather riding jacket and dropping his satchel on the floor.
"Dean was reading— oh fuck, Dean, right there, fuck— one of those books you two love so much, and apparently the vampire did something that got him— nnnnnnnnngh…"
Fred's explanation changed from English into a gibbering nonsense of profanity and low-pitched moaning sounds. Seamus' libido had needed only one bout in the ring with his jealousy before knocking it out cold, and he began taking off his jumper and shirt. He listened to the wet, slurping sounds as Dean fellated Fred with gusto until Fred managed somewhat to regain his command of language.
"He got all horny and really wanted something besides a wank. He wanted somebody with a cock, which I happen to have, so here we are," Fred said in a roughened baritone. "But I'm sure now that you're back, Dean can have something else he really wants. Your arse. Oh holy Merlin fuck, so good," he moaned.
Seamus couldn't help chortling as he undid his flies, reaching into his boxers to stroke his awakening erection. "'S that true, Dean?"
Dean nodded enthusiastically, but didn't at all slow in his eager ministrations to Fred. As Seamus got rid of the rest of his clothes and shoes, he watched as a flush crept up from Fred's chest to his neck, the ruddy glow under his freckles a telltale sign of his impending orgasm. Seamus forced his eyes closed, not out of hurt or embarrassment, far from it. He'd taken to keeping his eyes shut during their lovemaking, trying to share in Dean's sight-deprived world, though both Fred and Dean thought he was silly to do so. He cheated for a moment to go and get his wand out of his pile of discarded clothing, Accio'ing a jar of lubricant and placing it on the table. He kneeled at Dean's side, wrapping an arm around Fred's sturdy trunk of calf, noticing that Dean was fully dressed. He admired the play of muscles in Dean's throat before making himself close his eyes again, hearing the volume of Fred's groans increase until he let out a hoarse grunt. Seamus imagined Fred's taste on his own tongue, and snuck his hand down Dean's back to slide it into the small gaping space, fingering the soft curve of his arse.
When Seamus could tell Fred was completely spent and Dean had moved to sit upright, he pulled Dean to him.
"Kiss me," he said, his groin already aching in anticipation of Dean pushing into him. He sighed into Dean's mouth as they kissed, at the ghostly tang of Fred's come on Dean's tongue and the spicy flavour uniquely composed of Dean and shared.
"Want you," Dean said heavily. "That bloody book's put too many ideas in my head."
"I like that!" Seamus exclaimed, moving to stand as he heard Dean begin to take off his clothes. He gave up keeping his eyes shut, regarding Fred as he sprawled on the tan sofa. "Can I lie back on you? I'd like to be in-between you, but…" He gestured at Fred's cock, now mostly flaccid and curving against his inner thigh.
"If you're careful of my bits, yes, you can." Fred's smile was both warm and knowing, but Seamus didn't mind that some of his neediness was so transparent.
Fred eased back onto the couch, suggesting that Seamus cast an enlarging charm on it for comfort, which he did.
"Lube's on the table," Seamus said helpfully to Dean, watching his wide finger pads dance across the tabletop until they found the jar. Seamus spread himself out below the vee of Fred's legs, his head resting against the bony armour of his ribcage. He put his arms over his head, grasping the armrest that Fred leaned against. His gaze was drawn irrevocably to the thick shaft that Dean slicked up with the lube that smelled faintly of the ocean.
"Get up here and fuck me," Seamus said before he realised how belligerent that sounded. "Please."
Dean laughed, his stomach muscles contracting into a ridged pattern as he did. "I wasn't offended. And I'll take care of you, all right."
Soon their bodies were involved in a familiar, but still powerful dance of shoving and thrusting. Seamus had put his feet up on Dean's shoulders, letting out a deep groan as Dean pushed relentlessly into him. The burning fullness softened into a heated fire in his arse, occasional jolts of pleasure coursing up into his prick when Dean's spearing motions slid his cock past nerves deep in his channel. Of his own volition, Fred took Seamus' cock in hand, adding yet another layer of pleasure for Seamus, who still clutched at the armrest for support. No one spoke in words; there was only wafting musk and sweat and patchouli from incense that Dean must've been burning earlier and tension coiling from the deep treasure below Seamus' guts. Dean was more single-minded than usual, rutting into Seamus with his own pleasure as his primary goal. Seamus didn't mind a bit, crying out when Fred began stroking him faster. Dean was panting when he suddenly slowed to ask a question.
