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favefandomimagines · 3 years

Text

I Bought A Ring (e.b.)

Summary: Abby’s back and Buck doesn’t know how to handle the news. And neither do you.

AN: i’m still PISSED that abby came back even if only for an episode, my poor buck was so hurt ): this was something i had deep in my drafts and now that buck is blowing up it seemed like a good time to post it!

there is a buck fic similar to this and i just wanna say that i did not copy or steal the idea. i’ve had this in my drafts for months since season 3 ended so no one stole anyone’s idea! if you wanna check out their fic their username is @lotsoflovefromlea and the fic is titled ‘Second Best’ it’s really really good

You didn’t think you’d have to face the day when Buck’s past came back to haunt him. You were hoping it would stay in the past and you would be his future. But life has a funny way of putting us to the test.

After the train crash, and Buck saw Abby again, he had been acting distant. Distant enough for you to notice that something was wrong. It wasn’t hard to notice, especially when the two of you live together.

He would rarely talk when you had the same shift at the 118, there was no conversation during dinner and he’d come to bed long after you had already fallen asleep.

It had gotten to the point where you didn’t even remember the last time he kissed you or touched you. And you had enough of the maltreatment.

You exited the shower and saw him standing in the kitchen, leaning against the counter. You walked down the stairs and stood across from him, the tension between the two of you painfully obvious.

“What’s been going on with you?” You asked, breaking the ice. “What do you mean?” He asked, not meeting your gaze. “Seriously? Buck, you’ve been acting like I killed your dog for three weeks since the train crash. What the hell is going on?” You explained.

Buck sighed before looking up at you. He knew he couldn’t keep secrets from you. Including ones that could possibly change your relationship.

“Abby reached out to me. She wanted to meet up to talk.” He said. Buck could tell by the way your right eyebrow was raised and your eyes narrowed that you were not happy. “Really? And you went?” You asked. “Yeah.” Buck answered quietly.

You laughed bitterly before walking around the counter back towards the stairs. “God, you just can’t seem to let her go, can you?” You started. “It’s been, what? Two years? Two years since she left you for her ‘Eat, Pray, Love’ experience and got engaged? And who was the one who never left your side? Me. It was me, Evan and even now, you can’t seem to realize how terrible she was to you. Face it, you were her midlife crisis and you fell in love with her and never fell back out. All while making me fall in love with you.” You finished.

Sure you were a tad bit cruel, but it was what he needed to hear. No one wanting to be the one who had to pop his perfect bubble when it came to Abby.

“I stayed with you when you were suing the department for christ sake! And I can’t do it anymore, Evan.” You added. There it was again. His dreaded first name. The name you never used unless you were beyond angry with him. And he hated hearing it come from your lips. “Y/N, what do you mean?” He asked.

Fear was coursing through his body as he waited for you to finally leave him. After everything he put you through, Abby was the last straw.

“I mean, maybe we should take a break. Until you figure out what it is you really want.” You answered. It wasn’t something you wanted nor did you think it would ever happen. “No. No, no, Y/N, don’t do this.” He begged, walking towards you. “I have too. Since she came back, this relationship has been one sided and I don’t deserve that.” You said.

“Please, Y/N, I love you.” Buck told you. “Do you? Because you have a funny way of showing it.” You replied. You swiftly grabbed your keys and your purse and made a path towards the exit. “So this is it? You’re breaking up with me?” Buck asked, causing you to stop.

“I don’t want to. But you seem to have unresolved feelings for Abby and you can’t claim to love one person wholeheartedly when you clearly don’t. Figure it out, Buck. But remember who was here when no one else was.” You answered before leaving the house.

You didn’t know where else to go after you left. So you decided to go to Bobby and Athena’s. Bobby was like a father to you when you joined the 118 and you trusted him more than you trusted most people.

After trying to straighten yourself up and wipe the tears from your face, you got out of the car and headed to the front door. You knocked a couple of times and waited for the door to open.

When it did, Athena’s face softened when she saw you and instantly knew something was wrong. “Y/N? What’s wrong? What happened?” She asked, ushering you inside. “I didn’t know where else to go.” You answered.

Bobby, wondering who was at the door, turned the corner and saw you standing in the entryway. “Y/N, what’s wrong?” He asked. “Buck and I got into a fight. He went to meet up with Abby and he didn’t tell meand I just, I just don’t understand why he won’t let her go. Am I not enough?” You explained.

Athena shushed you and pulled you into a hug to comfort you. She knew Buck was stubborn but not so much that you felt you had to leave. Bobby was furious. He hated seeing you so upset and he was frustrated with the young man for making you think you weren’t enough for him.

After a few minutes, Athena made up the guest bedroom for you and said you could stay as long as you needed. But you hoped it wouldn’t have to be for long.

Bobby arrived at the station in search for Buck and found him sulking while Hen and Chimney were grilling him about his mood. “What’s wrong with you today?” Chimney asked. “Him and Y/N got in a fight last night and she walked out on him.” Bobby answered for him.

Buck looked up at his captain with wide eyes, wondering how he knew about the prior events. “She stayed at mine and Athena’s last night.” He added. Buck let out a sigh of relief, mainly because he was worried sick about you. You didn’t answer a single one of his calls or texts and he didn’t know where you went off to.

“Why did she walk out on you?” Hen asked. “Because I may have went to meet up with Abby the other day. And apparently I had been acting distant towards Y/N and she confronted me.” Buck explained. “Seriously? You still have feelings for Abby?” Hen asked. “No, Hen-” Buck tried to explain but was interrupted by his coworkers.

“Y/N is the perfect girl for you and you’re throwing her away for someone who left you?” She continued. “Hen,” Buck started. “You’re stupid but not this stupid.” She said. “Hen! I don’t have feelings for Abby anymore. I wanted to give her a chance to explain why she left and to thank her. Because if she wouldn’t have left, I wouldn’t have met Y/N.” Buck interrupted.

“And I,” He started before he stopped himself, not sure if he wanted to tell everyone his secret. “You what?” Eddie asked. Buck looked up at his friends before sighing. “I bought a ring.” He answered. “Wait, what?” Chimney asked. “I bought a ring. I was going to propose but then I got all in my head after Abby showed up. I thought Y/N would say no and she’d leave me just like Abby did.” Buck explained.

The rest of the 118 crew was silent as they looked down at Buck. Hen sat down across from him before speaking. “That girl is head over heels in love with you, Buck. She has been since the first time she met you and the last thing she would do is leave you like Abby did. Though, because of Abby, she felt she had no choice.” She said.

“I need to get her back. I didn’t even know what to do this morning without her.” Buck said. “When does she come in for her shift?” He asked Bobby. “She was supposed to be here by now. She left before me.” The man answered.

Before anyone could form a theory about your whereabouts, the bell went off signaling they had a call.

They soon arrived to the scene of a car accident, one car completely flipped upside down.

The 118 stopped short, however, when they noticed who’s car was upside down. It was yours that was hit by a guy texting and driving and ran a red light.

“Y/N?” Buck called, running to the driver side door. “Buck, you’re too close to this.” Bobby stopped him. “We’re all too close to this, Bobby.” Buck rebutted. Bobby looked at Athena and gestured for her to keep Buck away from the scene. “Keep him away from her.” He instructed his. wife.

Eddie began trying to get the door off and Hen and Chimney noticed you were still conscious, struggling to get out and stay awake.

“Y/N, can you hear me?” Hen asked. “Yeah. I-I can hear you.” You stammered. “I have a piece of shrapnel between the third and fourth intercostal space. Mild to severe concussion and around three broken ribs, and a possible pulmonary contusion.” You told them.

Both EMTs were surprised that you could still diagnose and recognize your symptoms while having a concussion and actively bleeding.

Once the door was off the car, Hen and Chimney set down the backboard and Eddie began cutting your seatbelt.

“Where’s Buck?” You asked him. “Bobby won’t let him help. He’s too close to this one.” Eddie answered. “Aren’t you all though?” You joked. Eddie laughed dryly as the seatbelt was cut free. “Can you move?” He asked.

You looked down at the piece of metal from the seat and back up at him. “You have to pull it out.” You told him. “Y/N,” Eddie started. “Eddie, you have to pull it out or I won’t be able to move. I have a concussion, I’m already bleeding and in about five minutes I’m going to pass out. I will slowly bleed out from the inside if I don’t move. Pull the damn thing out.” You snapped.

Eddie looked at you for a moment before glancing over at Buck, arguing with Athena. As Eddie pulled the piece of metal out of your side, Buck broke free of Athena’s grasp and fell to his friend’s side.

“Y/N, baby, are you okay?” He asked frantically. “I’m going to pass out in a couple of seconds so I’m sorry, Buck. For what happened last night.” You spoke, your breathing becoming shallower. “Buck we gotta move her.” Eddie told him.

Your eyes fell closed slowly and the heart rate monitor attached to you started beeping rapidly. “We gotta get her out now.” Hen instructed. Bobby pulled Buck back as he watched in horror while his friends began giving you CPR once they pulled you from the car.

Your heart beat thankfully went back to normal and Chimney and Hen loaded you into the back of the ambulance.

Buck took the liberty of joining you considering he was your emergency contact, having no other family in LA.

Once the ambulance arrived at the hospital, Buck, Chimney and Hen were forced to stay at the ER bay, not being allowed to go with you.

Buck watched as the doctors took you away and this quickly became his worst nightmare. What if you didn’t make it? What if the last conversation you had was a fight?

Bobby’s hand rested on Buck’s shoulder as they all watched you disappear down the hallway.

It had been hours. Hours of the 118 sitting in the waiting room for you to come out of surgery. Buck was a nervous wreck and no amount of consoling from Maddie or Eddie made it any better. He knew she should have told you about meeting with Abby but he was afraid of ruining everything. But not telling you made it ten times worse.

“Evan Buckley?” A doctor called, alerting the entire crew. “Th-That’s me. I’m Evan Buckley.” Buck replied. “Y/N is going to be okay. We repaired the damage to her lung as well as the other internal damage she received from the car crash. She still had a major concussion and she’ll be out of commission for a while, but she got incredibly lucky.” The doctor explained.

Buck let out a very visible sigh of relief, as did everyone else. “Can I see her?” Buck asked. “She’s in the ICU so only a couple of people at a time.” The doctor said. “You go, Buck. We’ll see her when she’s moved to a normal room.” Bobby told him.

He nodded his head and followed the doctor to your room. He saw you lying in the hospital bed, multiple IVs in your hands and arms and an oxygen tube in your nose.

Your eyes were still closed but he could tell you were awake, though hearing the doctor’s voice alerted you.

“Y/N, someone’s here to see you.” You turned your head slightly and saw Buck standing in the doorway. “Hi.” You said quietly, your voice still hoarse from the breathing tube in surgery.

Buck sat in the chair next to you, his eyes red and watering. “I am so sorry, Y/N,” He whispered. “I should have told you about Abby but I met with her to get closure. And to thank her because if she wouldn’t have left me, I wouldn’t have fallen in love with you.” He added.

“It’s okay. I should have let you explained.” You replied. “I have something else to tell you.” Buck said. “Oh no, now what?” You joked. “I bought a ring.” He said. “Like, a ring ring?” You questioned. “Yes, a ring ring.” Buck laughed. “Where is it?” You asked.

Buck let go of your hand for a moment and fished the piece of jewelry out of his pocket.

“You have to put it on for me.” You said. Buck looked at you in disbelief as he smiled, sliding the ring on your left finger. “I’m assuming that’s a yes.” He said. “Of course it is. I’d be stupid to say no to you.” You told him with a smile.

Buck squeezed your hand gently as he looked at the ring on your finger. “I never want to come that close to losing you ever again.” He muttered. “You won’t. I don’t plan on leaving you for a long time.” You said. “Good. Because I really don’t know what I’d do without you.” Buck said.

He leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on your forehead as you looked down at the ring. “You did a good job.” You commented. Buck laughed at your comment, causing a smile to grace your face. “Hen and Maddie helped.” He said. “I figured as much.” You replied.

The rest of the evening, or whatever time of day you thought it was, Buck stayed by your side. Even when the doctors were running their tests and looking over your condition. After almost losing you, there was no way you were going to get rid of Buck even for a moment.

#imagine #imagines #911 imagine #911 fox #911 lone star #evan buckley #evan buckley imagine #evan buckley x reader #evan buckley oneshot #oliver stark

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writerpeach · 3 years

Text

Blind Date

LOONA Choerry X Male Reader

8153 words

---

Read on AFF

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“Oppa, how long has it been since you’ve dated anyone?” Son Hyejoo asked, seemingly out of the blue as she loudly slurped on her milkshake, stirring the leftover contents with her large straw.

“I don’t know, Hyejoo. I don’t keep track of things like that.”

Hyejoo pointed her strawberry milkshake directly at you, unsatisfied with your answer. “Then that means it’s been too long,” she said, her triangle lips forming a pout.

You rubbed your forehead, knowing once she brought something up she wasn’t going to drop it.

“Why do I need to date anyone when I’m lucky enough to rail you every day?” you playfully replied, causing her nearly to choke on her frozen drink.

“Oppa, not so loud!” she said, kicking your shin. “I won’t be around all the time now that I’m starting a new job. And you need some variety in your life. You’re going to get tired of fucking me.”

“That’s impossible.”

You couldn’t say you agreed with her on that. Hyejoo was the perfect friend with benefits, beautiful big tits and perfect thick thighs, the prettiest mouth and the tightest pussy that you spilled yourself inside several times a day, you couldn’t imagine needing anything else.

“I know just the person to set you up with, oppa. She’s single and one of my closest friends, I think you’ll like her.”

“That’s really not necessary-”

Hyejoo wasn’t going to take no for an answer, refusing to back down as she grabbed her phone and swiped through it.

Finding what she was looking for she showed you her screen, an equally gorgeous girl that looked the same age as her with innocent eyes and a sweet smile.

“She’s cute, but you really don’t have to-”

“Nonsense, oppa. It’s time for you to stop being so needy and find a girlfriend,” Hyejoo said.

“Needy? Unless I’m forgetting something you’re the one who loves slobbering on my cock first thing in the morning,” you said.

“Hey! It’s called breakfast, and it’s not my fault you get so hard in the morning.”

“Actually, I’m pretty sure it is,” you said, as you were met with another kick to the shins.

“Ow!”

“It’s settled, I’ll set you two up on a blind date.”

“Blind date? But you just showed me her picture,” you said, tilting your head in confusion.

Hyejoo sighed audibly. “You’re hopeless, oppa. Don’t you want to know what she looks like?”

“O-of course, but-”

“No buts, oppa. Except hers, her butt is very nice,” she giggled, finishing up her milkshake.

“Don’t worry, she’s very sweet, I think you’ll get along well. Her name is Yerim and she always puts out.”

✦✦

“You look good, oppa,” Hyejoo said as she fixed the collar of your shirt.

You wiped your sweaty palms on the back of your pants as you took one more look in the mirror

“You smell good too. I told you that cologne was a panty-dropper," she said as her lips curled in a smirk.

You sighed loudly. “Hyejoo, I’m not meeting this girl just to get laid. You wanted me to get a girlfriend, right?”

"No, I'm pretty sure you wanted this, actually-"

Hyejoo pressed a finger against your lips. "Shush, oppa. Are you nervous?”

“Y-yes, it’s been years since I’ve been on a date.”

“Wanna have a quickie before? Burn all that stress all inside me?” Hyejoo jokingly said.

“...Are you serious?”

“Of course not, you can’t be dependent on me anymore, oppa. Plus, you need to save that load for Yerim.”

“Hyejoo!”

She smiled mischievously and patted your bottom, making sure nothing was out of place for your date.

“Have some confidence oppa, you’ll do great. Yerim will love you. Now get going, you don’t want to be late.”

✦✦

It was unusual for Hyejoo to put in this much effort, typically spending her days lazily on the couch checking her phone.

Everything was planned carefully. Hyejoo had picked the restaurant based on your favorite foods, the time, and the day, even showing up to your place an hour before to make sure you looked your best.

Keeping up with the notion of this being mostly a blind date, Hyejoo didn’t tell you much about Yerim. They shared the same age, although Yerim was months younger. They had a similar body type and lighter hair, and if you didn’t know any better you could have mistaken her for a younger sister.

You were still nervous about the date, but trusted Hyejoo’s judgement and hoped you were about to waste this opportunity that you had been given to meet a new girl. You took a deep breath as you stepped out of the taxi and headed into the restaurant, trying to calm your shaky hands.

The restaurant was larger than expected looking from the outside, equipped with a bar and seating area as you scanned around for your date.

“Good evening, sir. Do you have a reservation?” One of the hostesses asked, but before you had a chance to answer you heard an adorable voice interrupting.

“Over here!”

You were quickly blindsided by a cute girl that matched the picture that Hyejoo had shown you, abruptly wrapping her arms around in a tight hug.

She had a petite frame with brown hair, a tint lighter than Hyejoo and wore a modest black dress and heels with her hair styled perfectly.

“You’re Hyejoo’s friend right?” she asked, the smile on her face brighter than the sun.

“It would be a little awkward if I wasn’t now wouldn’t it?” you teased, gently nodding in response.

“Oh, well if you weren’t then I would just be hugging a cute stranger,” she said. “I’m Yerim.”

Cute? You thought to yourself as you were broadsided by this ball of happiness. “Come on, let’s eat!” she said, grabbing your hand as the hostess led you to your table.

You were both seated at a romantic candle-lit booth, letting Yerim sit down first as you took in the atmosphere of the restaurant. Hyejoo had picked the perfect place.

The waiter handed out menus and filled glasses to the brim with ice water as you looked over the laundry list of food, unsure what you were in the mood for.

“What’s good here?” Yerim asked the waiter, batting her eyelashes as her vocal tone grew higher.

“Our sushi and steak platter is very popular here. We have several different types to try paired with our signature sauces.”

“Steak? I love steak!” Yerim said, her mouth salivating just thinking about it.

“Me too. And sushi,” you said, as Yerim nodded to the waiter.

“I’ll bring it right out then,” the waiter said, scurrying away with a polite bow.

“I can’t wait!” Yerim said, licking her lips as she carefully unfolded and placed her napkin on her lap.

“It’s nice to meet you. Hyejoo has told me a lot about you!” she said, keeping a beautiful smile etched on her lips.

“Oh, has she? That seems a bit unfair, she didn’t tell me much about you. You’re much cuter than the picture she showed me.”

Yerim giggled as she opened her straw, placing it inside her glass and playing around with the ice cubes before taking a small sip, careful not to mess up her lip gloss.

The two girls were quite the contrast to each other. Hyejoo wasn’t one to care about most things, you found it difficult to pry her away from her gaming chair for anything but food and sex. Yerim on the other hand was hanging on your every word, finding any word you said the most interesting thing in the world without a hint of dishonesty.

Quicker than expected the food arrived, and you both dove in without hesitation, armed with chopsticks like a hunter stalking a prey.

The two opposing foods meshed perfectly. Raw sushi made with fish so fresh it might as well have been served directly out of the ocean, complimenting tender meat that literally melted in your mouth, cooked to perfection and seasoned, salted without excess. You swore you heard Yerim moaning out loud as she took her first bite.

Sharing food with a girl so full of energy was a wonderful experience, her company only adding to the delicious flavor. You were so focused on the fresh sushi that you barely had the capacity to register Yerim unapologetically taking the last piece of steak quicker than a deadly samurai and shoving it into her mouth proudly.

“Ah, you really must be Hyejoo’s friend,” you said sarcastically, frowning at her meat thievery.

"Mmm! There's nothing I love more than juicy meat in my mouth," Yerim said, without a hint of subtlety to her words.

She shamelessly went in for another piece of sushi, trying to add another piece of loot to her food heist as you quickly blocked her chopsticks with your own, denying her the satisfaction as you claimed the last spicy tuna roll for your own.

“Hey! That one was my favorite!” she protested, pursing her lips as her cheeks puffed as she watched the claimed prize disappearing into your mouth.

“Mine too! It was delicious,” you boasted, wiping your lips with the cloth napkin before folding it back on your lap. “I’m sorry, it was rude of me not to ask if you wanted the last piece.”

Yerim wasn’t one to stay mad for long, unfolding her arms as the signature brightness returned to her face. “The steak was better anyways,“ she said, giggling and sticking her tongue out.

Time flew by as you learned more about Yerim, hours had felt like minutes as they passed,

ending the meal with the biggest slice of cheesecake you had ever seen.

The waiter came by to drop off the bill as you scooped it up, not bothering to look at the total as the time spent with such an adorable human was priceless.

“Such a gentleman, aren’t you?” Yerim said, and you couldn’t quite tell if she was teasing you or not.

Leaving a generous tip, you walked Yerim outside the restaurant, both of you equally full from both the delicious food company as the temperature had dropped, the cool crisp air blowing every which way.

“Thank you for a fun night, Yerim. I’ll let Hyejoo know she picked well.”

Yerim’s cheeks reddened and tilted her head down shyly. “Ending the night so soon?” Yerim said, the disappointment in her voice clear as the night sky.

“Well, it’s getting late and I wouldn’t want to keep you up.”

“I don’t have a bedtime, silly,” she said, hitting your shoulder as the wind blew through her beautiful hair. The moonlight bouncing off her skin made her look even more gorgeous, illuminating her milky white skin.

Yerim closed the distance little by little until your noses were almost touching, letting you see the color in her beautiful round eyes.

“I had a really fun night too, but it doesn’t have to end here you know...” Yerim said, giving you a quick peck on your cheek.

Yerim was practically throwing herself at you as you gulped, swallowing down saliva nervously.

“Aren’t you going to invite a cute girl back to your place?” she abruptly said, taking charge of the situation.

You snapped out of it and weren’t going to let Hyejoo’s efforts go to waste. “O-of course. Would you like to go back to my place, Miss Yerim?”

“Of course! I thought you would never ask!”

The short taxi ride back to your place was filled with palpable sexual tension, neither of you muttering a word since you both left the restaurant. Yerim opted for her actions to speak for her as she rubbed your thigh the whole time.

You unlocked the door to your apartment and held the door open for Yerim as she stepped inside, swiveling her head as she looked around. She kicked her heels off and rubbed her feet, happy to be freed of them as her bare feet walked on the carpet.

“You have such a nice place. It’s cleaner than I expected.”

You didn’t know what that meant as you got comfortable, slipping your shoes off as you grabbed a bottle of water out of the fridge.

“Would you like something to drink?”

“No, thank you. I’m fine,” she replied, awkwardly standing in the middle of the living room until you gestured for her to take a seat. Yerim sat down excitedly, pulling her dress down and crossed her legs as you sat down next to her.

Yerim turned her body towards you and placed a hand on your knee, her full attention yours for the taking as her bright doe eyes lit up.

“This was the first blind date I’ve been on,” Yerim said, leaning in close enough that you could smell her cherry shampoo.

“Me too. Did you have a good time?”

“Yes! I’m still full from all that steak.”

You felt weak in the knees at Yerim’s beauty, the possibility that such a beautiful girl existed seemed to be good to be true. You hesitated to make the first move, but Yerim had it covered as she mounted your lap, wrapping her legs around your waist.

You felt the electricity in the air as Yerim’s lips brushed against yours, meeting for the first time as the sweet taste of her entered your mouth, reminding you of an unforgettable candy.

“You’re so pretty,” you said, the kiss breaking after just a few seconds, leaving you longing for more after just a tease.

“Keep kissing me and I’ll let you see how pretty the rest of me is,” Yerim said, once again without any subtlety. Your hands snaked around her slim waist as your lips met again, her tongue introducing itself and playing around with your own.

“Not bad,” Yerim said as she came up for air, her eyes drunk on lust already. This close you were able to distinguish all the features of her face, her dead drop gorgeous eyes, her cute nose, her luscious lips, it was all a complete package.

“You’re really pretty, Yerim,” you said, complimenting her again as her face reddened and the pale color of her cheeks faded.

“T-thank you,” Yerim said, running a hand through her hair, trying to calm herself down.

“I wasn’t planning on dating anytime soon, but Hyejoo talked me into it. I even got this new dress for the occasion.”

“It looks really good on you.”

“Thank you! I think it’ll look even better on your floor, though,” Yerim said, trying to keep a straight face and failing miserably.

You had no response in return, suddenly rendered speechless but her forwardness.

“It’s my first time. You’ll be gentle, won’t you?” Yerim asked, the innocence in her sparkling eyes shining through.

“W-wait, really?” you asked. Hyejoo didn’t certainly mention something so vital, and Yerim had just dropped this so casually on you that you didn’t know how to react.

“Isn’t it every guy's fantasy to pop a girl’s cherry?” Yerim asked, as she bit the tip of her fingernail.

You scrambled for words to find when Yerim began giggling uncontrollably, trying to save the last of her charade as she placed her hand over her mouth.

“You’re cute when you’re nervous,” Yerim said, as you felt all the color fading from your face.

“Don’t worry, I’m not actually a virgin. I am a good girl though,” she said, as she started grinding herself on your lap.

“Are you? I don’t think this is what good girls do, Yerim,” you said, grabbing her waist to hold her in place.

“Of course! I’m always a good girl…”

“We’ll see about that.”

Yerim’s expression never changed, her eyes keeping the same innocent look in them as if trying to convince you of her words. You moved her hair out of the way and kissed her neck in several places, diving in and gently sucking on the sensitive skin that you found there, causing Yerim to gasp loudly.

“Take me to the bedroom. I think you’re getting excited,” she teased, as blood had begun flowing to your pants, causing an erection to form that she had felt.

“Are you sure about this?” you asked, her gorgeous face a hair's breadth away as you lose yourself in her eyes.

Yerim nodded without hesitation, cupping both sides of your face and swiping her tongue against your lips, taking one more tender kiss, the taste of her lips lingering.

“Yes, I want it. I want you to fuck me,“ she whispered into your ear, her expression finally changing as her eyes opened wide. The innocence was gone, swallowed up by lust as she dismounted your lap and stretched her arm out as you led her to the bedroom.

“Wow, so this must be where you and Hyejoo have all your fun together?” she said, exploring the large bedroom with her eyes.

“Here, the bathroom, the shower, the couch, the kitchen counter…”

Yerim feigned surprise for a moment, stopping at the foot of the bed. “Where are we going to have fun together?”

“Wherever you would like.”

“We can start here,” Yerim said, closing the distance and went in for another makeout session as her slender fingers unbuttoned your shirt, fingers tracing your chest.

“Hyejoo left the part out about you having such a nice body,” Yerim said as she planted a wet kiss on your chest, slipping your shirt off your body as she tossed it away.

“Can’t let her spoil everything about me can we?” you said, exploring her body with your hands, cupping her backside with both hands and grabbing a handful of cheeks.

“It’s my turn then,” Yerim said, turning away from you and letting you see the backside of her little black dress. “Help a girl out?”

You let out a deep breath as you approached, grabbing the top of her zipper’s dress and pulled it down in one smooth movement, exposing her bare back. Yerim turned back around with the shyest of smiles, slipping the dress off her body as it piled at her feet.

Yerim rested her hands on her wide hips, presenting her tight body that was more mouthwatering than the meal you shared earlier. Underneath her dress she had on a cute purple bra, showing a hint of cleavage with matching underwear as she spun around and let you see her the thin piece of fabric nestled in between her delicious asscheeks.

The curves of her body competed with that of Hyejoo minus a smaller chest, competing where it mattered with delicious succulent thighs that you couldn’t wait to get your hands on.

“Like what you see?”

“I do. Is this what good girls wear?” you asked as you pulled her in close, hands wandering around before finding her backside again, squeezing her ass firmly.

“Y-yes! I’ll show you what a good girl I can be,”

Her eyes were filled with excitement as she kept them on you the entire time as she slowly lowered to her knees, staring at the bulge in your pants now at eye level.

“Can I?” Yerim asked with widened eyes, demonstrating her ability to wait for permission as she patiently waited. You gave the go ahead with a simple nod, and she swiftly undid your pants, yanking them down to your ankles as the bulge in your boxers became more prominent.

Yerim was quick to free your shaft from its constraints, hooking her fingers into the waistband of your boxers as she divested them from your body. Blood had rushed to your throbbing shaft as it was freed, almost smacking Yerim’s adorable face as it was met with the cool air.

“Wow...” Yerim said as your revealed cock met her gaze, hungrily admiring every last inch of it as she couldn’t keep her mouth closed. Her fingers wrapped around it, forming a tight fist and pumped up and down slowly, precum dripping out of your slit already as you throbbed in her hand.

Yerim had no time to waste, giving a few soft kisses on your tip as she flattened her tongue at the base of your cock, painting slow upward strokes with her wet tongue, swirling against your leaking slit and collecting every drop.

“Mmm, yummy!” she said, and without hesitation she parted her lips with your shaft, taking you into the warmth of her mouth, sucking on your swollen sensitive tip.

“Oh... f-fuck,” you moaned out, your toes digging into the carpet as the pleasure took over, shooting up your spine. Yerim’s mouth was nothing but pleasurable, delivering radiating warmth as her puckered lips wrapped around your shaft, feeling like the softest silk as she applied a delicate suction and hollowed her squishy cheeks.

You looked up at the lights for a second, trying to distract yourself from the intense feeling of Yerim’s lips sucking you off. It didn’t help much, especially when you felt her warm mouth unexpectedly move deeper, causing you to moan loudly.

You almost regretted looking down, watching as Yerim bobbed her head up and down as she slurped on your shaft, retreating her mouth back when half of you entered her mouth as her playful tongue ran along the sensitive underside of your cock.

“God, that feels amazing,” you said, placing a hand on the back of her head, both to guide her movements and to give yourself a necessary outlet. Yerim took this as encouragement, swiftly sliding her lips up and down your throbbing shaft, leaving behind a trail of glistening warm saliva in her wake.

Yerim looked up, showing the hunger in her eyes, spitting leftover saliva as she furiously stroked your cock.

“Does that feel good, daddy?” she asked, your cock twitching in her small hand, answering for you. Hyejoo had told her one of your little secrets it seemed.

“Please fuck my face, daddy. Fill my throat with this nice cock,” Yerim pleaded, letting any last remnants of innocence slip away.

