#professor! Will Graham x reader
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Time to Pretend .. Will Graham x student! Reader
Content warning . 18+ NSFW
His sweet little moans sound so delicious in her ear that it almost seems right to be touching him like this.
Oh, and how sweet he looks. Her forensics professor leans against his desk, big arms gripping the edge of it as his pants rest at his ankles. His cock is red and achy in her hand as she rubs the tip of him with her palm.
He stays still for the most part, but boy does he make faces. His mouth dropped open, eyes scrunched closed as she whispers foul mouthed things in his ear. He whines when she kisses him firmly on the mouth, feverently pressing his lips against hers like a man starved. She pulls away from him with a small chuckle.
“Concentrate, professor.“
“Please,” he murmurs, breathless. Her thumb rubs over his cockhead and he fucks into her hand with shallow thrusts. “Please, baby— I can’t—“
“You can,” she coos. His glasses fall crooked on his nose, and she kisses him on the cheek before setting them straight. “Come on, professor Graham, don’t you want to be a good boy for me?”
The sound he makes is borderline pornographic. He nods, because yes, he wants to be a good boy for her, he wants it more than his next breath. He bites his lower lip to muffle his sounds— it’s a lunch break, and anyone could walk in.
“Look at you, honey,” she sighs out, hypnotized by the pre cum spilling over her fist. “You’re so wet. Practically dripping down my hand.”
“It’s.. it’s because you’re making me feel so good,” he breathes out. His hand reaches out to wrap around the wrist stroking him, and he doesn’t know if he wants her to stop or keep going because his brain has turned to complete mush. He assumes the latter, because he can feel his orgasm rapidly approaching when she twists her wrist a certain way. “You’re making me feel so good. Fuck— “He tilts his head back, eyes rolling. “ I’m— I’m close. I’m gonna—“
Her hand stops, pulls away from him so suddenly that he lets out a choked sob. Not again.
“No!” He whines, and reaches out to grab her fingers and put them back where they belong. She slaps his hand away.
“Did I say you could do that?” she asks, scolding. “Put your hands on the desk. Don’t fucking touch me, ever.”
He wants to scream. But his obedience doesn’t waiver now, and he digs his fingernails into the wood of the table. She smiles at this, her hands trailing up to his hips and squeezing them.
“You’re so pretty,” she praises, and tilts her head. “It’s too bad you’re such a brat.”
“I’m not.” he replies under his breath, almost annoyed. But not really— he could never be annoyed with her.
“What was that?”
“Nothing.”
“That’s what I thought,” she says, before wrapping her hand around him again. He sighs in relief, his cock so red that it’s almost purple. How long has it been since they begun this? Thirty, maybe forty minutes? He should be concerned about getting caught, but right now he’s too far gone to care.
There she goes again. Bringing Will to the edge, denying him. Over, and over, and over. Until some semblance of mercy is cast upon the poor man when he sees her pull down the front of her skirt. She tugs the waistband of her underwear open so he can see the top of her mound, and she directs the tip of his cock right above it. She jacks him feverently, telling him to squirt all over her aching pussy.
Will is excited, almost relieved of all of his fucking issues when she says this. It’s all going great— until the sound of a doorknob jingling reverberates through the room.
Panic surges through Will. He had locked the door (thank god), but now the person on the other side begins to knock.
He thought she would panic. She doesn’t.
“Better cum now, professor,” she teases, batting her eyelashes, and he bites into his wrist. “Cmon, baby, I’m finally letting you cum. Is a little audience really giving you cold feet?”
“(Y/N), I swear to God—“
“Will?”
He hears a voice from outside, one that seems to be looking for him.
Jack Crawford. He’s getting edged by one of his students, and the person to come knocking on his classroom door is Jack fucking Crawford. His forehead bumps against hers and his mouth falls open.
He can’t help what happens next. Maybe it’s all the pent up sensations, or the way her pussy looks so delectable and she’s begging for him to cum all over it— maybe it’s the fact that he might get caught. But the man’s mouth drops open, drool seeping out of the corner of it, and he finally, finally reaches his peak.
He practically drenches the girl’s panties, glazes the inside with sticky white and fights the urge to yell how thankful he is. She strokes him through his orgasm, a grin on her face at the sight of his spend coating her. The knocking sounds louder, but fuck it feels so good that Will could care less.
She pulls her hand away when he comes down. She smiles, her lips grazing the shell of his ear.
“Good boy,” she whispers, and he shudders.
“Will?” Jack’s voice sounds again, concerned almost. “Are you in there?”
The girl shakes her head— a signal. There’s a smile on her face as she sees Will’s distraught face. He stays silent.
It isn’t long before Jack leaves, going off elsewhere to find him. He hears retreating footsteps, and breathes a sigh of relief. Looking at her, his jaw clenches tight.
“Why did you do that?”
She shrugs. “Why not?”
He wants to be angry, but all he’s thinking about is the load that’s drying in her underwear. She kisses his cheek before she skips to the door, vacant on the other side.
“See you tomorrow, professor.”
:: @mysticpenguincreation @nightmare-niko @iheartinkonpaper @claireyberryy @becauseseaotters @emmalandry @princesstiti14 @aerangi @kaithoughs @jamespotterismydaddy
#bunny writes#will Graham#will Graham x reader#will Graham x fem! reader#will Graham x student! reader#professor! Will Graham x reader#professor! Will Graham#student! reader#student x teacher#Hannibal#Hannibal nbc#Hannibal series#will Graham Drabble#will Graham blurb#will Graham oneshot#will Graham fanfic#Hugh dancy
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Masterlist <3
I started writing fanfics in late January this year, and I'm so glad you guys like it! 4 months and 50+ fanfics already!
Bridgerton
Benedict Bridgerton
A beautiful thing to picture, indeed.
One happy marriage.
Saltburn
Felix Catton
He would burn the world for her.
I love hearing about your day. SMUT
The cold ground provided no comfort.
Sweet little nothings.
So guilty.
Breakfast is ready.
It's like heaven. SMUT
Anything for you, beautiful girl. SMUT
The Last of Us
Joel Miller
A civilized meal.
Never been more thankful.
They're not gonna hit you.
Her saving grace.
Sweet mama.
Miller baby.
Two idiots in love. Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 (Finished series)
Mandalorian
Din D'jarin
His perfect little Cyar'ika.
You've made me worry.
Such a pretty sight.
I know you made her your riduur.
Good Omens
Crowley
He may always be a demon, but she still loves him.
Hannibal NBC
Hannibal x reader x Will
I see the way you look at her, William.
His carefully crafted web.
A predicament.
Terms of Endearment (drabble).
Will Graham
No Pajama Party for you, Mr. Graham.
Fishing 101.
Their safe hold.
So scared but so happy.
Polar
Duncan Visla
Four days of hell.
Midsommar
Pelle
That's a love rune. Casts a love spell.
Twilight
Jasper Hale
Are you scared of me, Princess?
Sparring.
Marcus Volturi
The Best Thing for Marcus.
Caius Volturi
The human did interrupt.
Sherlock BBC
Jim Moriarty
A deer in the headlights.
Harry Potter Universe
Barty Crouch Jr.
His betrothed. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4.
I hope I do.
Severus Snape
The astronomy professor.
Remus Lupin
Our needs. SMUT
James Potter
Feeling unwell.
OC stories:
Harry Potter universe:
The misaligned stars.
Remus Lupin x OC x (past)Regulus Black
Summary: The golden trio knocks on the door of someone who can help them with the Slytherin locket.
................
I'm new to the whole writing side of things but I'm open to try requests!
Here's the link for what I write for!
Fanfic count: 59
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CROWN OF PIERCING BONE
Hannibal Lecter x fem!reader x Will Graham (18+)
You’re an FBI trainee with a spiraling empathy disorder, tasked with helping track a horrific serial killer who bow-hunts women dressed only in antler crowns. But Will Graham, the brooding professor who’s reluctantly agreed to mentor you, may actually be the very killer you and the FBI are looking for.
Meanwhile, you inexplicably don’t trust your psychiatrist, Dr. Lecter. He might be seducing and manipulating you, or maybe he just wants to pâté your liver.
Wherein....
• Will’s afraid to open up, but even more afraid of letting you go. That might not be a good thing.
• You maybe take a fire axe to Hannibal’s harpsichord in an uncontrolled fit of rage. And, no, he’s not exactly ~pleased~ about it.
• You thought you were sane, but now you’re part of Will and Hannibal’s murder family??
• Maybe taking psychedelics around Hannibal isn’t the best idea you’ve ever had. He's likely to take advantage.
• You might be dating a dissociative serial murderer? Fun~!
[ TAGS & WARNINGS ] dark!Will Graham, Will Graham fluff, M/M/F threesome, crime, psychological thriller, hallucinations, slow burn, canon typical violence, volatile feelings, angst, mental illness, unconventional love triangle, manipulation, gaslighting, porn with plot, porn with feelings, explicit sexual content, cannibalism, enemies to lovers, lovers to enemies, Hannibal playing god, deception, mystery, trauma, issues with guilt, culinary exploits of a sexual and murderous nature, hurt and comfort, lots of hurt and comfort, canon typical dark content, serial murder, investigation, therapy with Dr. Lecter, ethical dilemmas, neurodivergent characters, neurodivergent reader, conflicted reader, kidnapping, attempted kidnapping, criminal psychology, possible major character death, dreamscapes, erotomania, soft sex, rough sex, shower sex, hate sex, shoved against a bookshelf sex, trying desperately to be quiet so you don't get in trouble sex, mild knife play, fishing with Will, Hannibal adores dressing you up, dinner parties, aftercare, elements of revenge, horror, descriptions of violent and phantasmagorically grotesque crime scenes, sitophilia, encephalitis, threats of violence, consensual psychedelic drug use, covering up crime scenes, sleepwalking, memory loss, conflictions with reality, season 1 AU, domestic fluff, flirting, I might have daddy issues?, secret relationships, jealousy, darkfic with tooth-rotting fluff, Will Graham is a teddy bear (supposedly), if you thought things weren’t going to get fucked up I’m happy to disappoint you
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[ TAGLIST ] @y-o-u-n-g-g-o-d-s @vegasbud @angelmenace @mrsgrahamsdesign @jedinerd27 (full disclosure vegas, the slutty scene I spoiled doesn't happen for a while)
read on ao3 🤍
chapter one : STORMCLOUD EYES
chapter two : MIASMA
#hannibal lecter#will graham#hannibal lecter x reader#will graham x reader#hannibal lecter x you#will graham x you#hannigram#hannibal#murder husbands#fanfiction#my fanfic#crown of piercing bone#nbc hannibal#reader insert
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Firehouse Harrington - New Beginnings - Chapter 1
Fireman!Steve x f!reader/f!oc
steve harrington masterlist
warnings | 18+ angst, descriptions of PTSD-like symptoms, smut
a/n | thank you all so much for your patience as i plotted this next period for steve and his girl. i've had a few folks ask if i'd do a taglist for this series, so if enough people express interest i will absolutely start one! thank you as always for reading <3
.......................
“Hey, golden girl! Wait up!” Shit. She has nearly made it out of the lab building when Thomas catches her, his voice resounding down the hall. She had been doing a decent job of avoiding him ever since their failed date, a month’s worth of dipping into empty classrooms and staying late to keep from seeing him. But today, she has finally slipped up, turning around and nervously fidgeting with the strap of her bag as he walks toward her.
“You’re a hard girl to find. I’ve been looking for you, but you seemed to disappear on me.” She hums, trying to seem casual.
“Oh? I’ve just been really busy. Wrapping up senior year and all.” His dimple pops as he tilts his head at her.
“Busy, huh? Where are you headed right now? Can I walk with you?” Her stomach drops at his question.
“Um, I was actually just leaving for the day. I’m meeting some–”
“Let me walk you out. I’ve been wanting to talk to you again.” She huffs, realizing it’s going to be easier to give in than to keep making excuses for him to somehow ignore. She nods with a sigh, and he falls into step alongside her as they make their way toward the main exit.
“I heard you’ve already started working with Professor Graham. That’s awesome. How’s your thesis work going?”
“Good, yeah. It’s all still preliminary stuff, but I’ve been–” For the second time, he cuts her off, and she has to fight against rolling her eyes.
“You’ll have to tell me more some time soon. This might be presumptuous, but are you doing anything tonight? It is Valentine’s Day after all.” Oh no, not presumptuous at all. She shoulders out of the front door, Thomas close on her heels before she finally turns around to look at him in the fading afternoon light.
“I have plans actually.” That doesn’t seem to deter him judging from the grin he’s still shooting her way.
“What? Movie night with your girlfriends?” She goes to answer him, but is promptly cut off by the low rumbling of an engine coming closer, both of their heads turning to see a motorcyclist pulling up to the curb. As the person on the motorcycle removes their helmet, it’s her turn to grin as Thomas’ face falls, his eyes darting between her and the bike.
“Bye, Thomas. Happy Valentine’s Day.” With that, she all but skips away from him and towards the low-thrumming bike.
“Hey, pretty. He giving you trouble?” She presses a few quick kisses to his lips, effectively drawing his attention away from Thomas as she brushes her thumb along his cheek.
“Hi, Stevie. No trouble, just annoying.” Steve huffs, eyes darting over her shoulder one more time to look at Thomas, but she’s quick to tug his chin back toward her.
“Steve, it’s fine. He’s just a total asshat.” He snorts at that, shaking his head as he looks at her through his lashes.
“Always with that mouth, huh? Alright, baby, let’s go before doctor asshat burns a hole through me with his eyes.” She laughs, glancing over her shoulder. Sure enough, Thomas is still watching them with a very furrowed look on his face, and it just makes her laugh harder as she turns back around to her man. She brushes his flopped-over waves out of his eyes as he grins at her.
“Helmet?” He nods, reaching back to pull out another helmet from the saddlebag and hand it to her. It was the only way she agreed to ever get on the thing with him, a project he had taken up after reading some book about zen and motorcycles that his therapist had recommended. So long as he always wore his helmet – the helmet that she specifically picked out for him because it was certified by the Brain Injury Association of America – she was just happy to see him so excited about something.
She clicks her own helmet on before stumbling to throw her leg over the humming bike, hands quick to find purchase around Steve’s waist. She’d never admit it to him, but it’s always a bit thrilling, getting on the back of Steve Harrington’s motorcycle.
…
“Oh my god.”
“Do you like it?”
“This is like– the best thing I’ve ever eaten.” Steve has to hide his proud smile at her words behind a bite of pasta. He had wanted to do something really nice for his girl for Valentine’s, and had even begrudgingly called his mom to get the recipe for her famous spaghetti. Gina Harrington had been surprised to hear from her son, but had also chewed him out pretty quickly.
“Is this for a girl, Steven?” He was glad she couldn’t pick up on the way he was blushing over a landline.
“Well, she must be special if she’s got you cooking for her. When am I gonna meet this girl, huh? You should visit soon. I miss my baby boy.”
He had barely made it out of the phone call alive, his mother somehow twisting a visit out of him for her birthday in March, with the hesitant promise that he’d bring his girl along to meet “la familia.” On his mother’s side, Steve came from pure Italian roots, and an extended family big enough to start its own circus. But, watching his girl smile around another bite of pasta was making the prospective trip home seem worth it.
As she finishes chewing, she quirks her eyebrow, pointing her fork at him.
“You’ve been holding out on me, Harrington.” He laughs, shaking his head, because truthfully, Steve’s never done anything like this for anyone. The closest he had come to something like this was heating up Campbell's chicken and stars for Robin when she had the stomach flu last year. And Thanksgiving, but he had really only helped with that. This one was all him, with a little assist from mama Harrington.
“It’s nothing, really. I’m just glad you like it, baby.” With that, she leans across the table and presses a smacking kiss to his lips, leaving him with what feels like a really dopey grin as she sits back in her chair.
“I love it. Thank you, Stevie.” During his “King Steve” days, Valentine’s had been an easy ticket to getting laid, nothing more. A well-timed box of chocolates and a bouquet of flowers and his night was made. He didn’t care for the holiday then, and he doesn’t really care for it now. But he cares for her, and because of that, for the first time ever, Steve tried really hard this Valentine’s Day.
They both sit back with content sighs, warmed by the good food and the smiles they pass back and forth.
“Did I tell you I saw Eddie on campus the other day?” He groans at that. Eddie Munson is the last thing he wants on his mind right now. She giggles.
“I saw him walking across the quad. He didn’t seem to recognize me at first when I called out his name, but it clicked pretty fast I think. He asked me if I’ve been keeping you in line.” Steve lets out a huff, raising his eyebrows at her.
“And? What’d you tell him?”
“Told him you’ve been keeping yourself in line these days, that you’ve been working really hard. And I may have invited him over for dinner this weekend.” Steve groans, opening his mouth to protest, but she’s having none of it.
“Steve, he���s your friend. And he just moved to a new city and started college for the first time. He could use all the help he can get, alright? Poor guy was looking a little lost.” She’s got that smug look on her face like she knows he isn’t going to say no to her.
The dynamic in their relationship has certainly shifted, and while she has insisted this is a fresh start for them, Steve fears he may never make it up to her, for what he did and how he treated her. He’s trying “painfully hard,” words his therapist had used. Diligently doing his homework assignments, keeping all of his appointments with Dr. Staub, finding odds and ends projects to keep his mind busy, Steve has been walking the walk without a doubt. But he’s finding that the further along in therapy he gets, the harder it becomes, long dormant memories getting upturned that sting just as fresh as they did when they were made.
Staub assures him it’s all a part of the process. That it will get worse before it gets better. But there are some things he can’t even talk about with Staub. What’s the therapy protocol for processing an interdimensional war that almost destroyed the world as they know it? The memories come in brilliant, painful flashes that leave him tired and muted. When she finds him like that, he chalks it up to a hard shift at the station or a touchy therapy session. She’s always soft with him during those times, and it in turn has softened him even more. He’s still rough around the edges, and snaps at her more often than he’d like to, but it’s clear to even him how much he’s changed, and he is at least proud of that. He just hopes it’s enough to make her stay.
…
“Just leave those, baby. Can get ‘em in the morning.” Steve tugs on her wrist, pulling her away from the sink full of dishes to guide them over to the couch. They settle down into each other easily, her head resting on his chest and his arm slung over her. It’s a position they have both gotten comfortable in, many nights ending in some sort of similar tangle. While it’s sweet, she can’t help being a little frustrated that it never turns into more.
She knows she had said she wanted to take things slow this time, but compared to how they used to be, this is practically glacial. It’s been a little over a month now, and the sweet kisses and closeness have been lovely, but she’d like the pace to pick up, even just a little bit.
“Steve?”
“Hmm?”
“I have a present for you too.” She lifts her head from his chest to see the furrowed look on his face. She can’t help the nervous laugh she lets out as she slowly stands from the couch. Steve’s grumbles of protest die in his throat when she starts to unbutton her jeans and shimmy them down her legs.
“Baby, what are you–”
“Just let me show you, Steve, please?” She can see the bob of his throat as he sits back, his eyes darting everywhere as she steps out of her jeans and quickly lifts her shirt over her head. It had been an impulse buy. She and her girlfriends had been doing some window shopping on her day off. The set had caught her eye in the display of a store she’d normally never enter, but with Valentine’s Day coming up, she decided to try something new. Something dark purple and satiny.
