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justmeinadaze · 2 years ago

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I'm In Control Part 16 (Steddie X You)

A/N: Please forgive me if this comes out incoherent for I have yet to sleep. My anxiety and brain are all over the place. BUT... this chapter is based on a request I got for Good Neighbors but of course I couldn't use it there because this dynamic and their dynamic are completely different. I also included some personal things I am dealing with right now so (probably why I can't sleep lol)

I love you guys and I hope y'all are doing ok!

Warnings: The reader makes a request for the boys to be rougher to an extent they aren't really comfortable with. There is an incident where they try so some degradation, hair pulling, name calling (whore, stupid, slut), handcuffs are used, spanking, bruising. The safe word is used by the reader. The reader is dealing with some trauma in regards to her parents who are (as stated in past chapters) very religious. The boys talk with her about it as well as why she felt the need to use the safe word. I think that's everything.

Word Count: 4290

“No.” Steve folded his arms as he leaned back in his chair at their dining room table.

“What? Why? Isn’t this what you dominate types live for?”, you scowl.

“No. I live to make you cum not hurt you for gratification. That’s a whole different thing, honey. You and I both know that doesn’t get you off.”

“Don’t call me honey.”

“Hm. Someone is sassy today.” Eddie gets up and tosses his empty bowl in the sink before coming to lean against the counter beside you. “I know it’s been a while and a lot has changed since we’ve had this discussion but the rules are still the same. You don’t get to make demands.”

“But”, Steve continues. “We can take it under consideration if you explain why you want this.”

“I shouldn’t have to explain anything! I just want you guys to be rough with me. Fucking use me, degrade me, bruise me. I don’t fucking care!”

“Well, then you can go to your favorite dominatrix for that.”, he winks.

You growl under your breath as you jump off their counter and stomp out the front door.

“Somethings wrong.” Steve exhales as he comes up besides Eddie.

“You think? Whatever it is she seems to think this will make her feel better. I don’t think she fully knows what she’s asking for.”

“Of course, she doesn’t. But I guarantee you, if I know that brat, she’s going to push us until we show her.”

#################

The next few days your attitude didn’t get any better. You were extremely short with everyone and fuming any chance you could. The boys let it go, keeping note of your demeanor and tone. You continued to make your request and they continued to ignore it…until they couldn’t.

Steve barged into your office startling Avery who was talking with you.

“Out. Now.”

The boy didn’t need to be told twice. “I’ll, um, see you tonight, Y/N. You-you guys should come to.”, he stuttered. “We’re going to Fantasy again.”

“Aw, thank you, Av. We’ll think about it, ok? Alright. Bye.” Eddie lightly pushed him into the hallway and shut the door.

“Come here.” Steve beckons to you as he points in front of him.

“Fuck you.”

The man strides to your side of the desk and you let out a small yelp as he grabs your hair, pulling you to a standing position.

“Maybe it’s been too long since we’ve reminded you who is control here, little girl. When I tell you to do something, you do it.”

“Yeah, maybe it has been too long because you seem to forget right now, we are in my office.”, you seethe through gritted teeth.

He turns to look at his friend whose eyes are just as wild as his own. Steve gnaws on his cheek as he thinks before pushing you roughly back and releasing you from his hold. You glare at them as they both take a seat and you do the same.

“Where were you yesterday?”, Eddie asks. “You were supposed to come over and have dinner with us.”

“I didn’t want dinner.”

“Where. Were. You?”, he repeated.

“I was at home.” You looked away but Steve saw something in your look before you could hide it.

“Why are you lying?”

“I’m NOT lying.”

“Fine. You may have been at home but you are hiding something.”

“This may surprise you, Steven but just because we are in a relationship doesn’t mean I have to tell you every little thing.”

He leans forward on his elbows as his eyes burn holes into your own. “I know what you’re trying to do and it won’t work. I don’t know what’s going on but I know that it’s fucking hypocritical for you to beg us to be more open with you yet you suddenly can’t seem to do the same.”

He had you there and your eyes fluttered as you looked away again.

“We’ll try this again. Eddie and I are inviting you over for dinner tonight. You will show up this time and we willtalk. Do you understand me?”

“Avery invited me—”

“To the club where you fucked someone else when you were pissed at us.”, Eddie cut you off.

“When you both hid your feelings and told me this was just sex!”, you growled.

“Okay. Let’s just put it this way, little one. If you don’t show up and we have to come get you… it won’t be to your liking. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?’

“Yes, Daddy.”

Without another word, they storm out of your office.

#############

You genuinely thought about following their instructions. You really did but if this was the only way for you to get what you wanted then so be it. What killed you more was that Steve was right. You were being hypocritical but you were so terrified to tell them what was really upsetting you. You had always told them you would do whatever you could to protect them and it was better to face their wrath then bring them into your chaos.

You respected their wishes to a point and stayed home instead of going out. To be honest, you didn’t even want to go out to a club without them anyway. You chugged back on the whiskey in your glass, drowning your sorrows till you crashed on the couch.

A loud knock on your front door startled you awake a little after midnight. As soon as you opened the door, a rough hand wrapped around your throat pushing you backwards.

“So I see we’re doing this the hard way.”, Steve spat as he practically carried you to the bedroom.

“I’m surprised she’s home so early.”, Eddie snickered. “Or did you get what you wanted pretty quickly, princess?”

You were thrown onto the ground and you clung to your neck as you gasped for air. “I-I-I didn’t…go.”

“Bullshit.”

“I-I-I sw-swear, St-st-Steve.”

He bent down on his heels and reached for you hair. “No, little girl. We are in MY office now. Who are you speaking to?” You claw at his wrist as he tugs back harder. “Answer me!”

“Daddy!”

Steve turned to Eddie, clapping his hands and the metalhead tossed him the handcuffs you guys had bought at the sex shop. He roughly pulled you to your feet and threw you to the bed as Eddie came over to help him remove your clothes.

You kicked at him with your feet while you tried to push at Steve with your fists. Eddie’s fingers pinched your cheeks, forcing your lips to pout out. “Stop fucking moving. Remember, you wanted this. ‘Use me. Degrade me. Bruise me.’”, he mimics your voice in an obnoxious high-pitched tone. “Do you know how stupid WE felt waiting for you tonight?”

“Searching that fucking club for you.”, Steve followed as he clicked the handcuffs around your wrists, chaining you to your headboard. “Thinking maybe you had left with some asshole like the fucking slut you are.”

They stood up from the bed, leaving you there, naked and helpless while they took off their own clothes. Steve’s eyes met yours for a second and you quickly looked away. “No, no little girl. Look at me.”

You pouted as you continued to look at the wall. The bed shifted as you felt his skin brush against yours before he suddenly twisted your hips and spanked your ass hard with his palm.

“Every time I have to repeat myself it’s just going to get worse. I said look at me!” You did as he asked but your eyes were full of determined fire. “You better control that attitude.”, he snarled.

“Now, sweetheart, it’s been a while since Daddy and I have had to do something like this but I imagine it’s like riding a bike.”, Eddie chuckled as his hand came down on your ass. You felt their hands hold open your legs and the sudden intrusion of his fingers in your cunt made you cry out.

“Where were you?”

“Here!”

Steve spanked you after you answered and the sting reverberated through your body.

“See, princess, you gave us that excuse last time and Daddy caught you in a lie.”

“No! He said I was hiding something.”

*SMACK*

“Did I ask you another fucking question?!”, Eddie shouted and Steve hit you again. The metalhead curled his fingers inside of you and you whimpered at the feeling. “Stupid whore. Did you hear that, Daddy? She said that with confidence like it’s any fucking better.”

You started to moan as you felt the coil tighten before Eddie abruptly removed his digits and smacked his palm against your pussy. “Did you seriously think after the way you’ve been acting we would let you cum?”

The did that tandem for what felt like ages. Eddie would build you up while Steve would hit your behind. Tears began to streak your cheeks but they didn’t care as they snickered and mocked you.

“Aw. Little girl can dish it out but can’t seem to take it.” Eddie toyed with you as he shoved his fingers back in your now dripping aching hole.

You suddenly felt a warm breath by your ear. “You wanted this. How does it feel? Is it everything you thought about when you were ignoring us?” Steve’s tone killed you. You hated hurting them. That wasn’t who you were.

“I’m…I’m sorry, Daddy.”

“Yeah, whatever. You don’t fucking care.”

“I-I-I do. That’s w-w-why—fuck—” The coil that had begun winding again and was about to snap but this time Eddie didn’t remove his fingers.

“You better not fucking cum. You’re not allowed to, sweetheart.”

You screamed doing everything in your power to not cum but it was hopeless. Your body trembled as your pussy clenched around his digits and the coil snapped. Eddie’s hand came down between your legs and you screamed again as you cried harder.

“RED! Red, fucking God damn it. Red!”

Their hands immediately released your thighs as Steve reached up to unlock the handcuffs as quick as he could. You felt Eddie jump off the bed as his feet slammed against your floors.

“Ow. Ow.”, you cried as Steve guided your arms down from above you.

“Eddie! Bath!”, he shouted.

“Got it! It’s ready when you are.”

You whimpered in pain as he rose to his feet and tried to lift you in his arms. “No. Daddy. Please, no.”

“I know, honey. I know it hurts. This is going to help. I promise.” He held you like a baby and slowly shuffled with you towards your bathroom.

“You got her?”, Eddie asked; his voice shaking.

“Yeah, Ed, I got her.”, he whispered.

Steve climbed into your tub, sinking down into the warm water with you still glued to him. He had no idea how to place you in the bath without shifting you too much and didn’t want to put you in anymore pain then you were already in. You started to cry again, really letting go.

“It’s ok, baby. Everything is ok.” You babbled something he couldn’t understand. “Y/N, take a deep breath and talk whenever you’re ready, ok?”

“I said…I swear…I didn’t…go to that…club.”, you hiccupped. “I really have…been home.”

“Y/N, do you remember how you felt, sweetheart, when I wouldn’t talk to you about my dad or my past?” You nodded as Eddie’s fingertips gently traced down your arm. “That’s kind of how we feel right now, baby.”

“What were you going to say?”, Steve asked. “You said you do care that’s why… Why what?”

“…Why I’m…hiding something…from you. I have to protect you.”

“’Hurt me. Not them.’” Eddie echoed your words from your nightmare when you three stayed in the hotel in Hawkins. His eyes meet his friends. “Explains why she kept asking for this.”, he gestures towards your curled up frame.

“I still don’t understand. Honey, no one’s here to hurt us. There’s no one or nothing to protect us from.”

Your hands shake as you lift your arms, pointing towards your room. “Eddie, baby, my phone is on the coffee table…”

He rises to his feet, disappearing for a moment before returning with your device. As you swipe at the screen Steve notices you have a bunch of missed calls not just from them but from an out of state number as well. You open your voicemail and press the last message, letting it play aloud.

“Y/N! You need to answer this phone right now! I knew living in that sinful city would rub off on you! And you dragged your brother down with you. You should be ashamed! You were raised better than this, you stupid girl! *Inhales, exhales* This is the last message I am leaving. Come home right now or else I will cut you off. Your father and I will no longer have a daughter! Do you understand me?!”

“Jesus, when did Steve’s dad turn into a woman?”

That genuinely made you laugh as you started to cry again. Steve pressed your head to his chest, holding you as tightly as he could.

#################

When you opened your eyes that following morning, everything hurt. Not just from playing but after finally letting them hear the message from your mom, it was like everything you had been holding on to inside let go. You were exhausted.

As you tried to roll over you realized Steve’s arm was wrapped around your waist. Eddie had fallen asleep across from you with his arm slung over his head. When you slowly reached over to move some of his hair back, his eyes immediately shot open.

“I’m here! What’s going on? You okay, baby? What do you need?”

“Shhhh. I’m okay. I just wanted to touch you.”

He sighed as he rubbed his eyes with his hands. It had begun to storm outside so there was no sun to burn his retinas at this early hour.

“Are you hungry?”, he asked. When you nodded, he reached over and carefully moved Steve’s arm out of the way before coming around to pick you up. He paused as he entered your kitchen. “Do you want to sit on the couch or I can put a pillow on the counter?”

“I can sit on the counter. It doesn’t hurt as bad anymore.” You watch his face as he softly smiled and gently place you down. “You two really don’t like doing this stuff, do you?”

His long hair moved from side to side as he shook his head. “Like Steve said, we don’t like to hurt for gratification. You know our normal punishments aren’t like that. Some people enjoy that stuff but…”

“I’m sorry.”, you whisper as you look down at your feet. Eddie’s profile comes into view as his hand glides up your bare leg.

“Look at me, princess. You have no reason to be sorry. We’re still…learning each other. I just wish we had known what you were going through. Steve and I would have doubled down on the no we gave you the other day.” He kissed your forehead before focusing on the breakfast he was preparing.

“I smell French toast.” Steve shuffles into the room as he yawns, stopping to run his fingers through your hair. “Are you okay?” He smiles when you nod as he pulls up one of the stools by your counter and sits near you. Raising your foot, you place it on his jeaned knee. Steve grins again as he absently rubs your calf with his hand.

You two sat there silently as you watched Eddie move around your kitchen. It was cute watching his tongue poke out as he focused on the stove in front him.

“Who taught you how to make these?”, you ask.

“My mother.” His answer surprises you. “On one of her few good days. I woke up and found her in the kitchen putting everything together. She placed me on the counter like you are and I watched her while she made them. Occasionally she would stop and give a pointer. Definitely one of the best meals I’ve ever had.”