It was hard not to be taken aback by her filthy words that didn’t match her cute features, but you’d be lying if the juxtaposition didn’t send your arousal level skyrocketing.

Taking control of your shaft you rubbed your tip on her soft warm lips, pushing yourself back into the intoxicating warmth of her mouth. You guided Yerim deeper by pushing the back of her head down until her lips met the base of your shaft. With minimal effort you entered her throat, hitting the back of it as it tightened around you and caused her to gag loudly. You instinctively began to withdraw, but the look in her eyes suggested otherwise.

You grabbed both sides of her head, moving gently as strands of dark hair wrapped around your fingers as you thrusted in and out of her warm mouth, gradually testing her limits. Yerim kept gagging as your tip stuck the back of her throat, but gave no signal she wanted you to stop, her lustful gaze suggesting the opposite.

It didn’t take long for your self control to vanquish itself, carnal desires taking over as you took pleasure from Yerim, fucking her mouth furiously and slapping your balls against her chin as her round eyes began watering with tears.

“Such a good girl. You like being used like this?” you asked, Yerim unable to answer but smiling with a mouth full of cock, slurping and gagging on every inch of throbbing hard flesh.

You never stopped your rough treatment of Yerim’s pretty mouth, ruining her makeup that was no doubt meticulously put on as she tried to tame her gag reflex to no avail. You could see by her watery eyes how much she was enjoying this, dripping down her thighs as she kept her mouth open for you to encourage your forceful use of her throat.

Yerim’s hands didn’t stay idle as they worked the clasp of her bra, discarding it from her body to free her perky tits, only strengthening your erection. She held on to your thighs to brace herself, slobbering on your shaft as you kept her throat filled, taking every thrust like a champ as messy drool spilled out of her lips and coated her bare chest.

Your senses were overwhelmed as Yerim had been turned into a mess, her beautiful face now stained with tears and drool, hair disheveled and out of place. You couldn’t keep this pace up for much longer or you were liable to finish much sooner than you wanted to, forcing her head down and holding her there for several seconds before mercifully withdrawing your shaft from her messy mouth.

Yerim came up for air with several loud gasps, messy strands of spit connected your glistening wet shaft to her smiling lips.

“You really are a good girl,” you said, using your stiff cock and slapping her face several times with your wet shaft as she continued grinning from ear to ear.

"I wasn't lying…"

“I want you on the bed. I’m still a little hungry.”

"Of course, daddy!"

Yerim was quick to obey as she climbed up and crawled on the bed, lying flat on her back as she spread her legs for you, offering herself up like a scrumptious meal.

"Come taste me, daddy," Yerim beckoned, biting her lip as she rubbed her pussy through her skimpy panties, showing off the wet spot staining the front of her crotch that only grew the more she touched herself.

Yerim's perfect body was almost fully unwrapped for you, and you couldn’t take anymore and needed to see every inch, wanting to get in between those thighs you couldn’t stop staring. You joined her on the bed and peeled her panties off without hesitation down her sexy legs, revealing her bare pussy and the prettiest set of lips that were dripping with arousal.

"Beautiful," you said as you laid flat on your stomach, positioning yourself and spreading her legs wider as Yerim blushed in response.

“T-thank you, daddy.”

You grew tired of staring and wanted to take action, planting several kisses on Yerim’s bare thighs in different places, never putting your lips on the same part of skin twice. She squirmed at your touch as you teased her, placing your mouth dangerously close to her pussy but refusing to touch her center.

"D-daddy, please-"

“What is it, baby? What do you need?” you asked, swiping your tongue against her luscious thighs to taste her creamy skin, lapping up juices that had already spilled out of her core and sampling them.

“Eat my pussy, p-please, daddy.”

“You’re cute when you beg. I’m gonna make you do more of that,” you said, lowering your head in between her open legs and giving one slow swipe of your tongue against her pink dripping slit.

"O-oh f-fuck, daddy," Yerim moaned as you gave several licks repeatedly, exploring her wet tolds with your tongue. You slipped your tongue inside her juicy pussy, gathering her delicious nectar on your tastebuds and gave a few swipes against her cilt before sucking on it.

"Your pussy tastes so fucking good,” you said, slurping on her swollen clit as you felt the warmth of her thighs on either side of your face, wrapping around your head and squeezing. You looked straight into Yerim’s round, lust-filled eyes as you ate her out, watching her bliss overtake her features as you lapped up all her leaking juices, drinking up every drop.

“F-fuck, you’re really good at that,” Yerim cried out, her hips bucking with a mind of their own. You brought a finger inside her dripping wet cunt, then a second short after, thrusting into her tight little hole as you kept your lips secured around her swollen clit, slurping harshly on it.

“That feels so good, o-oh my god, please d-don’t stop, daddy…”

Yerim grew wetter and wetter, your fingers being drenched with her slick as you messily ate her out, her thighs squeezing your head tighter as her breathing became shallow. You kept eye contact as your fingers plunged to the hilt, the warm walls of her cunt squeezing your wet fingers, not letting you go.

“J-ust like that, I’m so c-close, f-fuck!”

You kept firm pressure on her clit as her moans grew stronger and longer, lips suckling harshly on her sensitive nub as you helped her chase what she was desperate for, drinking in her nectar as it filled your mouth.

“D-daddy, I-I’m going to cum!”

Yerim suffocated you with her thighs as you kept your lips on her clit, fucking her with your fingers without mercy as grabbed onto your head, pushing you deeper into her delicious pussy as she couldn’t take it any more.

“O-oh, oh my god, daddy, I’m cumming!”

Yerim’s muscles tensed up as her toes curled, flooding your mouth with her sweet succulent honey. Her hips bucked uncontrollably as you helped her hit her peak, her thighs trembling around your head, smearing her juices all over your lips and chin, drowning you with her pleasure.

It was loud and messy, an unforgettable clmax for Yerim as you helped her come down from it gently, slurping with less force and removing your lips from her sensitive clit. Your fingers however, stayed deep inside her as her thighs lost the power they held around your head.

“I want you to cum again for me,” you ordered, pumping your fingers furiously inside her dripping tight hole, her wetness sucking you in.

“I-I can’t, p-please, daddy, I’m still sensitive…”

“You said you’re a good girl didn’t you? I want you to cum one more time.”

You had no plans of letting up, both fingers buried to the hilt inside Yerim’s pussy, keeping up the stimulation on her body as you felt her cunt pulsating again. The wet squelch of her warm hole filled the room as you never stopped moving, keeping her pussy filled as tears welled up in her sparkling eyes as you demanded another orgasm out of her.

“Cum for me, baby, I know you can do it. One more time, I want to see how wet you can really get.”

“P-please, I-I, f-fuck, o-oh fuck!”

Yerim was a beautiful squirming mess, her thighs covered in her own juices as she let out desperate gasps and moans, the intense stimulation overwhelming her body and all her senses.

“D-daddy, p-please!”

You weren’t planning on stopping until you got what you wanted and what Yerim deserved. Your wrist felt like it was on fire as fingers were kept curled inside her heat, moving frantically with one goal in mind.

Yerim barely had time to register the growing knot in her abdomen, still focused on the intense aftershocks running throughout her body that she quickly came without warning. Her orgasm was much stronger as slick juices gushed out of her sensitive pussy that forced your fingers out of her as she squirted all over you and the bed, staining the sheets and leaving a dark mess on the bed.

Yerim shook uncontrollably as her second consecutive orgasm winded down, you helped her out by caressing her thighs to calm her down, rubbing her pussy with your palm.

“P-please, s-stop, I can’t take anymore, p-please,” she begged, and you had your fill, ceasing any form of contact as her sounds of gasping heightened, her chest uninterruptedly heaving up and down.

“Good girl. Are you okay?” you asked, making a show of cleaning your fingers off with her juices.

“Y-yes, I’m fine, daddy. That was intense, I’ve never had anyone do that before,” she said, struggling to form full syllables.

You patiently waited for Yerim to regain her composure, giving all the time she needed. It took several moments for the trembling in her body to control itself, as the lustful gaze in her eyes returned, and you knew that meant she was ready for the next step.

“Will you fuck me now, daddy?”

“If you insist,” you replied, getting into position as your knees pressed against the still drenched sheets as you maneuvered in between her spread thighs. Yerim pushed her knees up and feet flat on the mattress as the anticipation of what you both desired was at an all-time high.

Gazing into her eyes with your cock in hand, you eagerly lined yourself up with Yerim’s pussy, sliding in between the warm flesh of her drenched pussy lips, stalling your desires to enter her body. You parted her folds, playing with her slippery flesh and refusing to do anything else but tease her entrance.

“P-please, put it inside me, daddy. I’ve been a good girl.”

“You have, but I want you to beg for it. Beg for me to fuck you.”

Yerim whined audibly as your cock loitered around her inviting opening, spreading her juices around and denying her the pleasure she desperately sought. It wasn’t going to be that easy for you to give in.

“P-please, please fuck me, daddy. I’m so wet, I need to feel your cock inside my tight little pussy!”

“I don’t think you really mean it,” you said, watching the desperation in her eyes as you slapped her clit with your cock. Yerim squirmed as you nudged the tip of your cock against her hole, teasing penetration but stopping at the last moment, leaving her unsatisfied and empty.

“P-please! I can’t take it anymore, please fuck me, daddy!”

You felt like you could go on like this forever, but your own self-control was being tested as the more you teased her the more you wanted to be inside her. Yerim continued to plead and beg, reduced to a desperate whiny mess and starving for cock as you looked straight into her eyes and slid inside her in one smooth stroke, parting the wet hungry lips of her cunt.

“O-oh my god.”

Yerim opened her mouth to let out a moan, her eyes struggling to stay open as flesh entered inside her. She tilted her head back as she was finally given what she craved as the tip of your cock disappeared inside her heat. Yerim was overwhelmingly tight, her walls suffocated your cock and you wanted to savor such an unforgettable feeling for as long as you could, lazily moving your hips.

You started out slowly, wanting Yerim to earn every single thrust. Her silky wet walls felt heavenly around your shaft, her warmth so intoxicating as you slid in and out of her pussy at a gingerly pace. She felt so wet, so hot, so tight inside that you couldn’t help but keep your pace slow at first, wanting to drown in all the intense sensations that flooded your body.

“Your pussy feels so amazing,” you said, as Yerim’s body tested your patience as you slid an inch deeper at a time, until you had bottomed her out. Her wetness was so prominent that you were able to move inside her effortlessly, her messy juices lubricating your sluggish thrusts.

“Do you like how tight I am, daddy? I’m much tighter than Hyejoo aren’t I?” Yerim asked as she adjusted to your length, keeping her desperate eyes glued to your own as you began to move more forcefully inside her, fueling your desires to give her everything and more.

“You’re so big, daddy. I want to be pounded senseless, ruin me please!”

“You have such a dirty little mouth don’t you, baby? I’m starting to think you aren’t a good girl after all,” you told her, upping your pace and fucking her harder as you grabbed her warm thighs, slipping into the wet depths of her hot constricting cunt.

Yerim feigned the hint of surprise on her face as she moaned, arms by her side and holding on to your bed sheets as she relaxed into the mattress.

“T-that’s not true, daddy. I’m not a bad girl…”

She struggled to keep her eyes open as pleasure took control of her body, and you felt no need to hold back and began pistoning your hips, pounding her pussy and stuffing her full of cock.

“I don’t think you’re a good girl. But I think you’re a little slut,” you said as you gave her the hardest thrust of the night, making her gasp at how deep your cock fit inside her.

“I-I’m not a slut, I’m a good-ah!”

Yerim’s denial was interrupted as you lifted her luscious legs into the air, draping them over your shoulders. You were able to hit spots you couldn’t before, thrusting carelessly into her pussy as the bed became an orchestra of noisy squeaks and audible moans.

“O-oh fuck, right there! just like that, daddy!”

You had no plans on stopping now that Yerim had unshackled the chains of desire, hugging her legs while your hips went wild as you drove yourself repeatedly into her comfortable warm hole.

It was impossible to concentrate on anything else with how good she felt and the never-ending wetness that smothered your shaft as you established a perfect rhythm and looked directly into Yerim’s eyes as you stretched her out.

“Such a good little slut, taking this cock so well,” you hissed, feeling her pussy clench around your cock at the second use of the word she swore she wasn’t, her body betraying her. Yerim let out wordless gasps and moans as you kept the momentum up with no end in sight.

Yerim’s moans grew and grew as your rhythm sped up, her flushed skin becoming warmer to touch as you kept her filled airtight, her walls pulsating around your drenched shaft.

“You’re going to cum again?”

“Y-yes, I’m so close! Please don’t stop…”

“You can’t. Not until you admit what a slut you are.”

“B-but I’m not...I’m a good girl I promise!” she said, desperately trying to keep up the act.

You slowed down your thrusts at the result of her defiance, practically at a standstill, resting inside her.

“N-no, wait! P-please, I’m so c-close. Let me cum, please, let me cum, daddy.”

You refused until she gave you want you wanted, only thrusting into her body every few seconds, driving her crazy.

“Say it. Tell me and I’ll make you feel better than you ever have before.”

Yerim was left with no other options, frustratedly grabbing on to the sheets as the fire in her abdomen kept burning.

“I’-I’m a slut. I’m a needy little slut that needs to cum!”

“No, you’re a good little slut. Now cum on my cock,” you corrected, reestablishing your pace and driving every inch of hard flesh inside her. Her walls clenched almost painfully tight, her wetness growing as you pounded her into the mattress.

“D-daddy, I-I’m cumming!”

Yerim’s orgasm didn’t dawdle, her toes curling into the sheets as her back arched, taking every inch of flesh into her wet pussy. You fucked her straight through her strongest orgasm of the night, her legs shaking in your hands as she came hard. If your sheets weren’t ruined before she made sure they were.

“Good little slut” you purred, letting her legs drop from your shoulders gently as your pace slowed down, caressing her face as her glazed over eyes could barely stay open.

“D-don’t you need to cum too, daddy?” Yerim asked with several shallow breaths, doing her best to form a sweet smile. You leaned forward and kissed her, tasting the cherries on her lips and watched her chest slowly heaving up and down, almost hypnotizing you.

“Not yet. I’m not done having fun with you.”

Letting her rest for a moment you slowly withdrew from her drenched pussy, watching your shaft glistening with her juices in the lights as you left her body empty, whines escaping her lips. Hands on her hips you nudged her as she turned over, getting on her hands and knees.

Yerim settled into position, displaying the naked curves of her body, ripe for the taking. She granted you all access to her delicious bent over body, her head resting on the mattress and her plump ass raised in the air.

Her pretty pink lips were still splayed open after your treatment of her, but you were just getting started, rubbing your painfully hard shaft between her warm buttcheeks as you prepared yourself to enter her pussy.

Yerim’s skin was so soft as you used her cheeks to massage your throbbing shaft, you couldn’t take much of being outside her. Not wasting time you lined yourself back up with her tight hole, poking against her entrance again with no plans to keep her waiting, needing to find yourself buried in her smothering warmth.

Taking a deep breath you looked at the pleading look in Yerim’s eyes as she patiently looked over her shoulder. You popped your hips and slid in an inch inside her dripping heat before letting the rest sink inside.

Yerim gasped as her pussy swallowed up your cock hungrily and refused to let you go, enveloping you in a familiar warmth and wetness as she lowered her head, fingers wrapped around in your sheets.

“Such a tight little slut, aren’t you? You want daddy to pound this tight pussy?”

“Yes, daddy! Don’t hold back this time, okay? I can take it!”

There wasn’t any reason not to give Yerim just what she asked for as you placed your hands on her supple cheeks, squeezing the soft flesh and kneading it, pressing your fingertips into her warm flushed skin.

“Fuck me!”

Yerim was just every bit demanding as your mutual friend and fuckbuddy Hyejoo, and if she wanted to be treated the same you were going to oblige her. She was all yours and you were going to make the most of it as you started at a rapid pace, finding a harsh rhythm and drove yourself deep inside, making her scramble for a tighter grip on the sheets.

“You’re so fucking wet. Good girls definitely don’t drip all over my cock like this.”

Yerim couldn’t find a response, answering back only in lustful erotic moans as you increased your pace, moving your hands to her wide hips and squeezing her flesh hard enough to bruise in the morning.

“Harder! F-fuck me harder, daddy, please!”

“Since you asked so nicely…”

Yerim so impossibly tight that it almost hurt as you plunged every single inch of flesh in her, making sure your hips smacked against her big ass, causing her plump cheeks to ripple in time with your thrusts as she arched her back high.

“Oh f-fuck, you’re so deep! H-harder, daddy!”

“So needy,” you said, gripping her hips even tighter to pull her back against your cock, slamming into her pussy without mercy and using no wasted movements. You flattened your palm and gave her beautiful tight ass a hard smack that echoed across the room.

Her pussy clenched in response as she let out a loud gasp, and you gave her another slap on the other cheek as her walls tightened around you, threatening to push you out of her body.

“F-fuck!”

“So you’re a slut that loves to be spanked, huh? Hyejoo left out so many things,” you said, smacking her ass repeatedly in the same spot until you left a faint handprint on her pale skin.

“Y-yes! I’m a naughty little slut that loves to be spanked and used!”

Your smacks against her plump ass grew harder, her tender flesh rippling with each flick of your wrist. Yerim’s walls clenched each time you smacked her delicious ass, the mixture of pain and pleasure causing her natural juices to flood down her thighs.

“P-please don’t stop!” Yerim begged, looking back at you with desperation as you saw tears had formed in her eyes. You gave a brief moment of respite, massaging the sore reddened skin until she signaled she was ready for another round.

You struck her cheeks with more force, winding your arm back to deliver slap after slap, making sure you hit the same part of her ass as found the handprints that made such an easy target. Her sensitive skin grew a brighter shade of red with each smack, each harsh slap made her wetter and wetter.

You looked down at your handiwork, your cock disappearing into between bright red buttcheeks that you found it impossible not to want even more out of her body as you pulled her arms behind her, grabbing her dainty wrists with a tight grip.

“I’m really going to fucking ruin you,” you growled, pounding away into Yerim as if it a fire had just been lit inside you, dropping all sense of self control as your animalistic urges took over.

You were anything but gentle, fucking Yerim with the harshest thrusts your body could give. Shortly after sweat began to drip down your forehead, misting over Yerim’s naked back.

“Th-that’s so good, you’re fucking me so well, daddy!”

Yerim could barely keep it together, her pussy dripping like a faucet as she found it hard to think straight, all thoughts ceased except the hard throbbing cock ravaging her cunt without any care.

“F-fuck, d-daddy! You’re gonna make me cum again!”

Your breathing grew as shallow as hers, the loud slap of hot flesh against hot flesh filled your ears alongside Yerim’s lustful moans as your hips smacked her ass, your sweaty bodies clinging together.

“Cum for me. Cum again for me you greedy little slut.”

It only took until your sentence had ended. Yerim was teetering on the edge and your words and actions pushed her over it, unable to control herself any longer she selfishly took her fourth climax of the night. It was the weakest of the bunch but still no less satisfying, toes curling in the mattress as her orgasm jerked her whole body, and had you not had control of her arms it would have been easy for her to fall face first into the mattress.

Her wet hot pussy squeezed your cock so hard that you prepared yourself to follow in her footsteps, giving into the mind-numbing pleasure and released the grip on her wrists. Your hands found their rightful place on her hips as you pounded her pussy as long as you both could stand it.

“I-I’m gonna fucking cum too. Where do you want it?”

“Yay! Cum inside me, daddy! Please, I need my pussy filled so badly, p-please!”

You had just enough time to wait for her response, your body not waiting much longer, finding it harder and harder to breathe and it was impossible to leave the warmth of her silky dripping cunt.

Looking down between your legs, you used all your remaining energy as your cock disappeared in between her cheeks, no longer fighting the urge to hold back anything as the sweat on your bodies increased, as did the harsh sounds of your bodies slapping against one another.

You reached your peak with ease thanks to the vigorous use of Yerim’s body. It was just too much to handle as your pulsating shaft erupted inside her, moaning loudly and sending shot after shot of thick semen into the suffocatingly tight walls of her heavenly wet pussy.

Using all the energy you had left you finished up your final thrusts, slowing down the movement of your hips and ensuring not a drop was left. You were both exhausted, tired gasps and heavy panting filled the room but you couldn’t help but give her backside one more squeeze as your cock rested inside her.

“You came so much...it’s so warm…”

Once your senses had recovered and you withdrew an inch at a time as your depleted cock slipped out of Yerim’s freshly fucked pussy, leaving a stream of thick milky cum leaking out of her that dripped down her thighs, mixing with the already prevalent juices that had ruined your bedsheets.

You had just enough energy to let your tired self plop on the tortured mattress, Yerim crashing on top as your sweaty bodies melded together in a mess of limbs.

“That was amazing…” Yerim managed to mutter out, drained syllables barely leaving her sweet lips in a coherent sentence, her head resting on your chest while you draped an arm over her back, pulling her in tight.

“Do you want to clean up? My shower is big enough for two,” you said, making Yerim drip between her messy thighs again as you fixed strands of sweaty disheveled hair out of place.

“I can barely move,” Yerim giggled, flashing a weak smile.

“Don’t move then. Take all the time you need.”

“This was a wonderful date. Thank you, daddy.”

Yerim quickly fell asleep in your arms, out like a light. You were about to follow her until a buzz on your nightstand interrupted you from doing so.

Hyejoo deserved some credit, and you’d had to thank her in the morning. For now all you could do was drift away to sleep, thankful for the amazing night with Yerim and also that she wasn’t a snorer.

#loona smut #choerry smut #loona #choerry #reader insert #male reader #kpop smut #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction

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angeli-marco-writes · 3 years

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Tom Felton - Baby on the Brain

A/N - First request! I hope this is what you wanted, I really like this idea. I don’t know Tom, nor do I claim to, and the other characters are fictional figments. To celebrate 100 followers, I'm uploading this early. Thank you!

Warnings - overloads of fluff, mentions of baby sick, mild language, slight angst, hints to a breeding kink whoops, lightly implied smut.

Summary - Visiting Tom’s brother and his new baby should be a walk in the park, really, but some unwitting truths come to ahead that you can’t refute. You’ve always wanted a family, but does Tom? (Request for Tom Felton: you guys meet his brother's new baby and then decide to have your own.)

Tom’s bruised knuckles rap thrice against the oak wood of his brother's front door, squeezing your smaller, trembling hand in his, running his fingers over the band of the ring in pride of place. Taking a deep breath in sync with yours, he turns his twinkling blue eyes towards you, lending you a twitch of a reassuring smile.

“Why are you so nervous? It’s only my brother,” he says, his voice gruff following the cigarette he smoked in the car.

“It’s the baby I wanna see,” you breathe, “less nervous, more jittery.”

“Maybe you should’ve gone for tea this morning instead of a double shot coffee.”

You nudge his ribs with your elbow, and then his overly sensitive hip bone with yours, coaxing a gentle chuckle from his lips, “Maybe I wouldn’t have needed it if you hadn’t kept me up so late.”

The devilish, shit-eating grin creeping onto his lips tells you that he feels no remorse, but then again, you’d take tiredness and a night like that over anything. His fingers twine tighter around yours as footsteps begin to shuffle behind the door, followed by an ear-piercing, blood-curdling screech, absolutely unholy.

“See he’s having fun with the kid, then?” you begin to whisper, but your words trail off as Tom’s very exhausted looking brother appears in the doorway, feeding bottle in hand, burping rag over his shoulder, deep purple bags beneath his eyes.

“Alright mate?” Tom greets, stepping one loafer-clad foot over the threshold, offering his brother a man hug.

“Tired, yeah. How you doing, man?” he responds warmly, patting Tom’s back.

“I’m good, I’m good, Jon.” Tom says, though you can feel him almost imperceptibly tense beside you.

Turning ever so slightly, all eyes are cast on you. Naturally, you offer Tom’s brother your warmest smile, teeth and all, sympathy welling both in your eyes and your heart. Kids must be tough if he looks like this with a three-week old.

“And who’s this?” Jonathan asks, sweetly, inquisitive more than anything, though he does look at you a bit peculiarly, scrutinising you, perhaps your outfit, the mom jeans you paired with a cropped cardigan perhaps not his style.

“This is my fiancée, Y/N.” Tom says, his words holding an inflection or pride perhaps, but whatever it is, it sends a pang of excitement shooting down your spine, a smirk creeping its way onto your lips, one you have to bite back, “I’m sorry I haven’t bought her over before, but you know what it’s like.”

“Yeah, course. Nice to meet you.”

“And you! Where’s the baby?”

Tom chuckles softly, and he curls his arm around your body, hip to hip. “She loves kids.”

Jonathan stands aside, a welcoming hand to beckon you into his home, the laminate floors covered in baby commodities, pastel blankets strewn everywhere, but other than, surprisingly clean considering Tom mentioned his brother was a hoarder and was always the most untidy of the bunch all throughout their youth. Considering how bad Tom is and how often you’re stuck cleaning away his dirty dishes and putting his laundry on, you were expecting far worse, but maybe Tom was the worst of them all along.

He tickles between your ribs as you wander through the halls, greeted in the back room by a tiny blonde headed baby, cradled in two arms of a just as exhausted looking lady donning a kind smile, stars dancing in her eyes as she stares down at her temporarily placated child. Tufts of blonde hair pair with enamoured hazel eyes to compliment the soft yellow of their clothes and the rosiness of their chubby cheeks. The hair, the nose, the tiny dimples; this baby looks just like Tom - and all his brothers - did when they were little dots themselves. The same little treasures. You, however, were an unattractive baby compared to this ball of sunshine.

“This is Ainsley.” Tom’s sister in law says lazily, her words falling off as she gapes in adoration at the gurgling blob of joy in her embrace. “And I’m Zara.”

“I’m Y/N.” you smile widely.

Should he not know better, Tom would quite possibly think you’re going to either collapse of hyperventilate, judging by the flush of your cheeks, your elevated pulse, heart beating out of your chest, the tiny, delightful, desperate whimpering noises from the back of your throat, elicited from a single glance into the babies eyes.

Said baby begins to make some indistinguishable noises and flails its arms around faintly, feebly, in your general direction. You’d be lying if your heart didn’t do a somersault in your chest.

“M- may I hold Ainsley?” you stammer out, extending your covered arms in a similar cradle to that of Ainsley’s mother.

“God, you’d be doing me a right favour,” she retorts, her accent broad, Geordie.

She shuffles softly down the pale green sofa, so perfectly complimenting the oak floors, to make a room for you that you take gratefully, and position yourself astutely against the back of the sofa. Before retrieving the baby, though, Tom grasps for a muslin cloth and affectionately drapes it over you, affectionate in the manner that he does it with such care, grazing his thumbs over your collarbones as he goes, ever so gently, barely even a touch, but enough to let you know he’s there. He holds your gaze for a moment, his lips twitching into a smile. This alone sends butterflies to your stomach and sets a sheen of fog about your head, taking you even more by surprise when the baby is laid in your arms, writhing and smiling and blinking so sweetly.

“Hiya darling,” you coo, “aren’t you just the most precious thing.”

“Gender neutral name and clothing...” Tom interjects, sidling up on the arm of the sofa beside you, “may I ask their sex and the pronouns you’re using?”

“Male, but we’re trying to be as gender neutral as possible so they can grow up not feeling pressured.”

You can’t wipe the beam from your face, or prevent the small ‘awwh!’ from escaping under your breath, curling the cloth slightly around the child, “That’s a wonderful attitude. Tommy, would you fetch my bag from the car, please?”

In a second, he’s bouncing up, his hand thrust deep in his chinos to fish for the car key. “You asked me to grab it before we got out as well, sorry sweetheart. Back in a minute.” With a nod to his brother, he’s racing out the door, his footsteps thundering through the house. Your attention, however, remains glued to the baby.

“Would you like me to set them down for tummy time afterwards, or is he going back to sleep?” You ponder aloud, eyes glued to the wry tufts of hair so soft and silky between your fingers.

“If he falls asleep in your arms, that’s fab. We’re just livin’ minute by minute.”

You release a small laugh, “Fair enough.”

Jon sits beside you tentatively, between yourself and his wife, his arm wrapping around her as she leans her body weight against him, her hair--held in a bun before, now just kind of flopping into her eyeline--tickling her shoulder and causing him to wince a little.

“How do you know so much about babies?”

The sigh you don’t mean to release is wistful at best, plain pining at worst--and probably most obvious. “I’ve always wanted them, kids, but Tommy’s the first guy I’ve settled down with, but despite being engaged, we’re still taking things slowly.”-- You shrug, as best as you can with the baby in hold, and cock your head to the side to peer down better at every tiny freckle on Ainsley’s skin.--“I love him to bits, but he wants to wait, and I’m still young, a good chunk younger than he is.”

“If it helps,” he starts, “I’ve never seen Tom as in love with someone as he is you. He’s besotted. You say the word, he’ll do it.”

“I know. I just don’t want to make him do anything unless he’s 100% sure.”

“And that’s what makes you his perfect girl.”

Your heart swells. There’s a beat, a pause of silence, filled only with the zapping of the car outside, no more than a couple of seconds before Jon’s wife speaks again.

“Enough of that. Show us the ring!”

If they’re all this excitable at something as simple as your engagement ring, perhaps you’ll fit in with his family better than you anticipated. ** Certainly, if their amiable gasps are anything to go by as you display your hand to them, your ring finger held out, supporting Ainsley’s head in the crook of your elbow as they gawk at the diamond glistening in the sunlight streaming in from their floor-to-ceiling patio doors. You have to admit it’s a pretty damn beautiful ring, the one you always dreamed of. An oval cut 0.5ct diamond held in place by a delicate split-shank 18ct gold band. It glows ethereally in whatever light there is, but most spectacularly in Tom’s eyes.

“It’s the most gorgeous ring,” she gushes, “apart from mine.”

A smile creeps its way in. You’re not entirely sure what the hell you’ve done right in your life to deserve this incredible, expensive ring, or even Tom for that reason. This is the life you’ve always dreamed of, the one that Tom’s brother has, and if you’re even half as happy as they are after being married for 5 years then you’ll consider your life to be a great success. You always wanted the quiet family life in the suburbs, with a lovely house and a nice garden and a couple of kids, working a part time job that pays well and allows you time for your children and your husband… then you fell in love with him. Loving Tom, though, that’s the true gift in your life, and you’d take him over that life any day. He’s the best, truly.