"Will you turn on your side?" he rasped, and Seamus complied, his own heart thumping madly in his chest. Fred wriggled a hand down to protect his privates from Seamus' hip. Soon they were at it again, one of Seamus' legs slung over Dean's shoulder, the other lying astride Fred's thigh.
Rational thought was meaningless at times like this, but Seamus couldn't help but spare an often-voiced sentiment he'd had for the past few months: he was content. From the bottoms of his toes, now curling into near-painful talons as his release came flooding up from his tight sacs, to Fred's breathy rumbles tickling his ear, and Dean, balls-deep inside of him, he felt whole: completed.
"Fuck, Shay!" Dean shouted as Seamus felt a pulsing deep within himself, Seamus' own come now coating his furred belly and Fred's fingers. Dean eventually collapsed onto him. After checking with Fred to make sure they weren't too heavy, Seamus sank into a state of post-coital bliss. He was a sap, he knew it, especially after bone-melting sex.
"Love you. Both," he said.
Both Dean and Fred made huffed, amused noises, and Fred ran his fingers that weren't coated with Seamus' come through his hair.
"You too," Dean said, raising his head to kiss him on the shoulder.
"I'm not big on declarations," Fred said, shifting his hips to get more comfortable. "But you both know why I'm here."
A cozy silence settled around them like the smoke from a peat fire until Seamus realised his arm was falling to sleep and he was sticky and smelled like stale smoke from the bar.
"Nothing against you both, but I'd like to go stretch out and have a smoke," Fred announced, giving Seamus a last kiss on his head. "Anybody else?"
"I'll join you," Dean said, scooting back to sit on his heels, waiting for Seamus to move, waving his hand around to establish what body part of Seamus' was where.
"I need a shower," Seamus declared to no one in particular.
He found his heap of clothes and put his boxers and denims back on while Fred and Dean got properly dressed. It was late November, and winter had slunk in, bringing ceaseless days of chill rain with the occasional respite of startling sunshine. This week had brought nothing but monotonous grey clouds and watery, tepid sun struggling to get through.
Seamus watched his lovers put on their coats and go out to the small patio outside the back door before turning to head upstairs to their bedroom. There were a few pictures hanging on the walls in the stairwell, a couple of Dean from some photo shoots he'd done after Harry had sent off his trial set to a swimwear photographer, as well as the Gryffindor Quidditch team from Fred's fourth year. Seamus' favourite picture, which was in a prominent location down in their living room, was an informal one that Harry took the afternoon of their move. Ron had volunteered to cook for them afterwards, and in the photograph he stood at a small grill, talking to Dean. Seamus had his head resting on Fred's shoulder, an arm held behind Fred's back and his hand stuck into a back pocket. Unselfconsciously, Dean held out his hand for Seamus to give a quick squeeze before he let it drop back at his side. Again and again in the moving photo, their bond of three was joined, as natural as breathing.
Rather to Seamus' surprise, a conversation that led them to decide to buy a house together had happened only a couple of months after his motorbike accident. He'd simply assumed that Fred would want to keep his own space, being right above Wheezes' and all that. Fred had the money to keep it and not rent it out, and instead he'd let his friends and family know they could borrow it when or if they needed it. Seamus had no doubt that if Harry weren't there with him most nights, Ron would've crashed there loads of times. Harry was a good minder to him, but didn't mother him, either. Fred and George's portrait was downstairs on one of the walls in the dining room, so portrait-George had a view of that room, the kitchen, and the living room. He was gone a lot of the time anymore, and when Seamus asked Dean if he knew what was going on, Dean just smirked and said that Angelina and some random French bird had been keeping him occupied.
"Good on him!" Seamus had said, feeling that a stone he'd not realised he'd been carrying had been taken away from him. He'd known that anywhere Fred went, the portrait would go, too, but he'd remained unable to fathom how it could bring Fred anything but sadness and anger. Apparently George was doing okay in the portrait-realm, though Seamus was glad that he tended to stay out of the frame when the three of them happened to get randy and not make it upstairs to the bedroom.
