#You requested this on your desk by Monday morning and yet here I am in all of my ferality presenting it to you as your Friday morning paper | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

barnesbabee · 3 years

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collab || J.Y

ᴋɪɴᴋᴛᴏʙᴇʀ ᴅᴀʏ 2 - ᴋɪɴᴋᴛᴏʙᴇʀ ᴍ.ʟɪꜱᴛ

Summary: Two famous porn stars have a fun collab together.

Pairing: Jeong Yunho x gn!reader

Words: Just enough

⚠ although there is no mention of gender, the reader wears makeup and lingerie, so if you are uncomfortable with that, don't read ⚠

As Yunho dried his hair with a small towel, he heard the familiar ding sound from his social media. He had just finished uploading the edited version of his live stream, so it wasn't unusual for him to be contacted by a bunch of people right after, however, he didn't expect to see you.

You weren't well known in the porn scenario, as you were fairly new and the competition was vast, but your 'Around The World' series had become a huge success and a major hit for its originality.

Yunho was quite a fan of the series, so when he saw your message, his fingers were crossed.

Y/N: Hello! My name is Y/N, I'm not sure if you know my work, but I am a porn star that is currently doing a series called 'Around The World' where I... well, fuck people all around the world. My next stop is South Korea and I have seen your work before and I think our style is very similar and I would love to do a collab with you! Feel free to check out my work on my page, I hope to hear from you soon! xoxo

The tall man squealed like a high schooler getting a text from his crush, he's always wanted a collab and now he was about to get one in one of the biggest series of the moment!

Yunhxxx: Hello Y/N! I am aware of your series and I am a fan! I would love to do the collab with you! I'll send you my number so we can talk about the details more comfortably :)

Part of your anxiousness died down at his response. Most porn stars were very polite and kind in front of the camera, and in business discussion, all for that quick buck, but you'd find, with your series, that a lot of them were just assholes with a huge ego. You had a good feeling about Yunho, but you didn't want to get your hopes up and then be disappointed.

The arrangements didn't take long, as you were both excited for the collab to happen, making it very easy to communicate. Yunho was kind enough to offer his own home for you to sleep in, arguing that 'whoever fucks me gets to sleep in my house for free'.

Yunho spent the weekend preparing everything for your arrival on Monday morning: he cleaned his whole house, stocked his fridge and cabinets with all sorts of food, and sanitized every toy of his. By the time he received your 'I'm on my way!' text, his house was the cleanest it had ever been.

The man showered, put on his best cologne, and applied some dark eyeshadow under his eyes. As he stood in front of the closet in his briefs only, he wondered what he should go for. A sophisticated look? A sexy look? An outlaw-looking look? He wanted something to get you immediately attracted to him. Yunho wanted to make you feel good, not to make you act as if you felt good.

Ultimately he chose a black button-up and black suit pants. He decorated his long fingers (that he had come to learn was something many people liked about him) and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt.

Yunho was aware of his innocent appearance. He had had his cheeks squeezed one too many times, so he caught on quickly. However, the man loved to play with his looks. He loved to make people wonder what kind of person he was, with a cute face, yet an intimidating look.

Before he knew it, his doorbell rang. Yunho took one last look in the mirror, just to make sure everything was in its place and walked towards the door. The first hello wasn't awkward at all, as you'd already had a few zoom calls to discuss what would happen in your collab, just to make sure there were no misunderstandings.

Once you stepped in with your suitcase, you couldn't help but notice how neat, modern, and well decorated his house was. The walls were white with big windows, and the furniture was a mix of grey, light blue, and white. Yunho lead you to the guest room where you'd be staying, and it was a lot nicer than you expected. The bed was high and large, the duvet was grey with a bunch of fluffy white and red pillows decorating it. In front of the bed was a modern black vanity with lightbulbs around the squared mirror, and against the wall in front of the door was a black, sliding door wardrobe, with a large, orange, and red abstract painting of a couple. His house looked simple yet classy, with just the right amount of colour and decoration. You took a look at him, his dark look contrasting the house.

"You already got prepared?"

Yunho looked a little puzzled for a second, but then understood. "Oh! Oh no, you've just arrived, you must be tired! This is just... how I dress?" He said, feeling a little embarrassed.

You took a good look at his outfit.

"You always dress like that? Wow..."

Yunho's cheeks became a little red at the comment, and he stumbled over his words as he thanked you. He was used to receiving compliments when he had his clothes off, but with clothes on? Not so much... Before closing the door, Yunho told you to feel at home, and that when you were ready you could start setting everything up in the room he used to shoot.

The man had never felt that nervous, so when he finally closed the door, he immediately headed to his living room, and found the whiskey bottle he kept for emergencies. He poured a generous glass and sat on the couch, scrolling through his phone as he waited for you.

You were pretty much used to the routine, and since you had a stopover in a neighboring country and spent the night there, the trip hadn't been too tiring. You sat on the very convenient vanity and re-did your makeup. You liked to match your look to your type of content, so you went for a dark look: dark purple lipstick, a heavy, black smokey eye, and loads of mascara. You made sure to apply a lot, so it would run down your face and give the viewers the fucked out look they loved to see.

The lingerie matched your makeup: black lace lingerie with some bling here and there, and a garter belt to accessorize. You grabbed your robe from your suitcase and exited the room.

"Yunho?" You called, peeking your head from behind the wall.

"Hm?"

His eyes widened when he looked up. You were completely different from the person he had met.

"I am ready if you are!"

He nodded and stood up, downing the rest of his 2nd whiskey cup in one go. Yunho took you upstairs and opened the door to his 'studio'.

In the center of the room was a carpet, and a big, empty space behind it.

"I usually move the bed or the couch over there, depending on what I want to do that day. I found that it was easier to move the furniture than the whole set up." He explained, pointing at the empty space.

Against the wall, opposite of you, there was a bed, much like the one on your bedroom, and a nice, black leather couch. Beside you there was a closet, where Yunho kept all his toys, accessories, and streaming outfits. Other than that it was just the usual setup: a desk with a computer, professional lights, and a camera.

Yunho walked over to the couch and moved it with ease to the empty space.

"So we've already decided?" You asked.

The man smirked as if simply entering the room turned him into a completely different person.

"I already have everything planned out for you dear, it would be rude to have my guests work."

You blushed slightly, and sat on the couch, waiting for the green light.

You watched as he opened the closet, displaying his wide collection. He picked a bunch of stuff that he set on top of a towel on the floor.

"Alright, that's about it."

You cocked your head to the side, in confusion.

"You're not getting dressed?"

Yunho reached for the choker he had brought and softly placed it around your neck, tying it just tight enough. He hooked his finger on the big metal ring on the front and tugged on it. You followed his silent command and knelt on the ground, in front of the couch.

"I'm already dressed, for the concept we're gonna try."

You were getting curious and excited. You stayed still as he started up the live stream. Yunho turned on the lights, set up the camera, and pressed 'Start Live Video'. The screen counted down from five, until the live started.

Yunho sat on the couch behind you, and placed his large hand on your head.

The man smirked as soon as the comments started raining.

There was a mixture of fuck yeah's and happy cheers as they recognized Yunho, and became excited for what was to come. The live was obviously happening on your account, although you would always split the tips with the person you worked with.

"Hello," Yunho started, and you let him take the lead "welcome to the 24th edition of Around The World, I am today's guest, and we have such a great show for you today, don't we?"

Yunho tugged on your hair, making you wince. You looked at the camera and nodded.

The 30 dollar donation ding sounded, announcing that someone had made a request.

'Make her sit on your thigh'

You let Yunho take the lead once more, hooking his finger on your choker's hoop and pulling you up, to sit on his thigh. You hummed as you rolled your hips, causing friction between your core and his thigh. Your hand ran along his torso, feeling the fabric of his shirt.

"He has too many clothes, don't you think?" You asked the camera, in a flirty tone.

There was a rain of comments agreeing with you, and you immediately got to work, unbuttoning his shirt slowly. His dick print was already very visible in his pants, and you could now understand why he wanted to wear that look.

You removed his shirt, slowly and teasingly, as the viewers praised Yunho's toned body.

The male hooked his finger on your underwear and snapped it against your skin. Your little whimper at the sudden pain made him smirk.

Yunho ran his hands along your body, making you shiver from the cold metal of his rings.

Tips and donations rained down with many requests, and so you went back on the floor and laid your head on Yunho's thigh, your face mere inches away from his hard-on. You perked your ass up and traced the shape of his cock with your finger.

"What do you think? Should we reward them?" Yunho asked, petting your head as he stared into the camera.

As expected, everyone gave you the green light to continue, so you slowly opened his fly, to find he had no underwear on. You freed him from his pants, gripping his length in your hand. You kept eye contact with the male, and although you were a professional, you were always nervous when you had to take dicks on the bigger side.

You spat on his tip, and played with his cock for a second, before slowly inserting it in your mouth. Yunho groaned and threw his head back, taking in the warmth of your mouth. His hand was tangled in your hear, gripping it and tugging on it from time to time.

"Shit, you're doing so good..."

Yunho was very vocal, to your (and the viewer's) pleasure.

The 50$ notification ding sounded, and a message played right after.

'bby I wanna see you jump on his cock'

Yunho smirked and gripped your hair, in a firm, yet not painful way. He swiped his thumb across your bottom lip, cleaning the remaining saliva.

"Hmm, you know what, so do I."

You stripped from your underwear, in a sensual way for the viewers (and Yunho) to enjoy.

Yunho slapped his thigh, and you climbed onto his lap, slowly but surely sinking down on his length. You gripped onto his shoulders for stability and groaned as every inch of his cock disappeared inside of you.

His hands gripped your ass, spreading your cheeks in a beautiful way for the camera to see. The male helped you, as you rode him, not only by holding your hips and guiding you, but also by snapping his hips up against yours. Filthy slapping sounds along with the mixture of your moans echoed in the room, and the donations were reaching their peak.

"F-fuck baby you're s-so good, you're doing so well."

You gripped his shoulders harder, as his praises drew you closer and closer to your edge.

"They're c-close! Should we l-let them cum?"

It was impressive how professional Yunho was. How he looked so immersed in you, so tired and fucked out, with his fringe sticking to his forehead and eyes burning into your soul, yet he didn't forget to interact with the viewers.

There were many people leaning towards yes, begging to hear the way you sounded as you came, and so he worked hard until you screamed his name and tightened around his cock. He let you rest and recompose for a second, but the way you clenched around him made it impossible for him to hold it in any longer.

"Shit, get on the ground."

You gladly complied, and got on your knees for him, immediately sticking out your tongue, as you could predict what would come after.

Yunho jerked himself off to your fucked out face, and soon a string of curses came out of his mouth, as he spilled all over your face. He smirked and wiped some of his cum off of your face with his thumb.

"Say ah, pretty baby."

You smiled and opened your mouth. He inserted his finger in your mouth and you happily licked it clean.

Yunho cupped your face with his hand, and smiled.

"You behaved so well, I might have to reward you again."

His head tilted to the side, pointing to the couch, and you followed. You sat down on the couch, and Yunho knelt in front of you. His arms wrapped around your thighs and pulled you forward, so your hole would be of easy access to him.

The man teased you, as his tongue danced around your hole, not quite getting where you wanted him. You rolled your hips up, earning a slap to your inner thigh.

He looked up at you, with a hint of darkness in his eyes.

"Behave."

It didn't take long for you to get what you wanted, as he started tongue fucking you, with the help of his fingers. You gripped his hair, and your back arched as your high approached once more.

You came quickly, with his tongue still inside you, and he held your trembling legs and body, to keep you stable.

He didn't move for a second, giving you time to breathe and rest. After you had recomposed yourself, he helped you up, and the two of you shared a heated kiss, Yunho's hands never leaving your ass, that he definitely had a fixation with.

You finished the stream by thanking the viewers and donors and shut everything off. Once everything was done, you sighed and plopped onto the couch.

"Do you not want to shower?" Yunho questioned, as he saw the mess in your face and body.

You chuckled.

"Yes I do, very much, but I'm so fucked out..."

Yunho very kindly scooped you up.

"Well, I wouldn't want my guest to work too hard, I'll help you out."

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scuttling · 3 years

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(Not So) Casual Friday

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 4,456 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Dad Bod Hotch (it's not a main component but he very much has the tummy here), Pining, Accidentally admitting attraction, Embarrassment, A little angst, Oral sex, Protected sex Summary: Your best friend Derek finds out about your feelings for Hotch and teases you mercilessly. You can manage it, though, until the first ever Casual Friday, when Hotch shows up to work in a black polo and jeans and you kind of ruin everything. Or maybe you don't? *Requested by anon Link to A03 or read below! “Okay, girlie, today’s the day,” Derek says when you set your bag and coffee cup on your desk on Monday morning. You shoot your best friend a tired smile and wonder for the—you’ve worked at the BAU for almost two years, so it’s probably the 500th time—for the 500th time why he has to be such a morning person when you would prefer not to have a conversation until at least 10 AM.

“Today’s the day for what?” you sigh, asking out of obligation, because it’s obvious that’s what he’s waiting for; he smiles, picks up your coffee and hands it to you, which must mean you sound bitchy. You take a grateful sip, close your eyes and exhale through your nose.

“For you to admit to me that you’re in love with Hotch.”

You spit out your coffee—only all over yourself, which is great, wouldn’t want to inconvenience Derek at all—and then cough so hard he has to thump on your back to help clear your airway.

It draws some attention; Hotch comes out of his office, takes a look at the two of you and probably regrets hiring the both of you, then walks down the stairs to make sure you’re okay.

“What happened? You’re wet,” he says a bit gruffly, looking at the coffee all over your chest and sleeves. You glare over at Derek, who’s clearly trying not to laugh.

“Derek made me spill my coffee.” You grab a handful of tissues off your desk and pat at the wet spot, trying to soak up the worst of it, but it’s not salvageable. You’ll have to change your shirt.

“And then you… choked on it?” Hotch asks, to clarify. Derek does laugh at that; the things Hotch is saying happen to have dual meanings, slightly sexual, and now that Derek knows—thinks he knows—about your thing for Hotch, it’s clear he finds it all so hilarious. He’s a twelve year old boy in a grown man’s body.

“Okay, I didn’t spill, I spit,” you correct, looking up at them, and Derek makes an exaggerated face of disapproval.

“Should have swallowed,” he says, trying to sound serious, and you shoot him an irritated look and reach out to slap him in the chest. Asshole.

“Do you need help getting cleaned up?” Hotch’s expression is kind, sweet, but you’d sooner die than have him blot coffee off of your boobs. It would be mortifying, especially in front of Derek.

“No, no, I think I’m okay. Thanks,” you add with a soft smile, and then you reach up and pull your sweater over your head, unzip your go bag, and search for another top.

For some reason, Hotch has a coughing fit scarily similar to the one you just had, and you turn to pat his back like Derek did for you.

“Are you alright?” you ask, looking up into his face, and he nods despite his watering eyes.

“Fine,” he croaks, and he leaves as quickly as he came. You sigh, because it’s not even nine and your day has already been so weird.

You’re wearing a tank top, and thankfully the coffee didn’t get through to that layer, so it’s quick and easy to throw another lightweight sweater over top of it; you ball up the wet one, shove it in the dirty clothes portion of your bag, zip it up and stash it under your desk. Derek looks like he’s having the best day of his life.

“You realize you just undressed in front of Hotch,” he says with a tone you don’t appreciate. You roll your eyes.

“I did not. I had a tank top on underneath.” You almost always wear an undershirt, because you’ve been a cop long enough to know that sometimes your clothes get torn or messed up in the line of duty, and you’re not trying to offer a free show while taking down an unsub. Derek wiggles his eyebrows, points at your chest.

“Yeah, one that put those little boobies on display. His eyes bulged out of his head like a cartoon character.” This time, you punch him in the arm, hard. It’s too goddamn early for this.

“Can you please shut up already? I don’t have a thing for Hotch.”

“Ah, I didn’t say you had a thing, I said you’re in love with him. And I have evidence; lots of it.” You tip your head back, groan, wondering what you did to deserve a best friend who is also such a pain in the ass, and it’s that moment that Hotch chooses to rejoin you; he looks a little flushed, probably from the coughing earlier.

“Uh. We have a case; I know not everyone is here yet, but you can head up to the briefing room, I’ll grab the others when they arrive.”

“Sure thing, sir,” you say easily, grabbing your tablet and what’s left of your coffee; you gesture for Derek and he follows, laughing and shaking his head. “Okay, what is it now? I’m so glad you find me entertaining today.”

“‘Sure thing, sir,’” he says with a high, breathy voice you assume is supposed to mimic yours. “You want his dick so bad.” You narrow your eyes at him as you head upstairs.

“Uh, because I was being respectful? I know that’s a foreign concept for you, the world’s biggest asshole, but you don’t have to read anything into it.” You take your usual seats at the table, pull up the note-taking app on your tablet, and Derek sits back, crosses his arms behind his head.

“Well you’re not calling me ‘sir’, and I’m the sexiest piece in the office, so it’s hard not to read into it.” You look over at him, elbow on the table, chin in the palm of your hand.

“Sexy is subjective, and you don’t do it for me, sorry to break it to you.” He scoffs, laughs, and you laugh too because you both know you see each other as brother and sister, buddies, and fellow former cops, and absolutely nothing else.

“Yeah, I get it, only Hotch does it for you; he’s not my type, but I can see how a young lady like yourself could be drawn to his brooding exterior.”

“I’m not drawn to his exterior!” you practically growl, and then you’re joined by Spencer and JJ.

“Good morning. What’s going on with you two?” JJ asks, loading up the monitors for the debriefing, her eyebrows raised.

“She’s in love with Hotch,” Derek says completely nonchalantly, and you rest your head on the table, on top of your forearms, and sigh.

“She’s what?” JJ’s whole face lights up, and you seriously regret everything.

“I’m not in love with anybody!” you mumble against your arms, and then you sit up, because you’re clearly going to have to defend yourself. “And I’d appreciate it if you quit saying that I am.”

“I told you I have evidence,” Derek reminds you, leaning back in his chair a little. One swift kick would have him toppling ass over tea kettle, but you’re too nice, even when he’s actively trying to ruin your life. “Shall I go over it while we wait?”

“I’ll be an objective third party,” Spencer says with a brief smile, and you sigh, wave your hand toward Derek.

“Alright, let’s hear it. I’m sure I have a perfectly reasonable explanation for whatever evidence you might think you have.” He grins like this is the moment he’s been waiting for, and you feel a little stupid for encouraging this.

“For one, you always look at him. When I’m delivering a profile, I notice you watching the locals, making sure they understand what we’re going over, since you're the queen of analyzing the micro expressions. But when Hotch is delivering a profile, your eyes are on him the whole time. Same goes for discussing theories on the jet; anyone else, and you’ve got your face in your tablet, scribbling notes, but you always look at him when he speaks.”

Your cheeks get hot. He’s a captivating speaker, is all, with that deep, velvety voice, and you can learn a lot from him, so you pay attention. That’s just being smart.

“Second, you tense when he gets close to you: not like you don’t want him to touch you, but like you’re halfway to jumping him already and trying to control it. I could probably put my hand in your pocket and you wouldn't even flinch, but if he leans over you to point at something you look like you’re about to cream your pants.”

“I have seen that, actually,” JJ offers, and you look over at her, betrayed. Sure, you get a whiff of his clean, crisp cologne, or feel the heat of him at your back, and your body reacts, reminds you that this is your boss and you’re at work and you can’t get turned on by the way he smells, but that’s actually a good thing, not an indicator of feelings or anything.

“Third, there’s something up with you and the gray suits. I can literally tell that he’s wearing one before I even see him, all because of the look on your face. It’s like you’re drunk on the gray suit.”

“Okay, that’s not true,” you say with a roll of your eyes—the gray suits are god tier, but there’s no way you’re that obvious—but it’s Spencer who speaks up, this time.

“You know, I have noticed that. Your pupils tend to be more dilated when his suit is gray or blue than when it’s black.” Fuck. You sigh.

“He barely ever wears the blue. It looks so good on him,” you murmur, and then you snap your eyes shut, cover your face with your hands. “Fuck. This is so embarrassing.”

“To be fair, we are profilers,” Derek says, leaning in to pat your back. “But also to be fair, he’s been a profiler longer than any of us, so if we know, he definitely knows.”

“Not helping, Derek,” you grind out, and then you’re joined by the rest of the team. Penelope takes the seat next to you, leans in with a worried tone of voice.

“Is everything okay?”

“She’s having a small crisis, but she’ll be fine,” JJ says with a smile, and you don’t miss the way Hotch looks you over when she says it, concern in his eyes. “Alright, so we’re headed to Arkansas…”

Later that morning, when you’ve been given your instructions—yours are heading to the crime scene with Emily and Derek—Hotch pulls you out into the hall, rests a gentle hand on your arm.

“Are you alright? JJ mentioned you were having a crisis earlier. This is the first time I’ve been able to get you alone, and I wanted to check on you.” You take a deep breath, look up at him, so handsome in a black suit, white shirt, green tie—he almost never wears a green tie, and you absently think it brings out the more golden tones of his eyes—and smile softly.

“Yeah, I’m fine. It’s really nothing. Personal stuff, and I’m dealing with it.” If by ‘dealing with it’ you mean you’ve been repressing it, shoving it down day in and day out until your feelings are choking you, then yeah, you’re dealing with it. “Thanks for checking, though, that’s kind of you.”

“Of course. I’m here to help in any way I can, if you need me.” Good god, do you need him, emotionally, physically, but that’s fantasy, and this, what he’s offering, is rooted in reality. Good things do happen, but not to you.

“Thanks.” Your voice is weak to your own ears, and he swallows, nods; you see Derek hovering by the door, waiting for you, and you pull away to join him, plastering a smile on your face. You don’t talk about it again until Friday, and at that point it’s extremely unavoidable.

It’s Casual Friday, newly implemented by the bureau as a way to boost morale, and while it doesn’t really excite you, because you’re fairly casual anyway, others take full advantage of it. Others, including Hotch.

He shows up to work wearing a black polo and dark jeans, his usual watch. It’s easily the most simplistic, basic outfit a man could decide to wear on Casual Friday, but this isn’t just a man, it’s Aaron fucking Hotchner, and so naturally, you lose your damn mind.

It wouldn’t be so bad if the damn polo didn’t fit him perfectly, tight across his shoulders and chest and the little tummy he has that makes you want to be under him so badly, your stomachs pressed together while he thrusts inside you, holding you tightly, his strong thighs working against yours…

“Hello, are you alive in there?” Emily asks, waving her hand in front of your face; the two of you, along with Derek, are in Penelope’s office for lunch while Rossi, Reid, and JJ are out of the office for a seminar. You blink, shake away your thoughts and hope and pray they don’t come back—but they’ll come back, they always do.

“She’s just short circuiting because of Hotch’s Casual Friday look,” Morgan says with a wink, sitting backward in his seat. “She’s been drooling so much I’ve had to follow her around with a mop to clean up after her.” You push your wheeled chair away from them with a groan, needing space and air and, potentially, a brain transplant. You’ve gotten nothing done all day long.

“Can you blame me? The man comes in here everyday, buttoned up tight, looking incredible in a suit and tie, and then he shows up in that black polo, all snug and hot and delicious, and you expect me not to freak out? You guys are lucky I didn’t pass out.” You’re met with silence, and you blink, confused, at your friends, but they’re all just kind of staring with looks of barely concealed humor. “What? It’s not like it’s a secret that I want to climb him like a tree.”

“Pretty sure it was a secret to him,” Penelope says, looking shocked, and you whip around in your chair to see Hotch standing in the doorway, wide-eyed and a little flushed.

“Oh my god. I’m so sorry. I, uh—” He raises a hand, waves you off.

“It’s okay. No harm done; thank you, for the, uh. Compliment.” He steps forward, hands a manila folder to Penelope. “Thanks for taking care of these,” he says softly, and then, unsurprisingly, he gets the hell out of there. You wish you could disappear off the face of the Earth.

“Fuck, holy fuck,” you mutter when he’s gone, leaning forward with your head in your hands. “That’s it, I’m quitting. It’s been nice knowing you guys.”

“Okay, don’t be dramatic,” Derek says, and you look up to glare at him; he’s the one that started all this in the first place. You were fine, feelings tamped down and suppressed, until he brought it up and then told everyone you know.

“Don’t tell me not to be dramatic, Derek! This is all your fault. You never respect my boundaries, you never know when to just let me be, you always have to pick and pick until you wear me down. Maybe I had a reason for wanting to keep my feelings private, did you ever think of that?”

“I know you're upset,” Emily begins softly, because there’s some pretty thick tension between you and Derek now, but you stand up, push your chair across the room, and shake your head.

“I’m not upset, I’m fucking humiliated. I’m going home; let him know I’m sick, will you?” You exhale deeply, storm upstairs and grab your stuff and drive home with tears in your eyes. You’ve never been so embarrassed in your life, and add that to the absolute heartbreak you’re feeling? You’re just happy you make it to your apartment, so you can break down with cheesecake and a sappy, romantic comedy with a happy ending: those perfect, fictional worlds are pretty much the only place one is guaranteed. You are, as planned, hunkered down on the sofa in your softest pajamas, watching You’ve Got Mail and eating the center out of an entire cheesecake with a spoon when there’s a knock at your door. You groan, pick up your cheesecake tin, and walk over to it, fully expecting it to be Derek come to beg for forgiveness for ruining your life, so it’s no surprise you drop your dessert on the floor when it’s actually Hotch on the other side.