Speak of the devil and he shall arrive, since Tom comes puffing into the room, his heavy footsteps coming to a halt in the doorway as he hands over your abnormally large handbag.

“Here,” he gasps, but turns his gaze upon your hand, witnessing their marvelling at the rock he put there, “it is a pretty boss ring, isn’t it? Worth every penny.”

He bends down to ghost a kiss over your lips, his slightly long dark-blonde hair tickling your cheeks, smiling warmly down at you before deciding to sidle up next to you in the small gap between you and the arm of the sofa. However, half way down, his hip bones are digging in, and he winces up like he’s just been shocked. You know how sensitive his hip bones are, a fat you use against him incredibly often for all the best reasons, but today, he’s been so good, and you shan’t make him sit uncomfortably.

Keeping your hold on Ainsley--who’s almost asleep already, quieter than he was before with only faint gurgles escaping, their eyes droopy--steady, you begin to stand, and shuffle yourself up a bit, allowing Tom to take your previous seat, before placing yourself back down with as little ‘umph’ as you can manage, hooking your thigh over tom’s in the process. He knows what to do, it’s always been your calling card at home or at a party: as soon as you sling your leg over his, he pulls you into his lap eerie time, and today is no different. Well, perhaps it is, as he furrows his dark eyebrows inquisitively, gazing adoringly at you and the child in your arms, waiting for your nod okay before he hitches his arms around your waist and tugs you, as gently as he possibly can with his delicate grip, into his lap, giving you both ample space.

“Babe,” you whisper, “can you fetch the gift out of my bag?”

He’s instantly ferreting around until he finds the presents you neatly wrapped in polka dot paper, and hands them to Jonathan. Eagerly, they're unwrapped, and it seems that your many arguments over what to get Tom’s niece or nephew were worth it, considering the fact their eyes begin to brim with tears.

A soft grey elephant plush, holding a yellow heart, embellished with ‘Ainsley Felton, love Uncle Tom’, and a Peter Rabbit china crockery set for when they’re older.

“Thank you,” Zara exclaims, the way only a mother can, in gracious relief, “they’re adorable, so perfect.”

And before you know it, both you and Tom are being embraced wholeheartedly, as though you’re already their family. It’s been a life since anyone besides Tom hugged you, but this, this is nice.

“Well, lunch?”

Said lunch is a tumultuous affair, with a delivery pizza being ordered from the local dominoes, but with Ainsley so comfortable and calm in your arms, it was an elected decision not to move him, and instead, Tom fed you your pizza. It isn’t the first time, his love language seems to be feeding you things, but normally it's strawberries or chocolate truffles. Never before have you covered an entire medium pizza being fed to you while trying to avoid dropping any toppings or tomato sauce onto a peaceful baby, but that is just an indicator for the rest of the afternoon, Tom’s hands or eyes never once leaving you.

Completely accidentally, Jonathan and his wife drift off to sleep. You smile sadly at the sight, unable to blame them, they must be knackered, the problem simply lies in the fact that Ainsley begins to stir just as they drift off.

“See if there’s any milk in the fridge, please, I think they’re using formula.” you hiss to Tom, standing up cautiously.

Aghast, he grapples for words, “I-I’m sorry, what?!”

“Forget it,” you sigh, “take the baby and change him, please.”

“Change him?!” Again, that same tone of staggered surprise. “I don’t know how!”

“You have four nieces and nephews already, yes you do. He’s going to start screaming in a minute and wake your very tired, very groggy brother. Change the baby.”

When your eyes begin to thin, nostrils flaring, eyebrows raising, he knows not to mess with you, so he swallows thickly, his throat bobbing up and down, and scoops a crying Ainsley from your arms. As he treads upstairs, you find your way back into the kitchen, and find on the counter the bottles done with their sterilisation. This is okay, this is great, you know how to do this, and years of babysitting taught you exactly how to do this. It’s almost like that scene from Outnumbered, assembling the bottle with your eyes closed, muscle memory taking over from your brain. When your eyes flutter open, you almost let out a little squeal at your achievement. If only you could learn this all over again, have this life with a little child of your own, with Tom being as good a dad as he’s acting right now. When you handed him the baby, though, you couldn’t help but notice the fear that flashed over his face, paling him a shade, his pupils dilating to erase the blue. You wish he wasn’t so scared…

A few minutes later, with the kettle boiled and the formula made, you appear in the front room where Tom is swaddling Ainsley, holding the bean against his beating heart, making only the very slightest movements to entertain them.

“Give him a bit of tummy time while the milk cools, do you want to feed him?” you offer, stepping over the threshold .

“N-no,” he exhales slowly, “I think you’d best do that. Can I just put them down?”

“I’ll grab the mat from the corner”--you spied it as you walked in, a colourful crinkle mat rolled up and tucked away from view against the cream walls, behind the flat-screen on its grand stand--“and then yeah.”

Even as he puts Ainsley down, stomach first, onto the playmat, he looks petrified. Taking a seat on the floor to watch over them, you tug on Tom’s tan trouser leg. Indecisiveness gnaws at him, tugging him away from you, but he concedes to your widened puppy eyes, and tumbles onto the shag pile rug next to you, his arm wrapping around your shoulders like its second nature.

“You okay?” you whisper.

“Yeah, course. You?”

“Yeah.”

You let your head fall to his arm, a blissful smile creeping its way onto your lips when Ainsley looks you dead in the eye, hazel orbs twinkling, full of hope.

“I love you.”

“I know,” he hums, “I love you too.”

“Then why are you being so… prickly with me today?”

He shifts away from you the most miniscule amount, “I’m not.”

“We’ve been together for years, Tom. I know when you’re bloody lying.” you lower your voice for the final words, “now tell me why you’re being such a pouty puss.”

You mimic his frown, knowing full well that he hates it when you do so. He hates seeing you sad, even if it's just pretend, so makes a swooping move to kiss the frown away.

“Would you leave me if I said I didn’t want kids?” his voice breaks on the final word, little more than a whisper, but his next move is so animated that it almost startles you with the bottle in hand. “I mean, you know I want them. I love kids, I want us to have a family, but…”

“Nothing would ever make me leave you, Tom. You couldn’t do anything that’d cause me to fall out of love with you.”

The pain in your statement sends a shock through you, singing your heart, poisoning your mind, sending a sour bile running up your throat. No matter how many daggers shoot at your heart, it remains to be true. You’d do anything for him. If, tomorrow, he turned around and said he wanted the two of you to stay together but never marry and never have children, you wouldn’t back down without a fight, but you’d accept it. Despite all your lifelong hopes, nothing trumps Tom.

“I’m gonna feed Ainsley now.”

Picking the baby up from the rug, you put a bib around his neck, and throw another cloth around you, taking a seat in the corner chair to feed him.

“I’m going to the bathroom.” he says, and walks out, shoulders slumped.

You watch him wistfully as he leaves the room, and even when he returns--refusing to look at you--your gaze is still trained on his every move, slumping into the shag pile rug to watch the TV on a low volume. You can feel his eyes on you, that burning pair of eyes that follow you everywhere, your every movement, his ears honed, trained to your every shift and whisper. The second you turn upon him though, he’s looking away.

“I’ll put Ainsley down now,” you announce after burping him, “we need to leave soon if we want to make it home before dark.”

He doesn’t even bat an eye as you sashay past him, Ainsley’s cries muffled by a dummy, but the second he hears your footsteps heading back downstairs, his own begin to thunder, pounding against the stairs to meet you halfway.

“Wait,” he whispers, “come on, sit down, talk to me. I love you.”

A sigh heaves your chest, “I love you too. Talk about what?”

“You’re being arsey with me.”

“Because you said you don’t want kids!”

“Well I didn’t mean it, I’m just”--he pinches the bridge of his nose, and ushers you up on the stairs, your calves hitting the carpet--“there’s a lot to think about. We just met the kid, and I saw how your face lit up when you held him.”

“You know I want kids, Tom.”

“I know, but can we not talk about kids for a second? I want to talk about you. You’re my fiancée, I want to make you my wife. I’m just scared.”

“What of? You have nothing to be scared of. I’ll be here no matter what.”

“That’s why I’m scared!” he exasperates, flailing his arms about, “I don’t want you to senselessly follow me and love me if I can’t give you what you want. I’m scared of fucking this up, fucking you up. I’m scared of this going wrong, with children or marriage or saying something wrong, because I can’t lose you.”

“Tom,” you murmur.

Your hand flies up to cup his jaw, grazing your thumb over the stubble growing there, the faintest shadow.

“I love you. I- I need you. Y/N, sweetheart, please. I just wanna stay how we are, just stay this way for a bit, slow down because the world is moving too fast, and I’m gonna fall, but I can’t drag you down with me.” he croaks, cradling your neck with trembling, callused hands. “Can we stay how we are? Just us? Just you and me?”

“Babe you aren’t gonna lose me. Everything else off the table, we’ve got this, we’ve got us. We can stop the world and get off if that's what you want. Nothing is immediate, everything can wait.” you promise, your eyes boring into his.

All at once, his lips come crashing down onto yours, swallowing any inhibitions with his lavishing tongue, his hot breath slanting and fanning over your lips, leaving innocent adoration in their wake. Until a piercing scream resounds.

“Except maybe that.”

You duck from his grip skilfully, and slip into Ainsley’s room, two fingers reaching out to tickle their stomach, causing the scream to hiccup in their throat momentarily. Then, as if wondering what to do next, he just stares up at you imploringly, questioningly.

“Come on Ainsley, I just set you down to sleep. Be good and let mummy and daddy sleep too, okay?” you coo, tucking his blanket back up to his neck, slipping his cuddly toy closer, “go back to sleep.”

This child is already one with an attitude, you can tell that by the vehemence with which he yells out. You don’t even have to think twice before you’re stooping into the cot, swathing him in blankets, and lifting him to your bosom, where his screams fall to mere gurgles.

“Do you think he’s sleeping in the bed with them?” you ask Tom, keeping your voice at a steady whisper even with the slight bounces you’re offering the baby, “because I think that causes parental problems above all else because they’re being kicked in the back all night. Still, decreases the risk of SIDS. Why do they have a cot up if they are? He can’t sleep without contact…”

You don’t even realise you’re thinking aloud until Tom presses his thumbs into your shoulders, buckling your whole body. It’s the instant tension reliever, truly, and your shoulders do seem tighter today, perhaps from all the baby wrangling.

“Lets just sit, shall we?”

You do, taking up refuge in the front room once again, with an extra blanket of his, as well as a supply of cuddly toys, rattles, and dummies. Tom watches you with fascination for the rest of the afternoon, everything you do drawing his full attention; enticing, entrapping. His heart swells at the sight of you bouncing Ainsley around to make him laugh, cooing and giggling with him to coax a smile back after a wail that you hushed down, holding him so closely as he sleeps. He’s finally seeing it, after all these years, you, in your true home habitat, caring for a child, so kindly, so motherly, so naturally. Everything you do instantly seems to set the infant at ease. He knows it should be him, Ainsley is his nephew, but… you’re just better.

In fact, before he even realises it, he’s craving what he doesn’t have. Not that he can’t have it -- you’ve been together for a long time, you’ve discussed a future with children more times than he can count, and of course he wants it. Tom, he’s always wanted to be a dad, to read his kids books and sing them lullabies and show them what daddy did for work… but it's always been a pipe dream. Your wishes of a family have never come to fruition, and all because of his selfish fears.

The world can’t stop turning just because he’s getting cold feet and wants to climb off for a minute to catch his breath. That’s not how life works. If you want something, you’ve gotta grab it by the balls, because the opportunity will be gone before you know it. And with Tom? He won’t lose you because he won’t take a chance to make you happy and give you what you want. If anything, seeing the crestfallen look that settles between your brows when you actually have to give Ainsley back to their parents just further instils and confirms the idea in his head. There’s his future, in his mind's eye, as clear as day. This is what he needs to do, but better still, this is what he wants.

The drive back to your home is spent in relative silence, and a pensive one at that. You know like instinct that Tom is replaying your final conversation with Jonathan and his wife the same way you are. After all, the simple words did put a dampener on your reconciliation. Your hand is on the gearstick the whole way, though, your fingers entwined with his, the simple contact enough for you. You were right at lunch: all day it's been his hands or his eyes on you: you like it when it's both simultaneously, the way it was when you said your goodbyes.

Tom’s hands settled on your hips, his chin atop your head, and you just fell into his enveloping warmth, smiling lazily at the couple you rescued for the afternoon.

“Thanks so much, we owe you one.” Jonathan said, giving Tom another one of those manly hugs as you stand in the dusk-darkened wooden porch.

“Really,” Zara chimed in, her feet shuffling on the tiled floor as she held her husband's hand, “you’re welcome to have him any time. That is, of course, if you don’t have a little one of your own by the time you’ve recovered from that blighter.”

You forced a dry chuckle at her words, an awkward sound, but you seemed to recover well enough, “Well Ainsley’s been a pleasure, and I’m glad we could give you some respite. Take care.”

“And you. Drive safe.”

“We will,” Tom said, offering them a smile, flashing his keys, keeping his grip on you resolute, “thanks for having us.”

Their words still loom over you like a dark cloud. It was a throwaway comment, one they’d have thought nothing of, and most people, and even you on a good day, but you’d had that… spat earlier on that changed everything. Dredging it up would just put an even further dampener on your mood, though, and with a drive home in the semi-darkness already hanging over you like a massive impending storm cloud of fear, that’s definitely not ideal.

“Nice baby, Ainsley,” Tom mentions, turning his indicator on to pull off the dual carriageway.

“Yeah, and he’s cute.”

“Nice eyes.”

And a couple more comments like those are the only conversation you share as the journey goes by, but soon enough, you’re on the home stretch, and your street rolls into view. With your head comfortably rolled back against the headrest, your eyes shut from a tiring day of exertion and childminding , you don’t notice Tom stepping out the car and unravelling his grip from you. Only does it become apparent when he opens your door and unclips your seat belt, kissing your lips tenderly, the chapped skin arising you from whatever zoned out, thoughtful state you were in before.

“Come on, let's get you inside sweetheart.” he murmurs, taking your hands in his as he helps you out the car, His chivalry never fails to astound you--he even carries your bag.

“Thanks darlin’.”

You follow him inside, kicking off your shoes routinely, shrugging off your coat to hang on the peg with your name etched above it. What happens next, though, is what shocks you the most: this isn’t part of your normal ‘returning home’ routine, not if you’ve had a day as tiring as this one. You’re neither complaining nor disappointed, though. How can you be when Tom’s lips latch onto your pulse point and he has you writhing in seconds, only his arm around the small of your back there to support you.

In one fell swoop, he has you spun around and pinned to the wall, his figure with lust-blown eyes hovering above you, every line in his face so loving, even the subtle part of his lips. They only do that when he’s so desperate to kiss you he can barely breathe, when he’s so eager to confess his love again and again that all other words are inconsequential. This is your Tom.

“Let’s try for a baby.” he says, completely resolutely, no trace of hesitation anywhere in his perfectly, delectably gruff tone. “I want one, I want us, and I don’t wanna wait to build a family with you.”

You can feel tears begin to form in the corners of your shock-widened eyes. This… this is- What changed his mind? Just hours ago, he was hell bent against the idea, but now? His cheeks are glowing at the mere prospect. Courtesy and patience be damned, that is if you can get the words out with how choked up you are…

“Really? Y-you mean it?”

His faint smile widens into a full blown grin, one that confirms everything for you. This is it, this is the Tom you agreed to marry, the happy Tom, the smiley Tom, the one who can barely contain his excitement even as he nods, a stray lock of dark blonde hair falling into his eyes as he does so.

Reasonably, you can’t be expected to hold back, and when his hair gets long enough that it falls into his eyeline? That’s your main weakness, so who can blame you when you catapult yourself up onto him, your legs joining around his wait, your arms settling around his neck. He holds you right back, catches you like he was already waiting, and pins you against the wall again. Perhaps the serotonin is too much as you both grin into a searing kiss, the every press of his lips against yours holding more passion than you can fathom a cohesive thought about. He’s… incredible.

And besides, with this enthusiasm, his kiss alone leaving you gasping and clutching onto his hair for some kind of grounding, perhaps it’ll be the first time lucky…

#tf #draco malfoy #dracotok #tom felton #tom felton x y/n #tom felton imagine #british toms #felton #tom felton fluff #tom felton angst #draco imagine #draco malfoy imagine #draco x reader #tom x reader #tom felton x reader #dad tom

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yandere-bastard · 3 years

Text

Coraline AU(Self?You?Y/N?) insert

//blood gore slight body horror? (button eyes you know coraline)

You're parents kinda suck ass they aren't the worst people but they've only gotten more distant since you came out, all you wanted was them to call you their son but they don't even call you their 'daughter' anymore. You have to move with them again it's not like you move a lot but you still didn't want to so here you were being decidedly angsty as you drive up to this ugly almost Victorian looking house, you hope there's asbestos in the walls so you'll just get poisoned and die that'd be nice.

You take your stuff to your room noticing a funny looking door beside your room so after unpacking (more or less) you decided to look into it, I mean it was getting late and your parents already seemed to be going to bed. so you found your way back quickly, you managed to open the smaller door and looked in, inside wasn't a closet like you thought but a tube like hallway.

against you better judgment you decide to climb through and you come out the other side and really you've got no clue what you had expected when you went through but it wasn't to come out in a new house the same size as yours,

"Y/N!~" you jumped at your name the voice sounded like your mom (ish?) but she never called you your name, never said a name in general at this point like if she ignored you the 'problem' would go away "Y/N! I made some cinnamon rolls come try one!" Okay not your mom, you kinda wanted to turn back but you stepped forward looking over the railing to see the kitchen light,

You decided to go down lured by the siren song of any sort of love, as you walk into the kitchen you a see a tall black haired woman standing beside the oven, she was bony and absolutely not your mom, "W-who are you?" you managed to ask, she turned smiling at you unlike how your mom actually did

well hello dear, you're so silly, who am I? It's your mother you dork, now you need to sit down and try these cupcakes?" You paused cupcakes? She said cinnamon rolls right? you look up and shes somehow standing right in front of you, smiling, "Do you not want any? that's alright why don't we go to your room and I'll sing a bit for you," of course you get scared and start to leave the room, if you ran you could totally make it back to that door right? but the moment you were past the doorway she noticed,

"yes let's go!" she quickly walked over lifting you up effortlessly

"If yo-you're my mom wh-where's dad?" you managed to stutter through your questions

"You don't need a dad, in fact you don't need anyone just me!" she set you down outside of a different room then what your actual mom had said was your room, "Silly little boy! you must need some sleep, but before you sleep I have a surprise just sit on bed and I'll get it!" you wanted to except the love but at the same time she was just wrong

"I just wanna go to bed I think," you stated looking away as she pulled you into the room, she laughed awkwardly moving you to a desk chair,

"No,no,no,no, I've got to get your present first just wait!" as she walked away you realized you hadn't actually looked at her face, you wanted to leave the room but before you could make an escape she walked back in with a box in her hands, "Now I've been waiting so long to give this to you!"

"We've never met before," you said determined, she was so damn tall you looked up and realized her eyes weren't eyes they were buttons, she was shaking her head and brushed long thin fingers through your short hair,

"Not yet we hadn't but it's fine, I've just been waiting too long my boy," the box felt more menacing then before as she set it in your lap, "Now open the box,"

"What's in it," you asked glaring up at her feeling trapped, not yet physically but it wouldn't take much on her side to change that,

"Just open it, trust me dear," she traced a sharp nail over the engraving on the lid it said your name, you slowly opened it inside was a pair of buttons, "Ah!" she cheered a little, "We match now love, I'll put it on for you!" she pushed you back taking the buttons out of the box and you frantically began fighting against her, you let out a yell of pain as the needle stabs through part of your skin,

"Stop it!" with a scream you managed to throw her arms back tearing the thread out of your cheek, she gasped a bit and you take the moment to try and run away, as you try and make it to the door you see her right behind you, before you can reach it it's slammed shut and three little kids are standing in front of it "Motherfucker!" You shouted but before you could try and get them to move the woman claiming to be your mother has pinned you to the floor,

"What's wrong? Do you not want me to be your mother? I can be your father?" her face shifts terrifyingly into a warm looking man, "Or a different looking mother?" she shifts to a similar face of her own yet kinder less sharp, "Your sibling? do you want two parents?" she contorts her body terrifying you more and more,

"Please!" You sob out, "What do you want from me?!" more arms split from her back as she begins to sew the buttons over your eye, you scream in pure agony as blood drips from the torn skin, you kick and struggle sobbing and screaming as your eyes are replaced,

"Don't worry my dear, I just want to take care of you, I swear, I lied to those children but you my son, will be different," she finishes sewing soon enough, blood covered your cheeks as it mixed with your tears, "I know it hurts, when I force it it hurts very much, but you'll heal my boy," you sobbed as your sight was robbed from you falling weakly to the floor.

"Why?" you groan sadly, you flinch when her cold hand touches your face,

"I love you don't worry, you'll be able to see when you heal more," you stay limp even when she gets off of you, "Y/N please I'm gonna protect you, you don't like your family anyways and now you have me, I'll never ignore you like them or misgender you, or hurt you, you are mine"

And you are. For good

#platonic yandere #coraline #transmasc reader #platonic

52 notes · View notes

saturnsummer · 3 years

Text

i don't mind forever.

AU: When Sol is handed a case, she doesn't realise how big the case gets. Luckily for her, her best friend is here. (AU of lawyers at Hankuk Law Firm.)

notes: all credits go to @thenerdywriter !! she gave me this prompt just days after i joined tumblr, and i’ve been working on and off on it ever since. my first au series, so please go easy on me! i know i’m practically killing myself for doing two series at once, but i’ll deal with it later. as always, big love to everyone! any grammar mistakes and all will be taken fully responsible by me!

ao3 link

words: 4035 words

one.

Sol scrunches her hair in frustration. She twists her long, wavy light brown hair in a bun, fixing it with a jab of her white, long chopstick hairpin. She adjusts her bangs for good measure and resumes with her report. She reaches over to her coffee mug, only to find it empty. Great, it’s the third coffee she had today, and it wasn’t even lunch. Hearing her colleagues nagging on drinking too much coffee in her head, she stands from her desk and pushes the glass door of her office to the staff pantry. Her heels click against the marble floors as she strides across, filling her cup with iced water before retreating back.

It would have been a normal day at the Hankuk Law firm, but it wasn’t when she had such a pressing case.

It's been weeks. A client of hers has pressed charges against Lee Man Ho, claiming that he scammed her life savings. Lee Manho was a convict that was charged for raping multiple women and on several occasions, sexual harassment. He had been on good behaviour after his release for a couple of years, with no complaints and no news. Only now did his name resurface. He was snarky in his speech, manipulative and quick with his tongue, but most of all had a sinister smile that sent shivers.

Sol, being Sol, couldn’t say no to the poor woman. How could she? She experienced her fair share of poverty from growing up in a single-parent family that made enough to get by. She sympathised with her feelings, knowing just how stressed this poor mother must be when she can no longer afford to pay rent for her home, even less so the necessities for her toddler kids. Because, too many times, Sol was found broke and skipping meals so she could have her younger sister, Byeol, be fed instead.

With the help of the local police, she found more victims to be scammed, all similar in their scenario. Manho would call under the alias of a financial aid consultant, sometimes an insurance agent or bank teller. Then, he would extract their bank numbers from them, effectively draining their money away. By the time they victims tried to call back, the number would be out of order, or picked up by another voice, evident that he used another number to cover up his.

None of his victims had anything in common. Some were rich, some were poor. Some were female, some were male. And Manho had long disappeared in the wind the moment he got out of jail. He was said to be sighted once and when the police placed eyes on him, they lost him that same day.

His digital footprint was an utter headache as well. The police had other things to matter, and figuring out his digital footprint was the least of their concerns when they had important murders and urgent matters to solve.

But two could play this game.

Seungjae was a good friend of Sol’s. They were close acquaintances in school and kept in close contact. He, unlike Sol, was a whiz with computer codes and had his fair share of hacking experience. She remembers how he would hack into the system during school events and broadcast short music videos on the school televisions during breaks. Despite their age gap, he was always courteous, nice and kind hearted in helping others.

Seungjae eventually found a job with the police force, using his skills to legally hack criminal networks and dark nets. He was essentially part of a task force that identified suspicious activities like mass radicalisation, fake news and essentially tracking down internet hackers. It was a no-brainer that Sol would approach him, even though she knew that he could only legally hack under his work orders, not for personal favours.

Well it’s best she at least try.

She called Seungjae, who was fortunately free, and agreed to meet at a cafe. The sun was out, warming them from the autumn breeze that chilled them. Sol grabbed her coat and placed a post-it on her door, informing her colleagues of her business. Sol, while dressed in a warm coat, was undoubtedly freezing from the breeze. If only she could go back to law school, where she wore jeans and sweatshirts all day. Instead, she had a light blue long sleeved blouse, a knee length pencil skirt and a midnight blue blazer, and her only coat she had weakly shielding her from the cold.

“Sol A, what gives me the feeling that you aren’t calling for the purpose of catching up, but for a favour?” Seungjae asks as soon as his ice coffee arrives. Sol is amused at his habit, that he still calls her Sol A to differentiate her from Sol B, her colleague just working next door to her. But in response, she gives a small frown.

“Oppa, please? You have to help me with this. This case is driving me nuts!” She says in frustration as she stirs her ice tea. “Look, he’s off the grid, like properly off. I can’t even track his number or his email accounts. When the police placed plainclothes on him, he was like a ninja and they lost him within the first hour.”

Seungjae’s frown deepens. He knows of people who are good on the internet, but for an ex-convict to be running this alone? Furthermore, a convict who had no criminal record of scamming, conning and IT based crimes? There was definitely more to this.

“Sol A, do you think that he’s working alone?” Seungjae asks, stopping Sol in her speech. She tilts her head, the way she does normally when she puts the puzzle pieces in order. From her bag, she takes out a notebook and scribbles down the facts, then pushes it to the centre of the table.

“Okay, so we know that Lee Manho was convicted of rape and sexual harassment long time ago. Now, he’s running scams, and has no known background of coding or conning people, yet somehow the money appears in his bank account and it disappears the next moment.” Sol states as she circles her notes with a pencil and Seungjae nods.

“I think… I think you’re right, oppa. He’s definitely not working alone. And he could just be the middleman bringing the cash from one place to another.” Sol breaths out, realising how big the case has gotten. She’s not just going after Lee Manho, but she’s going after an entire team.

“You said that you can’t track his whereabouts, people he communicates with and where the money is going to?” SeungJae asks. Sol nods.

“Looks like someone is covering up the transfers and his tracks.” Seungjae concludes. Seungjae furrows his eyebrows. Sol recognises his thinking face and tries to plea once more.

“Please, oppa? You helped me check out and verify Yeseul’s boyfriend, which saved her life! Please, oppa…” Sol pleads with him. Seungjae knew how much Sol was going to dedicate to this, and besides, he was legally going to hack. He was fighting for those who couldn’t fight. What difference would it make? It felt wrong to ignore such a desperate plea.

“Fine. But you have to let me use a laptop that isn’t mine. I can’t have my superiors know I’m hacking into a case that wasn’t submitted to me again. God, Yeseul’s ex-boyfriend case got me a bloody earful from the captain.” He finally agrees, getting up from his seat and grabbing his coat. Sol lets out a relieved sigh and picks her coat too.

“Thank you, thank you!”

“Save it for later, when I’m done hacking. Let’s head back to your office for now.” He says and walks to the door. At that moment, Sol’s phone rings, and she picks up, knowing who will call at this time of the day. If it’s lunch, it has to either be Yeseul or Joon Hwi.

“Are you joining us for lunch, sunbae?” Sol takes a moment to close her eyes in frustration. This man is going to drive her insane.

“Yeah. Are you all ordering?”

“That’s right. Extra pickles?”

“Always. Add one more jjampong and kkampungi, too.” The receiving end goes silent.

“Who’s joining?” Sol gives a knowing smile as she unlocks her car.

“An old friend of ours.”

-----

“Wah, it’s been a long time since Seungjae-hyung could eat with us!” BokGi says, as he passes out the chopsticks and Yebeom unpacks the meals. Seungjae only gives a small smile while helping out with the food.

Despite the cold weather, the odd group of friends found pleasure in eating outdoors as opposed to their office pantry. It was too noisy some days, too quiet on some, and knowing how chaotic the group can get during lunch, it only made sense to have their meals downstairs at some benches. Besides, they could use a break from being stuck in their offices all day and look at trees changing their colours to shades of red, oranges and brown.

“Thank your noona here, for convincing me to come.” He says as he nods his head over to Sol, who is busy unpacking her pickles and noodles. Joon Hwi gives a smile as he stares at the delight on her face when she sees those yellow pickles on a plastic saucer.

“Hyung, what are you here for?” Joon Hwi asks, as he unpacks his noodles.

“This lady here has enlisted my help once again for a case she is working on. But it has to be off the books. Thus, my presence here instead of my cubicle back at my headquarters.” Sol chokes and she quickly takes a sip of her tea.

“Oppa, why do you make me sound so law breaking…” Sol grumbles. Yeseul, sitting next to her only gives a small smile and squeezes her hand.

“Seungjae-oppa did help me bring Yeongchang to jail. So I would consider his work, whether under his boss orders or not, to be lawful.” Yeseul quips quietly. The table grows silent for a moment, knowing how this topic took a mental toll out of them, but Yeseul was hit the hardest.

When Yeseul first started dating Yeongchang, everyone didn’t mind it. Only when Sol witnessed how Yeseul would be frightened to pick up his call and spotting bruises on her arms did she get Seungjae to dig into his personal life. Lo and behold, not only was he abusive, he was seeing two other women and they were treated badly, if not, worse.

Yeseul’s heart broke, this being her first love and the man she envisioned marrying. But with her friends' support, she took it upon herself to press charges on him, for the women he tortured and for herself. Representing herself and the women that he had failed to protect and taken advantage of, it wasn’t easy for her, having been so blind in love and still harbouring feelings.