She swears Steve stops breathing for a moment, his eyes wide as he takes her in. It’s a bit overwhelming, the complete silence coupled with his unblinking gaze, and she starts to worry she just made a huge fool of herself, nervously wrapping her arms around her stomach.
“I-I’m sorry– this was silly– I should just–” He’s quick to cut off her mumbling, standing up and drawing her arms away, his fingers twining with hers.
“No! No, fuck– m’sorry, I just– are you trying to kill me right now?” She splutters out a laugh at his breathless question, heat rising in her cheeks. He lets go of her hands, his fingers ghosting over the tops of her breasts, the silky fabric pushing them up just slightly. When his gaze meets hers again, his eyes are blown out, dark and hazy.
“So beautiful, honey. Is this all for me?” She smiles, pressing her hands over his until his fingers are flexing into the swell of her breasts.
“It is, Steve. Do you like it?” He swallows hard as he bobs his head.
“Yes– it’s um– it’s– I like it– I like it a lot, fuck– could you– could you turn around for me? Let me see all of you?” She turns in his arms, grinning at the low curse he lets out as his fingers graze along the string waistband of her panties, before turning back around and wrapping her arms around his neck. She leans in to let her lips graze along his ear, his hands squeezing her waist as he lets out a harsh exhale.
“Happy Valentine’s, Stevie.” When he kisses her, it’s different, a little more of an edge, a little more hunger in the way he swipes his tongue along her lips and she opens up to him without hesitation. His broad palms are roaming her back, leaving light squeezes to the curve of her ass before trailing up her spine as she walks them back toward the couch. She lightly shoves him to flop back onto the couch as she kneels down between his spread legs. But as soon as she starts work at his belt buckle, Steve stops her, holding her wrists aloft between them.
“Hey, wait– you don’t have to do that, honey.” She rests her cheek on his thigh, trying to ignore the nerves that have settled back under her skin at his seeming rejection.
“I want to, Steve. Wanna make you feel good.” He sighs at that, his head hanging low as she tries to catch his downturned gaze. Now she’s starting to get worried.
“Steve?”
“I just– I don’t deserve it– don’t deserve you– looking so pretty for me and everything.” Oh. She feels her heart sink, finally realizing what’s going on. He’s been doing so well, but she knows that Steve still beats himself up for what happened, how he had treated her. To an outsider, she thinks she probably looks like an idiot for taking him back, but she knows that how he was with her before was a reflection of calcified layers of his past. Cliche as it may be, those layers are crumbling, and she’s excited to stick around to see the Steve Harrington that survived underneath them, already catching glimmering glimpses.
She slips her hands out of his hold, both her palms resting on his thighs as she sits back on her knees.
“Will you look at me, please?” He does, just barely, eyes meeting hers through his downturned lashes.
“I don’t know what exactly is going through your head, Steve. But I’m telling you that you do deserve to feel good. This is our fresh start, right?” That coaxes a small nod from him. She smiles, squeezing his thighs.
“Can I make you feel good now, baby?” He lets out a ragged sigh, sitting back into the couch as he fully looks at her.
“Whatever you want– I’m all yours, you know that.” It’s all she needs to hear, giving him one more smile as her hands slide from his thighs up to his belt. With a low murmured “hips up, Stevie,” his already hard cock bounces free from his shrugged down boxers and pants to rest against his tummy, smearing pre-cum over the bottom of his shirt. As she noses up the vein that trails the thick underside of him, he scrunches his eyes shut, hands clenching in his hair. She missed that look.
She laps at his swollen tip, enjoying the way the muscles of his thighs tense and jump under her palms, before finally taking him into the heat of her mouth. Steve has always been a stretch, in more ways than one, and as she starts to work him over that familiar ache settles in the hinge of her jaw, her one hand coming to stroke what her mouth just can’t reach.
“Oh fuck– s’really good– so good to me– fucking perfect, honey–” She missed that too, his broken praises and breathy moans encouraging her on, licking a hot stripe up his throbbing length that has him throwing his head back into the couch.
“Wait– shit, you gotta stop.” She freezes immediately, pulling back with concern washed over her face. Steve just huffs.
“I want– I wanna feel you, please.” Suddenly, the dull ache that had settled in her core thrums brighter at his words as he’s already helping her up to straddle his thighs. He pulls her into a hard kiss, confidence clearly growing in his movements as his hands squeeze at the swell of her ass, rocking her against him.
“Can I touch you, honey? Get you ready for me, huh?” His words are a strange mixture of the old and new Steve, still a twinge of his cocky certainty laced with his new sweetness. It makes her thighs clench around him. She nods around a breathy “please,” and he finally gives her that dirty grin she remembers so well.
His hand toys with the satin front of her panties, his palm dipping down to cup her heat through the fabric as she bucks into his grip. He lets out a harsh breath through his nose when he finally dips his hand underneath the fabric, fingers swiping through her folds as she mewls into his neck.
“Fuck, baby– so wet, huh? S’all for me?” She huffs out a pitchy “uh-huh” as he swipes over her clit before dipping a finger down to pump inside of her.
“Steve, more– please, baby.” He shushes her with a kiss to her sternum, adding a second finger to his steady rhythm as she grinds down onto his hand.
“Always gotta spread you open first, huh, pretty? Get your perfect little pussy ready for me.” His words have her already teetering on the edge of release, her cunt fluttering around his deep stroking fingers as she digs her nails into his shoulders.
“Will you come for me, honey? Wanna see you so bad. Please, baby.” That’s new, and evidently all it takes to snap the snared pleasure pulled taut along her spine as she comes with a stuttered gasp of his name, her hips jerking as he works her through it.
“That’s it, honey. Fuck, you’re so beautiful like this.” She sighs when he finally takes his fingers away, her eyes widening when he sucks them into his mouth with a low groan.
“Missed that taste. Missed you– shit, I need you so bad.” She whimpers at his words. It’s a tangled mess, he tugs his shirt off over his head and she slips her panties to the side as he fists himself, lining his tip up with her clenching entrance. Ragged sighs run through both their throats as she starts to sink down onto him, the sweet burn of it making her dizzy as she seats herself fully on his thighs. She swears she can feel him twitch inside her.
“Shit– nothing feels like this– s’too good– too fucking good– can you move, honey, please?” She gives her hips a weak swirl, both of them gasping as he grazes even deeper inside her. She’s all but collapsed into him, hiding her face in his neck, her arms clinging around his neck as she tries to bounce on his cock.
“Steve, please– I need– need you to–” He shushes her, pressing a kiss to her temple as his hands firm up on the curve of her ass.
“I got you, honey– gonna give my girl what she needs, huh?” His hips tilt, thrusting up inside her as he holds her steady against him. His name is a breathless chant on her lips as he finds a pace, her hips grinding down into his with each thrust.
They’ve both needed this for a while now, and it’s clear in the sloppy tempo and how close they both seem to that cliff of pleasure already. She pulls away from him to smear her lips against his in what could only barely be called a kiss with the way they’re both panting into each other.
“So fucking close, honey– wanna feel you– c’mon, I know you can– come for me, pretty.” One of his hands comes around to splay over her hip, his fingers dipping down to circle her clit and it’s enough to have her falling into pleasure for a second time, spasming hard around him. Steve is quick to follow, holding her hard against his chest, as his warmth spreads through her, a low curse fizzling out on his lips as he buries his face in her chest.
They stay like that for a while, trying to steady their heaving breath in each other’s arms. She rakes her fingers through his mussed hair and he tilts his chin up to look at her with blown-out eyes.
“I love you so much.”
“I love you too, Stevie.”
As they get cleaned up, gentle touches in the shower and smiles through the warm steam, she can’t help but think about how different that had been. She knows sex isn’t all about control, but it had certainly felt like she had more of it, that Steve was the one waiting for her to call the shots. It was different, but after all, they are different.
Different is good, right?
#steve harrington fluff#steve harrington smut#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington angst#steve harrington#steve harrington au#steve harrington fanfic#stranger things fanfiction#stranger things
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Degustatión
Hannibal Lecter x Will Graham x Fem!Reader
Also on AO3
Summary: You, an aspiring food critic, are introduced to Doctor Hannibal Lecter by one of your professors. The two of you bond over good food and perhaps... a mutual attraction. Then, Will Graham -- Hannibal's closest friend and confidant -- is added into the equation and things get a lot more complicated... but let's be honest, a whole lot more interesting as well.
Word Count: 4,464 words.
Warnings: SMUT! (18+ only, minors dni), p in v, light knife play, oral sex (f & m), threesome, lmk if there's anything I missed!
A/N: Yep, not much plot, we are going straight to it. We all know what we came here for right? HEAVY ON THE SELF-INDULGENCE
———
The night air was crisp and cool, seeping all the way to your bones despite the layers you wore. Fall was coming to a close and winter was quickly approaching, icy claws bared. You stared up at the house – his house – admiring the impeccable but austere architecture. It reminded you of a more modern sort of palace and, my word, was it fitting of the man you came to see.
As you locked your car and began slowly walking up the driveway, you shivered, but it had nothing to do with the temperature.
This wouldn’t be the first time you’d dine with Doctor Hannibal Lecter, the most refined palate in all of Baltimore. In fact, the first time you met him – a favor from your creative writing professor, who knew of your dream of becoming a food critic – he’d taken you out to dinner. He was always happy to meet people who loved food as much as he did.
It’d been at a fancy restaurant, glittering diamonds and expensive perfume and the cold sneers of the wealthy surrounding you. It was way out of your budget, to say the least. But you hadn’t been surprised at his choice; he was a little eccentric, after all.
You’d felt bad, but he’d insisted on taking care of the bill, so long as you gave your honest opinion on the dishes he ordered for you to try. You were definitely not a picky eater, but you’d been a bit hesitant to relent all of your control. In the end, your own promise to give everything a chance at least once convinced you.
And boy, did Hannibal know how to eat. Not that you thought all word about him was a rumor, but you simply had not known the depths of their truth.
In just that first meeting, he expanded your palate considerably, presenting you with things you’d never even thought of. Perhaps not to the level he was on, but it still felt like a whole new world was yawning open for you to explore.
Sometimes you still dreamed of the lingering umami of caviar, the richness of a good Malbec wine, the sweet and creamy croquembouche he’d fed you spoonfuls of for dessert.
But you had felt a little embarrassed afterward, like you’d been a mere imposter before that night. What the hell had you even known about food?
You had a couple of exotic meals under your belt, but you were only truly starting your career journey, and money wasn’t always permitting.
On the other hand, you’d also felt slightly reassured by the way he watched you, appraising and unrelenting, with a certain curiosity that made you feel completely exposed. He had delighted in your deep hums of approval, the soft glaze of bliss in your eyes. He hung onto your every word as you described flavors, textures, scents. He’d smirked slightly throughout the entire ordeal, hazel eyes shining with amusement, and you found yourself squirming slightly in your seat.
He hadn’t failed to notice that either. In fact, unbeknownst to you, he had a very keen sense of smell, and he seemed to get hooked on yours.
So yes, you had bonded over food, and every subsequent meeting had brought something new and positively groundbreaking. The way he could make you experience such wonders seemed to entice him to continue seeing you, and you certainly were happy to oblige.
But tonight was different in more than one way. He’d bestowed upon you the great honor of inviting you to one of his famous dinner parties, to finally get a taste of his cooking. The idea of eating something put together by his hands – so elegant, with such long fingers, like a pianist’s – felt incredibly intimate, but also monumental. It was anticipation that had you quivering, your whole body tight and seemingly buzzing with electricity.
Especially as you heard a car door shut behind you. Ah, there was the other reason you were so anxious. You whirled around to face him and his steps slowed as he found himself pinned under your gaze.
Not necessarily a rival, but someone who definitely seemed to want to compete with you for Doctor Lecter’s attention. In his own subtle way, of course.
You had heard the name Will Graham a couple of times in your meetings with Hannibal and it was very apparent that they were close. Very close.
When you two had finally been introduced, you did not know what to make of one another. Will was tense and awkward for the most part, avoiding eye contact as much as he could. He was definitely more reserved, letting you and Hannibal do most of the talking, but chiming in with dry remarks whenever he thought it was necessary.
But he also seemed intrigued by you, often looking at you at least from the corner of his eye, like he wanted to see for himself what your appeal to Hannibal was. Not many got close to the Doctor, it seemed, even as popular as he was.
Will studied you in return and smiled almost imperceptibly. It felt like a truce, which you readily accepted.
“What a coincidence,” he said. “We’re both so punctual.”
“Anything else would be rude.” You said, your tone light, even if you firmly believed it to be true. Especially when it came to Hannibal.
He stepped toward you, offering you his arm. “Shall we?”
You linked your arm with his, immediately getting a whiff of his strong aftershave. You understood why Hannibal hated it, but you didn’t voice your opinions. You wished you could smell his more natural scent – pine needles and petrichor and musk – as it fit him much better. It made you want to bury your face in the crook of his neck, fingers intertwined with the curls at his nape.
Perhaps he also did not know what to do with the fact you seemed to be drawn to him as well. It was that quiet, mysterious air about him, always assessing, poised to strike. In a way, he sort of reminded you of Hannibal, though not quite as eased into that darker, more primal nature.
You waited as Will rang the doorbell, arm still holding yours. You weren’t sure if he was leading you, or if he had captured you, not letting you escape. The idea of either was titillating, though it wasn’t like you wanted to leave.
Then, the door opened and there he was, that familiar smirk already on his handsome face.
“Well, well,” Hannibal said. “It’s a pleasure to see you both. Please, come in.”
As you stepped over the threshold, Will took the bottle of wine you brought – a Shiraz, which you remembered Hannibal mentioned liking – as Dr. Lecter stepped behind you.
“May I?” He asked, referring to your coat.
You nodded and his hands slid over your shoulders lightly as you shrugged your coat off. His fingers were warm, almost teasing, and you momentarily wondered how they’d feel on your exposed flesh.
Hannibal inhaled deeply, scenting your perfume – Amber, smoky cedar, bergamot – and that chemical change in your sweat at his nearness.
“Your home is so lovely.” You breathed, taking in your surroundings-- The pastoral art on the walls, the dark glaze of the hardwood floors, the almost surgical cleanliness. It was all just so him. “Thank you for inviting me.”
Hannibal nodded in appreciation, leading you both to the dining room. Will, who was at your side, leaned in close to your ear. “Be careful not to let your jaw fully unhinge, it’s bad for the muscle.”
You scoffed, half amused and half offended. Was he accusing you of being a brown-noser, or did he dislike simply dislike you currying Hannibal’s favor?
“We don’t have to do this, you know,” You said, your voice a husky whisper. “We were playing nice just now. Though I have to say, I do like that little fire of yours. It tells me you can still burn, if you so want.”
Will said nothing, and you knew that in some way, you got to him. Yes, you’d had just a little bit of liquid courage before you got here, but just enough to warm the blood; If only so they might not confuse you for a trembling fawn, surrendering to its fate. It had certainly loosened your tongue a little, letting your desires slip through.
As Hannibal pulled your chair out for you, his smirk grew a little as he sensed the sudden tension between you and his coveted Will Graham. Oh, things were already getting so interesting.
Hannibal poured three glasses of the wine you brought, reaching over to squeeze your hand upon reading the label. You felt a swell of pride in your chest, hid it behind a demure smile. He eyed the column of your throat as you swallowed your wine.
“Forgive my forwardness,” Hannibal said, setting his glass down. “But I must say, you look quite… delectable tonight. Did you go through all that trouble just for me?”
“Doctor Lecter–” You breathed a small, shy laugh, cheeks flushed.
“Careful, Hannibal.” Will cut in, looking right at you. “She might put your dinner to shame.”
“No, I don’t believe she would.” Hannibal leaned forward slightly. “In fact, I have some slightly regretful news. I apologize for waiting until now to bring this up, but I thought we could have a different approach to tonight’s dinner.”
You tilted your head to one side, just now realizing that there were no enticing scents of a cooked meal. You’d been so occupied with his presence to notice. Disappointment curled in your stomach, but his tone made you straighten your spine.
“Oh?” You prompted, suddenly very curious.
“In the continued pursuit of new experiences for you, I was wondering… How would you like to be tasted?”
There was a moment of silence in which you didn’t even move, unsure if you were dreaming or he’d actually just said those words. Oh, what cruel torture it would be, if it turned out to be the former.
But then he went on. “Will and I spoke of it. He was the one to suggest the idea, actually.”
Your eyes immediately drifted to Will Graham, who was looking intently at Hannibal’s profile. That was a time he decided to stay quiet, but you didn’t fail to notice how his Adam’s appled bobbed with a hard swallow.
“Did he now?” Your voice dropped to a near whisper, sultry, coaxing. “And did Mister Graham go into the specifics of how this would go about?”
“Well if I did or not, wouldn’t it be better for you to find out?” Will said, terse, as if he could still not admit his desires to himself. Like he was ashamed of wanting something to keenly. “Or did you want me to tell you?”
You held his gaze for a moment, shaking your head almost imperceptibly.
But then, looking at both men, a sort of awareness made your skin tingle. A field mouse between two mighty serpents, not fully concealed in the tall grass. You wondered how their fangs might feel as they sunk into you, how their venom must sting.
Well, you did say you would try anything at least once, didn’t you?
You cleared your throat, crossing your legs. “Will anyone else be joining us for dinner?”
Hannibal arched a light brow, just as Will finally looked at you, a little taken aback. To Hannibal, this wasn’t so much of a revelation, but more of a confirmation. You secretly loved the theatricality, the rapturous looks of spectators. Most of all, you loved when the spotlight was on you, baring everything – your soul included – for examination. It was what drew him most to you.
Perhaps eventually, but that night…
“No, just us.” Hannibal said finally. “Only with your consent, of course. I do not want to make assumptions. It was just a thought, a mere… unbecoming desire.”
“Perhaps it is mutual.” You admitted, breathless. “We are only made of flesh and fault, after all.”
“Yes, and how tender seems the flesh.” He trailed a finger lightly down your arm, and goosebumps followed in its wake.
Hannibal’s easy smirk returned as you squirmed, thighs rubbing against each other, heat pooling in your stomach and even lower. Will adjusted in his seat, clearing his throat, swallowing hard once again.
You wondered what it would be like to see him break; to see him without restraints, free, surrendered to his basest instincts. You wondered if Hannibal had seen him that way, and if he was just about to share that with you. Or do the same to you.
You weren’t sure which you wanted more, but you were sure you would lose your head if you got neither. Were you beneath begging? It was yet to be seen…
You worried your bottom lip with your teeth, unsure of how to proceed. “What do you need me to do?”
“Nothing, dearest. Leave it to me – to us. You’ll be in very good hands.”
That sultry promise in his words – purred to you in a way only he seemed to know how – melted you completely. You had never believed in anything more.
-------------------------------
The first slow lick of your open mouth had your breath catching, but you couldn’t do much more than close your eyes. Hannibal held your face with one hand, and you were sure it was the only thing grounding you to the Earth; tethering you to your own body.
But then his tongue dragged over yours a second time, and a soft mewl escaped you, your head spinning.
“I’m not sure which I like more,” Hannibal said, voice husky. “Those sounds you make, or the taste of good wine on your tongue.”
The three of you had moved to the kitchen, with you sitting on the dark granite island. The kitchen was opulent and in pristine condition, though there were small details that showed it was well lived in. Out of all the rooms in the house, you knew this was where Hannibal spent most of his time.
Not that you were really paying much attention to your surroundings at that very moment.
“I think you’ve rendered her speechless.” Will commented, an edge of amusement in his voice.