He looks down at the tin, then up at your face, cracks the barest hint of a smile.

“I thought you were sick; I brought soup,” he says, holding up a paper bag, and your heart thumps in your chest. You wipe a hand over your face, because you haven’t been exactly neat in your heartache cheesecake consumption, and then you kick the tin across the floor and invite him in, closing the door behind him.

“I thought it was obvious that I wasn’t actually sick, just… really embarrassed,” you say when he turns back to look at you. “I can’t believe you heard all that stuff I said… I’m really sorry I made you uncomfortable.” You take the bag from his hand and invite him to follow you into the kitchen, where you set it on the counter, lean against it. He comes close, but not so close you can’t function, which is good; your comfy pajamas are shorts and a loose tank top, so you feel a little exposed already.

“You didn’t make me uncomfortable,” he says softly, and you frown, must have heard him wrong. He presses his fingertips against the counter, as if for support. “You didn’t make me uncomfortable. It was… unexpected,” he explains, “very unexpected, but I’m not uncomfortable.”

You flush hot, and you can feel the bad decision part of your brain switching on, warning bells ringing in your head.

Whatever you do next has the potential to be extremely stupid, and you would like to avoid that at all costs; you love your job, after all, despite how physically and emotionally exhausting it can be, and you love your team. Time to think with your upstairs brain only.

“That makes me feel a little better,” you say truthfully, and despite the pep talk you just gave yourself, you move closer to him like there’s an invisible magnetic force between you; you would imagine a guy like Hotch would step back, keep his distance, but he only cranes his neck a little so he can look down at you more easily.

God, he’s tall. And he smells good, and his face is perfect, and that goddamn polo...

“Good, I’m glad. I don’t want you to feel bad about this. I’m not uncomfortable, it’s not… it’s not unwanted.” You swallow audibly, looking up at him, wondering if he knows what he’s saying, what it sounds like.

“It’s not?” you ask, and it comes out breathy; he takes a small step closer to you, brushes his fingers over your arm, peers into your eyes.

“No, it’s not. I’ve been thinking of you, too; I know you know you’re beautiful, but you’re also so smart, and strong-willed, and a force to be reckoned with. I’m proud to have you on my team, and I’d be proud… to have you climb me like a tree.” He smiles again, just the barest hint of one, and you put your arms around him and pull him closer for a kiss.

One long, slow, perfect kiss turns into another, then another, and he presses your back against the counter, his hands on your face and your hands on his thick waist; you hum into the kiss, revel in the feel of his lips on yours, his tongue sweeping past them, and when you pull back for air it feels like there’s only one question that needs to be asked.

“Bedroom?” you breathe, and he nods, and you take his hand and pull him in that direction, pausing to kiss him several times before you get there. “You don’t happen to have a condom, do you?” you ask, breathless, guiding him to the bed, and he frowns, shakes his head.

“I didn’t want to seem presumptuous.” You grin at that, lean forward and kiss him, your fingers in his hair.

“I find it so hot that you even say presumptuous. I might have one here somewhere.” You open your nightstand, move around books and toys until you find a couple; you flip them over, checking to see if they’re expired, and offer him a couple options. “They’re still good, surprisingly. You can, uh. Choose the one that would work best.”

He looks them over, picks one and hands back the rest, and you throw them back in the drawer and slide into his lap, wrap your arms around his shoulders.

“I’ve wanted you for so long,” he says, holding your waist as you look down at him, completely in awe that this is happening. “But I want to clarify: if you’re looking for something casual, I don’t think we should go any further.” You inhale softly, surprised by his straightforwardness, and you lean in, kiss him slowly.

“I don’t want casual. I want to be with you.” His eyes are so brilliant, dark in the dim light of your bedroom, and he nods, presses his lips to yours and slides his hands beneath your top, guides it over your head. Then they move to your shorts, slipping them gently off your hips, and you stand so he can push them to the ground.

You’re both breathing heavily, a little rough, and you step between his legs, kiss him again, run your hands down his chest, closing your eyes with a sigh because you finally get to feel him after a year of just imagining what it would be like. After a beat, you open your eyes, look into his, smile.

“Really grateful for Casual Friday,” you whisper. “Otherwise you might never have found out I’m kind of in love with you.” You ease the polo over his head, drop it on the ground and encourage him to stand so you can take off his pants; he does, but before you can drop to your knees as planned, he takes your face in his hands, presses one soft kiss against your mouth.

“I’m more than kind of in love with you.” Oh, if that isn’t the greatest sentence your ears have ever heard… You wrap your arms around his neck, kiss a little more, forgetting that you planned to finish undressing him; when you remember, you make quick work of it, then have him lay back against the bed and settle between his legs.

You put your mouth on him because you want to, more than anything, and his hand drops to your hair, caressing you while you suck slowly, deeply, holding him with one hand and pressing against his stomach with the other. His moans are soft and gorgeous, his body tense beneath your hand, and you’d do this all night, but he murmurs your name, coaxes you up, puts his hands on your back as you settle against him.

“You’re so incredible. I never would have imagined I’d get this, get you,” he breathes, skimming his hands over your sides and hips, and you kiss softly, steamy and sweet.

“Me neither.” You lean up, make space for him to roll on the condom, and then press him inside; your breath hitches, and so does his, and you lay on top of him, chest to chest, stomach to stomach, arms around each other tightly while you move. “Hmm. Aaron,” you sigh, hair falling around him, and he groans, digs his fingertips into your hips.

“Sounds so perfect coming out of your mouth.” You smile, but it slips away when he surges up to kiss you, leans up so he’s sitting with you in his lap. He slides a broad hand up your back, wraps it around the nape of your neck, and pumps his hips up as you sink down, eliciting a series of soft, eager moans from the both of you.

“Feels like I’ve waited so long; I’ve never wanted someone as badly as I wanted you,” you tell him, chest heaving, and he brings you to him for a kiss, something a little rougher, less refined. He’s getting close.

“Never. You make me feel so much.” You reach back against his leg for support, work harder to bring him off, and when he comes he crushes his mouth against yours, delicious and more uncontrolled than you’ve ever seen him. He chants your name, so soft and sweet rolling off of his tongue, and then gets you on your back so he can press deeply inside.

You feel so incredibly full, panting beneath him, your hands on his waist and your feet on the backs of his thighs; his perfect face is inches from yours, all shallow breaths and decadent, passionate kisses, and when you climax you pull him closer, sigh, unravel completely in his embrace.

Maybe good things do happen after all. You hold each other and talk for a while, after a quick pitstop to the restroom, and then your stomach growls—understandably, since the only thing to fill it since lunch was that stupid cheesecake—and Hotch orders takeout on his phone from bed; god bless technology.

There’s a knock at the door twenty minutes later, and you know that’s quick for your favorite Thai place, but you’re not complaining because you’re officially starving. He offers to grab it, throws on his boxers and heads for the living room; after a few minutes, you wonder what’s taking so long, pull on your robe and go to check on him.

Hotch is talking to Derek, who is standing in your living room with a piece of cheesecake and a shit eating grin.

“I came with a peace offering, but now I think I’ll wait for a, ‘Thank you, Derek,’” he says, and you roll your eyes, stalk over and take the cheesecake out of his hands. You give it to Hotch, lean up to kiss Derek on the cheek, and push him toward the door.

“Thank you, Derek. Go away, Derek,” you say with a smile of your own, and he raises his palms and retreats down the hall, laughing as he goes.

This is just one more thing he’ll tease you mercilessly about, but this time the benefits outweigh the costs. Taglist ❤️: @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @my-rosegold-soul @ssamorganhotchner

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x female reader #hotch x female reader #hotch x reader #ask answered #anon #prompt #dad bod hotch

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drawlfoy · 3 years

Text

detention, retention, and draco malfoy being a little shit

masterlist request guidelines

pairing: draco x reader

request: no not really

summary: golden trio friend y/n y/l/n tries to extract information out of draco malfoy after being placed in detention together.

warnings: swearing, panic attack kinda stuff, just the dark war things that would come w having the task that draco does

a/n: ayo so i started this as a fic i was originally planning on writing in a week. i discontinued it bc i didn’t think anyone was that interested, but i’ve written for it on and off. it’s about 16k words right now standing, but i’m reposting this as a 2 part series. here are the first ~12k words....enjoy :) IMPORTANT: if you’re like “hey i started reading this in october why tf are you reposting the first two parts” just keep reading ok lmao i promise there’s more there’s about through part 6 in here hehe. i just wanted new readers to be able to pick up on it without being turned off by the fact that it was part 3. this will b e 2 parts and at least 20k words

word count: 11.6k

taglist: @gruffle1 @missmultifandommess @cleopatera @hahaboop @accio-rogers @geeksareunique @eltanin-malfoy @war-sword @cams-lynn @itsivyberry @ayo-cowbelly @nerd-domland @yesnerdsblog @shizarianathania @evanstanfanatic @strawberriesonsummer @hariosborn @night-ving @straightzoinked @imintoodeeptostop @naiomimoonshard @jejegu @ophelia-enthusiast @alwaysbeanunknownfan @nearly-memories @litty-dumb @callieclearwater @malfoy-wife15 @charlenasaxen @belladaises @fiantomartell

happy reading y’all

For legal purposes, the york pudding she lobbed at Pansy Parkinson’s head on Monday evening was simply meant to be a joke. She didn’t know that her aim was bad enough that it was going to get in Snape’s hair instead--honestly, it wasn’t even supposed to get past the Ravenclaw table, much less veer to the left to make a beeline for the professors--but no matter how much she tried to explain this to McGonagall, her sentence remained the same: detention every Friday. For two months.

Her life was ending for sure.

“I honestly don’t know what you were expecting,” Hermione told her as she gently wiped off the nib of her quill later that night in the common room. “Even if you had hit your mark, that’s still technically assault.”

“Did you even hear what she said to me? She told me that I looked like the type of kid that bit people in primary school,” complained Y/N. “I didn’t even think she knew what primary school was!”

Hermione snorted. “How long ago?”

“Two days. I’ve been waiting until there was something throwable on the dinner table.”

“How very analytic of you.”

“I’m going to hit you.”

“And you wonder why you’ve got detention.” Hermione tsk-ed at her, her face stone serious but her tone light hearted. “Maybe take this as an opportunity to, I don’t know, do your homework for once? So you won’t have to have a breakdown over the next Potion’s essay and beg me to write it for you?”

“I’m going to go to sleep and think terribly mean thoughts about you.”

“Have fun.”

Detention.

Something that Y/N wasn’t completely unfamiliar with--she’d done her time organizing Snape’s cabinets, just like every other Gryffindor--but it was different when it came to McGonagall. An impressive old lady, she thought that McGonagall saw something in her. She was always the first to chuckle at Y/N’s jokes and hesitated to reprimand her stupid behavior. And she never gave Y/N detention.

Until now, she supposed. 6th year was changing a lot of things--even their Potions professor--so McGonagall turning a new stone shouldn’t have been anything shocking.

At least, not as shocking as the first thing Y/N saw as she walked into her house head’s office.

“Malfoy?” she spat.

The platinum blonde didn’t even bother to look up from his desk.

“Miss Y/L/N,” Professor McGonagall chided. “I think we would all prefer if you restrained yourself from getting into any more physical altercations with Slytherins.”

She huffed, plopping down in the chair furthest away from that foul git and reaching for her satchel.

“I’ll be back in two hours,” said the elderly professor. “If I hear anything, and I mean anything, other than the sound of studying, consider your sentence doubled.”

With a swish of her robes, McGonagall was gone, leaving her with Malfoy.

“So what’d you do to get in here, huh? Did the administration finally get a hold of that video of you licking Voldemort’s toes?”

“What the fuck does that mean?!” he snapped, whipping around to glare at her.

“‘s just a joke,” said Y/N. “Like--how everyone says your family houses him and everything--but whatever. I can tell it’s a sore spot.”

His gaze, never withering in intensity, remained trained on her face. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Apparently so. What’re you here for?”

He exhaled sharply. “If I tell you, will you shut up and let me think?”

“No promises, but maybe.”

“Late work. I forgot to turn in the Transfiguration exam last week.”

She made a tutting sound as she lazily shuffled through the crumpled parchment in her satchel. “I expected more from you. Aren’t you gonna ask me how I wound up here?”

“No. I am going to ask you to stop talking now, though.”

“That’s terribly unfortunate,” Hermione said over breakfast the next morning. Ron and Harry were nervously chit chatting at the other side of the table over the Saturday Quidditch game against Hufflepuff--supposedly it was supposed to be quite a high stakes match. Not like Y/N cared much, though.

“Yeah! And the worst part was that he won’t even tease anymore. Like, he just sits there all broody and woe is me. We’re all witnessing our nation’s descent into war--he’s not special!”

“Who are you talking about?” asked Harry.

“Oh, just Malfoy,” said Y/N. “We have detention together with McGonagall. He’s such a nasty little greaseball, don’t you think? I mean, look at him right now, glowering over his cereal.”

“Wait! That’s it!”

“What’s it, Harry?” Hermione asked.

“It’s genius, really,” he said. “Y/N has to spend time with him alone every week, and we know that something is up with him. Malfoy is absolutely a Death Eater and has connections to You-Know-Who, but I just need to find a way to prove it.”

“I vaguely forecast where this is going, and I hate it already.”

“Listen, Y/N. It’s not for that long, and it’s for the health of the wizarding world. If you just get to know him--”

“Ick!”

“If you just get to know him, maybe get him to trust you and find out his secrets...we’d finally have enough to turn him in and throw him out of Hogwarts for good.”

“Is that really necessary, Harry?” Ginny butted in from her seat further down next to Dean. “Malfoy’s probably just exhausted like the rest of you. 6th year is difficult, and we have no solid evidence that he’s a Death Eater. I’m sure being stuck in a room with him for 2 hours is hard enough without pretending to be nice to him.”

“But what if Harry’s right?” said Y/N. “What if he is actually a Death Eater? What if he’s an active danger to the student body?”

“Exactly!” The joy written across Harry’s face at the prospect of someone else finally agreeing was infectious. “So will you?”

“Er…” She dragged her spoon across the top layer of her porridge. “In theory, sure. In actuality, I’m not sure how I could do it. Malfoy doesn’t want anything to do with me, either.”

“Love potion?” offered Ron.

“I don’t care how much of a prat he is, I’m not roofying him.”

“I rarely agree with you, Y/N, but I think you’re right. If you want to do this, you need to get him to trust you for real.”

“Your back-handed compliment skills never disappoint, Hermione. Do you think you could help me out with a plan?”

A slow smile spread across the girl’s face as she nodded. “That’s my strong suit.”

The plan they laid out over the remainder of the day was ambitious but at least do-able. Each week was split into different subtasks, the end goal being a somewhat tentative friendship between the two.

“If you can flirt with him and get him to have a crush on you without scaring him off, you’d be in the best possible position,” Hermione told her as they walked back from the Quidditch pitch among the screaming Gryffindor fans. They’d won--yet again. “Obviously I don’t foresee that being likely, but if you pull it off somehow he’d probably be willing to tell you anything. The fact that you’re a pureblood is going to carry you through this whole ordeal. He’ll at least be accepting of your existence in the wizarding community.”

The bitter edge in Hermione’s tone made Y/N’s blood boil. There was no reason for Malfoy to be as prejudiced as he was--he’d spent his adolescence in Hermione’s academic dust. She was obviously smarter than him.

“You got it, ‘Mione,” she said. Her voice barely carried over the cheers of her peers as they ascended the steps to the common room. “We’ll take this little ferret down. I can’t wait.”

“Don’t get too cocky, now.”

The Gryffindor after-party was crazy...per usual. The charmed self-filling goblets, the blasted playlist of Wizpop pumping through the air, and the buzzing energy of the room was giving Y/N a giant headache. She stood with Hermione and Harry by the edge of the crowd, watching Ron get hoisted up on the shoulders of the chasers.

“No wonder the Slytherins think we’re Neanderthals,” Y/N mused. For once, Hermione didn’t respond. “Hermione? Is everything okay?”

The second she turned away to look at her best friend, gasps and whistles filled the room. She whipped back just in time to see Lavender Brown, a sweet but slightly ditzy girl in their year, pull away from a kiss with Ron.

“Oh shi--Hermione!”

Harry and Y/N shared a glance before darting after the witch--who had impressively already made it to the door.

“Hermione, wait!” Y/N called as they jogged after her, throwing open the common room entrance and finding her sat by the tapestry on the other side of the hall, knees to her chest.

“‘Mione, what’s wrong?” asked Harry.

“Don’t be daft, Harry,” said Y/N. “You saw exactly what the rest of us did.”

“I don’t understa--”

“Harry.” Her voice was taut. “I know you’re just trying to help, but I think that it might be best if you let us be. Go back and enjoy the party.”

He gave her a tight, grateful smile before darting back through the door. Y/N wasted no more time in walking over to Hermione and throwing her arms around her shoulders.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, hugging her tight. Hermione made no move to detach them, so she continued. “Ron is an idiot. You deserve so much better--your first kiss was Viktor fucking Krum, after all. You’re hot stuff and this place is just unfortunately running dry of men who are impressive enough for you. Once you’re out of here and working in the Ministry, you’re gonna have the time of your life with men actually in your league.”

Hermione managed a sniffly laugh as she wiped her eyes with her sleeve. “It’s just so fucking embarrassing, you know. Like, I have a crush on him because I think he understands me and I smelled him in my Amortentia and I thought he’d like me back, but…” She hiccuped. “Then he goes off and kisses Lavender Brown, of all people. There’s nothing particularly wrong with her or anything, but she’s so different...I’m so bookish, and she’s so girly and everything I’m not…”

Y/N took the opportunity to tuck a lock of Hermione’s hair behind her ear as she listened.

“And it can’t help but make me think--was I ever anything to him but a friend? If the girl he ends up choosing is the opposite of me?”

“Girly, don’t think like that,” murmured Y/N. “He’s a teenage boy. They don’t think of love the way that we do--to them it’s a game of availability, not of choice. At least for Ronald. You intimidate him, and by extension, you’re not available.”

“That shouldn’t matter!”

“You’re right. It shouldn’t.” Y/N drew a long breath. “So you should find someone who always has you as their first choice--someone who isn’t intimidated by your intellect. They’re out there. I promise.”

Hermione managed a shaky smile. “Thanks, Y/N. I mean it. Do you mind if I have some alone time? I don’t think I’m ready to go back to the party but I just want some quiet.”

“Of course. Let me know if you need me,” she said, brushing herself off and making to walk down the hall.

“You’re not going back to the party?”

“Nah. It hurts my head and I want fresh air. If I’m not back here in a half hour, assume that I’ve been kidnapped.”

With that, she started her walk. She wasn’t planning on going on a long stroll--there was a small balcony that she often went to when she needed to clear her head. It was beautiful, especially on a snowy night like this.

But the walk was creepy.

There was only one way in and out--a narrow, damp hallway that had absolutely no light fixtures. If Y/N really wanted to, she could cast a quick lumos, but she wasn’t sure if she wanted to see what lived on the walls. The stairs were steep, too, but she managed to bound up all 40 of them in record time.

“Who’s there?”

The sudden voice ripped a scream out of Y/N’s throat as she reached the top, catching a glimpse of the shadowy figure at the edge of the balcony that spoke. She clasped her hand over her mouth and she crept forward to the opening, getting a better look at the person that was in her secret spot.

The clouds shifted in the sky to allow more moonlight to cast a soft glow on Malfoy’s face, hardened with irritation.

“Malfoy?” Y/N asked, rather dumbly.

“What stellar observational skills,” he drawled.

She felt her cheeks grow hot. “What are you doing here? This is part of the Gryffindor tower. Shouldn’t you be...I don’t know...playing hide and seek with the sewer rats in the dungeons?”

“Very funny.” His flat tone exposed the fact that he did not, in fact, find it very funny. “There’s no rule barring me from coming up here.”

“But why? This is my spot!”

“Because I wanted to get out. Now, I was here first, so unless you want your detention extended, I suggest you leave.”

Y/N bit the fiery comebacks on the tip of her tongue as the memories of her plan with Hermione began floating back to her.

Week 1 -- Hold one neutral, civil conversation with Malfoy.

“I’ll be quiet. You won’t even know I’m here,” Y/N decided upon. leaning up against the balcony. The rogue snowflakes that made it past the overhanging roof melted on her cheeks.

“That isn’t a suggestion,” said Malfoy. “I’m demanding you leave.”

“Beautiful night, isn’t it?” Y/N asked, pointedly ignoring his words. “I’ve always loved the snow. It’s so quiet.”

“And it would be even quieter if you left.”

“Aren’t you the conversationalist?” said Y/N.

“If you don’t leave, I will hex you,” Malfoy told her through gritted teeth.

“I just love how the moonlight reflects off of the snow,” continued Y/N. “It’s so...pure.”

“Please leave.”

On her walk back down the dank stairwell, she allowed herself a little smile.

Task 1? Technically done.

The first week went largely as planned. Malfoy was cold and certainly suspicious of her, but he wasn’t completely venomous when Y/N asked where he got his quill from in Potions. It was silver, charmed to shimmer with flecks of forest green. He told her Barnaby’s in France, and that was that. She walked away from his table with all of her limbs attached. Perhaps that was all the progress she was going to make in the next few weeks, but the task at hand certainly made the prospect of her lost Friday afternoons more bearable.

Harry was going completely batty, rambling on about how Malfoy was behind the mysterious cursed objects that had been floating about the castle without explanation.

“And why would Malfoy bring cursed objects to Hogwarts if he has aspirations other than being expelled?” Hermione would ask over their books.

“You don’t understand, Hermione! You girls need to be careful walking around at night--especially you, Y/N. I don’t want you going missing after detention because of that slimeball.”

Y/N always gave him a laugh, berating him for his slight misogynistic commentary and turning back to whatever her task was, but the truth was that she was worried for him. The mental weight of the impending war and the fact that he couldn’t do anything about it was certainly getting too difficult for him to bear. It was heartbreaking to see the vivacious boy she’d grown up with crumble under the responsibilities of something he should never have to worry about in the first place.

Friday came much sooner than expected, and Y/N reluctantly left her friends in the common room to trek to McGonagall’s office. The walk was frigid and the wind bit at her cheeks as she rounded the last outdoor hall.

Why was this castle so dark?

A thump behind her made her jump, and Harry’s words came floating back to her.

Remember all those cursed objects? What if there’s someone just...stalking the school grounds, waiting for someone like me to snatch?

She shivered, throwing herself at the office door and slamming it behind her.

“Miss Y/L/N,” Professor McGonagall greeted, her eyebrows raised in amusement. “Something giving you trouble?”

“No, Professor,” she answered, setting her bag down on the desk next to Malfoy. He sent her a curious look as well. “It’s just cold outside.”

She chuckled. “I need to go speak to Headmaster Dumbledore. I expect that, upon my return, you both are in one piece and alive.”

“I’m not sure if I’m the one who needs to be given that speech,” said Y/N, bored and testing the waters.

“She’s right, Professor,” added Malfoy. “There’s no projectiles here.”

McGonagall exhaled a long, shaky breath before brushing herself off. “Please. Behave yourselves.”

“You got it, boss,” she said as she watched her Professor walk out the door. “So, Malfoy. How was your week?”

“I don’t know what you’re up to, but I’d way prefer if you didn’t speak to me,” he said, refusing to make eye contact.

“I’m not up to anything! We’re in detention together and, I dunno, since I see you sometimes at balls, I thought it’d be nice to be on good terms.”

“Good terms?” He scoffed. “You’re a Gryffindor. I’d rather you be a bloody Hufflepuff.”

“How about neutral terms?”

Even though he wasn’t looking at her, she could catch a glimpse of him rolling his eyes. “If neutral terms mean you being quiet, then, yes. Please.”

“I’ll be plenty quiet. After I hear about your opinion on what happened in Potions today with Brown and Weasley. When Snape yelled at them for holding hands.”

He let out a sharp sigh. “Believe it or not, I actually have better things to do than keep up with whatever stuff your house does.”

“But…?” Y/N pressed. She may not’ve spent her time at Hogwarts as Malfoy’s best friend, but she had grown up with the boy, and she could tell when he was holding back.

He stared blankly at her.

“Come on. I’m literally the only person in my house who’ll openly admit that they’re disgusted by that dynamic. I’m begging you.”

She wasn’t sure if she was imagining it, but she thought she saw a flicker of amusement dance across his face for a moment. “Your house sounds more like a cult than a student group.”

“Oh, says the one from Slytherin,” said Y/N.

“We only act like that because our families are close. What’s your excuse? Hormones and Quidditch culture?”

“Touché.” As much as she wanted to fight back, she bit her tongue. Whatever she was doing was making progress, and quicker progress than she was expecting. Her next task was to make him laugh, and she was emboldened by the fact that she could potentially be able to kill two birds with one stone.

They sat in silence for a little bit, but this time, it was a comfortable silence. Malfoy wasn’t staring at the clock on the wall or rolling his eyes at her every move, so she had time to plot.

On one hand, she could make a fool of herself--drop her inkwell, say something stupid in class, fall down the stairs--but she had a sneaking suspicion that her sorry attempts at slapstick humor wouldn’t land well with Draco anymore. He’d become so serious lately, so solemn. This was the most light hearted she’d seen him, even compared with how he acted with the rest of his Slytherin lackeys.