He beams at you before turning to grab your plates. Steve takes his queue, lifting you off the counter and brought you back to your bed. Eddie appears a few seconds after, handing you your breakfast. You smile at him after taking bite.

“This is amazing, Eddie.”

“Thank you, sweetheart.” You giggle as he shoves a fork full food into his mouth.

After you three finish eating, Steve takes your plates to the sink and you hear him washing the dishes. When he comes back, he has an ice pack in his hand.

“Let me see your wrists, Y/N.”

You present them to him and he holds them together as he places the pack down against the bruises that had formed from you pulling on the cuffs. You jumped at the sound of your phone vibrating and Eddie leaned over to grab it, flashing you the screen.

“That’s my brother. I’ll call him back tomorrow. I…I can’t right now…”

“That’s ok, little miss. You don’t have to talk to anyone you don’t want to.” You glance up at Steve’s soft, smiling face and turn to see Eddie’s look the same.

“My brother travels for work. A few days ago, he was close to my hometown so he went to visit my parents. Apparently, he went to the bathroom and left his phone on the table. My dad opened it and read my texts…talking about my job…”

“I guess that’s on brand for your parents.”, Eddie sighs.

“I don’t know what to do.”, you murmur. “I thought about going up there and doing whatever sin washing they want and just coming back, continuing like normal but… I don’t want to. I…that voicemail is just a taste of what its like. Plus, I know if I go you two are going to insist on going with me—”

“And why is that a bad thing?”

“Because I know you.” You chuckle through the tears that start to fall again. “You two will try to defend me which will make them angrier. They are probably already going to rude to Eddie and not just them but the entire town with his tattoos and leather jacket. You already went through that growing up. I’m not…I’m NOT allowing you to go through that again.”

Eddie’s fingers reach over and brush your hair behind your ear so he can see your face. “Well, first off, you’re right. We would defend the hell out of you. I don’t know about Stevie but I’m not going to let anyone disrespect you. I don’t care who they are. Secondly, and I’m aware how cliché this is going to sound but…”

You smile as he playfully rolls his eyes and Steve laughs next to you. “I would walk through fire for you, princess. Especially if that meant keeping you safe.”

“I agree. Remember, honey, you’re not doing this alone. I’m here to and I’m not going to let anyone disrespect Munson either.”

“Aw, thanks, man.” They gleefully grin at each other.

You wince slightly as Steve leans over to throw the ice pack onto your bedside table. “Shit. I’m sorry, baby.”

“No, no it’s okay. It’s mostly my ass more than anything.”, you giggle as you keen into his chest. “The bath really did help, Daddy.”

A long exhale leaves him at the sound of your tiny voice against his skin. “Was that…was that what made you shout the safe word? D-D-Did we hit you too hard?”

Hearing him stumble over his words killed you. Their goal when you played was to make sure you were comfortable and enjoyed what they were doing. If they had it their way the safe word was a precaution you would never have to use.

“No… timing.” Steve flashes you a completely bewildered look. “When you two gave me the underwear and made it vibrate while I was dancing with that asshole… and I had to watch the pain in your eyes while he put his hands on me.”, you shuddered. “I got overwhelmed and ran off.”

“While you were telling me I didn’t care last night, Sir was making me cum when I wasn’t supposed to. I got overwhelmed. It…hurt. I see you in pain and I want to make it stop but I’m supposed to be in control of something else…”

“You’re trying to take control while we’re controlling you.”, Eddie says matter a factly. “Alright, sweetheart, it seems like a talk between the three of us is long overdue.” He stretches out his body, laying his head in your lap. “I agree in the first scenario we crossed a line. Our emotions got the better of us and we made it harder for you. We should have let you take the reins there.”

“Last night… we didn’t know what was going on with you. I told you if we did, we wouldn’t have—”

“I feel like we still let our emotions get the better of us.”, Steve cut in.

“No. You were trying to give me what I asked for. I pushed you. He’s right. I should have been clear and open. I ask that from you and you both have done so well opening up to me. It’s not fair for me to hide it from you, no matter what my motives are.”

“I think what you struggle with, princess, is knowing when to let go of your control. You can’t control everything.” Eddie sits up and turns to give you his full attention. “Nothing bad is going to happen if you let go. I feel like… after our fuck up…we’ve shown you that you can trust us. That you are safe with us.”

“We won’t let anything bad happen.”, Steve continues.

“I know…I just… want you to feel like that to.”

“What makes you think we don’t?”, the metalhead smiles when you shrug. “Ah. Your beautiful brain is telling you lies, little one.”

“When we first met, you insisted on making us feel comfortable. You’ve protected us against fucking cops!” Steve grins as he pulls you closer.

“You verbally murdered Trisha Jameson which is still just the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen in that dress.” You giggle until your eyes meet his and you find them filled with love. “Even though you were nervous you came and stood behind me when I faced my dad.”

“You stood up for me in front of mine. No one has ever done that before.” You turned your neck to look up at him and were met with his lips. “We feel safe with you, baby girl. We wouldn’t be here if we didn’t.”

“We love you.” Eddie grins as he leans forward to capture your lips as well. “We love you as is by the way. Fuck your family trying to say your full of sin or whatever. You are perfect and if they don’t know that then…”

“Thank you. I love you to.” You felt yourself start to tear up again mostly at their love for you. No one had ever spoken to you like this and compared to how you were being shouted at these last few days, it was such a beautiful reprieve.

#################

The boys laid on your bed talking to each other as you slept soundly between them. The storm had knocked out the power so there wasn’t much they could do while they waited for you to wake up again when you were hungry lunch.

Their heads turned towards your bedside table when they heard you phone vibrate again. Eddie grabbed it and showed the screen to Steve. “It’s her brother again.”

The man sighed as he reached for the phone, answering it as he carefully got up from the mattress. “Hey. Y/N’s phone. She’s busy right now but I can help you.”

“Oh. Hey…um…I’m Matthew. I’m Y/N’s brother. Which one are you? Are you the pretty boy or the heavy metal guy?”

“I’m Steve. Is there something we can do for you, Matthew?”

“Is she really busy or is she avoiding me? I swear to God, I didn’t rat her out. I didn’t even think my father knew how to work an iPhone, let alone go through it. I tried to explain it away like she was joking or something but they’re stubborn.”

“She’s not avoiding you. She’s asleep. She’s had a rough few days.”

“I can imagine. My mom said she wanted her to come home. She’s been ranting at the walls basically since my dad has kind of shut down. Do you know if she’s coming?”

“She hasn’t decided but if she does, she won’t be alone.”

“Good. I, uh, I’m staying at a hotel right now just outside of town. If she decides to come, I’ll be here to. My parents… I don’t think they know about you two. I don’t think they snooped that far.”

Steve glanced at Eddie. “She told you about us?”

“Oh yeah, man. We talk about everything. She’s like my best friend. She doesn’t give me all the gory details but she says you guys are good to her and you make her laugh. Some girlie bullshit about the way you smell and how the other guy’s lips taste.”, he chuckles. “I don’t care about the logistics. As long as you two treat her right and my sister’s happy, I don’t care. She’s been through enough.”

“Yeah, she has… when she wakes up, I’ll tell her you called and what you said.”

“Ok. Thanks. If, um, if she doesn’t want to talk to me, I understand. Just tell her I love her and I’ll be here if she does decide to come home.”

################

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watchmegetobsessed · 4 years ago

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A STEP FURTHER

Sequel to SIT ON ME

a/n: as per requested, here is a part two to my recent sebastian fic! hope you guys will like it as much as you did the previous part! also, there’s not gonna be any more parts!

pairing: Sebastian Stan X Assistant!Reader

word count: 3k

masterlist

You were expecting it. You knew how the internet and most importantly, Sebastian’s fans work. Just hours after the event, dozens of videos got out of Sebastian saying that he wanted you to sit on him if he was a chair, an answer to a highly inappropriate question that shouldn’t have been asked in the first place, but your crazy ass boss thought otherwise.

It washed over the whole fandom and soon enough everyone was talking about the two of you. And because part of your job is to be up to date about Sebastian’s media presence, you had to face not just him but yourself all over the internet. Fans started to dig up every tiny interaction between the two of you caught on camera, they posted photo montages of you and him just out and about or going from one meeting to the other. They started to look for signs that you’re dating and half of the fandom became convinced that you’re in a secret relationship. Speculations and rumors spread faster than wildfire and there was no way to stop it, you just had to live with it.

In the meanwhile, Sebastian didn’t seem to be bothered by it at all. It’s like he didn’t even acknowledge the fuss about the two of you, like it was all so natural and normal to be seen as a couple by the whole world when you were just his employee.

“What? It’s not like I ever addressed anything about my dating life,” he shrugged one day when you asked him why he is not caring about the situation at all. And that was pretty much it.

The fans wouldn’t have been that big of a deal to you either. They are strangers, they always get fixated on something and soon enough you knew something new would come up and make them forget about your existence. The people close to you on the other hand are a whole different side of the story.

Following the event, Mackie wouldn’t shut up about Sebastian being hopelessly in love with you and he would nag you to go on a date already, getting on your nerves even more than he usually does with his nosiness. You love the man, you really do, but he needs to learn how to stay in his own lane.

And then, slowly but surely every friend you and Sebastian shared caught up on the story and they started asking you about it again and again and you had to tell them the same thing every damn time: you and Sebastian were working together, no romance was involved between the two of you.

No one believed you.

Now it’s been weeks and people still go crazy whenever you and Seb step out together, which happens quite often since he’s been having a busy month work-wise. Paparazzi are always following you around, catching every moment you spend out in the public, putting you on the tabloids nonstop. It’s become your usual.

Another day, another event. The day starts early for you before you pick Sebastian up and heading out to have breakfast before you are supposed to show up at the concert hall that’s going to be the venue of today’s interview and Q&A.

“Mackie has been blowing my phone up all morning,” you grumble upon seeing another text from said man before you just turn your phone screen facing down so you can finish your toast in peace.

“What does he want?” Sebastian hums.

“He is asking if I’m coming today, as if I missed any events these past weeks,” you huff shaking your head.

“He has been acting weird,” Sebastian grimaces, reaching for his coffee. “Weirder than his usual,” he adds.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know, he just asks weird stuff,” he shrugs, not paying much attention to it and you decide to do the same.

Not much later, you’re finished with your food, only sipping on your coffee when you spot a group of girls near your table, their phones pointing in your direction and you have to stop yourself from growling, turning a little so you’re not facing the phones entirely. Sebastian notices your discomfort and looking around he spots the girls as well before turning back to face you. He doesn’t say a word, just gets up from his seat and strides over to the group as you watch him with wide eyes.

“Hi girls, can I ask you to delete the pictures you took, please? I’m happy to take selfies with you, just please don’t post the ones of us eating, okay?” you hear him ask them, leaving you completely speechless. Luckily, the girls are happy to obligate and he quickly poses for pictures with all of them before joining you back at the table.

“Why did you do that?” you ask him, eyebrows raised in surprise.

“You clearly didn’t like that they took pictures of us and I know you don’t like how we are being talked about recently, so I thought I would… try to help about that a little,” he shrugs, finishing the rest of his coffee.

“I just don’t like that everyone is in our business,” you sigh, folding your arms on your chest as you lean back in your seat.

“So we have business? Together?” he asks, raising his eyebrows at you over the table.

“That’s not how I… We talked about this, Seb,” you breathe out, your shoulders falling forward.

“Ages ago. Things might have changed since then,” he suggests shrugging his shoulder.

“I still work for you,” you point it out. “Things are better this way.”

“Sure, whatever you say,” he mumbles, clearly hurt by your words, but there’s not much you can do against it. “Let’s go, I don’t want Mackie to be up in my ass for being late,” he sighs, leaving the money on the table that most likely covers both your meals and a fat tip as well.

The car ride to the venue is silent, but not in the comfortable way it sometimes is. It’s awkward and you keep glancing at him, trying to find the right words but you’re not even sure what you want to tell him.

I’m sorry we work together so we can’t date? I’m sorry I keep rejecting you? I’m sorry I’m afraid if we go any further than this it will ruin our friendship?

You have absolutely no idea how to deal with it, so you just stay silent, right until you arrive to the venue. Before Seb could get out of the car you speak up.

“Are you mad at me now?” you ask, biting into your bottom lip.

“I’m not mad, Y/N. I don’t think I could ever be mad at you,” he truthfully answers, his eyes only falling on you after he has spoken.

“But there’s something, I can tell.”

“I’m just a little frustrated, is all.”

“Because of what people say about us?” you make a guess.

“Because there’s this unsaid situation between us and you just don’t let me address it. You don’t want to talk about it and whenever it’s brought up, you just shut the door right at my face,” he explains and with each spoken word, you feel worse and worse.

“It’s a complicated situation,” you breathe out.

“It’s not,” he retorts. “Do you not like me?”

“Of course I like you!”

“Okay, I like you too so why can’t we be more than just friends?”

“Because we are not just friends. I’m working for you, it’s a different situation!”

“Y/N, this is not an office job, there’s no HR, no policies, we can do whatever we want!” he chuckles bitterly as you keep your eyes down. You don’t have the heart to tell him that it’s not just because of work, but because you’re terribly afraid of being a disappointment to him if you eventually give it a try.

Your silence doesn’t amuses Sebastian and you don’t have time to rave any longer about the situation.