Your eyes fluttered open just barely as Hannibal chuckled. “And we’re barely getting started.”
He slowly trailed the back of his hand down the sleeve of your blouse. “I don’t think we’re going to be needing this, do you?’’
Hannibal took a step back, fingers pensively dancing over the handles of the knives that were stored in a polished wooden block. You immediately moved to start unbuttoning your silk blouse, hands shaking.
But Will, in a sudden act of confidence, stepped forward, between your legs.
“Allow me.” He murmured, eyes downcast.
You watched him closely, how his patient hands slowly finished undoing all the buttons. Your chest heaved as he gently pushed it off your shoulders, pooling at your back. He gazed intently at the lacy bralette you wore, barely concealing anything. Your nipples were two hard peaks that pressed against the thin fabric, demanding attention.
But he did not give it to you. At least, not yet.
Then, Will and Hannibal switched places, your eyes closely trailing the glint of the chef knife’s edge. Your pulse began racing, both in exhilaration and a slight tinge of fear.
Hannibal took a moment to look at you, his hand coming to rest on the flat expanse on your stomach. His hand inches upwards, fingers just barely grazing the soft underwire of your bralette.
“Let’s see what we’re working with here, shall we?” He purred, holding your gaze. “Lean back for me, sweetness.”
You oblige without a doubt. In the next moment, his finger curls, pulling the underwire forward, the knife following close behind. You gasped and in a quick, expert slash, the measly excuse for a cover falls apart, baring your breasts. Your back arched instinctively, attempting to get closer to him.
Hannibal hummed in approval, his smirk positively devious. “Take a gander, Will.”
He trailed the flat part of the knife — featherlight, barely a whisper – down your sternum, through the valley between your breasts. You dared not move this time, not wanting to distract him from this deliciously slow torture. You kept expecting even the slightest nick of the blade, and that fearful anticipation made you even more aroused.
“I must say, I’m not quite sure where to start. Such softness… Such supple skin.” Hannibal mused. The tip of the knife stopped at the hem of your skirt, and he tilted his head to the side with the curiosity of a predator sizing up its’ meal. “We should free you of this too, hm?”
“Yes.” You breathed.
Will tsked in disapproval. “Don’t forget your manners, now.”
Your eyes were drawn to him, your pupils blown wide with desire, the darkness swallowing your iris. You briefly wondered if they could hear the jackhammer pace of your heart; Like a war drum against your ribcage.
“Please.” You added, just as low, your voice somewhere out of reach.
The knife retracted and Hannibal offered you a hand so you could stand up. As soon as you did, he pressed you against him, your bare chest against his woefully clothed one. Will came up behind you, intent on unzipping your skirt, but you stopped him with the arch of your back, pressing your ass against his crotch.
He sucked an audible breath through his teeth, a groan threatening to escape his throat. Hannibal chuckled as Will gripped your hands behind your back with one hand and finally undid your skirt. Roughly, he pulled it off of you, stepping back as Hannibal quickly spun you around to face him.
You gripped Will’s arms tightly as his lips captured yours in a ferocious kiss. He held you up as Hannibal ripped your stockings apart – both with the knife and his hands – jostling you a little against Will. You couldn’t help but moan into his mouth as your panties fell to the same fate.
When you broke the kiss – an obscene string of saliva still connecting your lips – you looked into his eyes, breath catching at the intensity of them; Like a pure and holy – or perhaps unholy? – blue flame. He was getting more and more beautiful by the minute, unraveling before your eyes.
You felt Hannibal’s finger trail up your inner thigh, capturing your wetness. “What a delightful mess you’ve made.”
You squirmed in Will’s embrace, slightly embarrassed at his discovery. How were you so wet already?
Actually, you knew the answer to that question.
Hannibal’s fingers trailed further up, precariously close to that aching spot you really wanted him to touch. But he stopped, almost expectant.
“What do we say?” Will said, voice dangerously low.
“T-thank you.” You gasped as Hannibal grazed his teeth against your inner thigh, chasing away the sharp sting with his tongue.
Involuntarily, you pushed your hips back, closer to his face. You heard Will’s belt clink slightly as he undid it, along with his trousers. You reached down, wanting to touch him, to savor him too, but he only smirked devilishly.
“Greedy thing, isn’t she?” Will purred, taking a hold of your hand to stop you.
“So it seems.” Hannibal said, standing up. “But with such delectable honey, how can we deny her?”
From behind you, he stretched his hand out towards Will, offering his fingers slick with your arousal. Without a second thought, Will leaned forward and captured his fingers in his mouth, tongue wrapping around his digits.
And that taste of you, saccharine on his tongue, sticking to his palate in all its glory, snapped something in him. He let out a low growl and pushed your hand away, his trousers and boxers soon falling to the floor in a heap.
Hannibal crouched once more behind you as Will pulled you forward, your eyes widening and mouth watering. At the same time that Hannibal buried his face in your cunt, you grasped Will’s erection, a glistening bead of precum on the tip.
Will leaned back against the kitchen island and you bent lower, sticking your tongue out and lapping up the precum. The taste of him was a bit sharp, but not unpleasant; salty and slightly musky. You hummed in approval, giving the underside of the head a teasing lick. His hand buried in your hair, guiding your head gently.
As you took him in your mouth, you moaned around his length. Hannibal was licking you in long, languid strokes, hands spreading you further open. Your legs twitched, but you were too wrapped up in the feel of Will’s cock sliding over your tongue. He shuttled it in and out slowly, reaching a little further every time. You hummed your pleasure continuously, the vibration of it adding to his own pleasure.
Will’s hips bucked and he grunted, eyes screwed shut and head thrown back in ecstasy. Then behind you, Hannibal picked up the pace, his tongue circling your clit as he inserted a finger into your cunt. Your whole body tensed, the movements of your head momentarily halting, and Will snapped to attention.
“Don’t make her come yet.” He snarled, a startling possessive edge to his tone.
Much to your chagrin, Hannibal acquiesced, pulling back, though his finger was still pumping in and out of you at a much slower pace. With a loud pop, you released his cock, drool sloppily dripping down your chin.
“Apologies, I got too carried away.” Hannibal panted, sounding quite smug at how he got you dripping for him. “I’ve seldom tasted something quite so divine. Sweet ambrosia, a feast worthy of the Gods.”
He withdrew completely, pulling you up with him. One hand came up to grip your neck just tight enough to keep you pinned; The other came up to palm your breast, thumb teasing your nipple. You growled in frustration, wiggling your hips.
“What’s that now?” Will taunted, stroking his length slowly – flicking his wrist just so… oh sweet torture! – his breath ragged. “Didn’t we agree to play nice earlier?”
“Oh, she’s being nice. Aren’t you, sweetness?” Hannibal purred, tilting your head to the side to meet his gaze. He looked much like you, lower half of his face glistening with an artful mess of your own creation. “Perhaps she deserves a taste.”
And he kissed you, tongue immediately parting your lips and tangling with your own. You tasted yourself on his lips, mixed in with his saliva, and it had an almost narcotic effect on you. Warmth spread throughout you, oblivion just at your fingertips. You were simply, utterly hooked.
He pulled away to toss his jacket to the side and then bound your hands behind your back with his tie. You heard him undo his trousers and you suppressed a shiver of anticipation. You kept your eyes on Will, the steady rhythm of his hand stroking himself hypnotizing you.
Then, you felt Hannibal’s cock line up with your entrance, the head of it barely slipping in. His low groan was in your ear and he dipped his head to nip your shoulder. You held your breath, eyes rolling to the back of your head as he plunged further into you, making sure you felt every inch.
When he was fully sheathed in you – your head swimming and barely able to tell where he ended and you began – your mouth slackened in pure, unadultered ecstasy.
“How angelic,” Will breahted, awed. “Look at the rapture in her eyes, gazing directly into Heaven.”
“How lucky… she had us to show her.” Hannibal panted.
Hannibal fucked you with a near surgical precision, his thrusts deep and unrelenting, knowing exactly what spots to hit to make you cry out. In fact, he guided himself by the sounds you made, adjusting quickly to whatever seemed to make you respond the most. His hand snaked down to your clit, stroking in time with his thrusts.
And he had to admit, you really did look like an angel in that moment, rosy cheeked, eyelashes thick with tears of overstimulation. Those undignified moans of yours were like a melody he would remember for days to come.
By the tight clench of your cunt, he knew you were right there, but as much as he wanted you to come all over his cock – anointing him with your cream, forever marking him – he knew he’d already been quite greedy with you. He wanted Will to have it; A gift to him.
The swap was almost seamless; one moment you were achingly empty, ready to claw the walls if you didn’t get your release soon. But then you were bent over the kitchen island, legs kicked apart, and Will filled you up in a single thrust.
The way he fucked you was wholly different. Will was more frantic, almost feral, all bared teeth and low growling. His hips slapped against yours loudly, his thrusts quick and almost punishing.
Your body was pure fire, a pillar of all consuming flame. You worried you would slip through their fingers if you weren’t held together tight enough.
Hannibal watched through the whole ordeal, stroking himself, though a part of you wished you could be doing it for him.
And suddenly, with a slight tilt of his hips, Will hit a certain spot inside of you that finally unraveled that tight coil in your stomach. With a keening wail, you stumbled into oblivion, shooting stars streaking in the darkness your eyelids.
Will was right there with you, the tight clench your cunt milking out his pleasure. He painted his design inside you, a messy, unabashed masterpiece.
After a couple more heartbeats, in which you listened to his grunts and ragged breathing, he pulled out of you, sticky warmth trickling down your inner thigh.
Hannibal undid the tie holding your hands, massaging your arms gently and kissing down your spine. He’d already cleaned himself of his own release, now intent on taking care of you. He turned you around and embraced you, wiping your damp hair away from your forehead.
You sagged against him, smiling beatifically, breathing heavily still. Your body still responded to his touch, but you were exhausted.
Will soon returned, already clean himself, with a soft towel in hand. He kneeled in front of you and cleaned you with the utmost care. Both of them looked at you reverently, like someone to worship.
“Well, out of all our times dining together, I have to say… this has been my favorite.” You sighed dreamily, voice still tremulous.
Hannibal chuckled. “Trust me, sweet angel, this won’t be the only time.”
And you were more than okay with that promise.
———
#will graham x reader#hannibal lecter x reader#will graham smut#hannibal lecter smut#hannibal fanfiction#will graham x fem!reader#hannibal lecter x fem!reader#hannigram x reader
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You've Been Gone So Long, Baby (Chapter Four)《Completed Series》
Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader
Summary: Matt had never let anyone so deep into his life until you. But when everything was going so perfectly, when he didn't think he could possibly be happier, he loses everything he loves in a single second–and he's absolutely powerless to fix it.
Warnings: 18+ for this series; contains heavy angst & delayed comfort until the end
Word Count: 1.8k
a/n: Another angsty chapter with no comfort. You can find the chapter list for this series here. Enjoy!
Year 3
"Hey Matty, I'm running a bit late. You remember how I said I was craving pasta?"
Matt was sitting at his desk a couple of hours past the time he usually left the office, braille papers spread across the surface for a case he'd been working overtime on with Foggy. He was rolling his sleeves up to his elbows as he heard your adorable laugh through his phone, a small smile slipping onto his face at the sound of it.
"Funny story actually. I was leaving work and I passed that diner again and don't hate me, but I needed the bacon cheeseburger. I know, I know. 'You’re eating another bacon cheeseburger again, baby?' you ask. Yes, Matty, my love. It’s called being pregnant. But don’t worry, I grabbed you that chicken caesar wrap you like there this time!"
He smiled wider at the sound of your voice trying to pacify him in the message. It was the third time that week you'd grabbed dinner for the both of you at that diner because neither of you had had time to cook. Work had been keeping both of you busy that week and you had offered to pick something up whenever you had gotten out of the office knowing how much he had been stressed that week.
"Blame your daughter. She clearly has a thing for bacon cheeseburgers. …and cheesecake. I may have grabbed cheesecake…"
A faint chuckle left him. You'd surprisingly shared the cheesecake with him that night.
"Okay, well I'm on my way back–oh, sorry!–and I should be home just after you get back. So I'll see you in a little bit my wonderful, handsome, overworked husband who is totally okay with another dinner from Graham's Diner again! I love you, Matty!"
The automated voice of Matt's voicemail came on next, reading out the timestamp of the next saved message on his phone. A faint smile still lingered across his mouth as he rested his elbows on his desk, his focus no longer on his work.
"Mr. Ellsworth!"
Matt laughed lightly at the sound of your over-excited voice once again coming through the speaker of his phone.
"Oh my God that was bothering me all day! The professor I was telling you about last night, his name was Mr. Ellsworth. I swear that man spent a few three hour lectures talking about just a single word from a sentence out of an entire book. I swear the guy next to me got a good nap in once every week just because of that class. Okay, anyway, not the reason I called."
Leaning further forward on his desk, Matt rested his chin in his hands. He closed his eyes and listened to your animated voice as you spoke. You always had been so lively, certainly a presence one could hardly ignore. And if he focused hard enough, sometimes he could listen to your old messages and trick himself into thinking he would come home from work to find you there, listening to something on the television while you finished making dinner. Maybe with a glass of orange juice for yourself–a craving you’d often had–and a beer ready for him. And then, after he had changed in the bedroom, he'd come out and wrap you in a hug, his hands cradling your baby bump as you made this sweet contented noise low in your throat, too quiet for anyone else to hear but him. And then you would turn in his arms and pull him into a kiss before asking how his day was. The two of you would enjoy dinner together before he would clean up while you rested your sore feet on the couch. Usually sex followed shortly after–pregnancy had made you quite insatiable in the bedroom, a perk Matt had certainly enjoyed.
"So I just stopped by to see Maggie on my way home. I wanted to have her over Friday night, remember? She said she’s looking forward to it and that you have the world’s greatest wife, but I’m guessing you already knew that.”
His smile widened, an ear turning closer to the speaker on his phone. Yes, he certainly had already known that.
“So don’t make Friday night Josie plans with Fog and everyone this week, okay? Just wanted to let you know! And also–” your voice dropped into something low and sultry, the tone of it raising the hair along Matt’s forearms even now, “–there’s an appetizer waiting for you in the bedroom when you get home. Hint: it’s me. See you real soon, Matty.”
Swallowing hard, he heard the automated voice once again abruptly cut through his office, the sound breaking through his efforts to pretend you were still here. It began reading off the next timestamp of the following saved message, Matt’s eyes opening as he frowned. If only he had more than your voice.
“Rise and shine sleepy Devil of mine! I ran out to grab coffee and pastries because you looked like you could use some cheering up after the night out you had last night. And apparently I was right, because somehow I managed to slip out of bed without waking you. Which is…honestly impressive. I’m impressed with myself. I’ve never managed that before. But I’ll be back soon–”
Three hesitant knocks came on Matt’s door and he jumped in his desk chair, realizing quickly that Foggy was now standing just inside his office. Matt reached out and picked up his phone, immediately saving the message before shifting his focus to Foggy who was tentatively making his way over to Matt’s desk.
“Hey, just checking in, man,” Foggy said. “It’s starting to get late so I was going to call it a night. Maybe you should, too.”
“Uh, yeah, I’ll just uh, gather my things,” Matt replied, forcing a smile onto his face. When Foggy didn’t move, he quickly added on, “You don’t have to wait for me, Fog. We both know I’ll get home safe.”
“Yeah, I know that,” Foggy said.
Matt began gathering up the scattered papers, but he was aware of the fact that Foggy was still standing there, adjusting the strap of his briefcase on his shoulder. Straightening the stack of papers he’d collected, he focused back on Foggy, raising his brows.
“Something else?” he asked.
“You were listening to her voicemails again,” Foggy pointed out.
Matt’s dark brows drew together, his hands gripping the stack of paper tighter. “Yes,” he answered.
“Don’t you think maybe you…shouldn’t?” Foggy asked him nervously.
Matt’s head tilted to the side, his senses scrutinizing his friend. He could hear the sudden uptick in Foggy’s heart, the increase in his body temperature, and he noted the way Foggy was now drumming his fingers nervously along the leather strap of his briefcase.
“Why?” Matt asked stiffly. “It’s all I really have left of her.”
“It’s just–it’s been almost three years, Matt,” Foggy said slowly. “Don’t you think maybe you should try to move forward? Try to date again?”
Slowly, Matt lowered the stack of papers back down to his desk. “She was my wife, Foggy. She still is,” he told him, a bitter edge to his words.
“But don’t you want to be happy again, man?” Foggy pressed, taking another step closer to his desk. “I mean, Matt, you’re like a shell of yourself. Ever since she disappeared. And I know I can’t possibly understand how you’re feeling and what you’re going through, but you’re just sitting and soaking in that pain and misery, man. Just marinating in it. Still listening to her old messages just to hear her voice. When are you going to try to live your life again? How long are you going to wait for her?”
Matt’s tongue slipped out between his lips, his focus shifting down towards his desk. Something sharp twisted in his chest at his best friend’s words. He knew he’d been tormenting himself over the past few years, still clinging to your small presence in his life in whatever way he could. Your clothes were still in his closet and taking up the left side of his dresser. That storage bin of baby items was still shoved in the left hand corner of his closet just underneath your blouses and skirts. He still bought your favorite coffee just so his apartment smelled like it always used to in the mornings whenever he brewed it now. And yes, he still listened to the six voicemails on his phone that he had of you. He wished he had more.
“I don’t know,” Matt whispered, the familiar threat of tears stinging at his eyes. “I don’t know, Foggy.”
“It’s not healthy, Matt,” Foggy said gently. “What you’re doing to yourself, it’s not healthy. You need to grieve and move forward. Move on with your life.”
“I–I don’t know if I can,” he confessed.
“You’ve never tried,” Foggy pointed out. “Maybe you should.”
Matt could feel his lips beginning to tremble at the thought of moving on. Of putting both of you in his past. Just like so many others before you he’d had to grieve the loss of, now he was supposed to grieve for both of you? Accept that you were…really gone? Never coming back?
“I don’t mean you need to go on a date this week or even this month,” Foggy continued carefully. “I know you’re not quite there yet. But maybe you should try to stop listening to her messages? Maybe…get rid of the television you bought only for her? Take down the wedding photos? Because even if you can’t see them, I know you know they’re there. At least put them in a drawer or your closet.”
Matt exhaled a trembling breath, his mouth feeling like it was going dry. Was it really time for him to try to move forward? Or at least consider the idea of it? The thought of that had a sick feeling rolling in his gut.
“Matt?” Foggy asked hesitantly. “You alright?”
He cleared his throat a couple of times, his hand reaching out and finding his glasses on his desk. “Yeah, Fog, I’m fine,” he said, pulling the glasses on. “I’ll uh, I’ll give it some thought.”
“Alright, buddy,” Foggy replied, taking a step back. “I’m going to get back before Marci wonders what’s taking so long. Make sure you get some rest, we have that meeting at eight sharp tomorrow morning, okay?”
Matt gave a stiff nod, a tight smile sliding across his face. As he listened to Foggy turn to leave, he couldn’t help but wonder if he had a point. It wasn’t healthy what he was doing to himself day after day, year after year. Maybe he did need to consider moving forward. But even just the thought of that had a few tears trailing down his cheeks.