On the other, she could try to sell out her friends. She could confide in him how “big” Hermione’s teeth were (they weren’t even big) or tell him that Ron smelled of eggs (true, but that was a low blow). Something told her that this would be much more successful, but she wasn’t willing to turn to that so quickly--she was already a week ahead as it was.

“What is it?”

Malfoy’s bored drawl cut through her flurried thoughts. Her cheeks turned pink as she blinked, noticing that she’d been staring at him for far too long. “Nothing. Sorry. I just spaced out.”

“Sure,” he mumbled, giving her another suspicious look before turning back to his work. “Can you maybe space out somewhere other than my face?”

“Where’s your vanity, Malfoy?” she pressed as she leaned back in her chair, hair swinging over the back.

“Shut up,” he snapped. She could tell that whatever connection they’d had in the fleeting moments beforehand was being burnt by the second, but her embarrassment and pride drove her forward.

“Merlin, what’s got you so wound up?” she prompted, noting how deliciously unraveled he looked at this. “Where’s my cool, collected Slytherin?”

He slammed hands on his desk at this, whipping around to glare at her. “What’s your angle, Y/L/N?”

“What?”

“Why are you bothering me?”

“Because I want to.” She beamed.

Malfoy ran his fingers through his hair, mussing up the usual neat manner in which it normally laid on his head. “Compelling. What do you want from me?”

“What do I want…?” She tilted her head at him, narrowing her eyes. “What?”

“You never talk to me,” he explained. “Obviously, I prefer it like that. I can’t help but wonder why suddenly you want to be making small talk. So, what is it you want from me?”

“Malfoy,” she said. “I think you’re a spoiled prick who thinks far too highly of himself and drives me insane. But I also think that you’re funnier than what my friends give you credit for. Granted, you’ve always been annoying, but I don’t want anything from you. I just want to, I dunno, make these next few months less insufferable.” Somehow the lie slipped through her teeth easier than any of her previous bluffs.

He frowned, his mouth opening once before firmly screwing shut into a scowl. “Oh.”

“No offense, Malfoy, but what else can you offer me other than your dazzling personality?” she teased. “You know my family. I don’t need to blackmail you to pay for jewelry I’ve had my eye on or anything.”

He scoffed. “As if I’d say yes.”

“Exactly my point. It’d be fucking weird. Merlin, I’m not trying to butter you up to buy out Borgin & Burkes for me. Do I give off gold-digger vibes? Is that what this is about?”

“Fucking hell.” Malfoy turned to her in disbelief. “Do you ever shut up?”

“Answer my question. Or better yet, pull out your wallet. Wait, did I say that out loud?” She mimed surprise and covered her mouth. “Oh no! What will my mother say now that I’ve squandered my last chance of hitching you? There’s no way I can go home for Christmas break now.”

He rolled his eyes so hard she found herself worried for a moment that they were going to just permanently get stuck in the back of his head. “Hate to break it to you, but you didn’t really have a shot to begin with.”

Ouch.

She huffed and dramatically flopped over the back of her chair, hoping he couldn’t see that she’d flinched. “So you don’t think I’m pretty??”

“Y/L/N,” he snapped, his voice a low warning. “Can I please just work? What is with you today?”

Y/N sent him a sour look before giving her Charms work another look. Malfoy was awfully quiet, and when she snuck any glances at him later on, he was angled to face away from her.

Why did she feel like such shit all of a sudden? She cataloged the past events, trying to pinpoint the exact moment that her stomach dropped. It all made sense when the words “You didn’t really have a shot to begin with” echoed around her head once again. She’d failed Harry. She’d failed Hermione. There was no way that she was going to be able to get him to reveal his secrets now--it’s not like he was confiding in even his closest friends as Harry made apparent when he explained how vague his statements were to his fellow Slytherins on the train. Her only chance would’ve been to somehow get him to fall for her, and that wasn’t going...great. And it had been a pipedream to begin with.

When McGonagall swished back into the classroom to dismiss them, Y/N shot out of there without even looking at Malfoy again. It felt like something was lodged in her throat and she was not going to cry in front of him. No, no. She had to make it to Hermione to tell her what was going on.

“Y/L/N?”

Malfoy’s voice made her pause in her flee as she nearly rounded the corner in front of her, but she refused to look back. It was far enough away that it was possible she didn’t hear him.

“Wait!”

She was up the stairs and speed walking as fast as her legs could carry her to the Gryffindor tower before he even saw which way she went.

“I don’t think you understand,” Y/N wailed by the fire as Hermione rubbed her shoulders and Harry sat awkwardly perched on the couch. “I can’t do this. The only way this was going to work was if he had a crush on me, and I don’t think he ever will. I fucked it up! The one time you guys need me, I fuck it up! I let you down!”

Hermione’s left hand stopped its rubbing to rest firmly on her shoulder. “Please don’t be upset. You didn’t let us down. Plus, you’re only, what...two weeks in? You don’t need him to like you to make it work. Just getting him to trust you will be enough, and you’re good at that.”

“I don’t think so,” continued Y/N. “Harry said that he wasn’t even that open on the train when he overheard him talking to all of his friends. And those are purebloods that he likes! That he’s trusted and known for years and years! I’m a friend of you guys, and he knows it. I think he’d figure it out quick.”

“We should take every chance we can get,” said Harry from his spot a few feet away, his eyes lazy and unfocused on the fire crackling in front of them. “You won’t let us down if you can’t get anything, Y/N, you know that! But if you got anything from him, it’d be incredible. It’s a win-win. I don’t understand why you’re so upset.”

“I’m not upset,” she said, her tone becoming defensive. “I just...don’t want to mess this up. I know how much it’d mean if I succeeded.”

“So just try!” Hermione said. “There’s nothing wrong with it. I’m sorry he was kind of mean to you today, but I don’t think that should bother you too much. He should be more afraid of what you’d say if you didn’t care about being a good person.”

“Fucking right on there,” she said, wiping away the frustrated tears. “If I was honest with him, he’d leave crying. He should be grateful that I’m taking this bet so I actually have to be nice to him.”

“That’s the spirit.” Harry leaned over to smack her back like he did his Quidditch teammates after a winning match.

After they’d parted their ways with Harry, Hermione and Y/N made their way slowly up the stairwell to the girls’ dorms.

“Y/N?” Hermione asked, breaking the silence.

“Yeah?”

“Do you think, er…” She paused. “Do you think you were really upset about failing us today? Or was it something else?”

“What do you mean?” Y/N furrowed her eyebrows. “I don’t see what else it would be.”

“I’m sorry,” responded the bright witch. “Forget I ever asked. It was a stupid thing to wonder about.”

“Weirdo,” she teased as she waved her a goodnight and made her way to her dorm.

The next morning, Y/N busied herself with revising her Charms essay over her breakfast--a cup of tea and a half-buttered piece of toast--while Hermione leaned over her shoulder, nodding or grimacing at the corrections she made.

“Did you work during detention? Like, at all?”

“‘Mione,” moaned Y/N. “It’s too early for this. I don’t want a lecture. I just couldn’t focus.”

Her warm brown eyes narrowed as they bore into Y/N’s face. “Why were you distracted?”

“Oh, I, uh…” She stumbled over her words as Hermione drew closer. “Merlin, Hermione. I told you last night. I just felt like I was letting you all down.”

“Mhm,” was all she got in response before her best friend tilted her head back down to the parchment in front of her.

Y/N sat, completely puzzled. What was Hermione on about? She’d been straightforward with what was hurting her--she didn’t want to mess up the only task the Golden Trio had ever given her--and, even if she hadn’t been, Hermione was smart enough to deduce things for herself. So what was she thinking about?

Her eyes drifted over to the Slytherin table where the usual 6th year pureblood gang loitered about, drinking black coffee and sulking--but Malfoy was not to be seen. She jumped when her eyes met Parkinson, her dark eyes burning into her soul as a deep scowl was written across her face.

“Malfoy, what the fuck do you want?” Ron’s voice pulled her back to reality to see him glaring somewhere behind her.

“I wasn’t here to talk to you,” a familiar voice drawled.

She turned to see Malfoy standing behind her, a sneer written all across his stupidly pretty face.

“Miss me already?” asked Y/N as she raised an eyebrow and cocked her head to the side.

“For fuck’s sake, stop doing that,” he mumbled, reaching into his pocket and throwing a box at her. “You forgot your quill. I took the liberty of properly storing it, because it seems like you lot like to just throw them in your bag. Makes me physically ill to watch.”

“Oh.” Y/N studied the intricate box in her hands before tucking it away in her knapsack. “Thanks? I guess?”

He nodded curtly, contorting his face into one last scowl to send to Ron before turning and leaving,

“So,” Hermione began, cutting her omelet at a much brisker pace, “I think we need to have a little chat. About...all of this.”

“Why?”

“Not right now,” she said, her voice low and her eyes flicking at Ron and Harry sitting across from them. “I don’t think it’d benefit us for them to hear.”

“Ok?” She cautiously took a bite out of her toast and continued staring Hermione down. “You’re scaring me.”

“It’s...I don’t know. I thought I was crazy for thinking this, but it seems like we need to talk about it anyways. For this little mission of yours to work, we need to be totally open and honest with each other.”

“Sure.” Y/N took another bite. “I honestly have no clue what’s got you so on edge, though.”

“Who’s on edge?” Harry asked, leaning over the table and stealing the croissant on Y/N’s plate.

“Hey!” she exclaimed. “Do you not see the entire plate of them over there?”

He laughed, sending her an easy grin and dunking a piece into the hot chocolate in his mug. “Finders keepers. Say, Y/N, are you busy next weekend? Ron and Lavender are going to Madame Puddingfoot’s together, and I know Hermione isn’t going to want to take a weekend off studying to go to Hogsmeade, so I thought that maybe we could go cause some trouble at the Cauldron.”

“If you stop stealing my food we can talk about it,” replied Y/N, the corners of her lips tugging up into a grin.

“Deal.”

Hermione tugged at her arm. “I just realized I need to get something out of my room before we watch the Quidditch game. Will you come with me, Y/N?”

“Sure!” said Y/N. “Gee, I’m rolling in invitations today.”

Once they exited the dining hall, though, it immediately became evident that they were not actually heading up to the dorms. Hermione dragged her into the nearest bathroom before casting a quick silencing charm.

“Myrtle! Are you in here?” Only when she was sure silence was the only response to her question, she seemed satisfied to turn to Y/N and begin talking. “When were you going to tell me that you have a thing for Malfoy?”

“I’m sorry, what?” Y/N felt the heat that had risen to her cheeks from the last quill-encounter re-emerge.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” said Hermione. “Are you seriously going to expect me to believe that you nearly sobbed over some random pureblood git telling you you never had a chance with him because it might slow down your progress with helping us? Actually? I’ve seen you look more ecstatic about hearing that your dear granny passed away.”

“To be fair, she had really good life insurance,” Y/N cut in. “And she was an old hag. Never had a nice thing to say to me.”

“Life insurance or no life insurance...you can’t seriously expect me to believe that you were just upset about not being able to help us as much. That was ridiculous. I don’t buy it. And the way you blushed like crazy when he came over to talk to you--the way you try and pretend like you can flirt...please. Y/N, it’s clear as day. I know you, and I know you have a crush on him.”

“Hermione!” hissed Y/N. “You have no clue what you’re talking about!”

“Yes, I think I do,” she pushed. “And you need to be honest with me if you want to be of any help right now.”

Her bossiness lit a fire of rage in Y/N’s chest, but she sucked in a deep breath, shutting her eyes before releasing it. “Believe me when I say I haven’t ever acknowledged any feelings I may or may not have towards him.”

“Ok.” Her face softened. “I know it might take time, but I honestly do think I’m right. Please just...be careful. This is a really odd situation to get caught up in if you actually have feelings for the other person. You’re trying to manipulate him, for Merlin’s sake.”

“And if I have these feelings for him, I’ve done a pretty damn good job of suppressing them for however long they’ve been here.”

Hermione sighed. “That’s true. I’m just saying that spending this much time with him is probably only going to make things worse. Will you please tell me if anything changes between the two of you?”

“Anything changes?” Y/N’s voice was dripping in disbelief. “You’re joking. Even if I was obsessed with him I don’t think there’s ever a chance of hell in anything ‘changing’ between us. He said it himself.”

“You know what I mean, Y/N,” responded Hermione. “Just promise me, ok?”

“Ok,” said Y/N. “I promise.”

That seemed to satiate Hermione as she nodded approvingly at her friend. “I think it goes without saying that Ron and Harry shouldn’t hear about this.”

“There’s nothing to hear about, but yes.” She shuffled her feet before meeting Hermione’s eyes again. “Er, I’m sorry for this being a weird question, but would you mind coming along with me and Harry to Hogsmeade? I don’t really see him like...that...and I don’t want to read into it too much and reject him if he is doing it just platonically, but just in case. Y’know.”

“Sure,” said Hermione, even though her face took on that curious expression yet again. “Anyways, you actually did forget something--you’re not wearing a single piece of Gryffindor colors for our game today. You should probably run back to your dorm before Harry and Ron notice.”

After they said their goodbyes, Y/N found herself turning over the things Hermione had said to her in her head. Did she like Malfoy? No, no fucking way. But a part of her really did think he was funny. And of course it was natural to feel rejected when anyone insinuates that they’d never consider you as a romantic interest without jest.

Once she’d made it up to her room and grabbed a few scarves, Y/N made to put her red cloak into her satchel. Her fingers ghosted over the box that Malfoy had given her and scoffed once she saw the Malfoy crest engraved into the rich wood.

Narcissistic snot.

Her curiosity got the better of her as she reached over to open up the elaborately decorated box. What met her was not just one quill but two--one of which was most certainly not her own.

She took them both out, tossing the old one in a pile with her other trusty familiar white feather quills and picked up the other one. It looked familiar--identical to the quill that she’d complimented Malfoy on in Potions about a week ago. Butterflies began to flutter like crazy in her stomach as she turned it over in her hand, watching the gray and green glitter together and the magic sparkles cast a gentle light over her bed. She generally avoided dipping into her family’s pockets to get school supplies any more than she had to--it’s not like it made her friends feel good about themselves when they were reminded how rich her family was--but this might be what she could consider to be an exception. She hadn’t even liked his quill all that much when she first saw it in Potions--but it was one of those things that was so noticeable that it made sense to compliment him.

She gave it one last look before tucking it back away into the elaborately decorated box. Perhaps she had spoken too soon when she’d told Hermione all hope was lost.

When Monday morning Potions class with the Slytherins rolled around, Y/N wasted no time. Malfoy was alone--even his Slytherin lackeys seemed to know not to bother him. Just what she needed.

“Malfoy,” she greeted, setting her bag down on his table and looking him dead on. He raised to meet her eyes, his eyebrow raised.

“Can I help you?”

“I just wanted you to know that I also really like your immense fortune,” she said. “And your manor.”

“Well, a lot of people do,” he mumbled as he looked away to dig through something in his bag. If she didn’t know any better, she would’ve thought he was blushing.

“I’m just letting you know,” she continued. “In case you were wanting to give them away. It worked for the quill, so I thought, well, why not?”

He exhaled, a deep and annoyed sound escaping his lips as he rolled his eyes up to the ceiling. “I knew I shouldn’t have done that.”

“You really didn’t have to.”

“I was getting sick of it,” he told her. “I never can stick with one quill for too long, and I thought it’d be a shame to toss it. I thought it’d be better to be charitable--it’s not like your family could get an appointment at Barnaby’s if they tried.”

“Hey!” Y/N said indignantly. “You don’t know that!”

“I’ve heard your parents try to speak French,” he said. “If you’re anything like them, you'll be barred from ever entering the country.”

“Malfoy!”

His lips turned up into a smile, a soft laugh escaping his lips. Y/N suppressed the urge to grin in return. Task 3? Done. “What?”

“I can’t even argue with you,” she said. “It’s tragic.”

She stared at the empty stool next to him, wondering if she should just take the leap and sit with him. Malfoy seemed unbothered by her presence as he opened up his Potions book and set it next to his cauldron. “Do you want a partner?” The words left her lips before she could stop them.

He cast her a curious look before glancing at the empty stool. “It depends. Are you going to be annoying?”

She gasped in faux-offense. “What makes you think I could ever be annoying?”

“On that note, I think you better get back to Potter.” He motioned with his head towards the side of the room where most of her Gryffindor friends were chatting. Harry was staring at her, his fists clenched by his side.

Y/N smirked and sent him a wink.

“On that note,” she said, careful to imitate Malfoy’s drawl and sending him a smug grin, “Maybe I better sit here.”

“Hm.” He awarded her one more uninterested look before rolling up his sleeves and setting out the ingredients for the potion they were brewing--Amortentia.

She tried not to make it too obvious that she was staring at his left arm, but there was nothing on it like Harry had told her. It was just pure, unblemished pale skin that shimmered under the light. Before he could catch her looking, she quickly sat down and started pulling out her own things. After a short pause, she decided to take out the silver quill. She’d left his box back in her room--she wouldn’t be caught dead with something that had the Malfoy crest on it--but she’d wrapped it in a pouch with her own family’s emblem on the front, shimmering in gold and red.

“Why don’t you just buy your own charmed quills?” asked Malfoy after they had chopped all of the gillweed.

“You already know. We’re an abomination to the French. We aren’t allowed entry.”

“That’s not what I mean.” His tone was meant to read as exasperated, but his words still seemed good-natured.

“I...well.” She frowned. She’d never confessed this to anyone, but she supposed that Malfoy wasn’t going to find a way to use it against her. “I don’t like to flaunt my family wealth. I think it makes people, at least in Gryffindor, like me less. I learned that pretty early on.”

He hummed something in response before sliding all the gillweed into the cauldron, turning the clear liquid into a bubbling forest green.

“Why are you being so nice to me all of a sudden?” she asked.

He took his time finishing the note he was jotting down before he answered. “I’m not being nice. It’s just called being civil. You said it yourself, we see each other at balls sometimes.”

“We probably won’t anymore, though,” she mused.

Malfoy’s eyebrows shot up, but his voice remained low and steady. “No. I suppose that we probably won’t. Is your family part of the Order?”

“Hm. Are you a Death Eater?” she asked brazenly. He had no business asking her something like that, and he knew it. Especially not with his family connections.

“What do you think?” he drawled, waving his bared left arm in front of her face.

“Bullshit. That doesn’t mean anything after we learned Glamour spells last year.”

“Guess you’ll just have to trust me, then,” he responded, focusing intently on the bubbling liquid in front of him instead of her face.

“I guess so,” she replied. The weight of her Glamour comment began to sink in--she was right, after all. How had she not thought of it before?

But he was right when he told her she just had to trust him. Could she? Y/N rested her chin in the palm of her propped hand as she watched him work. A piece of disobedient moonbeam blonde hair dangled over his forehead as he diced up the unicorn tail, his eyebrows furrowed in focus.

“Is this why you want to be my partner?” he finally asked after a few moments of silence. “So you can just stare at me while I do all the work?”

“There’s the vain Draco I know,” she said, grinning as she leaned over to punch his shoulder.

He rolled his eyes again, scooting out of arm's reach before flipping back to Amortentia in his book. “You’re insufferable. And it’s Malfoy to you.”

“Fine, fine, Malfoy,” said Y/N. “What do you want me to do, then?”

He shoved his cutting board towards her, the half-diced unicorn tail staring up at her. “Finish dicing this and then stir it in. 9 times clockwise. I did almost all of the work, but it should be finished after that.”

Y/N sent him another glare before doing as he said. The glittering quill kept catching her attention from the corner of her eye, and she couldn’t help but notice that Malfoy was writing with just a plain white quill for the time being. HE really did just give it to me.

After the final ingredients were diced, she began to stir, each rotation around the cauldron turning the potion to a different color. It began as the bubbling green, then a deep sea blue, then a royal purple, a crimson blood red, a glimmering gold--before settling into a pale silver.

“Wow. It’s beautiful,” she breathed. “It’s like...liquid starlight.”

“All thanks to me,” said Malfoy. “You didn’t even have to crush the Mandrake root.”

“You’re such a gentleman, Malfoy.” Her voice dripped in fake sincerity. “So, what do you smell?”

Y/N was expecting him to scowl at her and tell her that it wasn’t any of her business, but he actually leaned over the cauldron and shut his eyes.

“I’ve never been good at explaining what things smell like.”

“Fair.”

Once he leaned back, she took his place, shutting her eyes and breathing in a tendril of the beautiful potion. “Whoa.”

“What’s it for you?”

“I don’t...know,” she admitted. “It’s not something I can describe note by note. It kind of reminds me of something, though.”

“Something with Potter, I presume?” he said, casually twirling his generic white quill around his fingers.

“No,” she answered, surprised at how honest she was being. “It’s…I’m trying to think. Er, it’s very lavish. It reminds me of when I was younger and my parents would drag me to galas and balls and whatnot.”

He stared at her in silence.

“What about you? Does it remind you of anything?”

“Yeah.” Malfoy reached forward to put a lid on the cauldron, effectively shutting out the steam from reaching either of them.

“Ooh, have you figured it out yet?” she teased, crossing her legs and turning to face him head on. “Let me guess. Is it someone like…”

She paused, a wicked smile stretching across her face. “Oh my god, is it Hermione? Or Luna? Or...help me out here!”

“No.” His voice was sour.

“Ah, it’s Parkinson then, isn’t it? Tell her I’m sorry for throwing food at her if you ever have the chance. Make sure to add the part where I’m more sorry that I missed.”

“Y/L/N!”

“It’s okay. I’d be a little let down, too.”

“Can you please just…” He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Please just stop. I haven’t figured it out. Okay? Happy now?”

“I’ll leave you alone,” said Y/N. “Under one condition. You give me a hint. I’ve given you everything I know! This isn’t fair.”

“This doesn’t have to be fair,” he hissed.

Y/N kept the easy smile plastered on her face while she waited, her eyebrows raised in anticipation.

“You’re not going to let up until I tell you, are you?”

“You’d be right on that,” she said, sugary sweet.

“Fine. It’s something kind of floral.”

“How descriptive,” she snorted as she slumped back in her stool, thinking hard. Where had she smelled it before? Y/N shut her eyes, leaning her head back and trying to immerse herself into the memory that had surfaced. It smelled like grandeur, like an open ballroom full of guests wearing expensive perfumes. She could feel spinning, spinning like she was with a dance partner. Who was it? She couldn’t quite remember--the last ball she’d been to had been years ago--but after she leaned forward and smelled the Amortentia once more time, she came to a conclusion.

“I had to have danced with him at a gala before,” she announced to Malfoy, who was looking quite unimpressed. “So I know it’s no one from Gryffindor.”

“Interesting,” was all he said before turning to his parchment and jotting something down.

Late that night, while Y/N was settling into bed, a strange idea struck her. Sure that the thought that was nagging her was completely fruitless, she had no trouble with reaching into her desk and pulling out the Malfoy box. She just had to check if she wanted to sleep well.

Here goes.

She closed her eyes, imagining the expensive scent of her Amortentia. Then she opened it, stuck her nose into the fabric, and breathed in.

Well, fuck.

The internal debate going through Y/N the next day at the breakfast table was intense. On one hand, she really, really wanted to just tell Hermione that Malfoy had been in her Amortentia and she was completely fucked, but on the other…

She glanced at the witch next to her as she methodically sliced her toast into perfect, equivalent squares before dunking them in jam. Y/N liking Malfoy was not going to fit into her toast cubes. If she said anything, she would lose her excuse to talk to her about him. And her excuse to try and get close with him.

Perhaps I can figure it out tomorrow.

When tomorrow came, she still hadn’t made progress. Y/N was beginning to think that her so called “revelation” after they brewed Amortentia was truly just complete and utter bullshit. So what that his quill box smelled like it--all rich people kind of smelled the same at some points, and so did their houses. There was a reason why she couldn’t immediately pin the scent to anything--it wasn’t like she even knew what Malfoy smelled like.

But the truth remained that she was still attracted to someone who happened to be a rich Slytherin--so naturally, her mind began to wander. There’s no way it was Zabini--his mother owned a fragrance line, and she would’ve instantly recognized the cologne that she knew Mrs. Zabini made him wear--and there was absolutely no way that it was Crabbe or Goyle, so the only other Slytherin it left was...Nott? But that didn’t make sense either--she’d never spoken to him before in her life, even less than Malfoy. So perhaps it would be better if she didn’t think on it.

The next day of potion brewing came on a stormy Wednesday. Malfoy and Y/N worked silently together to brew a Draught of Dreamless Sleep. She was surprised to see how practiced his movements were--he didn’t even have to reference the book to recite the exact measurements and directions.

“Do you have bad dreams or something?” she asked, mostly as a joke. He didn’t seem to pick up on the light-heartedness and stiffened up.

“No?”

“Gee, you’re talkative today,” Y/N said, trying to ignore how her hand brushed his by accident when she added the scoop of anjelica.

“Excuse me for not entertaining you,” he drawled. “I wasn’t expecting to have such a needy potions partner today.”

“I am not needy!” she gasped, smacking his arm. “I’ve sat in silence for a full hour!”

He rolled his eyes (he was always rolling his eyes) and gave the potion one more final stir before setting the lid on the cauldron. “Think you can do that again? It needs to simmer for that long.”