“Forget it, sorry I brought it up again. Let’s just… get over with this thing,” he mumbles before getting out of the car.

You move around each other like strangers, he is clearly avoiding to even look at you and you’re feeling guilty even though you don’t think you have a reason to. Still, you hate seeing him this upset, especially when it’s because of you.

The change in your act is not that evident, but Mackie immediately notices it. When you walk past him he grabs your wrist and pulls you aside.

“What the hell is going on?” he asks with wide, curious eyes.

“What are you talking about?” you retort, acting innocent, but there’s a reason why you didn’t become an actress, you suck at even lying.

“You and Seb are acting like a divorcing couple!” he whisper-yells. Pursing your lip you start chewing on the inside of your cheek as you nervously tap your foot on the ground.

“We just… had a little disagreement.”

“About what?”

“Us,” you breathe out, your head hanging low.

“Wait, so there is an ‘us’?” he asks, air-quoting the last word and you roll your eyes at him.

“No, that’s what the disagreement was about. He wants and I…”

“Don’t tell me you don’t, because I know that’s bullshit. Y/N, I see the way you look at that man, why are you making it so hard for the both of you?”

“It’s just—It might ruin everything and I can’t afford that right now.”

“Ruin everything?!” he grimaces. “What would it ruin?”

“I said fucking everything!” you snap at him, losing your patience that you’re the only one who has issues with the situation. “Our friendship, my job, everything! And I don’t want that. I can’t have that.”

“Dating someone wouldn’t ruin the friendship, Y/N. This is not middle school. Friendship is part of being with someone and you two have that. Just let it take a step further.”

“Thanks for the advice, but I’m good. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have stuff to do,” you mumble under your breath before walking away from him before he could get another word out.

It’s not that you don’t want it, because you do, you really do. You’ve been in love with the man for a long time and knowing that he has feelings for you too makes you have a heart attack every time you think about it. But you are so afraid it might go south and then you’ll end up losing your job and one of your closest friends as well. Because above everything Sebastian grew to be your biggest confidant, the person you turn to whenever you are feeling down, when you need a shoulder to cry on, you can’t imagine your life without him anymore and it’s not just about the times when you’re working. Traveling around the world with him is a blessing, you love the little moments you share, the late night movie nights in hotel rooms or when you’re exploring a new city together. You love messing around in his trailer when he is filming, making silly videos on sets or playing around with props you shouldn’t even touch. You can share anything with him and vice versa. If you lose him for whatever reason, you would be left with a hole in your life that would just simply never disappear, because no one will ever be like him and that’s a fact. You’re terribly afraid to risk everything for something that might not even work. You might be a horrible item, romance can bring out things of people that haven’t shown before.

The guys finally get on stage and you watch them from the side as always. It goes as usual, they are joking around, making a show, entertaining the audience as they go over the interview before the question round starts. You don’t realize it at first, but you’re holding your breath as one question follows the other, you’re scared someone might ask Sebastian about you and the shit show would blow up again. You can only hope his answer wouldn’t be as stupid as it was before. But luckily, the audience keeps you out of their business, only focusing on what’s important, so you start to feel relieved. Right until the whole event is nearing its end and Mackie decides to take matters into his own hands.

“I think we have time for one more question,” the interviewer announces and dozens of hands shoot up into the air, desperate to get the chance to ask the men on stage, but before anyone could get the mic, Mackie speaks up.

“Actually, can I have that last question?” he chimes in holding up a finger.

“Uh, sure, go ahead!” the interviewer responds, clearly a little puzzled about his request. Mackie then turns to face Sebastian who is sitting on his right and just by the look on his face you already know what it’s gonna be about.

“Sebastian, my question is: What do you love most about Y/N?”

He can barely finish the question, the crowd erupts in cheers and whistles that he had the guts to ask him about you, but you’re feeling different about his ballsy move.

“Mackie! No!” you shout from the side, both men looking your way. Mackie tries to look innocent while Sebastian’s face is unreadable, his piercing blue eyes are just staring right back at you and you wish you could read his mind.

“Alright, I take back the ques—“ Mackie starts in a mumble, but Sebastian is quick to cut him off.

“Nah, I’ll answer,” he simply says, another round of cheering filling the place and you accept defeat.

Squatting down you hug your knees to your chest as you listen to the inevitable answer Sebastian is about to give.

“What I love the most about Y/N is that she is genuinely the best person anyone could ever have in their life. She is so selfless and caring towards others, always got her friends’ back no matter what. I love that we aren’t just simply working together but we are friends too, really good ones and that I know nothing can change that.”

Listening to his soothing voice through the speakers, you feel your throat closing up, especially at the last part he just said. Chewing on your bottom lip you tilt your head to the side as he continues.

“Literally anything can happen, we could have the worst fight ever and I still know that we would make up no matter what. She is… just an amazing and exceptional person.”

There’s a heavy moment of silence and you’re staring at him from afar with teary eyes as his eyes are glued to his hands in his lap.

“Damn,” Mackie breathes out, making everyone laugh and Sebastian’s gaze rises to him with a small smile on his lips.

There’s no time to dwell on his answer, the event needs to end. The interviewer thanks for their time and as the crowd cheers to them they head off the stage, waving at them until they disappear.

You’ve moved to the corner of the room, not wanting to be in the way, but you’re still not over the speech Sebastian just gave about you. As he appears from the stage his eyes are clearly scanning the room, searching for someone and when he finally spots you, his face hardens as he heads in your way. You’re standing with your hand covering your lips, eyes still slightly watered and seeing you like this he knots his eyebrows together in worry.

“Hey, what’s—“

“Did you mean that?” you breathe out, your voice trembling. “Did you mean it that nothing can change that?”

“Of course,” he nods, finally seeing what this is all about. “We’ve always found our way back to each other, haven’t we?”

“But dating is so much different than what we do now!” you breathe out, still not entirely sure it’s what you should do.

“Why would it be?” he chuckles softly. “We are already spending the majority of our time together, we know each other better than some couples, it wouldn’t be that big of a change, Y/N. And just like how it could ruin things between us, not taking the step could do the same, because sooner or later it’s gonna be unbearable, one of us might end up dating someone else and that wouldn’t do good to us for sure. I would rather accept the end of it knowing that we gave us a try than not even trying.”

“What if I turn out to be a completely shitty girlfriend?” you ask in a whisper as he steps closer, his hands finding your wrists as he pulls them away from your face, holding them gently. “W-What if I—“

“Shut up,” he cuts you off chuckling. “There’s no chance you are shitty at anything,” he replies teasingly, making you smile the slightest. “But even if you do end up being one, we’ll work on it together.”

His hands guide your hands around his waist, you hold onto his shirt as he cups your face in his hands, his face inching closer until his nose is brushing against yours.

“I really hope you’re right,” you breathe out, giving up to resist it any longer. There’s no use.

“Was I ever not right?” he asks smugly.

“Oh remember when—“

You don’t get to finish, because he silences you the best way possible, his lips smashing onto yours. It’s been long due and it doesn’t disappoint, his lips feel soft and perfect against yours, you can’t help but let out a pleased hum as your hands slide up his toned chest and your arms curl around his neck while his hands find your waist strong arms circling your waist as he pulls you tight against him.

“That’s what I’m talking about!” Mackie’s voice breaks the moment and as you both pull back and turn in his direction, you see him pump his fist into the air with a victorious smirk on his face.

“Mind your own business, Mackie!” Seb calls out to him as you bury your face in the crook of his neck giggling like a little school girl.

“It’s my business! I made it happen!” Mackie retorts and a laugh rumbles through Seb’s chest.

“I’ll send you a thank you gift card later!” he shouts back before turning to you again, kissing the side of your head.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan fanfiction #sebastian stan fanfic #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan oneshot #sebastian stan one shot #sebastian stan fluff #sebastian stan angst #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan x y/n #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan au #bucky barnes #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x reader

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midnight-dreamerness · 4 years ago

Text

Home

summary: Chris goes on a mission and doesn't return.

pairing: Chris Redfield x Reader

warning: mentioned of death. Lots of angst tbh.