Up in their room, there was a mid-sized photograph hanging in a heavy black frame that commanded the wall nearest the bathroom, though Seamus didn't pay that much attention to it anymore. When they'd first decided to put it there, however, he'd spent a goodly amount of time ogling it. It was one of the outtake photos very similar to the full-page spread of Dean that had made it into Un-Robed! In the picture, Dean sat back against a funny Muggle chair that Harry had brought, a cushiony thing called a bean bag chair, one leg stretched out, the other pulled up into his groin. He was palming himself leisurely, a far-away expression on his face which Seamus always took to mean he was thinking about him. It had been rather hilarious after that issue went to print because Dean was flooded with owls from wizards and witches alike. Rather indignantly, Seamus had continued to insist that the magazine was for queer wizards, but Dean had laughed it off, saying that he didn't mind appealing to anybody and everybody.
"Not like I can even really know what I look like, eh?" he'd said with a shrug. "For all I know they used a Muggle computer and put somebody else's head on my body."
"They didn't!" Seamus had insisted. "It's you, for sure. Gorgeous, sexy as hell, and now you're going to be the wanking material for all these bloody people all over Britain."
"You say that like it's a bad thing," Fred had retorted, snaking an arm around Dean's waist and leaning in to breathe hotly into his ear. "Just think of how envious all those blokes are that we get this body all to ourselves."
"And birds," Seamus had said, still put off and slightly nauseated by the thought of women buying a poufter mag and doing Merlin only knew what with their girly parts, thinking about Dean while doing so.
Now, as he passed by it on his way into the bathroom, he softly said, "Mine." Turning on the taps in the shower, under his breath with a rueful smile, he said, "And Fred's."
* * * * *
"C'mon, we're going to be late!"
Seamus paced the short entryway, impatiently waiting as Dean and Fred donned their coats and scarves. He looked down at his own attire, shook his head and barked a laugh.
"What?" Dean asked, checking his coat pocket to make sure the book was securely inside.
"Our scarves. We've all got on the ones Molly made."
At Christmas, perhaps unsurprisingly, they'd each found a hand-knitted scarf as a gift from Fred's mum, though the yarn was more subdued than anything else of hers that Fred had worn. It was a dusk-lilac-grey mix that seemed to shimmer with different tones in the light. Dean's had a slight variation in that his had a short fringe on the ends, so he knew which one was his— so Molly had said, with the faintest flicker of sadness in her eyes.
"I doubt anyone will notice," Dean said, turning to Seamus. "Do I look okay?"
"Smashing."
Fred rolled his eyes. "Why are you trying to impress this Muggle author, anyway? And if she's so well known, why is she signing books at some small shop in Portsmouth? Why not London?"
Dean retrieved his guide stick from its usual spot leaning next to the fireplace and Seamus opened the front door. "Well, she's famous to people who like the Fang and Fury series. I don't think she's actually all that well known to a huge number of people."
At the noise of the door opening, Kipper looked up lazily from her favourite spot. She was curled up on a hideous, but supremely comfortable plush chair. She opened her eyes and yawned, her pink tongue unfurling like a tendril from her mouth before lowering her head, apparently disinterested.
Fred shut and locked the door behind them, his breath making white puffs into the damp, frigid air. "Oh." His voice belied the fact that he'd been led to believe that the authoress they were going to meet was far more important than she apparently was.
"D'you think she's related to Anson Astrolabe, the singer?" Dean asked, his stick moving briskly in front of him as they walked the short distance to a discreet Apparition point.
"No, she's a Muggle, remember," Seamus replied. "Let me see yer book. You did transfigure it so it's regular print, not Braille, right?"
"Bloody hell, yes," Dean said, irritated.
"Just checking." Seamus found himself becoming peevish, feeding off of Dean's nervousness.
"She's just a Muggle author. Why are you two so keen on getting your books signed, anyway?" Fred asked as they went down a narrow alley, stopping behind an old phone box.
"She wrote Fang and Fury. It's brilliant!" Seamus said excitedly, pulling Dean to him in preparation for side-along Apparating away.
"I've read some. It's not that great," Fred insisted until Dean gave him a withering look. "Fine. You like it, that's great. Whatever lifts your robe."