“Just because you’re so sweet to me,” crooned Y/N before pulling out a heavy book from her satchel. Her Charms exam was tomorrow, and, naturally, she had decided to save all of her revising work until the night before. The textbook stared back at her as she jotted a few notes onto a previously blank sheet of parchment. The quill in her hands was light and glided across the paper like the tears of Merlin, something that she had forgotten quills could do. All of her familiar basic quills were okay, but they were prone to skidding and breaking. This nib hadn’t worn down in the slightest, still at a smooth and defined peak.

Y/N couldn’t believe that, out of all people, the person to give her such a thoughtful gift was Draco Malfoy. She tried to sneak a glance at him then, moving her curtain of hair away from her face. It took all she had in her to not be startled at the fact that he was already looking back, a slightly concerned expression etched into his face.

“Is something wrong?”

He snapped out of it the moment the words left her lips, his face hardening. “No.”

“Forget I ever asked,” she responded, turning away from him for good and focusing on her textbook. No, there was no way he could be what she smelled in her Amortentia. She liked to think that her subconscious wasn’t secretly a masochist.

Friday evening swung around again, much to Y/N’s dismay. She’d had a talk with Hermione later on in the week, confirming that no, she did not smell Malfoy in her Amortentia, and that yes, she was still abiding by the plan that Hermione had so carefully laid out for her. It did bother her a bit that she could be lying to her on both fronts--but at the end of the day, she was going to get the answers that Harry wanted, no matter what.

She just had to get through the scary ass castle first. She’d forgotten how spooky Hogwarts was after her previous sprint to the door, and this time she was positively trembling by the time she turned another dark corner on her way to McGonagall’s office. Yet another cursed item had been found in the girl’s lavatory on the 3rd floor, right by some of the classes that she had taken earlier in the week. The fact that whoever was out there was capable of dark magic and actively wanted to hurt people terrified her, all that Gryffindor bravery be damned.

So when she heard footsteps suddenly right beside her, it was no wonder that she jumped feet in the air.

“Fuck!” she sputtered, turning to see a very familiar blonde in Slytherin robes. He was frozen in place, curiously looking her up and down.

“Am I interrupting something?”

“Malfoy,” Y/N said, resisting the urge to melt into a puddle of relief at the sight. This wasn’t right--wasn’t he a suspected Death Eater? “You scared me.”

He scoffed, digging his hands into his pockets. “You’re supposed to be the brave ones, right?”

“Huh?”

Malfoy motioned to her Gryffindor jumper.

“Oh.” Heat rushed to her cheeks as she realized what he meant. “I dunno. I just get jumpy around the castle at night.”

“No shit.” They’d begun to walk now, side by side. Y/N couldn’t remember ever walking with him before--she’d always been late. “Do you think I forgot the way you screamed when you saw me at the tower?”

“Shut up,” she grumbled, reaching over and giving him a healthy shove.

They walked in silence together. Malfoy moved noticeably slower than he normally did so he wouldn’t leave Y/N’s shorter legs in tow. McGonagall seemed pleasantly surprised to see Malfoy hold the door open for her.

“I’m glad to see you two getting along,” she said, giving Y/N a hesitant nod before grabbing the stack of papers on her desk. “I’ll be back momentarily.”

After she exited the room with a swish of her deep maroon robes, Malfoy turned to her. “Are you scared of the dark or something?”

She turned, ready to send a biting retort his way, before she noticed how gray his pallor looked...and how big the circles under his eyes were. “You look like shit, Malfoy. Is everything okay?”

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t change the subject.”

“Oh. Um…” Y/N pause before deciding that the little tidbit of information she was about to reveal wasn’t that important anyways. “I’m just on edge at night at Hogwarts is all. Especially with all that weird shit going on with all the cursed objects. So I kind of hate walking to and from detention.”

Malfoy let out something that sounded like a strained laugh.

“You didn’t answer my question. Is everything okay?”

“None of your business,” he snipped. “I just had a bad night.”

“Do you have trouble sleeping?” she asked, unable to keep herself from prying.

“Something like that.”

“Have you tried lavender?”

“I’m sorry?” He frowned.

“Lavender. Like the essential oil. It’s nothing magical,” she explained. “I just like to spray it in my bed sometimes before I sleep. Or I’ll use a few drops in a diffuser. I have trouble sleeping too, all the time, actually.” She shut her mouth before she had any chance to ramble further.

“It sounds a bit too floral for my taste.”

“Here.” Y/N dug around in her satchel, searching for the tiny spray bottle she kept with her at all times. “Borrow this and spritz your pillow with it before you sleep, and then tell me it’s too floral. I promise it helps.”

He glared at her. She extended her hand with the white bottle that was covered in purple decor, raising her eyebrows expectantly. “I won’t tell anyone that you have it if that’s what you’re worried about or whatever.”

“Fine,” he snapped, snatching it from her hand and dragging his fingers over her palm for just a second. “Don’t expect me to actually try it, though.”

“Just give it a sniff.”

He huffed, but to her surprise, he actually uncapped the top and held the spray hole up to his nose, inhaling in once.

The effect was immediate. Malfoy’s face completely drained of color, becoming even grayer than he’d been when she first saw him under the light. The briefest expression of surprise fleeted over his face before he wiped it off, replacing it with something unreadable and tossing it back at her. “I’m not using this.”

“Why not?”

“Not quite my taste,” he spat.

Y/N was shocked by the sudden outburst, watching as he continued to glower at his desk. “I don’t understand. It really does help you sleep. I know it seems stupid, but I...really think you should try it. Just once, if anything.”

“Why does it matter so much to you?”

“Because I--” Y/N stopped herself before she let her mouth run without check. “I know what it’s like is all. I feel like shit if I don’t sleep. Plus, I have to spend time with you every Friday. I imagine that you’ll be slightly more tolerable if you sleep more.”

“Hm.” He sent her a particularly venomous glare. “Thanks for your concern. Consider me uninterested, though.”

“You break my heart,” she teased, pulling back her hand and placing the bottle on the corner of her desk. An idea struck her.

“And just what are you smiling about?” Draco said. His lips were turned into a sour frown.

“Nothing, nothing,” she responded, her voice adopting a sing-song quality. All she had to do now was wait.

He exhaled, a deep and exasperated sound. Then he turned back to whatever was in front of him.

McGonagall entered the room a few minutes later, nodding cordially at the comfortable silence the two students were in. What she didn’t know was that Y/N was waiting, just waiting for Malfoy to dig through his satchel and stop paying attention to his quill.

She got her opportunity a few minutes later, when McGonagall called him up to look over his latest Transfiguration homework.

“Mr. Malfoy, I’m happy to see that you’re taking more initiative in getting your assignments done...I have to say that you had me a bit concerned…”

While her professor kept Malfoy occupied, Y/N darted over and grabbed his quill.

Ha.

Malfoy frowned down at his desk when he returned, giving Y/N a suspicious look.

“What is it, Malfoy?” she said, hoping her voice conveyed nothing that might hint that she took something of his.

“Nothing.”

“Hm.”

The rest of detention passed without any more discussion. Y/N was eager to run up to her dorm and set up her plan to be carried out the next morning, but she calmed her bouncing leg and forced herself to keep a straight face when McGonagall dismissed them.

“Got somewhere to be, Y/L/N?” Malfoy’s voice called after her as she sped down the hall towards the Gryffindor tower.

“What’s it to you?” she fired back.

He didn’t respond. Instead, he picked up his pace until he was walking next to her.

“Aren’t the Slytherin dorms the other direction?” she asked.

“I don’t know. Are they?”

She allowed herself to be amused by the way words flowed out of his mouth when he was slightly out of breath. “Why are you walking with me?”

“You said it yourself.” He kept his eyes cast on the cobblestones below them. “You don’t like walking alone at night.”

“Uh...oh.” Against her will, her feet froze and she was glued to the ground. “You’re joking, right?”

If the lighting wasn’t so dim, Y/N would have good reason to believe he was blushing with how intently he was studying his fingernails. “By all means, I can be.”

“No! No, I didn’t mean it like that,” she said, the words tumbling out of her mouth. “Er...I’d like you to. If you want to, that is.”

He shrugged, an elfish expression spreading across his face as he took in how nervous she was. “Well, come to think of it, you didn’t ask me to. I suppose I better get back to the Slytherin dorms anyways. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere near the Gryffindor Tower right now.”

“Why?” she squeaked.

“Oh, you know, I don’t think it’s a coincidence that most of the cursed things showed up on your side of the castle, yeah?”

She gulped.

“I gotta get going. Don’t want to stand around here too long. This place gives me the creeps.” With that, he turned and began walking away.

“Malfoy?” She hated how timid her voice sounded. “Consider this me asking you to walk with me.”

He slowly faced her, a sly grin plastered all over his face. “Oh? Did I hear that correctly? Do you want me to?”

“I’m only going to say this once,” she said, putting her hands on her hips and trying her best to look intimidating. “Walk with me. Please.”

“I guess I’ll take it.” Malfoy glided down the hallway to her in just a couple steps, sending her yet another smug look.

“You made up that whole ordeal about Gryffindor Tower being targeted, didn’t you?” asked Y/N as they rounded the corner to reach the staircase leading up to the common room.

“You bought it, didn’t you?”

“Who says I didn’t just want you to walk with me?” pushed Y/N. This was as close to flirting as it would ever get for her--but it looked like, somehow, things were falling into place. The heat in her cheeks must’ve been from the excitement of making progress.

Malfoy’s toe caught on the first stair and, if it weren’t for Y/N’s steady grip on his arm, would’ve made him go sprawling across the stone steps.

“Merlin, Malfoy,” she said, immediately dropping her grip from his shoulder. “What’s gotten into you?”

He responded with an unceremonial snort and a withering glare. The rest of the walk was done in silence, and Y/N noted how careful his footwork became around the Gryffindor steps.

“This is me,” she finally said once they reached the tapestry for the Gryffindor dorms. He seemed surprised, and only then did it strike her that he’d probably never seen the entrance himself before. “Thanks for being such a gentleman.”

“I live to serve,” he drawled.

And just like that, he was gone.

Her plan was simple. She had located an extra monogrammed pouch in her cabinet, a rich mahogany color with her family crest in a vivid gold, and placed both his quill and the lavender bottle. She would corner him after breakfast or follow him out of the Great Hall and show him then.

However, it was becoming increasingly obvious that Malfoy was not coming to Saturday morning breakfast. Many people didn’t, but Y/N had never known him to miss it. His normal spot was vacant, and it certainly wasn’t a house-made decision as all of his Slytherin friends were present and accounted for. Y/N couldn’t say for sure, but she could see Parkinson turning her head to the entrance every time the doors thudded open before glancing back to Malfoy’s empty seat when it turned out to be someone else.

Where was that loser?

“Excuse me,” she said to the trio as she stood up and brushed off her skirt. “I think I’m going to go get some fresh air. I have a bitch of a headache.”

Hermione and Harry expressed their sympathies while Ron gave her a characteristic mumble through his mouthful of bread, and she was off with the pouch secured in her cloak pocket.

It was a clear November morning, clearly Mother Nature’s attempt to slowly move the world from the crisp autumn to a cold winter. The sky was clear and the sun’s rays warmed her skin at a slanted angle, casting weak shadows across the courtyard.

If I were Malfoy, where would I go to sulk?

The obvious answer was either the Slytherin common room or his own dorm, but that was without a doubt out of question for her. She wasn’t even sure if she possessed the knowledge to guess which corridor the entrance was in, much less work out the password herself. Beyond that, just getting into the common room and waiting would be...She shivered. It would be a terrible idea while she was clearly wearing a cloak in Gryffindor red and gold trim.

As she continued her aimless wander around the castle, she heard the slightest sound from the girl’s bathroom on the second floor. It wasn’t ever really in use--no one came in there to actually use the loo unless they wanted Myrtle to materialize and tell them her supernatural troubles while they were in the middle of their personal business--but it was often the source of strange happenings.

Like the cursed objects she thought to herself, her nails digging into her palms. But did she care about that right now? Surely cursed objects seemed somewhat...suspicious. Dark magic was difficult to hide, and to a pureblood eye that grew up around magical objects, cursed things shouldn’t be impossible to spot.

And, plus, it was Malfoy she was looking for. None of the students had died from the curses so far, and if she was able to break through and learn something, or at the very least gain his trust, the reward to the Order would be more than worth it.

She stepped in, expecting to see an entirely empty bathroom with perhaps a ghost rattling around at the sink. Instead, a different sight awaited her.

Draco Malfoy was clutching the edge of the cracked sink basin in front of him, rocking himself back and forth and shaking. From her vantage point, she could see that he was dressed in his normal garb--a black ensemble--but his hair was unruly and messy, sticking up in the back like he’d hurriedly tugged something over his head.

A strangled gasp grounded her and halted her curious observations. Malfoy began to make these awful sobbing sounds, like he could barely manage to breathe.

Y/N was frozen in place as she surveyed her options. If she stayed and tried to talk to him, he might react in anger or hurt her. But if she just left him, like this, all alone...She swallowed once before stepping forward.

“Malfoy? Are you okay?” Obviously he’s not, you bint said a voice deep in her brain. She pushed it aside as he swung around, his wand raised and his eyes blazing. “Whoa! I’m not going to...Put your wand down!”

He stared at her, his eyes wide with horror as he continued to shake, so much so that his wand slipped out of his hand and clattered to the floor. Without thinking, Y/N reached into her pocket and flung her wand away, holding her hands up.

“I’m not going to try anything. I promise.”

As she drew closer, she could see the remnants of tears on his wet cheeks and the way that his silver eyes were rimmed with a bloodshot red.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he hissed, his voice weak and cracking.

“Neither should you. This is the girl’s bathroom.”

final a/n: ok so lmk if you guys wants me to continue. i really did not edit the last half fjkdsal;f also kinda made this an au where malfoy tried to assassinate dumbledore. with more than one cursed object but dw it’ll all make sense ill clear that up 😭

#draco malfoy #draco x reader #draco malfoy x reader #draco imagine #draco malfoy imagine #draco x you #draco #draco malfoy x you #draco x y/n #draco malfoy x y/n #draco x oc #draco malfoy x oc

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tryingmyves · 3 years

Note

Hey Ves! I have a request for you! May you please do Shinsou, Todoroki, ( A character of your choice) who got hit by a quirk who turns them into a lil toddler and they’ve got the biggest crush on their female chubby/plus size classmate 🥺🥺💞 and when they turn back they confess to her💞

hiiii @blossominglark ~ tysm for your request! i’ve haven’t written something like this yet, so i hope you enjoy! ✨

Shinso’s First Crush

PAIRING: Hitoshi Shinso x Y/N (female, plus sized)

c/w: toddler!Shinso, mostly fluff

When you went to class this morning you thought it was just going to be a normal Monday, but the arrival of Mr. Aizawa with Eri and a small violet haired boy in tow announced that today would be different.

“Awh! Who’s this cutie?” Ochako asks, spotting the unfamiliar child first, “Did you make a new friend, Eri?”

“Don’t call me that!” the boy responds, his pudgy fists balling at his sides.

“There was a mishap last night while we were practicing Eri’s quirk,” Mr. Aizawa says, “She uh, rewound Shinso a little too far.”

Every eye in the classroom is now on the pint-sized Shinso, silence filling the room before a cacophony of reactions burst out all at once. Kaminari and Sero are laughing hysterically. Mina and Hakagure are fawning over how adorable little Shinsou is, while Midoriya is rushing to Eri from his desk to assure her that mistakes happen and no one is mad at her. Iida is questioning how to reverse the effects of Eri’s quirk, and even Bakugo looks amused at the announcement. You’re the only one who notices the quivering lip and watery eyes of tiny Shinso.

Since his introduction to your class you’ve been attempting to befriend him. He made it clear that he hadn’t transferred to the hero course to make friends, but you see passed his uncaring facade. He’s let other people’s comments of the possible malicious nature of his quirk effect his self perception. He is so used to people calling him a villain he can’t fathom he’ll ever be called a friend. And you are determined change that. You’ve made small progress towards your goal in the last month. He sits with you in the cafeteria and even accepted a few invitations to study with you and your group, but no significant progress. But now, seeing Shinso so vulnerable in front of your entire class makes you stand from your desk. Even if he isn’t “here to make friends” he needs one right now, so that’s what you are going to be.

You quickly walk to the front of the room and use your chubby frame to hide him from the overwhelming sight of the his classmates gawking at him. Lowering yourself to your knees so your plump face is level with his, you say, “hey, it’s alright Shinso. Everything’s going to be okay.” Subconsciously, your voice becomes softer and there’s a melodic tune to it. You know that the toddler in front of you is a member of your class and typically two months your senior, but right now he’s just a scared little boy. You can’t help but treat him like any other child.

He wipes at his nose with the back of his sleeve, sniffing back tears, “Y/N, they’re all staring at me. I… I don’t like it!” Shinso is mortified at his current state. He was so determined to do everything by himself to prove he belonged to be in the hero course, but now he’s been reduced to a helpless little kid. Worst of all, the kind, curvy and optimistic girl he’s been secretly crushing on the last month is now trying to console him. He’s normally so good at containing his emotions, but it seems Eri’s quirk has reversed his emotional maturity along with his age. Right now all he can manage to do is try to hide his face so no one can see his tears.

You extend your cushy arms outward, offering a hug and Shinso can’t help but rush into it. He feels so exposed right now but when you hold him against your plump body he feels a little safer. Like he’s wrapped up in a cocoon of you. He hopes he can just stay cloaked in you arms until his metamorphosis back to his old self is complete. However, that possibility is dashed by the arrival of All Might and a man you don’t recognize at the classroom door.

“Sorry we’re late, Aizawa. This is who I told you about on the phone.” All Might says, clapping a hand on the stranger’s shoulder. It turns out, among the countless connections All Might made as the Number One Pro Hero, is a hero who goes by TimeSkip, with the ability to fast forward time. In the hero world, he typically puts his quirk to use at the sights of natural climate disasters by accelerating the regrowth of the land so entire communities aren’t displaced. Luckily, he’s capable of aging or time skipping any living matter, not just plants. Mr. Aizawa had called All Might for help after the incident and was relived his colleague knew someone who could fix the current predicament.

“Shinso, go with All Might and TimeSkip. They’re going to get you back to normal,” your teacher says.

But Shinso just burrows himself deeper into you, pressing himself up to your chest. You can tell that he doesn’t want to separate from your comforting embrace. You turn your head over your shoulder, “Mr. Aizawa, would it be alright if I went with Shinso?” You drop your voice so you won’t be overheard by your classmates, “For emotional support,” you say with a light nod to the weeping Shinso in your arms. He just gives you a nod. You whisper down into Shinso’s hair, “It’s okay, this is almost over.” You take his small hand in your own and lead him out of the classroom, using your large frame to keep him out of sight of the others.

The pair of you follow All Might and his friend through the halls, eventually stopping in a vacant training room. TimeSkip explains how his quirk works to Shinso, who is still holding your hand and trying to hide behind one of your legs. With some gentle easing from you, Shinso finally lets go of you and takes TimeSkip’s hand instead. You stand in the hallway with your back to the door while Shinso is returned to his normal self. The hero had explained his clothes would not be growing with him, so it was best for you to wait outside. A few moments pass before the two heroes open the door and step out of the room.

“He’s all set in there, Y/N.” All Might says, “I think he’s a bit embarrassed, maybe you can cheer him up before the two of you return to class.”

You nod, thanking both All Might and TimeSkip before stepping in to talk to Shinso. He’s wearing his uniform now and leaning back against the wall, head low, and face covered by the mess of his purple hair.

“Hey Shi-“

“Please don’t talk about it,” his voice is quiet and filled with humiliation.

“Oh, yeah. It’s no big deal,” you try to brush it off. You want to comfort him and tell him that he doesn’t have to be self conscious, but you know that will just make him feel worse. “I was just coming to see-“

He cuts you off again, “Y/N, I have to tell you something. When I first transferred into the hero course I told you I wasn’t here to make friends. But then you kept talking to me and trying to get to know me and you started inviting me to lunch and study groups. And I… started to think that having you as a friend wouldn’t be such a bad thing.”

He looks up at you now and takes a step closer, moving away from the wall. “And I realize I like you more than that. I love how soft and round you are, and that you always make sure everyone’s included. That you don’t make yourself smaller because you deserve to take up space. I think you’re beautiful and I am too scared to say it.”

He take a few more steps towards you, so there’s only a foot left between you, “But then when I was frozen there in front of the class you swooped in. And I didn’t hesitate to fall into your arms. I didn’t let my stupid brain get in the way… so I have to tell you now, before I think better of it…”

You can help but smile at the confession. You’ve thought Shinso was cute from the moment you met him, but decided he needed a friend before trying to be something more than that. You didn’t realize that Shinso was crushing on you too. “I thought you didn’t want to talk about it.”

Shinso lets out a light chuckle, finally letting a smile reach his lips. “I don’t. But I had to get it out before I changed my mind. It only would have made it worse.”

You take a small step forward, halving the distance between you. “I, uhm, like you too you know.”

“Why would you want some lanky, closed off guy like me when your so curvy and beautiful?” Shinso breathes in disbelief.

“I guess I have a thing for tall guys,” you joke.

He just shakes his head at you, “Y/N, do you want to go on a date with me tomorrow night?”

You giggle and nod your head, holding out your arms the same way you did in the classroom, “I would love to,” you beam.

Shinso steps forward, enveloping you in a hug. Despite your plus size frame, he easily lifts your feet off the ground for a moment before gently setting you back down.

“I’ll pick you up at eight, okay? And… thank you for helping me today.”

“That’s what friends do,” you assure, excited at the possibility of becoming something more.

#hitoshi shinso #hitoshi shinsou #hitoshi shinso x y/n #shinsou x y/n #chubby y/n #hitoshi shinso x reader #shinsou x reader #bnha #mha #my hero academia #boku no hero #boku no hero academia #by ves #request

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theoreticslut · 4 years

Text

“It’s nice to see you happy, princess.”

part 1 / part 2

pairing: fred weasley x reader x george weasley

requested: no

word count: 3.9k

warnings: ANGST, light swearing

A/N: hi, hello! I, uh, almost forgot to post this ngl. You guys really liked the first two parts so I’m hoping you’ll like this part as well. fair warning, i hurt my heart writing this one so please let me know what you think! there will be at least one more part, but depending on how it pans out there may be more than that. quick reminders: thank you for being so supportive of me and my works, it truly means the world to me so just thank you. so much. hence i’m doing a 300 follower sleepover to thank all of you lovely people for following me. (I’m also taking requests too - you can check out my holiday prompt list here)

Taglist: @justmesadgirl @xuckduck @yikesyikesyikes95 @filipi-yes @aestheticwh0r3 @siredkai @matsuno-nadeshiko @msmarklee1213 @immajustreadwritereblog @msmimimerton @lauren2408 @mischievous-queen @bunnyboo7 @grandeoptimist @kaitlynw011 @daddystevee @slytherinxhunter

^let me know if you’d like to be added / removed!

You sigh as you lay your head down against the library table. It’s been just over a week since the fight between your ex and the twins.

As you had instructed, both Fred and George had checked in with you so you could assess how they were healing. Fred was looking much better; the few cuts he had had healed relatively quick with the help of the balm and his bruises were nearly gone save for his black eye. You expected that to be gone in another few days though.

George, however, worried you. His knuckles and small bruises on his hands and cheek healed perfectly, but the bruises to his torso were taking much longer. The balm was helping, but it didn’t seem to be healing it any faster.

Thinking about it made you upset. If George had just stayed out of the way he wouldn’t be all bruised up now and he and Fred wouldn’t have to spend a night in detention each week.

You groan as you turn your attention back to the assignment in front of you. It wasn’t due until Monday and it was only Thursday, but if you didn’t get it done today and tomorrow it wouldn’t be getting done.

“Y/n?”

You turn to see George watching you from a few feet away and you smile at him.

“Hey, George. What are you doing here?”

Since the night of the fight you and the twins had been getting along better. They often sat with you at meals or even just around the common room and would joke around. You had been getting to know each other more substantially. Before, you knew each other from what you’ve each observed or heard from other people. Now, you guys were actually learning and trying to get to know the other with deep conversations at night or even silly games of twenty questions when others, besides the golden trio, were around.

You enjoyed it, but along with getting to know the two better came a handful of other issues. You had always been aware of how attractive the two were, but now you found yourself zoning out in complete bliss whenever one of them looked at you or moved a certain way. Not to mention how your heart swelled whenever they smiled or laughed, especially if it was over something you had said or done. You knew you were falling in love with them, but you couldn’t find a way to stop it. You’re pretty sure you had been falling for them for awhile, but your irritation for the two had kept it at bay.

George scrunches his nose at you wondering why you would be here in the library so early in the morning. He knew you studied diligently, but on a Thursday morning before breakfast? You must surely be crazy.

You honestly could be crazy, but that wouldn’t change the fact of how attractive you were sitting there. George noticed how you sat with one leg tucked under the other which he was amazed at giving the chairs in here weren’t very wide. He noticed how tired you seemed, yet somehow still looked wide awake.

He could tell you had showered as your hair was still a bit damp and how he could smell your lovely perfume from this far away. All of it together drove him crazy, especially when he added in how you sat with your head resting in your hand and how adorably frustrated you were with whatever you were working on.