word count: 2k

~~~~

You knew what you signed up for when you said yes to going on a date. You knew there was a possibility that he wouldn’t come home. It was a risk you were willing to take to be loved by him. And he did. He did love you. More than anyone. He promised to marry you one day. He said he wanted to have children and settle down in a small town and live out the rest of his life with you, but there was something he had to do first.

So he left. He had been gone for three months when Leon knocked on your door. You saw the look on his face and that’s all it took for your world to come crashing down.

You didn’t do much after that. You stayed inside, playing what Leon said over and over until you had cried yourself to sleep.

“There was a problem. He had to go back in, but…the place exploded. They never found a body. I’m sorry.”

You cried and cried and cried. For months that’s all you did. No one could come through to you, not even Claire, who was going through something similar. You hated that she was handling it better than you were.

Claire stayed with you, but it wasn’t long before she had to go back to work. You didn’t even say anything when she told you she was leaving, simply buried your head into Chris’s pillow. But when you heard the door shut, you cried harder.

She reminded you of him. Her stubbornness. Her attitude.

She wouldn’t let you wallow all day. She made you get up. Made you eat. Made you wash your hair even though it was the last thing you wanted to do. But that did stop you from dying inside. Your clothes started to hang off your body, it got even worse after she left. You sleep all the time but your eyes still help dark bags under them. You didn’t care. What was the point? You had no one anymore. You were a shell of the person you used to be. When he died, he took your heart with him.

Leon had taken it upon himself to make sure you were okay. He came ever so often, restocked the fridge, made sure everything was okay before he left again. But there was something about this visit that made him stay. He looked into Chris’s room, watching your unsteady breathing as you slept. Even asleep, you couldn’t function right without him, without Chris.

So when you woke up he told you he was moving in, to which you protested. You argued that you didn’t need anyone to take care of you, you could do it yourself.

“Look at what you're doing to yourself!” He argued, making you stand in front of your full length mirror. You glanced over yourself with teary eyes. Your skin was dull and your eyes lacked any sort of emotion but sadness. Your clothes looked two sizes too big and you could clearly see your cheek bones. You took in a breath and placed your hand over your mouth.

“Do you think Chris would want this for you?” Leon asked, cradling you in his arms. You shook your head as an answer and pulled him close. You missed him so much that it hurt. All you did was cry and sleep. Every little thing reminded you of him. This apartment reminded you of him. You knew deep down that you needed to leave to get better, but you were afraid you would forget him. And you didn’t want that. He was your first everything. And he was supposed to be your last, you hated that he wouldn’t get to be.

You decided a couple days later that you would be moving in with Leon. Just until you felt like you could make it on your own again. And it was great. You applied for a job, to get your mind off of things. Although you had been working at the BSAA at the time of Chris’s….. You decided it was best that you found another, one that would get your mind off of him instead of filling it with the memories you both had together.

You did find one, pretty quickly actually.

You stuffed the tip the lovely couple left you into the pocket of your apron and headed to the back with the empty plates and cups.

“Did you see the way that guy was staring at you?” Trisha, my new friend and coworker, says as she walks inside the back beside me. You groan at her eagerness and place the dirty dishes on the tray to be washed.

She giggles and walks with you back out Into the front where you start wiping down the front counter.

“Yes. I did notice, Trish.”

She begins to gush as to how cute you both would be and how perfect your children would look.

You avoided the conversation all together, the way he stared at you sent shivers down you alone and triggered memories you didn’t want to remember in that particular moment. Your heart began to ache again. Luckily, you got to head home early today.

You were ready to talk about what happened with Leon, who surprisingly had the day off.

“Why haven’t you told her?” Leon asked, setting the table for dinner. You shrugged and picked at your nails as you leaned up against the kitchen counter.

“She’s your friend. You need to tell her.”

“I don’t like talking about it.”

“We’re technically talking about it now.”

A huff leaves your lips and you fall into your seat at the table. You glance up at him for a moment. He stared down at you with his arms folded over his chest and a knowing look etched across his face. You look around the room, trying not to give into his stare. You notice another plate set and you ask him about it, to which he responded:

“First of all, don’t change the subject. Tell her. And second, Claire is coming over.”

You mumble under your breath and fold your arms, like a child. Leon chuckles.

“I love you. And I love that you’ve found someone you clicked with aside from the cat down the street.”

You go to protest but you're cut off by the sound of the door bell ringing. You get up and walk alongside Leon to answer the door, grumbling under your breath. Claire stood there, an unreadable expression on her face. You hadn’t taken notice of the tall man standing behind her. But when you did, your eyes began to fill with tears

“There’s something I need to-“

“Chris?”

His eyes meet yours for a short moment before he’s crashing into you. His arms wrapping around your waist tightly, afraid if he let you go he’d lose you all over again. You were in shock. Your body is frozen and not yet reacting to the feeling of him. It was familiar and warm. It was what you ached for when you woke up in the middle of the night. It was what you were missing when he was gone, when you thought he was dead.

“Princess?”

The nickname. It reached out and pulled you in. You reacted instantly, a sob leaving your lips and you grabbed him and held him tightly.

“I thought - I thought -“

“Shh. I know. I’m here now.”

You rest against his chest, his scent radiating over you, making you cry harder. He had come back to you. This had to be a dream, you were scared to death that it was.

“It’s been 7 months, Chris. Where were you?”

Leon glanced down at the sleeping girl as she snuggled into her returned lover. She fit so perfectly in his arms, he couldn’t lie. He was happy that she got him back.

“I had no choice but to stay away. There was…someone after me. I had to take care of the problem.”

“For 7 months? Do you realize how much that took a toll on her?”

Chris glared Leon down, who simply ran his hands over his face in frustration.

“She’s been a mess. Ask Claire.”

Claire adjusted herself comfortably but awkwardly in her chair. Her eyes trained on her shoes.

“Claire-“

“You weren’t here, Chris. We are so glad to have you back. But you should’ve called. Should’ve sent a letter. She was killing herself.”

Chris felt awful for what happened. He couldn’t let anyone know he was alive, it would’ve put them in danger. He hopes one day they’ll understand that. He knew you would.

He explained it to them. How everything went down, and why he had to do what he did to keep them/you alive.

“Tell me. How was she?”

Leon explained it to him as simply as he could. How she wouldn’t eat, didn’t go out, barely talked at all. Chris hugged her tighter to his chest as he soaked in everything. Every word that came from Leon’s mouth made him grimace.

“She’s taking pills to help her sleep at night. She’s even got a job down the street. Working at Sally’s.”

“We’ll I’m here now. And I don’t plan on going anywhere.”

It was the next day when you woke up. You jumped out of bed and looked around. You were alone. Tears entered your eyes as you had come to the conclusion that it was a dream. Chris wasn’t here. He didn’t come home. You sat down on the bed and sobbed, holding your hands to your chest.

“Baby? What’s wrong?”

Chris rushed towards you and bent down to meet your eyes. They widened and relief spread through your body like a wildfire. You wrapped your arms around his neck.

“God, I thought it was a dream.”

Chris chuckled under his breath and lifted you up by your thighs. He turned and sat on the bed and readjusted you so you were sitting comfortably on his lap. You squeal and giggled as he sat you down, smiling and pecking his lips.

“I’m sorry I was gone so long.”

You shake your head and peck his lips again.

“I'm glad you're here. Chris, I -“

“They told me everything. I’m done. I’m retiring. And I’m going to give you that life I promised you.”

Butterflies filled your stomach and you couldn’t help the tears that slid down your face. Excitement isn’t a big enough word to describe how you were feeling. You were so happy to have him back. It felt like years since he had been gone, not even gone. You thought he was dead, in your mind you were never getting him back. But here he is. He has you in his lap, his hands resting on the curve of your hips, fingers tracing soft shapes into your exposed skin. Your eyes locked on each other, basking in the moment that you wanted to last forever.

He was home.

He was home in your arms.

“Marry me?”

#chris redfield imagine #chris redfield x reader #chris redfield #resident evil village #resident evil 8 village #resident evil #resident evil village imagine #leon kennedy #claire redfield #reader insert

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alltooreid · 4 years ago

Text

Call It What You Want

Everyone around them is trying to discover the true nature of Y/N and Spencer’s relationship. Little do they know Y/N is trying to figure out the exact same thing.

A/N: Sorry this took a lot longer than I wanted it to.... Mental health is hard but here it is!! I hope you guys love it :)) Additionally I added a lil garvez to this... but for it to work with the timeline we’re all just gonna pretend Lisa doesn’t exist... ok great!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (with a little splash of implied Garvez content for my personal joy)

Requested?: Yes!! :)) “can you do a one shot based off call it what you want??”

Type: Fluffiest Fluff

Word Count: 3K

Content Warnings: None!

“My baby's fly like a jet stream High above the whole scene Loves me like I'm brand new So call it what you want, yeah, call it what you want to”

The team was sure something was going on between Y/N and Spencer, they just weren’t sure how to prove it.

Every sign pointed to the two dating, but the pair hadn’t said anything about it. Maybe they were trying to keep it a secret, but at the same time they didn’t appear to be being very secretive about it.

So ever since Penelope saw Y/N giving Spencer a ride home a week ago, she has been determined to uncover the truth, and hopefully the truth was her two best friends were in the world’s cutest, most perfect relationship.

She was using her technical brilliance to gather data when she was caught by none other than Luke Alvez.

“What are you doing in here?”

“This is my job Luke, I have to be in here,” she rolled her eyes.

“Well, I know that! I mean what are you doing right now, we don’t have a case.” he smirked “Are you committing any cyber crimes? You know you could get in a lot of trouble for those, the FBI won’t help you. You should let me help.”

She smiled, “You do know I got my job here from committing cyber crimes right? I don’t think I would need your help. Besides, I’m working on a personal project.” After some thought she decided Luke might actually be helpful “I’m trying to find out if Spencer and Y/N are dating.”

“I swear I saw them leaving together yesterday, that seems like pretty good evidence! I could be very helpful to you.”

“I’m way ahead of you, but I guess you can help,” she pulled up a new tab, quickly constructing a timeline while Luke pulled a chair next to her. “So our favorite pair’s relationship would, based on my intense experimentation and surveying, begin here,” she traced a circle around the start of the timeline with her cursor, “on that night we went out after the case and then wouldn’t stop talking to each other.”

Luke and Penelope discussed all the things they saw that led them to believe that Y/N and Spencer were more than just friends, from how keen Y/N was to listen to anything that came out of Spencer’s mouth no matter how difficult to follow, to Spencer’s willingness to touch her. After about 15 minutes however they were interrupted by none other than Y/N herself. Penelope quickly switched tabs, so that it now appeared she was just showing Luke a funny kitten video.

“Hey guys! What are you doing in here?” “Oh you know, just wasting time. . . What’s up?” said Luke.

“I was just checking to see if you wanted to go to lunch! If you have any opinions as to where that would be great too because no one out there can make a decision . . .”

“Of course I want lunch! I’ll be out there in just a sec,” Penelope smiled and started closing her work done as soon as Y/N left, almost forgetting Luke’s presence.

“Um, Penelope?”

“What is it Luke?”

“Do you think you’d ever do anything like what Y/N and Spencer are doing?” he asked.

“Like what? Keep a secret? You know I’m terrible at that stuff.”

“No, no I mean like . . .” he took a deep breath, “You know, like dating a coworker?”

“What does that have to do with anything? Now hurry up and come to lunch, we can keep working afterwards,” she replied.

Luke awkwardly smiled, and they both left.

Little did Luke and Penelope know that as they debated and pieced together aspects of Y/N and Spencer’s relationship, trying to uncover if they were dating, Y/N was doing the exact same thing.

Her and Spencer had been on three dates, each more boyfriend and girlfriend than the last. They got coffee one day, then went to a movie, then a nice restaurant for dinner. Tonight Spencer wanted to keep it a surprise, but that just made her even more confused.

Sometimes her and Spencer would sit next to each other at the round table, and now when they did that he would reach over, not to hold her hand, but just to link their pinkies together.

She didn’t know what that meant.

Sometimes Y/N would go on a tangent and realize she had been talking for almost an hour about nothing in particular, and when she realized Spencer was the only one still listening would apologize for wasting his time. To which he would reply, “Why would I be upset about spending time with you?” She didn’t know what that meant.

And one time, on her and Spencer’s first “date” they were about to part their separate directions, and Y/N had no idea what to do with her body or her hands, Spencer wrapped her into a hug, and she swore she felt his lips brushing against the top of her head.

She really didn’t know what that meant.

Which is why she continued to let Penelope and Luke have their fun trying to decipher her and Spencer’s social cues. She knew as soon as she was about to enter to ask about lunch, Penelope was not exactly quiet and Luke wasn’t any better, but she let them believe they were being sneaky.

Besides, maybe if they found the answer they could let her know.

When the team returned from lunch she couldn’t help but continue to contemplate this issue further, Spencer hadn’t really said anything to her at lunch. Were they still just friends? Were they dating but not telling anyone? Were they going to tell anyone?

“Y/N! Are you excited to hang out tonight?” Spencer asked.

Hang out. So it definitely was not a date. . .

“Of course! Right after work right? Your place?”

“Yep! It’s a date,” he smiled and walked away, leaving Y/N in a state of confused panic. What was this? For someone so logical and scientific, Y/N wished that Spencer Reid would just tell her the kingdom, phylum, class, order, family, and genus of their relationship.

Maybe then she could stop dissecting it to try and figure it out.

　♡　　♡　　♡　　♡　　♡　

As Y/N stood outside Spencer’s apartment building, she struggled to muster up courage to go inside. It’s not that she was nervous to hang out with Spencer, it was just Y/N knew she needed to have the “what are we” talk with him for her own personal sanity. And she just wasn’t sure yet what his answer would be.

She had made her way into the building and gotten to Spencer’s floor when she ran into the man of the hour himself.

“Oh there you are! I was about to come down and get you,” he said.

Y/N glanced at her phone, “I’m sorry, am I late?”

“No, no, no. You’re perfect, I just got excited.”