The group stood by and silently supported. They accompanied her trials, no matter how busy they were. Sol remembers Jiho running from one courtroom to another on one occasion when he had to immediately attend a court hearing for a client he was defending. Sol had Yeseul stay over at her apartment during the entire situation, while Yeseul searched for an apartment nearby after moving out of his house. Even Sol B, who was usually cold, bought her meals and stayed to eat when the girls spent late nights in silence and drinking.

Finally, the judge ruled that Yeongchang was to be charged in jail. For the sexual, mental and physical abuse of these women, including Yeseul. It has been months since then and time can only tell how much she has healed. The rest can only give their silent support and be there for her.

“I didn’t mean to make the mood bad. Come, let’s eat. Also, what is the case about, unnie?” Yeseul quickly breaks into a smile, an attempt to let everyone know she’s okay. Sol gives a brief description of her case to everyone while she slurps her noodles and pickles.

“This is going to be difficult. If you guys are right, you might be dealing with something bigger than just Lee Manho.” Sol B states and Sol gives a nodded reply.

“Please don’t tell Superior Kim or Superior Yang about this. I really need to break this case and Seungjae-oppa is my only way to.” Sol informs her group. They give half hearted murmurs, not wanting to be meddled into Sol’s affairs. Well, all but one.

“Yah, why didn’t you come find me? I have my own contacts in the police as well.” Joon Hwi asks, a slight frown on his face. From anyone else looking, it would have been easy to miss. But for Sol, she knew that he was upset, interpreting his complaints as “Why didn’t you come and tell me about this first?”

“Because, Mr. Second Round Judicial Exam Pass, you have been too busy! Do I really need to remind you to eat every damm moment? You drive me crazy some days!” Sol argues. They launch into a light hearted argument, as the rest of the lunch group watches with equal fervour as they eat their meals.

“Guys, stop arguing, my ears hurt.” Jiho said, his tone in slight annoyance as he dove straight into the kkampungi and tangsuyuk. Sol finally gave up fighting, earning a teasing smirk from Joon Hwi. They continued their noisy meal, chatting and catching up with Seungjae. Seungjae gives them some updates of his pregnant wife and some interesting cases.

After their meal, they separated their trash neatly. The sun now hides away in the clouds, leaving little warmth against the chilly breeze of autumn. Sol brushes her coat and rubs her hands and arms. If only she could afford a better one than this old coat she’s been using since her first year in university.

Joon Hwi notices her trying to warm up against the cold and takes his coat from the chair, layering it on her. He honestly didn’t feel cold, but he knows he has always been the stronger one to resist against the cold. For Sol, it must be freezing.

“Take mine.” He simply says, taking the packs of plastic from Sol. If Sol had a hint of blush, he pretended to not notice.

“Oh, thanks.” She said as she took wipes from her bag and wiped down the mess on the benches and tables. “But I don’t need it. We’re heading back to the office anyway.” She shrugs his coat off and drapes it over her arm, returning it to him. He pushes it to her, and leans in closer to her.

“Help me carry it, so I don’t have to, sunbae.” He teases with a smirk, sending Sol in a fit of frustrated squeaks, chasing him as best as she can in her heels. Sol knows Joon Hwi gets a thing out of his teasing, and sends him annoyed glares as she continues to clear the tables. Jiho manages to sigh and Sol B rolls her eyes as she dumps the trash in the bins.

The group grabs their bags as they head back into the office, where Sol checks Seungjae in as a visitor at the reception. The receptionist hands him a blue lanyard with a visitor pass as Sol leads him to the elevators. Jiho and Bokgi are off to meet clients, and Sol B is headed to court for a hearing. Yeseul stops at another floor to her office with Yebeom, who needs to pick up some reports from a colleague.

Joon Hwi follows Sol to her office with Seungjae, despite his office being upstairs. Sol grabs her personal laptop from her bag, which is separate from her desktop computer and passes it to Seungjae, who takes a seat opposite her and starts programming the computer to begin hacking.

“What, did you just let him use your personal laptop?” Joon Hwi asks in concern as he takes a seat on a spare chair.

“Let him do it. Don’t you have your reports to do?” Sol asks as she turns to her own reports before typing in her findings for the new Lee Manho case. Joon Hwi doesn’t reply, and Sol sends an annoyed glance. He’s not going to leave unless he knows all the information of this case.

“Okay, I got it.” Seungjae says after a series of clicks and turns the screen to show Sol what he has found. Sol leans into a chart of bank transfers.

"From what I can tell, it seems like the money enters his bank account and is transferred to an offshore account. I can't trace where the money goes from there anymore." Seungjae explains as he uses the cursor to show them. "I can't tell who owns the account either. If I could take a guess, it's probably the mastermind of this."

"Wait, look. Lee Manho is getting paid a constant amount every single time before a large sum comes in and leaves." Joon Hwi points. Sol grabs her printed papers as she matches the amounts that her clients have given here. They match exactly to the large sums, but have no relation to the constant amount that he gets every scam.

"He's getting paid to scam? Tch, God, I hate this crook." Sol says through gritted teeth. Joon Hwi sighs and observes the anger rising in Sol. He places a hand on top of her clenched fist for comfort and her fist stops clenching as she sighs in response.

"Sol A, I can't track his location with your laptop. It's not exactly ideal, since it can be tracked back." Seungjae says, eyes darting while continuously typing. Joon Hwi could sense the disappointment in Sol's face, but it can't be helped. It was too dangerous from her location and IP address.

"Oppa, thank you for helping. I owe you one." Sol says as Seungjae scrubs her laptop clean from hacking traces. Seungjae returns her laptop and stands up. "You should go back, oppa. You've been gone too long."

"I'll keep you updated." He says as Sol guides him out of the office. Once she shuts the door, she pulls the hairpin from her hair and crunches her hair in frustration. She has the information on where the money is going, but it's no use when she can't find out where he is. Joon Hwi takes a seat opposite her.

"Don't stress." He says softly, and Sol bites her lip in frustration.

"Don't stress? How can I not? The police aren't giving me any information on him, delaying his location tracking! I can't even find him! How am I supposed to get evidence to charge him, if he can't even appear to show up to court?" Sol angrily spills, her hands flailing. Joon Hwi sighs but grabs a hold of her wrist.

"Don't get swayed by your emotions." Joon Hwi firmly says, sparingly into Sol's anger-filled eyes. She pulls her wrist back, taking a deep breath before gathering her hair up again.

"Fine." She grumbles. "Get out of my office, Prosecutor Han. Don't you have work?" This earns a soft smile from Joon Hwi. As he heads to the door, he turns back before he leaves.

"Don't... Don't do anything stupid or impulsive, you hear me?"

Sol clicks her tongue and gives a half-hearted nod. She turns back to her report and updates her findings and tries to diffuse the thought of asking Seungjae to hack with her laptop to find Man Ho's location.

For Kang Sol A, such thoughts don't leave easily.

-----

"You sure?" Seungjae asks, seated in Sol's car. Sol takes a deep breath in and nods.

It was a few days after Seungjae visited the office. Sol called the police as much as she could, but they always left her on the line or just said "we're working on it." Thus, Sol told Seungjae to meet her at a park, before driving to a random alley and passing him her laptop.

"Yeah, I'll take my chances." She replied. Seungjae sighs and begins typing away.

"You know you're putting yourself at risk?" He asks, eyes never leaving the screen.

"I'll put myself at risk for the justice of my clients." She says firmly. A few minutes pass as Sol stares out of the car and watches the bright moon and the clouds floating by in misty swirls.

"Got it." Sol turns her attention to Seungjae. On the screen is a map and a blinking red dot of Manho’s location. Sol reads the map and puts her car back in drive before turning out of the alley.

"Woah, do you know where you are going?" Seungjae asks, grabbing onto the overhead handle for support and his hand securing the laptop.

"Seungjae-oppa, don't tell anyone about this, okay? Especially not Joon Hwi." Sol ignores his question as she speeds up the car, turning into a drop-off point of a train station.

"Sol A, you're-"

"Sorry, oppa. But I need to find him. I can't sit and wait for the police anymore. I promise you, I'll be safe." Sol says. Seungjae couldn't say no. He knows how stubborn Sol is, how when she decides on something, she will commit to it wholeheartedly.

"If he's armed, you could get yourself in danger." Seungjae exasperatedly sighs. It was too big a risk to see the junior he treats as a little sister put herself at risk.

"I'll be fine. Look, you're on my speed dial. You know that I can handle myself. There's a reason why I took years of self-defence classes." Sol tells him. Seungjae nods his head unwillingly.

"You better call me after you're done." He says as he opens the door and gets out of the car. "Please, please stay safe." Sol nods and gives a small smile.

"Thank you, oppa." Sol drives away immediately, leaving Seungjae to pinch his nose bridge in frustration and concern. Silently, as he boards the train, he prays for Sol's safety.

-----

Sol knows the area well. As she parks her car at a carpark, she checks to make sure Manho is still at the bar. The blinking dot stays stagnant at the bar, not moving ever since she dropped Seungjae off. Getting out, she tightens her coat around her and thanks herself for the long trousers she's wearing. At least she isn't wearing a skirt, if she needs to beat someone up.

Entering the bar, she naturally takes a slow walk around. But hidden by the corner of the bar tables sit a lone man, with a cap, dressed in black button up and holding a glass of golden whiskey. She knew that was her target.

Taking a seat next to him, she orders a glass of soda water from the bartender. Man Ho chuckles next to her as he sets his glass down. Turning his head, he faces Sol with sly eyes, lips curled at the corner.

"Prosecutor Kang, you're quick." She hears him say and a chill goes down her spine. She lets her eyes meet the cold stare of Manho.

"Oh, you think I don't know you? You're the one after me more than the police are for the past weeks." Man Ho sinisterly says, a sick grin on his face. Sol grits her teeth and takes a deep breath to soothe her anger.

"Why are you doing this? You think it's fun?Watching my clients suffer?" Sol says through her gritted teeth. He only scoffs.

"My, my. Don't want you getting agitated now, don't we? We just started." He says, sipping from his glass again.

"Answer my question." She says with force. Man Ho sips on his glass, swirling the golden brown liquid against the large square cubes of ice as he exhales.

As the words fall from his mouth, Sol grows as cold as the glass in her hand. Her hands slightly shake as she hitches her breath. When her shaky eyes turn to Manho’s, his eyes are sly with a mocking grin. No, he can’t know.

"You’re just as feisty as your sister, aren’t you?”

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itsgrishaverse · 3 years

Text

TRY IT ON | MICHAEL LANGDON

mundane things with langdon edition pt. 1

gif by bethskarsgard.

How would Langdon react to even the most mundane things such as watching you trying new clothes on? I had this in mind since last night, and I had to write it down!! okay, but. this will probably have many other parts. I just love the thought of doing these little things with him and I’m certain so will you. no warnings!

At first, it was more than just a great idea. It meant that you’d be allowed to spend more time with him - away from the group of his followers and at the same time, he’d help you out. Michael seemed to have the same thought about it. He was one to have a sense of fashion after all, therefore there was no one else better around to ask. It had to be him.

The great sense of idea however, faltered as the hours went by. Both of you had come to the realization that your likes aren’t similar ; the things that you seemed to enjoy, he’d look at with a judgemental raise of eyebrows. And those clothes he’d hand you - well, there was nothing wrong with it. They were just way too expensive.

“How about this?” You stood before the mirror. It fit you. Odd, but in the good sense. Something you’ve perhaps never wore before. Catching a glimpse of yourself ; before trailing off, upon the young male who sat only a few feet away from you. He wore almost no expression which only meant one thing - he wasn’t impressed. The thought almost earned a roll of eyes. He really had no mercy when it came down to fashion, did he?

“I like it.” He began, which had you turning around to face him. Surprise was clearly on your features. Michael’s gaze touched on each inch of your body, slowly. Like if taking his own time to think about it. When he seemed to be pleased enough, those blues met yours. His finger tapped his lip. “If you’re going for the single grandma looks from the eighties, clearly.”

This time you made sure he saw the dramatic roll of eyes. Calling him impossible had him straightening up from his seat, soon to ask you about the clothes he chose for you. Expensive clothes, you mentioned. And before he’d attempt to say he’d pay for it all, he was cut off to be told this was for you. Not anyone else. This was to spoil yourself therefore you’d pay for it. The answer earned a defeated sigh, and Michael leaning back against his seat to wait.

The fourth time you walked out of the dressing room, he was already bored out of his mind. With his phone in one hand, the small furrow of eyebrows as his fingers typed let it be known it was his group or colleagues attempting to have his attention again. No surprise in it. People that never allowed him a breath for himself. “I think this one is way better, don’t you Michael?” The sound of your voice wasn’t enough to catch his attention at first. Blues remained upon the screen, soon a curve of lips followed. Who was he talking to? It wasn’t that you wanted his attention all the time, it was just that this was meant to be spent together. With a gentle clear of throat, you called him out again. Sharper. Annoyed. “Langdon.” His last name being called out made him blink away, turning to you. It took him a moment to notice the annoyance off of you which was probably what made him keep his own comments to himself. Without giving a better glance to the outfit, he nodded.

There were only a few clothes left and most of them were his clothes. A long night dress hung on the wall ; it was beautiful, there was no denying in it. It was the price that made you cringe. Anyone could easily get three outfits with that same spent money instead of one. But no one would die if you still tried it on either way. Three minutes later, you walked out - expecting to find a bored Michael waiting for you. The surprise came as no sight of him. He stood near one of the corners, with his phone close to his ear on call.

Dismissing him for now, attention was on yourself. It was a great feeling the way clothes could make anyone feel better than about themselves. It made you feel the same way. Fingers traced the sides of your body, like if thoughtful when your head tilted to the side. Was it worth to spend on? “I think it looks dazzling on you.” An unfamiliar voice brought you out of your own thoughts, just to find a male around his thirties ( perhaps ) standing by your side with own clothes hanging on his left arm. He was looking at you through the mirror, wearing a genuine smile. “If you allow me to interfere. I apologize otherwise.” Such a short interaction seemed to have called out Michael, too. Unseen by you the way his body turned to catch a glimpse of you and the other standing close by. At first, the interaction made him furrow eyebrows, however it was having a better look at you that made him lower his phone and hold back a breath.

He’s never seen you like this before.

“You think so?” A polite smile was given to them. Genuine compliments could make anyone smile, feel appreciated. “Thank you.” When a few more words were shared between both of you; he seemed a way with words which almost to have you choosing to take it with you. Almost. The moment you walked back into the dressing room, between attempting to unbutton it, the door opening behind had you caught off guard. Startled. Michael soon walked in, closing it behind.

“What are you doing?” You whispered, turning back to face the mirror. The heart felt like going out of your chest. His hands claimed your hips, bringing you closer to his chest. He breathed you in. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

“You’re not supposed to let others fuck you with their gaze either.” There was a small smirk hidden. A sign of him teasing. Even if perhaps that’s what he really believed, he didn’t accept it. His nose brushed along the skin of your neck - gently. “You’re beautiful, and mine.”

“Oh? First time you think it.” It was retorted along with the same playful tone, leaning back into his touch. Ignoring his first comment. That’d be talked about later. Such words made him frown and he found himself turning you back around in his arms. Shared glances. A gentle kiss was given by to you. Affectionate in his own way.

“I’ve always thought so.”

taglist! let me know if you’d like to be added or removed.

@9layerdevilfoodcake @matildaofoz @prophecy-is-inevitable @jimmason @angelicmichael @chickyjess19 @angxlmichael @daddy-antichrist @devilishlypretty @vulgarprayer @michaellangdonstanaccount @gardenofevil

#american horror story #Michael langdon #cody fern #michael langdon x reader #michael langdon x you #ahs fic #michael langdon imagine #outpost michael #my writing #ahs apocalypse #fluff #drama #drasangel writers

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dinopopduck · 3 years

Text

Ezekiel Only Being Unaffected By Certain Kinds of Magic

Let’s just start with me saying this isn’t exactly a new theory. It’s the demigod thing, and it’s a fairly popular one. If you haven’t heard of this headcannon, I put as much as I can find here. If you have, I found a bunch of new stuff that I haven’t seen anyone else mention, so reading this isn’t a complete waste of your time, I hope.

I tried to keep this from becoming wordy, but it got really long anyway, because there was a lot to talk about here.

Ezekiel being unaffected by magic is sort of an ongoing thing in the show. He is influenced by it much of the time, such as by Santa’s Hat, Pan’s Flute, Prospero’s spell, lycanthropy, etc. When it comes to the stuff he was seemingly completely immune to, there is one link that connects them all.

Apple of Discord: Everybody knows this one. The Apple is a Greek artifact, meant to turn you into the worst version of yourself, and Ezekiel was only one completely unaffected. It’s blamed on “he’s already the worst version of himself” or whatever.

Zeus Lightning Bolt: the episode where Ezekiel ends up decked out in Greek armor, and is sent to pick up Zeus’ Lightning Bolt, which was freaking out and zapping everywhere. He picks it up just fine, and he’s then able to hand it off to Flynn. It may have been purely because of the Greek armor he was wearing, but Flynn did not seem so sure about that working.

Cindy’s Love Potion: Ezekiel is able to be near the potion without becoming obsessed with Cindy. At first, it’s blamed on him being obsessed with himself, then later Jacob tells Ezekiel that he was already in love with Cindy. It was an obsession, not a love, potion you literally spent the episode proving that blah blah, he didn’t even recognize her at first blah blah, anyway, I have a better reason.

There are two Greek mentions in this episode. First, the potion project itself is called Project Aphrodite, a Greek goddess. Second, the sunflowers; when asked, Jenkins mentions how sunflowers are a Greek symbol of unrequited love. In addition, “love” potions may have originated in Greece, or at the very least, were common enough to have multiple sites claim that, lol. At the end of the season, where each librarian uses their gifts to turn Apep mortal, this greek potion is what Ezekiel ends up using.

See a pattern here? Everything that he was completely unaffected by was Greek in some way. So, he has an immunity to these kinds of artifacts, but why? I vote demigod.

Anyway, moving on.

Here’s some magic he could have been immune to, or could not have been. Its pretty debatable.

Fortuna: Technically a Roman Goddess, but the show does acknowledge how similar they are to Greek Gods. He may have been affected by the spell, but broke out of it pretty quick. Some think he may not been affected at all; slot machines aren’t exactly fair, especially in a casino that exists to cheat completely. As for Ezekiel getting so upset over losing, what he says, “Not the guy that loses, I’m the guy that wins” sounds very similar to what he was saying in Point of Salvation, but that’s a whole nother topic.

Alternately, he was affected and this point shouldn’t be here. I don’t know, I’m not the writers.

Libris Fabula: He was a little bit affected, just far less than the others, as he acted pretty much the same. He did get a barely noticeable clothing change, became luckier than normal, and was just able to cast a spell for some reason? Speaking out that spell, it froze the guy, and a certain Greek God does have the ability to put people to sleep. Not really the same thing, but worth thinking about. Maybe. More on that later.

Most people think he was immune, but he could have just been similar enough to the character he was portraying that he didn’t need to change a whole lot.

These ones are barely worth mentioning, because have other reasonable (though I guess your definition of reasonable may be different from mine) explanations, but you could see them as magic immunity as well:

Silver Screen: Ezekiel gets into character the least, while Cassandra and Jacob are out singing and calling people by their character names. Maybe less affected, maybe just a spoilsport. Probably the last one.

Point of Salvation: Was the only one able to remember previous loops. Since they were in a video game, it’s explained that since he was the first through the door, he became the player while everyone else became NPCs. I mean, sure.

Christmas Thief: Saint of Thieves only used his truth telly power on Ezekiel’s mother, not him. Ezekiel did not feel obligated to say anything. Could just be that the guy wasn’t talking to Ezekiel. Or, earlier in that episode Ezekiel tells his mother he doesn’t steal anymore (at least for anything other than the Library, I assume, cause he still kinda does) and therefor that made him immune to the spell, since it only works on thieves.

Image of an Image: Both Cassandra and Ezekiel got their pictures taken, and Cassandra was the only one affected by the transfer spell. However, Ezekiel wasn’t one of the “chosen ones” because he snuck in, and jumped in front of the camera while Eve (one of the “chosen ones”, who was later able to be affected) turned away. Either that, or he just didn’t have time to feel the effect, since his picture was taken after Cassandra’s, and Eve’s was placed in manually.

That’s all the possible instances of magic immunity I could think of.

Next, we have some other stuff that is relevant to this point, but wasn’t necessarily artifact/magic immunity.

Prophecy Cube: Created by the Oracle of Delphi, who is from Greek mythology. This isn’t about whether Ezekiel was affected by something, as he was still able to use the prophecy glass/get stuck in the cube. Rather, it’s about the Zeus Challenge in the cube. They probably would have died in there, but luckily, Ezekiel had just happened to steal, and keep on him, the exact thing they needed to get through– a bunch of golden coins, and a prophecy that ensures at least one coin can’t be destroyed. Luck? Prophecy? Divine Intervention? Plot convenience? Okay its probably the last one but STILL

Also, Ezekiel getting pissed at Zeus.

Zeus’s Bolt (again?): There is a promo image I think for season 4? that has each of the Librarians holding their tools. Jacob had his axe, Cassandra had a notebook, Flynn had Excalibur, all normal, except for Eve and Ezekiel. Eve had this big staff thing I didn’t recognize, and Ezekiel had Zeus’ Bolt for some reason?

Lightning, just, in general: If there is wild electricity in an episode, Ezekiel is probably around.

Examples:

City of Light: Gets shocked and knocked backwards into Jacob by a very electrified fence, gets up right afterwards and is fine.

Broken Staff: The Zeus Bolt thing, you get it.

Image of an Image: Ezekiel electrocutes Jacob. Jacob was not really fine. He lived, though.

Point of Salvation: Ezekiel electrocutes Jacob part 2 Electric Boogaloo, but this time on purpose. He was not fine. He died. But don’t worry, he lived.

Self-Fulfilling Prophecy: Mentioned a little bit above, Ezekiel, Jacob, and a student get stuck in the Zeus Challenge, and Ezekiel uses some coins he just so happened to steal recently. Throwing them on tiles shows whether or not lightning will strike if it was stepped on. Seriously, why is it ALWAYS Jacob?

The Dark Secret: Ezekiel is the one sent to wrap a cord around a lightning rod constantly being struck by lighting. “Why am I bloody doing this”, he asks? I mean, Zeus probably isn’t going to kill his descendent(?), right?

Werewolves: Have you heard of the Lycaon of Arcadia? It’s a Greek myth. Basically, this dude named Lycaon wants to test how smart and all-knowing Zeus is. To do so, he kills his own son, cooks him, and serves him to Zeus to see if he notices, ya know, no biggie. Zeus was like “wtf man” and brings the son back to life, and turns Lycaon into, you guessed it, a wolf. So, Zeus creates a werewolf of sorts, maybe one of the firsts. In Fangs of Death, Ezekiel just so happens to be the one (main) character to be turned into werewolf. So, if he was a descendant of Zeus, imagine how big of a “fuck you” that was to the god. That all being said, Ezekiel was turned by an Egyptian god, so that might not have been intentional. Also, they may have just been avoiding turning Jacob, because there is already a werewolf named Jacob and they didn't want another Twilight reference in that episode.

Family/Name: Ezekiel is adopted, and his adoptive mother mentions how she took him in off the streets. Because of that, we don’t know who his birth parents are, and whether or not he, or anyone else, knows is unknown. Soooo, we can take some creative liberties as to who his parents might have been.

As for his name, it carries some religious connotations. It should be remembered though, the meanings I’m talking about here are Biblical, not Greek, so again, might mean nothing for this argument. “Ezekiel” is “God’s Strength” or “God will Strengthen”. Jones might also be something like “God is gracious” or “God has favored”, thought different sites say different things. However, I’m pretty sure the name Jones came from his adoptive mother, and apparently Jones is a common last name in Australia. His first name is more relevant, because all of his siblings have themed names; Mercy, Charity, and Honor. So, either his mom named him differently because she knew something we don’t, or he already had the name before she adopted him. Either way, this probably means absolutely nothing. But what are we here for? To analyze a dead show like an English teacher analyzes the color of curtains in an 100 year old text. If it wasn’t for all the other stuff, I probably wouldn’t think about this too much.

Okay. So Greek stuff, lightning, and Zeus himself come up a LOT when it comes to this guy. So is Ezekiel the son of Zeus? Possibly, but a more popular theory is that he’s Zeus’ grandson. Because Zeus’ son just so happens to be Hermes; god of things such as luck, travel, money, trade, and most importantly, thieves. Oh, and animal husbandry/shepherds and sleep, I don’t know how much those apply but I will try.

Time for some comparisons, honestly most of these don’t even need to be explained so I’ll keep it short-ish, cause this shit has gotten way too long already.

Luck: Ezekiel, especially in the first season, likes to rely on luck, and tends to be very lucky in general. Examples where this is mentioned include Fables of Doom and Apple of Discord. “Smarter to be lucky then lucky to be smart!”

Travel: We can assume that he ended up traveling in his previous job (that being heists all over the world) fairly often, even before the Library. Becoming a Librarian with a teleporting door increased that of course.

Money: Steals very high-value items to sell. Also apparently likes to take money from his coworker’s wallets. And probably everyone else’s.

Trade: The aforementioned high-value pieces he steals are traded/sold for money. In Christmas Thief, we find out he kept none of the money or items, giving it away to others who needed it. That kinda fits this category, I think.

Thieves: I really don’t need to explain this. Unless you haven’t seen the show.

Animal Husbandry/Shepherds?: Basically the care of animals. Um, well he doesn’t keep cows or anything, but he has a tendency to “adopt” magical creatures that need help. Stumpy, Nessie Jr., maybe Frankenstein’s Monster as well?

Sleep: I mentioned earlier how Ezekiel froze a guy (not really in an icy way, just couldn’t move) by hitting him with his coin. Hermes is able to send people to sleep with his Caduceus (the snake wand thing). Yeah, it’s not really the same thing, though you could consider being frozen a kind of sleep. He could have just been lucky enough to find a magical coin, and lucky enough to figure out how to use it at the exact right time without even knowing what it did. It’s a stretch either way, really, and was never explained in the episode at all. Yeah, I can't find anything else that fits.

Hermes is considered to be a thief and trickster, and a lot of the things he is god of are Ezekiel’s main occupations. With all those similarities to Hermes, frequent events related to lightning and Zeus related things, and immunity to Greek artifacts, we can conclude that he is perhaps the son of Hermes, taking after his father in abilities and getting visits from grandpa.

Alternatively, his somehow IS Hermes, but I doubt that. He’d probably be way more powerful. He was also able to see the future with Prophecy Glass, which Jenkins claims is impossible for immortals to do (although in that case he was talking about a Prophecy Cube, but close enough). It’s more likely that he is a demigod.

Okay, that is all I can think of that is relevant. I binged the series about two months ago, and have been thinking about this theory. I went ahead and re-watched the episodes that I mentioned in more detail, as well as parts of others that I remebered. The reason I bring this up is because I may have missed things. I did not rewatch a majority of the episodes, more that I looked at a list of episodes on wikipedia and tried to remember what happened in them, watching clips and episodes if I needed to.

The show was cancelled, so we’ll probably never get a confirmation as to who Ezekiels’ birth parents were, and as such, you can’t prove me wrong! That being said, if I got any facts incorrect in this, please tell me so I can fix it. I’m not well versed on Greek Mythology, in fact I know basically nothing, and did the research as I went along. So again, there could be more. This is just what I found in like, less than a day of searching.

Join me next time on “How is Cassandra magical, where’d she get it from? Also, were we ever gonna meet her parents?” And “In the first episode of season 3, Jacob is just able to hit a heavy punching bag of its chain, across the room, at bullet speed, just because of a shift of his wrist, and later in that episode do the same thing to Apep, and it’s just…never addressed or spoken about again? Like wtf man?”

I'm probably not doing that

If you managed to get through all of this, thank you, and I hope this wasn’t too painful to read.

#the librarians #ezekiel jones #greek #hermes #zeus #this took so long #magic #magic immunity #theory #headcannon #demigod #curse of cindy #apple of discord #broken staff

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missdawnandherdusk · 4 years

Text

A Girl’s Choice

Draco X Reader (highschool!AU)

Summary: Everything was absolutely fine in his small town, until you stumbled in and began to defy the status quo.

A/n: So, guess who got Midnight Sun and has been reading it non-stop for the past few days? Me. It was me. So, please enjoy this Twilight Parody of our favorite characters. Also I get to move back to college in like a week and I am EXCITED--mainly because there’s a good chance that I get a room to myself bc of the virus. So yay me. I love you guys a lot and really thank you for your patience and enthusiasm. It makes me smile.

“So, Gin asked me to the dance this morning,” Harry was chatting you up—a normal occurrence before class started.

Draco didn’t mean to eavesdrop on you. He really didn’t, but he was intrigued about how this would go down. Since moving to the small town, you had been a buzz among the boys in the grade level. Draco could all but assume that most of the fantasized about you asking them to the girl’s choice dance coming up.

“That’s great!” You genuinely smiled. “You’ll have a lot of fun!”

Harry fumbled, losing his casual composure. You noted on it, and your look became more skeptical and judgmental—something Pansy would approve of.

“Well, I told her I’d think about it,”

This surprised Draco as much as it seemed to surprise you. It was no secret that star lacrosse player Weasley and Potter were all but official and had been for almost all of high school.

“Why in the world would you tell her that?” Your words mimicked his thoughts.

“Well... I thought maybe you’d... want to ask me?” He ran a hand through his usually untidy mass of curls.

Draco could not make this up if he wanted to. He barely suppressed the laugh that threatened to escape his lips. How in hell had Harry figured that you’d want to go to the dance with him? You’d been here maybe a month. As far as Draco knew, you weren’t interested in anyone. Perhaps the small town didn’t have enough shine for your city lights.

“You should tell Ginny yes, Harry,” You scolded him like a child. “It’s rude to make a girl wait,”

“Yeah, I guess,” Harry sulked, his face falling as the bell rang, signaling the start of class.