“I could ask you the same thing. Breakfast has just barely begun. How long have you been here?” He asks as he walks closer to you, not sitting down though.

“Oh, uhm, I don’t know. I was up a little before 6 and came here after I showered. Maybe two hours?”

“Two hours in the library before breakfast? You must be crazy.” He chuckles to which you roll your eyes.

You, Fred, and George were starting to form a friendship out of all this and it was exciting. It was surprisingly easy to talk and joke with them when you weren’t fuming over being pranked. You had even been able to understand and enjoy how brilliant their pranks were when you weren’t at the receiving end of them.

“I couldn’t sleep. What else am I supposed to do?”

He frowns as you start packing up your things. He and Fred had finally managed to apologize for butting into your business which you easily forgave them for. You probably wouldn’t have except for the fact that they had defended you and ended up getting hurt in the process. That and once you had started getting to know them, you knew they only did so because they cared.

You knew it was silly to forgive them solely because they had fought for you, but as you had told them, no one had ever done that for you. You were flattered and felt like you kind of owed them kindness at the very least.

“Why couldn’t you sleep?” He asks as he takes your books from you so you could put on your robes. You hated wearing the robes if you were just going about your business, so you often took them off when studying.

“Not sure, I haven’t been sleeping well most of this week.”

“Does it have anything to do with that fight?” He asks gently, watching your face for any indication that it was.

“No,” you frown.

“Y/n. Please stop trying to be fine.” George begs, giving you those signature puppy dog eyes you’ve seen them use before.

“Fred and I can both tell you’re still upset about it all.”

“It’s that obvious, huh?” You joke as you sigh. Even though you were glad they had been there for you, you were still upset it all happened in the first place.

“You’re like an open book.” He smiles, bumping his shoulder into yours to get you to smile.

You weren’t sure how, but it seems that Fred and George just understand you without you even having to say anything. It was kind of scary and a little bit annoying, but they knew when to back off in a conversation or when to grab ahold of your hand to comfort you. They just knew and it made you feel special. It’s just another reason you found yourself falling for them.

“I guess I’m still just a bit scared, George. I knew he was a pig, but I never thought he’d try to hurt me like that.” You admit and george frowns, watching as you relive it.

When your hand comes up to trace the line of faint bruises that’re left on your neck from his hands, George grabs a hold of your hand, kissing the back of it. He doesn’t like to think about what that gremlin could’ve done.

“I sometimes wonder what would’ve happened if you and Fred weren’t there...” you trail off. “I mean would I even be here right now? Then, I wake up gasping for air.” You frown, feeling a bit naked telling him this, but at the same time you feel that he’ll understand and know what to say.

George shivers at the thoughts running through your head. He abruptly stops the two of you from walking, setting your books on a ledge as he pulls you into him. It’s not fair that you still have to relive that day after day. It never should have happened in the first place.

“I’m so sorry, darling. Godrick, I would give anything to take away this pain.” He sighs, holding you tight to his chest, your arms wrapped around his stomach as his are wrapped around around your shoulders and the back of your head to keep your face buried in his chest. Unconsciously he plays with the ends of your hair and you smile lightly, hugging him a bit tighter.

~.~

“Y/n!” You hear your name called as Fred and George sit down on either side of you in charms the next day.

They both have huge smiles on their faces and you wonder what in merlin’s name they were up to.

“Hey, guys.”

“You’ve got to see this!” Fred smiles, winking at you.

“See what? You guys are up to something, aren’t you?”

“Always, darling.” George smiles, keeping his eyes across the desks to where Will sits.

“What have you done now?”

“Just watch. You’re going to enjoy it.” Fred smirks.

When George had told him how terrified you still were because of Will, they knew they had to find a way to get him back for you. They had to embarrass him and make him realize that he couldn’t keep going around being an ass. They had spent a good majority of the night working on this just for you.

You sigh but do as they say, giggling as they nudge your sides when Will finally walks in to his seat where an envelope had been sitting.

You watch as he opens it, jumping back as it starts sounding an alarm.

“STAY AWAY! THIS MAN IS TRAGICALLY DIM WITTED AND ABUSIVE!” It shouts, fireworks and confetti exploding from it as it spits bright red ink onto him.

It repeats itself a couple more times before burning up in a display of fireworks.

You have to bite your lip to hold back your laughter at the pure embarrassment written across his face as the rest of the class is chatting and laughing amongst themselves at his expense.

“Guys!” You say a bit shocked but impressed nonetheless.

“You like it?” George asks.

“It’s a bit over the top, but it was really funny.” You admit, smiling as you still try to hold back your laughter.

“The best part of it is that that ink can’t be removed until it disappears 12 hours from now.” Fred says, leaning in so only you and George can hear.

“No!” You gasp, hiding your smile behind your hand.

“Oh, yeah. Everyone will know what he’s done.” George smiles and you can’t help but start laughing.

Fred and George look at each other and smile, both of them biting on their bottom lips to keep from smiling too big. They couldn’t help it though, after everything that’s happened, they were ecstatic to see you happy and laughing. And knowing it was because of them, Merlin that was a thousand times better.

“It’s nice to see you happy, princess.” Fred smiles, wrapping him arms around you waist as he pulls you closer to him on the bench.

“Thank you, guys. You’re too good to me.” You smile, hugging Fred before turning and hugging George.

~.~

“I should have known it was Fred and George’s doing!” Hermione chuckles when you tell her what the twins had done in charms today.

“Oh Merlin, Hermione, it was hilarious! You should have seen the look on his face, he was so embarrassed and confused. It was honestly so great knowing he finally understood how I felt.”

“I’m just glad you’re happy, y/n. You deserve it more than anything.” The twins hear Hermione say to you as they come up to your door. They can only imagine you smiling and blushing at her words on the other side.

They smile, loving the idea of you so happy. They had only been falling more in love with you since starting this friendship, but there was no way they’d complain about it.

They loved the ache in their chest when you did anything remotely cute and the racing of their hearts only reminded them that they were alive and could feel such love for someone. They couldn’t complain about how sweaty their palms got or how dry their throats became when they got nervous around you because to them, it was all worth it. They couldn’t imagine being in love with anyone but you. You were absolute perfection in their eyes and would happily have to endure any form of torture if it meant they could still see you.

This was so much better than pranking you and getting you riled up. While they did love when you got angry with them over something so trivial, they loved having their breath taken away whenever you hugged them or chuckled at them. Having you close to them was so much better than anything they could have imagined.

They gently knock on the door to have Hermione open it a few seconds later.

“Oh, your boys are here.” She smiles, letting them into the room.

“They’re not my boys, ‘mione.” You mumble, rolling your eyes as a blush creeps across your cheeks before you smile at the two redheads who have taken a seat on your bed.

Hermione smirks at you, raising an eyebrow as she knows how you feel about them. You had only been talking to her about it every other night this week.

She was aware that you liked them long before now, however. Even though you had only ever shown irritation for the two, the way in which you spoke of them and the words you used gave it away that you had some sort of feelings for them other than resentment.

You pout at her, not wanting her to just blurt it out. You were embarrassed with how fast you had fallen for them.

“Alright,” she smirks. “I’ll be down in the common room for a bit. Have fun and try not to make a mess. We did just tidy this up earlier.” Hermione smiles.

“Got it, mum. No messes.” You chuckle, still blushing furiously. The twins smile at you, biting their lips to keep from laughing.

You were so playful. They hadn’t ever seen this side of you and godrick was it amazing.

“Oh Merlin. I’ll be back.” She sighs, rolling her eyes at you, but smiling nonetheless. She truly is excited to see you happy again. You were happy with Will, but he had been slowly draining you. Watching you with the twins was like watching a new person.

“No hurry, ‘mione. Maybe you can get some quality time in with your guy.” You suggest, smiling at her. You knew she liked Ron, but he was beyond oblivious to any advancement she tried to make.

“Doubtful, but maybe.” She chuckles, leaving the room shortly after.

“Hi, guys.” You smile, finally taking a seat at the end of your bed, facing them.

“You’re quite a playful minx, aren’t you?” Fred chuckles, smiling at you.

“Sometimes.” You chuckle, smiling a bit.

“Merlin you’re gorgeous.” He smiles, studying you as you blush.

You being a flustered mess was one of the twins’ favourite sights. They loved that they could make you blush with a simple compliment or look or even a light touch.

“Stop staring at me!” You chuckle, embarrassed by the two of them admiring you.

Trying to get out of their gazes you get up and head over to the bathroom to grab the bruise healing balm you’ve been applying.

You knew they were flirty people to begin with having seen how easily they throw around flirty comments and it was no different when it came to you. They had always made flirty comments and complimented you, but you were positive they were just teasing you so you always got really annoyed.

Since apologizing and becoming friends, however, whenever they would sneak flirty comments or compliments into your conversations you would blush madly and become all flustered. You so badly wanted their words to be sincere but you truly doubted they were. They were flirts and couldn’t possibly like you as you did them, right?

“What else are you supposed to do with a masterpiece?” George asks and you gape.

“Godrick, you two are such flirts. No wonder the entire female student body fawn over you.” You chuckle, still furiously blushing as you get back on the bed.

You wait for one of them to lift their shirt so you could start working on getting the balm on them. Anything to divert your attention from their words.

“We’ve only got eyes for you though.” Fred winks and you groan, rolling your eyes but smiling.

“Come on, now. You’re here so I can see how you’re healing, not to flirt with me.”

“Who says we’re not here to do both?” He asks, looking over to his brother who only smiles at you.

“Just get your shirt up, Fred.”

He smirks and winks at you before doing as you ask.

You look over his sides to see that he’s pretty much healed. The bruises have faded really well.

“Like what you see, princess?” He asks, smiling, but not seeming to be joking anymore.

“Godrick, you’re unbelievable. I think your preset to flirt no matter the situation, huh?” You ask, smiling as he winks at you.

“Alright, George. You’re turn.”

He smiles and takes his shirt off, stretching his one arm over his head in the pillows so it’s not in you’re way.

“It’s actually looking a lot better tonight, George. For awhile I was wondering if it was helping any.” You admit as you take some balm and smooth it onto his side where he flinches.

“It tickles tonight.” He chuckles. All you can do is shake your head and smile. These boys were beyond adorable.

“I love you.” He whispers after a couple minutes as you’re still applying the balm.

“What?” You ask just as Fred smacks him.

“Fred! Are you seriously trying to bruise him more?” You huff, frowning at the twin who seems to be pouting.

“We were supposed to tell you together.” He huffs.

“Tell me what?”

“That we love you.” He mumbles, not quite looking up at you, too embarrassed to see your face.

You gape at the two of them, not believing that their serious, which is why you start laughing.

“What’s so funny?” Fred pouts.

You continue laughing, shaking your head. You wonder how long they had been thinking about this joke. Did they know you loved them and wanted to see what you’d do if they said they loved you?

“That’s a really good joke guys. You don’t love me.”

“What do you mean we don’t love you?” Fred asks, looking at you incredulously.

“We’re not joking, y/n.” George frowns.

“Sure you aren’t. You just wanted to see what I’d do, right?” You laugh, shaking your head. They can’t possibly love you. It just doesn’t make sense.

“No. We just really love you.” Fred says, watching you with hurt in his eyes. You can’t really believe this is all a joke, right?

“We have for ages, y/n. We’re just, we’re really bad at showing our feelings.” George adds, watching you as you shake your head, not able to make sense of all of this.

“No. No! I’m sorry, but you guys don’t love me. You-you feel sorry for me. Sorry that I got cheated on, sorry that I got choked, sorry that you had to pull pranks on me nearly everyday for a good two years. You don’t love me. I don’t think you ever could love me.”

You close your eyes, trying to keep the tears at bay. You don’t need to cry right now, not when they’re playing with you. You don’t need to show them just how weak you are to them.

“You’re absolutely crazy, y/n.” Fred says, his hurt turning to frustration.

Godrick, he has loved you so much and you really think it’s all a joke. How can you possibly think that when they had literally fought for you? They pranked your ex for you to show you that you had no reason to be scared of him anymore. How could you say they didn’t love you?

“Not as crazy as you to think I’d believe this! You really think I’d believe that you two love me when you antagonized me day after day when I clearly wasn’t happy with it. You were purposefully trying to upset me! Then you guys only stop after I break down crying? That’s not love, Freddie.” You hiss, not being able to help the few tears that escape your eyes.

“Y/n, darling, we know you don’t believe us but we really really do love you. We’ve loved you since Merlin knows when.” George tries to intervene, but you don’t care to hear it.

“If you guys loved me then why would you torment me?” You ask completely sincere, tears now flowing down your cheeks.

“Because we’re gits! We don’t know how to handle our emotions when it comes to you! You are so bloody perfect that we really don’t know what to do around you.” Fred shouts.

“We can’t hardly breathe because you take our breathe away every second of the day with either the way you look or some adorable thing you do. We constantly feel like we’ve just finished running a marathon because our hearts are racing so fast and our palms are so sweaty due to how nervous you make us. We feel like we’re going to be sick due to all the butterflies you give us. Good Merlin, y/n, you have us completely wrapped around your finger and you don’t even know!” He finishes, completely aghast that you can’t see it.

You chew on your lip, tears still streaming down your face as you look at the two of them. George had put his shirt back on at some point in all of this and was looking at you in shock yet still upset. It’s like he wanted to pull you into a hug and comfort you, but not doing so in fear of how you’d react.

Fred just looks heartbroken. He’s angry beyond belief, like you’d be scared to encounter him like this in any other setting, but he looked so defeated.

You wanted to believe them. You so desperately wanted to believe that they loved you, but your mind and your heart was telling you that they just couldn’t. Not after what they’ve done to you and what’s happened with Will. You just really can’t believe that anyone could love you.

“You’re not going to say anything?” Fred asks, still upset.

You stay silent as you stare at him. You would love to say something, but you just can’t seem to find anything to say.

“Godrick, y/n. I really can’t understand you sometimes. Here we are standing in front of you proclaiming our love to you and you refuse to believe it. As much as I’d love to be able to call you mine, if you can’t realize how deeply in love with you we are, then I can’t hang around waiting for you. It just hurts too damn much.” Fred sighs, shaking his head and leaving your room.

You look to George who’s watching you, wanting to stay here with you to comfort you and just to be with you, but also knowing he should follow his twin to make sure he’s alright.

“I-I should follow him,” he finally says to which you nod, not able to look at him anymore.

“We really do love you, y/n. I hope you can realize that soon.” He sighs, squeezing your hand before going after his brother.

Once the door shuts behind him you let out a sob you’ve been holding back. It hurts so much seeing them leave knowing that their upset with you, but you just can’t accept that they love you. Not right now.

366 notes · View notes

kafka-ish · 4 years

Text

richie tozier gets off a good one | r.t.

“This was not to say Richie could not be very funny from time to time; he could be. When referring to verbal zingers and farts, Richie’s terminology was the same: he called it Getting Off A Good One, and he got off Good Ones of both types frequently...” -- Stephen King

word count: 3.3k

warnings/included: nsfw (explicit smut, oral -- male receiving, male x female, mentions of masturbating), fem!reader

a/n: pls enjoy !

It was a cold shower kind of afternoon as the thunder from outside Richie’s bedroom window roared loud enough to be mistaken for a dragon. Dragons don’t exist. Richie, however, ignored the booming sounds of nature from outside—his thoughts lost in a certain someone; and his ears muffled by the pillows encasing him.

y/n was coming over for a study session at two p.m. sharp, per Wentworth’s request, but Richie still had time as his left hand traveled to the zipper of his orange, corduroy trousers. It’s not like Richie knew y/n. This afternoon, this shameful afternoon where if his dad were home right now, he’d be caught with his hand in his pants and a name he’d rather not talk about in between his lips, would be his first time meeting the girl.

Wentworth Tozier was the one to suggest she come over on this grey Sunday afternoon during Thursday’s family dinner when he noticed Richie’s recent report card.

“A C in chemistry?”

“The C stands for Chemistry,” Richie said with a smirk on his face. It didn’t seem to work because Mr. Tozier’s frown didn’t budge, and Maggie Tozier only sipped her coffee which had to be cold by now.

“You know we expect better from you.” He was right. His parents weren’t used to anything other than a line of A’s on the weekly transcript he brought home. Richie wasn’t either. But lately, something had taken a toll on his grades—or someone.

“You know what might help him, dear?” Wentworth looked up from the chicken he was currently cutting through. “A tutor.”

“I do not need a tutor.” Richie dropped his fork which was being used to play with his green beans.

“Your grades say otherwise, kid,” Wentworth countered. “You know, Maggie, I think that’s a good idea.”

“Not you too, Dad!” Richie cried out, exasperated at the scene playing out in front of him.

Ignoring his son, Wentworth continued, “In fact, I think my buddy back from Catholic school has a kid who could tutor him.” He took a bite. “Last I heard, she was fairly good at the sciences.”

“You should think about calling them after dinner,” Maggie said without looking up. Which was how Richie ended up with only an hour left to get himself off rather than the rest of the day.

Although his hand was no match for any of his previous hookups, it was faster, and it got the job done. He was just about to finish when the doorbell rang and a knock on his door startled him from his position and kept him from finishing.

“Coming!” Richie yelled; certain that the outsider wasn’t going to hear him. He stood up from his position on his bed, pulled up the trousers that hung from his ankles and trekked his way downstairs. His feet made a thumping sound as they padded their way down the stairs—roughly at that. He was surprised the house didn’t shake at his footsteps. “We don’t want your Girl Scout cookies,” Richie said, half annoyed that his session was cut early.

“I’m not a Girl Scout.” y/n held open the door with her hand before Richie could close it. She wore a white button down that was haphazardly tucked into a blue-green, plaid skirt. Her already see-through blouse was even more see-through, as the rain from standing outside for so long had drenched it from the outside in.

“Oh.” Richie didn’t say anything for a moment. “I didn’t order a pizza, either.”

“I didn’t bring you a pizza, either.” y/n was growing just about as annoyed as he was. “Can I just come in?”

“I don’t know about that one, toots.” Richie made a clicking sound with his tongue. “Pops said I’m not allowed to let strangers in.”

“Richie, please, just let me in,” y/n seethed. She didn’t have time for his bullshit and quite frankly, he didn’t either. If Richie let his grades take another blow to the one-inch margin, his C would threaten to turn into a D. “Your dad called mine on Thursday… I’m here to… tutor… you.”

Richie noticed how her voice had lowered and he could tell she was just as ecstatic as him for their study session. Wordlessly, he stepped away from the front door, allowing y/n some space to walk in. His eyes inadvertently glued themselves to her backside, watching as her skirt’s pleats swayed against her hips and the rain’s water trail against her long legs; a sight he’d swallow at and feel himself grow semi-hard to.

If all the girls at Catholic school looked like y/n, he might just have to transfer because just one glance at her made Richie forget all about the reason for his tragic C that stood for Chemistry.

“Where are we studying?” y/n asked. Her eyes darted around the place like it was foreign. It was foreign. Her hands clutched the book bag she held onto tighter, anxious by the new atmosphere.

“Is my room okay?” Richie asked, already starting up the stairs. His tone had gone soft, like when you microwave butter. He almost felt bad for protesting against the idea of being tutored just a few short days ago.

“Yeah.” y/n followed him, making sure to leave an appropriate amount of space between the two bodies.

“Do you need a change of clothes?” Richie said, not trying to cover up the obviousness in his voice; that he was obviously looking at her covered chest each second she spent turned away from him; that he had an obvious hard-on that he hadn’t bother to conceal under his ridiculous corduroy pants.

“No,” y/n said with a bit of uncertainty. Sure, she was soaking wet from her hair to her toes, but she wasn’t about to borrow one of Richie Tozier’s ridiculous band-tees that would wear like a dress.

“What’s with the get-up, anyway?” Richie smirked. Before he sat down, he pulled out an extra seat for her. Usually, it would be used to discard his dirty clothes on. Luckily, Maggie Tozier had taken the liberty of cleaning up before their guest got here.

“Laundry day,” y/n sighed while sitting down her bag next to her. She brushed out her skirt as she sat down so it’d cover as much of her bare legs as fabric would sparingly allow. Her skirt was drenched, and she was sure it would leave the chair just the same as if she stood up any time soon.

“Don’t have to wear that thing tomorrow?” Richie couldn’t help but think about all the other girls who’d be wearing the same outfit on Monday. Of course, their blouses wouldn’t be overly exposing, but their legs would still be bare and long—longing for Richie’s stare if you catch a drift.

“Aren’t you failing something?” y/n snapped back.

Richie swallowed the rest of the words lingering in the back of his throat.

“I was thinking we start with the basics.” y/n bent down, searching for the green folder she had marked ‘Science’ in thick, permanent ink. Richie couldn’t help but steal another look at her figure—outlined by the white shirt that clung to it.

“Basics?” His voice cracked, but he was too caught up in her to care.

“Well, what do you need help with?”

“Nothing.” Richie scoffed, not letting some girl he barely knew deflate his ego.

“Then why am I here?” She countered. Her eyebrow raised, unimpressed, and her fingers started to drum anxiously against the wood of his desk.

“Right now, we’re going over stoichiometry,” Richie shrugged, not bothering to meet her eyes—her bright, keen eyes he’d find himself lost in if he weren’t careful. “It’s not the math part I need help on it’s the—”

“Concentration.”

“Yeah.” Richie let out a heavy sigh. He already knew what y/n looked like—beautiful, while water droplets kissed her neck that he itched to touch. It wouldn’t hurt to steal yet another glance, he thought, while turning towards her. “It’s like I can’t focus,” he said, finally making eye contact.

“And you need help with that?” She questioned. The familiar feeling of anticipation welled in the back of her throat but there was no telling why.

“I guess.” Richie’s eyes left hers to stare at the wall. The view was less impressive, but it let him form a cohesive thought.

“I think I know a way.” y/n’s demeanor had completely changed by now. Richie was about to mutter out a how or what the hell are you talking about but the words in his mind scrambled together like the eggs his mother made that morning when he felt her hand travel down to his knee.

y/n’s touch was light and delicate—almost nothing as it grazed against the fabric of his jeans. But it was there. He felt it, and if he didn’t, his imagination must’ve been pretty goddamn realistic for running at a hundred hertz a minute. Her thumb ran circles against the corded pattern making his breath hitch.

“Uh, what’cha doin’?” Richie’s eyebrow rose at the hand on his pants which was making its way to the zipper.

“Helping,” she insisted, “if you’re having trouble focusing, you’re probably stressed, right?” Richie could only nod. “So, this will help you unstress.” He gasped at the sound and sight of y/n undoing his zipper. His eyes widened and she found herself smiling at his movements from such little touch already.

Richie was quick to roll his jeans, and the underwear underneath, to his ankles. His eager length stood hard and erect against his stomach and if it weren’t for his lack of social awareness, he’d be embarrassed to be seen bare in front of a girl he just met.

y/n’s right hand—timid but daring—wrapped itself around the base of his cock, eliciting a groan from Richie’s now parted and perfectly pink lips.

Surprise wouldn’t even begin to describe the swirl of emotions that found themselves in the pit of Richie’s stomach and began to bubble in his throat—another groan. Though, as surprised as Richie was, he couldn’t help but feel a warm sense of pleasure and yearning for more as he harshly swallowed at the feeling of friction and tightness y/n managed to spring upon him in one firm jerk.

She was on her knees now, the feeling of hardwood against bare skin didn’t seem to faze her. All her attention was on Richie. The sound of unsteady breaths from above had y/n’s cheeks flushed and panties in a heat. The only cohesive thought in her mind was wanting to hear those pretty little noises coming from Richie’s pretty little mouth again.

y/n didn’t need a mirror to know her pupils were blown, the sight before her that she couldn’t quite look away from and the uncomfortable feeling between her legs was enough, letting her realize what she was doing. What was she doing? Her grip on his length loosened as she moved her hand up and down, allowing for enough space for her mouth when she connected her lips to his dick.

“God. You feel great, toots.” It only took a few motions for Richie to already come lax at the feeling of y/n’s mouth. He wished it were another part.

y/n chuckled to herself. Having this much power over a boy made her feel… confident. No guy at her school would give her the time of day, it seemed—not even Jeremy Fields. But Richie Tozier… Richie Tozier was practically falling apart at the sight of her and y/n loved that. Richie felt her pace around him speed up and y/n felt herself grinding on her palm to meet his same high. The sight of her alone was enough to have Richie on edge.

“Sugar, if you don’t stop I’m gonna—” His heavy pants were enough to cut him off, but y/n took her chance to interrupt further.

“—You’ll what?” She pulled apart from him, a string of saliva connecting them. Richie almost whimpered at the warm feeling of her mouth provided—gone.

“I’m gonna bust before I can take care of you,” he admitted somewhat bashfully. His face was red, and y/n couldn’t tell if it was from embarrassment or the fact that he had been worked up.

“Oh.” Back at her shy state, y/n ducked her head and felt her cheeks heat in a similar fashion to his. “Well, in that case…” y/n didn’t have to finish her sentence for Richie to get a grasp on what she was saying. She began to undo the buttons of the thin, white button up at an unbearably slow pace. She managed to peel the wet material that stuck to her skin gracefully even though she’d been itching to take it off as soon as she put it on.

“Wow.”

“Shut up,” y/n mumbled mindlessly, not daring to make eye contact. Part of her was embarrassed enough at the fact that she was on her knees for the boy she was supposed to teaching qualitative chemical reactions to. Her skirt was next to come off. The plaid fabric fell helplessly fell to the ground as soon as she unzipped it.