That confused Y/N even more, she couldn’t decide if that leaned more towards friend or date territory. However all of her anxieties were forgotten for a moment as soon as she entered Spencer’s apartment.

Almost all the lights were off, except for several strings of lights shaped like stars, strung in different directions across the room. In the corner were several folded up blankets and sheets, and pillows were spread out across the room.

“Do you like it?”

“I love it, although if I’m being honest I don’t really know what it is . . .”

“13 months ago we were on a case, the one were the unsub was killing couples when they went out camping so that no one would look for them for days, and you said that you used to go camping all the time but you didn’t think you could go anymore. So I bought stuff so we could go camping together, right here.”

Y/N was left almost speechless, “I- I don’t even know what to say, Spencer this is incredible.”

He beamed, instantly satisfied with that answer. “I tried to find a tent, but all of the stores I went to said I should order one online . . . I figured it would be more fun to build a fort instead.”

Spencer brought over the supplies he had bought and gathered, various sheets and comforters, pillows, his leather couch cushions, sleeping bags, a large collection of clothes pins, and some more lights. Except Spencer left a single bag in the pile, the only one from a craft store.

“Do you want me to grab that one?” Y/N asked.

“Oh um, no don’t worry about that one. I saw something stupid on that site JJ and Garcia really like while I was passing JJ’s desk. . . Pinterest? Yes that’s it. And I tried to make it but even though I memorized the instructions I couldn’t get it to work. . . I kind of just gave up and threw everything in there.”

“Can I try it?”

He nodded, and Y/N got up and glanced into the bag, in it was a push light, warm toned tissue paper and a couple empty paper towel rolls, all stuck together, but also somehow falling apart. Y/N couldn’t help but smile, “Were you trying to build me a campfire Dr. Reid?”

“Well you said that your family used to have this big bonfire every year, and that it used to be one of your favorite traditions until you couldn’t handle going anymore, so I thought I could make one that would be a little safer for you. Turns out that you actually need four PHDs to be good at crafts though.”

“Spencer this whole date is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me . . . Thank you.”

“Of course, I really want you to enjoy yourself when you're around me Y/N.”

“Spencer, I’ve never not enjoyed myself when I’m around you, and you were with me when I got shot. You’re my favorite person, you do know that right?”

He blushed, “You’re my favorite person too Y/N.”

So the two lovers built a blanket fort, draping sheets over string lights and shoving the inside full of pillows and blankets, giggling the entire time. Y/N taught Spencer the simplicity of DIY projects, and how sometimes the directions needed to be adjusted slightly based on personal preferences and ability. Soon the pair were cuddled up together on the ground, no other space to be except for right next to each other, as the rest of the fort was covered by snacks, pillows, their homemade campfire, and Spencer’s vinyl record player.

“Did you do this on purpose? Making me be so close to you?”

“No, I would never, it’s not my fault this area is so small . . . “

“Mhm, although I’m sure a genius like you could figure out how to make an adult sized fort, I’m very glad you didn’t,” she said, giggling and squishing herself closer to him. They smiled and kissed each other, before Spencer spoke.

“You make me so, unbelievably, happy. I never thought I could feel like this until we met Y/N.”

Y/N smiled even bigger, “Spencer I really, really like you,” she paused, it was now or never, “but um, what do you want to call this, like what we’re doing.”

“Well what do you want this to be? Because I want you to be my girlfriend.”

She smiled, “I want you to be my boyfriend.”

“Well then that’s what we’ll be,” he said, kissing her on the forehead.

“Well you do know the team, particularly Penelope and Luke have the exact same question.”

“Well I think more than Luke wondering if we’re dating, I think he’s just wondering if Penelope will date him. . . So I say let them have their fun for a little while, before we tell everyone.”

She smiled, “Perfect. They’re profilers, they’ll figure it out eventually.”

“Well, I think we should watch a movie. . . Although I mostly enjoy my cinema in Russian, tonight is about you and I don’t want to give you a headache. What’s your favorite?”

“You’re going to laugh at me.”

“I promise I will not laugh at you darling.”

“High School Musical 3.”

　♡　　♡　　♡　　♡　　♡　

So Y/N spent the rest of that night explaining the plot of the first two High School Musical movies, then explaining why the third one was the clear winner, and then finally showing Spencer the third one off of her phone, where she had it saved to her cloud for emergencies.

And although singing and dancing adults pretending to be teenagers was not exactly Spencer’s favorite genre, he loved how happy the series as a whole made Y/N. So he latched onto it, and learned as much as he could about it.

One particular scene however, in one of the earlier films, seemed to make Y/N extra excited, as she spent the longest amount of time talking about it. So Spencer decided he knew exactly what to do to prove to her he was in this relationship for the long haul.

Spencer could tell she was anxious before their date, and it didn’t take him long to guess that it was because she didn’t know how serious everything was to him. Yet, he didn’t want to be too obvious that he wanted her to be his, because if he had assessed wrong he would make a complete fool out of himself.

But when she asked him, she seemed so nervous, so small, he knew he had made a mistake in waiting, and now he wanted to make it up to her.

So as she was walking in the next day he caught her. “Y/N!”

“Hi Spencer! What’s up?”

“I have a present for you. . .” he said, handing her a small box wrapped in shiny gold paper.

“For me? Why?”

“Oh you know, just because. . .”

As Y/N unwrapped the box, Spencer got more and more nervous… What if she hated it? What if she thought it was stupid or too soon or didn’t get it or-

“Oh my god Spencer I-”

“You know what it’s stupid, I don’t even know why I got it for you. I can return it and find you something you’ll actually like-”

“I love it Spencer, it’s perfect. Will you put it on me?”

Spencer hooked the chain around his new girlfriend’s neck, the small “S” pendant shining in the light.

“It’s like Gabriella’s. . . I love it. I can’t believe you would care to remember something like that…”

“Of course I would remember that. I have an eidetic memory. Did you know that although the original purpose and origin of initial jewelry was largely unknown, they date back to the 14th century?”

“No, I just mean… It’s very thoughtful Spencer.”

He smiled, “Well I’m sorry to kill the mood, but I really have to go to the bathroom. I drank 3 cups of coffee this morning and I was standing here waiting for you for 18 minutes and 4 seconds before you came in.”

She laughed, and then hugged him, “Well don’t just stand here! Go!”

Spencer ran off, leaving Y/N to walk into the bullpen alone. As Y/N was making her way to her desk, she was stopped by none other than Penelope Garcia and Luke Alvez, Penelope up front, Luke standing a foot or so behind her, ready to back her up.

“Y/N! We know your secret, you and Spencer are secretly dating. . . We figured it out this morning. You can’t hide from us anymore,” Penelope said, Luke nodding behind her.

“Well yeah we’re dating, but it’s not a secret.”

“What? Excuse me? You haven’t told anyone!”

“Yeah but we haven’t really made any effort to hide it? We told everyone about the time we went to the movies?”

“Yeah but- Um, we just thought we were being sneaky. . .” Penelope said.

“You might wanna get a little better at that guys, the Bat Cave is not soundproof.”

“Dang it, I really need to work on that…” Penelope said. “Well Luke Alvez, I suppose our quest has been conquered.”

“See! We were right, I told you I’m great help,” Luke said.

“Oh don’t get it too twisted, this was almost all me.”

After a moment of playful banter, Y/N stopped them “So when are you two going to start “secretly” dating huh?”

“Uh hmph, I don’t know what you talking about. I would never,” Penelope said.

At that moment, Spencer returned from the bathroom, and came up upon Y/N hugging her from behind and leaning to rest his head on her shoulder. “What are we talking about?”

Penelope threw her head back in defeat, “Nothing, 187, we were just talking. . .”

“Don’t you think Luke and Penelope would make the cutest couple Spencer?” Y/N smirked.

“You know what? Yeah I do!” Spencer played along, “Have you guys ever thought about that?

Luke was beaming behind Penelope, while she looked like she was trying to hide her enthusiasm. “No actually I haven’t,” she said.

“Well you definitely should,” Y/N said, giggling as her and Spencer walked to his desk.

“Hey, wait come back here! What does your necklace have on it?” Penelope asked, half running after them, Luke closely behind her.

“Whatever you want Penelope, whatever you want.”

“I want to wear his initial On a chain round my neck, chain round my neck Not because he owns me But 'cause he really knows me”

Thank you so much for reading!! Please reblog and let me know what you think :)))

holly’s tiny taglist: @reidingmelodies @hercleverboy @rigatonireid @muffin-cup @takeyourleap-of-faith @wheelsup @s1utformgg @averyhotchner @widow-cevans @rotinireid

please let me know if you would like to be added or removed :))

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kookiesbuckethat · 4 years ago

Text

he forgets your birthday

Jin x f!reader

Genre: angst to fluff, hurt/comfort

WC: 1.1k

ding!

You look over to your phone as the screen lights up with a text from your boyfriend, Jin. You had texted him two hours ago asking if he could come over for dinner tonight. His text reads,

Jin: sorry babe, the boys planned a karaoke night. Maybe tomorrow?

You text back,

Y/n: sure no problem. have fun

You sigh, placing your phone back down on your desk and leaning back in your chair. It sucked to have an assignment due on your birthday, and having dinner with Jin was the only thing keeping you motivated.

Having suddenly lost your reason to work, you shut your laptop and lay your head on your desk.

He couldn’t have forgotten. Right?

Wallowing in self-pity about how miserable your birthday has been, you close your eyes and allow sleep to take over.

After about an hour of karaoke, the boys sit down and take a break. Taking a sip of water, J-Hope looks over at Jin, “Is it really okay for you to be here? You could’ve invited y/n too, you know.”

Jin tilts his head in confusion, “Why wouldn’t it be okay? Y/n isn’t like that,” he says. One of the things he’s grateful for is how understanding you are; although you prefer if he tells you where he’s going, you don’t mind if he goes places without you, you just want to make sure he’s safe.

“But isn’t today her birthday?” Jimin questions with a raised eyebrow.

“It is?” Jin asks with wide eyes.

Everyone’s jaws drop at his cluelessness. “Hyung!” Jungkook looks at Jin in disbelief and shoves him into the couch.

“Ow ow!” Jin yells while leaning away from Jungkook. He grabs his phone and checks the date. “Oh my God it is! How did I forget? Why did you guys let me come here?!” he yells at the other members.

“Don’t yell at us, this is your fault,” Yoongi says, pointing at Jin accusingly.

He panics while throwing his coat on and grabbing his stuff. “Tell y/n we say happy birthday!” Taehyung yells after Jin as he rushes out of the karaoke room.

You groan as you’re woken up from your phone ringing and you pick it up without checking who’s calling. “Hello?” you answer with a yawn.

“Y/n!” Jin yells into the phone. You cringe at the volume of his voice and move the phone away from your ear. “Jin? Is everything okay?” you ask, brows furrowed. “Where are you? Are you home?” he asks. He sounds like he’s running.

You nod even though you know he can’t see you. “Yeah, I have an assignment due tonight so,” you trail off, sighing when you remember the work you still have to do.

“Stay there!” He demands before hanging up the phone. Confused, you pull the phone away from your ear and stare at the black screen. You shrug, rubbing your neck that was sore from falling asleep at your desk before getting back to work.

About half an hour later, you’ve just submitted your assignment when you hear someone knocking frantically at your front door. You close your laptop and stand up from your desk, stretching before yelling “I’m coming!”

When you open the door, you’re met with Jin who’s folded over, panting with his hands on his knees and trying to catch his breath. “Jin?” you ask confused. He suddenly engulfs you in a hug and you can feel his heart beating rapidly under his coat. Did he run all the way here?

“Happy birthday,” he says still trying to catch his breath, “I’m sorry I completely forgot what day it was.”

You laugh at his bluntness before pulling away. “It’s okay,” you say while wiping the sweat on his forehead. You let him inside and take the plastic bag that was in his right hand. “What’s this?” you ask.

“A cake of course,” he says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Not realizing how hungry you were until now, you excitedly place the cake on the table.

He takes his coat off while you grab a plate, a knife and two forks from the kitchen. As you two feed each other cake, you playfully swipe some icing on your finger and place it on his nose. He goes cross-eyed as he looks at his nose. “How dare you? I’m World Wide Handsome you know!” he yells loudly as you laugh so hard you almost fall out of your chair.

Although you’ve already forgiven him, he still feels guilty for forgetting your birthday and is determined to make it up to you. He wants to make you laugh and smile so much that you forget how sad and lonely you were earlier today.

Once you guys finish eating and cleaning up, you let out a yawn as it was 11:28pm. “Shouldn’t you be heading home? You need to make sure you get enough rest you know,” you lecture him.

“Aw come on it’s your birthday, let me spend more time with you,” he whines while he bends down to pick you up. You wrap your arms around his shoulders as he carries you to your room, placing you near the foot of your bed. You sit on your bed cross-legged as he grabs the guitar from its stand in the corner of your room and sits on the bed in front of you.

He strums the strings a few times looking up at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. You raise an eyebrow at him before he starts strumming the guitar aggressively, singing so loudly his voice cracks. You can’t help but giggle as you watch his performance, feeling sorry for your neighbours.

When he finishes the song, you’re laughing so hard that you’re struggling to breathe. He can’t help but stare and admire you. Your laugh was the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard and your smile was the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

He adjusts the guitar and clears his throat.“Another special song for the birthday girl,” he announces as you calm down. Playing the guitar, his fingers move skillfully to form each chord. You close your eyes as a small smile forms on your face while you listen to Jin’s beautiful voice, swaying slowly to the melody.

Once the song finishes and he plucks the final strings, he looks up at you with a small smile before placing the guitar down. Unable to contain your happiness, you climb into his lap and wrap your arms around his shoulders, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck. “Thank you Jin. This was the best birthday ever,” you say as you smile into his shoulder.

He wraps his arms around your waist, rubbing your back. “Of course. Happy birthday babe,” he says before leaning back and pulling the covers over the two of you. You start to drift off, happy and safe in Jin’s arms as he places a kiss on your forehead.

#bts fanfic #jin fanfic #seokjin fanfic #bts x reader #jin x reader #seokjin x reader #bts #kim seokjin #Jin #seokjin #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts fluff #bts angst #jin fluff #jin angst #seokjin fluff #seokjin angst

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heliads · 4 years ago

Text

The Issue of the Dance

You’re best friends with Draco Malfoy, that much is a given. When you’re asked to the Yule Ball by a Durmstrang student, however, Draco seems oddly irritated.

masterlist

You may be trying to do your homework, but that doesn’t mean you can’t feel your best friend’s gaze burning away at the back of your head. Draco Malfoy has been trying to get your attention for the better part of ten minutes now, but you’re not any more likely to give up and look over at him than you had before. This essay is due tomorrow, you have better things to do then respond to your friend.