Draco couldn’t wipe the amused smirk from his face. You huffed annoyed and opened your notes, already prepping a new page for today’s lesson. You didn’t pay him any mind during class—a normality between the pair of you. Draco ignored you and you returned the favor. It was almost easier this way for him. Your shiny new toy status had no effect on him. He had every shiny toy he ever wanted. You had no appeal to him.

Harry, however, Draco stole glances over from time to time. The green-eyed jock pouted throughout the entire lesson, stealing glances over to you. You hardly noticed. Instead you were doodling in your notebook, waiting for the teacher to move on.

Maybe the stars aligned, or maybe you did fascinate him, but Draco found himself in the lunch line next to you the following day as another tried to ask you to the girls choice ball.

“So, I heard you turned down Potter,” Cedric gave off-hand. “Waiting to ask someone else then?”

Draco snorted, and this time you did give him the slightest glare before turning back to Cedric.

“I’m not going,” You answered curtly, grabbing fruit from the stand. “And no, I don’t plan on asking anyone.”

“Why aren’t you going?” Cedric almost pouted.

“There doesn’t have to be a reason.” You snapped. “I’m not going,”

Draco could only imagine the glare that you gave Cedric for him to back off so quickly. Again, a smile quirked at his lips. You might be the shiny new toy, but you weren’t going to be used like a porcelain doll.

“So, has she asked anyone yet?” Pansy asked as he sat beside her at their usual lunch table.

“She’s not going, and you totally missed her going off on Diggory,” Draco grinned. “That girl has to have a glare that rivals yours,”

“She turns down Potter and Diggory... do you think maybe she’s into chicks?” Pansy asked almost hopeful.

“Wouldn’t know and don’t care,” Draco shrugged. “Besides, she’s not going to the dance so go ask Greengrass before it’s too late,”

Pansy sulked and stabbed her salad with a bit more vigor than before.

You stormed into the chemistry classroom a bit more irritated than he had seen you in the cafeteria. He wanted to guess that another guy had tried to ask you to the girl’s choice dance because honestly it amused him to see you so upset. It was cute how riled up you could get from some unwanted attention. He wondered how far you’d have to be pushed before you actually started swinging. Maybe he wanted to find out.

“So,” He asked pointedly. “Anyone else try to ask you to the dance?”

“Oh, fuck off Malfoy,” You hissed making him grin wider.

“Well, I was wondering if—”

“If you even start to finish that, I won’t be so forgiving,” Your hand clenched into a fist and Draco thought that maybe you’d actually try to hit him, but Snape walked in as the bell rang, taking any chance away from you.

Draco sat back smugly in his chair—to your great annoyance—as class droned on. At the end of the hour Draco followed you out, calling your name. You froze in the hallway, before turning to face him.

“I’m really not in the mood right now Draco,” Your strained voice gave a hint of weariness. “What is even with you guys? Can’t you just leave a girl alone? I’m not going to the stupid dance and I’m not just saying that so I can ask someone else,”

Before Draco could get a word in you stalked away, disappearing in the crowd. And he stood there, dumbfounded. Was he not amused an hour ago about your annoyance? Did it not make him smile that you were tortured by your suitors? Why all of a sudden was he frowning and loathing Potter and Diggory—and whatever poor bloke had the unfortunate courage to ask you before class—even more for winding you up?

“It was Krum,” Pansy didn’t even say hello as she sat next to him in Spanish. “He was the one who tried to ask her,”

“She said no to Krum?” Draco’s eyebrows shot up. “You might be right, she really might swing the other way,”

“Aw, but I already asked Daphne,” Pansy pouted.

“Pans, darling, I think if anyone else breathes near her about the dance she’s gonna send someone to the nurse,” Draco chuckled. “So maybe you dodged a bullet there,”

She sighed wistfully. “Still, it’s nice to dream,”

____________________________________

“So, did you ask anyone to the dance yet?”

“Dad, I really don’t want to talk about this,” I huffed, kicking off my shoes. “I’m not going to that stupid dance,”

“Well, I know it’s probably not as glitzy as your uptown shindigs, but you should still go and have fun,” My dad set down his paper. “Make some friends while you’re here,” His tone was hopeful, as I knew it would be.

He wanted me to be happy here. He wanted me to fit in and enjoy my time in the middle of nowhere. It was a farfetched dream. But it was mine, I supposed.

“I have a few friends,” I insisted. “But I’m not one for dances... and the guys in town aren’t exactly... appealing,” I decided.

“Well, not that a father will complain about his daughter not wanting to date, but maybe you should go with a group of friends or something?”

“Everyone’s paired off, dad,” I sighed, looking in the fridge for something to make for dinner.

As I set off to do my chemistry homework, my mind meandered to my chem partner. It was out of character that he spoke to me today. Normally we disregarded another in comfortable silence. It had been that way since I showed up. And though it might have stung a bit in the beginning, I could tell quickly that Draco and his friends were the wrong sort of crowd that I didn’t want to be caught up in. The kind of crowds that I escaped by moving from my city life.

And I liked the crowd I had found; Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Neville were all very sweet and welcoming on my first day and had sort of adopted me into their group without looking back. Not that there was much depth in any of their lunchroom conversations, but at least I wasn’t alone. Hermione was the only one I could hold a conversation with—she had AP classes as I did and was a saint when I needed homework guidance.

Chemistry, however, was the one subject she couldn’t help me with. She had opted out for AP Environmental instead, claiming she had done her time with Snape and would rather dropout than be in his class another year.

So, it left me begrudgingly texting Draco about tonight’s homework. He was the only other one in class that seemed to keep up easily. Maybe it was because he was a shoe shiner class pet of Snape’s.

Malfoy: Oh, so you’re talking to me now. Don’t want yell at me again?

My cheeks flushed in anger and embarrassment at his response. He was never one to hold back what he was thinking—even if it was brutal.

Y/n: I’m sorry for snapping at you. It wasn’t fair to you. I’d give a reason, but I doubt you’d care

Malfoy: Pansy already told me that Krum tried to ask you to the dance. That’s what? Three guys now? If I hadn’t stopped her, Pansy wanted to ask you too.

Y/n: At least it would have been a girl asking me to a girl’s choice

Y/n: And you’re short one, Ron asked me too

Malfoy: Weasel? Wow. Never thought he’d have the guts to ask anyone

Y/n: He’s actually going with Hermione

Y/n: Now will you please help me on 7?

And to my surprise, Draco was quite civil about walking me through the covalent bonding prompts. It made me feel a bit more guilty about snapping at him earlier today.

Seeing how I struggled on the homework, I wasn’t surprised that Harry came over during study hall and asked me for help on the same, if not more, questions. After the first couple, he griped that I was too similar to Hermione for knowing it all. And that it wasn’t fair that it came so easily to me.

“Actually, Draco helped me,” I smiled as I showed my notes to Harry for the next question. “He might help you if you ask,”

That was a long shot. Harry hated Draco and vice versa. It didn’t take me long to figure that one out.

“Malfoy helped you? Like actually helped you?” Harry scoffed. “The little prat,”

“Hey,” I warned snatching my notes away. “If you’re not gonna be nice about it I won’t let you use my notes,”

“Oh, come on, don’t be like that,” Harry pouted. “You know I was kidding,”

“Yahuh. Sure Harry,”

“Oh, come on,” Harry tried again. “He’s a prat. Always has been,”

I rolled my eyes, not wanting to hear anymore of Harry’s lamenting, and grabbed my bag. “I’ll be in the library,”

Wordlessly I left, fuming slightly. The music from my headphones thawed out my anger towards Harry a bit as I pushed the doors of the library open and sat at a table, pulling out my calculus homework to go over it one last time.

“This seat taken?”

I barely heard the question over my music. My eyes darted up to meet steady grey ones.

“It’s a free country,” I shrugged then remembered that I want particularly irate towards Draco at the moment. “Thank you, by the way,” I murmured, taking out one of my headphones. “For the chem help,”

“I might have had an ulterior motive,” Draco mumbled, pulling out a binder.

“If you think I’m gonna ask you to the dance because you helped me with my homework you have another thing coming Malfoy,” I warned.

“I think every guy in the school has got that by now,” a smile played at his lips. “No, I... I need help in McGonagall,” He was almost sheepish to admit it.

I raised an eyebrow at him skeptically, but he did seem genuine about needing help.

“I’m not sure I’ll be much help, but I can try. My old teacher, Jones had a different way of explaining it...” I trailed off, a pang of remorse about leaving my old school in my chest.

And maybe the way Jones taught me made more sense to Draco because he did eventually start to understand the calculus on the paper beneath us. I realized that Draco was very methodical. He enjoyed having rules that worked every time no matter the question. A failsafe that kept him ahead of the curve.

“Do you miss it?” He asked as we started to pack for the next hour.

“Miss what?”

“Your old school? It has to be a lot different than this hell hole,” His words were nonchalant but still skeptical.

“It’s not so bad here,” I defended weakly. “But... I miss it, yeah. I feel like I have to prove myself all over again. Back home—back in New York no one questioned me. The teachers trusted me... the staff knew me...” I sighed. “I’m a stranger here.”

The warning bell rang and the same sense of dread that settled upon me reflected in Draco’s eyes: we were halfway across campus and there was little hope of getting to Snape’s class in the two minutes we had left.

Both scrambling, we headed for the doors and tore down the hall. I followed Draco’s path because if I was honest, I still didn’t quite know my way around the school nor the quickest ways to certain buildings.

“Miss Y/l/n,” Snap looked down disapprovingly at me. “I hope you have reason for being late or it’s Saturday detention for you,”

My anxiety spiked as I fumbled out an explanation. In the corner of my eye, I saw Harry stand, ready to come to my defense, but there was no need. Flawlessly Draco directed the attention of the irritated teacher to him with a sly smile and quick lie, that wasn’t really a lie at all.

“It was my fault,” Draco smoothed quickly. “I was having Y/n help me with McGonagall’s homework and I kept her late.”

Snape’s eyes darted between the two of us before he sighed, telling us to get to our seats before he gave out detentions for disrupting his class.

With a breath of relief, I sat beside Draco.

“Thank you,” I murmured.

He shrugged and took out his notes and homework just as Snape began to go over it. And we went back to ignoring each other. Except, this time, it deemed impossible for me not to glance at him every so often, or for my eyes not to drift to his notes on the table, making sure that I hadn’t missed anything. The hour seemed to end quicker than normal. As usual, Harry walked to gym with me, chatting about the upcoming game before the dance this weekend.

“So, you and Malfoy?” The comment caught me off guard. “I don’t like it,”

I rolled my eyes. “It’s nothing Harry,” I shrugged. “No need to let your little feud make up wild stories. He just needed help with calc,”

“Sure, the golden boy needed help with his homework,” Harry said flatly. “That’s believable.”

“And what about it is so farfetched?” I demanded.

“He’s doing it for some reason. He knows you turned me down, maybe he’s trying to get at me by being nice to you,” The offhand comment had my blood boiling.

“Are you serious right now!?” I snapped. “What is so wrong with you that you can’t see past your own ego!?”

Storming off, the only relief from my anger I was allowed happened when I ‘accidentally’ pelted Harry with a ball in the face, sending him to the nurse. When my anger faded, doubt remained. Was Draco only trying to be nice to me to get at Harry? From what I knew of Draco secondhand, I wouldn’t put it past him.

______________________________

Draco was shocked when Snape had called on you for a homework answer, and you admitted that you didn’t know. Didn’t you know that he didn’t mind you texting him about the homework? That helping you wasn’t the worst waste of his time in the world? You had done it before. Not days ago. And yet you allowed yourself to be ridiculed by Snape for your lack of habitual knowledge.

You didn’t notice the small frown that lingered on his face for the remainder of class as you kept your head down and doodled in your notebook. Deciding that he didn’t like your comatose, he did something that deemed childish: he passed you a note.

You ok?

You stared at the paper and looked over at him, biting your lip before scribbling:

Fine. Pay attention.

Rolling his eyes, he took the paper back and wrote:

I can’t if you’re over here moping.

You took the small piece of paper and crumpled it in your hands, shoving it into your bag. Draco decided to leave you alone for the rest of the hour his curiosity still burning through him. A quick meeting of Harry’s livid stare, and Draco had a better idea of what was going on. He just hoped, for perhaps the first time ever, that he was wrong.

“Oi, what the hell did you say to Y/n?” Draco demanded, singling Potter out in the hall the next morning.

His curiosity and suspicions had festered over the night. Draco had made the conscious decision to text you, asking if you needed help with chem, and your lack of response had him worrying again.

“What are you going on about Malfoy?” Ron crossed his arms, coming to Harry’s defense.

“Stay out of this weasel,” Draco hissed, noticing the crowd that began to gather around the small confrontation. Most of his attention, however stayed focused on cold green eyes.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Malfoy,” Harry tipped his chin back. “What? Is she not bowing down at your feet like you’re used too?” A laugh barked out of him and Weasley and a few other onlookers.

“At least she’s got enough self-respect to not be on her knees for you,” Draco heard the familiar condescending voice of Pansy beside him. A grin curled onto his face at her words.

Harry didn’t know what to say to that it seemed, and it further proved Draco’s suspicions.

“So, you did say something to her,” He accused. “She got her not a month ago and you’re already dragging her into our mutual hatred?” Draco wouldn’t stoop that low. It was pathetic.

“Well if you hadn’t gone and pretended to need help with McGonagall’s work, there wouldn’t be a problem,” Harry gritted, as if he had the high ground.

“As opposed to you who pretends he doesn’t need help them blames others when he fails?” Draco snapped.

There was quite a large crowd gathering around now, and he and Harry were less than a foot apart. Both boys were on the verge of snapping.

“Draco?”

Your voice was enough to distract him that he didn’t see Harry throw the first punch. Pain blistered across his jaw as fury burned in his eyes. Now the kids around them were chanting and egging on the fight. But Draco never had the chance to swing back.

Because you had drove yourself into the cleared circle and delivered a few punches of your own.

“What the fuck is wrong with you!?” You shouted at him kneeing him in the groin leaving him keeled over, groaning. “I told you to back the fuck off!”

Draco wasn’t as surprised at the comment as he was about the knowledge that you knew how to beat the pulp out of a star football player without a whim. You never seemed like the athletic type but the blood pouring from Harry’s nose begged that you were slightly more dangerous than Draco had originally thought.

“Are you okay?” Your wild worried eyes were trained on him.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” He didn’t mean for the words to be so harsh, but the hurt that flickered across your face made him regret them.

He wished he had time to explain exactly why you shouldn’t have done that, but McGonagall and Snape were already upon the scene and threatening detentions. He and Harry, of course, were called out as the other students scattered.

“McGonagall, please,” You stood loyally beside him, despite his harsh words. “Draco didn’t have a hand in this, I did.”

Both teachers raised their eyebrows in surprise. Draco just gaped at you. Harry was glaring and still bleeding.

“I see. All three of you go to Dumbledore’s office.” She said, her careful eyes not leaving yours.

Harry strode off first, perhaps feeling smug in the fact that either way, you or Draco would be in trouble for this encounter. Draco wondered if you knew you had just bought yourself three days suspension for fighting.

You were silent beside him as you flexed your hand. He pondered if you had hurt it in your fervor. He almost asked you. Then he remembered the hurt on your face at his last words and decided against it. You wouldn’t want to talk to him.

“So,” Dumbledore said pointedly. “I heard there was a bit of a skirmish today in the hall,” An amused smile sat upon the principal’s face, no doubt taking in Harry’s state. Draco wondered if his skin was bruising yet.

“It was me,” Draco said not realizing what he was doing.

“Oh, don’t you even,” You were scathing at him, your hands clenched again, pain flitting across your face—you definitely hurt your hand then. You turned to Dumbledore. “Harry swung at Draco and I stepped in. I’m the one who did it.”

“Mr. Potter?” Dumbledore raised an ancient eyebrow.

Harry seemed like he was debating whether or not he wanted to admit getting beat up by a girl. The thought made Draco smile, causing his jaw to hurt. He tried to flex it but halted when pain blossomed again.

“That’s what happened,” Harry admitted under his breath.

“And why, Mr. Malfoy, did Potter swing at you?” Dumbledore turned to him, an amused smile lingering on his face.

“I thought that Harry had said something to her that hurt her. She... wasn’t keeping up on homework and it was unlike her. After she turned Harry’s proposal to the dance down, I thought...”

“You turned down Mr. Potter’s proposal to the girl’s choice dance?” The principal turned back to you.

“His, Weasley’s, Cedric’s, Viktor’s,” You muttered, much to Dumbledore’s delight as the older man began to chuckle.

“Had quite a welcome here, haven’t you?”

“You could say that again,” Folding your arms, your face became solemn.

“And do you have a reason for your actions?”

“I don’t like bullies, no matter where they come from,” Confidence founded your voice as you squared your shoulder. Never once had Draco ever heard someone call Harry a bully. The words had always been reversed. Everyone in the school saw the reputation in Draco, never Harry.

“Well, under normal circumstances, I’d have to suspend you and Mr. Potter here, but instead, I’m suspending you from being allowed to the dance this weekend. All three of you,”

“But sir!” Harry argued.

“Not another word Mr. Potter.” Dumbledore rose from his office chair. “My decision is final.”

Three ‘yes sir’s were mumbled as the three of you filed out of the office. You began to walk away, towards your next class Draco assumed, but he caught your non-injured hand, Harry slinking away himself.

“Let me go,” You shrugged him off.

“Wait,” Draco caught up to you, blocking you in the narrow hall of the office. “Look, about what I said,”

“Forget it Draco,” You snapped, and he could see unshed tears in your eyes. “Just leave me alone,” You pressed past him with a bit more force than necessary that had him after you again.

“I didn’t mean it like that!” He called, and you actually paused, your head turning in interest.

“Then what did you mean?” Your voice with thick. “Cuz all I see is a rich little prat who can’t say thank you. Or a self-centered guy who thinks I need someone to fight my battles for me. A high and mighty guy who thinks he can tell me what to do,” Your words were sharp and snarled. “So please, tell me what you meant.” The challenge dripped dangerously from your scowl.

“I...” Draco fumbled for the right words. “I’m not worth getting suspended for,” Your anger turned to confusion, turned sympathy, turned neutral.

“But I’m worth fighting for,” It was a stubborn and bold declaration. “And I know that,” A pause as you turned to leave. “So yeah, I should have done that,”

___________________________

I couldn’t help the tears that streamed down my face as I nearly ran to the parking lot, yearning for the safety of my car. Slamming the door shut, I let out a frustrated yell and slumped in the seat.

The backroads under my tires held a calming solace as I drove the long way home. It was something that New York couldn’t replace: the backroads I had grown up on. With the windows down and the radio blaring, all of my thoughts were tuned out.

At a red light, I found the courage to call my father and explain what happened. He said I was grounded this weekend for fighting, but I didn’t mind much. It got me out of having to go to the dance, even if Dumbledore hadn’t already said I couldn’t. I smiled when my dad told me he was proud for standing up for myself and beating the hell out of Harry.

I found myself smiling as I pulled in at home. Icing my hand and popping some pain killers just in case, I scrolled through my notifications, only answering Hermione. I didn’t care what the school gossiped about or what rumors started because of the fight. Hermione just wanted to know if I was okay and if I’d want her to send the homework from the classes I missed. I told her yes to both and thanked her.

Another notification popped up.

Draco: are you okay? how’s your hand?

I stared at the notification, and instead of deleting the icon like I should have, I opened it and gazed at the words. His mood swings were giving me whiplash. I thought about ignoring it, but he had already seen that I had read it. Cursing modern technology, I responded.

Y/n: fine

Mulling it over, I sent another text.

Y/n: can you send me the chem homework? please

The messages that followed were unexpected. Steady and clear photos of his notes for the day— and week it looked like—as well as the worksheet Snape had given. I felt a pang if gratitude towards Draco in that moment and his words from earlier settled in.

Draco has confronted Harry because he was worried about me. Somehow, he had picked up on how Harry’s words had affected me and driven me into doubt and a few missing homework assignments. Tears sprung back up in my eyes without my consent. It left me regretting the words I had snapped at him earlier. I let him know as much with another text.

Draco: most of it was justified

Draco: I know I’m not the easiest person to know

Y/n: I was still wrong to say it. I’m sorry

Y/n: and you’re not so bad :)

There wasn’t a response from him for half an hour, so I settled down and began to transcribe his notes into my own notebook, then began to untangle the questions that the worksheet gave me. The crumpled note from a few days ago spilled out of my bag. I took it, unfurling it, running my hand over his words. I tucked it in my chemistry binder, smiling softly at his kindness.

Anxiety fluttered in my chest the next day as I drove up to school and parked in my usual spot. I felt torn between two clicks—probably the only two clicks this school had, and I had managed to get caught in the middle of a turf war—the thing that I wanted to escape by moving back in with my dad and I still managed to find myself in the same situations. Maybe it was just me. Maybe I was the problem.

Shaking the thought, I headed to first hour just as the bell rang in my efforts to avoid confrontation. Other than a few approving comments from my sorta friends, no one seemed put out that I had fought their golden boy. It eased my anxiety as the day went on. I was quelled a bit more when I heard that Harry wasn’t in school today. And maybe I smiled at that a bit.

“The jackass deserved it,” Ginny shrugged, “If you hadn’t shown up, I wouldn’t have hesitated either,”

She calmed the majority of my fears with her words unknowingly. If there had been one person I didn’t want to cross it was Ginny—she was fierce and took no prisoners. If the school had a queen bee, it would have been Gin.

“Is your hand alright?” Luna asked during art class. “You seem a bit off your game today,” She noticed my failing live portrait.

Luna was always quiet but observant of others, and it drew me towards the peaceful girl. Her calm nature as well as my fierce need to protect her from bullies kept me as her partner despite the seat changes in Trelawney’s art class. The teacher didn’t seem to care as Luna and I were some of her best students although Luna’s whimsical style contrasted my realistic preference heavily.

“It hurts a bit,” I answered truthfully. “But not enough to cry about,” There were yellow and purplish tinges to my knuckles, but nothing was broken.

“Everyone’s talking about it,” Luna semi-whispered. “Are you and Draco together?”

“No,” I answered a bit more harshly than I meant and refined my answer. “I was tired of Harry being an egotistical ass and dragging me into it,”

“He’s probably just jealous,” Luna gave offhand, adding some shading to her sketch. “Boys are like that,”

“Jealous? Of what?” I scoffed. “He’s with Ginny, and it’s not like I fancy anyone at this school,”

“Yes, I heard about all the failed proposals to the dance.” A smile touched her lips, “Regardless, from the outside, the only person you’ve shown interest in is Draco, and Harry doesn’t like it,”

“Well, he needs to get over it,” I muttered. “I’m not some prize to be won,”

My annoyance didn’t fade as I slumped into my seat at lunch, grateful that Harry was absent today because I might have just gone off on him again. Stupid teenage boys thinking they have some claim over a girl.

Harry was back the next day, looking worse for wear. I went to apologize, but he didn’t allow me too, saying he deserved it and the he was the one who was sorry. I wondered if Ginny had a hand in his apology. Shrugging, I decided it didn’t matter. At least Harry, and maybe everyone else at the small school, knew that I could handle myself.

The weekend passed, and I didn’t notice much. Hermione sent me a few pictures of the dance. They held no interest to me, but at least they were having fun.

On Monday, it seemed that Draco had gone back to ignoring me. At least that’s how it appeared for about the first half of Snape’s lecture. Then every so often I’d catch him staring at me, or my notes. His eyes would quickly dart down when he realized that I had noticed his gazes. It left me frowning and struggling to focus.

It was Wednesday that Hermione and I talked about the calculus test coming up on Friday. I glanced over to Draco, wondering if he’d need help or a study partner for the exam. I wondered if he’d be too proud to ask. Or if I’d be too stubborn to offer.

“Go over there and ask,” Hermione nudged my arm, picking up on my train of thought.

“I shouldn’t,” I shook my head. “Besides, you’d be a better tutor than I am,”

“Yes, but Draco doesn’t like me. You on the other hand,” An amused smile lingered on her face.

“We’re friends,” I insisted. “That’s all,”

“More than it was last week,” She pointed out. “Draco’s always been a stuffy prat, but I see how he is with you. He’s almost... normal.”

My eyes shifted back over to his lunch table, where he was hunched over a book, tuning out the dark-haired girl beside him as she prattled about something adamantly. Something the girl said must have caught Draco’s attention, perhaps she warned him about my gaze, because his eyes met mine. I looked down quickly, my cheeks flushing.

“He’s coming over,” Hermione whispered.

“Stop staring,” I hissed under my breath, breaking my own rule by looking up.

“Can I talk to you?” His voice was quiet and guarded, his eyes sliding over my company.

“What’s up?” I asked casually.

“Alone?”

I looked to Hermione who was saying if I didn’t go, she’d never forgive me with a single look.

“Sure,” I stood, gathering my things and followed him out of the cafeteria and down the halls, to the library. “Did you want help for the calc test Friday?” I asked softly as we sat at the same table as our previous encounter.

“Well, yes,” He chuckled softly. “I... also wanted to talk to you... about last week, and...” His eyes refused to meet mine. I waited in silence for him to continue. “This... this doesn’t have to be anything, and I know you’d probably rather it weren’t... but I’ve never actually...”

I raised my eyebrows, leaning closer to him, the butterflies in my chest growing more restless with each second that passed. They had begun to arrive on the day of the fight, and now it seemed like they were taking flight for the first time.

“You came here a month ago... and in that time have managed to capture every guys heart in this school and then proceeded to turn most of them down. You’ve gotten into fights and out of trouble and you’re really someone I should avoid, but... I don’t want to, not anymore.”

“You think you should avoid me?” The question was soft on my lips. His eyes flashed to mine in brief panic.

“Again, not what you think,” He sighed and scrubbed his face, then proceeded to wince at the pain that no doubt was triggered by his action. “I should avoid you because if I’m being honest, I’m not much better than Harry, and I wouldn’t be someone you’d want to be with. And it would make it easier for the both of us if I avoided you.”

“Cards on the table then?” I mused softly and he nodded, begging my candor. “I know what they say about you. And I have my own opinions, but...” I paused and smiled. “You are the first guy who hasn’t acted like an arrogant jackass to me,” Then mended, “At least in a way that hasn’t made me want to deck you,”

“That’s comforting,” A smile reached his eyes this time.

“And... if it had to be anyone... I’d probably want it to be you,” This surprised him, told by the expression on his face. “In terms of intelligence, I feel semi-confident to say that you wouldn’t drive me mad with your lack of knowledge, because most of the kids at this school are so dull,” I muttered then continued. “You’ve been kind to me, and never pushed me into doing anything I haven’t wanted to do,”

“So, you wanted to beat the shit out of Potter then?” The same smile turned to a grin.

“It was bound to happen eventually,” I chuckled softly. “You gave me a valid excuse, to which I thank you,”

“Shouldn’t I be thanking you? For ya know, being my knight in shining armor coming to my rescue?”

I laughed at his words and shook my head at his antics.

“Does that make you my damsel in distress?” It never occurred to me how easy it might be to talk to Draco, considering we’d barely said a word to each other since my arrival.

“If I must be,” He feigned distaste, the smile not leaving his face long enough to convince me of his façade.

A silence fell between us.

“Is this something then?” His words were riddled with uncertainty.

“It’s not nothing,” I offered. “But I don’t know what it is yet.”

“Would you be willing to see what it is?” Draco’s voice turned hopeful.

“If you’re willing to be patient,” My eyes met his grey ones, storms above the seas held in them. “I don’t really... date. Flings and a list of exes isn’t really on my bucket list ya know?”

“Understandable,” His smile returning. “Not that I prefer them either,”

I sighed softly. “People are gonna talk, if they’re not already,” It was a defeating thought.

“Let them talk,” Draco shrugged, lost in thought. “That’s all they do. No matter where you go,”

“It’s a bit worse in a small town,” I challenged.

“I’ll give you that,” He chuckled. “But things are a bit less scandalous in a small town,”

“Granted,” I thought of New York and how the smallest things morphed into rumors and gossip that took down empires. Here, in the middle of nowhere our problems seemed almost trivial.

“So,” He raised an eyebrow at me, awaiting my verdict.

“So,” I mimicked. “This... this can be something,”

______________________________

Draco had never once thought of dating. Ever. Whereas Pansy couldn’t wait to have her next summer love, Draco... he was reserved. Not that he ever held it against Pansy, and of course he was there to curse the name of her exes with her, but him dating? It was laughable.

He could claim that ‘you weren’t like other girls,’ but it’d be a lie. You were just the perfect mix of being like other girls that appealed to him so much. The girls he had passed in the halls for years and never once felt attraction to were now suddenly a bit more interesting. Granger had calculus with you and was very good at the subject, sharing your passion for it. Ginny had the same fire in her eyes as you did when you were angry. Even Lovegood seemed less like a spaz and a bit more down to earth in the few passing moments that he saw her when picking you up from art class.

“I might warn you,” he whispered gently the next day, hand in yours as you headed to the cafeteria. “Pansy has been dying to talk to you... so heads up,”

A laugh fell through your lips as he opened the door for you, the cafeteria, once buzzing solemnly was now almost hushed as eyes turned to the couple at the door.

“Oi! Malfoy!”

Draco tensed at the curt calling of his name but relaxed when you smiled and waved to Ginny.

“Come sit with us,” The redhead offered. “No need in you taking Y/n away from us,”

“Get Pansy,” You smiled, letting his hand go as you went to drop your stuff at the table before heading toward the lunch line.

“Can I talk to her now?” Pansy demanded.

“She’s all yours,” Draco chuckled, trailing behind his dark-haired friend, a smile resting on his face as you entertained all of Pansy’s question with unbelievable grace.

Tensions were high as Draco sat with you at your usual lunch table, Pansy on his other side, but it seemed that you, Ginny, and Hermione had the boys under control, so nothing more than loathsome glares were exchanged before the conversation settled into something pleasant.

It took a couple weeks, but the bruises on your hand and his jaw faded, then soon Harry’s broken nose was healed, and it was as if nothing had ever happened. As if it were preposterous that your group ever had animosity against another.