#matt murdock x reader#matt murdock x you#matt murdock x fem reader#matt murdock series#matt murdock fic#matt murdock fanfic#daredevil x female reader#matt murdock angst
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「TO MAKE YOU PROUD」
anon request: Hi can you do one but it's not in any of your prompts, but its an eight female member ot7 of course it better if its an ot7 , so can you do where the female reader decided to take online classes but the guys dont know and when its time for her to graduate she tells the boys that theyre going somewhere but doesn't tell them where but when they get there it turns out its her graduation day. Thank you, i just found your account and i love the way you write 💜💜💜💜💜💜💜
pairing: bts x f!reader (platonic)
genre: crack!!!, fluff, a tiny bit of angst
warnings: university LOL
words: 2.8k
never let it be said that you didn't like being an idol.
you love how you bring smiles to fans and how your parents talk about you with pride, you especially love the second family you found within your members
you love bts, perhaps more than anything else
although you receive a great amount of love from those around you, the anxiety to live up to those standards accompanies you like a shadow
that brings you to here: your computer light illuminating your face and graham cracker crust on your lips at an hour you should definitely not be up at, staring at one tiny little button that could change your life (you like being dramatic)
now, you have performed on more stages than you can count; given plenty of interviews and have embarrassed yourself a multitude of times in front of millions of people
nothing compares to the nerves you feel as your cursor hovers over the tiny blue button that glares back at you mockingly
'ENROLL'
who knew that one word could be so scary?
never let it be said that you didn't like making people proud, either.
you hit the button and slam your laptop closed, trying not to wake up your groupmates as you muffle a scream into your pillow
you really should've slept like namjoon told you to hours ago
~*~
you were being weird, and the maknaes could practically smell it
on one occasion they actually did. you smelled like you hadn't taken a shower in four days and you definitely looked like it too. was the extended break the company had given bts getting to you?
on your side, you were determined to keep the college classes you signed up for in the degen hours a secret, but damn. your professors made it really hard when they all decided to collectively assign three papers and a test at once
it had been roughly a month since they've started, and you wanted to die
idol training? a piece of cake compared to whatever fresh hell your professors conjured up. did they like torturing you?
what they said in their comments on your past assignments pointed to a boldly printed, neon colored: 'YES'
as you started to drink your fourth coffee of the day, trying to stay coherent enough even though it was only one pm in the afternoon, the maknaes decided to confront you about... whatever has happening to you
jungkook slid inconspicuously into the seat next to you at the dining table and blinked at you with those damn doe eyes
"so... whatcha up too?"
you almost snort your coffee in his face.
jimin, taehyung, and jungkook all look at each other worriedly
"do you need to see a therapist y/n? we know being on break for the first time in a while can be hard, but you really don't look too good." jimin says like the sweetheart he is
before you can reply, a ding from your phone grabs your attention and you look at it only to see the new gut-wrenching comment your writing teacher made on your 'side-effects of the fame of idol life' paper
'i like the enthusiasm, but you almost seem to be invested to the point of being pushy. stop that.'
you whine and slowly lower your head to the table in a dull 'thump'
teahyung sends a text to the group therapist
~*~
it has been about six months since you have started to take online classes, and you like to think that you have gotten marginally better at covering up the lack of sleep and the effect the comments your professors (which honestly, they must be out to get you personally) have on you
your schedule had been resuming as normal starting a few weeks ago and you already missed the blessed days of nothing to worry about except the brutality of college
as you go to put on concealer, you find the bottle suspiciously empty. have the maknaes used your makeup again? (you refuse to believe that you had used the whole bottle that you had only bought two weeks ago)
as you slink into yoongi's room, looking just as tired as you feel, to steal some of his makeup (which will eventually send him into stealing jin's and then from jin to jimin and so on until namjoon has enough and forces you all to get your shit together), he is typing something on his phone with his back to you
"yoongi-ah, i need to makeup"
then he turns around and startles because why do you look like that
yes, why indeed
"you look terrible"
you stare blankly at him and then turn on your heels, "ok, thank you. bye."
he sighs at the ever-persistent pain-in-his-ass that is you and turns you around, genuine worry in his eyes; asking silent questions and giving soft reassurances in case there was anything you needed to get off your chest
you almost tear up because how did you become so lucky
you haven't had your first coffee yet and you get sensitive and squishy when you're tired
once again, you question why you decided to put yourself through this
why do people pay to go through a personalized hell of their own making?
anyways
apparently, you get all broody without sleep as well
you realize you have been staring at yoongi for a few minutes without saying anything, looking like you have no thoughts, head empty
hoseok bursts into the room with all the decorum of a cracked-up butterfly and announces that breakfast is ready
he looks at you and does a double take
"woah."
your forehead meets your palm
yoongi sighs and drags hobi out of the room, "two shots of expresso?"
"add three" you say miserably
another therapist visit you have earned, you realize, as you get the notification that yoongi added it to your calendar
~*~
you skip into dance practice with a beaming smile on your face and practically throw yourself onto hoseok, and because he's hoseok he catches you and twirls you around
for the first time since starting your courses, your excited demeanor isn't caused by enough expresso to kill a small hippo
it's your one-year anniversary! you are halfway there to your degree!
you thank the god that is your mother for forcing you to take all those fancy advanced classes when you were in high school
the urge to actually scream "yippee!" like a cartoon character is surprisingly overwhelming and who are you to deny yourself?
"yippee!"
and because the guys are endlessly supportive, they chime into whatever you're celebrating without even knowing what the hell they are congratulating you for
they have long since gotten used to your strange habits and have learned to play along
i mean, what the hell, right? supporting you in whatever crazed manic episode that has been ongoing for the past 12 months is the least they can do for you
(your therapist said to be supportive)
god decided to give you a call and you answer it without hesitation while still being awkwardly held up by hobi. "hi, mom"
you pat his back to let you down, give him a fist bump, and then leave the room exactly like you came in it
"did she have her mom's contact as god?"
~*~
you, like the past year and half, feel like crying.
it's about that time when you have to start your senior project as an 'accelerated student'
whatever that means
you basically have to come up with a thesis and write a paper on it pertaining to your major, in which usually you would get two years to do
like an idiot, you have six months because you didn't start it when you first started classes
(you would like to see someone else try to balance college and being a world-wide famous idol, okay?)
so, here you are at one am, holding a bottle of apple juice to sooth your inner child, and some flavor blasted goldfish, trying not to cry your eyes out over the blank document that you have been staring at for over ten minutes
you take a deep breath, put your apple juice down, rub you hands together, smack your face, and then force yourself to write down something, anything
'music'
that's how far you get before your phone rings, and because luck is never on your side, you see namjoon's contact who is probably going to tell you to go to bed for the third time
you answer and before he even says anything, your eye's tear up
"joonie..." you whisper, sounding all too much like the sleep deprived child you are
because he is essentially your father, he picks up on it immediately
"y/n-ah," he sighs, because this has become a common occurrence, "what do you need help with?"
"everything," you blubber miserably
so, namjoon stays on the phone with you until four am (even though he is literally down the hall, but he is 'too cozy to move'), helping you come up with a draft thesis statement and introduction you were supposed to turn into your teacher a year ago, and because he is the best person ever! (you change that to his contact) he doesn't ask why you need help writing a thesis, as they know you won't tell them what you've been doing
you both walk into the kitchen the next morning looking, and feeling, like sacks of shit
"uhm." is the eloquent response jimin gives to the look the both of you have on your faces
jin wordlessly hands you both coffee with too much expresso and kisses your foreheads because he is amazing and he hopes it will hold you two together until at least the meeting with the staff is over
you and namjoon's phones go off with a ding! at the same time, and you both have matching therapy appointments
yay! the lunacy is spreading!
~*~
you are in the home stretch
you can smell it, feel it, even fucking taste it
and as you hover over the finally for-the-love-of-god-get-this-paper-out-of-my-fucking-face-thesis submit button, you countdown to yourself like an astronaut about to take off
"three, two, one..." you take a deep breathe, "lift off!" you hit the button
as soon as it says upload complete, you cry tears of joy
victory has never tasted so fucking sweet in your life (although maybe that was the cosmic brownie you had a few minutes ago)
~*~
within the next week, you talk to management about letting the boys attend your graduation ceremony and of course management says yes (they knew you were taking classes, even though you didn't tell them. talk about scary corporate companies knowing your every move)
and when the day arrives when you finally get your diploma, you are more nervous than you've been since your debut
the boys are a big reason why you've decided to pursue your education, and even if they didn't know it, you wouldn't have been able to make it without them
you aren't one to be sentimental, but you kinda want to cry at just how much you feel
you made it. achieved one of your dreams, not only for you, but for them.
you take a deep breath and you let the sense of fulfillment take over your heart and you let it sit there
your phone goes off, and it's the management telling you that the graduation event is ready, and that in kahoots with the online school you attended, they are ready to have the ceremony
"ok boys! time to roll out!" you scream, even though they have all sitting in the living room ready for thirty minutes because you made sure they would be ready by the time you had to go
"y/n, can you please tell us where we are going?" teahyung asks as he links arms with you
"nope!" you chirp, and because you are mean you add, "it's a surprise!"
jungkook comes up to link his other arm in yours, "does this have anything to with how you've been acting for a while?"
damn, he really is the golden maknae
you are suspiciously silent and everyone is suddenly weary of where you are taking them
you weren't going to murder them in a fit of hysteria, right?
but looking at your smiling and blushing face, they all can't help but smile with you and trust
the ride to the venue is only about fifteen minutes and you can't help but be excited and talk animatedly with your members
you almost spill the beans about where you're going but manage to not give too much away (barely, you kind of think the franticness is due to caffeine withdrawal)
before you know it, the eight of you are pulling up into the parking lot and the others look out with perplexed frowns on their faces
you look at them with a smile, "you trust me, yeah?"
they look to you and grin, "always."
you all walk in and when you get inside the venue hallways, you split from the group and manager sejin (just barely) corrals the boys forward without you
you run to get ready and put on your cap and gown, and you have to take another deep breath when you look at yourself in the mirror, because wow. if you knew a graduation gown would look this good you would have graduated college a long time ago
(you only just manage to keep the tears from ruining your makeup)
when the boys enter into a private room and see all of the other people sitting down in the stadium seats, their first thought is that you are holding some sort of surprise concert or something. they honestly don't have any idea what you are going to do, and they joke about how you are going to perform a magic show or some other equally ludicrous event
the lights dim and all of their attention is on the empty chairs sitting in the middle of the auditorium, and then all of a sudden a spotlight shines onto the graduates who walk in from the side entrance
speakers start to blast the school anthem (not that they know that) as the graduates make their way to their seats and boys gasp when they see you on the big screen
"is that-?"
"no fucking way."
"what is she doing?"
because there you are, flashing a peace sign and sticking your tongue out to the camera man who's broadcasting it to the big screen, walking to your designated chair
you will always and forever be a dork
they all laugh incredulously and can't help but have to sit down in shock
none of them can speak as the principal of the school introduces the class of 2023 graduates. he goes through what the school stands for and blah blah blah
when the time finally comes where you have to line up and get your diploma's, namjoon, hoseok, seokjin, and jungkook are crying, yoongi hides his smile behind his hands, and teahyung and jimin has ceased to function as they watch on, barely able to breathe
they all hold their breath as you finally walk up on to the stage and shake the principals hand
"y/n l/n, 2023 graduate with a degree in the arts of music writing and production"
the boys have never cheered so loudly in their life, and you swore you could hear them from your spot up on stage
you smile so big and wide and take a second to stand on the stage and bow, and the boys who weren't crying before definitely are now
its all a blur as you make it off of the stage and ushered into the private room the boys are in. you don't even make it three steps in before you are surrounded on all sides
"i can't believe you did this."
"y/n, you're amazing."
"i knew you weren't just going crazy."
there are voices all around you. some are laughing, some are praising you, all are crying
jin pulls you from the group in a hug that lifts your feet off the floor, "is this why you manhandled me into making you so much food the last few days?"
you laugh and whip at your eyes, "yeah, i wanted to have a good dinner when we got home" he sets you down and pulls you into his side with an arm around your shoulder
"i am so, so proud of you." he whispers into your hair
taehyung comes up on your other side and hugs you around the waist, "we all are"
your eyes tear up and before you know it you are wailing like a baby again
"i love you guys more than anything in the world," you whine out, a blubbering mess
they all smile and make fun of you, and there is nothing that can beat the feeling that wells up in your chest
never let it be said you don't like making people proud
later, a horrendously ugly photo of you crying with the guys all around you is uploaded to all of your social medias and your face is made into a meme, but, hey, you made it out alive, and that's all that mattered
(even if you did have to see a therapist)
[end]
a/n: what better way to jumpscare ya'll with an update other than with crack? but in all seriousness, i am so so so sorry this was so late anon! you've waited literal years, and i would write an ao3-usque excuse but i don't even deserve it ;( as always, i hope you guys have an amazing week, and i love you bunches (please imagine that in a skrunkly old grandma voice) ♡♡♡
masterlist!
request something!
(pls, for the love of everything holy, check the request status first!)
#bts#bts fanfic#bts x reader#bts ot7 x reader#kim namjoon#kim taehyung#min yoongi#kim seokjin#jung hoseok#park jimin#jeon jungkook#bts fluff#bts crack#jungkook x reader#taehyung x reader#jimin x reader#namjoon x reader#hoseok x reader#yoongi x reader#seokjin x reader#bts v#bts suga#bts jungkook#bts rm#bts jimin#bts jin
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You & Me - Rhys Montrose x Reader - Part 6
Part 5 | Part 7
Summary: What happens when reader assassin is tasked with killing the possible future mayor of London; Rhys Montrose. Politician by day, Eat the Rich Killer by night. But he isn’t the only person wearing different masks.
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Violence, murder, immoral sociopathic behaviour, mentions of alcoholism, drug abuse and neglect, (eventual) smut
Word count: 3.1k
A/N: (spoilers!) at the end.
Song: …Ready For It? – Taylor Swift
“What happened?” You asked, following your little quip.
When Rhys didn’t immediately answer and instead turned back around to walk towards the door, you stood up.
“Rhys, tell me, what did you do?” You demanded.
The mention of his name made him stop in his tracks and he shot you a look over his shoulder.
“It’s better to show you.” And with that he disappeared behind the door. You frowned, hearing some scuffling.
Next thing you knew, Rhys was hauling an unconscious man into the prison cell. He dropped the stranger next to another set of chains and shackled him. You watched in quiet amazement, but none the less you were growing slightly concerned.
“Who the hell is that?”
Rhys straightened after he made sure the man was securely tied up.
“Roald Walker-Burton,” Rhys informed you. At your puzzled expression and raised eyebrow, he explained, “I found him in the woods going after our professor. I’m going to pin my latest murder on him.”
“What do you mean? Who did you kill?”
“Gemma Graham-Greene,” he specified, providing you with yet another one percenter’s name. “She caught me in Kate Galvin’s room as I was cloning her phone. Kate is Lockwood’s daughter.”
You knew that Kate was Lockwood’s daughter, but what you didn’t know was why Rhys would want to clone her phone. The two had no relationship, so how was involving his daughter going to help Rhys get closer to Lockwood? It was like Rhys could read your mind because he answered you before you even posed your next question.
“Kate is the one refraining from any type of relationship between her and her father. But that doesn’t mean Lockwood doesn’t consistently try. He’s desperate to get in touch with her. Now that I’ve successfully cloned her phone, we can monitor her incoming and outgoing texts, as well as send a text on her behalf.”
“Why are you so adamant on doing this now? You can’t just simply kill him like the others, it would be too conspicuous,” you told him like it was obvious. And it was.
Rhys sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He looked from you to Roald, then back to you. Something settled in his eyes, like he made a decision.
He walked over and stopped right in front of you, the height difference forcing you to lift your chin to steadily meet his gaze. Rhys was so close to you that you could feel his breath fanning over your cheek. The proximity allowed you to observe the deep ocean blue of his irises.
You held your breath when you felt Rhys’ hands gently enveloping your still shackled wrists, his thumbs caressing the back of your hands in a soothing pattern.
“I had to act now. Soon, he will find out that I’m not dead, and when he does, he will come for you. For us both,” he amended. The concern in his eyes was genuine and you were speechless for a moment. Never before had someone cared for your well-being like this — resolved to protect you from the dangers lurking in the shadows of this cruel world.
“We need to be ready when that happens. Or preferably prevent it from happening altogether. I’d rather be the hunter than the prey, don’t you?” He asked rhetorically. Of course you’d agree with that.
But still, the mention and use of we unsettled you. Did you want this? This unorthodox partnership with a dangerous man you barely even knew. You still weren’t sure, your previous doubts not yet settled.
“What makes you think I won’t kill you the second I get the chance?”
At that he slowly leaned in, his lips faintly brushing the shell of your ear before whispering, “Because we both know you don’t really want to.”
You felt the hair on your body stand up as you tried to suppress a shiver at the feeling of his body heat and the sultry tone of his voice hitting you somewhere deep. Rhys chuckled as he moved back, looking you in the eye as he slowly nodded to himself. “That’s what I thought.”
The sound of chains rattling and a painful groan shook you both out of your little moment, making you simultaneously turn to look in the direction of Roald. He was waking up. You caught Rhys’ expression hardening out of the corner of your eye, his impenetrable mask slipping back in place. You suppressed another shiver.
Thus far you hadn’t witnessed this look before — the stone-cold expression of a vicious killer who was capable of wreaking great havoc. Again, you knew that seeing this side of him should scare you away. But the opposite was true. This juxtaposition to how he was with you just a second ago when his thumb was softly stroking your hand, fascinated you.
Rhys fully let go of your wrists then and stepped away from you, moving towards Roald as if he was circling his prey. In a way you supposed he was. Roald’s eyes fluttered and when he opened them fully, clocking Rhys standing over him with that murderous expression, he immediately recoiled, instinctively sensing the threat the man posed to his life.
“Rhys,” Roald swallowed audibly. “What is the meaning of all this, mate?”
Roald’s eyes were wild as he took in his surroundings. When he noticed you standing near the opposite wall, also shackled, you thought the fear that overtook him could potentially make him go into cardiac arrest. You canted your head to the side, curious to see what Rhys’ play would be.
Rhys had told you that he was going to pin his latest murder on Roald. But you still had no clue as to why Rhys had chosen him to be the scapegoat. Let alone how he was going to achieve it.
“You were wrong about Jonathan, Roald,” Rhys began. “He isn’t the killer.”
Rhys waited for that information to land. Roald looked more frightened by the minute. “But,” he stammered. “I saw Jonathan moving Gemma’s body.”
“That doesn’t mean he’s responsible for her death,” Rhys answered.
Professor Moore was involved somehow, too? You grew more and more impatient with these breadcrumbs of information you received. “Can someone please tell me what the fuck happened back there?”
Both men turned to look at you. Roald looked as if he was about to shit himself whilst Rhys’ expression visibly softened the moment his eyes landed on you.
“Of course, Y/N,” Rhys assured. “As I was telling you before, Gemma interrupted me cloning Kate’s phone. I admit I could’ve persuaded her that it was all a big misunderstanding, but frankly, she was getting on my nerves. Besides, I had initially planned to kill her during our stay here anyway, before you showed up,” he explained casually, waving a nonchalant hand.
You nodded, quietly processing the information. Still, you wondered why he had wanted to target her. Evidently you weren’t the only person in the room questioning this because once more Roald made his presence known as he hesitantly asked, “Why Gemma?”