Eventually, Draco resorts to more advanced measures, and seconds later, you feel a piece of crumpled paper hit your arm. You don’t spare it a second thought, merely turning over the page in the textbook in front of you. You can hear him sigh in irritation and smile to yourself. You can only mess with him for so long, so you pick it up, carefully uncrumpling the paper to see what is written inside.

It’s blank. Forgetting your forced silence, you turn around and give Draco a look. He’s sprawled in one of the mahogany and viridian silk armchairs sequestered around the fireplace, and he looks up triumphantly when he sees he’s finally made you glance away from your homework. You hold up the paper in one hand. “Really? You’re throwing parchment at me? I thought it could at least be something interesting, like a note.”

Draco grins. “I can give you a note, if that makes you feel better.” You roll your eyes. “It will not. I’m going back to my essay.” Draco leans forward, snapping your textbook shut with one hand. “No, we’re talking. I’m bored.” You reach for the textbook, which is being held out of your reach. “No, we’re not. I have things to be doing that don’t involve entertaining you. Go talk to Crabbe or Goyle.”

Draco sighs. “They wouldn’t know how to have a conversation unless I guided them through it by hand.” You do your best to hold back a laugh. “They’re your friends. You’re so mean.” Draco raises an eyebrow. “I’m not wrong. They’re idiots. That’s why you’re my closest friend, darling, because you actually have the ability to think.”

This time, you can’t stop your laugh. “Darling? That almost makes up for the fact that you think we’re friends solely because I don’t have the brain of a five year old.” Draco smirks shamelessly. “Do you have a problem with that?” You shrug. “I guess I do.” With that, you turn back to your essay at hand, grateful your turned back hides the smile on your face as you hear Draco groan in annoyance behind you.

“Fine, we’re not just friends because of that. Now can you stop ignoring me? It’s going to be a long night for both of us if you do.” You point your quill at him without turning around. “Fine. Will you please stop ignoring me?” Draco asks, and your smile grows. “Fine, I guess I will. Happy?” You turn around once more, and Draco matches your smile. “Very.”

There’s a sound of approaching footsteps behind you, and seconds later, your friend Blaise Zabini slumps down into an armchair next to the two of you. “Honestly, Malfoy, you’re making me sick. Can’t you two stop flirting and just go out with each other? You’re ruining my evening.” Draco gives Blaise a look riddled with disdain. “We are not dating, Blaise, we’re friends. Just that and nothing more.”

Blaise raises an eyebrow. “Then why do you bother her more than anyone else?” You flash him a grin. “Because we’re best friends. I’ve earned the title.” Blaise rolls his eyes. “You’re both terrible.” You shrug. “Is that why you’re also our friend? You’re the one who came over here.” Blaise points at you in agreement. “Exactly. I’m not here to bicker about Malfoy’s questionable habits, I’m here to talk about the Yule Ball. If we want to have a good showing we’ll have to form closer alliances with the Durmstrang students.”

You roll your eyes. “Honestly, Blaise, it’s just a dance. You’re making it sound like a council of war.” Draco glances over at you. “He’s not wrong. Having international ties could never hurt. This would be the best place to do it.” You groan, slumping down onto the table in front of you and burying your face in your arms. “Both of you?” Blaise folds his arms in front of his chest. “What, you don’t like the Durmstrang guys? They might seem a little intimidating, but they’re students like the rest of us.”

You shake your head. “Not from the way you’re talking about them. They might as well be businessmen.” Blaise waves this away with his hand. “I’m sure you’ll be fine. Look, there’s a group just coming back from the library. You could talk to them, make some friends.” You sit up, a slight smile crossing your face. “I don’t need to. One of them has already asked me to the Yule Ball.” Blaise stares. “Which one?” You return his gaze, feeling an air of victory. “Henrik Rybar.”

Blaise leans back against the chair. “He’s one of the best in the class! How’d you manage that?” You give him an affronted look. “My natural charm, obviously. Do you still want to make conversation with them tomorrow?” Blaise rolls his eyes, but a grin flickers across his face when he glances over at Draco. “You alright there, Malfoy? You look a little distressed.”

Sure enough- Draco hasn’t said a word all this time, just stewing in something that looks almost like malice. If you didn’t know better, you’d say he was jealous. “No, nothing’s the matter. Say, I think I left something in the dormitory. I’d best go get it.” He stands up hurriedly and leaves just as quickly. You and Blaise are left to sit alone, an expression of intrigue growing on Blaise’s face.

“Just friends, my arse.” You swat him with the edge of your parchment, but even this can’t seem to get you back into high spirits. You had assumed Draco would be impressed or at least not angry over the fact that Henrik was taking you to the dance- he’s of a prominent magical family, and Draco’s been trying to get the three of you into his good graces for a while. So why is it that he seems so unhappy now?

By the time the Yule Ball rolls around, you’re almost thinking that the dance is more trouble than it’s worth. Draco has been pretending that he wasn’t affected by this at all, that you’re still nothing more than friends, but you can see mute vexation simmering away behind his eyes. The Durmstrang students all sit at the Slytherin table with the rest of you, so it’s not like tensions are eased at all. When Henrik sits next to Draco, the platinum blond boy’s jaw seems to clench. When Henrik sits next to you, well, Draco seems about to punch the guy himself.

However, it’s not like he’s alone in feeling unhappy. Barely a day had gone by after you revealed that you were going to the dance with Henrik that Draco found himself a date- none other than Pansy Parkinson. You suppose you’re not surprised- Pansy has been eyeing Draco for practically her entire life. She’s a Slytherin just like you, so she shares your cunning, your drive to get what you want. Is it really that much of a shock that she would manage to get her hooks in Draco somehow?

You don’t know why you keep thinking of Draco asking Pansy to the ball like it’s somehow Pansy’s fault. Pansy couldn’t have made him ask her any more than another Slytherin girl short of drugging him with a love potion, and he isn’t exactly besotted enough for that. You know that Draco must have asked Pansy for a good reason, a legitimate reason, yet you keep thinking of it like this is Pansy’s decision, not Draco’s. Like if you just phrase it the right way, Draco won’t have feelings for her, like he didn’t ask her to the ball because they were more than friends. Friends is, of course, all that Draco and you will ever be. You would do well to remember it.

Finally, it is the night of the Yule Ball. To be honest, you find yourself a little relieved that it will all be soon over. Draco’s been stiff and wordless with you as of late, like he’s trying to hide something. It only started after Henrik asked you to the dance and Draco asked Pansy, and you have a sinking feeling that this sudden avoidance has something to do with it. If only the dance were over, you could finally go back to what you had before.

Even with all of this, you can’t deny that this night feels magical. You’ve spent days talking about it with your friends, planning out outfits and hair and makeup until you practically felt exhausted. Now, staring at yourself in the mirror, you can’t help but feel a glow rush to your cheeks. You look, to put it simply-

“Amazing. You look gorgeous, Y/N.”

You smile up at Henrik. He looks nice too- like the other Durmstrang students, he’s donned a crimson dress coat with dark fur lining. You suppose it’s traditional for the Durmstrang students, but it does suit him. You yourself wear a gown of deepest indigo, with a skirt of swirling silk that swishes around your ankles until you feel like you could spin for hours and never stop. Even so, his compliment brings a smile to your face.

“You look wonderful yourself.” Henrik returns your smile. “You are too kind. Shall we go in?” He offers you an arm, leading you through the halls and into the stone atrium leading to the Great Hall. Pairs of students mill about, exchanging compliments on dress robes and hair styles whilst secretly checking out what everyone else has decided to wear or do. Yule Balls are out of the ordinary in a school that specializes in the peculiar, so of course everyone who’s anyone is talking about it.

After a few minutes of waiting, the doors open, and the pairs of students begin to file into the Great Hall, led by the Triwizard Champions and their partners. They, of course, are given the first dance, and then everyone else takes to the floor. You are pleasantly surprised to find that Henrik is an excellent dancer, but for every perfect turn and step, you realize you’re looking for someone else, someone with a shock of platinum hair who is not here dancing with you at all.

You don’t realize you’re searching for him until you see him. Draco is dancing with Pansy across the room, laughing formally at a joke she must have said. She’s dressed in emerald green- Slytherin colors, what a surprise. Draco has always felt shielded by his house pride, so of course she would know to dress in that color for him. They look practically perfect together.

“He is your friend, no? Malfoy?” You jerk back to reality, realizing you must have been staring. “What? Yes, we’re in the same house.” Henrik nods. “He was looking for you earlier, I think. Before you came down.” You smile despite yourself. “I’ve known him for a while.” Henrik starts to open his mouth, presumably to ask you another question about Draco, but you find you don’t want to speak about him right now, so you hurriedly ask him a question about Durmstrang. Henrik’s eyes light up, and he begins to speak in earnest about his school. At last, something to distract him.

When you look back, Draco and Pansy are gone, swallowed up by the crowd. If you were smart, you would turn your attention back to your date, back to the boy who actually asked you out in the first place. Yet you keep looking for the one who didn’t, for the one who’d looked at you with something like betrayal in his eyes when he found out you would be going to the dance with someone else.

After a couple more songs, Henrik excuses himself to speak to a friend, and strides off across the Great Hall. Now that you’re alone, the noise and action of the room seems to echo off of the walls, the sound of the band playing and conversation reaching an ear-piercing din. You make your way through the crowd to reach the doors, slipping into the grateful quiet of the hall outside. You’ve barely taken a few steps, though, when you sense that you’re not alone.

“Y/N?”

You turn to see Draco, silhouetted against the bright lights still seeping out of the Great Hall. His eyes linger on you. “You look nice.” Somehow, these few words manage to outrank a hundred compliments from Henrik. “So do you.” You’re not just adding pleasantries this time- his black suit jacket is a crisp contrast to the white lines of his dress robes. Henrik’s robes almost look garish in comparison.

You clear your throat. “What are you doing away from the ball? I thought you would be dancing.” Draco gives you a rueful smile. “I could say the same thing about you. Henrik’s a prestigious wizard, he would be a good partner.” Somehow, you get the feeling he’s not just talking about a dance. “He’s not exactly my type. I don’t know him well enough.” Draco smiles now, a real smile. He holds out his hand from where it had been pressed at his side, and you realize that he’s been holding a necklace in his hand. It has links of gold looped together to support a pendant in the middle, one shaped like a teardrop.

“I was going to give this to Pansy, but it doesn’t really match her dress. She went more along the lines of silver. Would you mind if I give it to you instead?” You shake your head quietly, unable to say anything lest you disturb the quiet peace that hangs over you. You turn around, and seconds later you feel the pendant settle against your throat, Draco’s hands inches away as he fastens the clasp behind you.

When you turn around, his eyes linger on the pendant for just a second longer. At last, he speaks, and he has the rushed energy as if he’s not entirely sure that he’s saying the words until he does. “I wanted it to be you, you know. I was going to ask you, and then he did. I didn’t know what to do.” You stare at him. “You-”

Draco cuts you off. “I know we always joked about just being friends, but I wouldn’t have minded if we were wrong this once.” You feel a laugh bubbling to your chest, incredulous and utterly happy. “You could have said that earlier, you dunce. All this time, we’ve been tossing the same lie back and forth. You could have asked me.” Draco grins, the same cocky, impossible, utterly lovesick grin you’ve seen before. “Guess I was waiting for the right moment.”

You raise an eyebrow. “And what exactly is the right moment?” You’re almost expecting it when he kisses you. It feels like closure, like you’ve been waiting for this for a while. It feels like home.

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy imagines #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy oneshot #harry potter #harry potter imagines #harry potter x reader #harry potter onseshot #draco imagines #draco x reader #draco oneshot

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free-pancakes · 4 years ago

Note

Ok this is super cheesy but here goes; hanji: "you don't look like a professional criminal" levi: "oh sorry, let me go make myself look like Hannibal lector or something" sorry its rlly cheap but I wanna see some sort of crime au or whatever. Love ur drabbles btw! Keep it up! :)

oh gosh anon, this has been sitting in my inbox for months, i'm so sorry! might be a lil boring, but! i'm all for stupid levihan banter and it made me really happy to write this :) hope u like it!

Under the cover of night, a hooded figure crept through darkness. On the security cameras, it was nothing but a questionable shadow—blink once and it was gone. That’s how it always went.

“What the—“

Reiner turned, peering down the outdoor alleyway. His fellow security guard was no longer standing under a small lamp hanging above the corner of the building.

“B-Bertholdt?” he called?

Before Reiner could call out once more, he heard a voice whispering behind him into his right ear.

“If you open the door, I’ll let you off easy.”

Eyeing the crowbar on the ground, Reiner reached quickly. But he was too late—a hand grabbed him by the forearm. He struggled and was quickly brought to the ground.

“How could someone so small bring me down so fast??” he thought. Before he could even elbow back, he felt a needle sink into his neck, and he yelled out.

The hooded figure stood up.

“Just a small sedative—don’t worry. You won’t remember that a guy half your size took u down in less than...” He peered at his wristwatch—“20 seconds.”

As the hooded teen stood up, a small buzz vibrated in his pocket.

He unlocked his phone, the glow lighting up his face, the dark circles under his eyes now looking much more prominent.

A text from Erwin: “Levi, thermal imaging shows no one else in the building. Meet back with Nanaba in an hour.”

Levi shoved his phone back into his pocket, and got to work. He lifted a limp Reiner off the ground and dragged his arm up to the sensor, pressing his thumb against the fingerprint scanner—“Access Granted” blinked on the small screen as he heard the little click of the door unlocking from the inside. He dusted his hands off on his grey denim jeans, and crept inside.

The slight squeaking of his sneakers on the metal floor panels echoed as he searched for the room he was looking for. On his way he saw a pair of glasses resting on a side table at the end of a hallway, which he found quite strange—who’d just forget their glasses? Erwin confirmed no one else was around. After a few seconds, he decided to shrug it off.

Finally, he reached the last door in the winding hallway. Shining a special penlight, he watched as fingerprints appeared on the keypad on the doorknob, and once he figured out his code, he punched it in with the end of his penlight, and he was in.

Levi breathed a sigh of relief, and pulled down his hood. His least favorite part of the job—he had always been more of the fighter of their team, the brawn, not exactly the brains. But Mike made sure he learned how to break into computer systems, and Levi absolutely hated that process, with Mike’s constant teasing at how dense his brain was to this stuff. Levi grumbled as he sat down, figuring his way in.