True to your word and his, it wasn’t exactly dating. He dedicated a lot of his effort to figuring out what you were comfortable with and what you weren’t. Something that appealed to both of you was holding hands in the hallways. The gawking faces of those around you seemed to keep a smile on your face. You had tamed the rich prat and he had tamed the spitfire in their eyes. And perhaps he was a bit kinder to those around him. And maybe you weren’t as volatile. Maybe you had finally settled into the small town.

Slowly it seemed, you sifted into the role of a girlfriend—well, whatever the equivalent was for you and him. It took some coaxing and a compromise, but you allowed him to pick you up and drive you to school—three out of five days of the week. He looked forward to those mornings and didn’t mind leaving earlier as long as you were at the end of the road under his tires. You were defiant about him paying for things, mundane things like lunch or random gifts, so he tried to keep it at a minimum, or at least didn’t let on how much he had spent on you.

Draco was never one for physical affection. His parents had been distant and reserved. Closed off. He wasn’t bitter about it, but he was worried that it might affect how he was around you. But it seems that you were a bit standoffish as well. The abrasion faded over time, but it was still never over abundant. You held his hand, that was easy and almost routine for the both of you, and though he hadn’t kissed you yet, displays of make outs in the halls never appealed to any part of him. Ever.

But he wouldn’t forget the first time you kissed him. It was a quiet night at your place after you two had studied for Snape’s final. You declared if you looked at another carbon bond you were going to scream, so you slammed your binder shut and led him to the old sofa and pulled him down, both of you nestled beside another as you flickered through TV stations, settling on something that held half your interest.

His arm draped around your shoulder, a gentle sign of affection that you returned by resting your head on his shoulder, your arm stretching across his stomach, holding him. His hand absentmindedly played in your hair, earning soft sounds of agreement from your lips as he continued. Your exhausted face in the TV light held all of his interest. The way your eyelashes fluttered eleven your eyes changed focus, or the way you worried your lip now and again almost thoughtlessly. Never knowing that it drove him mad.

Draco called your name softly, earning your attention. Your faces were inches apart and he could feel your soft breaths mix with his. Your eyes searched his for something—what exactly he wasn’t sure. But you must have decided that whatever you found was enough, because you leaned up and closed the distance between your lips and his.

He smiled at the moment and the ones that followed. The desire that built in his chest and the gentle pant of need that left your lips, flushing across his as you pulled away.

“Thank you,” You had murmured.

He smiled at you simple gratitude and wondered why you thought it necessary. Did you believe that he didn’t want to kiss you? That you weren’t constantly in his psyche? Imagining how soft and warm your skin must be? Wondering if the rest of you was worked and scarred like your hands from years of use?

Not knowing what you were thinking—or why he was for that matter—he pulled you into his lap as the two of you sat on the couch, cradling you close, letting you know that he craved your affection though he wasn’t the best at portraying the ideal.

You had fallen asleep in his lap that night. When your dad came in to check on the two of you, Draco thought your father would be furious but instead he smiled and suggested that Draco carry you to your room so that you could stretched out on your bed and sleep for the night. Those were the few moments that Draco had ever been in your room. It was one of your fathers rules—which he humbly agreed to. The sight made him smile. It was perfectly you. An organized chaos of all of your favorite things.

You barely noticed him setting you into your bed and pulling the covers over your shoulders after removing you shoes.

He preferred your home over his. It took about two months before you coaxed him into the idea of meeting his parents formally. Draco was terrified, knowing that his parents disapproved just about everyone in the town they lived in, save a few families. He wasn’t sure how they felt about the divorcee and his daughter living on the outskirts of town.

“You understand how much of a bad idea this is?” Draco hissed as he walked you up the front steps of the pristine farmhouse—it was the last attempt he made before it was too late to back out.

“They’re just your parents,” You took his hand, saying the words nonchalantly.

“That’s why I’m worried! They’re my parents!” He dismayed.

“Dray, love, it’s gonna be okay,” You reassured, and he couldn’t argue with the honesty in your eyes.

You’d never stop surprising him. He didn’t think ever. He knew his parents were hard people to entertain. There were thousands of unspoken rules that they forced him to follow and you picked up on them as easily as you knew calculus. Sit one way, speak another, you blended in flawlessly. Your persona differed from the one he knew, but it was still perfectly you.

“And you moved here? From New York?” His father eyed you skeptically.

“Father—” A cold look silenced Draco.

“Yes sir,” Your smile was sweet and conniving.

“Was the city not satisfactory for you?”

“It had a certain charm,” You spoke softly. “But I didn’t want to give my teenage years to a concrete jungle when I could call here my home,”

“Well,” Draco’s mother cut in before his father had a change to reply. “You sure do have quite a spirit in you. I can see what our Draco likes about you,”

You smiled and looked over at him. The blush on your cheeks matched his.

“Thank you,”

Lunch came and passed. If it was out of the ordinary in any way to you, you gave no sign.

You did however, pause, gazing at his grand piano that sat in the drawing room, your face pensive.

“You play?” He mused, curious. You hadn’t let on if your hidden talent.

“Not very well,” You muttered back. “It’s been years.”

“Y/n, do you play my dear?” His mother cut in. “You must play for us,”

“I...” Glancing at the piano, you caught your lip in worry.

“Mother, if she isn’t comfortable, she doesn’t have to,” Draco defended.

“No, it’s alright... you must forgive me, it’s been a few years since I’ve played properly.”

The shy smile on your face didn’t fade as you made your way to the instrument. He shadowed you all the while, asking one more time before you began to play.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Your smile turned warmer. “It’ll be alright.”

Draco watched as you placed your hands on the glossy white keys and fell into a pattern as they searched for the next note, the next chord, the next verse. And you kept forging ahead until your piece had come to an end. Draco should have known that you’d lie about having the talent tucked away.

“That was lovely,” His mother fawned from somewhere behind. “Draco you must play with her,”

The eyebrow you raised at him informed him that maybe he also hid the talent from you unintentionally. Who did you think the piano belonged to?

“Any ideas?” He muttered softly, placing his hands on the keys next to yours.

“Moonlight Sonata?” It was a simple request, and one that he knew decently enough to nod.

Draco began the repetitive harmony as you waited for the melody and joined him. Your fingers played in time and in tune as the song unfolded—your hands trailing along the treble clef and his adding in the deeper bass tones.

It wasn’t until one of his hands ran into yours that the dance faltered, and four hands banged on the keys in frustration. Draco laughed at the simple fact that you had the same response to making a mistake as he did while playing. Your soft laughter joined his.

Someone cleared their throat behind him, and you both turned, meeting the scrutinizing gaze of his father. Draco looked down anxious and respectful and you followed suit, your hand finding his in reassurance.

“Perhaps if you two had more time to practice together, you two wouldn’t be tripping over another.” His father mused.

“Father?” Draco looked up. “Does that mean?”

“Yes, she is welcomed here any time she wishes.” His father gave a small smile.

Relief flooded through both of you. Draco might have even slouched momentarily.

Masterlist

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writing-red · 3 years

Text

from the dining table

draco malfoy x reader (mentions of harry potter x reader)

summary: You and Draco broke up and he is trying desperately to get in touch with you even though he knows exactly why you aren’t picking up the phone (song fic based on harry styles’ from the dining table)

request: @runninglownad hii! can i request a draco imagine based on from the dining table by harry? thanks sooo much <3

warnings: this is super angsty, breakup, toxic relationship, sad anger and drinking

a/n: I hope you enjoy!! and photo credit to @fixedunit

word count: 2.1k

Woke up alone in this hotel room

Played with myself, where were you?

It was seven when Draco finally decided to stop fighting the insomnia. Thoughts of you claiming his mind and making him entirely unable to find sleep. The white hotel sheets were curled around him, pillows on the floor, broken glass shattered around him like an unholy halo, and the room in total disarray. He laid there, staring at the ceiling, unsure of what to do with himself, unsure of what to do with himself now that he had lost you. He so desperately wished that he could squeeze his eyes shut only to open them and find you laying there next to him, wishing desperately to see that incredible beaming smile of yours, the one that would turn your cheeks rosy red.

He rose from the bed and navigated around the mess on the floor to get to the bar in the room. With a heavy hand he poured himself a scotch, as he continued to think of you; the feeling of your lips on his, the lines of witty banter you always seemed to whip out of nowhere, and the idea that he may never hear the rasp of your voice in the morning again.

Fell back to sleep, I got drunk by noon

I’ve never felt less cool

He abandoned the glass dragged the bottle back to the bed, putting on the television as a distraction. He couldn’t seem to find a program that didn’t make him think of you, he couldn’t get the sound of your sweet and joyous laugh echoing through whatever space you held.

Tears streamed down his face as he downed the scotch, he felt like an absolute child. Crying over a girl, drinking, and sleeping. The pattern was pathetic and the last thing Draco Malfoy was, was pathetic. Yet it seems you could reduce him down to a blubbering child and all he would think of is how terribly he missed you, and how badly he wanted to smell your deep ambrosial perfume. By the time he woke up again the digital clock next to the bed was flashing 12:13 as if it was mocking him, goading him to wake up and get over himself.

We haven’t spoke since you went away

Comfortable silence is so overrated

Why won’t you ever be the first one to break?

Even my phone misses your call, by the way

Your voicemail, the one you had recorded with him, your voice was happy, and it sounded as if you would never be sad again.

“You’ve got Y/n” joyful, happy, in love. “I am buuuuusy and I am so very sorry I missed your call but shoot me a text or leave a voicemail after the beep and we shall speak at another time! Thanks.”

“Y/n, darling?” he muttered. “Look I know that I fucked up, and that you don’t want to talk but can we please just go get coffee, I want to see you, and I don’t want to end things on that note. Please, I know that we aren’t getting back together, I just, Y/n I need to see you.”

“You’ve got Y/n! I am buuuuusy and I am so very sorry I missed your call but shoot me a text or leave a voicemail after the beep and we shall speak at another time! Thanks,” Draco was mocked by the shrill beep that followed the sound of your voice.

“Hey, I’m sorry about all the voicemail’s and all of the text messages, if you don’t want to see me please just tell me so. Look I just, Y/n, I am miserable and I really just want to apologize for everything face to face. Please don’t just ignore me.”

“You’ve got Y/n! I am buuuuusy and I am so very sorry I missed your call but shoot me a text or leave a voicemail after the beep and we shall speak at another time! Thanks,” Draco listened solemnly as the voicemail played wishing this wasn’t the only way he could hear your voice.

“Look, I get it if you don’t want to talk to me, just, tell me yourself don’t just ignore me. Please,” he was desperate, to see you without tears streaming down your face, tears he had caused.

I saw your friend that you know from work

He said you feel just fine

I see you gave him my old t-shirt

More of what was once mine

Weeks past and Draco didn’t hear back from you. He knew that you were forcing him to move on and he didn’t want to accept it but he knew that he had no other choice. He was back to work, back to normal, although no matter what he did he couldn’t seem to get the thought of you out his head. He was drinking, more than usual, smoking more than usual, and he had destroyed his fair share of hotel rooms. It was time for him to start living his life again.

You had always loved coffee, going to coffee shops, trying out different drinks, people watching, you had made the whole ordeal a habit for Draco and now it was a way for him to hold onto you. He thought that if he was lucky enough he’d catch you at one of them.

Today he went before work, luckily he had skipped the morning coffee shop rush and there were just a few other people inside the shop.

“I’ll have a black drip coffee, and a croissant,” he said, handing the barista money.

“Here’s your change, and it’ll all come up at that bar over there,” she said gesturing to the end of the bar.

“Thanks,” Draco said kindly as he stepped over to where the barista had gestured to wait for his order.

“Malfoy,” he heard a familiar voice.

“Potter,” Draco said, surprised to see the man you had both gone to school with, and who you now worked with.

“Nice to see you, what have you been up to recently” Harry asked him.

“Just work,” Draco observed Harry, the man he had always been so jealous of, for a moment when his eyes caught something similar. “That’s a bit of a posh shirt for you isn’t it?”

“Ah- it was in Y/n’s flat, I mean she gave it to me because it was in her flat and it’s my size and all that.”

“Got it. I think that’s mine,” he said, his eyes still on the shirt as the barista placed his coffee and pastry on the bar in front of them. “Tell Y/n I say hi?”

“Sure thing mate, she’s uh doing pretty alright,” Harry offered and Draco nodded, swiftly exiting the coffee shop refusing the urge to start crying over you again.

I see it’s written, it’s all over his face

Comfortable silence is so overrated

Why won’t you ever be the first one to break?

Even my phone misses your call, by the way

Potter. You had to choose Potter of all the men you knew to sleep with. It was as if you were trying to hurt him, trying to drive the knife further into his heart. That night Draco proceeded to call you all of thirteen times, four of the calls sober, and the other nine varying levels of drunk until he finally blacked out.

All he wanted was to hold you one more time, to hear you talk over a movie, shout out the lyrics to some old Bon Jovi song, watch you dance atop your kitchen table, you were always the perfect antagonist to silence and now it seemed that silence was all he could hear. People would speak to him and he couldn’t hear it, he would try and remember the sound of you, your singing, your voice, your laugh, but his memories of you were only pictures.

Maybe one day you’ll call me and tell me that you’re sorry too

But you, you never do

The ringer on his phone was always on, and when it buzzed he picked it up as quickly as a man could. Although, he was routinely disappointed to find that it was either Blaise, his boss, his mum, or a hotel calling to let him know of the damages done and the charges he would incur. But it didn’t matter, none of those calls mattered because they weren't you.

He just wanted you back, and all he could do was call and call, while picturing you lying in Harry Potter’s arms. You had chosen to be with Potter, and you had chosen to leave Draco, and Draco just couldn’t cope with your choices.

Woke up the girl who looked just like you

I almost said your name

He didn’t know this ones name, and he didn’t know the last one’s name. These girls that circled through his bed, each of them vaguely resembling you in one way or another. Today he awoke to seeing your nose, and your hair on someone else. Sleeping with these women upset him more than it comforted him, but it was at least something to do with himself.

“Y/-” he stopped himself. “Hey, I’ve got to go to work.” He said, shaking the girl awake.

“Can’t I just leave after you?” She groaned, her eyes still closed.

“No, get up,” Draco said as he got out of bed and pulled the duvet off of her. “Now,”

“Fine, I’m going,” she said, taking her time to draw herself up. “And I promise I won’t be back.”

And there she went, another person lost whether he wanted her or not. All he knew how to do was drive people away. He didn’t want to get over you, ever since your trip to New York you had been the love of his life. But now he resolved to living his life as a ghost, constantly in terrible silence without you.

Comfortable silence is so overrated

Why won’t you ever be the first one to break?

Even my phone misses your call, by the way

Taglist - @sarcasticallywitty15 @fred-love-bot

#Draco Malfoy #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco fanfiction #draco x reader #draco malfoy x reader #Draco Malfoy angst #harry potter x reader #harry potter fanfiction #from the dining table

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lustbile-archive · 4 years

Text

[5:52PM]

smut

Your body squirms against the soft fabric of the bed at the warm and tacky feeling of the lipstick tugging at your skin. His dampened breath hitting your skin with every exhale adding to the sensation, making your nerves stand on end and your toes curl.

Lucas always had a habit of presenting the objects he had accumulated on his shopping trips as if they were newly discovered inventions, and with his excited puppy dog eyes, you could do nothing but give him your full attention as he showed you each trinket or new article of clothing. You usually showed excitement, or at least feigned it, but when he pulled out a cheap tube of red lipstick you could only tilt your head in confusion.

“You didn’t have to buy me lipstick,” you attempted to argue. It’s not that it wasn’t a pretty shade, but you had enough tubes holding similar if not the same shade mix into your makeup. That, and just looking at it you knew the cheaper brand would never wear long enough to excuse you wanting it in the first place.

He only grinned, all teeth displayed and a devious glint in his eyes, as his head shook slowly. The lipstick danced in his long fingers as he played with it, his eyes moving across your face and body as you sat curled at the head of the bed.

“It’s not to wear,” he slips his blunt thumb nail in the seam under the cap, the quiet click of it opening only adding your confusion, “well not on your lips at least.”

He had seen it in a porn. Of course he had, and ever since, the idea of writing whatever he wanted across your bare skin in the bright red hadn’t left his mind since. Maybe he wouldn’t write things as degrading as the ones used in the film, but he wanted to write something. The idea of decorating your skin in color outside of the dark marks he liked to leave with his mouth, made his blood rush around his body.

You agreed. How could you not? He seemed so giddy with the idea of marking you all up, and the lipstick was already purchased and opened. All you could do at this point was take off all your clothes as per his gentle request, and lay yourself bare to the adventurous boy.

He lost his shirt, mumbling something about not wanting to ruin the fabric the way he had let you in the past when the colors you’d like to wear would transfer onto his neck and inevitably the collars of his shirts. He left his jeans on, the rough fabric already tighter around the crotch as he loosely tied your hands above your head and around the posts at the head of the bed with the black tie he kept for special occasions.

“Don’t want you to hinder my artistic process,” he quipped, his nose stuck playfully in the air as he situated himself between your open thighs. You stop yourself from telling him that he could just admit he likes seeing you bound and powerless when the fingers of his empty hand brushes gently against your ribs.

His broad back hunches slightly as he leans over your body, his hand starting to gently knead at your flesh, while the other gently shakes while holding the lipstick over your body.

With a whispered reminder to not twist too much of the product out, or it might break against your skin, he makes his first mark.

You’ve felt lipstick on your skin before, a quick kiss landing on the back of your hand to take off the extra product, or a swipe against the inside of your wrist to test if the color would clash with the tone of your skin. But instances like those were nothing compared to the tentative strokes he made below directly below your collarbone. Maybe it was the idea of him marking you with something so visible, or the wet kiss he placed next to whatever he drew, but whichever made your hips stir in response. Your toes curl against the sheets of your shared bed when your small movements cause the rough fabric of his pants to dig gently into the dampening skin between your legs.

“So pretty,” he speaks almost as if he’s been hypnotized as he travels further down your torso. His marks get more confident as he moves, and his mouth gets more aggressive. Not only was he now adding heated kisses to each drawing, but also bites that were likely to bruise as his teeth sink into your skin.

Your mind is too cloudy to be able to feel exactly what he writes onto your skin, but with the time he spends with what wraps around the swell of your breast, you know he’s graduating to longer words. You almost ask what he’s written, but the words die on your tongue when his lips wrap around your nipple.

He’s always been a bit messy, and now is no exception as his drool slowly slips down the side of your chest and curls around your back to wet the sheet below you. His front teeth nipping a few times at the stiffened skin before he pulls away to blow cool air onto it. The whine you let out in response pulls a boyish laugh from his chest before he returns to his job of decorating your skin.

You can only imagine that you look like a mess as he continues to add to the collection of words on your skin. A long pull on the skin of your stomach makes your brain swim with curiosity and your lower belly warm with anticipation at what you must look like.

Your eyes had slid closed in the time he spent drawing on you, only for them to snap open at the clicking sound of the lipstick hitting the hardwood of your floor. He must have thrown in behind his back as he decided he had written everything he wanted. His now free hand moves to your side to brush his fingers against your ribs. Your back arches into the air when the flat of his warm tongue drags against the skin at the center of your rib cage and his other hand finds itself wedged between your bodies to tease the warmth between your legs.

He hums into your skin in response to every whine you let out at the feeling of his mouth moving against the span of your stomach and the feather like swipes he gives to the skin of your core that’s being made slick by your arousal.

The pleas you let out into the stuffy air of your room is his favorite sound, and the one thing that makes him tease you for longer than you're used to. He’d always seemed keen on spoiling you, but now it felt like centuries before his ring and middle fingers dip into your entrance to collect your dripping arousal onto the tips.

He presses his fingers deep inside you, thrusting a few times, before pulling out to flatten to long digits against your hypersensitive clit. His sharp teeth nip at the swell of your chest in time with the moment his fingers begin to circle the buzzing bundle of nerves.

Lucas feels like a breathing furnace as he’s pressed against your already heated skin. His unrelenting fingers and heated breath has you hurtling towards the edge far sooner than you anticipated. The way your hips jump and move in time with his fingers, paired with the high pitch of your whine is all he needs to tell that you're reaching your finish.

All at once, he lifts away from your body, his hands moving away as if you’ve suddenly become electrified. Being denied an orgasm so abruptly rips a desperate whine from your chest as your legs tense around his hips as if they won’t stop you from clamping your thighs together to gain some friction.

He has the nerve to laugh at the way you desperately squirm, a goofy grin pulling at his lips as he leans over your body to undo the knot of his tie.

“Hey now,” he shushes you while massaging the irritated skin of your wrists, “you’ll get to come don’t worry. Just want you to see how pretty you look when you do.”

He pulls you from the bed by your wrists, moving your body in front of his to walk you to the mirror he had put into the wall across from the end of your bed. ’It just makes it easier to get ready,’ he promised you and your friends when they questioned the design decision, but you knew him well enough to know watching himself fuck into you was something that sent his brain into a spiral and made his blood boil. Your friends were probably equally aware of the mirror's real purpose with how shamelessly handsy he was with you at any given time of the day.

You shuffled to stand in front of the mirror, a petulant put on your face as you move your fingers to rid them of how stiff they were from gripping the posts.

“You could have at least let me come once,” he stops you crossing your arms when he grabs your wrists again and pulls your hands to cross behind your back.

“You’ll get to come if you shut up and look,” you stop whining to look at your forms in the mirror, the sight in front of you flushes your skin with a blush as you see exactly what he’s done to you with the lipstick.

The decorations start innocently enough at the space below your collarbones, little hearts scattered across your skin and curving around the dip of your sternum. What causes the embarrassment that roars in your ears is what he wrote further down on your torso.

Sweet names like “baby” and “lover” are placed on the space below your chest and across your ribs, the hearts still making an appearance.

It’s not until you see what he’s written on your stomach, that you curl in on yourself and try to hide yourself in his chest. The word ‘mine’ is written right above your belly button in all caps, the red of the makeup making the word harsh and possessive. The idea of being claimed in such a raunchy way is enough to make you squirm, but the large arrow he’s added to point directly at the space between your thighs hits a place deep in your stomach.

“Aren’t you so pretty?” he traps your wrists in one hand, bringing the empty one to your front to pet your belly. The lipstick smudges slightly from the motion of his fingers making you whine at not only his praise but also his lingering touch.

“You’re my pretty baby aren’t you? Decorated all nice for me hm?” your blush only darkens at his words and the muscles of your thighs tense. You feel your breath pick up and become shallow at the sound of him putting his hand between you again to undo the fastening of his jeans. The rustling of fabric fills the room as he moves to pull himself from the inside of his underwear. You quietly moan when the dampened head of his cock hits against your tailbone, “my pretty baby is gonna let me fuck them deep and hard too aren’t you?”

His hand kneads roughly at the flesh of your ass as he waits for a response, the way his eyes stare intensely into yours puts your brain on slow motion and delays you from forming a coherent response.

A sharp sting against your skin and a loud smack fills the air of the room in response to your lack of answer, the burning pain makes you yelp before you're eagerly nodding your head.

He smiles widely at your response. His fingers soothe the skin he hit, before he returns to hold himself in a fist. He slowly pumps himself between his fingers before he’s dragging the tip against your skin.

You can’t help but jump every time the head digs into your clit, your hips stirring when he presses only a inch or two into you.

“Xuxi please,” you beg, your fingers flexing around nothing making your nails scrape against his wrist. A rumbling laugh shakes his chest at your neediness.

You quietly gasp in unison when he finally begins to press into you. The size of him never failing to knock the air from your lungs as he stretches you and presses against every nerve inside you.

Once he’s fully seated inside you, he releases himself and lifts his hand to wrap around your neck. Your head falls back onto his shoulder when his fingers dig into your jaw and he slowly starts to thrust into you.

The pace of his hips are rhythmic and sharp as he focuses on reaching as deep inside of you as possible. If it wasn’t for the grip he had on your neck, your legs would have buckled and you would collapse on the floor.

“All mine,” he speaks sharply through his gritting teeth, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, before he turns your head to press your mouth tightly together.

A deep rumbling moan leaves your mouth and invades the space of his, when he dips his tongue in to lick at the back of your teeth.

His hips don’t falter once as he pulls away from the kiss to look into your eyes. An uncharacteristically mean look dances in his eyes as he holds your mouth open with his fingers.

“Open wide sweetheart,” his hips begin to move faster, the vulgar sound of your skin smacking against each other fills the empty space around you as you look up at him with innocent and desperate eyes. The look of confusion that flashes across your face makes the corner of his lip lift with a grin as you watch his tongue move across his top teeth as his mouth stays closed.

The devious wink he offers is the only warning he gives you before his lips pucker softly, and he harshly spits into your open mouth.

He quickly moves his hand to close your mouth and press his palm flat against it. Your head is pressed harshly against his shoulder once again, as the hand that was holding your wrists let’s go to move back to between your legs.

His fingers immediately find your sensitive clit, rubbing harshly as he laughs at you again. He thrusts slow to harsh deep presses. He barely moves out of you and grinds against the sensitive spot deep inside of you.

Your thighs clamp around his hand as he forces you to your end faster than your body is ready. If it wasn’t for the hand pressing against your mouth, the sound of his thrusts would be covered by your wails of pleasure.

“You get to come this time okay? Can you come for me?” the deep rattling voice in your ear is almost unrecognizable. The dark commanding tone it holds pushes you even closer to your orgasm and your toes begin to curl into the wood of the floor, “look at my baby going dumb just from a good fucking? Why don’t you come?”

Big tears roll down your face as your orgasm begins to slowly bite at you. It feels like pleasure crawls from between your legs and up the length of your spine before your eyes are rolling back and your groaning into his open hand.

His fingers never move from your clit as the way you clench harshly against him throws him into his own orgasm. Harsh grunts hit your ear and incoherent mumbles about how tight you feel and how wet your cunt is for him fill your muddled brain. The warm feeling of him spilling deep inside you makes your legs shake and your nails claw into his pulsing hips.

It feels like years that you two are stood there pulling aftershocks from the others bones, and it’s not until you scratch at his wrists that he releases you.

You would have undoubtedly landed flat on your face if his long arms hadn’t wrapped around your waist to pull you into his chest. He’s still seated inside you as he sit down on the end of your bed, holding you in his lap as he rests his forehead between your shoulder blades.

You hum quietly as you lean back into him, once again getting to look at the words he’s written onto your skin. The marks are now smudged and unreadable, the only thing still visible is the large ‘mine’ that points to the space that he’s pressed into.

You two sit there absorbing the warmth from the other's body, your nails gently scratching at his arm as he rocks you back and forth.

A petulant and grumpy grunt is heard from the boy below you as you stand on shaky legs. The feeling of his softening length slipping from you and his come rolling down the inside of your thigh makes you gasp, but you continue to walk a few steps to grab the object that has caught your eye.

He’s leaning back on the palms of his hands when you turn back around, an arrogant smile on his stupidly pretty face when he sees the way the evidence of his orgasm starts to dry against you.

“Don’t look so happy Lucas,” you offer him a tired smile as you straddle his lap. His eyes grow wide when you open the lipstick and begin applying it to you chapped lips, “cause I think it’s your turn to get decorated nice and pretty hm?”

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theseusernamesarehard · 3 years

Text

Stuck in the middle - Fred Weasley

Inspired by the song Stuck In The Middle by Tai Verdes

Lyrics from the song are bolded.

Summary: Y/N catches Fred Weasley’s eye one day, but instead of agreeing to a date, she calls him out for his player ways making him even more obsessed with her. The two keep balancing on the line between friends and more, but can’t seem to cross over onto either side.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Ravenclaw!Reader

Warnings: cursing, some very light allusions to smut

Word count: 3.7k

(gif isn’t mine credit to whoever made it!)

Fred Weasley was certainly known around Hogwarts, for better of for worse. During his six year run at Hogwarts, he had amassed quite the reputation. Teachers knew him as one half of their nightmares, the Weasley twins, while most students, especially female ones, knew him as the fit and charming prankster who seemingly couldn’t stay single for too long.

“What’s got you so focused Fred?” George grinned at the Great Hall, watching his brother.

“Seems to be the Ravenclaw table. Who could it be? Any guesses, guys?” Angelina replied.

“Cho Chang?” Lee tried.

“Hmm...No, he’s looking a little bit left to her”, Katie said.

“I think it’s the girl a few seats over. She’s in our year right?” Angelina suggested.

“Yeah, she’s in my numerology class, I think. Y/N L/N”, Alicia confirmed.

“So you going to talk to her?” George asked, but he ended up having to wave his hand in front of his brothers gaze to get him to focus. “Fred?”

“Huh?” he seemed to snap out of something. “Sorry, what’s up?”

“We were just discussing the target of your admiration”, George said.

“What are you talking about?” Fred laughed.

“You not being able to keep your eyes away from the Ravenclaw table”, Angelina smiled. “Who were you looking at?”

“No one”, Fred replied.

“Really? Not even Y/N L/N?” Alicia asked.

“So that’s her name.”

“Are you going to admit that you were staring?” George asked.

“I will neither confirm nor deny that statement. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go”, Fred said after noticing the girl exciting the Great Hall. He got up and went after her, eventually falling into pace with the Ravenclaw.

She raised her eyebrow at him, having never even shared a class or talked to the boy.

“Looking for something?” Y/N asked.

“I was. The most beautiful girl ever. Lucky for me, the search is finally over”, he said and caused her to roll her eyes. “Like the line, eh?”

“If by ‘like’ you mean ‘find incredibly corny and almost embarrassing’ then yes. I love it.”

“Good, because there are many more where that came from. You can find those out, if you agree to go to Hogsmeade with me this Saturday.”

“So you’ve come to ask me out?”

“It seems as though I have.”

“Unfortunately I’m going to have to decline.”

“What? Why?”

“I think you know why.”

“I cannot think of even one reason why you shouldn’t give me a chance.”

“You’re a player, aren’t you?”

“Not into quidditch guys then?”

“The other kind of player. The type that plays with girl’s emotions instead of bludgers.”

“Sounds like you don’t know me at all. I’m nothing like that and if you gave Hogsmeade a chance, I could prove it.”