With two nearly simultaneous popping sounds, they vanished, reappearing next to a tall line of shrubs. Supposedly they were a few blocks from the bookshop where Harry had told Dean that Astrid Astrolabe was having a book signing from one to four o'clock. Seamus had brought the first in the series, Midnight Succour, while Dean held his copy of book four, Sanguinary Feast. Fred was there purely out of curiosity, and, Seamus suspected, to get details so he could more effectively poke fun at them later on.
Seamus felt a thrill of excitement course through him once they saw the shop-front itself, and actual gooseflesh rose on his arms once they were inside. He saw a small table set up with a slender, red-haired woman sitting at it. There were a few people in the queue in front of them, but he'd timed their arrival so they would be there towards the end of the signing hoping they could take the mysterious author out for a drink or something. He wasn't entirely sure why he found himself so star struck over some bird who wrote off-the-wall stories about the love and catastrophes of a werewolf and vampire, but he and Dean had spent so much time reading and elaborating on them… and, he had to admit, the sex was pretty hot.
"There're some right mingers in the queue ahead of us," Fred confided to Dean, who smirked crookedly. "That said, I wouldn't be surprised if one of these two blokes lurking about this Astrid woman didn't try to chat you up. They're easy on the eyes."
Seamus' brow furrowed as he unzipped his coat, suddenly warm now that he was in the heat of the booksellers and framing shop. As Fred had pointed out, there were two men talking to each other not far from Astrid, one smoking and listening, the other consulting a leather-bound book of some sort.
"Your book, Dean, you're sure it's set right?" Seamus asked, even though he knew he should trust Dean to have transfigured the Braille.
"Yes. Quit asking!" Dean said angrily before changing his tone. "What does she look like?"
Seamus described her in hushed tones while Fred looked the two men over. The slightly shorter one, with piercing blue eyes and narrow lips, wasn't at all abashed in his favourable evaluation of the three of them. In fact, he appeared to be only half-listening to the other man, taking a drag on his cigarette and letting his gaze rove freely from Dean to Fred to Seamus, returning to Dean. Seamus felt flattered, but protective, and draped an arm behind Dean's waist. The author's voice carried to Seamus and his eyes widened in shock.
"She's a bloody Yank!" he said, not as quietly as he'd intended.
"Mmmmm. Subtle, Seamus," Fred said in a hushed voice.
"Shay," Dean growled. "Don't insult her."
"I thought she was British!" Seamus hissed defensively, and then the person in front of them moved away.
The author writing under the name Astrid Astrolabe, American Muggle whose characters Seamus and Dean had spent uncountable hours making fun of, avidly reading, wanking to and even once (though Seamus hadn't told Dean this) crying over, sat in front of them. To Seamus' eye, she looked as though she could use a stiff drink and a good night's rest, in that order.
"Hi! Thanks for coming," she said in her distinctive accent. "I'm so glad to get to meet so many of my fans. You guys are the best, truly. I can't thank you enough for your support since I started writing these."
Seamus just knew he was grinning like a loon, and he could hear Fred trying not to laugh. Dean of course didn't know exactly where she was sitting, and the two of them just stood for a moment, smiling down at her as she smiled back.
"Did you want to buy a copy for me to sign, or did you bring your own?" she asked, glossing over Seamus' temporary social ineptitude.
"I brought my own copy," he said, reaching into his coat and handing the well-worn copy of Midnight Succour to her.
"Oh, wow. This has had a lot of love," Astrid said, her smile bright as she thumbed the pages. "Or it got run over. What's your name? Or whose name did you want me to dedicate this to?"
"Me. Seamus," he replied. "Seamus Finnigan. Dean and I," he tilted his head to Dean, standing at his side, "we've read all your stuff. Made up our own stories, even."
Astrid gaped at that before grasping behind her to tug on the shirt of the tall chap wearing a hat and glasses.
"Oh my God! Jon— they're writing fanfic!!" Her face was so animated and her smile so wide that Seamus almost feared for her sanity for a moment.
"Really?" he answered, grinning. He also spoke with an American twang. "Excellent!"
"Fan what?" Seamus asked as Dean stretched out his hand in Astrid's direction, acting far more suave than Seamus was.
"Astrid? I'm Dean Thomas. And I'm blind, but I'd like to shake your hand."