Maybe 10 minutes passed, and he continued to struggle figuring his way through the complicated firewalls. In frustration he buried his head into hands for a few seconds, and took a deep breath. Before he could look back up, he suddenly felt a hand pat his back encouragingly.

“There, there, you almost got it!”

Completely startled, Levi jumped up, knocking down the chair he was sitting on and assumed a fighting stance, fists up beside his face. He was caught off guard and completely unprepared: he had no more sedative syringes left, no other weapons on hand. He stared at the person who stood before him, probably the same age as him—no more than 19—a smile on their face, brown hair falling out of the poor hair tie trying to hold the mess up, a can of soda in their right hand and a small bag of chips in their left and— they were wearing the same pair of glasses he saw outside?

His mind raced.

How did they sneak in without him noticing just now? Why are they holding snacks in their hands? Why in God’s name were they smiling at him? And most importantly, they were wearing those glasses, so they had to have been around when a Erwin did the thermal scan—how did they manage to go undetected??

Obnoxious crunching roused him from his thoughts. Mouth full of half-chewed chips, they answered: “Oh! Yes! My friend Moblit and I managed to invent this little guy help us evade thermal scanners! No one knows we’ve been spending nights here for years!” They said as they pointed down to a small metal band around their ankle.

Levi was so shocked, he didn’t even realized he said that last thought out loud. He didn’t know what to do exactly, but they didn’t… seem like a threat…

Levi grumbled, and returned to his work, and she blabbered on and on about how their “cooling band” or whatever the hell they called it work as he kept trying to break through the firewall. He almost regretted not tying them up and slapping tape over their mouth so he could concentrate—the next comment was the last straw.

“You’re pretty scrawny, I was quite shocked when I watched you take down those 2 buffoons that call themselves security guards. You know… you don't look like a professional criminal!”

Levi almost threw the keyboard against the wall.

“Oh sorry, let me go make myself look like Hannibal Lector or something, Four-Eyes!”

They smiled.

“Wow, a nickname! So we’re friends already, Levi!”

Levi paused, “…How did you know my name?”

“It’s right here! Levi Ackerman… Address: 126—“ they listed off as they read off the driver’s license ID they pulled out of his wallet.

Levi snatched his wallet back. “When the hell did you take that??”

He almost screamed in annoyance. “Instead of just sitting here annoying the hell out of me or some shit, why don’t you help me or something??”

They walked up behind Levi, rested their chin nonchalantly on his shoulder, and reached their arms around him towards the keyboard.

Levi felt blood rush to his cheeks. Why—what? Why did they have to type this way?? Why was he blushing??

And in less than 30 seconds, they broke into the computer, the “Zeke Inc.” logo disappearing, and the desktop glowing, open on the screen.

Levi’s jaw dropped, and when he finally registered what happened, he yelled:

“WHY DIDN’T YOU DO THAT FROM THE BEGINNING??”

They put their hands on their hips and retorted:

“Well, you didn’t ask until now!”

Before Levi could flip the desk in frustration, an alarm sounded from his phone. He only had 5 minutes left before he had to make his way out of there. Quickly, he rushed in, scrolling through shipments for supplies, rerouting their destinations.

“Oh… so you’re like a… a gloomy Robin Hood huh? Small boy steals from big boy company to distribute resources to those who need it? A criminal… or an anti-hero maybe!”

“Oh wait!” They leaned in next to Levi once more—“Here, this is faster,” they whispered while hitting a few more keyboard shortcuts, doubling the amount of shipments.

“Hange, what are you doing??” A young boy stood in the doorway, the same metal band on his ankle.

Levi’s alarm sounded, and he began to wipe down the keyboard of his fingerprints and grab his backpack.

“Hange are you sure we can trust him?” Moblit asked as Hange took off the metal band from their ankle.

Hange winked in response.

“Oi, Levi!”

Levi turned in the doorway, quickly raising his hands to catch the band Hange threw at him.

“Take it!” They yelled, and the heavy door shut right in front of him, leaving him alone in his thoughts.

Levi stared at the band in his palm, and gently wrapped his fingers around it.

“Thanks,” he whispered, and ran off.

As Levi ran under the night sky, he looked at the intricate tech in his hand, and noticed the color yellow peeking out from under it. Flipping it over in his palm, he found a yellow sticky note, which read:

“We’ll trade you our tech for housing if you have space, gloomy Robin Hood! Maybe we could even steal from something big like Marley Corp. someday! If you’re in, find me back here tomorrow night! - Four-Eyes”

Levi carefully folded the note and put it in his pocket.

“Levi?” Nanaba called as he approached.

“Didn’t recognize you—are you… happy about something?”

Levi inadvertently reached his hand up to his face, feeling how his lips curved upwards. He couldn’t remember the last time he ever smiled. His mind was fixated on the note in his pocket, the image of Hange’s face smiling at him etched clearly in his mind.

“…I guess I am, Nana.”

#levihan #levihan fanfic #levi ackerman #hange zoe #levi x hanji #levihan fanfiction #ask #replies #drabble #moblit berner #erwin smith #nanaba

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 4 years ago

Text

Real? Not Real?

Prompt: Uh hello, I just wanna day that I really really love your work. I came across it this morning and I’ve been binging it all day, and you are a REALLY good writer :) if it’s not too much to ask (and feel free to ignore this), could I request one of the Sides (preferably Janus) having a bad day and derealizing and another one (preferably Patton or Remus, but really any work) comforting them and helping them get grounded? Maybe something that is after the wedding, with everyone at odds with each other so no one notices at first?

Thanks for the prompt, babe!

Read on Ao3

Warnings: disassociation, derealizing, some things that could be interpreted as self-destruction

Pairings: none, other than platonic moceit and dukeceit

Word Count: 2287

The wall is yellow.

The wall isn’t yellow.

The wall is yellow.

Janus pushes his door closed and sighs, leaning against the wood and taking his hat off. He scruffs a hand through his hair and lets his head thunk against the door.

“Well,” he mutters, “that wasn’t exhausting.”

The conversation had dragged on for hours; from picking apart every little idiosyncrasy and explaining every other word, it’s a wonder he had any energy left to even sink to his room.

Well, he didn’t. That’s the point.

He heaves himself up off the floor, stumbling a little when his body decides that no, actually, we’re going to remain on the floor because we dislike you personally.

“Thank you,” he grits out as he fights the urge to collapse back to the floor, “no, really, I wanted to be able to fall over as soon as I tried to move.”

When the floor looks like it stops spinning for a few seconds at a time, he reaches for his cane and shuffles over to the desk. The chair creaks a little in protest as he all but collapses into it. He tosses his hat toward the coat rack, missing terribly, and rips his gloves off.

“Ah!”

Janus cups his hand around his wrist, biting back a curse as the glove catches on the underside of an older scale. He glances around. The first-aid kit is on the other shelf.

“Damn.”

He could just…stretch out and get it? Probably? He swallows and reaches. And reaches. And reaches.

Why—why can’t he touch the shelf?

Controlling limbs gets exponentially easier the longer and more disembodied they get. All the time.

Janus grits his teeth and concentrates, closing his eyes until his fingers bump against the shelf.

“Thank you,” he mutters as he brings the first aid kit back to his side. “That was certainly the picture of compliance.”

The first aid kit, because it is an inanimate object—or rather, a collection of inanimate objects—says nothing.

Trying to apply first aid one-handed is such fun. He ends up holding back the sleeve with his teeth as he rubs the ointment onto the patch left by the scale. The wrapper sticks to his fingers with the determination of a static-filled leech, refusing to budge even as he pries it off with one hand only for it to attach viciously to the other.

“Get off!”

It flutters down to lay infuriatingly close to the trash can.

Or is it in the trash can?

He reaches down to pick it up and put it inside. He can’t feel it through his gloves. So he takes them off. Maybe then it won’t get stuck. It lands in the trashcan noiselessly.

Muttering to himself, he gets his gloves on their spot on his desk and goes about getting the rest of this stuff off. Snakes aren’t supposed to run warm, so why can’t he feel anything?

He goes to undo the clasp on his cape only for his fingers to meet the soft fabric of his shirt. Oh. He must’ve taken it off already. Wait, did he even put it on when he left?

He glances over to see it hanging on the hook by the door. Exactly where it was when he woke up this morning. Or was it? Wasn’t it draped over his chair? No, that was when he was about to leave.

No, he put it on his doorknob, didn’t he? To make sure he didn’t forget it?

But he never forgets his cape.

Janus shakes his head, immediately regretting it when the action sends him into a dizzy spell. God, why is he so tired?

It doesn’t matter, he decides, because he was going to take his cape off but now he doesn’t have to because it’s already off. So he can take his shirt off now.

But first, he should take his gloves off. Trying to undo shirt buttons with gloves on is a tedious process.

His fingers scratch the bandage over a spot on his hand. That’s funny. He doesn’t feel any pain coming from it. Maybe it’s healed already?

No, no, he just put that bandage on.

“Get yourself together,” he scolds himself, going to undo the buttons, “you’re being ridiculous.”

Is he, though?

He spent so long observing and mirroring the others today, just to get in the habit of it when he needs to, that is it really a surprise that he can’t really remember what his own limbs are doing?

Yes. Yes, it is.

His shirt lies in the corner. He doesn’t remember putting it there. He’s still wearing it, he hasn’t gotten all the buttons off yet. His fingers touch his bare scales. Oh. Maybe he has.

Why does it look like it’s the wrong color?

Janus squints hard at the offending pile of fabric lurking in the corner. As he stares, the fabric moirés into a dizzying display. He blinks. That shirt isn’t patterned. It’s just a plain white shirt. Why is it doing that? Is it doing that? Are Janus’s eyes doing that?

He crosses the room, stumbling a little as he gets up—since when has that table been there?—and grabs the shirt. It folds and bends and warps around his fingers. It should be cool to the touch. The fabric is soft, normally.

He can only tell he’s supposedly squeezing it from the wrinkles that appear around his fists.

“This doesn’t belong here,” he mutters, going to put it in the laundry basket.

The laundry basket is not where it’s supposed to be.

“Fuck.”

Did he leave it downstairs? That’s always a risky move; Remus will capitalize on any opportunity to completely and utterly destroy any abandoned object. He turns to go rescue his laundry basket only for it to appear out of the corner of his eye.

Oh.

Has it been there the whole time?

Janus frowns. He looks at the laundry basket, he looks at the shirt, he looks at his cape, he looks at his gloves.

The bandage on his wrist should be itching.

It isn’t.

Why not?

Oh.

He smiles to himself and lets the shirt fall to the ground.

Right, how could he forget?

This isn’t real.

None of this is real. He doesn’t exist. He is a figment of Thomas’s imagination, created as part of an elaborate plan to explore personality facets for entertainment purposes. He is not real. He cannot exist in any way that matters.

That is why the first aid kit won’t speak to him. That is why his shirt creates patterns that are impossible. That is why the laundry basket keeps appearing and disappearing. They’re not real. None of it is real.

He is not real.

The walks flicker a pale white as he sinks slowly to the ground, staring up at the fake ceiling. The floor is not solid under him. His legs do not groan and scream in protest as he lies his nonexistent weight across them. His eyes do not fog up. His head does not throb. The door does not feel like a cage, trapping him in a spiral of down, down, down.

Nothing is real.

Least of all time.

…

…quiet.

“—nus!”

“Janus, are you in there?”

“Snake-Face, if you don’t open up right this instant, I swear—“

“Kiddo, you never came down for dinner, we’re worried, are you alright?”

“I’m gonna break this fucking door down.”

“Remus, no—!”

A loud thud does not startle him awake. His eyes do not fly open. His body does not refuse to respond as chunks of wood fly all over his room. The walls do not look like they’re transparent as someone peers at him. They are not real.

“Janus? Oh my goodness, Janus!”

Patton. Patton is also not real. That is okay.

Patton does not rush across the floor to him and fall to his knees. His eyes aren’t welled up with tears that he bravely tries to fight back, smiling down at him. Patton’s hands do not cup his face tenderly. He doesn’t say anything.

“Kiddo?”

He cannot speak. Real things cannot speak.

“Kiddo, can you hear me?” Patton does not stroke his thumb gently over his cheek. “Can you breathe?”

Real things do not breathe.

“Fuck,” Remus does not swear, “he’s derealizing again.”

“He’s what?”

“Derealizing.” Remus does not run to crouch beside them. Remus does not gently tuck his hands under his legs to lift them into a more comfortable position. “Gets stuck in his own head, caught up in his own lies.”

Patton does not help Remus. He does not cradle his head and lift it up. The pillow suddenly under his head is not real, not soft, not pleasantly cool. His hand does not stay in his hair, stroking gently.

“He’s overcorrecting,” Remus does not murmur, “convincing himself that nothing is real.”

“Oh, kiddo,” Patton doesn’t sigh, doesn’t ruffle his hair gently, “you’re real, kiddo, stay with us.”

“He’s not gonna believe you, Daddio.”

“Then what do we do?”

“You’re not gonna like it,” Remus doesn’t say.

He doesn’t get up and leave. Patton doesn’t stay, still stroking his hand through his hair soothingly. Is it soothing? Does it feel soft? Caring?

Patton—Patton is caring, right?

“It’s gonna be okay, sweetheart,” Patton doesn’t—does?—murmur, “you’ll get through this, okay? You’ll get through this, I know you will.”

“Here.”

Oh, Remus is back. Is? Isn’t? Is Remus real?

“Just hold this, okay?”

“It’s really warm, are you sure—?”

“That’s what the towel’s for.”

Remus doesn’t crouch back down next to him. Patton isn’t gripping whatever Remus just gave him in his fist. He doesn’t look worried.

Wait, why is he worried?

“Ah!”

He cries out in surprise when something freezing presses to his stomach. Cold. Cold, cold—

“Shh, easy, Snakey,” Remus soothes—wait, doesn’t soothe? Is Remus real?—immediately replacing the cold with something warm, warm, warm, “it’s okay, it’s gone now, you did great, just stay here, okay?”

“Re-Remus?”

“Yeah, Jan-Jan, it’s me, I’m right here, can you grab onto me?”

He can’t, he’s not real, Remus isn’t real, but Remus is right there—

“There you go,” Remus encourages when his fingers hook through the ends of his sleeves, “you got me, okay? I’m not going anywhere.”

“Why—what happened? Why are you here?”

“You never came down to dinner, kiddo,” Patton says, stroking his solidwarmreal hand through his hair again, “we got worried. No one could call you and the room wasn’t letting us sink.”

Well of course it wasn’t, it isn’t real.

Wait.

“How did—“ he gasps— “how did you know I was here?”

Patton frowns, tilting his head. “Because we care about you, kiddo, you’re important to us.”

How can he be important when he isn’t real?

“Hey,” Remus says sharply, giving his wrist a little tug, “no drifting off again, Snakey, stay here.”

“H-here?”

“Yeah.” Remus presses the hot pad into his stomach and oh, it’s so warm, it has to be real. “Right here, Jan-Jan. You feel this?”

“Yes.”

“This is real. This is real. I’m really here, I’m really holding this to your real stomach. You’re real. The floor is real. Patton’s real.”

Patton’s real?

“I’m real, sweetheart,” Patton says softly, still rubbing his hand through his hair, “and so are you.”