“Trust me, Fred Weasley, I know you quite well. And from what I know, you’re a player, whether you choose to ignore it or not. I’m very sorry, but my answer is still no. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to get to the library”, she said and with that, left him standing at the corridor.

“Judging by your expression she turned you down”, George said as Fred entered the Gryffindor common room.

“Sure did.”

“Why? I mean, we don’t blame her but for some reason girls usually find you utterly irresistible”, Lee asked.

“Not all girls”, Alicia noted, Katie and Angelina nodding.

“Sorry, all girls that don’t know him.”

“She claimed she did know me. Called me a player and walked off.”

“Quite rude”, Lee said.

“But understandable”, Angelina added.

“Don’t you accuse me of that as well”, Fred groaned.

“Well the time between a relationship ending and a new one beginning has usually been suspiciously short when it comes to you”, Katie said.

“I prefer to think I just go with the flow.”

“I think there have been more than a few instances where you have also blatantly disregarded girls’ feelings”, Alicia pointed out.

“Fine, maybe I am a bit of a player. But I don’t think that means she shouldn’t give me a chance.”

“She probably just doesn’t want to waste her time. You have a reputation and if she knows that, I don’t blame her for thinking you’re going to break her heart”, Alicia said.

“Well I guess I’ll just have to convince her I won’t.”

“Why not just let it go? I mean I’m sure there are other girls at Hogwarts who would die to go on a date with you”, George asked.

“Because this is now about me proving her wrong.”

Next weekend at Hogsmeade, Y/N was walking around the village with her friends, chatting about pretty much nothing when she felt a hand tap on her shoulder. She turned around to a grinning Fred Weasley.

“What do you want?” she asked him.

“Christ, what happened to the act of greeting someone? Just a simple hello, how are you?” Fred pouted.

“Don’t have a lot of time, had to cut to the chase”, she replied bluntly.

“I’ll be quick. Mind if I borrow her for a second?” he asked her friends, who all replied with enthusiasm.

“No, not at all. Take your time”, one of her friends smiled.

“Make it quick”, Y/N corrected as she let him drag her away from her friends.

“Just wait a second.”

“Waiting is literally the opposite of quick.”

“No, slow is the opposite of quick.”

“Well waiting is very slow, so my point still stands.”

“As much as I would love to argue this with you. We’ve arrived at our destination”, he said and gestured at the sign of Three Broomsticks.

“I thought I made myself quite clear when I declined you offer”, Y/N noted.

“Ah, but you see you declined my offer of a date. Now this is another offer. How about we go to Three Broomsticks as friends?”

“Why do you want to do that? It seems quite hard to believe there are no underlying motivations here.”

“What on earth could those be?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Perhaps you want me to come here as a friend with the hopes it will turn into something more? Which then means that you aren’t asking me as a friend.”

“You are right and wrong. I do have other motivations, but I am not asking you for anything more than your friendship. I want to prove you wrong.”

“Prove me wrong? About what exactly?”

“About me being a player.”

“You can’t fool me like that. There isn’t a lot that you can do to make me change my mind.”

“Why don’t you try me on that? I know you wanna be friends.”

“Fine, one butterbeer and no funny business.”

“You won’t regret it.”

And to (Y/N)’s surprise, she didn’t. Fred was good company and she ended up having fun.

“So you’ve finished your drink. One could say our deal is up”, Fred smirked.

“Are you trying to justify any funny business? Because I was just starting to think you might not be such a prick after all.”

“Ha! So I proved you wrong then?”

“No. I said you might not be such a prick. And besides, being a player doesn’t require being a prick.”

“Well, how can I prove you wrong?”

“You don’t have to.”

“I kind of do.”

“Why?”

“I tend to be quite stubborn.”

“Well you can’t really change my mind on this.”

“How are you so sure?”

“Because I tend to be quite stubborn as well.”

“So I suppose there’s no dating you anytime soon then?”

“No, but friends does sound pretty good”, she smiled.

But friends turn into sleepovers, AKA long nights in the common room, that might have ended in one of their dorms a few times. And after some time, sleepovers turn into love or at least something similar to that. The only problem with that happened to be that neither expressed those feeling to one another. They didn’t know what they were or if they even were anything. They hadn’t had the need to figure their relationship out, until one day.

“Hello? Fred? Freddie? Frederick Gideon Weasley!” George said, trying to get his brother’s attention. Fred didn’t seem to notice him, eyes fixated on an exchange at the Ravenclaw table, until his brother poked him in the side quite harshly.

“What?” he turned.

“You’re staring like a creep”, Katie noted.

“This time there isn’t really a need to guess who it is though”, Lee smirked.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Please! I saw her sneaking out of your bed just two nights ago!”

“Who?” Fred tried, but knew all hope was lost at that point.

“I saw Y/N. There is literally no need to hide it, because you two are so bloody obvious.”

“No we aren’t!” Fred argued.

“Please, Fred. We’ve all seen you two sneak out of corridors looking a bit disheveled”, Angelina said.

“Not to mention all the times she’s come to the Gryffindor common room”, Katie noted.

“As friends! She’s come up to hang out with us as friends!”

“And yet somehow you two are always the last one’s there. Alone.”

“And somehow that always ends up either with me having to hear you two making out on your way up the stairs or me having to wake up to you sneaking back to bed at five am!” George joined.

“So will you just admit that you two are together?” Angelina asked.

“No! Because we’re not. I-I don’t what we are, but clearly we aren’t together”, he said, nodding towards the Ravenclaw table, where Y/N seemed to be talking with some Durmstrang boy.

“Ah, I see the problem”, Alicia said.

“That doesn’t mean anything, though”, George comforted.

“Please. She’s been laughing at his jokes for the entirety of dinner and even did the thing where she flings her hair over her shoulder”, Fred said, plopping his head in his hands.

“Maybe she doesn’t want to get any hair in her mouth?” Lee tried.

“See this is completely ridiculous. She clearly thinks she can’t trust me and I bet she’s just been using me this whole time. Lucky for her, two can play at that game.”

“So you’re just going to prove her point about you being a player?” Katie asked.

“No, I’m going to show her that I don’t care about what she does.”

“Sure, that seems like the healthy thing to do”, George muttered.

“Angelina, I need you to do me a favour.”

Love turns into jealousy and now we both fucked up.

Y/N was just about to walk out of the Great Hall, when she heard Fred at the Gryffindor table.

“Angelina, want to go to the Yule Ball with me?”

Of bloody course. Y/N had known about Fred’s reputation with girls and that was the reason she didn’t want to go out with him in the first place. She was supposed to be smarter than that! But she couldn’t help developing feelings for him after finding out how truly charming he could be. It wasn’t her fault that he always managed to make her laugh of roll her eyes with his cheesy lines. It wasn’t her fault that he somehow always managed to win at exploding snap. And it certainly wasn’t her fault that she couldn’t help kissing him back when he leaned in one night at the Gryffindor common room.

She originally hadn’t had any intentions to do anything with the Durmstrang boy, even though he was relentlessly flirting with her, but after seeing Fred so casually ask someone else to the ball, clearly without even sacrificing a thought to her, she was fuming. So like any sensible person, she turned around and went to find the boy. He was still in the Great Hall, so making sure that she was in hearing of the Gryffindor table, she asked him if he would like to go the ball with her. To which he agreed very excitedly, to Fred’s annoyance.

Fred and Y/N didn’t talk for the entirety of the time leading up to the Yule Ball, both mad at the other person.

“Y/N, it’s completely okay to be upset about the Fred thing”, one of her friends said carefully at dinner, the day before the ball.

“I’m not upset!” she snapped. “I knew something exactly like this would happen, which is why I didn’t date him!”

“Perhaps you were never official, but it was quite obvious something was going on there. You don’t have to try and deny that.”

“Whatever, let’s talk about something else. I’m sick of him.”

“I’m sick of her!” Fred said the same day at the Gryffindor table.

“I’m starting to be too with having to hear him complain about her all the time”, Lee muttered to the others.

“Why won’t you just talk to her”, George suggested.

“Because there’s nothing to talk about”, Fred claimed.

“Then what have you been babbling on about for the past two weeks? It’s always Y/N this and Y/N that”, Alicia said.

“She’s right. If I have to hear about her and that Durmstrang boy one more time you’re going to the ball by yourself!” Angelina claimed. “It’s already bad enough you used me to get revenge on her.”

“Not my fault you owed me one. A favour is a favour and you can’t not do it anymore.”

“Still, just talk to her. Please?” George tried one last time.

“No. She made her choice and I am completely okay with that.”

But he wasn’t. Everyone could see that. If only he could see that Y/N wasn’t close to okay either. The two should’ve seen this coming, both of them having admitted to extreme stubbornness right from the start, but they didn’t.

So needless to say, neither of them was having much fun at the ball. Both jealous and mad at the other person.

“That’s it. I can’t take this anymore”, Angelina sighed. “I’m taking matters into my own hands.”

Before Fred could say anything, she had walked off to Y/N and her date, who were sitting at one of the tables, not talking to each other.

“Hi Y/N! Would you mind if I borrowed your date for a second? Mine seems to be no fun”, she smiled.

“Umm...I guess I don’t?” Y/N said, confused as to what was happening.

“Great! You can definitely borrow Fed for a dance if you’d like.”

“I don’t think that’s a good ide-”, Y/N tried, but was interrupted by Angelina grabbing her hand and leading her to Fred.

“You two have fun!” Angelina smiled and returned to the Durmstrang boy.

“I had no idea she was going to do that”, Fred assured.

“It’s fine”, Y/N sighed. Both of them just stood there awkwardly for a moment.

“I think we don’t really have any other choice, but to dance”, Fred said.

“I guess we don’t”, she smiled slightly.

They went up to the floor and danced silently to a slow song. His hands placed on her waist and hers wrapped around his neck.

“So...a Durmstrang boy, huh?” Fred asked after a while.

“Angelina, huh?” Y/N asked back.

“Owed me a favour”, he shrugged slightly.

“Why would you ask her as a favour when half of Hogwarts would’ve loved nothing more than to be your date?” Y/N laughed.

“Perhaps, because the one girl I wanted to go with was clearly planning on going with someone else”, he said. They were quite literally dancing on the line of something neither of them truly wanted to admit to.

“Who?” Y/N asked.

“Wow, for a Ravenclaw you don’t seem to be that smart”, he laughed. “I err...I wanted to ask you.”

“What?” her eyes were wide with shock and disbelief. “You’re joking, aren’t you?

“Why would I be joking?” they had now stopped dancing, both just staring at each other on the dance floor.

“Because you’re the one who asked Angelina first!”

“I only asked Angelina, because you were clearly flirting with the Durmstrang boy!”

“I wasn’t flirting with him!”

“You asked him to the ball, didn’t you?”

“I asked him because you had asked Angelina right in front of me!”

Fred couldn’t help, but to stat laughing uncontrollably.

“What?” Y/N asked, not seeing what was so funny about the situation.

“This is ridiculous!”

“Why is that?”

“I thought you were flirting with the Durmstrang boy, so I got jealous and asked Angelina, which made you get jealous and drove you to ask the Durmstrang boy!”

Now Y/N was starting to laugh too, seeing how ridiculous their situation truly was.

“We’re both bloody idiots, aren’t we?”

“Maybe idiocy loves company too”, Fred smiled and finally closed the gap between them.

After breaking apart from the kiss, which had started out innocent, but had been well on it’s to getting them both kicked out of the ball, the pair noticed way too many grinning faces around them. Y/N was quite sure she saw a few of her friends exchanging coins.

“I think I could use some fresh air”, Fred said, glaring at his friends.

“Me too, How about a walk around the garden?” Y/N smiled.

The two left hand in hand followed by a choir of ‘ooh’s produced by their friends, which they chose two ignore. As soon as they had sat down on the grass under the grass, Fred tried to lean in, but she stopped him by putting her finger on his lips.

“I want to talk with you”, she said.

“That’s new”, he smirked.

“Shut up”, she rolled her eyes. “I feel like tonight and everything leading up to tonight kind of proved something.”

“Proved what?”

“That we need to figure this out.”

“What’s there to figure out? You like me, I like you. Let’s just go back to how it was a few weeks ago.”

“Are you serious? Everything is to figure out. We’re stuck in the middle of lovers and friends. Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed it too. We’re not dating, but we’re not friends, we get jealous, but don’t say anything about it, because we’re not together. But if we were just friends, we wouldn’t have any reason to be jealous.”

“It’s not ideal, is it?”

“We’re losing every part of the benefit.”

“I wasn’t planning on admitting this, but you hurt me more than I ever knew” he said and Y/N saw a veil pulled back, a mask of confidence being removed. Fred had wanted to keep up the player reputation, but he found out just how bitter his own medicine tasted. “And it’s shitty ‘cause I’m doing the same to you.”

“We’ll figure it out”, she promised, placing her hand on top of his. He looked up at her sparkling eyes.

“The moonlight really does you justice you know”, he said quietly.

“Same goes for you too”, she said back, their faces now mere inches from each other.

And without realizing, they didn’t talk about well...anything for the rest of the night, especially not about what they were. But luckily, Y/N was determined to not put the conversation off for another day. So at breakfast the next day after the ball, she went up to him at his table.

“Have any time?” she asked.

“Always for you, love”, he smiled sheepishly. “Don’t wait up!” he yelled to his friends as she grabbed is hand and dragged him away.

“An empty classroom, eh?” he wiggled his eyebrows as they arrived to the destination.

“Keep it in your pants, pervert. We still haven’t talked.”

“Right. I guess we did get a little distracted last night.”

“Are we exclusive or not?” she asked, wanting to get the conversation over with.

“I don’t know. What do you want to do? Seems like you love me a lot.” he grinned.

“Can we stop the joking and take me seriously?”

“Fine”, he sighed. “I’ll do my very best, bu we’ll have to wait and see”, he promised while leaning in.

Their problem seemed to be that with them talks turn into sleepless nights and sleepless nights turn into love. For Y/N, love turns into impatience.

“You still haven’t answered me”, she cornered him one day in an empty corridor.

“About what?”

“What are we?”

“I did answer you. I said we are whatever you want us to be.”

“That’s not how it works! Both of us need to agree on it. You saying you’re fine with everything means that you don’t want anything serious!”

“No, it doesn’t.”

“Yes it does. It means that you just want to keep doing whatever you want with whoever you want!”

“Don’t put words in my mouth! I haven’t been doing anything with anyone. This is just about you not trusting me!”

“No, this is about you avoiding every conversation I try to have about this, which is why I can’t trust you. You’re clearly just waiting until you eventually get sick of me and want to move on with as little breaking up and guilt as you can!”

And now we both fucked up.

“So you still think of me like that? A player who is just waiting for an opportunity to jump on the next girl that comes by, huh?” he asked, hurt by her words.

“Nothing has changed since the Yule Ball. We’re still stuck in the middle.”

“You need to understand that I don’t want anyone else. If I have to be stuck in the middle with someone, I want to be stuck in the middle with you.”

He pulled her in for a hug. Tighter than any other one before. It was like he was scared of letting go. Their problem was how bad they were at feelings. Especially their feelings for each other, that were growing stronger by the moment. ‘Cause fights turn into making up and making up turns into love. Neither of them were brave enough to admit that they were falling in love with each other. Not to themselves, and certainly not to the other person.

“I want us to be together”, Fred murmured into her hair.

“What?”

“You’ve asked me a million times what I want us to be and I didn’t want to admit this because...I don’t know why. Perhaps because I’ve never cared about what anyone thinks of me as much as I care about what you think of me. And besides, relationships turn into love and-”, he took a deep breath. Y/N saw that this was another one of those moments when the mask of confidence and cockyness was being removed. “Love turns into forever and to be honest, that scares me.”

“I think that scares both of us.”

“Lucky for you, I’m a Gryffindor”, he smiled, the mask not coming back, but a slight glimmer in his eyes appearing. “Facing fears is kind of our thing. So what do you say Y/N? Want to be with me forever and ever and ever?”

Y/N replied by simply kissing him.

“Is that a yes or-?”, he asked once they broke apart.

“You’re even dafter than I thought, Weasley. Of course it’s a yes. I want to be yours forever and ever and ever and ever-”, she mocked.

“Just shut up and kiss me again.”

And she did. They both broke up with wide smiles on their faces.

“So you’re my boyfriend now, huh?”

“I’m sorry did you prefer lover?”

“Certainly not, I think boyfriend will do for now.”

“As you wish, girlfriend”, he grinned, nudging her slightly.

“Don’t say it like that. Its making me want to go back to friends.”

“Unfortunately you’re stuck with me for forever and ever and ever, remember?”, he said cheerfully and put an arm around her shoulder.

“At least stuck with you and not stuck in the middle.”

#fred weasley imagine #fred weasley #ravenclaw #hogwarts #fred weasley x reader

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heliads · 3 years

Text

Troubled Waters Chapter 2: The Summoning

Strange happenings are starting to plague Beacon Hills. Scott McCall and his pack have always been able to defend their hometown no matter how dangerous the threat, but they may need the help of mysterious newcomer Y/N L/N.

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For a moment, everyone is silent. The chatter of nearby students fades to a distant hum, and all Scott can focus on is the words that just left Y/N’s lips.

Beware the naiads.

In a second, Scott’s trance breaks and he blinks to regain his concentration. “The naiads?” Stiles looks confused. “What are naiads?” Y/N looks down at the paper, and then back at the gathering of bewildered friends. “They’re these water spirits from Ancient Greece. They used to live in rivers or any source of fresh water, and they were often worshipped as minor goddesses.”

Malia squints at Y/N, trying to figure something out. “Could they, say, control water and make it move around like crazy?” Lydia sends a warning glare at her friend, but Y/N doesn’t appear to notice anything. “Yeah, they could probably do that. Most naiads would stay in a specific area or region, and they could control the water in that area.” Malia leans back, nodding and looking thoughtful.

Kira looks at the paper again. “Is there anything else you could tell us about the message? Like, which naiads or how to find them?” Y/N looks over at her, curious. “Well, I could probably help you with researching them, but I don’t think we could actually find any. They’re mythological entities, they don’t actually exist.” Her eyes clear. “Oh, is this for a project? I thought some history or English teacher was doing something like this.”

Stiles’ eyes go wide. “Yes! Yeah, that’s it. A project. Definitely, definitely just a project. I mean, who would believe in mythological creatures, you know?” Scott raises his eyebrows at that, and turns his gaze back to Y/N. “Would you mind helping us? You seem like you know the most about these naiads, and where to start looking.” Y/N nods happily. “Sure! Meet you at the library today after school?”

Scott and his friends readily agree, and just like that, the pack has their first lead. As the bell rings and everyone disperses to their classes, Scott can’t help but think more about the events of that lunch. Are naiads the latest threat to Beacon Hills? How could he stop something that could control water? Hopefully, Y/N will help them uncover something helpful, like wolfsbane for mermaids or a naiad-proof symbol that could be carved into the boundaries of the town. Scott laughs quietly to himself at that. Maybe his curiosity is making him a little paranoid.

By the time Scott makes it from his last class down to the library, Y/N and his friends have already claimed a table in the back. Stiles has his laptop up and running, scanning Wikipedia pages and different Greek Mythology websites. Lydia has pulled a bunch of books from the library shelves, and she and Kira are paging through them.

Scott pulls up a chair, sinking down exhaustedly. “Hi! We’re just doing some background research, nothing much so far.” Y/N greets him cheerfully and Scott smiles at her, grabbing the nearest book and starting to flip through it.

They end up spending about half an hour in the library before they have to leave. Between lacrosse practice and general protection of Beacon Hills, none of them have a whole lot of free time that they can spend on research. Scott bids his friends goodbye, and, slinging his backpack onto his shoulder, walks out of the library and into the fresh sunlight of the afternoon.

Scott’s just about to start up his motorcycle when he sees Y/N walking home. An idea pops into his head, and he jogs over to her. “Need a ride? I can take you home on my bike.” At the sound of Scott’s voice, Y/N smiles at him gratefully. “Actually, that would be great, thanks.” She follows him back to the motorcycle and hops on behind him, accepting the offered helmet and wrapping her arms around him to steady herself. As the bike takes off, she leans into him, and Scott realizes he is all too disappointed when he finds himself coming to a stop at her house.

His mom had always been a stickler for manners, and so Scott walks Y/N to the front door of her house. Just before she unlocks her door, though, Y/N turns to Scott with the air of someone desperate to get something off of their chest.

“Look, I’m sorry for intruding on your project so much. I’m kind of feeling bad about it now- I’m not even in your group and I feel like I’m already too involved. I didn’t mean to take it away from you, I guess I just got excited about the topic. I’ll back off, I promise.” Scott looks up, surprised. “Oh, no, it’s nothing like that. Trust me, we are desperate for your help. I mean, without you we’d still be staring at that piece of paper. If anything, I’m sorry that we’re forcing you to do all this research for a project that isn’t even yours.”

Y/N grins at that. “Well, I’m glad you still want me around. See you tomorrow, Scott.” With that, she slips inside her house, leaving Scott with a smile spreading across his face. Tomorrow afternoon cannot come fast enough.

Now that Y/N has been reassured that the group wants her there, she throws herself into the project. She finds websites exploring every detail of the naiads, pictures of ancient murals, and any tidbit of information that could possibly be helpful. However, Scott knows that they’ll have to come clean about the true purpose of the project. He and his pack had had a long discussion the previous night about just how to tell Y/N that naiads and the supernatural were all real, and living in Beacon Hills.

Scott folds his arms in front of his chest and turns to Y/N, who closes the top of her laptop when she notices his gaze. “What’s up?” She inquires, and Scott mentally prepares himself. “Have you found anything in your research about how to summon a naiad? Like how to capture one or where to find one?” Y/N’s laugh is a little incredulous. “Well, I don’t think you’d really need to know. You know, you actually haven’t told me much about the goal of this project. Surely your teacher left you with some clues or something?”

Scott lets out a troubled breath, fixing Y/N with a steady gaze. “We lied to you about that, I’m afraid. See, the thing is, there was never a project. We needed your help with finding out about these naiads because they are real, and in Beacon Hills. We have to find and capture one because they are a real, legitimate threat to the town and everyone in it.”

Y/N is silent for a moment, and Scott notices that there’s absolutely no emotion in her face. No fear, no shock, no surprise. Nothing. Is she really taking the news that well? Then she speaks, and Scott realizes that it’s actually going a lot worse than he had hoped.

“You know, when you first came to me about the naiads I thought you were just really excited about this project. I thought that you truly wanted my help, and I’ll be honest, you did a really good job of convincing me that you had the purest of intentions. Tell me, were you really planning on humiliating me this entire time? Did you really think I’d fall for that? Man, I was just thinking you guys were maybe even friends of mine. All for what, so you could prank me into trying to track down mermaids?”

She heaves a disgusted sigh, and roughly sweeps her laptop and books into her backpack before storming out of the library. The pack exchange similar expressions of worry, alarm, and guilt before Scott hurries after Y/N’s retreating figure.

He manages to catch her just before she leaves the door. The hallways are empty of students, as everyone else has left school, so he feels no shame in calling her name. “Y/N, wait! I swear, we weren’t trying to trick you.” She spins around, looking at him bitterly. “Then what was the point of that? Are you really trying to tell me that you honestly want help in tracking down a mermaid?” Scott sighs, then nods. “Yes, we were. And before you go, please hear me out.”

Scott glances quickly down the halls, making sure nobody can see them, then speaks quickly in a low whisper. “I can prove that it’s real. All of it. You just have to promise not to tell anyone.” Y/N looks curious now. “Okay, I promise. What’s your proof?” Scott checks one last time to ensure that they are alone, then makes his eyes glow the crimson red of the True Alpha. He extends his claws from his right hand, and Y/N stares at them.

Her eyes are wide, from fear or shock he cannot tell. She stands there for a moment, Scott too nervous to say or do anything. How is she going to respond to this? Then, she speaks slowly. “What are you?” Scott puts away his claws. “I’m a werewolf.” Y/N nods slowly. “A werewolf. Cool. So, a werewolf wants me to help track down a mermaid. Okay.” Scott looks at her uncertainty. “You’re fine with that?” He notices that she doesn’t seem afraid, just a little overwhelmed. Y/N just shrugs her shoulders. “I’m sure it’ll hit me harder once I come to terms with it, but for now, I guess I am. Time for more research?” Scott breaks into a relieved laugh. “Yeah, let’s do that.”

Scott’s friends look just as grateful as he feels to see Y/N walking back into the library with him. She sits down, then looks at each one of the friends in turn. “So, if he’s a werewolf, what are the rest of you?” Stiles raises his hand. “Well, I’m just a human, but Lydia’s a banshee, Kira’s a kitsune, and Malia’s a werecoyote.” Y/N raises her eyebrows. “Wow.” Kira smiles comfortingly. “Yeah, it’s a little much, but at least you know we aren’t being mean, right?” Y/N smiles in return. “Definitely. Now, let’s see about finding a naiad.”

They work for a little longer before Y/N plops a book down into the center of the table. She and Lydia have been poring over some chapters, and they seem to have found the right thing. Y/N points to a selected page. “Look here- to summon a water spirit, all you have to do is say this chant thing, and they’ll be bound to you. It looks like they’ll use mountain ash-” Malia cuts her off. “Check, got that.” Y/N flashes her a thumbs up and continues reading. “Mountain ash and this chant, which they have written here. It’s in Ancient Greek, but I think all you’ll have to do is just sound out the syllables and you should be good to go. Who’s going to read the chant?”

She is greeted by dead silence. Y/N looks at each one of them in turn. “Come on, surely you’re not going to make me do it? Wouldn’t it be better if a supernatural being said the chant than some human who read about it once?” Scott lays a hand on her shoulder encouragingly. “Honestly, I think you would be the best one to do that. You’re the only one who understands Ancient Greek, and that would most likely be best for reading the chant. I mean, if I tried to say it I’d probably end up just saying some random gibberish that wouldn’t work. You’re our best shot at this.”

Y/N still looks unconvinced, but she eventually relents. “Fine, I’ll do it. It’s pretty easy anyway, only a paragraph. So, when are we summoning this naiad?” Lydia looks to Scott. “What about tonight? I can get us to the lake house, so we’ll have a body of water to reach the naiad.” Scott agrees. “It’s better to find out what’s going on with the naiads sooner rather than later. Are we all okay for naiad-summoning tonight?” Stiles shrugs. “Well, I’ve got nothing better to do. What’s wrong with a good night of talking to mermaids?”

They all disperse back to their houses, preparing for the events to follow. Scott grabs a jar of mountain ash, and double-checks to make sure he’s brought the book with the summoning chant. By the time Stiles arrives in his Jeep to pick him up, Scott can feel the stress building. “Come on Scott, it’ll be fine. Don’t worry.” Scott sighs. “I hope so.”

Lydia greets them once they arrive at the lake house, with Malia and Y/N sharing a ride shortly after. Kira is already out back, preparing mountain ash borders just in case. Before he knows it, it’s time for Y/N to summon the naiad. She gives Scott one last worried look. “Are we sure this is a good idea?” Scott wraps his arm around her comfortingly. “Don’t worry about it- you’re practically fluent in Ancient Greek and I know you’ll pull it off just fine. Besides, it’s supposed to follow your every command and if not, you’ve got a small gathering of supernaturals ready to defend you.” She smiles at that. “Well, let’s get started.”

Y/N takes her place at the dock. The rest of the pack is circled behind her, mountain ash at the ready. Y/N flips open the book to the proper place, and starts to read. The Greek words flow from her mouth as easily as if they were her natural tongue, and as she gets farther along into the chant, the water starts to churn and eddy just like it had that weekend. Y/N doesn’t let it affect her, though, and she keeps reading. Just as she finishes the chant, the water starts to swirl into a whirlpool just a few feet away from the edge of the dock.

Y/N backs away, apprehensive, as a figure emerges from the center of the whirlpool. It walks slowly across the remainder of the water separating itself and the dock, and then climbs up until it’s standing opposite Y/N, beads of water dripping off of it and onto the wooden planks of the dock.

Scott stares at it. Although they’d been presented with more than enough proof that the naiads were coming to Beacon Hills, he still wasn’t sure that it was real. This presence before them, though, is more than enough to convince him. Its skin is tinted blue, shining and ghostly in the rising light of the moon. Its hair is soaking wet, plastered to its shoulders and back. Pearls and shells adorn its clothing, which is light and silky. Its eyes glow a blue of the ocean, twin sapphires that seemed to hold the world’s seas in the depths of their gaze.

It opens its mouth and speaks to Y/N, addressing her in a glossy voice that reminds Scott somehow of the glide of foam across ocean waves. “Greetings, sister. You have my command.” Y/N stiffens almost imperceptibly. “I don’t know who you are or what you’re doing here. Are you a naiad, one who sent the message to those gathered here a few days ago.” The naiad’s eyes dart to the gathered friends. “Yess, I am.” Y/N nods, drawing up the courage to look the naiad dead in the eyes. “I order you to follow me.”

She leads the spirit off of the dock and into the circle of mountain ash. Just as planned, it flies up and encircles her wrists like chains. Y/N speaks one last line of Greek from the book, which causes the naiad to fall to the ground, unconscious. Y/N looks up at her friends, an incredulous smile starting to creep across her face. “Well, we did it. One naiad.”

tag list:

@savingprivatecass

#teen wolf #scott mccall #scott mccall imagine #scott mccall x reader #scott mccall imagines #teen wolf imagine #teen wolf x reader #teen wolf imagines #teen wolf series #scott mccall series

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spencersstrawberryjello · 3 years

Text

Inside Scoop (Chapter One)

Chapter One - The Greatest Regret of my Life

Previous Chapter < - > Next Chapter

Chapter Summary: Dahlia Silvers is on her way to work when she makes a horrifying discovery that will change her life... and lead to her getting tangled up with the Behavioral Analysis Unit.

Chapter Warnings: Swearing, descriptions of corpse (violent death), police interactions (please let me know if I missed anything)

Word Count: 2417

A/N: Yay new story!! Ok, two quick things I need to mention before we get into it: one, I have absolutely no clue about the roads in DC and I merely listed two ones that I knew were on a corner. And two: I also have no clue where the Washington Post office is, and am not trying to make any claims about the company in any way, it’s just a reputable news place in DC so I wanted to use it for the story (please don’t sue me Jeff Bezos). Ok that’s all - hope you enjoy!! :)

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It was raining.