Rhys whipped his head around to face Roald again, making him flinch at the suddenness. Privately it made you snicker. The poor man really was ostensibly shitting himself. Understandably so, you mused. Rhys was openly disclosing all of this information in front of Roald, making you predict that his time left on earth was dwindling with every passing minute.
“Why Malcolm? Why Simon? Why would I, aspiring mayor of London, kill them?” Rhys responded. “It’s very simple, dear Roald. They were all becoming a liability.”
Rhys crouched down next to Roald as if he was about to carefully explain it in a way you’d do to a child. Except this was no child’s play.
“Malcolm was blackmailing me over my not-so-little gambling habit,” he started, chuckling a little as he reminisced. “Simon’s exploitation of women was about to leak. Couldn’t be associated.”
You listened carefully, marvelling a little at this insight he hadn’t previously given to you. This was what you meant when you had made the teasing comment about his book. You wanted him to confess, to further explain in detail why he killed people — to understand the man’s inner workings. It was not so different from how he sought to figure out your reasonings, your surmised.
Whilst Rhys had gone off apparently causing bloody chaos, you’d bitterly grabbed his memoir, curiosity winning. You’d thumbed through the book, committing the most important details to memory such as his shitty childhood, his ‘former’ tendencies for violence, and of course his failed marriage. But also, how he’d seemingly had an epiphany when his mother passed that made him turn his life around. It had led him to where he is today — a young but already accomplished politician with far-reaching ambitions. You wondered how much of the story was true and how much came forth from artistic licensing. For starters, his violent tendencies were definitely not gone.
“Now, Gemma,” Rhys drawled, grimacing theatrically. “Drunken shag, or four, back when I was still married. She was bound to open that big hole in her face at some point — embarrass me, fuck my image, ruin my campaign.”
You slightly frowned, not expecting that. Even so, who were you to judge? Honestly, the men you’d been with were arguably just as awful. But they served their one and only purpose, which was to make you forget about your problems and your life for a moment with the grandest medicine of all — orgasmic bliss.
Roald clearly wasn’t so understanding. He looked appalled as he weakly muttered something under his breath.
“What was that?” Rhys prompted, leaning forward a little.
“You’re sick,” Roald repeated with a shaky voice.
Rhys looked amused. “I prefer practical.”
When he straightened back up again, he turned to you. You were already watching him as he tried to gauge your reaction to all of this. He quickly noticed you were silently taking in all the information, not a single judgmental look present in your features. It encouraged him to continue, refocusing his attention on Roald once more. But you knew that you were really the intended audience here.
“They were in my way, and now that they’re not, I need this Eat the Rich story over. It’s become such a distraction from the good I’m trying to do for this city.”
Ah, this is where it would get interesting.
“And so that’s where you come in, mate.” Roald looked confused, clearly not following where this was going.
Rhys heaved an exasperated sigh, turning around to face you. “Do you see what I’ve been dealing with all of these years?”
A giggle escaped you. You couldn’t help it. Roald dazedly looked from Rhys to you, trying to figure out what the hell your deal was.
“Y/N, would you mind explaining to dear old Roald here what’s going to happen to him,” Rhys requested. “And please do it slowly and clearly, otherwise he might still not understand,” he added, shooting you a conspiratorial smile.
You returned the smile before facing Roald who now looked at you like you were a ghost colluding with his worst nightmare.
“You’re going to die,” you said factually. “And then you’ll be blamed for the murders.”
Roald started to protest but in an instant Rhys was there, clasping a strong hand over his mouth, shushing him.
“She’s right, Roald. Now, we can do this the easy way or the hard way. Your choice. But for fuck’s sake, please don’t start screaming. No one will be able to hear you except for us. And I promise you that neither of us will grant you any kind of mercy.”
Roald’s eyes widened, his body frozen in shock as he was staring into the face of a monster.
“Understood?” Roald could only shakily nod in response. “Fantastic.”
Rhys got up and walked over to the darkest corner of the prison cell where he had deposited your gun and knives earlier. “Do you mind?” He asked your permission as he walked back over, holding your weapons in both his hands. It was evidently another one of his rhetorical questions so you simply answered with, “please, be my guest.”
“Thank you, kindly,” he beamed whilst he put down your things on that uncomfortable chair he had lounged on before during your chat. In the meantime, Roald was staring at you, wide eyes pleading with you to do something to stop this maniac from killing him. You answered his pitiful request by glancing down at your own shackled wrists and shrugging your shoulders.
You had no reason to help him. Not one at all. Frankly, you’d rather the privileged man-child would die. When Rhys told you his name, you recognised him. You remembered reading headlines about him. Let’s say they weren’t all that positive. He wasn’t evil, but the world was also not benefitting from his existence. So, you really felt no urgency to help him out now. Especially since you had already accepted the futility of the situation, which apparently Roald hadn’t yet.
Rhys claimed your attention when he suddenly walked over to you, his right hand holding a key. Your eyes were glued to it as he approached you. When he stood in front of you, you searched his eyes. Did he trust you enough to let you go? Even when you had more or less threatened him earlier that you would kill him the first chance you got. Unbidden, his words echoed through you — we both know you don’t really want to. Your lips parted as you stared at each other, your heart beating so loudly in your ears you swore he could hear it as well.
He frowned slightly when the sound of the shackles’ lock opening could be clearly heard in the tiny space between the two of you. Rhys slipped the metal off your wrists and moved cautiously to drop the shackles on the bed behind you. You took an unsteady breath before biting your lower lip. This was it. This was the moment to strike.
And yet.
Yet.
When you didn’t act, Rhys visibly relaxed, the tension in the line of his shoulders dissipating. You glanced down at your wrists as you rubbed them, relieved at the lack of restraint. Why weren’t you attacking? Why weren’t you holding him in a head-lock down on the floor right now, squeezing his windpipe until it cracked? You didn’t know. Or did you?
Had the promises that he’d made you successfully unearthed some secret desire within you? Was his offer irresistible? Was he?
You looked back up and Rhys was already watching you. He shot you a coy smile and slowly reached out to touch your arm, light fingertips moving up and down. It felt like reassurance. Not just for you, but for him as well. You were both taking a massive gamble right now — essentially choosing to take a giant leap of faith and trust each other. It was unknown territory you had to explore together. Taking it one step at a time.
“What do you propose?” He asked, cocking his head to indicate he was talking about Roald. You reeled a little. Equals, you reminded yourself. Rhys patiently awaited your answer.
“I assume you want to stage a suicide?” You guessed.
“I’ve already got the note written,” he confirmed cheekily.
You grinned. “Of course, you do.”
Roald stumbled as he tried to get up, his ears perking at the mention of suicide. Was it finally coming through to him that he was meeting his creator before the hour was up?
“You can’t— you can’t do this. Please, I beg you,” he wailed.
You and Rhys both turned to him. Rhys let go of your arm as he walked over to retrieve your loaded gun. Roald’s frantic behaviour only increased and he moved back as far as possible, hitting the wall hard.
“Please, please,” he begged, tears flowing freely now.
Rhys looked at you and you gave him a slight nod, silently conveying it was okay for him to use your gun. It was untraceable and also not the only one you owned.
He took off the silencer that you had attached last night. There was no point in using a silencer. Rhys had already claimed no one could hear you down here. Besides, killing yourself with a silencer didn’t exactly advocate a suicide.
Rhys cocked the gun, slowly making his way over to the petrified shell of a man. A look passed over Roald’s face. “You’re really do-doing this?” He trembled, sliding down to the floor. Rhys hummed affirmatively, crouching down in front of him in the same calm manner as before.
“Any last words you want to grace us with?”
Now, perhaps due to the realisation that these truly were his final moments, anger slowly but surely engulfed him. There was no point in playing the pitiful victim anymore. He clenched his jaw and leaned forward menacingly, but still with fear clearly written all over his face. “Fuck you,” Roald spat. “And fuck that bitch of yours who–”
Roald didn’t get to finish that sentence. Remnants of his brain and skull now covering the moulded wall behind him. The moment Roald dared to insult you, something inside Rhys had snapped. He unapologetically forced the gun’s muzzle to Roald’s temple and without a moment of hesitation pulled the trigger.
You panted a little, taking in the gruesome sight before you. Blood and clots of brain matter were scattered around the body. Rhys slowly stood up from his crouched position. He didn’t move a single muscle as he stood there, hovering over Roald’s remains. You swallowed before walking up to him.
You inspected the mess up close. Instead of doubling over and retching, you carefully analysed the situation and the positioning of the body, making mental notes on what you had to do to stage this a convincing suicide. It wouldn’t be difficult. Luckily Rhys had a clear enough mind during his violent outburst to shoot Roald in the temple instead of point blank.
Speaking of Rhys, you felt him watching you from where he stood beside you. You glanced over, noting he was still holding the gun but his grip had loosened a little. Your eyes scanned his blood-covered face. The creases in his forehead slowly smoothed out when he noticed your soft look of concern for him. You pulled down the sleeves of your thin sweater over your hands and Rhys regarded you with half-lidded eyes as you reached over and wordlessly took the gun from his gloved hand.
“Let’s get to work,” you said.
It shook Rhys out of his trance. He inclined his head, his signature smirk coming back to him. He knew it. And so did you. You’d made your choice — to stay.
––––
A/N: PART 6!!! They’re officially teaming up now!! (Or are they????...) I couldn’t help but add in a little ‘don’t talk to my s/o in that way or I will kill you’ (literally). I’m only human. Anyhow, next part will mark their return to London, and buckle up everyone because the drama hasn’t even truly started yet.
#rhys montrose x reader#rhys montrose x female reader#rhys montrose fanfic#rhys montrose fic#rhys montrose#you netflix#you season 4#you season 4 canon divergence#jonathan moore#joe goldberg#goldrose#ed speleers#rhys montrose x original female character#on ao3#you and me
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fanfic characters x reader
I would also write fanfics about the actors (they are mostly the ones playing the characters on the list)
Here is my list:
Harry Potter:
Severus Snape:
Remus Lupin
Sirius Black
Barty Crouch Jr.
Bellatrix Lestrange
Lucius Malfoy
Character I'm not sure I do:
Fred Weasley
George Weasley
Draco Malfoy
Harry Potter
Hermione Granger
Tom Riddle
Regulus Black
Fantastic Beasts:
Albus Dumbledore
Gellert Grindelwald
Minerva McGonagall
Lord Percival Graves
Hogwarts Legacy:
Phineas Nigellus Black
Sebastian Sallow
Aesop Sharp
Mirabel Garlick
Ominis Gaunt
Grand Theft Auto:
Michael De Santa
Trevor Philips
Franklin Clinton
Niko Bellic
Steve Haines
Lester Crest
Agent 14
Naruto:
Kakashi Hatake
Naruto Uzumaki
Sasuke Uchiha
Tsunade
Jiraya
Minato Namikaze
Gaara
Tobirama Senju
Senju Hashirama
Inuzuka Hana
Mitarashi Anko
Darui
Kushina Uzumaki
Kiba Inuzuka
Uchiha Shisui
Yujito Nii
Ôtsutsuki Indra
Ôtsutsuki Asura
Uchiha Obito
Mei Temurî
Boruto:
Naruto Uzumaki
Sasuke Uchiha
Mitsuki
Kawaki
Boruto Uzumaki
Konoha-Maru Sarutobi
Sakura Haruno
Jujutsu Kaisen:
Yuji Itadori
Utahime Iori
Masamichi Yaga
Inumaki Toge
Okkotsu Yûta
Sheko Ieiri
Yuki Tsukumo
Uraume
Toji Fushiguro
Gong Shi Woo
Atsuya Kusakabe
Ieri Shôko
Zenin Mai
Zenin Maki
Choso
Gojo Satoru
Megumi Fushiguro
Ryomen Sukuna
Mei Mei
Kento Nanami
Assassination Classroom:
Tadaomi Karasuma
Irina Jelavic
Koro Sensei (human)
One piece:
Shanks
Portgas D.Ace
Don Quijote Doflamingo
Roronoa Zoro
Sanji Vinsmoke
Coby
Trafalgar Law
Sabo
Marvel:
Agatha Harkness
Hela
Natasha Romanoff
Tony Stark
Yelena Belova
Loki Laufeyson
Sylvie Laufeydottir
Matt Murdock
May Parker
Scott Lang
Shang Chi
Stephen Strange
Thena
Wanda Maximoff
Xu Wenwu
Marc Spector
Steven Grant
Wednesday:
Larissa Weems
Morticia Addams
Lucifer:
Lucifer Morningstar
Chloe Decker
Mazikeen Smith
Amenadiel
Charlotte Richards
Aurora (Rory) Morningstar
Michael
Sandman:
The Corinthian
Lucifer Morningstar
Desire
Johanna Constantine
Bleach:
Ichigo Kurosaki
Sousuke Aizen
Kuchiki Buyakuya
Coyote Stark
Resident Evil:
Leon S. Kennedy
Chris Redfield
Ashley Graham
Ethan Winters
Carlos Oliveira
Helena Harper
Rosemary Winters
Alcina Dimitrescu
Cassandra Dimitrescu
Daniela Dimitrescu
Bela Dimitrescu
Star Wars:
Kylo Ren
Captain Phasma
Din Djarin
Poe Dameron
Valorant:
Chamber
Viper
Reyna
Omen
La Casa De Papel:
Berlin
El Professor
Suárez
My Hero Academia:
Dabi
Shota Aizawa
Nemuri Kayama
Todoroki Shôto
Toga Himiko
Shimura Nana
Chisaki Kai
Attack on titan:
Hanji Zoe
Levi Ackerman
Annie Leonhart
Mikasa Ackerman
Pirates of the caribbean:
Jack Sparrow
Elizabeth Swann
Sweeney Todd:
Sweeney Todd
Mrs. Lovett
Judge Turpin
The Witcher:
Geralt Of Rivia
Yennefer of Vengerberg
Ciri
Kaamelott:
Arthur Pendragon
Léodagan
Bohort
Yvain
Gauvain
Ygerne
Elias de Kelliwic’h
Spy X Family
Loid Forger
Yor Forger
Castlevania
Dracula
Leon Belmont
Alucard
Trevor Belmont
Richard Belmont
Tera
Five Nights at Freddy’s
William Afton
Michael Schmidt
Vanessa Shelly
Satsuriku no Tenshi
Isaac Foster
Haikyuu!!
Yū Nishinoya
Tobio Kageyama
Tetsurō Kuroo
Fugou Keiji: Balance:UNLIMITED
Daisuke Kambe
Haru Katou
Ryo Hosino
Owari no Seraph
Guren Ichinose
Mikaela Hyakuya
Ferid Bathory
Crowley Eusford
Kureto Hiragi
Shinya Hiragi
Horn Skuld
Chess Belle
Rokudenashi Majutsu Koushi to Akashic Records
Glenn Radars
Sistine Fibel
Celica Arfonia
Albert Frazer
Domestic na Kanojo
Hina Tachibana
Rui Tachibana
Masaki Kobayashi
Reiji Kiriya
My new boss is Goofy
Shirosaki Yusei
Mitsuo Aoyama
Kinjo Aigo
Buddy Daddies
Kugi Kyûtarô
Suwa Rei
Kurusu Kazuki
Unasaka Misaki
Other characters
Sakata Gintoki from Gintama
Brienne of Tarth from Game of Thrones by Gwendoline Christie
Hans Gruber from Die Hard by Alan Rickman
Sinclair Bryant from Close my eyes by Alan Rickman
Miranda Hilmarson from Top of the Lake by Gwendoline Christie
Charlie Harper from My Uncle Charlie by Charlie Sheen
Isaac Foster from Angels of Deaths
Link from The Legend Of Zelda
Cereza from Bayonetta
Leonora Lesso from School for Good and Evil by Charlize Theron
Elaine Markinson from Gringo by Charlize Theron
Hannibal Lecter from Hannibal by Mads Mikkelson
Miss Perergrine from Miss Peregrine’s Home for Particular Children by Eva Green
Joel Miller from The Last Of Us by Pedro Pascal
Mr.Cat from Kaeloo
Michael Afton from Five Nights at Freddy’s
Marc from Le Flambeau by Jonathan Cohen
John Wick from John Wick’s movies by Keanu Reeves
Joe Goldberg from You by Penn Badgley
Crowley from Good Omens by David Tennant
Max Black from 2 Broke girls by Kat Dennings
Tobias from Ghost
#harry potter#severus snape#hermione granger#draco malfoy#howgarts#the witcher#sweeney todd#alan rickman#ghost#young royals#john wick#five nights at freddy's#good omens#the last of us#hannibal#miss peregrine imagine#zelda#others#etc
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Apartments
Karl jacobs x reader
Slow burn from roommates to lovers, because idk man. As slow burn as you can make a oneshot.
Tw: reader is selectively mute, and is touch averse. Panic attacks and night terrors are described as well, negative self talk and abandonment issues.
Excuse any weirdness with this, I based the selective mutism loosely on what I’ve experienced
You saw all the people around campus laughing, talking, having fun. You knew that wasn’t for you, people just never took time to understand. They didn’t have patience to wait for you to croak out some small words, or write a note. So you stopped. You did your college assignments, emailed your professors, and didn’t speak, except to the professors, and sometimes the counselor. Speaking requires trust. Trust in an individual to have patience, to wait until you are ready. It was something you learned nobody had time for.
You didn’t like roommates for this reason. They always tried to pry you to talk too early, they knew you could, they’d seen you talk to professors, so why not them? They would get frustrated, and irritable. It wasn’t their fault, not really. You just…you just couldn’t speak. If they allowed it you would pass notes, but even then those little conversations were feeble. So, you always lived alone, it was less hassle anyway.
Unfortunately, when you had decided to look for college apartments so you could move out, only a few showed up. Out of those few only one was a studio, and taking one look at it, you understood why it was still available. Mildew crept up the walls and around the ceiling, the floors had enough water damage that they would crumble like a graham cracker under furniture, and that wasn’t even accounting for the smell. The apartment smelled like someone had let milk spoil and mixed it with the most chemical floral scent you had ever smelled. Probably the landlord is trying to cover up whatever atrocities the previous tenant committed.
So, of course you took a two bedroom apartment. The apartment was nice, you had to give it that. There was a small kitchen as you walked into the living room with plenty of cooking space and an oven. A big window with plenty of bright sunlight streaming through the cream colored curtains sat on the other side of the apartment. A hallway appeared on your right as you walked further away from the entryway, complete with three doors. Not too terrible, you supposed.
You noticed there were some decorations around, and you assumed the roommate was already there. As you walked in you noticed a beige rug to wipe your shoes on, and small posters hung on the walls, of bands, shows, etc. not too bad. The landlord was sweet and asked simple questions, which you appreciated. Not having to get out your notepad every five minutes was nice.
Days after you first looked at the apartment, you had all your stuff in a car ready to move into the apartment, leasing was signed and everything was in order, now you just had to unpack. It took about thirty minutes to get everything all situated in your room for unpacking, so you shuffled out to the kitchenette in a tired haze with your school bag, intent on getting some English done.
Suddenly a fluffy haired boy poked his head out of his room and you nearly screamed. “Hello, you’re the new roommate I assume?” you nodded in response to the overly bubbly person, turning away before he said anything else. “Ah I see.” He giggles awkwardly and moves out of his room to stare at you. “My name’s Karl by the way.”
He seems to be waiting for you to respond, to which you only give a nod and set down your bag.