"Oh my gosh," she said, flustered, shoving her chair back so fast it toppled over. "Shit! Oh, sorry. I'm just—" She paused to look at him, still clasping his hand, her flushed face now registering confusion. "How do you read these? I know nothing in this genre would ever get made into a book on tape, and certainly not into Braille." She blushed furiously. "Not with some of what Balthamos and Monarch get up to."
"I read them to him," Seamus said hurriedly, nudging at Dean to let go of her hand so he could get out his own book. "And my apologies, miss, I don't know what it is you're talking about. Dean and me, we've just made up some additional stories for some of the characters. Hope you don't mind."
"If you knew what kind of pervy stuff these two imagine, you should mind," Fred assured her, draping his arm behind both of them.
Astrid now appeared completely overwhelmed. "Wow. You… that's so great. You have no idea how great that is," she went on, fondling Seamus' book, her gaze now captivated by Fred. Shaking her head, she picked up a purple pen off of the table and made to sit down when Jon shouted at her about the overturned chair. He righted it and she sank down, looking back up at Seamus.
"It's Seamus?" she clarified, unable to keep the delight off of her face. "God, your accent. You could read the phone book to me and I'd be in seventh heaven."
As she wrote a couple of sentences, making happy cooing sounds to herself, Seamus wondered if that was a strange Muggle compliment or what. She signed Dean's copy once he got it out of his coat, then she looked expectantly at Fred.
"Oh, I'm just here to mind these two," Fred declared, patting Dean and Seamus on the hips. "I'm not much of a reader."
"Oh." Her attractive face fell, but she recovered quickly. Despite her enthusiasm, she still seemed to be at the rough end of a long day.
"Care to come to the pub with us for a drink?" Seamus said heedlessly, his heart stumbling madly over itself when her eyes lit up. This would be his chance! He could ask about the Lost Realm of Woe and why Balthamos was such a whinging pansy at times and how in fecking hell she — a woman — wrote hot sex with two guys. Or a guy and a wolf, on occasion, when Balthamos transformed and they got it on anyway. Bestiality wasn't a kink Seamus had ever thought about until he'd read the third book, but after the initial shock wore off, he found that he enjoyed those scenes.
"Oh, I'd love to," she said, sounding absolutely heartbroken. "You don't know how much. But I've got to catch a flight to Stornoway and I need to make sure I get on the right plane." She seemed so disappointed even Fred appeared to pity her a bit.
"Will you come back to England? After you write the next book?" Dean asked hopefully, caressing his book cover with his long fingers.
"If you three, well, two, are that into the books, you can have your own personal book signing, and I'll be ecstatic," she sighed, earning an eye roll from the Jon fellow. Seamus had now pegged him as her probable agent or publisher.
"You do have a few other fans waiting," Jon said pointedly, but not unkindly.
"Oh. Right. Well, such a pleasure. All of you," she said, still beaming and pink lingering on her cheeks. "If you like them, spread the word!"
"We will," Dean promised. "Friend of ours told Shay here about them, and this other guy is pretty famous."
"Great. Well, bye. Thanks again!" she said, her gaze lingering on Fred as she said under her breath, "Fanfic. Oral fanfic, anyway. Oh my God."
"That was entertaining," Fred snickered once they were back outside. "Anybody else you'd like to fawn all over today?"
"Piss off," Seamus retorted. "This is higher class than your signed nude pic of Oliver Wood."
"From what I've read of Astrid Astrolabe, my picture has more lasting entertainment value," Fred sneered.
"What'd she write in mine?" Dean asked, handing his book to Seamus to read.
"Merlin. Her handwriting's atrocious. Um, I think it says, 'To Dean, thank you for being such a memorable fan. Send me one of your stories!' And then there's a string of gobbledygook with some symbol in the middle. I don't know what the hell it means." He shrugged, placing the paperback into Dean's palm.
"And yours?" Fred prodded as he steered them into an inviting pub.
Seamus scrutinised the untidy print. "'To Seamus, thanks so much for loving the characters like I do. Hope to see you again after book six!' Then there's that same set of letters with a circle in the middle. Weird."