“I’m serious. You’re like… hot stuff, hot stuff,” Richie said as soon as she stood up, giving him a perfect view. Her underwear was a scalding red with embroidered flowers that decorated the side of her breasts and hipbone. The matching set was far from innocent, far from what Richie would imagine Catholic school girls to wear.

y/n didn’t say anything—her stomach too full of butterflies and a lump still caught in her throat. Richie could sense her nervousness and pulled her into him. To think, a girl he had met only thirty minutes ago was now engulfed in his arms and half-bare for him.

The rough pad of his thumb drew circles on her shoulder. The slow, sensual movements against her skin was electric and had the two riled up even more as Richie slotted his thigh in between hers for her to buck up against. The feeling of her clothed clit on lace as she dragged herself back and forth on his leg at an uneven pace was indescribable.

“Fuck.” It wasn’t unexpected that Richie broke the silence and occasional gasps. “You’re soaked… so… fuckin’ soaked.” He could feel the wetness from her panties that dripped onto his bare leg and he groaned at the thought that it was because of him.

y/n giggled but the sound of her breathy laughs in his ears didn’t last long as she pressed into him further and latched her lips onto his. It was like no other kiss he’s had before. As for y/n, she’d be ashamed to say it was her first kiss. That is, her first kiss where she felt something.

y/n swallowed the moan from Richie as their lips still locked and their tongues swept over each other.

“You’re like—”

“You are, too,” y/n breathed quickly, not bothering to hear the rest of the words. Her attention was now focused on him—or the lack of him inside her. She grabbed his throbbing length once again, taking barely any time to admire it. “Do you have any?”

“Yeah.” Richie swallowed. He opened the top left drawer of his desk, revealing a box of Trojans which he quickly took a foil packet from.

It was weird. Although y/n knew this was just a one time thing she couldn’t help but feel jealous as the small hairs on her neck stood to attention.

Effortlessly, Richie tore open the foil and slid on the condom. “Ready?”

y/n nodded and bit down on her cheek as she sunk down on him. Patiently, Richie waited for her to adjust to his size and a sign for him to move.

A quick kiss to his lips was it. It was different from the first. Swift, sweet, teasing. Richie wanted more. He wanted more as he thrust up into her and he wanted more as he felt y/n’s fingertips dig into his shoulders through the fabric of his shirt.

“Unfair that you have more clothes on,” y/n managed to speak through a whine. To which Richie opened his eyes and through hazy lids and lust-blown pupils he saw her panties that were pulled to the side as his dick met her entrance and the bra strap that was making its way down her arm.

Richie stifled a chuckle. “You want this off?” He gestured to the graphic tee that was basically draped over his slim figure.

“God, yes. Take a hint much?” She tugged weakly on the sleeve of his shirt and he pulled away for a second so he could remove it, revealing his smooth chest and delicious collarbone.

Another whine left y/n’s lips as he pulled her in closer again. His speed picked up as he bottoms out, reaching a spot no guy has ever found before. Her left hand his in his hair, gripping at his long locks that only a Rockstar would dare wear and her right hand is clutching his cheek—his freckle-sprayed cheek that relaxes under her soft hands and delicate fingers.

Richie’s hands, however, are in a much more intimate place he realizes as he moans yet again, this time at the feeling of his roots being pulled on. One is on her ass, keeping her from falling off, though it might be impossible seeing as how close the two are. The other is playing with her folds, using the same circular motions from earlier to coax her closer.

“You feel so good,” Richie says as his eyes roll back to his head. “Fuck.”

y/n hums. Her lips can’t help but curl into a smile once the words reach her ears. “I’m close,” she whispers and Richie nods in agreement.

It’s dirty and the total opposite of what Richie would expect from the girl who walked in his door a short hour ago, but they reach their highs together, while the filthiest noise Richie’s ever heard leaves y/n’s swollen lips. He watches her as she cums. Her hair is moussed and sweat shines across her furrowed brows. But Richie Tozier swears he hasn’t seen a prettier sight.

“Fuck, doll,” Richie says in amazement.

y/n’s still smiling as she opens her eyes, but she can’t help but be embarrassed at the same time.

“What?” The question is small, but there’s a certain weight on her shoulders that Richie notices.

“You’re hot.” He’s wearing a shit-eating grin and y/n wants to smack him right then and there. But she doesn’t. She only smiles back, quickly removes herself from him, and redresses herself with the same pace. Her shirt is only slightly less damp and slightly less uncomfortable, but it’ll do. y/n supposes she could just change into her pajamas once she got home. “What, don’t tell me our session’s over already,” Richie tries to joke.

“Sorry,” y/n sighs. Her backpack is already slung over her shoulder, she didn’t even need to ask Richie for help with her stuff.

“Hey, is this because…” Richie’s large palm finds a home on y/n’s shoulder which she tenses up at.

“No!” y/n’s barely able to choke it out. “But the session was, like, supposed to be an hour, you know? And I don’t want to overstay my welcome.” She’s back to her nervous self again.

“God.” Richie realizes what this is about now. “You’re not overstaying anything, toots. You can stay for dinner if you’d like,” he offers. “Hell, stay forever.”

y/n resists the urge to roll her eyes and opts for the dead skin on her lip instead. “I really have to go. Sorry, Rich.”

The last he sees is her half-smile from her all perfect lips before she slips out the door and into the rain again.

#richie tozier #richie tozier fanfiction #richie tozier imagine #richie tozier x reader #richie tozier smut #richie tozier fluff #richie tozier x reader smut #richie tozier x reader fluff #it stephen king #it 2017 #it 2019 #sorry i'm bad at writing smut

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sad-baddie001 · 3 years

Text

Aizawa: Kitty’s got claws

This was a request. Feel free to request.

Quirk: Neko-Neko : A mutation type quirk which includes cat ears, claws and a tail. Readers eyes change color depending on emotions, equipped with claws and a tail along with heightened stealth and agility.

Yn P.O.V

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.

My phone buzzed under my pillow causing me to stir lightly. A soft purr left my lips as I stretched. I hopped out of bed and turned off my alarm. Today is Friday, the last day of my first week at UA as a support corse teacher. Today was also special because the teachers are having a little party after school. I haven't met all of the teachers at UA high school but hopefully today will be my chance to get better aquatinted with everyone.

I strolled over to my bathroom to begin getting ready. I completed my morning routine before getting dressed. I put on my hero costume before having a quick breakfast and heading out. As I reached the school I began walking to my classroom, only to run into principle Nezu.

"Hey there principal Nezu." I smiled and waved at him as he walked the hall sipping from his tea cup.

"Well hello there ms (hero name)!" How are you?"

"Pretty nervous about tonight actually" I said with a nervous chuckle. "Oh? Why so nervous?"

"Well I haven't met all the teachers yet so the thought of meeting everyone at a party is pretty nerve racking."

"Aah, I understand. Have a good one ms. (Hero name)."

"You too." I entered the teachers lounge and began to put away my things at my desk. My good friend hound dog came into the teachers lounge and we greeted each other carrying on simple conversation. The teachers lounge intercom cut on stopping us in our little back and fourth.

"Good morning teachers, tonight social event will be held in meeting room A starting at 5 pm. See you there and have a wonderful day."

Small sighs and groans were heard going around before midnight spoke. "Alright, who told Nezu about our party?" I kept my head down and bit the inside of my lip now realizing what I had done. To be fair I didn't know it was supposed to be a secret. I heard a small growl coming from next to me as I tried desperately to not turn around. He knew it was me, we've known each other for far too long. He's the one who helped me land my job at UA. Knowing hound dog would spaz on me I decided to jump ahead of the situation. I stepped out from my desk and bowed continuously as I spoke.

"It was me everyone, I wasn't aware that the party was a secret. I apologize for my incompetence. I will make it up to all of you in any way that I can, I promise." There were some mumbles here and there, mainly about the tea Nezu brought but I turned back to my desk finished unpacking and headed to my classroom to start my day.

Time skip

Immediately after school I headed to my room on campus to start preparing goodies for the party to try and smooth things over. With only a few hours to have everything ready, in the lounge and have time to get ready I had to move quick. I made onigiri, mochi, coffee milk tea with boba, tea sandwiches and tea cookies. I even brought a couple apple sauce pouches and juice pouches. As I finished making things one by one and I transported everything to the meeting room with the help of my amazing student Mei Hatsume and her brilliant gadgets. I rushed back to my room to do some light cleaning and self touch ups before heading over to the party.

Not realizing how long I had taken, when I had arrived to the party most people were already there and enjoying the refreshments I made. There was tea also set out on the table that was barely touched. Not long after I showed up hound dog arrived. "Hey, I figure out how to make it up to everyone. I made refreshments, you should have some." He grumbled and we talked for a little before he told me to at least eat a little of what I made. After all the cooking I wasn't that hungry. Not wanting to hear the loud barking for disregarding what he suggested I went to the front to get a coffee milk tea. As I was pouring other people around the table grabbed other refreshments. Suddenly a loud voice rang through the room.

"Yo! Who made all these amazing snacks?!" The voice was unmistakable, present mic. The room continued its casual conversation so he blurted out again, this time even louder. "WHO MADE THESE DOPE SNACKS?!" Hound dog's growl could be heard across the room before he barked out. "(HERO NAME) DID YOU IDIOT, SHES RIGHT NEXT TO YOU AND ERASERHEAD!"

Suddenly all eyes were on me as Nezu approached me. "Oh ms. (Hero name), thank you for making these wonderful refreshments. They compliment my tea so well. You're fitting right in at UA. Have some of the tea, you may like it." He walked off and all conversation resumed. "The tea is good but it's always the same. Eventually you get tired of it." I turned my head to see eraserhead next to me.

"Thanks for the advice, I'm (hero name)." He let out a chuckle. "Yeah I heard. Nice to meet you." He grabbed a cup of boba and a juice box before walking off. I stood around introducing myself to a few people here and there. Eventually I was in a corner drinking my boba and just watching. Getting to the bottom of my drink I went for the last juice box only to collide hands with someone else. I looked up to see eraser again. I chuckled as I placed my hand on the juice box. "Sorry, but you're not getting the last juice box."

"Tch. I think I am." His voice was gruff as he also grabbed the juice box. I looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "Are you willing to fight for it?"

Before I knew it eraser and I had snuck off to the training arena with the juice box to find out who would be getting it. We sat down the juice box on the bleachers and moved down to the city area of the training arena.

"First one to take down the other and reach the gate gets the juice box. Agreed? And since you're pretty well known and I'm aware of your quirk I'll at least tell you the name of mine." He sneered lightly under his breath causing me to glance up at him. "The name of my quirk is neko- neko, pretty self explanatory, no? So how about we get started?" I took my stance and so did he. "Sounds pretty rational to me."

My ears twitched as he took his stance. My tail curled as my eyes changed from black to green. "Then let's begin." I immediately jumped as high as I could into the air dropping down into an ally. Hearing the sound of his infamous scarf following behind me I took off sprinting. I have to stay out of his line of vision. Hiding under one of the nearby buildings I watched him carefully. His demeanor calm almost as if this wasn't a challenge. He walked slowly through the ally his hair suddenly went up. He's using his quirk. His scarf went flying through the air followed by him. He landed on top of a light post with his scarf wrapped loosely around him.

"I'm going to get that last juice box." He said as his hair stayed on end. But why? Why is continually using his quirk? It has to be draining, but why is he doing it?

"Oh come on? You think so?" I stalked around the arena as I spoke. "Come on man, there's apple sauces left too. Did you even try them?"

"I did, and they were quite enjoyable but I can't live without my juice boxes." I creeped closer and closer toward him as I spoke. "Well I hate to break it to you, but you may have to because I don't play fair." I jumped up behind him and wrapped my tail around his eyes as my claws grabbed onto him. I stood up and leaned back causing us both to fall toward the ground. Immediately using his scarf he wrapped it around the top of a high buildings. I sprinted up his scarf connected to the building. "I figured you out." I yanked on his scarf as hard as I could to send him flying as I pounced over toward the juice box. "Your quirk doesn't work on genetic mutations." Grabbing the juice box with my tail I poked the straw through and took a sip.

I turned back around to eraser gathering his scarf with his quirk. A long tear was visable on his scarf. I immediately jumped down made my way to eraser. "I am very sorry, my deepest apologies. I didn't mean to damage your scarf, I should have filed down my claws. Please accept the juice box and my sincerest apologies." I frantically apologized as I held out the juice box to him with my tail. A chuckle left his lips as he gently touched my tail and pushed the juice box back towards me. "It's fine, I'm actually quite impressed. Keep the juice box, you won it fair and square." He turned to walk out, speaking before he walked away. "Your coffee boba is one of the best I’ve had by the way. We're sparring for that next."

He disappeared as I took a sip of the juice box barely able to contain my excitement and hold back my smile. I just got to spar with THE eraser head.

Two days later

It was now monday and I was headed to the school. Reaching the teachers lounge right before the bell rang I saw eraser on his was out. I stopped him and spoke. "I know you don't like being late to class but I just wanted to give you this really quickly. Again, I am very sorry." I handed him the box in my hands as he slowly opened it. His slow sleepy motions along with his tired eyes went from looking drained to drained and cheerful— almost.

"You have to lift the scarf, theirs something else under it. He sat the box down and pulled out the new scarf I made for him over the weekend with my knowledge of support gear. He sat the scarf to the side and immediately picked up one of the 12 juice boxes I had given him. "Here let me help." I grabbed the old torn scarf from around his neck with my tail and set it to the side. Finally seeing his full face for more than a moment, I didn't let my eyes linger too long. Picking up the scarf with my freshly filed claws I wrapped it around his head and stepped back.

"I hope you like it, I made a few modifications but I'll let you figure those out on your own. Let me know if there's any problems or anything I can do eraser head." I walked toward my desk and placed my things down. "Sparring session after school to see who pay for drinks tonight. Training arena 5pm sharp. Don't be late." He began walking out with the box in hand as my face flushed. He stopped on his way out and turned to me. "Thank you (yn)." He stepped out and I had an internal excitement almost too much to contain. And to think, all this was for a juice box.

#mha x reader #mha imagines #aizawa x reader #aizawa x y/n #shoto aizawa #aizawa sensei #my hero academia aizawa #mr aizawa #my hero fanfic #my hero academia #my hero academy fanfiction #my hero x y/n #my hero x reader

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carnationcreation · 3 years

Text

Dream buddy (Adam Park x reader)

✌🏻Masterlist Taglist, Requests, and Works in progress!

Please check bio to see if requests are open before sending any in!

Request: (wattpad @pezzbosch) Can you please write an imagine of Adam being worried about his crush because she’s going through something personal that she won’t talk about? And the crush is just super scattered all the time and losing focus in almost everything she does until someone finally gets her to talk about what’s going on?

Prompt/summary: Adam goes a little overboard worrying about his crush

Word Count: 1,502

Authors note: (Ready Now by dodie is the vibe for this) Thanks so much for your request bb! If y’all haven’t read @pezzbosch ‘s fanfic Twenty Four Seven then I totally recommend to go check that out of you’re a power rangers fan :)

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

Adam wished he’d noticed it sooner.

He should’ve known the first day she turned down going to Earnies. She would never turn down a chance to get her favorite mini tacos on a normal day, especially after a day she had gym class.

He just wished he would’ve noticed her pushing them away sooner.

The first time he got the hint something was wrong was the Monday morning back from spring break. She showed up to school tired and almost fell asleep during first block pre-calculus. (Y/n) might not enjoy that class that much but she never got caught sleeping in class, ever.

He watched her pull an energy drink out of her bag and drink almost half of it in a few gulps.

“Woah,” Adam said, pulling the drink away, “Slow down there. You don’t want to drink it all in one go.”

“Adam, I am so tired I will fight you for that drink.”

He rolled his eyes, “If you’re that tired you wouldn’t last more than a few seconds. Why are you drinking this? You hate energy drinks.”

“I just… didn’t get that much sleep last night,” (Y/n) sighed.

Adam placed the can back on the desk, “I’m sorry, why couldn’t you sleep?”

“Just couldn’t,” she said, the end of class bell rang and (Y/n) quickly gathered her things, “See ya in gym!”

He really started to worry when she didn’t show up for their first class the next day. He was so used to seeing her bright smile when he would sit down next to her that today felt like the world was a little duller. Class seemed to roll by slowly as he stared at the clock and the door waiting for her to come in, but she never did.

Lunch time came and there was still no sign of her. As he sat down next to Rocky and Tommy they noticed his mood had shifted a lot since they saw him yesterday.

“You okay Adam?” Tommy said.

“Have either of you seen (Y/n)?”

“No, we haven’t seen your girlfriend,” Rocky said, causing Adam’s eyes to go wide.

“She- she’s not my girlfriend guys,” he said shyly.

“You guys sure act like it.”

Adam slapped Rocky’s fork out of his hand with his own, “We’re not dating. I just haven’t seen her all morning and I’m starting to worry.”

“Yeah cause you have a big fat crush on her,” Rocky grinned.

“Stop it Rocky,” Tommy sighed.

“Fine,” Rocky huffed and picked his fork back up from the tray.

“Anyways, we haven’t seen (Y/n) since gym class yesterday,” Tommy said.

“I might stop by her house after school to check on her, it’s not like her to miss class and not tell me.”

“Yeah cause she has a big fat crush on you,” Rocky muttered.

“Rocky!”

“What?! It’s true!”

Adam sighed, “She doesn’t have a crush on me.”

Rocky rolled his eyes, “Well then why is she walking over here first instead of to Kat and Tanya?”

Adam turned around quickly and spotted the girl walking towards the group of boys, he smiled widely as she sat down beside him.

“What’s with the energy drink (Y/n)?” Rocky asked.

“What? Oh- I… stayed up late to finish a project.”

Adam looked at her confused, “We don’t have any projects in our classes, is it for your English class?”

“Uh, yeah,” she said with a fake smile.

“Oh, okay,” Adam said. He knew she was lying, but he was hurt that she felt like she had to.

By the weekend (Y/n) seemed to be back to normal. She was on time for classes again and went to hang out at Earnies. Yet there was still something… weird going on.

Even though she was her usual cheery sunshine self, Adam noticed when the others were talking amongst themselves she would look off with an almost blank look on her face. When she would talk her sentences would trail off or not make sense completely. The others pretended they didn’t notice but it was starting to become clear that something was wrong with their friend.

Adam decided he needed to know what was going on.

He got to school early enough so that he could catch (Y/n) at her locker. As he walked through the halls he thought of a million different answers he might get from his friend, or crush really. He’d always been infatuated with her since she sat next to him in Chemistry last year, the ball of sunshine in the class.

As he rounded the corner he saw (Y/n) quickly shove a white bottle into her locker before shutting it and shouldering her bag.

“What was that?” he said, she jumped slightly and spun around.

“Adam!” she said, “Geeze you scared me. What’s up?”

“What’d you put in your locker?” he said.

“Oh just my binder.”

“It looked like a bottle-”

“Adam we really need to get to class,” (Y/n) said.

“Why are you lying to me?”

She sighed, “I’m not.”

“What was in the bottle?” he said, the firmness in his tone made her look down to the floor.

“I- um,” she tried to speak but the tears that formed in her eyes stopped her.

“(Y/n),” Adam said gently, placing his hand on her shoulder, “you can tell me anything.”

She turned the lock on her locker and opened it, and sitting on the top shelf was a pristine looking white bottle full of caffeine pills.

“(Y/n)-”

Tears were falling down her face and he pulled her into a hug.

“I’m sorry,” she sobbed.

“There’s nothing for you to be sorry about,” he said, rubbing circles into her back.

“I just- there’s these dreams, well, nightmares I keep having. I wake up panicking but I’ll sit and think and think about it but I just can’t remember it. How am I supposed to stop them when I can’t remember them?”

“I’m sure all that caffeine isn’t helping. Those aren’t good for you (Y/n).”

“I know I know, but it’s better than falling asleep in class.”

“I know, but nothing can replace sleep,” Adam said. He pulled away to gently brush some of her hair back, “I think I have an idea.”

Adam ended up dragging her out of school and to his car, from there they drove to the mall in town.

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see,” Adam said.

The mall wasn’t that busy considering it was an early morning on a weekday. Adam lead her by the hand through the mall to the back where the toy store stood. (Y/n)’s eyes went wide with excitement before looking at him with a puzzled look.

“We’re gonna get you a dream buddy.”

“A what?”

“A dream buddy, to bring you some sweet dreams.”

(Y/n) giggled and pulled him into the store. Lining the walls were various toys and figures but towards the back were giant bins of different kinds of stuffed animals of different shapes and sizes.

“What about this one?” Adam said, holding up an elephant half as big as him.

“I think that’s a little big, don’t you think?” she giggled.

“Hmmm.... maybe.”

He dug through the bins a little more, “This one?”

It was a frog made out of a shiny fabric material.

“Um… I don’t really like the frog.”

Adam sighed, “No one ever does.”

(Y/n) dug through the other bin for a while, carefully looking over each animal. Finally she reached the bottom and gasped out.

“This one!”

She pulled out the stuffed figure to show it to him. It was a stuffed rabbit with light brown fur and big floppy ears.

“What do you think?” she asked.

Adam smiled, “I think it looks like a great dream buddy.”

The next day when Adam walked into class, (Y/n) smiled at him.

It wasn’t fake, or tired looking. It was the same smile that made his heart flutter since the first time they met.

Class went by as usual until the bell for lunch finally rang, (Y/n) grabbed Adam’s hand and led him in the opposite direction from the cafeteria.

“Where are we going?” he said.

(Y/n) didn’t answer until she opened her locker. She pulled out the same rabbit they bought yesterday. Today it had a red heart with the letter “A” sewn onto the paw.

“I named her Sunny,” she smiled.

“I guess it helped last night?” he asked.

“Amazingly. Thank you so much Adam,” she said, pulling him into a hug.

He smiled, “I’m just glad I got my sunshine girl back.”

She pulled back but kept her arms locked around his neck. Her smile gave him butterflies, but when she leaned in to press a kiss to his cheek his heart almost stopped. She giggled at his wide eyes, “I can’t be a sunshine girl without my sky guy.”

“Sky guy?”

“Yup.”

He chuckled.

“Because there’s nowhere else I'd rather be.”

It was his chance to lean in, but this time it was a sweet kiss on her lips.

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

*If you signed up for my taglist but don’t see your name please message me!

Taglist:

@thebookwormlife @talksoprettyjjx @coolreallyfuzzystudentuniverse @igotabadfeelingabouteverything @larrystylinson-sus @lovesanimals @aunicornmademedoit @thexhotmess @ssprayberrythings @registerednursejackie @nicolewithasoul @homealone200 @hemmingsness @persephonequeenofthedead @bookfrog242 @itz-jas @smol-book-nerd @thewifeofhades @igotissuesmister @carnations-red @disgustedchild

#Power Rangers #power rangers imagine #adam park #adam park imagine #Mighty Morphin Power Rangers #mighty morphin power rangers imagine #adam park x reader #power rangers zeo #power rangers zeo imagine #rocky desantos #tommy oliver

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kunstnurii · 3 years

Text

hwang in yeop x gn!reader

pairing : hwang in yeop and gender neutral!reader

warnings : none

genre : fluff, comedy

word count : 1k

song recommendation : sangsu station - The Black Skirts

summary : you’re just a college student trying to pay the rent, you didn’t expect to spill coffee on a (very handsome) stranger while working.

disclaimer : i am not using capitalised letters on purpose. it’s my ~aesthetic~

it’s currently 7:46 a.m and you already want to disappear, maybe dig a hole right then and there and bury yourself in it. the handsome stranger with expensive looking clothes (now drenched in his coffee order) in front of you is the exact cause of this very familiar feeling (it’s,,,, really not the first time you’re experiencing public embarrassment).

you wouldn’t really call yourself a clumsy person, you just have a talent at not being very good at coordinating your limbs, whether it’d be hitting your thigh at the corner of the desk in class when you’re trying to rush out of class, hitting your head on that damned cupboard every time you cook or breaking any object you were holding. it’s really not clumsiness, just a lack of coordination.

anyways, this fine monday morning started out perfectly, you weren’t late to work, you actually don’t have any assignment missing or undone as you managed to focus on doing them over the weekend, and midterms don’t start until another two months so you don’t have the stress dawning on you (yet). you also didn’t forget your work attire or hairband, everything was going perfectly smooth. you managed to fix a few customers’ orders without making a mess either. that is, until you tripped on your undone shoelace when trying to give this (handsome) customer’s iced americano.

so here you are, trying to wipe off the stain of coffee off of this very handsome person’s very expensive looking beige sweatshirt (is that,, the prada logo?) while the man keeps on repeating that it’s fine, and just a redo of his order would be fine! because really, he’s also very socially awkward and not used to female contact outside of his job. besides, it was cold coffee, it’s not like he got burned or anything.

“i’m really sorry…!” you repeat for the umpteenth time in the span of 10 minutes. mainly from the fact that you were sure the hoodie cost more than you’ll ever be able to afford, even if you worked full-time.