“Uhm do you need help with any boxes or anything? I’d be happy to help.” he steps closer and you shake your head as you fuss over your bag. He moves a little closer towards the kitchenette to grab some water or something, and you haul your bag back to your room. Nowhere was sacred.
It was a while before he tried to initiate conversation with you again, seeming to get the memo quickly. It had been around a week and you picked up on some of his odd habits. The boy drank monster energy like he would die without it, he painted his nails (you thought they were pretty but he would never know), and he giggled at everything. But all good things must come to an end.
So, as you were finishing up editing a piece for your English course, he knocked on your door, jolting you out of your concentration zone. You give an affirmative hum and he cracks the door open.
“Hey…uhm I was gonna watch a marvel movie in the living room, if you wanna…I dunno…” his sentence tapered off into a puff of air as you looked back at your work. You hummed gently, staring at your paper. It was almost finished and it wasn’t due for three days, a movie couldn’t hurt.
You look back and nod at him and a grin grows on his face. Apparently he didn’t mind you being a little quiet. You still kept your guard up though.
“I have candy and popcorn if you want it, and some extra blankets.” He seemed incredibly happy just watching a movie, but hey, free popcorn wasn’t something you’d pass up.
Nodding, you follow him to the living room where disney plus is queued up and plop down on the sofa as far away from Karl as possible. You might’ve imagined it, but he seems to slump a little at that. As soon as you take notice it’s gone, replaced with a bubbly persona. Karl starts the movie and relaxes into the couch, and you can’t help but quietly snort at how he practically melts into it. At some point you reach for the candy bowl, noticing it’s filled with your favorite, and your brows furrow. Strange.
The movie was good, and Karl falls asleep during it, his lashes look unfairly pretty. They aren’t really pretty though, just…they’re aesthetically pleasing to look at alright?
After that you notice a few more things. Karl randomly leaves pieces of candy on your desk while you’re out of the apartment, and he doesn’t try to have conversation. He does offer meals together, and movie nights. You take him up on the movie nights, the dinners are too much face to face for you at one time. He also occasionally sings songs from bands you’ve played out loud while making food for yourself.
It’s odd. You thought you would be more weirded out by it but, honestly it reassures you more than anything. Sometimes the lump that rests on your throat eases up a little when you’re around him, sometimes enough to almost say something. You never do.
Karl understands though. He knows you don’t talk at this point. He also knows you don’t touch, ever. You made that very clear when he rested his hand on your shoulder as you cooked. The way you whipped around and held the sauce spoon to his neck told him all he needed to know about your preferences on physical touch.
He asks yes or no questions, and always makes a little noise when entering a room so as to not startle you, and you appreciate it.
The lump keeps getting less and less tight around him, and sometimes, during movies, from the opposite end of the couch, you whisper his name. It hurts, it feels like coals burning down your throat, and every time you speak, alarm bells go off. You fight it every time, because it feels so good to just utter something, anything. You never say it loud enough for him to hear.
One day, you make dinner and knock on his door. He opens it with a weary smile. “Hi, what's up?” you offer the plate to him. “Oh! What the honk? Thank you so much!” he moved to shut his door, thinking the usual exchange was over, but you stopped him, motioning to the coffee table by the sofa. “Oh, okay, yeah, sure!” he looked at you curiously, this was new.
You decided the dining table was too much, so the coffee table would have to do.
“Th-” you were interrupted by a couple of coughs ”thank you.” Karl’s fork clattered onto the plate, his eyes wide in shock. You huffed a laugh at his stunned expression
“You can talk?!” he exclaimed.
You nod. You start to write on a piece of paper from your room you brought out. ‘Selectively mute. I can’t always, only with people I really trust, most people write me off and don’t even try.’
Karl nods looking away from the paper. “I appreciate the thanks, but it’s just human decency. You have a pretty voice by the way..” his cheeks were pink and he seemed flustered. huh.
You hum in response.
After that Karl seems more comfortable around you, hovering in the kitchen as you cook, sitting in your room as you work, inching a little closer during movie nights, never close enough to touch, but close enough to be a presence. He continues to get you candy and stuff, but now you stock the fridge with monsters, as unhealthy as it may be for him.
Everything was great, until one night, about four months in, you had a night terror. They weren’t common, but they all involved the same thing. You woke up soaked in cold sweat, sheer panic coursing through you. Icy sheets of fear washed over you nonstop and you hadn’t realized you were screaming until you heard Karl run in.
“Are you hurt? Are you okay?” he paused, being familiar with anxiety and noticed the terror gripping your face and how your arms were bleeding with sratch marks. “hey, hey, come back to me, c’mon, you’re here. This is your room. What you’re seeing isn’t real, I promise, you are in your room.” he shushed your whimpers until you saw Karl properly.
That in itself sent you down a hole again, knowing he saw a panic, how would he still wanna be there with you?
“-ere, c’mon, breathe, sh-sh-sh, it’s alright, c’mon sunshine, breathe, you can do it, in, out, in, out” you finally came to, seeing Karl clutching a corner of your blanket, obviously restraining himself from touching you.
“G-go. pl-” another coughing fit interrupts you, “please.” Karl’s head hangs as he hears you, big blue eyes full of something you don’t recognize. He slowly pulls himself up and walks towards the door, turning back to look at you once as you curl in on yourself with shame, before shutting your door.
It was a full week before you looked him in the eyes again. You avoided movie nights, locked your door at night, and ate in your school cafe, no matter how expensive it was. It felt terrible to rip away the one person who brought you comfort, but it was your fault wasn’t it? You let him too close. He was too close.
Eventually Karl got sick of it and slept on the couch one night until you left for class in the morning. When the door inevitably woke him up, he cursed himself for sleeping through the alarm he set for your wake up time. He missed you. He missed the little laughs you let out over random moments in movies, or how you not-so-subtly hoarded your favorite candy during movie nights, or how concentrated you would get on your studies, he just missed you.
He got used to your pots clanging around at 6:30 pm when you made dinner, he got used to your little dances when you were taking a break from work, he got used to how messy your hair could get, he got used to your huffs of indignancs and your attitude.
Now they are gone. You were gone, and he felt horrible.
That evening Karl stood at the kitchen counter tapping his fingers against the fake granite. You were due home any second, and finally, finally, the doorknob jiggled.
You walked in and he swore you were gorgeous. Even with the eyebags and stooped posture and sullen expression.
“Hey.” he blocks the hallway and you huff at him.”can we talk?”
You look at the window, almost as if you wish you could jump out of it. Honestly considering the crushing rejection you might face, it seems more and more appealing.
“Look, I’m sorry about the other night. I know you have some hard boundaries about your space, and I try to respect them, I do. But I heard screaming and I literally felt my blood run cold. I…i didn’t know what that saying meant until now. I was so scared.” he peers at you, gauging your reaction.
You held your sides in a hug, waiting for the inevitable pitfall, the ‘what the actual hell man, that’s weird as hell.’ kicking out speech. The one where they say you being completely silent was fine but the screaming was too much. The one where they say it’s ‘too hard’ to be friends with a mute person. The one where they avoid your eyes, and laugh awkwardly, and shy away from you.
It never came.
He paused and said “I care for you, you know?” your head shoots up, and confusion laces your features as your arms loosen from their iron grip around your ribs and waist. “Did you expect me to be mad?” His face shows surprise and concern.
Looking at the window again you give a slight nod. “M…most people…”
He waits, looking at you with wonder. When you don’t speak he grabs you some water and looks at you again expectantly, waiting for words or a shake of your head. His face is a little pink and he seems concerned.
Well, the lump was fairly loose today, and you didn’t feel like you were dying that first time, so maybe you could… “people…avoid me…they think I…that”
you pause. This was hard. It burned like fire. You knew there wasn’t any real damage but you felt scared. “That I…don’t want to talk…I guess.”
you turn towards the couch, away from karl. “I…went through some stuff…I didn’t…I couldn't…talk after. It ruined me…the psychologist said…it was a…something response...trauma maybe?” you blinked away tears you hadn’t remembered coming.
“I want…I want to talk…and laugh…and be normal…I do. I suppose, people don’t…I don’t think they see me as a person.” you curled into yourself more, hunching over while facing the window.
“Wow. I-I mean that makes a ton of sense now, but I’m so sorry. That’s harsh, people shouldn’t write you off and do that to you.” he sighs and runs his hand through his hair. It was gorgeous, lit by the sunset coming through the curtains. “People suck.”
You shrug nonchalantly.
Karl droops and lifts his arms slightly before dropping them with an unreadable expression on his face. It's gone as quick as it comes. “Okay, are you gonna do movie night again then? Because I really missed that.”
You rolled your eyes and nodded, plopping onto the couch.
Things continued as normal after that, but Karl began to invade your space even more. You noticed his love language was physical affection from all his friends you saw, and you felt a little guilty. It wasn’t like you were withholding affection, it was just hard for you. You tried to make it up in other ways, making food, doing dishes, spending time with him, getting him monster and his favorite foods, leaving affirming notes around, and more. It still wasn’t enough though, at least you felt like it wasn’t.
Karl on the other hand was absolutely over the moon. He kept the little notes under his desk in a small cardboard box. He treasured every second you spent with him, every can of monster, every meal, every clean kitchen. He loved it. He also knew you were trying to make up for your inability to deal with physical contact. He hated that you felt that way but he felt like if it needed addressing, you would tell him.
This little dance lasted weeks, you being too afraid to take a leap, and him being too respectful to indulge when you leaned too close during movie nights. The dance felt electric, the almost touch of fingers reaching for the remote, the hips almost touching in the early morning coffee scramble, the hand hovering over the shoulder as you both studied for various exams. It was intoxicating and suffocating. You wanted contact.
You were desperate for human touch, a craving you hadn’t experienced in a really long time, you couldn't remember the last time you had touched someone willingly. You yearned for a soft hand brushing hair away from your face, a hand on your shoulder as you did something, maybe an arm around your waist as you poured coffee. Oh, you longed for it so much it hurt like someone was squeezing your heart every time he was around.
Karl didn’t see it, and you resented it. Yes he was respectful, and that was all well and lovely, but dammit you wanted a hug. You hadn’t wanted a hug in forever, but now that you wanted it, it was all you needed. You felt like you were simply insane for wanting something as docile as a hug so badly.
You started with baby steps, brushing his hand as you gave him his coffee, and you swear he gasped softly as he looked at you.
Karl didn’t notice until you brushed his hand, and what the honk? How were they so soft and warm? He looked at you with starstruck eyes, as his breath hitched. You had touched him. Willingly.
Purposefully. Normally there was an arrangement when passing things to each other. Avoid skin contact at all costs, and that was that, until now. You had just broken the barrier and he wanted to pull you in and hug you. Maybe sway with you to some stupid song after movie night, but he would take what he could get, and if that was hands brushing over a coffee mug, then so be it. He would savor it.
He started brushing against you, all the time. Any chance he had, his body was next to yours, his hand passing over yours. Coffee in the morning? He would gently hold your hand over the cup for a half second. Homework? He would have an arm against yours for a tiny second, leaning over to see what you were working on repeatedly. Cooking? He was grabbing spices and handing them to you, rubbing your knuckles softly as you took them.
You were going to die. This was the end. You had what you wanted, but it wasn’t enough. You wanted to cry. So you did. Late at night you curled up under your sheets and let the saline drops fall. It was a strange sensation, something you hadn’t done in a while. Your sobs were quiet but Karl heard you. Again. He was stupidly perceptive.
“Sunshine? Are you okay?” you sniffled under your covers, trembling and hiccuping. You felt quiet sobs wrack your body. Unlike last time, Karl didn’t restrain himself from sitting on the bed, clutching the sheets. “ Can I hold you?” His voice was soft with compassion and something you dared not name. Not yet.
You sniffed and nodded against the sheets still facing the wall. You felt him scoot closer behind you and brush your hair away, tracing your face softly. His arms moved to gently flip you over and pull you into him, holding you around the middle. One of his hands traced patterns on your back, as the other played with the hair at the base of your neck.
Oh.
that was amazing.
It felt like anything you ever needed, everything you ever wanted, and you felt safe. Safe, and warm, and held. All you could think of was how secure you felt.
You felt a fresh wave of tears start and Karl, ever the sweetheart, move away slightly in fear that he’d upset you. You quietly whined and pulled him closer so he couldn’t leave, and he giggled. That beautiful, warm, melodic giggle. Soon you both fell asleep, peacefully dreaming.
That became a new norm. Either of you would have a bad night and you would walk across the hall, and stumble into the other’s bed. It was nice to wake up with Karl. his fluffy brown hair surrounded his head like a halo in the mornings, and you adored it.
Karl enjoyed waiting for you to sleep, seeing your eyes slowly open and close, blinking owlishly, until finally he would shush you to sleep, saying “It’s alright sunshine, you can sleep. I’ll be here.”
There were also hugs, and such. You would feel Karl come up behind you and curl a sleepy arm around your shoulders, pulling you into him. Sometimes you would hug him as he did video editing for projects, a small drape around his middle, which he always giggled at profusely. Sometimes when you were both a little sleepy, you would hang off eachother, just embracing wherever you were.
Karl absolutely thrived off of the attention. He was so happy and giddy when you were around and you noticed. You began to say a couple sentences a day, to Karl’s growing surprise, and eventually you were able to say hi to classmates too.
It was so sweet, yet so, so bitter. You knew what the word you wanted to use that night was now. Without a doubt. And it hurt. You felt like your chest was caving in, and every time he held you, you wanted to sing, but you also wanted to sob. You loved him. You loved him truly, deeply, and wholly. This was what you were afraid of, the fall. You flew too close to the sun and it terrified you.
What you were unaware of however, was Karl’s mirrored struggle. He felt like you were his everything, his favorite person in the entire world, he’d rather lay in bed and hold you than do anything else. He loved all your little habits, and he loved how you looked. He loved your little huffs and expressions, and he absolutely adored your voice. He became enamored anytime you spoke, feeling absolutely entranced.
You both skittered around it. Soft spoken words were exchanged in the early morning and late evening, when inhibitions were down and you felt comfortable speaking. Soft touches were a common occurrence, excused by hairs being out of place, or food on cheeks. It was beautiful, in the same way a string instrument slowly builds a sweet melody. It was torturous though, the push and pull killed you both inside.
Soft touches eventually turned into forehead kisses when one night Karl absentmindedly leaned over as you cooked and kissed your temple. You both turned away and blushed severely at that, and Karl was quick to ask if it was okay. You hummed and nodded in response, brain still short circuiting from the kiss.
He would come up behind you now and hold your waist, kissing the top of your head fondly. You always blushed at it, and if Karl enjoyed seeing you a little red and embarrassed, well that was his business. Karl continued to kiss your forehead, until one day he stopped. He still hugged you, and held you on bad nights, but he didn’t kiss you. It confused you. There was no warning, no 'I'm uncomfortable', just, stopped.
You of course internally panicked, after a few days you thought for sure he was mad, you had done something wrong. He felt weird about you and was slowly taking his affection away, inch by inch. You knew logically he’d never do something like that, but your brain was being a little irrational at the moment.
You started to shy away from touches, and Karl was hurt. He had only stopped kissing you because you hadn’t done it back, so he’d assumed you didn’t want them. He tried to hold you, to hug you like you both normally did, but you avoided it. He could tell it wasn’t because you wanted to avoid him, you weren’t subtle. You piled blankets on at night to keep warm and account for the body heat you had lost by sending Karl away. You sat close on the couch during movie nights, fidgeting, and squirming like you had somewhere to be. You hovered in his room or in the kitchen anytime he was doing something, like you wanted to ask for a hug, but decided against It. was unbearable, Karl could see you were longing for affection, so he decided that breaking boundaries for the sake of both parties’ sanity was okay.
You were doing dishes in the kitchen when you felt his arms around you, and his face sank into your shoulder. You tried to slide them off, but he remained firm. “Why are you avoiding me?” it was barely a murmur, but you felt it through your shirt.
“M’ not” you reply simply
“Liar.” he breathes into your shoulder.
“We still hang out, right?” he huffs in response “I don’t know what you mean Karl.”
“Every time I go to hold you, you push me away!” he had lifted his head up and you heard the soft tone of betrayal in his voice.
“It was like that before, I don’t see an issue.” despite your cold tone you were absolutely loving the warmth on your skin, hoping he wouldn't leave for maybe a couple minutes.
He sighs. “Sunshine, please tell me what I did wrong?” you bristle at the nickname. That was for when he held you after panics. Not when you were washing dishes, what was going on?
“You didn’t do anything” that was a half truth, he had kissed you, but now he wouldn’t and you were scared all the other nice things would leave too. The candy on your desk, the movie nights, the little touches, the sweet words, the comfort and solace you found in him. You were scared it would be ripped away, so you had pulled away first.
“Obviously it’s something.” he pulled you tighter against him, pressing his face against the top of your head.
Frustration of having him so close yet needing to push him away overcame you, despite how much you enjoy his arms pressed against you and his head in your hair. “Fine. Okay, if you must know, I was sad that you stopped.. Uhm…the…” you felt him smile
“The what?” he huffed a laugh
“You know, the things” you look down embarrassed. This was humiliating.
“No, I don't know?” Karl did know, he was just being difficult. It was so cute, seeing you all red and flustered, however, he figured that was enough teasing. “Oh! You mean this?” his face moved to the side of your head where he kissed your temple softly, pulling away slowly. “Is that what you meant?” His tone was soft, and a sweet smile playing at the corners of his lips.
“I…uhm, yeah. Yep.” his head returned to your shoulder.
“Good. I’m glad it wasn’t anything serious, I was really worried you were mad at me or something.” he pressed his face into your shoulder. “You should finish the dishes”
“I kinda have a leech right now, so it’s a little hard, you know.” he huffs dramatically and slowly loosens his grip, so he can go sit on the counter.
The dishes take you about twenty minutes and Karl is immediately back to hugging you like a leech again. His arms are tight around your middle and his face is pressed into your hair.
“I really, really missed this.” he breathes into your hair. A hand moves to your chin to turn it softly towards him, and he presses another kiss to your forehead, lingering as you lean into him. He pulls away softly and looks at you with unmistakable adoration. “ You know you’re incredibly beautiful right?” you blue screen at that and he giggles at the deer in headlights expression.
“Well so are you!” you retort, turning back to the sink as his hand falls back to your waist. His arms tighten slightly as he slumps into your shoulder.
“Shut uuuuup” you giggle and reach to pet his hair, to which he responds by lolling his head closer to your hand.
“You’re literally like a puppy” you laugh out and he groans.
“Mm alright then.” you hear a mischievous lilt to his voice and before you can ask he’s kissed your clothed shoulder so softly you'd barely feel it if you weren't paying attention. It sends a jolt of electricity through your spine, leaving you a little breathless. “Is that alright?” His voice is soft like when he kissed your forehead, a little lower and raspier. You can’t help but melt more into him. you nod shocked and a little floaty from all the attention he’s giving you. He giggles at your soft behavior, and moves a bit closer to your neck and kisses bare skin “is that?” another nod. Your brain is mush, he's holding you and kissing you, and you're on cloud nine.
His hands turn you around to face him, and you see his cheeks are dusted vibrant pink. You want to say something, to comment on how nice and safe and warm he makes you feel, how his kisses don't make you scared, but all you manage to say is “pretty”
He giggles and stares at you. His eyes flit down while he nibbles on the corner of his lips. He looks back into your eyes, and he's gone. They're so pretty and you're just standing there, against the sink, looking amazing like you always do and he can't help himself. “Can I…just, can I maybe kiss you? You’re so pretty and I just really wanna kiss your lips, yeah?”