"You heart-breaker," Fred sniggered, guiding Dean past a fellow with a large belly. "Little does she know you'd never look at her twice if you didn't know she wrote about the perverse sex lives of werewolves and vampires."
"Shut up!" Seamus said in her defence, but he couldn't help grinning.
Maybe he would write down one of the scenarios he and Dean had come up with and owl it to her, or get Dean and Harry to help him send it through the Muggle post. Who knew; perhaps she'd even like the idea so much it'd end up in one of the next books. With that cheery thought, he slid next to Dean in the booth Fred had found, placed his hand on Dean's thigh, and ordered a celebratory Guinness from their surly server. Once they all had their drinks, he raised his glass.
"To unconventional love!" he proposed, noting the smile lurking under Fred's sigh, and Dean's nod of appreciation.
"I'll drink to that," Dean replied as Seamus and Fred clinked their glasses against his.
Fred winked discreetly before tossing back his shot of scotch. "Too right. You have some interesting ideas, Seamus," he said, gesturing to their waitress with the empty glass. "Glad I've been a part of them."
"Me too," Dean said, placing his hand on top of Seamus', which was still on his leg. "Not exactly the norm, but neither are we."
His book nestled to his chest, Seamus agreed. "Wish we could've convinced her to join us."
"Oh Seamus, give up," Fred moaned.
He started to go on to Dean about the two decent-looking blokes who'd been giving them the once-over in the bookshop. Seamus paid only half a mind, simply content to be where he was, letting his mind drift to an imaginary future, sharing plot ideas with the funny author who'd come all the way over from America. Seamus couldn't wait to tell Harry about how the book signing went. He squeezed Dean's hand and drank some more of his Guinness, amused at himself and the world in general. He'd be sure to have some good steamy scenes to suggest for her next time, he vowed to himself. Hell, maybe she'd include Dean and him in a story! Not as themselves, of course, but maybe characters resembling them…
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2007-07-31 03:16 am (UTC)i'm glad to see them all getting on together, the home etc. and seamus still has his demons to fight with, but yeah - they'll do well!
thanks for this little journey. i've really enjoyed the ride.
(no subject)
Date: 2007-07-31 01:18 pm (UTC)Yes, Astrid, her manager and the bloke smoking in the bookshop don't represent anybody I know in real life... :cough:
Yes, Seamus still has some stuff to work through, but that's the way of things. Ultimately I'm sure they'll find the benefits outweigh the complications.
I'm so glad that you've been along for the ride! And Seamus fixed Seth, so we can imagine holding on to him...
(no subject)
Date: 2007-07-31 07:15 am (UTC)I've really enjoyed this story, Thev -- so glad you wrote it even if the rarepair stuff tends to get relatively little love.
(no subject)
Date: 2007-07-31 01:20 pm (UTC)My stepdad gave me that idea, of the booksigning. I couldn't stop laughing while writing it, seeing me there, with Wolfie as my manger, and Callum working (yes, had to have three cameos in that scene alone). I'd be totally flattered if I ever found out I had a fandom from original fic!!
I'm so pleased that you've enjoyed this story. Yeah, it's definitely in the rarepair/trio category, but to me that just means that the bar is set higher. I'm glad that you think I've reached the mark.
(no subject)
Date: 2007-07-31 12:15 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-07-31 01:22 pm (UTC)Glad that you felt overall that it was believable, and that the hot bits were, indeed, hot! I really do enjoy putting in the adult stuff in the fics, though I like the plotty and character-evolution parts just as much. Thank you for reading!
(no subject)
Date: 2007-08-22 11:29 pm (UTC)I'm here from a rec by
This is a really great and rich universe you've set up here. The characteriations are lovely, and the story was just great!
I haven't really read much Seamus or Dean centric fic prior to this, but if there is any thing else like this in the genre I think I just might have to start:)
(no subject)
Date: 2007-08-23 11:47 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-10-22 08:13 am (UTC)e got all horny and really wanted something besides a wank. He wanted somebody with a cock, which I happen to have, so here we are," Fred said in a roughened baritone. "But I'm sure now that you're back, Dean can have something else he really wants. Your arse. Oh holy Merlin fuck, so good," he moaned.