“don’t worry about it, my mom has a good method for coffee stains! besides i have time this morning as i don’t have any schedule, i was about to go home anyways.” he smiles (was this heaven?) at you before removing the wet tissue from his chest and throwing it to the trash.

as you go back to completing his order feeling a very little less guilty, he makes use of that time to study you. ‘it’s weird.’ he thinks, you have seen him from up close and didn’t recognize him, he assumed you would’ve gasped and whimper ‘hwang in yeop…’ in surprise when you saw his face but you didn’t (you truly were just focused on making that stain go away). ‘maybe she’s not into dramas’ he assumes, considering the project he recently worked on gave him the most recognition. he watches you make his coffee order again and notices how cute the apron makes you look. he also now comes to realise that you are, in fact, a foreigner. he didn’t get to look at your face when you were wiping the stain, and your korean really didn’t make him question your nationality, and he assumed you were probably from a different region, as the only problem you had speaking was the accentuation of words.

after you give him his coffee, he decides that this is a one in a lifetime opportunity, he doesn’t have any schedule, you’re the first foreigner he’s seen in a job usually taken by natives, and most importantly, your voice made him blush a little at how soothing it sounded to him.

“i take back my words. this isn’t okay; i want you to repay me for staining my hoodie.” smooth. very smooth. he curses innerly as he realises you’re probably going to panic.

‘i... also assumed so. how much would it cost to buy you a new one?” you sigh defeated as you also thought he was letting you off too easily, specially for a hoodie that looks more expensive than you if you were to sell organs.

“i don’t want money actually.” now, in yeop isn’t the type to say stupid stuff that easily. but there’s just something about him this early in the morning, that makes him say stuff either very insensitive, or very inappropriate. specially as you now probably assume he wants your body.

“i..” you were speechless. was it that your brain was telling you he wants your body? or your low self-esteem refusing to admit your body is valuable? you truly weren’t following what he meant.

“that sounded very inappropriate. i apologize. i just meant to ask for your number in exchange..?” he scrunches his nose in awkwardness.

uh. oh. that. he meant that?

“why…?” you were now just utterly confused as to why this handsome stranger wanted your number.

“i just thought you’d be fascinating to talk to, it’s my first time talking to a foreigner in korean, and them being as fluent if not better than me at it. also because you look cute in that apron…” you almost didn’t hear the last part, if it weren’t for the silence of a monday morning, where you barely get customers after 8 a.m until 11 a.m.

“oh.” was all that left your mouth as you truly didn’t expect someone to find you cute. maybe friendly? but cute? never heard it before.

he sighs, apologising for the absurd request and turns to leave saying that it really is fine for the hoodie.

“give me your phone!” you yell a little too loud, mainly because you found it weirdly comforting that someone could find you fascinating. he smiles shyly as he gets it out to give it to you, and it’s only after you ask for his name to input as a contact that you freeze. it was him. the actor your friend kept telling you about. you couldn’t believe it.

“i have to go back home to change but i’ll wait for your message!” he says as he rushes out of the shop while new customers enter.

you had just given your number to the handsome actor whom had given everyone second lead syndrome in his most recent work. and it was because he found you fascinating and cute.

what a morning.

#kpop imagines #kpop #imagines #scenarios #scenario #kpop scenarios #kactorsscenarios #kactor #kactorsimagines #kactors #hwang in yeop #hwanginyeopimagine #hwanginyeopscenario #i love this man #help #he's such a cute puppy

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stillbandofbrothersthirsty · 3 years

Text

As Far As Friends Go

Chapter 10 (Chapter 1; Chapter 2; Chapter 3; Chapter 4; Chapter 5; Chapter 6; Chapter 7; Chapter 8; Chapter 9)

Nixon - April 1944

There was a fresh energy about Emily, a lightness in her step that had never been there before. Nixon first noticed it that Monday morning when she trotted into the intelligence room with a box of what looked like handicraft materials.

“Good morning,” she said in a sing-song voice. Her smile seemed brighter against her red lips.

“‘Morning,” Nixon responded. Emily looked particularly nice that day, Nixon noted. Her hair seemed bouncier, shinier, and her legs looked as nice as ever in those black heels and nylons. This was all objectively speaking of course. She was a new woman and her renewed energy showed magnetically. Nixon wasn’t the only one to notice either; he didn’t miss the creeping eyes of other staff members doing their best to sneak a glance at Emily.

“Nix,” the voice of Dick Winters interrupted his train of thought. Nixon dropped the report he was meant to be reading and looked up at his lean, copper haired friend.

“What?”

“We’re both needed in Colonel Sink’s office.”

“Right,” Nixon stood up from his desk, his chair shifting loudly behind him.

The remainder of the day passed in monotonous agony as Nixon was pulled from one meeting to another to trainings and back again with only quick trips back to the intelligence office to grab a file or notes. At each brief return, Nixon found Emily poised at her desk, dead focused on the slowly growing stack of aerial photos on her desk. Curiosity lined with envy poked at him. She seemed so invested in what she was doing surely it was more interesting than what he had been doing all day. He felt like a carrier pigeon bringing information and requests back and forth between intelligence staff, officers, and the war department. Where was the challenge in that?

By the time evening came all Nixon wanted was to drop into bed with a drink. He had promised Welsh that he would meet him for a drink, a promise he now regretted making. The man was quartered at a house in town and it was far too easy for him to slip away to the pub, and since Nixon had privileges that the enlisted men didn’t (and because Winters didn’t drink), Welsh often invited Nixon to be his casual drinking buddy. Nixon didn’t have the same energy for the pub crowds as Welsh did. On more than one occasion he stood his friend up, and this evening was looking like it was about to be one of those times.

Nixon slumped down onto the twin bed in his tight box room and that was it, he wasn’t getting up. He lay there, head barely propped up on the pillow, lacking the energy to even pull his boots off. This wasn’t the same exhaustion he had felt during his training at Toccoa. His body was strong, in fact it felt over-rested, restless. He found himself wishing for that physical fatigue he had once known. Things had grown stale for him at Aldbourne. Generally speaking, he enjoyed the work and he did it well. But recently Nixon felt under stimulated.

Things in his personal life had also become stagnant. His letters home were predictable and polite. He wasn’t lacking in fraternity camaraderie thanks to his friendships with Winters and Welsh and now Emily. He fully considered her a friend, and one he was grateful to know. Yet, Nixon felt himself wanting since the drama of their strained association had ended.

With combat on the horizon, he was conscious of not jinxing the relative peace he was experiencing. But a part of him, deep down, feared his own potential recklessness. He knew himself well enough to suspect that he may just do something that his rational self would regret later if this boredom continued.

Perhaps he should go out for that drink with Welsh, at least for the opportunity to burn off some frustrated energy. Barely lifting his head from the pillow, Nixon tipped a bit of liquor from his flask down his throat as he debated with himself.

His thoughts were interrupted by the gentlest knock at his door. Nixon lifted his head in surprise, he wasn’t expecting anyone.

“Lew? You in there?” A voice murmured through the wooden door.

“Yeah,” Nixon whispered louder back, “come in,” he said as an afterthought.

Slowly, the door was eased open and Emily slipped quickly inside. She was dressed in slacks and a dark blouse tied up loosely around her waist. Although it was late evening and her face looked clean of makeup she still sported her bold red lipstick. She grinned naughtily, obviously feeling rebellious for being in his room at such an hour.

“Emily?” Nixon couldn’t say he wasn’t a little surprised, “what’re you doing here?”

From behind her back Emily produced an open bottle of red wine and a deck of playing cards.

“What do you say?” she smiled charmingly, “up for a little gin?” 

Nixon raised an eyebrow, “I hope you mean the game and not that you have gin in that stoppered bottle of yours.”

  “Don’t be silly! Do you mind?” Emily flopped down on the foot of his bed without waiting for permission. “I’m afraid the wine won’t be up to your usual standard. If I’m being completely honest, it wasn’t very expensive.”

“You always assume me a snob.” Nixon took the bottle from her to check out the label.

“Well, you are kind of a snob. Vat 69 exclusively?”  

“I drink beer.”

“As a supporting act,” Emily said.

Nixon chuckled and handed the bottle back to her, “you don’t know much about whiskey do you?”

“See! That’s something a snob would say!”

“I could be worse.”

“True,” Emily conceded, “you’re a snob but at least you’re not condescending. I’ve met a few guys like that.”

“Notre Dame men?”

“Harvard, I’ve recently met them.”

“Good thing I went to Yale.”

“Oh yes, good thing!” Emily teased.

“Anyways,” Nixon continued, “you may be surprised to know that Vat 69 isn’t the smoothest of whiskeys. Just happens to be my personal preference.”  

Emily eyed him, he could see that she wanted to say something but was holding back.

  “What?” he pried.

“Nothing!” Her voice clearly revealed she didn’t actually mean nothing.

“Tell me.”

Emily chewed on her lip then smiled hesitantly, “do all alcoholics have preferences?”  

Nixon rolled his eyes, “I’m only an alcoholic if it becomes a problem.”

“If?” Emily wrestled the cork from her wine bottle.

 “Has my work performance been slipping, Miss Rooney? Do you have some feedback you would like to offer?”

Emily took a swig from the bottle. Nixon could see the tint of ox blood red blossom between her cherry lips before she swallowed. “Not at all Captain.”   

Nixon’s mouth twisted in distaste and he gestured for her to pass the bottle. She took another drink before handing it over, “actually,” she said smacking her lips, “I did have a question - or actually something I wanted to share - from when I was looking over a few of those surveillance pictures. I noticed that there was this hedge, or like fence, or something in a place that isn’t showing up on the topographers’ maps. I think that may change or impact whatever’s in the works.”

Nixon nodded thoughtfully, “okay, good to know. We can go over it in more detail tomorrow or next time we’re both in the office. But enough shop talk, why are you here again?”  

Emily held up the deck of cards triumphantly, “gin! Want to play? Or am I interrupting plans?” she asked suddenly timid.

Nixon thought about Welsh at the pub. Eh, he probably made some new buddies to drink with, Nixon wasn’t worried. He still felt tired but looking at Emily perched on the end of his bed, he wasn’t about to kick her out. It’s not like he would be sleeping if she left anyways. The most tragic irony of his current state was that his restless exhaustion had made an insomniac out of him.

“Not at all, let’s play.”

 Light seemed to radiate off of her smile in the dimmed room. She tucked her legs under her and dealt the cards. Nixon took another drink of wine, feeling his frustration abate, at least for the night.

Nixon’s workload continued to increase over the next couple of days. He was run ragged by a laundry list of tasks. Although the tasks felt menial, there was the sensation that things were coming to a head. He had known that something big was in the works for a while now. Since he handed those first photos over to Emily he was prepared for what was most likely their invasion of the continent. Finally, it seemed as if it was going to happen.

The intelligence office had been instructed to begin constructing sand tables; miniature, but lifelike maps of the terrain where the allies intended to invade. In a meeting with the higher-ups, Nixon had been instructed not to divulge the location for the impending invasion to anyone. The point of invasion was on a need-to-know basis. The sand tables could be constructed based off of the provided information without having to reveal the actual location. According to Colonel Sink, Emily and other S-2s were to simply be artists for the time being.

Nixon had barely found the time to relay construction instructions to Emily before he was whisked off to another meeting. Ergo, he hadn’t found the time to review the issue she had brought up to him the other night; an inconsistency with the aerial photos and topographical maps.

“Sir,” Emily stood up from her desk when he ducked in to visit his desk one day, “I need to talk to you.”

 Nixon ignored her, focused on his task. He was only there to collect some reports.

“Nixon, sir,” Emily skittered over to his desk. “Sir, I need to show you these photos I pieced together. Remember? I mentioned the other night-,”

“Not now Emily,” Nixon grumbled as he rifled through his papers.

 “Nixon, please it’s important. I think you should know before you proceed any further with whatever is being planned.”

“You can show me later.”

“I could, yes sir, but I think you should know that the topographical maps may not be completely accurate. They’ll need to be altered which means any strategic planning may need changing which I would hate for everyone to have to revise. It would be better to start with the correct information-,”

“Emily! Please!” Nixon finally found the reports he was after. He exited the room quickly with Emily on his heels, her black pumps tip-tapping irritatingly across the wood and carpets of the manor.

“Lewis, I wanted to show you days ago, take a look at these, really quick,” she stuffed the photos under his chin. Nixon snatched them out of her hand exasperatedly, “what?” he demanded.

She was struggling slightly to keep pace with him but managed to point out a row of hedges, thick and wide, that bordered the far right of one photo and the far left of another. Side by side, the photos formed a clear picture. If Emily hadn’t pointed out the hedge, Nixon may have assumed that the dense shrubbery was blurred photo ink.

“Where is this?” 

“It appears to be a large hedgerow right near Sainte-Marie-du-Mont. In fact, it appears to be one of the largest in the area. Sir, it’s not on the topographers’ maps and in my opinion a hedgerow of this size should be included on those maps. It could offer strategic cover for almost the whole battalion. Even possibly an opportune place to set up a rendezvous point? Assuming the Germans aren’t encroaching on that position.” Emily’s voice didn’t waver. She was confident in her work.

“How do you know this is Sainte-Marie-du-Mont?” Nixon kept his voice neutral. Of course he knew that Operation Overlord intended to drop the Airborne into Normandy, but Emily shouldn’t have been the wiser.

Emily returned his suspicious gaze with an emotionless one. There was no hint as to how she discovered the intended invasion point. “I know my maps, sir,” she said.

Nixon couldn’t help the corner of his mouth turning up slightly. “Thanks for sharing this with me, Miss Rooney. Nice work. I’ll be sure to pass the information along.”

#band of brothers #hbo band of brothers #lewis nixon #lewis nixon x oc #fanfiction #original character #oc #as far as friends go #harry welsh #dick winters #winnix

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idk-maybe-i-did-it · 3 years

Text

Hidden- Harry Potter x Reader

Tis be a request by @missmulti it’s a tad trashier than not but I hope you like it.

!Non Voldy A/U!

Warnings: Implied Abuse, Implied sexual inter course, light cursing

Les Start:

Y/n L/n, the Slytherin who he fled from. Whereas the boy fled purposely towards Malfoy he deliberately fled from her.

Because not only did he feel intimidated by her, he also felt threatened by her mere presence as well.

Y/n was a girl who wasn’t afraid to speak her mind and she certainly wasn’t afraid to be upfront about the way she wanted to act. So Harry hoped he wasn’t the only one who felt intimidated by the girl.

———————————————————————

As Harry sat down next Ron in Transfiguration that Monday morning he noted how Professor McGonagall looked exceptionally sly that morning.

He hadn’t realized that he would have to sit next to Y/n L/n for the semesters entirety until she started talking to him about their class work. At first he didn’t say much to her for fear that she would prejudice him for being half-blood. Yet, when she started talking with him he could sense kindness in her voice and he trudged towards it.

Turns out Y/n wasn’t a stuck-up prejudiced bastard. She had been nothing but kind to him and his friends and he soon found himself yearning for her in his other classes, in the hallways, before he went to bed and when he woke up in the mornings.

Ron suspected him, Hermione already knew and Ginny pointed out to him that she lived onto a few blocks away from him.

Harry had to thank Ginny for that piece of information and just had to ask Y/n to confirm. Of course Ginny had been correct in her accusation and Harry soon figured out that Y/n had been treated worse by the Slytherins in her non-prejudiced state than he’d come to realize.

Alas, the summer had come nearer and Harry was forced to bid the girl farewell as he left the platform with his mum, dad and Sirius.

James came to notice that his son had been sending more letters than normal and went to find the bottom of it.

Harry was merely sit by his desk, writing another letter to Y/n, when he heard a knock by his door and turned abruptly in his chair to see his father leaning against the doors doorframe. James nodded at Harry and folded his arms.

“ May I come in Harry?”

The boy immediately responded by nodding his head and James moved inside the small room of Harry’s, gently shutting the door behind himself and setting on the edge of his bed, next his desk.

James folded his arms and leaned back to look at Harry. “ So, who’ve you been talking to so much recently? Because I know it hasn’t been Ron or Hermione, they don’t talk this much. And by the looks of your face whenever a letter comes in I’d bet it’s a girl.”

Harry’s face flushed and he stumbled over words as they tried to spew his mouth. James laughed and clapped Harry on the shoulder. “ Okay so I know it’s a female now, no bidding it Harry. Who is she? Does she look nice?”

Harry’s face paled and he swallowed the lump in his throat at his father’s question. The boy reached back and awkwardly scratched the back of his neck.

“ W- Well yeah, she’s good looking...”

James’ face lost the playful smirk and he noticed the tension in Harry’s voice. The man leaned forward and gave him a serious look, his voice steely.

“ Harry you never answered my other question, who is she? What’s her name? What house is she in? Who’re her parents?”

Harry awkwardly let out a breath and looked the other direction,

“ She’s a L/n.”

James Immediately paused at the boy’s tone and the name that caught on his tongue. Soon enough though, James snapped out of it and abruptly stood, moving out of the room and into their sitting-room where he found Sirius and Lily talking.

“ He’s friends with the L/n’s kid.”

The other two’s conversation paused at James’s disruption and Sirius slowly stood. “ The girl he keeps getting letters from, she’s a L/n?”

Sirius’ voice was hesitant and his posture was rigid.

__________________________________________

Dear Harry,

I’m sorry to hear your parents don’t approve of my presence however I am rather glad to hear that they’ve allowed me to come and visit you sometime.

I terribly miss our conversations that ended in ice-cream sessions on the kitchen floor at three a.m. though. Maybe your parents might let us eat some ice-cream while I’m over. And I’m sorry to say my parents don’t approve of our friendship either.

They’ve been ignoring me more than normal lately and mum even forgot to make me a plate last night at dinner. My brother snuck me some food under my door after that because dad locked me in again.

See you tomorrow!

Love,

Y/n.

Harry smiled at her letter and Sirius watched as his face brightened from his place from where he sat at the table. Remus elbowed James at his disapproving scowl and Sirius nodded at James as he left to go after Harry when he began upstairs to his bedroom.

Harry went to close his bedroom door when Sirius walked in and sat next him by the bed.

“ You love her don’t you Harry?”

The boy jumped back slightly in surprise at his question before he timidly nodded. “ Yeah, I don’t think dad wants me to though, he thinks that just because she’s in Slytherin and that she’s a L/n that she’s an arse who hates all blood types but pure.”

Sirius placed his elbows on his knees and leaned forward. “ Nah he doesn’t Harry. Your dad just wants to keep you safe and the L/n’s would only bring you harm.”

Harry quickly shook his head.

“ Y/n isn’t like them, she’s nice and she’s funny and kind and she’s an entirely different type of brilliant. She doesn’t even care about blood-status and you don’t even know how many times I’ve seen her hex people who’ve picked on kids with lower status.”

Sirius nodded at Harry. “ I know that. I’m guessing that her family doesn’t take well to you two’s friendship?”

Sirius nodded towards the letter in Harry’s hand and he motioned towards the stack of letters she’d sent to him so far.

“ Well, no, not really. I mean, they already ignored her a lot because she didn’t like the pureblood mania and Y/n says that after figuring out about us talking they’d even started to lock her in her room for days at a time and forget to feed her sometimes too.”

James, Lily and Remus stood from their positions by Harry’s door as Sirius frowned at the words spilling out of Harry’s mouth.

———————————————————————

Harry sat on the porch-swing of his home the next day, patiently waiting for Sirius to arrive back on his motorcycle with Y/n.

Sirius pulled up to the adress he’d been given and had to sigh. This was the same neighborhood, the same bloody neighborhood he used to go to as a kid when his mum made them attend balls. However, he wasn’t left waiting for long because soon a h/c girl about Harry’s age stepped out of the house with a backpack slung over her shoulder, red mark on her face.

Sirius was surprised to see her in muggle clothing when she walked nearer to him.

“ Won’t your mum make you change into ‘proper’ attire? If I remember how M/n acts correctly then I’m sure she would’ve made you dress in a black skirt with a green shirt.”

Sirius gave the girl an inquiring look when she shook her head. The girls next words were full of malice. “ Nah you’re right there. She just doesn’t give two damns about what I wear s’long as I dress the right way in public and don’t speak out.”

Sirius nodded his head to the girl and kept a frown on his face as they began to walk where he’d left the motorcycle. As they sat down on it and he passed her a helmet the man got a clear look at her face and the red mark left on it. It was in the shape of a hand.

“ What happened to your face kid? M/n do that or was it her husband F/n?”

As he started the engine up again Sirius noticed her silence and knew she’d been finding an excuse.

“ You don’t have to make anything up Y/n, I had been in a similar position most of my life so I’m not stupid.”

As they neared the Potters household and he helped her off the bike Sirius came and held her back as she tried to move towards Harry.

“ Does he know? Or is it something new happening, he told us your parents weren’t keen on having you over here and knowing Harry.”

“ No, he doesn’t because it’s something new. I’ve got it under control okay.”

———————————————————————

The two teenagers lay laughing on Harry’s bed while they played a game of wizards chess. Harry had just been telling Y/n a story about his father and Sirius when they were called down.

Harry said he needed to get something so Y/n went ahead to help his mother prepare the food. As she walked into the kitchen where Lily was standing she saw Harry’s father talking heatedly with Sirius and his mum. She knew what they were talking about, it had been obvious by the looks James had been giving her the whole day.

Lily liked to think Y/n was sweet and she loved it when the girl tried to help her with things. Lily noticed the girl walk into the kitchen and immediately tried to walk over and cease conversation. When her husband and best friends conversation continued despite her efforts at stopping it she moved over to the doe-eyed girl and tried to calm her.

“ I’m sorry Mrs. Potter, this fighting is my fault. I’m- I think I’ll go home now...”

Lily’s efforts to stop the girl failed miserably and she stood in her house’s doorway watching the girl walk away.

“ She left James! She’s probably about to go home to house of ignorance and hatred because of your stupid bloody prejudice against Slytherins! My cousin.”

James’s face turned and he looked past Sirius’s shoulder, shoving him towards the door lightly.

“ Go find her, it’s dark outside, she’s a 15 year old girl Sirius, and she’s your cousin so go find her.

“ Mum where’d Y/n go?”

———————————————————————

Sirius finally came to a stop and sat next to the girl on the swing.

“ I’m sorry I made you guys fight. I make mum and dad fight too sometimes, It’s not like I want to.”

Sirius laid a hand on her shoulder.

“ Y/n, you don’t make us fight, Harry’s dad just doesn’t like our family much. Harry loves you, His mum loves you, His dad does too and I love you too Y/n. We’re family, we’ve gotta stick together okay. Now do you think you’ll come back to the house with me so your boyfriend’ll stop complaining about you not being there?”

Y/n laughed at Sirius and he smiled at her before standing. “ Don’t worry, I won’t tell Lily I saw you two snogging earlier.”

———————————————————————

“ Y/n can you grab my wand off the counter so I can hang this up?”

“ You’ll have to specify which wand of yours my kind and loving husband, because if you don’t I might just go and grab the wrong one.”

Harry could hear the smirk in her voice and James had to turn around and pretend he didn’t hear her words as Sirius snickered.

“ Harry James Potter not while my grandson is around!”

———————————————————————

I haven’t proof read this yet so idk how trashy it is- Anyway, hope ya liked it!

Tag list ppl-

• @17stalecupcakes

• If you wanna be added just go to my request post and click the tag list link

Drink some water, eat some food, take a screen break and remember You Are Loved!

^ - ^

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simply-trash5 · 3 years

Text

Running

Hi hello...

I am posting my fic that I am currently writing on wattpad because I want lots of people to see it, and hopefully enjoy it. So if you haven’t read it yet, hopefully you will give it a chance. My requests are open as well so please request some things. <3

Lets get on to Chapter One

“Whoever decided to make college classes so early in the morning should be murdered.” You grabbed your pillow and squeezed it tight to your face. Your alarm began to chime again. “I swear…” you grumbled and grabbed your phone to turn off all of your alarms. In hindsight your classes could be earlier in the morning, but having to wake up at 7:00 for classes at 8:00 was still torturous. You rose from your bed and padded across your dorm room to start your coffee maker. Once you began brewing your cup you walked into the bathroom and examined your face in the mirror. “Man I look terrible…” you whispered as you began to tame your y/h/c hair by throwing it into a low bun with a headband. By the time you had finished brushing your teeth and washing your face your cup of coffee was finished. Drinking coffee black was never something you assumed you would do before college, but hey times are hard. You drank your first sip of coffee and sighed at how you could practically feel yourself waking up. You grabbed your mug and headed to your desk to begin putting on your makeup.

Your morning routine never really changed much, especially when you became accepted into the teaching college. Unfortunately because you wanted to be a teacher, all of your classes pretty much began super early in the morning. Being an early riser was something that was difficult because you always had trouble sleeping and always went on random adventures when everyone seemed to be sleeping. You finally finished getting ready for the day throwing on an oversized green sweater, jeans, and black boots. Dressing casual was something that you really enjoyed and you knew that once you became a teacher those days would be over. Grabbing your backpack and your phone you quickly headed out of your room for your day of classes.

You lived on the third floor of your building so you typically took the stairs. You put in your earbuds and began listening to a playlist that you made for walking to class. Making random playlists was something that you loved to do. You had them for all occasions; running, driving, writing, studying, showering, you name it you had a playlist for it. You even had a playlist of love songs that you found yourself singing when you were alone. You let yourself drift away into thought as you walked down the stairs and out into the cold.