“Yeah.” you stare at his blue puppy dog eyes and you are gone. This man could steal your heart and you’d thank him. Scratch that he already did. And you did thank him, maybe not for that, but it counts.
He moves closer and he’s so warm and oh my gosh he’s right here, smiling softly at you, “Yeah?” you can feel his breath on your lips and the proximity is so addictive you could melt.
“Please just kiss me already.” you sigh and close your eyes. His lips press to yours and you feel warmth. No butterflies or flutters, just warm, sweet and safe. he tastes like monster energy and chocolate, and it's the best thing ever. He pulls your waist closer if even possible and he keeps kissing you softly, and you can't breathe but it's alright. It’s wonderful, so wonderful. It's the feeling of sunshine in the morning when you sleep in, it's the feeling of comfort food, and late night movies, it is everything you want, and everything you need.
When you both pull away he kisses your cheek, and then your temple. “So can I call you mine now? Because if I can’t, I'm actually going to die.” you laugh and nod, and Karl pulls you close, rubbing his fingers up and down your back.
In the end it seems like renting a two bedroom apartment wasn’t so terrible after all.
#Slowburn#this is longer than my research paper what the hell#karl jacobs x you#karl jacobs x reader#bruh how the hell did i write this#like i swear i zoned out and zoned back in and there was 11 pages of writing in google docs#okay#but yeah have this#idk man#its alright for a really long thing#angst#hurt/comfort#selectively mute reader#trauma responses#idk
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Professor Graham
Will Graham x fem!reader
Word Count: 1.5k
Warnings: student/teacher relationship but they’ll both obviously of age, small age gap, psycho analyzing that’s probably super wrong
Author’s Note: giving you guys my professor adoration AND will? Total package
Summary: Will is your professor and you’re the best student in class.
I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator
(not my gif)
Will Graham was a good teacher. You had always been adamant about that. When he made the switch from the field to teaching many people were confused, considering how good he was at catching criminals.
But teaching let him be in control. He had the room's attention, the ability to change things at a whim. That was nice.
You were taking his psychoanalyzing class, one he was particularly good at. You sat front row in the lecture hall, your textbook out in front of you and your notebook open to take notes. It was a remarkably large class. Everyone wanted to do psychoanalyzing with Will Graham.
“In this case, how would you look at this person,” Will asked, after putting up a picture of a man. You raised your hand and he pointed his pen at you. “Yes, Y/N.”
“He has scratch marks on his inner collar. Could be defensive wounds or maybe it’s a nervous habit?”
“Yes. Look at the depth of them.”
“Not that deep, probably not a woman's nails.”
“What could that indicate about him as a person?”
“Maybe he has a form of anxiety? Maybe it means he’s guilty? Depends on the severity or the moment he was caught scratching.”
“Exactly.” Will gave you a curt nod. You smiled briskly before writing down some of the observations you had made. The class went on and you half listened. Will was easy to follow, he was a simple man. Most of the students were scared to death of them. They had read Freddie Lounds articles about how he may be a serial killer and tried to observe from a distance. You didn’t believe Lounds though. She seemed like a hack.
The class came to a close not long afterwards. People started to file out as you put your things in your bag.
“Miss Y/L/N can you stay for a moment?” You looked up into Will’s eyes though he was looking at you through the rims of his glasses, unable to make eye contact. You nodded and slung your bag over your shoulder. The rest of the room filed out quickly, leaving the two of you alone.
“Is something wrong?” you asked. He leaned against his desk, the projector still on to a picture of some man. The room smelled like old books and ink. Will’s cologne was always strong, you could smell it from the front seat you took. You got a whiff of it now, a couple feet away from him. It was woodsy.
“No, I just…” he trailed off, his head twitching slightly. “You’re doing really well in this class. I have some connections still within the BAU and I think taking some training there would be beneficial for you.” Your eyes went wide.
“Really? Yeah, I mean that would be great. That’s the end goal I guess.” Will was the youngest of your teachers. Still older than you but not by much.
“Good. I’ll see what I can do there.”
“How are your dogs?” You teetered back and forth on your feet. “I’ve been meaning to ask. I know you got that new one off the side of the road.”
“Yeah, Buttercup,” he said and his face lightened a bit. “She’s good. Adjusting well. The other dogs really like her.” You smiled gently.
“That’s great!” You reached in your bag, shuffling around. You pulled out a small dog toy that you had picked up. “I haven’t seen my family dogs in ages. I wanted to gift yours with something fun to play with.” He took it, thankfully.
“That’s very kind of you.”
“It’s nothing.” You cleared your throat. “Well if that’s all…” He nodded once.
“Yeah. I’ll get back to you about the BAU.”
“Yeah awesome. Thank you Professor Graham. I’ll see you at class on Wednesday.” You smiled wryly and then left the room. Will half heartedly let out a sigh.
“Will. Just Will,” he muttered but you were already gone. He looked down at the dog toy you had gotten him. It was one of the fancy ones, recommended by some dog association. He put it on his desk beside his bag.
===
You opened up the door to the lecture hall and let out a sigh of relief as the door shut behind you. The room was empty other than Will. You were early. Really early. You just wanted to escape the hustle and bustle of other classes, other students. School could get overwhelming.
“Class doesn’t start for 25 more minutes,” Will said, sitting at his desk. You shrugged.
“Just wanted to see my favorite Professor.” You walked down the steps.
“Yeah?”
“And I just wanted some silence,” you admitted. You sat down at your normal spot. “I’m tired.”
“I am always tired.”
“And hungry.”
“Human problems, tsk tsk,” he said, putting his pen down. You smiled and laid your head on the desk.
“How about your Professor? Can’t imagine teaching and looking after a hundred dogs is easy.”
“I don’t have a hundred,” he said, chuckling. “Only like 16.” You snorted. “Plus, they keep me sane.”
“Maybe I should get a dog for my dorm. I need something to keep me sane. I’ve been eating ramen and cereal for breakfast, lunch and dinner.” Will looked down at the paperwork he was scribbling on. He wasn’t doing a great job at getting work done.
“Why don’t you come over for dinner?” He said it without thinking but he didn’t regret asking.
“Really? You can cook?”
“I can try. Plus, the dogs love the toy you gave them, they want to thank you in person.”
“That would be really nice. Here uh.” You got up and walked over to him. “I’ll give you my number and you can text me the address.” He fumbled for his phone and gave it to you. You quickly put your number in and handed it back to him. “Text me.”
“I will.”
===
“You weren’t kidding when you said you lived out in the middle of nowhere,” you said laughing. The dogs gathered around you. You took the time to pet each of them, memorizing their faces and happy barks.
“Gives the dogs lots of room to play.” You nodded once. He looked much less formal. Just a tshirt and jeans. No glasses. You couldn't remember the last time you saw him without glasses. You smiled kindly.
“What’s for dinner?”
“Take out.” You chuckled.
“Well it smells amazing.” You walked forward into the dining room. The food was already laid out.
“I really hope you like chinese.”
“I love it.” You sat down at the table and he followed suit. Neither of you bothered to bring up that this dinner date was probably inappropriate. It wasn’t worth mentioning.
Instead, for the first time in a long time, Will just sat and bantered with someone. No murder talk, no worries about if they liked him or not. You ate your food (fed some noodles to the dogs) and had a good time.
He asked you to call him Will though. Professor was a little weird.
“Thank you so much for dinner Will.”
“Yeah of course, anytime. Thanks for coming.” You nodded once. You stepped out onto the porch. It was dark outside.
“It’s spooky out here. I can’t imagine living by myself.”
“I’m not by myself.” He gestured to the dogs. You nodded, petting one on the head.
“Great company.”
“Absolutely.” You cleared your throat and grabbed your keys.
“Well I’ll see you at class. I won’t mention this to anyone, just in case.” He nodded, grateful. You strayed, like you were waiting for something. He realized suddenly that he wanted to kiss you. He knew that would probably get him in trouble but if he waited any longer he would miss his chance.
So he kissed you. Quickly, gently.
When he pulled away your eyes were fluttering with embarrassment and he worried he had done something wrong. You giggled though and that made him feel better.
“We should do this again,” you said. He laughed dryly.
“Sounds good. Yeah.”
“I’ll see you at class. Oh and hey, don’t bump up my scores just because I’m a good kisser.”
“Who said you were a good kisser?”
“Will!” His hand lingered on the door as he laughed.
“I’m kidding. I won’t, I promise.”
“Good. See you then.”
You turned around and finally got to show your emotion on your face, eyes wide, a smile on your lips. You got in your car and suppressed some more laughter.
Hannibal Tag List: @michaelmyersthestabbyboi, @elisaa-shelby, @russian-soft-bitch, @lov3vivian, @ceruleanrainblues, @alexxavicry, @demigirl-with-problems,@softieekayy
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HOUSE RIVALRIES PART 2 — theodore nott x ravenclaw! f! reader PART 1
CONTENT WARNING: swear words/ injury from quidditch/ super fluffy ending
SUMMARY: you and slytherin go against each other for the last match of the quidditch season. what happens when a rogue bludger calls you to fall off your broom. will the truth finally reveal itself?
WC/ AVG. READING TIME: 1010 words/ 5 minutes
return to the theodore masterlist here
"LOOK, FINAL MATCH of the year. if we don't win, you lot are absolute dog shite." y/n warned, semi jokingly and semi seriously to her team.
"yes captain," groans and mumbles erupted from the hurdle the seven members were currently in.
"oh come off it, i want determination." y/n frowned.
"against slytherin today, you'll be alright?" terry asked.
"against slytherin today, you'll be alright?" terry asked.
"against slytherin today, you'll be alright?" terry asked.
terry was y/n's best friend. he was the only one who knew about theodore and what happened between the two of them.
y/n told terry in confidence and trusted him with the secret.
"yea, i will. plus i'm quite furious at him so it wouldn't hurt to kick his arse," the girl shrugged as she gripped onto her broomstick tightly.
"kick his arse we shall." terry grinned as they exited the tent.
"captains, shake hands," madam hooch instructed.
graham montague stuck his hand out to y/n which she hesitantly took.
"still as sexy as ever y/l/n," he smirked.
theodore, who was standing just next to graham, felt like he could punch graham in the face for saying such a thing to his girl. but seeing as how he was still not on y/n's nice side, he let out an angry breath he did not know he was holding and bit the inside of the cheek.
"oh fuck off you minging bastard." the girl scowled.
madam hooch released the snitch, the quaffle and the bludgers.
she blew her whistle and the match began.
y/n kicked off her broom and began to look for the golden flying metal.
she was the team’s seeker, an expert one at that. she was determined to bring her house to victory.
ravenclaw had a rather good run throughout the school year. as long as they won this match, they would win the house cup.
y/n spent her time half watching over her team to give them any directions or instructions, and the other looking for the snitch.
almost an hour past and y/n was exhausted. luckily none of her teammates had experienced any casualties and she heard parvati announce ravenclaw was sadly 10 points behind slytherin.
y/n let out a frustrated groan as she eyed the blue sky, trying to heighten her senses to either see or hear the snitch.
that was when she noticed the fluttering of the snitch a few hundred meters away from her.
she looked down and saw that draco had not spotted.
y/n started surging towards the snitch while parvati commentated on it.
that caused draco to go after the snitch as well, him hot on the girl’s tail.
y/n could practically feel the snitch on the pad of her fingertips and could almost catch it in her palm when she felt a sharp pain on the side of her torso.
the force of the bludger that had hit her pushed her off her broom and the girl started falling hundreds of metres.
luckily, professor flitwick managed to charm her fall to slow down, but that did not manage to dampen the impact of y/n and the floor.
the moment theodore saw y/n fly off her broom, he started speeding towards her, in hopes of catching her.
he was too late however and a bone crushing sound came as y/n landed onto the grassy quidditch pitch.
theodore jumped off his broom and he kneeled next to y/n’s unconscious body, in full tears.
“move aside mr nott,” madam pomfrey pushed the boy aside to try and aid the girl momentarily before transporting her to the hospital wing.
theodore refused and continued holding y/n.
terry saw this and tapped his shoulder, “oi, if you don’t move, madam pomfrey can’t help her.”
theodore nodded as he hesitantly let go, his trembling body stepping away as he watched madam pomfrey chant incantations.
a sudden realisation flashed theodore and he turned around, stomping to where the rest of his team members were standing.
“who the fuck threw that bludger?” theodore practically shouted, his attention on the two slytherin beaters, crabbe and goyle.
“she was about to get the snitch. and stop shouting, madam hooch will hear and we’d get disqualified,” vincent said in a hushed whisper.
“you absolute fucking cunt,” theodore lurched forward and knocked vincent with a right hook, causing the boy to fall backwards.
“mate? what the fuck was that for? why’d you care so much about that slag anyway?” vincent held onto his broken bloody nose.
that infuriated theodore more and he continued his rampage, his fist colliding with crabbe’s face over and over again.
by now, the commotion was causing a scene and people were starting to crowd around.
terry decided that since none of the slytherins were butting in to try and stop it, he had to do his best friend a favour and stop theodore.
terry, being a rather fit boy, easily pulled theodore by his arm onto his feet.
“brother, stop it. they're bringing y/n to the hospital wing, quit fucking around." terry scolded.
theodore wiped the bit of blood from his cut lip, that formed when crabbe had tried to fight back, with his thumb.
"do not ever speak of my girlfriend like that. or that will be the last thing you ever fucking say." theodore spat with a menacing glare as the slytherins who crowded around him started whispering.
theodore had just outed his relationship, well, past relationship, to basically the entirety of his house.
and yet, that was the last thing on the slytherin boy's mind.
he followed after terry as hagrid carried the passed out y/n back into the castle.
theodore chewed on the back of his thumb nervously as he paced back and forth. he had just finished his, about what, fifth breakdown?
"mate, i'm getting dizzy." terry leaned against the brick wall of the school corridor, "she'll be alright."
"i regret it so fucking much. i regret ever putting my stupid house above her. i love her so much." theodore ran his hands through his hair.
it had been hours and the two boys had changed out of their quidditch uniforms.
"she still love you, d'you know. sure she's fuming, but she still loves you. going on a break was the toughest decision she's had to ever make. she pretends like she's alright but the poor girl's hurting. she hasn't eaten a proper meal in ages! she's skin and bones!"
theodore felt like he wanted to throw himself off the astronomy tower from the guilt. his heart sinking to his gut. he had hurt the one girl he had swore he would never.
the double doors to the hospital wing opened and madam pomfrey greeted the two boys.
"is she okay? will she be alright?" theodore bombarded the matron with questions.
"i managed to heal all her broken bones but she's under calming draught and resting. she can accept visitors but keep your volume down."
theodore pushed past madam pomfrey and saw y/n lying in a cot.
her face was almost as pale as draco malfoy's and tucked under a thin sheet. her hair messily sprawled out on her pillow.
he settled onto the wooden chair next to y/n, and held her cold hand in his.
terry stayed for a bit before returning to his own dorm.
theodore however, had managed to slip past madam pomfrey when she did her last nightly rounds and stayed overnight, in the uncomfortable backless chair, his head resting on the mattress of y/n's cot.
when y/n began to stir awake the next morning, theodore's jolted up from the movement under him.
"merlin y/n, you scared the absolute hell out of me." he rasped, "i was absolutely worried sick."
"i'm sorry, i'm sorry about what i said that day. i'm sorry for being a down right git and ever thinking my house was ever more important than you. i was so wrong. you're the single and only thing i care about in my darn stupid life."
"theo-"
"no, y/n. i'm sorry. please. take me back. i'd do anything please. i love you so fucking much, and i hate myself for ever putting our relationship on the line. please y/n."
"theo-"
"please. i fucking hate crabbe for landing you here and honestly i felt like i could've hexed that son of a bitch. i love you so much darling, i don't think i can or will ever love someone as much as i love you."
by now theodore was sobbing once again, his tear ducts never having been this active since he witnessed his mother's death.
"theo, baby," y/n wiped his eyes with her hand, "i forgive you and i love you. but you've been laying on my arm all night and it's gone all numb." she chuckled.
"oh, shit, sorry." theodore removed his arm from her.
"no more slytherin bullshit i promise. i'd proudly admit to the whole wizarding world that my girlfriend is the prettiest and most brilliant girl in ravenclaw." he assured.
"just ravenclaw?" y/n teased.
"in the whole bloody universe!"
"atta boy, c'mere i missed your kisses."
y/n did not need to say twice for theodore to smash his lips with y/n's, pulling her into an endearing kiss.
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Metamorphosis
promptober masterlist
will graham x f. reader
“There’s beauty in suffering. Pain changes you, it transforms all your maladies, destroys them to create something new.”
Dozens of eyes stared with intrigue as you taught the class, speaking in a soft and smooth voice, as if comforting a child. “Metamorphosed by your misery, spread your wings of sorrow and fly into the abyss of life.”
This was a simple literature course but you’d managed to turn it into a philosophical one. A few of these students were probably going to have a midlife crisis after this.
“Beauty is subjective.”
A clear voice cut through the trance in which everyone found themselves under. It was like throwing them a cold bucket of water.
“Mr. Graham, should I hurt you and see?”
Students looked around and at each other, a bit alarmed and confused by your words. Will smiled, clearly amused. “In anguish, I shall find you.” He repeated what you’d once said to him before your separation.
“You’ve found me.”
The tension was thick. It filled the room but no one dared to take a knife and cut, especially when your face neared this handsome stranger.
After a few seconds of silence, you pulled away. “That will be all for today. Don’t forget to read the chapter, analyze it, and write your report. Dismissed.”
Students rushed out; they couldn’t leave fast enough, though you didn’t seem to mind. Neither did Will because he approached you with a certain calmness.
You were packing your things to clear the room for the next professor, but that was mostly an excuse not to look at him. Still, old habits died hard.
“You’ve changed.”
“So I’m told.”
It’d been years since you saw Will Graham but you read about him. You wish you could say his imprisonment was a surprise but deep down you knew what he was capable of—despite him being acquitted of those crimes.
“To what do I owe the honor of your visit?”
He placed a photograph on the desk. Lifting it, you saw two skeletons facing each other in an embrace. The crime scene was a myriad of symbolism for romance. “Lovers.”
Handing it back, you zipped your bag, shouldering it in attempts to pass Will. Using his body as a wall, he pushed you back into the desk. “Must you be so extravagant in your letters.”
“You don’t enjoy them?”
He was so close you could kiss him. The desire was there but you knew Will wouldn’t give in. It’s the reason why he let you go all those years ago.
Before he could answer, you escaped his gentle cage. “Love is patient, Will.”
You would wait for him; until he was ready to accept your heart.
#will graham x reader#will graham x you#will graham x y/n#reader insert#hannibal#hannibal nbc#will graham#will graham hannibal
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Time sure does fly when you're having fun, huh! Again, there were so many amazing edits and fics and art pieces this week I’m sure I missed a lot, but all of you are really keeping me going right now!
Just like every week, you are more than welcome to send me any edits, fanart, and/or fics you want to highlight. There are no restrictions when it comes to fandoms/pairings, the only rule is that they have to be posted within the upcoming week, so between March 20 - March 26.
Here are some of the amazing creations from this week.