I knew we were supposed to get a short shower this morning, but I still groaned as I walked out into the disgusting downpour bombarding the streets of DC.

The only positive thing about days like this was the lack of people on the sidewalk. Generally everyone was dashing to the subway before they could get too soaked, but I only lived a few blocks from work. So I elected to walk.

Usually, that was fine. I had my umbrella, and I got into the office in about fifteen minutes, give or take a few. After that I got my writing assignments for that day within ten, and I got to work.

Usually.

The smell hit me first. Initially, I thought it was just rotten fruit, or something similar that someone had thrown out, but the closer I got the more it smelled rancid, impossible to describe.

The next thing I noticed was the bag.

The woman’s purse had been thrown from her hand. Or maybe it had fallen, I had no way of knowing. All I knew was that I saw it sitting on the sidewalk at the mouth of the alleyway I was about to walk past.

One of the greatest regrets of my life was picking up that purse.

Because when I picked it up, I had to turn and see who it belonged to. And that’s when I saw her.

I wasn’t sure how long the blood had been pooled around her body, but it was dried on the concrete. Her head was twisted at an unnatural angle, revealing the deep slash wound across her throat. Her hands were bloodied, and I had no way of knowing if it was her blood or someone else’s. All I knew was that this woman was dead, and there was no way in hell it was due to natural causes.

The combination of the sight in front of me and the smell of decay permeating the air sent a wave of nausea through my body, and my eyes watered as I turned away, vomiting on the sidewalk not far from where the woman laid. I fumbled to pull my phone out of my pocket, my hands shaking as I dialed 911.

“911 what’s your emergency?”

“Someone’s dead. It’s a woman, she - I was on my way to work, and I just found her - holy shit…”

“Ok ma’am, I’m going to need you to calm down please, everything will be ok. Can you tell us where you are right now?”

“Yeah, yes,” I forced myself to breathe, stepping out to the edge of the sidewalk in an attempt to read the street sign in front of me. “Right by the corner of 9th and G Street NW. There’s an alley a few feet away from the intersection. She’s…” I turned back to the woman’s body for a moment before forcing my eyes away again. “I don’t know what happened. It looks bad, I -”

“It’s ok ma’am. What is your name?”

“Dahlia. Dahlia Silvers.”

“Ok Dahlia. Is there anyone else with you? Or around you?”

I scanned my surroundings before responding shakily, “No.”

“Is the woman alive?”

“No.” I don’t know of anybody who could survive their throat being slashed.

“Ok. A team is on their way, but I need you to stay calm for me, ok?”

I nodded, despite the fact that she couldn’t see me. “Alright.”

“Good. Can you stay on the scene so that investigators can speak with you when they arrive?”

My first thought was that I was going to be late for work. It’s actually kind of funny, in retrospect, how unimportant that is compared to the discovery I just made. But the thought was still there.

“I think this would be a valid reason to call in sick.” I replied. The woman on the other end of the phone laughed lightly.

“Yes, I think it would. Would you like me to stay on the phone with you until the team arrives?”

“No, I’m just… I’m going to walk away a bit? Is that ok? I can’t… I mean, I’ve seen pictures and videos of stuff like this, but I didn’t think it would be so -”

“As long as you’re nearby, everything should be fine. It’s understandable that you would need to move away from the body.”

“Ok. Ok,” I took in another deep breath, “I’m ok.”

“A team should be there in a couple of minutes.”

The line went dead, and I sunk down against the wall of the building by the alley, far enough away that the smell of death couldn’t follow me. I felt like it was in my clothes, in my hair; for a second I thought I was going to throw up again, and I put my head in my hands, forcing myself to breathe until the investigators arrived on the scene. I had half a mind to realize that it wasn’t raining anymore, but I couldn’t be bothered to figure out where I’d dropped my umbrella. My clothes were sticking to my skin, and everything on my body felt viscerally wrong.

It wasn’t like I hadn’t seen images of dead people before; I was a young adult, and I liked movies. Obviously I was used to gore. But the stench… nothing could’ve prepared me for that.

I was surprised at the sheer number of people that showed up: I mean, there was a CSI van, which I expected, but a black car pulled up behind them, as well as two city police cars. Immediately, the CSI team got to work, and the rest of the people began piling out of their cars. The first person to take notice of me was one of the police officers, and he immediately made a beeline for where I was sitting on the sidewalk.

“Are you Dahlia Silvers? The woman who called in the body?” He asked. I nodded, and he held out his hand to me, helping me up on unsteady feet.

“Thank you.”

“‘Course. Now, I’d like to ask you a few questions if that’s ok?”

I nodded again, and he began a surprisingly long tirade of questions. Why was I passing by, where was I going, did I walk this street every day, what did I see first, did I touch anything on the scene, did I know the woman, had I seen anyone else - everything I should’ve expected but didn’t even think about in the wake of everything I’d just witnessed.

I answered accordingly: work, work, yes, the purse, the purse, no, no - I mentioned that the vomit was mine, and that I’d picked the purse up with the intent to return it to whoever dropped it. I mentioned that the first thing I picked up on was the smell, and that I had no idea what happened. Only that my day was perfectly normal, and then -

“Excuse me, officer?” A new voice cut into our conversation, a woman. I turned to look at her, noticing the FBI logo on her jacket immediately. “I’d like to speak with Ms. Silvers for a moment, if you don’t mind?”

“Of course Agent,” He nodded, rejoining the larger group that we were standing a bit away from. I knew he was still watching me, but I couldn’t be bothered to worry about my status on this case’s suspect list right now. I was still trying to process the fact that there was a fucking dead body about five feet away from me.

“Dahlia Silvers?” She asked, as if she didn’t already know. I nodded, and she smiled, introducing herself as well.

“I’m Special Agent Prentiss, I’m with the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit.”

Immediately my brow furrowed with confusion. “What are you guys doing here?”

“Well, we study -”

“No, I’m sorry, I should’ve been clearer: I know what the BAU does. What is the BAU doing here, in DC?”

“We’re investigating a string of recent murders, and we believe that this one is most likely connected to the case.”

“... If there have been enough murders here that your team needed to come down, why aren’t any of the news stations covering it? I haven’t heard anything about this.”

“We’ve put a block on most of the press until we can gain a better understanding of the situation. I understand why you might feel betrayed by the media -”

“It’s not like that at all,” I rushed to correct her, not realizing I’d cut her off again, “I’m a journalist. I work for The Washington Post. Our office is like three blocks away, that’s where I was headed when - when I saw her.”

The woman nodded, a sympathetic expression on her face. “I’m sorry that you had to see all of this.”

“Thank you,” I gave her a small smile. I did appreciate it, but honestly, I’d recovered from the sight pretty quickly. I’d started working in crime journalism recently, and that came with it’s fair share of gruesome images and stories of tragedy flooding my computer. Hence the reason why my lack of knowledge on these murders was a concern. “I’m just confused as to why I didn’t hear about the murders, while working for a news site. It would make sense for a few stories to slip through, or for our CEO to announce something to us writers - how the hell did you manage a full media block?”

She laughed a bit at my bluntness, but said, “We got here very shortly after the first murder. We were able to restrict almost all stories about the event immediately.”

“Almost all? No, you guys got all of them - I have a keyword filter set up on Google to email me whenever a seemingly newsworthy event happens in the surrounding area, and I feel like ‘local murder’ would definitely count as newsworthy.”

“That’s… surprising, but it makes sense. Never underestimate the power of Jennifer Jareau - that’s our press liaison, she handles -”

“Oh yeah, I know her! I’ve spoken with her a few times when you guys have had cases in DC.”

“Right! Yeah, she’s great…” She got a sort of far-off look in her eye for a moment before she cleared her throat, “But that’s not what I’m here to talk to you about. I know that you spoke with the local police already, but I was wondering if you’d be willing to return to the station with us so we could interview you a bit further - you’re not under arrest, you’d be free to go at any time, we just have a couple more questions.”

I was hesitant, but at the same time, there was an itch in the back of my mind. An itch to know more. If this was a chance for me to find out what’s been going on, no way in hell I’m saying no to that.

Plus, if I did say no, that would be incredibly suspicious.

So I nodded, allowing Agent Prentiss to lead me back to the black vehicle that arrived with the slew of police cars. She opened the passenger door for me before shouting to someone who I’m assuming was one of her coworkers.

“Reid! Stay here and investigate the scene - I’m going to escort Ms. Silvers back to the station, and I’ll be back to pick you up.”

I heard a faint response before she shut the passenger door, climbing around to the other side and allowing me a glimpse of whoever she was talking to.

He was standing on the pavement, still looking at the car, nodding as I’m assuming Agent Prentiss said something else to him. The blue sweater he had on over his button up presented an interesting contrast between the pantsuit I’d seen Prentiss wearing, and the ridiculous query of the nature of the BAU’s uniforms crossed my mind before I turned my attention back to the matter at hand.

The matter at hand being, of course, discreetly staring at the man in front of me.

His curly hair rested almost at his shoulders, and I was mesmerized as I watched him speak, one hand flying and the other holding onto a thin wooden cane. Finally, he nodded definitively before turning back to the crime scene, and my eyes snapped to the driver’s side door as I heard Agent Prentiss slide into the seat next to me.

“Oh please, don’t let me interrupt your staring at Dr. Reid,” She held up her hands in mock defense, trying to keep herself from laughing, “I’m merely the driver.”

“Sta - what, I wasn’t staring, I -” I immediately started to defend myself (even if I totally was staring at Dr. Reid), but Agent Prentiss laughed again.

“Relax, Ms. Silvers. I’m only teasing. He is quite a good-looking man, isn’t he? Not my type, but I’m not blind.”

I blushed, acknowledging her statement with a nod as she put the car in drive, pulling away from the curb. As we started down the road, the full weight of the events that just occurred finally hit me.

I found a corpse.

I was on my way to a police station.

I might be the main suspect in an ongoing murder case. I hadn’t actually asked about that yet.

It was almost as if Prentiss had noticed the shift in my mood - honestly, there’s a chance she actually had, she was a profiler - because she broke the silence with a question.

“Ms. Silvers? How are you feeling?” She asked. I just shook my head.

“Please, call me Dahlia. And honestly, I have no idea how I’m feeling. I… well, I’m sure I don’t need to say that nothing like this has ever happened to me before.”

“I’d be surprised to hear you say it had,” She laughed. I laughed a bit too, though I couldn’t ignore the anxiety eating at me.

“I’m pretty sure I haven’t processed it yet,” I said honestly.

“You’ve gone through a lot in the last hour,” She agreed, “And I hate to say it, but you’re going to have to go through a little bit more. We’re here.”

We pulled into the police station, and she put the car in park, hoping out. I followed suit, and we both headed up the walkway to the front doors.

I was practically trembling with nerves, but at the same time, excitement coursed through my veins at what I might learn.

The BAU might’ve put a blockade on the media from the outside, but I was getting the inside scoop.

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emrysaf · 3 years

Text

A-Z Affection Prompts

Spike - V (Vows)

Here it is Anon! Hope you and whoever else reads it, likes it!!! Like I replied to your ask, this RAN away with me. So, it is LONG. Sorry?? - EmrysA

“Vows are powerful things," he said. "They set things in motion.”

― John C. Wright, Orphans of Chaos

You knew you weren’t the first mortal that had been wooed by a demon of the night. Whether that be by an actual demon, a vampire or any and all things in between. You knew most mortals that had been on the receiving end of said wooing were very, very dead now. You also knew the type of mortal this specific, bleach-blond vampire had claimed to love before.

And if anything, you were nothing like the infamous slayer; Buffy Summers.

William “The Bloody”, aka Spike, and yourself had been dancing around each other for years. Due to your innate ‘fight’ response when confronted with a flight or fight situation, Buffy had saved you some time ago and as luck would have it you became a part of the Scooby Gang.

However, in high school, you had been a few grades below them all and still felt like more on an outsider in the group. This would lead you to sitting just outside the group or a step back from them on “missions” which Spike picked up on.

--“Us outsiders have to stick together,” he said one day after he yanked you by the collar of your sweater to avoid getting your face scratched off by a demon.--

There had always been a sense of comaraderie; a closeness. But you could see, despite the closeness and your budding feelings, that the undead, brain-chipped man only had eyes for the gorgeous slayer. And who wouldn’t? So, you tucked it away and told yourself it was a teenage crush.

Then there was Glory and Buffy sacrificed herself.

Eventually Willow brought her back, but she was. . . Different. This Buffy seemed to, maybe, feel the same for Spike that he had been feeling for her.

When that song and dance demon came you were more than happy that everyone else seemed to be paired off. No chance for a song to force it’s truth out of you. But before he was officially gone, you had seen them. Together.

You broke that little bit more. No, not break. Your heart was torn that bit more.

As an outsider, without a love or a love to recover from like Xander, you could see what was happening. Like looking inside while being locked out.

Willow was losing her grip. Things had been strained before the song and dance of truth and death. Then they reached a peak.

But eventually Tara would forgive her. You just knew that look of love, despite everything they do to hurt you; intentionally or not. Like when they sleep with someone to get over someone else, and then everyone is hurt.

Absolute shit hit the fan when Warren did the unthinkable. Attempted, and almost succeeded in killing Buffy. Murdering Tara.

The Willow you know is gone. Spike was gone. Something had happened, but no one was talking.

Then, in what felt like a snap, everyone was back. But different. And the apocalypse was nigh again. Yay.

-------------------------------------------------------

Now, with his soul back, Spike was picking up your dance like nothing had happened over the years. Like your heart was bright, and shiny and new. No one had bothered to look outside the house at you. You who had also changed and grown in ways similar and so very different from them. Always there. Dependable.

Enough.

“Spike, what are you doing?” you mumbled in an exasperated tone. “We have stuff to do. All those teeny-boppers in there need places to sleep with pillows and blankets. We aren’t in this store to fuck around.”

While you pushed a cart through the looted store to get things to return to the Summers’ house, he was messing with a small radio in the corner. Fiddling with the knobs even though you both knew there was no station anymore.

“Trying to find some bloody music, love.” Then he seemingly gave up and let his eyes rove around. “Aha!”

His small smile was disarming as he took quick strides in your direction to reach past your face to grab a small package off a shelf. He brought it up to face you while he scanned the back. A CD.

You were going to fucking stake him. Here and now.

Quickly, he was back at the radio and starting the CD with a light hum. Rolling your eyes you turned on your heel to continue searching the store for anything everyone would need. Your mission was aborted as a larger hand grabbed your wrist firmly and tugged you back to Spike as the first bars of Bon Jovi’s ‘You Give Love a Bad Name’ started filtering through the speakers.

“Seriously William,” you intoned incredulously.

“What?” he asked with both dark eyebrows raised up to his hairline.

“That’s really enough.” You were now more upset over your aching heart than his refusal to help you search the store, as you had been a few minutes ago. And, unfortunately, you were an angry crier so you were trying to move away so as not to be caught.

But nothing really goes your way in these situations does it?

Spike had gripped both of your shoulders as you were turned back to face him, but that didn’t mean you had to look at him. You tensed up to seem more angrily-distant than you were, and prayed to whatever deity that this would be over soon.

“Okay Poppet, that’s it,” he began. “What is going on? We always find a way to have a bit of fun in the bleak. Remember? ‘Us outsiders have to stick together.’? But you’ve been avoiding me for a bit now, and just now you were angry. Bitterly angry.”

Silence.

Another sigh from him, “It’s been like this since I came back. I know I did some things, and I have to earn forgiveness. But that’s why I got my soul? I thought you- I thought having a soul would-”

“Would what? Impress Buffy? Yeah, we all know that.” you cried out as the dam you had built completely shattered. Tear-filled eyes locked onto his, “‘Outsiders stick together’?? You left me. I was fine how things were. You loved her. You PICKED her. But at least I had you on the outside with me. Then you just left us. Me. And now you want to do this thing? Playing around on an important mission? Grabbing at me? Trying to dance to cliche rock songs? Making me- Feel. So. Much. Like it’s a game. . .”

Sobs were wracking you, and despite all you had said your body craved his for comfort. And he didn’t fail to tug you into his arms; clinging to you like you had said you were the one leaving.

“You’re right,” he muttered and you could feel the vibrations in his chest, the breath on your hair and his slight shaking as he teetered between gripping too tight and knowing his strength. “I did pick her.”

You went to break free, but he just twined his arms a little tighter while one hand came up to cup the back of your head. “I picked her because she was unattainable, at first. The one I wanted, they were too good for me. They could escape this all if they just decided to walk away. I wasn’t going to be their chain to the horrors of the night. Then. . . Then Buffy was broken. Not quite human or whole. Like me, and I dove into it because the one I loved was tempting and pulling. But love isn’t about what’s best for you. It’s about them.”

Your sobs had died down to shaking breaths as you let yourself relax a bit. But not daring to hope.

“I’ve done terrible things. I didn’t want to be the terrible thing that happened to them. Then I made mistake after mistake to claw my way out of my infatuation. Something she, Buffy, said made me think. I could be a better man. And if I was, then- Then I may be a step closer to deserving the one I love. Getting this soul broke my mind a bit, but I found my way back. I thought I could do this right. Right by them. Start with the friendship we always had.”

“Them. . .”

“You. Always you. Even when loving you broke my heart.”

Now you shoved off his chest a bit and he let you. Hoping this was the thing that would mark your turning point. Knowing, one way or another, things would never be the same.

“I don’t think hearts break Spike,” The breathy words left you of their own volition. All your love, heartache and pain over the years coming to the surface. “Shattered things can only be broken once. But torn things can be mended again and again until it’s all scars and stitching.” A pause to catch your breath. “How can I know? I’m not like them. Any of them, let alone a remarkable, strong, beautiful slayer like Buffy. And now? Of all times, this is when this happens. Of course. The fucking apocalypse is practically here and-”

Truth be told, he had barely heard anything after you spoke of your torn heart. The love, and pain from that love, bleeding through to his own heart and soul. And now you were rambling. His thoughts were simultaneously racing and non-existent as he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours.

Your words and breath were caught in your throat, eyes wide. But as his mouth pressed more insistently against your own all thoughts fled your brain. Your hands lifted to feather through the hair at the nape of his neck, and he groaned as his hand cupped your head again to pull you closer.

Your lungs cried for relief and you slowly pulled away as he rested his forehead against yours.

Both of your eyes were closed as he spoke up, “I promise- No. I vow to never let your heart be torn again. To never leave you outside looking in alone. To always be there, in arms reach when you need me, love.” He took a deep breath as both of your eyes opened and locked onto one another’s again. Faintly thinking back to your rambles he went on, “You will always know. Know I love you. Cherish you. See only you. Choose you. And if this is the end. Of the world or just of our lives; I will find you. Time and time again. I vow to love you in this life and all the others we may have. I vow that I am yours. If you will be mine?”

A tear slid down his face, but his eyes only held truth.

“I always have been,” you said as you looked into your future. Your forever and always.

#Buffy The Vampire Slayer #spike #spike buffy the vampire slayer #spike x reader #a-z affection prompt oneshot #vows #angst

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leomitchellart · 4 years

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So… about this latest Inktober controversy….

Time to begrudgingly chuck in my two penneth… (Remeber you can always press “J” to skip this post altogether)

As most of you may or may not know, Alphonso Dunn released a Youtube video wherein he publicly accused Jake Parker, and creator of the Inktober challenge, of plagiarising his book. Both of these men are public figures, artists specialising in pen & ink. In the video Dunn looks at the preview pages and flip through footage of Parker’s “Inktober All Year Round” and says they draw many similarities in the illustrations, language and layout that he used in his own book, “Pen & Ink Drawing”. Parker’s book was set to this month. Hense why Dunn only used footage and not a physical copy.

Since the video’s release, the art community has been very spilt down the middle. The book’s publisher has halted the launch of Parker’s book until the matter can be investigated. Even DeviantArt cancelled their own Inktober event thing (I’ll admit I don’t keep up with these things DA keeps doing). Parker has since released a statement in the matter. Now it’s up to the courts to decide what’s happening next. The video itself is an hour long, but it’s crucial to see it yourself.

People are, understandably, outraged after seeing it. This seems like a shitty thing to rip-off Dunn - not to mention stupid. Since Dunn is the more popular pen & ink artist with more social media followers and name recognition. Many have called to boycott inktober and condemn Parker. I’ll admit, I was right alongside them at first, at least for feeling outraged. The similarities are there. But if YMS’s Kimba video has taught me anything, it’s that, even if an accusation of plagiarism may be obvious at a cursory glance, sometimes it’s important to take a more critical eye and do more research to learn that things aren’t as cut and dry as they first seem. If there’s a lesson I can take away from the internet as a whole, it’s that no one thinks about the consequences of mob mentality.

The most common defence of Parker is that because they’re both books about pen and ink drawing, then they’re inevitably going to be similar. I’ll admit that, when you pick-up so many art books, a lot of them will cover the same basic grounds of materials, tutorials, strokes, techniques etc. The parts about rendering textures on spheres and cubes isnt new. Look up “texture study” and you’ll see so many examples of artists rendering these kinds of things digitally. I’ve also noticed a common theme of people more formally educated in art pointing out how none of these are original. Everything down to the steps and illustrations are things they’ve learned from years ago. Since I'm a pen & ink artist, inspired by my love of comics, I have quite a few books about inking: Dunn’s included. I own both his books and still highly recommend them. I didn't even preorder Parker’s book. Ironically because I didn't think it could offer anything new that my other books hadn’t already.

While Ethan Becker took the time to cross-examine Dunn and Parker’s books with several others, there weren’t many of the ones I actually owned. So I looked to my shelves to see what I could find. Books like:

“The Art of Comic Book Inking” by Gary Martin & Steve Rude

“How Comics Work” by Dave Gibbons & Tim Pilcher

“The DC Comics guide to Inking Comics” by Klaus Janson

“Making Comics” by Scott McCloud

“Stan Lee’s How to Draw Comics”

I’m sure there’s plenty more examples out there. I was planning to go through all of these and take pictures. But ultimately that’s not the core point of these post. Plus it would’ve taken WAY too long and this post itself, is long enough.

Of course, none of the them are 100% close to Dunn’s in the way they’re displayed. Not as close as Parker’s could be considered. That being said, I know Dunn is trying to claim that he invented these techniques. The nucleus of the issue is how similar they are in terms of order and how these pages are displayed. Some I can chock-up to standard practice, while others seem more coincidental.

If there’s one thing I’m adamant about, it’s that I think that Dunn should’ve messaged Parker first before making the accusation public. Some try to dispute that this would've made it easier for Dunn to be “silenced”, whatever that means; but that sounds a bit conspiratorial to me. Ideally, you confront him about it in private, if he makes any threats or blows you off, get your lawyer on the phone and then make the video. Not only is it the more civil thing to do - but it’s the smarter thing to do. This is a serious legal matter, not just internet drama. While I’m sure Dunn had no intention of tearing Parker down or getting a mob onto him, that’s unfortunately what’s happened. A backlash both from the general artisan community and several companies. Wherein it was left to Parker himself to make this an official legal matter. If Parker’s found not guilty, then this could easily leave the gate open for him to sue Dunn for damages, loss of revenue, defamation of character or whatever else, should he see fit. As could the publishers, given how this affected their sales. Companies responded to the accusation of the video alone, before an investigation could be launched. Sure, it wouldn't be “acting the bigger man” but he’d be well within his right to do it. Dunn showed that Jake has mentioned him before, shown admiration for his career and referenced him in other posts. If it comes to light in court, that Dunn is even cited as an inspiration or source in the book itself, then it’s case closed.

Then there’s the other possibility that Parker might not have done this on his own, but that he has a team behind the book. If that’s the case, the most I can accuse Parker of is being a hack. I worry Dunn has kneecapped himself for just how badly he’s handled this situation. Made worse by him not having an actual physical copy to assess and just had footage of preview pages to go on. So far, the circumstances don’t seem on his favour.

I don’t think ill of Dunn. I do think he believes he’s been wronged and no malice in his intentions. I just think he’s made some critical errors on how to handled this. As for Parker himself, I couldn't give a donkey’s doo-dah about him. I’m sure you could accuse me of playing devil’s advocate earlier, but to me, he was the guy who released the annual prompt list. If it really does turn out that he’s a plagiarist and had malicious intent, then fuck ‘im. I never regarded him as an inspiration of mine or paid much attention to him outside of that. It was the community that made Inktober what it is. I’ve never met Parker. Maybe he’s a cool guy? Maybe he’s a bellend? I don’t know.

Granted this isn't the first time Parker has proved himself to be a controversial figure: - Last year people were upset about him trademarking (not copywriting, as many have erroneously claimed) the word “Inktober” and some artists were stopped from selling their related work or zines. Parker would issue a statement: claiming the takedowns were a mistake of “overzealous lawyers” and it’s just a matter of the logo being trademarked. People can sell their Inktober works and even mention they are Inktober-related. Just not use the official logo. On the one hand, from a business standpoint, I get it. It’s the bare minimum you need to do to protect your IP, especially when you have a store. BUT, like most people, I don’t like how, what’s intended as a community challenge, has slowly become more of a brand associated with one man. Hardly a surprise it left a bad taste in so many people’s mouths. But, since it doesn't actually effect anyone’s ability to take part in the challenge, outside of personal principle, I went ahead with it the previous year.

- The year before, when asked if one can do Inktober digitally, Parker said the following:

I know some are still bitter about that, but speaking as someone who inks traditionally and digitally, this came across as needless whinging and blowing things out of proportion. Claiming that Jake had derided digital artists and said they were invalid etc etc. Take it from me, challenging yourself to try out different methods to ink traditionally can greatly improve the work you do digitally. It’s like how learning traditional fundamentals of art can still be applied to digital. Plus he never said “No.” he just gave valid reasons about how it makes it a different experience. That said, if you’re someone who can’t afford any kind of inking equipment or pens and only have a selected application to draw on - then none of this applies to you. Just the aforementioned few who took it upon themselves to get angry over nothing. Recently I’ve heard from subscribers of his newsletter that he’s now embraced the idea of people doing inktober digitally, to the point of selling digital brushes for inktober. I’m sure some will call this “backsliding” or “money grubbing” because people aren’t allowed to change their minds or update their statements.

For weeks I’ve been torn on what to do, not being able to solidify one stance over another. One minute I thought #JusticeForAlphonsoDunn then I wonder “Wait maybe I should look again?” to “But wait, those are way too similar!” Having splinters in my arse from sitting on the fence for so long. The longer this went on, however, I began to realise that I can’t take one stance over another. This case is far too muddy and complicated. I don’t have enough sufficient knowledge or evidence. Nor do any of you. We literally only have Dunn’s video to go on. While it’s a good start, it’s not enough to be taken 100% as gospel when it’s the only thing to hand.

As previously mentioned, a lot of artists have decided to not take part in Inktober at all, or follow different prompt lists. That’s completely fine. A lot of them are based around a specific theme: halloween, kinky stuff, bears, transformers, OCs, Disney or whatever. That has massive appeal. I just can’d do it myself. I prefer the focus on random words, rather than all centred on a single subject; allowing me to be creative with my ideas and execution. I actually did try to make a list of my own random words. Problem is, I worried that because I was choosing my own, I might be subconsciously bias towards certain prompts and not truly challenging myself. Even narrowing down my options was taking too long. In the end…. I’ve decided to just do the official prompts again this year.

For me, that’s what it ultimately came down to. TIME. It’s the middle of September. I can’t afford to wait for the court case to be settled. No other prominent artists I respect have released their own prompt lists. I know there’s been some shitty people who are condemning this choice. Attacking others, accusing them of supporting plagiarism, looking to block anyone who does the official prompts. Even trying to make this a racial issue. Just…. no.

If someone doesn’t want to take part in Inktober, that’s fine. If someone wants to do the official prompts, that’s fine. If someone wants to do their own prompts, that’s fine.

Don’t go around aggressively making snap judgements or accusing people of taking a side. Do whatever makes you feel comfortable. This has been a shit year, let people enjoy something.

If you look at this situation and it makes you feel angry, and you don’t feel comfortable in taking part in a challenge because of it’s creator. I get that, I literally get that. It’s why I haven't done Mermay. And please don’t mention Pinktober, I’m aware of it, but given his insta video on the subject and the things he said, I quickly came to the conclusion that I can’t take this person seriously. I’m sure this might make me seem hypocritical, but how this differs, if only for me, is the sheer amount Inktober means to me. It’s more than a simple challenge. Inktober's the one thing I’ve been most excited about all year. As it was ruined for me in 2019, when I lost my home and I didn't get to complete every prompt. (Long story, I’m okay now). As we all know, 2020, has been an AWFUL year. We’ve got to take whatever joy we can. As I’ve looked longer at the official prompts, I found ideas I’m really excited for.

Once I started to really dedicate myself to it, it became a massive event. I hype myself up as I prepare for the busy month. Buy in supplies, clean the house and workspace, cook and freeze meals in bulk to save time, printing off a sheet that allows me to jot down ideas as I plan ahead. Then once it’s done, after so much work, it makes the reward all the sweeter: Ordering a takeaway, celebrating a great halloween night and still rocking those vibes throughout November. Feeling proud of myself for doing it and seeing myself improve my technique, discipline and earning a few lie-ins to make up for the sleep I lost working. I’m like a kid waiting for Christmas. That said, don’t think that there’s something wrong with you when you understandably can’t dedicate that amount time for a simple art challenge. If anything that’s plenty of reason to why you’re smarter than me. You have a life and don’t push yourself too much.

Now, I need to crack on with the preparations. If you want to boycott Jake Parker, just not buying any of his products should be enough. Doing the inktober challenge doesn't bring attention to him, as I doubt most people even know him as the creator, nor does it even line his pockets. I just hate how cancel culture can do such serious damage like this and then try and put pressure on others to act accordingly without even doing any research themselves.

As long as you’re not harassing anybody. Just do what YOU want to do. That’s fine.

#Inktober #Inktober 2020 #My two penneth #Jake Parker #alphonso dunn

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