“Jesus it's cold.” You grumbled and pulled your hood up over your ears to block the wind. You kept your head down and began walking to class again. Things were going like a typical monday, that was until you were suddenly on the ground on your back. You groaned and rubbed your head from the impact. How did you even get down there? Feeling super confused and honestly a little in pain, you kept your eyes closed. When you finally opened your eyes you saw what you assumed was your reason for falling. Standing above you was a tall guy, probably over 6 foot wearing athletic shoes, grey sweats, and a green hoodie. He was blushing and looked very concerned. “Oh my God. Are you okay? I am such an idiot. I should have been watching where I was going.” You cocked your head to the side while you listened to him ramble. His shiny black hair fell over his dark eyes. If you weren’t in so much pain, you would have probably been blushing too. He was so...cute. A large, strong hand extended to you. “Here, please let me help you up. Again I am so sorry.” You allowed the man to help you to your feet. “Oh you dropped this!” he exclaimed, handing your phone back to you. Without meaning to your phone began playing the song you were listening to before you fell. “That is a great song! By the way, my name is Lee.” You scrambled to stop the music playing on your phone. “Hey Lee,uh my name is Y/N. Now that I am up can you explain to me what just happened?” He scratched the back of his neck and shifted from one foot to the other. “Well, um I was taking my morning run when I got a little distracted and then I kinda ran into you.” He looked down at the ground beginning to blush again. “Oh okay…” you looked at your phone “shit I am running late for class. Sorry I gotta run.” You began to walk toward your class when you heard Lee call out, “I hope I run into you again. Wait, you know what I mean.” You laughed and waved at the tall stranger. Continuing your walk your mind drifted back to this morning's events. It didn’t help that your back was still sore from the fall, but somehow you felt happy that it happened. You had always been one to believe in destiny, so maybe this meant something.

Class dragged on for what seemed like years. Your day continued on pretty normally but you couldn’t help but think about Lee. What did he major in? Did he run every morning? For someone so skinny why did it feel like you had been hit by a semi-truck? You couldn’t help but write these thoughts in your journal. You knew you may never see him again, but if you did you knew exactly what you would find out. You were able to finally giggle about what happened this morning, but part of your giggling came from thinking about how cute he was when he blushed. His stammer when he apologized made you smile. His dark eyes wide in concern sent little butterflies flutter in your stomach. You couldn’t help but hope that you would see him again.

#naruto #naruto fanfiction #naruto au #college au #rock lee #rock lee x reader #rock lee x you #rock lee x y/n #naruto x reader #anime fluff #anime au #naruto fluff #Man I hope you guys like this #precious baby angel

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stxrrywildflower · 4 years

Text

out of the old (1)

pairing - spencer reid x reader

summary - you think about quitting the bau

warning - cursing, mentions of case

series masterlist

everyone in the bau had their breaking point.

for some, such as former agents jason gideon and elle greenway, they snapped and left the organization as a whole. for others, such as emily prentiss and aaron hotchner, they had taken a leave of absence before returning and relying on their bau family.

but you, you had no idea where you were. all you knew is that you had reached your own personal breaking point.

ever since you were a little kid, you know that you wanted to be apart of the fbi. you knew the hard work it would take and personal strains of moving from california to washington d.c. but you had enrolled in the academy and gone from there.

director erin strauss had immediately taken a disliking to you. your superiors at the acadamy had only spoken good things about your work and strauss had to meet you in person. you almost wished you hadn’t agreed to seeing her because that’s where everything fell apart.

after meeting her, your superiors began to expect more from you and the pressure grew. you had ultimately discovered that strauss had told them to be harder on you, but not for good reasons. she wanted to see you crack as if you weren’t meant for the fbi.

once graduating top of your class, you were recruited onto the bau team. from there, you made fast friends and the team had taken a strong liking to you. they loved how you fit within the team and your personality as a whole.

erin strauss, however, was less than thrilled. every moment you messed up in the slightest, you were in her office being scolded. most of the time, you had received a warning. after a rookie cop had almost gotten you killed, you were the one being yelled at, not him. and finally, when strauss heard that you and spencer were dating back almost a year ago, she had pulled you into her office instead of spencer. he didn’t even get a look in his direction from her. she had threatened to suspend you if hotch hadn’t stepped in.

there was a strong bias against you by strauss and everyone on the team knew it.

the last case was the final straw for you. the team had been sent to pheonix and had remained there for almost two weeks. the outcome wasn’t exactly ideal but the positives outweighed the negatives.

it had come down to you and the final unsub. the others had been taken in as well as the victims saved. however, in the middle of you attempting to talk the unsub down, he had put his gun to his throat and pulled the trigger, killing himself instantly.

the whole ordeal had left you a little bit shocked, both at what you had witnessed and how you knew strauss would react. after a long flight, which everyone had slept on, the bau team made their way back to the office. everyone needed to get their stuff and paperwork before being allowed to go hone.

walking in, spencer held your hand tightly. you then let go and made your way to your desk, tossing your bag on the floor next to it. as you went to sit down, you heard a recognizable voice behind you.

“i would suggest you remain from sitting down, agent y/n. my office, now,” strauss demanded, her tone harsh. she walked out of the doors and you had no choice but to follow. you glanced back one more time at your team who all gave you pity looks.

once entering strauss’ office, you stood hands behind your back and looking straight on. strauss however, sat down out her desk and pulled it the most recent case file.

“i assume your know why you are here,” strauss started. you nodded to her words, trying not to give her the satisfaction of you looking scared. “i’m going to be a little nice here. i’ll let you go free tonight but know that i expect to see you in my office tomorrow morning at nine am sharp so we can discuss this,” she spoke, motioning to the graphic case photos. you once again nodded and turned around, walking out and back towards the bullpen.

on your way in, you encountered rossi and j.j. who were leaving to head home. you knew that j.j. was desperate to get home to see will and henry so you didn’t want to hold her up. however, rossi shot you a comforting smile as j.j. squeezed your shoulder.

spencer was there to greet you when you walked in. you shrugged his hand off of your shoulder and ignored derek and emily’s concerned looks. instead, you grabbed your bags and exited the building without another word.

strauss was making you hate your job and there wasn’t anything that could be done that would benefit you.

____

the following day, wednesday morning, you stepped into the bau. you first walked up to hotch’s office, tossing your report from the case on his desk with sad eyes.

“good luck,” hotch spoke to you as you walked out. you slightly smiled before making your way to strauss’ office.

this time, she motioned for you to sit down. you did just that and placed your hands in your lap.

“i don’t know what i’m going to do with you agent y/n. over the past few months you have made countless mistakes. you were placed in the bau team for a reason even if i was strongly against it. personally, i don’t think your profiling skills are up to par but you get one more chance. the next mistake you make, i will have no choice but to suspend you,” strauss informed you.

anger slowly bubbled up inside you. thankfully, you kept your shaking hands in your lap and kept yourself from lashing out. “suspend me? with all due respect ma’am, others on my team have made mistakes but they haven’t been called into your office,” you responded politely.

strauss suddenly threw the case file down and glared slightly at you. “oh so now you’re throwing your team under the bus? this further proves my suspicions of you not fitting in and not working well with them. don’t get me started on your relationship with dr. reid. furthermore, agent hotchner will be hearing about your behavior agent y/n. you are dismissed.”

with that you took a sharp breath and did everything in your power to not storm out of the office. the first thing you did when you re-entered the bullpen was go straight up to hotch’s office. the door was open so you entered and closed it behind you. your boss’s eyes looked to you, a concerned look forming when he saw your state.

“i can’t do it anymore hotch, i really can’t,” you spoke, voice incredibly shaky.

“do what?” hotch responded as he finished scribbling down a few things on a file. you rubbed your eyes as tears began to form.

“be on this team. next time i make the simplest mistake even if it’s suggesting the wrong thing, i’ll be suspended. i can’t remain on this team knowing that i’ll have to walk on eggshells for an unknown time. i know strauss doesn’t want me in the fbi anymore, she told me herself. i just can’t be here anymore,” you revealed, getting choked up in the end.

hotch stopped writing and placed his pen down. “she said that?” he asked. you nodded with a frown. “she told me that my profile skills are not up to par and i shouldn’t be at the bau.”

with that, you realized just how mentally exhausted you were. ever since you got to the bau, you’ve had to constantly prove yourself and after all this time you still seem to not do your job right. you just wanted it to stop.

“and there’s nothing i can do about strauss. so, i would like to request a resignation form,” you concluded.

hotch’s eyes widened at your request. “is there anyway i can convince you to take the rest of the week off to think about it? you can let me know monday morning,” your boss tried to convince you. you thought about it for a slight moment before agreeing.

“i’ll let you know monday morning,” you confirmed. once exiting the office, you noticed your entire team in the bullpen including garcia who was sitting with derek. you ignored them as you grabbed your work bag that had yet to be unpacked and your go bag. you pressed your lips together and rolled your eyes sarcastically as you looked at your name plate. ‘ssa y/n y/l/n’ it read. you flicked it down before leaving the building without another word.

rossi, who had stepped out of his office just in time to see you leaving, looked at his team who were all sporting confused expressions. he then walked down the catwalk and into hotch’s office.

“what’s going on with y/n?” rossi asked.

hotch motioned to close the door and then sit down. rossi sat across the younger man who then sighed.

“she’s reached a breaking point with strauss’s harassment. and dave, from what she’s told me it’s never been this bad. she requested a resignation form,” hotch revealed causing rossi’s eyes to widen.

“she’s quitting?” he asked shocked.

hotch shook his head, “i managed to convince her to take the rest of the week off to think about it. i just don’t know where she’s going to go. and i mean what is there to do about strauss. nothing we could even discuss in a work setting.”

“we can do a team meeting at my house tonight. send a text using the personal numbers. oh and tell garcia to bring her computer,” rossi suggested before exiting to room to avoid suspicion.

spencer looked out confused as his girlfriend exited the bau abrubtly, bags in hand and tears in your eyes. he knew he could go after you but had realized you probably wanted to be alone.

a buzz from his personal phone broke him out of his thoughts. judging by the rest of the teams expressions, they had received one too. it was a simple message from hitch.

“team meeting at rossi’s at 7pm. do not mention it to anyone outside of the team. garcia bring your laptop.”

he looked towards emily who simply shrugged. they had no doubt that it was most likely about your sudden exit.

____

meanwhile, once exiting the bau, you quickly drove home as fast as traffic and the speed limit let you. you then stepped in your apartment, thankful at that moment that you didn’t share with anyone.

the first thing you did was pack your bags. you left your work bag at the table and packed a backpack with personal items such as a few books and electronics. then, you packed a suitcase full of clothes. finally, you changed out of your work attire and into sweatpants and a t-shirt which was obviously much more comfortable.

you sat on your couch, opening up your laptop to american airlines. after finding a flight that was leaving in an hour and a half, you booked it before putting your laptop back into your backpack and standing up.

before you left, you placed your gun on your table. this wasn’t a flight with the bau so you couldn’t bring your gun for obvious reasons. your badge remained in your coat pocket just in case. as you looked back at your apartment, you sighed.

there was only one thought that crossed your mind; spencer. your boyfriend obviously wouldn’t react well to you just getting up and leaving so suddenly. well, no one would, but, you didn’t want to leave him in the dust. you knew he would come to your apartment after work so a note was the easiest option. you quickly grabbed a piece of paper and a pen and began writing.

spencer,

“goodbyes are bittersweet. but it’s not the end, i’ll see your face again”

i know it’s cliche to put a song lyric but i figured it was fitting. i really just need to get away for awhile and clear my head. text me and let me know you’re alright, okay?

i love you,

y/n

you folded it up before neatly printing your boyfriends name on the front. with that, you were out your front door and on the way to the airport.

close to seven hours later, you arrived in san diego. the warm heat of the city welcomed you as you felt your nerves seemingly melt away. after taking a cab, you arrived to your families home.

you first knocked timidly on the door before stepping back. moments later, a figure appeared before the door swung open.

“hi mom,” you spoke with a small smile.

#criminal minds #criminal #spencer reid #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #derek morgan #penelope garcia #david rossi

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dcbbw · 3 years

Note

Would you ever 📝 AU Romance. Riley having a pregnancy scare or how would Liam would react?

@gkittylove99!!! THIS ASK! THIS.ASK. I have to thank my pre-readers and idea bouncers @sirbeepsalot, @burnsoslow, and @ao719. And to all the folks I sent random snippets to, thank you for not thinking I was crazy!

Warnings for this full-blown fic: Slightly NSFW, Frank discussion of pregnancy termination

I awaken to feel Liam’s weight pressed against my back. His palms cover the backs of my hands as his cock sits in my center, throbbing and twitching.

“Are you awake yet?” His breath, warm and stale, tickles the back of my neck.

I respond by arching my hips upwards; I feel his groin grind against me as he alternates his thrusts between teasingly slow and hard and rough. His teeth scrape my skin between groans of: “Throw that pussy at me,” and “You like how this dick feels?”

The head of his cock is pressed against my spot and I cry out as I release over his shaft; the pillow muffles it. Shortly thereafter, I feel his orgasm splashing against my still clenching walls. He pulls out and rolls over onto his back.

We start every morning with some form of sex. Sometimes it’s oral for me, a blowjob in front of the bedroom mirror for him, or intercourse. It’s always vanilla; we save the kinky for the nighttime.

I stay laying on my stomach; I have been tired lately. And unfocused. I think I need vitamins, maybe an iron supplement. Liam’s voice rouses me, and I turn my head to look at him.

“You need to get up, Riley. It’s time for your shower.”

“I don’t feel good,” I say.

He raises an eyebrow. “Do you have a cold?”

I shake my head. “I just don’t feel good.”

He gives me an odd look before speaking. “I’ll make you some tea and arrange to telework today.”

And then he rises naked from the bed, leaving me alone in the room.

One Week Later

It’s Wednesday, and I am in the office. Chase and Penelope have gone to make the Starbucks run before staff meeting. I didn’t order anything; I am still queasy and it’s strongest in the morning. I feel even more rundown, and there is some heartburn. I am booting up my laptop when my desk phone rings. It’s Lynn, my boss.

“Hey! Come back here and talk to me,” she requests in her signature cheery tone.

I tell her to give me two minutes and hang up. The phone rings again. “Need me to bring you anything?” I answer, sure it’s her again. But it’s Liam.

“Don’t order a car this evening. My car will pick you up at 4:30.”

I stare stupidly at my screen. “Why?”

“You’ll find out.” And the call is disconnected.

I feel uncertainty twist my already roiling stomach as I head into Lynn’s cubicle. She looks up at me, a bright smile on her face. Her hair is in loose waves and falls just past her shoulders; her skin is clear with a rosy glow.

“You look great!” I compliment her. “How do you feel?”

Lynn is entering her fifth month of pregnancy. It’s her fourth; she’s carrying twins.

“Thanks! I feel like I’m hauling around a pod of whales. Sperm whales,” she giggles at her pun.

I offer her a weak smile as I sit in the only empty chair in her cubicle. She frowns slightly. “Was that HR offensive?” She waves her hand dismissively. “I don’t know and too fat to care.”

I shake my head slightly. “You’re fine.”

She begins to dig into a styrofoam container that holds her breakfast: corned beef hash, sausage links, grits, potatoes, toast, and sunny-side up eggs. The sights and smells turn my stomach even more. As she eats, Lynn prattles about her weekend, possibly hiring a new person to help Coco in IT, and maybe putting together an employee handbook.

I say nothing because if I open my mouth, the water and yogurt I had earlier may come up. Noticing my silence, Lynn looks up me; her eyes are critical as she studies me.

“Riley, are you okay? You look … listless.”

“I’m fine!” I force myself to respond cheerfully. “Just a little tired.”

One of her hands rests lightly against her burgeoning belly; the other firmly grips her fork as she drags it through hash, grits, and egg yolk. “Go home. Get some rest for the remainder of the week.”

“I’m fine,” I protest.

“Then go home and get even better. Answer a couple of emails, take a call and you won’t have to use your leave.” She speaks around mouthfuls of food.

My eyes fall to her belly. “Do you have names for the babies yet?”

“Peanut butter and Jelly.” She sees my surprised expression. “There’s a story there, but it’s definitely NSFW. I’m not dealing with HR today.”

She waves her hand at me in a “shoo” motion. “Go home! See you Monday.”

I rise from the chair and make my way slowly back to my desk. I shut down the laptop. I pick up my desk phone and call Liam.

“What?” His tone is curt. I wonder if he’s busy or doesn’t want to hear from me.

“I’m leaving work now. I’m off until Monday.”

A pause before he speaks. I hear papers being shuffled and him typing on his keyboard. “Call the car, go to the penthouse. Shower. Don’t answer the door for anyone, don’t be a Nosy Parker, and I’ll be there shortly.”

And he hangs up.

Once inside the penthouse, I wander around before I shower. It’s rare Liam leaves me alone here; I find it feels strange without his presence. The quiet sounds different, the sun slants through the windows at an altered angle. The stovetop and counters gleam in the bright kitchen; usually both are filled with pots and pans and food in various stages of preparation. I open the refrigerator; there is a platter of homemade meatballs, perfectly rolled and shaped and filled with onions and peppers, ready to be cooked for our dinner tonight. I wonder what else we’ll have.

As I cross back through the living room, I look up at the staircase; only when Liam requests me in his study do I venture into the upper level of the penthouse. There’s a study, home gym, full bathroom, guest room, and the only ingress/egress to the outdoor space upstairs.

I keep walking until I reach the bedroom. I pass Liam’s chest of drawers and frown; one of the drawers isn’t fully closed. I set my phone on top of the furniture and place my palm against the gleaming wood to push it close, but I hesitate. I wonder what’s inside. I look around, even though I know I am the only person in the house.

I’m going to be a Nosy Parker.

I pull the drawer open cautiously and peer inside: neatly folded stacks of boxer shorts in white and black greet me. Next to them are wife beaters, also in white and black, and short-sleeved undershirts in white. There is a wooden tray on the right-hand side of the drawer; it’s mostly cufflinks and tie clips, but I see two photographs, face down. I look at them curiously; just as my fingers reach out to touch them, my phone rings.

I jump and let out a small yell before pushing the drawer shut and looking at my caller ID. I don’t recognize the number; I toss the phone onto the bed before stripping and entering the shower. By the time Liam arrives home, I am wearing his robe and wrapped in a blanket on the living room sofa. There is a talk show on the television. He stands in the doorway looking at me, carrying a brown paper bag. It smells delicious.

And I am now starving.

His eyes look me over as he passes me the food; it’s a grilled cheese sandwich and cup of tomato soup with basil. I look at him gratefully before I bite ravenously into the gooey, melted cheese and hot buttered bread. The cheese melts against my tongue; a droplet of butter rolls from my lower lip down my chin.

Liam sits next to me; he turns the television off.

“You’re feeling better?”

I am drinking savory soup directly from the container. “I’m still tired, but my nausea has passed.”

He nods thoughtfully. “You haven’t used your supplies this month, Riley.”

The sandwich is at my lips, but my mouth does not open. I’m trying to calculate the last time I had my period. Liam watches me for a few seconds before speaking.

“You’re 10 days late, Riley.”

I stare at him, struggling to come to terms with what this meant. Or could mean. Even the most regular women were sometimes late due to hormones or something.

But I was sick in the mornings. I was fatigued constantly.

The image of Lynn’s hand on her pregnant belly flashes through my mind.

I set my food down; my mouth is suddenly dry. “What … what if I am?”

“Pregnant?” Liam asks as he stands, then makes his way to the television set. He stands there, arms folded across his chest. His burgundy tie is blood against the crisp, white shirt he wears.

I nod slowly.

“You’ll get rid of it.” His tone is calm, matter-of-fact.

A coldness spreads from my belly to chill my entire body. I feel goosebumps rise on my skin. “No,” I whisper. “IF I am, it’s my body!”

“But my child. I don’t want children, Riley.”

“Then you should’ve taken better precautions!” I yell as I stand and get in his face. The robe falls open. I am naked beneath it, but Liam isn’t looking at my body.

“YOU said you were on birth control!” His voices thunders throughout the apartment. He takes a deep breath as he composes himself.

“However, I should have ensured that no … accidents could occur. I’ll be rectifying that situation.”

My eyes search his. He returns my gaze, his eyes steady. How could he be so callous, so cold towards a possible life he helped create?

“I’m not getting rid of our baby. This isn’t something you can throw money at to make it go away, Liam!”

He looks at me incredulously. “It’s a BABY! I will ALWAYS BE THROWING MONEY AT IT!” He shakes his head. “Best to make a one-time payment and be done with it.” He looks at me with hard, dark eyes. “And you either get rid of it or give it up. Those are your only options, Riley. You can’t have us both.”

He steps around me, headed for the stairway that leads upstairs. “Finish your food before it gets cold.”

The heels of his shoes tap against hardwood as he jogs up the stairs. And I am alone.

All alone.

I look around and my glance falls on my lunch. I gather it and take it into the kitchen; I watch red liquid splash against the stainless steel of the sink as I pour the soup out. I wrap the sandwich in its paper, put it back inside its bag, and ball the whole thing up before tossing it in the trash.

Back in the living room, I straighten the sofa cushions and fold my blanket; I carry the blanket with me to the bedroom. I place it back inside the closet; I look at my clothing. Clothing that Liam bought. My fingertips run across the various fabrics: silk, wool, cotton; it causes the hangers to tinkle against each other.

I am standing at the window, the robe belted tightly around my waist, when I hear Liam’s voice behind me. He says I have a doctor’s appointment Friday morning to determine if I am indeed pregnant. I say nothing as my eyes stay fixed on sunlight glinting off the East River, barely visible behind buildings of stone and steel.

I feel him behind me; I smell his cologne and hear his breathing. I feel tears prick my eyes.

“Why do you hate me so much?” I whisper.

“I don’t,” he answers softly.

His arms come around my waist and I feel his face drop into my hair. Then he steps away. “Dinner in an hour.”

“I’m not hungry.”

His footsteps pause. “You should eat.” And then he is gone.

That night, we do not have sex, but we do the next morning. We then spend the remainder of the day avoiding each other and not speaking.

I sit on his ridiculously oversized bed, chin resting on my knees, wondering what I will do if I am pregnant. I have my job; I have the alimony from Maxwell. I would need to find a bigger apartment, a two-bedroom at least.

I would not ask Liam for any child support, nor would I accept it if offered.

Friday morning, we are sitting in a doctor’s office. I fill out paperwork and give the receptionist my insurance information. Liam sits in a chair, an ankle resting on a thigh while he reads a magazine. When my name is called, he walks with me into the examination room.

The nurse is cheerful; she asks me questions that I answer in a dull tone.

No, I have never been pregnant before.

My period is now two weeks late.

The nausea is worse in the morning. I also have heartburn.

No pain.

Liam’s eyes stay fixed on me.

The nurse draws blood; I go to the bathroom to pee in a cup. And we wait.

The doctor comes in 20 minutes later. I am not pregnant. But she wants to do an ultrasound. I feel relief, sadness, and fear. I look at Liam, but his expression is stoic, giving nothing away. I agree to the ultrasound.

There is cool gel. Pictures of my insides show up on a screen. There are white spots on my right side.

I have gallstones; that is why I am nauseous and have heartburn and fatigue.

My surgery is scheduled for a month from Monday.

Liam asks if there is anything that can help relieve my discomfort for the next month. He inquires about foods and drinks to avoid. But he doesn’t look at the doctor when he asks his questions.

He is squatting in front of me, his thumb brushing my cheek while his eyes hold mine captive.

The doctor answers as she scribbles on paper: Ibuprofen to help with pain, and I need to limit my dairy, fats, grease, and fried foods.

At the reception desk, Liam pays the co-pay costs. The receptionist smiles at him. “Dr. Marion will see you Wednesday. Did you receive your paperwork?”

Liam nods, and tells her he will return it no later than Monday before he takes my hand as we walk to the elevator. I want to pull away because I don’t think he would be holding my hand if I were pregnant.

He won.

But I let my hand stay wrapped with his.

“Who’s Dr. Marion?” I ask.

“My urologist.”

“Is it a routine visit?”

I feel my stomach sour even though I haven’t eaten anything.

The elevator car arrives, and we board. He pushes the button to take us to the lobby. His eyes stay fixed on the metal doors as we begin our descent downstairs.

“I’m getting a vasectomy.”

And he says nothing else.

Tagging: @sirbeepsalot @jared2612 @katedrakeohd @jovialyouthmusic @hopefulmoonobject @amomentofsinclairity @ao719 @burnsoslow @bbrandy2002 @janezillow @marietrinmimi @annekebbphotography @merridithsmiscellany-blog @queenjilian @texaskitten30 @glaimtruelovealways @indiacater @forthebrokenheartedthings @kingliam2019 @bebepac @zaffrenotes @liyanin @liamxs-world @choiceslife @ac27dj @the-soot-sprite @gnatbrain @sanchita012 @anotherbeingsworld @atha68 @hopelessromanticmonie @amandablink @cmestrella @iaminlovewithtrr @cinnamonspongecake @lifeaskim @starrystarrytrouble @liamandneca @liamrhysstalker2020 @alyssalauren @queenrileyrose @ladyangel70 @yourmajesty09 @gkittylove99 @neotericthemis @twinkleallnight @umccall71 @ritachacha @marshmallowsaremyfavorite @cordonianroyalty @superharriet

#tw discussion of pregnancy termination #tw slightly ns*w #dcbbw answers #UnRomance AU ask #liam x riley #this isn’t Cordonia

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