EDITS
main and supporting characters of the mandalorian by @djarsdin
music in the kenobi teaser trailer by @sith-maul
obi-wan kenobi by @gr-ogu
will graham by @magnusedom
FANART
adrian chase/vigilante by @middimidoris
college professor francisco morales by @nobodys-baby-now
din djarin by @shite-art
pedro pascal by @courin
pedro pascal's socks by @poenariuniverse
FANFICS
30 pieces of home (glamping) (frankie morales x f!reader x santiago garcia) by @astroboots and @jazzelsaur
din has body hair and also he's beautiful (din djarin x f!reader) by @janghoefett
grays (frankie morales x f!reader) by @forever-rogue
hangar - part 1 (frankie morales x f!reader) by @honestly-shite
lie to me (i) (javier peña x f!reader) by @iamskyereads
play (marcus moreno x f!reader) by @wyn-n-tonic
See you all next week ❤️
#i had a really really hard week#so i truly mean it when i say you guys are what keeps me going#creator shoutout
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VOTE! (NOT FOR A FIC BUT A CHARACTER/CELEBRITY)
So, I'm gonna cancel the yandere series, I really like this one (The Pharaoh x male reader). And because I have never seen one that involves Pharaoh x male reader.
Same rules:
PICK ONE CHARACTER! (Don't say [Character 1] or [Character 2] you must pick or I'll choose for you
You MUST put it in the comments. If you can't type in the comments or you want to stay anonymous, send me an ask with your vote and I'll add it in the comments.
Edward Cullen
Carlisle Cullen
Jasper Hale
Emmett Cullen
Jacob Black
Caius
Aro
Marcus
Demetri
Sam Uley
Garett
Tony Stark
Peter Parker (Bumping up his age)
Steve Rogers
Bucky Barnes
Thor Odinson
Clint Barton
Pietro Maximoff
Scott Lang
Bruce Banner
Dr. Strange
Loki
Venom
Deadpool
Helmut Zemo
Falcon
Izuku Midoriya
Dabi
Katsuki Bakugou
Mirio Togata
Tenya Lida
All Might
Enji Todoroki/Endeavor
Hawks
Eijiro Kirishima
Shoto Todoriki
Chris Hemsworth
Chris Evans
Robert Downey Jr.
Shawn Mendes
Tom Holland
Jeremy Renner
Sebastian Stan
Henry Cavill
Zac Efron
Colby Brock
Brennen Taylor
Sebastian Stan
Jensen Ackles
Jared Padalecki
Anthony Mackey
Aaron Taylor Johnson
Misha Collins
Jeffrey Dean Morgan
Matt Cohen
Bryan Dechart
Joe Manganiello
Pedro Pascal
Kim Nam-Joon/RM
Kim Seok-JIn
Min Yoongi
Jung Ho-Seok
Park Ji-Min
Kim Tae-Hyung
Jeon Jung-Kook.
James McAvoy
Ryan Reynolds
Robert Pattinson
Hugh Jackman
Johnny Depp
Scott Eastwood
Jared Leto
Ben Affleck
Ewan McGregor
Channing Tatum
Luke Evans
Tom Hiddleston
Dean Winchester
Sam Winchester
Castiel
John Winchester
Lucifer
Crowley
Jack Kline
Young John (Michael)
Dean (Michael)
Adam (Micheal)
Archie Andrews
Jughead Jones
Reggie Mantle
Kevin Keller
Hiram Lodge
Malachai
F. P. Jones
Fangs Fogarty
Eren Jaeger
Levi Ackerman
Erwin Smith
Jean Kirstein
Reiner Braun
Kenny Ackerman
Bertolt Hoover
Clark Kent/Superman
Bruce Wayne/Batman
Arthur Curry/Aquaman
Billy Batson/Shazam (Bumping up his age)
Hal Jordan/Green Lantern
Dick Grayson
Jason Todd
Damian Wayne
Tim Drake
Barry Allen/The Flash
Oliver Queen/Green Arrow
Captain Cold
Captain Atom
Chris Redfield
Leon S. Kennedy
Albert Wesker
Carlos Oliveira
Ethan Winters
Karl Heisenberg
Piers Nivans
Mr. X
Cole Young
Johnny Cage
Scorpion
Kui Liang
Damon Salvatore
Stefan Salvatore
Klaus Mikaelson
Elijah Mikaelson
Kol Mikaelson
Jeremy Gilbert
Tyler Lockwood
Matt Donovan
Tobio Kageyama
Kei Tuskishima
Toru Oikawa
Tetsuro Kuroo
Asahi Azumane
Daichi Sawamura
Wakatoshi Ushijima
Hajime Iwaizumi
Kotaro Bokuto
Satoru Gojo
Kento Nanami
Aoi Todo
Toji Fushiguro
Ryomen Sukuna
Brahms Heelshire
Jason Voorhees
Michael Myers
Stu Matcher
Billy Loomis
Hannibal Lector
Will Graham
Norman Bates
Pyramid head
Sweeney Todd.
Bobby Drake
Scott Summers
Logan Howlett
Erik Lehnsherr
Young Professor X
Scott Mccall
Derek Hale
Peter Hale
Chris Argent
Andy Barber
Ransom Drysdale
Geralt of Rivia
Ian
Mickey
Collin Shea
Johnny Storm
Jake Jensen
Ari Levinson
Tanner Grayton
RK800 (CONNOR)
RK900 (NINES?)
Gavin Reed
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OUT OF TROUBLE
Summary: After a Quidditch match, both George and Y/n sneaked out to grab a drink at the Three Broomsticks with their respective teammates. The tension between the two groups might end up causing more trouble than imagined.
Pairing: George Weasley x Slytherin!Reader
Genre: kinda angsty kinda fluffy
Tags:
George Weasley: @meph1stophelian
Permanent taglist: @elia-the-bibliophile @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog @amourtentiaa @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @skarlettmikaelson
Warnings: blood, injuries, violence, concussion, language (?)
A/N: idk what to say apart from the idea of George losing his shit big time won't leave me alone and idek why (blaming it on that scene in the Order of the Phoenix in which George and Harry beat Malfoy the fuck up) so enjoy <3
Rogue-durin-16 masterlist
"Well," McGonagall's severe eyes scrutinized all six of us from the other side of her desk. "who is going to give us" she briefly motioned at Snape, who stood by her side with an unimpressed yet disappointed look on his face. "a proper explanation of why Madam Rosmerta so kindly let us know that not only seven of our seventh year students were on Hogsmeade without permission,"
"But also making a scene and coming to blows." Snape finished, quirking a brow. "Do you know how lucky you are that Madam Rosmerta picked on the fact that you were students?" The potions teacher's eyes fixed on the three Gryffindors before inquiring, "Who started it?"
Silence.
"Merlin's— There is a student in the hospital wing!" McGonagall exclaimed outraged. "You all ought to come clean about this one."
More silence.
"Mister Weasley, you seem to be unusually quiet." The Head of Slytherin pointed out.
"Well, you see, professor," George's head, which had until that moment been resting on his arms over the school desk, was tilted up slightly. "I've got a bit of a headache going on." He motioned at the back of his head, in which a patch of dried blood had glued his hair.
"Weasley, I must insist on you to go see Madam Pomfrey." McGonagall's tone, although remaining severe, softened a bit.
"Nah, 's not that bad." George gave Warrington a side look and forced himself to sit upright.
"I'm going to ask again." Snape spoke. "Who started it?" He weighed the possibilities before inquiring, "Mister Weasley?"
"Why me?!" George flinched at his own shouting.
"Do you want me to believe the state Mister Montague was left in was Miss Spinnet's doing? Miss Bell's, perhaps?" The Gryffindor girls grumbled under their breaths, catching the professor's attention. "What was that?"
"I said why us?" Katie questioned with a tinge of indignation. "Is it because we're Gryffindors?"
"Obviously." Snape spat, earning a roll from Mcgonagall, though she didn't oppose her colleague.
Alicia only laughed humorlessly and folded her arms over her chest.
"We can stay here all night, if you'd like it that way." McGonagall stated after around five minutes of just silence.
"Ugh, fine." George let his head fall in the comfort of his forearms again and groaned, "it was me— I started it. Can we go now?"
"What the hell?!"
"Miss Spinnet!" McGonagall scolded her, stomping her desk.
"Can we go now or not?" George's eyes met my shocked gaze briefly.
"Everyone but you, Mister Weasley." McGonagall stated.
"Wait, no." I tapped my foot nervously against the tiles and took at deep breath. "It wasn't him, it was me."
"Miss Y/l/n!" I refused to meet McGonagall's and Snape's face, so I left my eyes casted down, but I still heard the professors' quiet whispers. "What on Godric's name happened?"
Two Hours Earlier
After a Quidditch victory in Slytherin's favor, some of us had resolved to sneak out of the castle and go celebrate with a drink in Hogsmeade.
Turns out some Gryffindors had had the same idea, though the drink they were having was definitely not a celebration.
"Look who's here," Montague nodded in the Gryffindors direction, purposefully walking in their direction. "You're missing half of the team!" He chuckled, not stopping more than a couple of seconds. "Are they crying on their dorms?"
"Get lost, Montague." Katie Bell spat, earning faces from both Graham and Cassius. Alicia Spinnet flipped us off, and George limited himself to give me a small wave, which I returned with a little smile.
"How's the place this crowed?" Kevin questioned with a frown as we tried and failed to find an empty booth.
"No idea." I replied, taking a look around. "I'll go grab the drinks, you look for a place, yeah?" Cassius nodded and I made my way to the counter; I could feel Bell's and Spinnet's dirty looks on me while I ordered the butter beers.
"Celebrating, are we?" My head turned to meet George's form, leaning on the counter besides me.
"Yup." I shortly answered with a proud grin.
"You're missing your seeker." I rolled my eyes at his comment. "I wonder where he's at."
"You know where he's at." I quirked my brow when he played dumb, a smug smile dancing on his lips. "I'm very aware it was you who sent him to the hospital wing."
"It was actually a bludger." He pointed out, giving Madam Rosmerta the coins for a butter beer.
"Oi, what are you doing?" I attempted to shove his hand away, but there was no use.
"Smoothly buying you a drink?" He winked and I felt blood going up to my cheeks. "Just her drink, though." He added, looking at Rosmerta.
"No you're not— he's not." The owner of the Three Broomsticks gave us a look but ended up accepting my money instead.
"Aw c'mon, Y/n" George pouted while Rosmerta passed me the drinks. "I've just lost an important match, let me have a win?"
"You can buy me the next drink," I resolved, chuckling at the way his expression lighted up. "but only if you don't cause trouble."
"Pfft I'm too depressed to cause trouble." I could tell he wasn't joking, though he still made it sound humorous. "Need help with that?" He motioned at the four drinks I was attempting to grab.
"No she doesn't."
George visibly grimaced at the sight of Cassius but, instead of snapping at him, he only leaned on me and pecked my cheek after saying, "No trouble, see?"
"Piss off, Weasley."
"No need to be that rude." I spat, taking two glasses in my hand.
"No need to consort with the enemy." He responded, picking up the remaining jars.
We approached the spot our Quidditch team had taken and had a surprisingly uneventful good time, until Montague started to run his mouth.
"Look at them, they're so pathetic." He obnoxiously laughed.
"Look at whom?" I questioned, a bit lost in my thoughts to know what he was even talking about.
"Don't play dumb." He hissed. "As if you haven't been staring at that Weasel since we entered."
"Ugh, honestly Graham." I lazily played with my jar. "Can't we just enjoy the drink without focusing on the only three Gryffindors in the room?"
"You're one to talk." Cassius mumbled.
"Meaning?"
"Graham's right, you've been staring at him." I pinched the bridge of my nose. They've done this little number so many times that I was no longer embarrassed. "What was that kiss about?"
"Cassius!"
"What kiss?" Graham inquired.
"He kissed her."
"Oh my gosh—" I threw my head down to my forearms in desperation.
"Ew!" Kevin gagged dramatically. "Did you let a blood traitor kiss you with that filthy mouth?"
"You did not just say that." My tone held a serious warning as I looked up at our keeper.
"Great, he's staring." Cassius grumbled.
"Frankly, he could use a lesson." My eyes widened at Graham's words; at first I thought he was joking, but then he grabbed his wand with a wicked smirk.
"Don't make a bloody number." I whispered. "We'll get in trouble."
"Y/l/n, I'm starting to think you're not on our side."
"Montague, if you earn us detention—" my words were cut off by another statement of his.
"No one's gonna know if we're sneaky enough." I looked at Bletchley and Warrington for some back up but they both seemed to be on board with Montague's plan. "What about a little... cruci—" before he could finish the word, I kicked his chair, making him fall to the floor.
"What's wrong with you?!" I shouted, kicking his wand away after standing up myself.
"Y/n, calm down." Cassius said.
"He was gonna use the Cruciatus, so maybe no?!"
"Careful, Y/n." By then, Montague had already gotten up; Bletchley had to tug him back for him not to go against me. "If you get along with scum, you're scum."
I didn't fully realise that I had slapped him until I heard a few people gasping; all from sudden, I was very aware that I had attracted unwanted attention.
There was a moment of tense silence between Montague and me, quickly followed by him grabbing my hair and hitting my face against the table, too fast for me to do anything about it.
"OI!" Cassius pulled me away from Montague, my hands covering my most likely broken nose, debating on whether to hold it to stop the nosebleed or not touching it to avoid more pain.
GEORGE'S P. O. V.
"They're talking shit." Katie whispered, squinting her eyes at the Slytherins.
"Of course they're talking shit." I responded.
"I'd love to go there and shove those—" Alicia grumbled, tightening the grip on her glass.
"Don't." They both looked at me expectant and I only shrugged. "Y/n asked me not to cause trouble."
Alicia snorted when my eyes travelled to Y/n and Katie mocked me with a silly grin. "Awww, Alicia, he's in love."
"George Weasley is in love" Alicia faked a gag. "With a Slytherin."
"Oh my— you're two shut up." I felt blush creeping up my neck, though I couldn't help the smile twitching up the corners of my lips.
"I mean," Katie shrugged, sharing a look with our friend. "Could be worse."
"Could be Warrington." Before I could respond to Alicia, a loud noise was heard behind me. "Ooooh your princess just kicked Montague." Our chaser commented; we all turned around to look at the Slytherins. "This is gonna be fun."
"Why do I feel like they're talking about us?" I said with a laugh.
"Did... Did she just say 'cruciatus'?" Katie questioned, a tinge of worry in her voice.
"Damn! Okay, time to go." Alicia whispered, getting up right after Y/n had slapped Montague. Katie and I were already following her to the exit when a thud made us stop in our tracks.
"He did not—" Katie started.
"He did." Alicia replied; she was quick to double check on me, but I was quicker to stalk towards Montague. "George no!"
READER'S P. O. V.
I came to the conclusion that we were already in trouble, so I might as well go for it and get Montague back.
Cassius saw that coming and held me back by my forearms, but Graham was being pushed against the table behind him in the blink of an eye.
It took us all aback the way George had stormed in scene; we stood there frozen for a hot second, until Bletchley realised Montague was trying to shake George off in vain while the Gryffindor threw blows at him whilst tackling him to the table.
"George! Stop!" Alicia yelled, coming to stand by my side, unsure of what to do.
"Get off him!" The keeper was the first one to try and remove George from Graham, whose face was starting to look as bloodied as mine. He did succeed for a split second, giving the Slytherin chaser enough room to get back at George.
I shook Cassius off the moment Montague jumped on George to aid the ginger, but before I could do anything, he was punching Graham again, though now he sported a swollen lip himself, along with a cut on his cheek, probably caused by Graham's rings.
This time, when Bletchley tried to shove him off Montague, he ended up with George's elbow digging into his stomach.
"He's gonna kill him!" Bell exclaimed, genuinely worried about the outcome.
"George!" I called his name, hoping it would have an effect, but the beater was too lost on the fight. "Wait— No!!" I tried to grab Cassius' hand when I saw him reaching for one of the heavy jars, but he was quicker to crash it on George's crown.
He hissed, losing balance instantly; his hands went to the back of his head, releasing Montague from his hold. My teammate took the opportunity to kick him off, but before he could try to punch George again, I reached to them, pulling the ginger away and not so accidentally stomping on my Montague in the process.
Just when everything seemed to have calmed down, I noticed Spinnet had thrown herself to Cassius.
Bell was struggling to tug her friend away, Cassius was being pulled back by a mildly hurt Bletchley, Montague was curled up in a ball on the floor and George and I stayed knelt not far from him while I checked his head.
It was only when Madam Rosmerta appeared with a towering, strong employee who managed to separate Spinnet and Warrington that it came to an end.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Graham tried to use the Cruciatus curse on George, professor." I explained without meeting McGonagall's eyes. "And I stopped him."
"He— he what?!" The Head of Gryffindor yelled horrified.
"Miss Y/l/n, did you send Mister Montague to the hospital wing?" Snape questioned wearily.
"That was me." George replied before I could make anything up. "And Warrington broke a glass on my head."
"Spinnet tried to kill me!" Warrington shouted.
"If I had wanted to kill you, you'd be dead!" Alicia yelled back.
"Don't lie to yourself darling!" Bletchley hissed.
"Don't 'darling' her dickhead, I'll jump on you right here!" Bell spat, leaning over her table.
"Shut up, Bell!"
"ENOUGH!" McGonagall shouted. "Fifty points will be substracted from each of you. Your families will be informed of this, and needless to say you won't make any more trips to Hogsmeade."
"Minerva, I think Weasley has earned himself detention for the rest of the year." Snape commented.
"And so did Mister Montague and Miss Y/l/n." She responded. "Now off to sleep, all of you— except from Weasley and Y/l/n, you two go see Madam Pomfrey— no but's, Weasley."
"Yes professor." George sighed, getting up and following me out of the class and into the corridor. "You okay?" His voice was so soft as he fell into step with me that I had to refrain myself from kissing him.
"Nose's probably broken." I shrugged, stealing a look at his crown. "How's your head?"
"Hurts a bit." He was obviously playing it off, but I didn't say a thing about it. "I'm sorry for that little number."
"Nonsense! As if it was your fault Montague's a douche." I reassured him.
"So... you're not mad at me?"
"I'm only mad at the fact that I didn't get to punch him." I replied with a chuckle triggering a smile on his. "Plus," I chewed on my lower lip, hesitating for a moment before adding, "it was kinda hot."
George let out a shocked snort, his whole face redder than mine while words stumbled incoherently out of his mouth, preventing him from forming a coherent sentence.
"Don't do it again, though."
"Uh- yeah— NO- I mean, no- I-I won't— I don't do this often—" I giggled at his stammering and brushed his pinky with my own. He cleared his throat and took the hint, intertwining his fingers with mines. "You know, technically it was you who caused trouble so..."
"So?"
"Can I still buy you a drink?" He sheepishly requested, his thumb drawing circles on the back of my hand while we reached the hospital wing.
"We're banned from Hogsmeade, though." I reminded him.
"Well, I might know a way of getting there without being noticed."
"I'm in then." I stated. "Only if you promise we'll stay out of trouble."
"Can't promise that." He squeezed my hand and let it go when Madam Pomfrey spotted us. "But I'll do my best."
"I'm sure you will." I tugged on his sleeve and placed a kiss on his cheek before following the healer's directions.
#george weasley headcanon#george weasley drabble#george weasley one shot#george weasley fanfiction#george weasley#george wealsey x reader#george weasley x slytherin!reader#george weasley fluff#the order of the Phoenix#george weasley x y/n#george x y/n#george x you#harry potter
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