Seamus couldn't help chortling as he undid his flies, reaching into his boxers to stroke his awakening erection. "'S that true, Dean?"
hot
"I like that!" Seamus exclaimed, moving to stand as he heard Dean begin to take off his clothes. He gave up keeping his eyes shut, regarding Fred as he sprawled on the tan sofa. "Can I lie back on you? I'd like to be in-between you, but…" He gestured at Fred's cock, now mostly flaccid and curving against his inner thigh.
"If you're careful of my bits, yes, you can." Fred's smile was both warm and knowing, but Seamus didn't mind that some of his neediness was so transparent.
awwww love that part
"Get up here and fuck me," Seamus said before he realised how belligerent that sounded. "Please."
Dean laughed, his stomach muscles contracting into a ridged pattern as he did. "I wasn't offended. And I'll take care of you, all right."
*snorts*
"If you knew what kind of pervy stuff these two imagine, you should mind," Fred assured her, draping his arm behind both of them.
lol
"It's Seamus?" she clarified, unable to keep the delight off of her face. "God, your accent. You could read the phone book to me and I'd be in seventh heaven."
lol
"That was entertaining," Fred snickered once they were back outside. "Anybody else you'd like to fawn all over today?"
"Piss off," Seamus retorted. "This is higher class than your signed nude pic of Oliver Wood."
"From what I've read of Astrid Astrolabe, my picture has more lasting entertainment value," Fred sneered.
LOL
aww loved how they all said i love you at the end
great story honey. your an excellant writer:)
angela
(no subject)
Date: 2007-10-24 02:05 am (UTC)I'm pleased you felt it was a good read. :)
(no subject)
Date: 2007-10-28 02:29 am (UTC)*runs off for more of your work* I think grad school might have to take a rest this weekend. ;)
(no subject)
Date: 2007-10-28 02:23 pm (UTC)Thank you so much for reading my stories and letting me know your thoughts on them!
(no subject)
Date: 2008-12-25 03:50 am (UTC)To put it mildly, I really really really liked this. Dean/Seamus is a rarepair I love, though rarely get to read good fics about, especially long ones. And adding Fred in there (especially so believably, after George had died *sniff*) must have been a challenge!!
But it worked out great, and honestly the whole story was engrossing. I couldn't stop reading til the very end! I loved it, especially the domestic parts. There is too much I liked to quote it all! The accident on Seth broke my heart, and also the fight... Your attention to detail and the work you put into it really showed. The three-way relationship dynamic (the jealousy, reluctance, etc) seems really realistic. AND DID I MENTION the secks was soooo hot, and perfectly written, at just the right moments in the fic. <3 Also, I am glad that Dean got to be happy in life despite being blind, and Seamus then Fred showed him he could be loved.
Another thing that made me really happy was that the Harry/Ron wasn't just a thrown-in last minute pairing. Harry & Ron had their own dynamic. It was nice to see them having matured a bit - together. And I really liked their choice of jobs and personalities in this fic. Harry as a photographer for a gay mag! <3 and Ron as a Healer seems very appropriate, given how much love and fussiness he received all his life from his family *coughMollycough*, I am sure he would want to give back in some way to the community. I liked the scenes at Ron & Harry's house! Very well written, and again it didn't feel like something "just thrown in" but very well thought out. I am also glad that Molly was accepting of the three of them at the end (the scarves being symbolic of that I gathered?) - but by contrast George not understanding as much. This made it really realistic.
OMGGG, I ranted so much. I am so sorry!!!! Everything I wanted to say throughout all 10 chapters was bottled up until now, I guess. But - Good job at writing a wonderful heartwarming story, and I hope you keep writing. Your style is very natural and easy on the brain. I would never be able to construct such a masterpiece myself. I love the Dean/Seamus/Fred triad now XD. I doubt you would consider it but a sequel to this would be amazingggg. Have you written anything else? pleasepleaseplease say yes. <3
Much love for this fic. and Kudos. forgive me for taking up so much space in the comments haaaa. *goes to check if you've written anything else*
(no subject)
Date: 2008-12-25 05:43 pm (UTC)No, I'd not thought of a sequel for this- there certainly could be a lot more to explore with them, though I don't think they should be in any more accidents! :P I have written a lot of Harry Potter fanfiction in my day, but this story stands on its own.
Thank you so much for your marvelous review, you've really made my day!! ♥