He opens his mouth to try and breathe. If he’s real, he should be able to breathe…right?

“That’s it, kiddo, good.” The hand in his hair moves again. “Just lie there and breathe for a moment, okay?”

He looks over at Remus. Remus starts to rub little circles into his stomach with the warm towel.

“Stay here, stay real, Snakey,” he encourages, “just focus on this.”

The floor becomes solid under him again. Patton’s hand, his voice, he can hear them. Feel them. He blinks at Remus, real Remus, still working patiently.

He must make some noise because Remus pauses, looking up at him. Then he takes the towel and reaches up to slowly, slowly brush it over his cheek.

The tears that spring to his eyes at the tenderness of the gesture certainly feel real.

“Oh, kiddo,” Patton whispers, pulling him into a solidwarmreal chest, “it’s okay, shh, you’re safe, you’re real, everything’s okay.”

He gasps again, trapped in the warmth of Patton’s embrace. Remus scoots in behind them, wrapping his arms tightly through the limbs that still don’t want to work.

“Why can’t I move,” he chokes out, “why can’t I move?”

“You’re exhausted, sweetheart,” comes Patton’s soft reply, “you overworked yourself today.”

“But I can’t feel them!”

“Here,” he whispers, gently squeezing one of his arms, “can you feel that?”

“O-only a little.”

“How about here…and here…there.”

Patton’s hands are so warm and solid and real.

“P-Patton?”

“Yeah, kiddo, I’m right here.”

“Remus?”

“I’m here too, Snakey, we gotcha.”

“Am I—is this—“ he swallows unsteadily— “is this…real?”

“Yeah, kiddo,” Patton murmurs as Remus strokes firmly up and down his back, “this is real.”

Patton is real, solid and warm against him. Remus is real, solid and warm behind him.

Janus opens his eyes and stares at the yellow wall.

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#sanders sides #janus sanders #deceit sanders #patton sanders #remus sanders #sympathetic deceit #sympathetic remus #fic #dragonbabbles

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gubler-me-up · 5 years ago

Text

Perfectionism

Request: HELLOO, I’ve had an idea for literally months in my head but I wouldn’t be able to write it as good as you 🥺 Would you mind doing a Spencer reaction to his crush having bad body dysmorphia that they’ve been hiding from the team (they’re working for bau) but at a case or smn someone they’re interviewing comments negatively on their body and they break down once they think they’re alone? But Spence sees and reaches out and it’s really wholesome and soft? I’m a sucker for angsty fluff I’m sorry 😔

A/N: Thanks for the prompt anon, much appreciated! I hope this does justice to your well thought-out idea. I hope it satisfies all your angsty fluff needs! Side note, to everyone of my followers/readers I hope you know you’re beautiful and finding love/happiness within yourself takes time, but trust the process, loves ❤️ Enjoy!

Category: Angsty fluff

Content warning: Swearing, mention of violence, self degradation

Word count: 2.3k

---------------

You stood in front of the mirror inside the police department’s washroom. You finished applying another thick layer of foundation on your face. You knew applying this much makeup to your face wasn’t good. Your dermatologist even recommended against it and advised you to let your skin breathe for a while to prevent over clogging your pores. He didn’t understand the problem of doing that though.

Without the concealer masking the dark circles under your eyes, you’d probably look dead. Maybe even worse. Without the foundation, your acne and healing acne scars would definitely bring unwanted attention to your face. It was certain to happen.

You had to wear them all the time, especially at work. You thought of how JJ probably never had to go through this. Her face was free of any sort of marks or blemishes. She always looked alive with her bright blue eyes with no heavy bags insight. No wonder Spencer had a crush on her a few years back.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the vibrations of your phone on the bathroom counter. You looked down to see Spencer’s name pop up informing you it was time to interview the suspect. A sigh left your mouth as you started packing up your products into your travel beauty kit.

As you walked out of the door, you noticed Spencer at the end of the poorly lit hall leading back out to the main lobby. When he noticed you were walking down the hall towards him, he smiled and waved. Sometimes you thought he was the cutest genius in the world.

“Hey, didn’t know you were waiting for me,” you said.

He shrugged. “Thought it would be nice for us to walk to the interview room together.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

He nodded as you both started walking towards the interview room. You couldn’t help noticing he kept on looking at you. Especially your face. What if he saw your acne scars? Or even the acne itself? What if he was just noticing how strange your face looked?

You stopped walking. “Why do you keep staring at me?”

He stopped walking as well as he gave you a questionable look. “What?”

“Is there a reason you keep looking at my face?” You asked.

He shook his head. “No, no reason, I just-”

“You just what?” You said before he even finished his sentence.

Spencer was taken back by your tone. Your words made it seem as if he was attacking you. You could tell from his confused facial expression. Before he could get a chance to pull his words together, you started walking again.

“Forget it. Let’s just focus on this interview.”

Spencer watched as you walked by him. He trailed behind you, trying his best not to say anything else. You knew you shouldn’t have snapped at him the way you did, but you couldn’t bear the possibility of him pointing out a flaw. You just knew he could see everything you tried so hard to hide.

As you two reached the interview room door you felt Spencer gently grab your arm. You turned to him to see how concerned he looked. Before you said anything he made sure to get the first few words out.

“Y/N, I’m sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable back there. Whatever’s troubling you I’m here to help you get through it,” he assured you.

You smiled. “Thanks. I appreciate you, Spence. For now, let’s put what happened behind us for now and go interview this guy.”

Reid smiled as he gently squeezed your arm before letting you go. It felt nice having him reassure you, but he didn’t even know what he was reassuring you about. Maybe he didn’t notice your facial imperfections at all. Maybe he was genuinely admiring your face.

You opened up the interview room to see a dark-haired, middle-aged, white man sitting across the table. He was well put together with a buttoned-up blue shirt, black tie and his hair was slicked back. Physically he matched the profile perfectly. He looked as if he exuded arrogance as your profile detected the unsure would be like. He tried to keep a cool and emotionless demeanour, but by his furrowed eyebrows and wrinkling forehead, he was becoming impatient.

“Hello, I’m agent Y/N Y/L/N and this is Dr. Spencer Reid. Adam Boyer, correct?” You said as you and Spencer took your seats.

“Glad you can read documents, agent,” he scoffed.

“I wouldn’t get so smart-mouthed yet, Boyer. According to some sketchy transactions between you, John McNeil and Robert Morrison it seems as if you have a lot to hide for someone so vocal,” you said.

He squinted his eyes at you. “What does this even have to do with anything?”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but those two men are dead. You were the last person to contact both of them the day they died. A transaction of over half a million dollars goes missing and you get mad and-“

“I don’t know what you’re trying to imply, agent, but I didn’t murder my colleagues over money. My company makes more than that in a day, so spare me of your pathetic accusations.”

Before you could reply, Spencer jumped in to level out the tension between you and Boyer. He opened a file on the desk and pointed to a bank statement.

“It says here on your financial records your company is $1.5 million dollars in debt. We discovered Robert Morrison and John McNeil both gave you back their shares of the company to equate $500,000, which is legally a breach in the company’s contract for workers, including yourself, to share, distribute or give away company shares without a reasonable cause. According to the list of reasonable cause you failed to mention bankruptcy or were too arrogant at the time to force something like that happening to you,” Spencer said.

With everything he said, you could tell Boyer’s cool exterior was wearing off. He looked glossier in the face, started fidgeting with his tie and refused to look directly at Spencer. He decided to direct his attention to you instead.

“Well, isn’t that a huge mistake on my part, ain’t it?” He asked directly to you.

“Huge mistake or huge flaw in your plan of getting away with murdering your colleagues? I think it’s the second one, Boyer,” you said.

He leaned back in his chair without breaking any eye contact with you. He folded his hand in front of his chest. You had to admit he made your feel a bit uncomfortable.

“What else do you think?” He asked.

“I think you murdered your colleagues when they found out you had taken back their share of the company to pay back your debts. They would have ratted you out, got you fired from your own company or even worse, the whole company would have shut down and you’d have nothing left.”

“Nothing left,” Boyer said seemingly to himself.

“Yes, absolutely nothing. Your wife divorced you, took full custody of your two boys and now you spend your days throwing your money-approximately $1.5 million dollars-on trying to buy love from escorts,” you said.

It was as if something had woken up inside of him as he almost pounced across the table. Both you and Spencer got out of your seats with Spencer using his arm to block the front of you. It was as if it was a natural instinct for him to protect you before bracing himself.

“Sit down,” Spencer demanded.

“At least I have escorts willing to ride my dick. You couldn’t even pay a male stripper to look at that face of yours. Where’s the pretty agent who was in here before? If I’m going to be accused of a crime, I’d rather be accused by someone half decent looking. Get my fucking lawyer on the phone,” he proceeded to yell.

Though you shouldn’t have felt as bad as you did by the words he said, you did. The blunt force in his voice was vicious. The way he looked at you in disgust. His disgust was too real. He was bold enough to look at you the way everyone wanted to, but was too cautious to do it in front of your face.

“I’ll get your lawyer on the phone, you psycho,” you whispered before turning around to leave.

“Don’t forget to bring the real eye candy in as well, sweetheart,” he said.

You didn’t bother looking back at him or even Spencer. You felt your eyes get heavy with tears and knew it would be terrible to show weakness to such a vile suspect. You rushed out of the room before Spencer could stop you or even follow you close behind.

You rushed towards the washroom as your tears were at the brim of your eyes. As you reached the door, you paused. What if someone was in there? What if Emily or JJ saw you crying? You retracted your steps and decided to go to the family washroom instead.

You didn’t even wait until the door was fully closed before letting out your tears. You heavily wept to yourself as you replayed everything he had said to you. Spencer probably stood there agreeing with everything he said, word for word. Your face being hideous, JJ’s beauty surpassing the little you had, no one wanting you. You backed up against the wall to avoid the mirror, to avoid the disgusting reflection in the mirror.

The only reason you looked up was that you heard the washroom door open. You saw Spencer peak in. When he saw the tears running down your face, he didn’t hesitate to go over to you with concern written all over his face.

“Y/N, what’s wrong? I hope he didn’t get to you,” he said as he reached out his hands.

You assumed he was going to try to wipe the tears from your face, so you pushed away his hands. You couldn’t stand the thought of him touching your face if he thought it was hideous. You didn’t even want him looking at you directly. You looked down to avoid your face being in the presence of his.

He attempted to lift your head up by placing his hand on your chin. You flinched at his touch and moved your head out of his grasp. New tears started to spill from your eyes as you looked at him with despair.

“Can you stop, Spencer?” You wept.

He looked at you confused. “Stop what?”

“Looking at me. I know my face is ugly, okay? Everyone knows and it’s just degrading for you to pretend not to notice,” you snapped at him.

“Y/N, what are you talking about? There’s nothing wrong with your face.”

“Spencer, I know you see it. My acne and acne scars. It doesn’t help that my face is always shiny and my cheeks are chubby. You don’t have to pretend to be blind to it for the sake of my feelings.”

“You thought I was looking at you earlier because you think I think you’re ugly? Y/N that couldn’t be further from the truth.”

You rolled your eyes. “Then why were you looking at me? Be honest.”

“Because I think you’re gorgeous.”

“Ugh, Spencer, you don-”

He grabbed both your hands in his big ones, grasping them tightly. You looked down at your hands in his and then looked up into his eyes. He looked longingly at you. You could see the genuine look of love in his face.

“Y/N, I know what you’re going through. Body dysmorphia’s not an easy thing to fight off by yourself, but I want to assure you every day that I think you’re the most beautiful person I know; both inside and out.”

You let out a deep breath as you felt round three of tears coming to your eyes. Honestly, you couldn’t think of a moment you felt genuinely pretty. His words could move mountains.

“But if Adam Boyer could-”

“Please don’t let a psychopath make you feel unsure of yourself. He only belittled you because he lost control of the situation and decided to target you. His idea of a perfect girl is someone he can dominate, which makes him disgusting not you.”

He let go of your right hand as he wiped away a tear making its way down your face. You grasped his left hand hard as he touched your face. It still made you feel uncomfortable, but you were happy Spencer cared deeply for you.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have touched your face if you’re not comfortable with that yet. I know it takes time to breakdown this idea of what perfect is especially with so many beauty standards being pushed by society, but I’ll be here to help you realize you’re the most beautiful you. I wouldn’t want you to be any other way,” he said.

You smiled at his words as you wiped away the few stray tears running down your face. You had to admit you liked it better when he did it. You leaned your head back, took a deep breath, let it out and then looked at Spencer.

“Thank you for being you. I wouldn’t want you to be any other way as well,” you said.

He smiled. “I’ll always be here for you, Y/N. If you want me to be that is.”

“I do. I really do.”

“Maybe after we’re done with this case we can do something together to help you remember the beautiful person you are.”

“I’d love that.”

You both walked towards the washroom door. Spencer made sure not to let go of your hand until you two left the washroom. You felt as if he wanted you to grasp onto the positive energy he had for you. You felt uplifted in a way. This must be the benefit of the Spencer Reid effect.

—–

MASTERLIST

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greaterawarness · 4 years ago

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ARC Training Program CH. 1 "Cadets"

(Timeline is going to get a bit messy with this one. Fun fic where Alpha-17 decides to train some young cadets in his ARC Training Program.)

Alpha walks through the pristine hallways of Tipoca City. After facing battle, it was odd to return to a place so quiet. He stops to peer down at troops eating in the mess hall. He lets out a deep Hm.

“Alpha, you wanted to speak with me?” A voice pulls him from his thoughts. Shaak Ti stands with her hands folded in front of her.

“Yes, I was hoping to talk to you about the future training of the cadets.” He starts as they walk down the corridor.

“You think their current training is inadequate?” She asks. He shakes his head while placing his hands behind his back as he walks.

“No, but it worries me that with all troops learning to follow orders that they may be hesitant when the time comes to make the difficult decision themselves. We don’t just need mindless soldiers. We need leaders.” He explains. Shaak Ti lifts a hand to her chin.

“I understand your concern. Then what do you propose we do?”

Alpha stops so he can face her.

“I want to take the best cadets and train them myself. These cadets will go on to not just fight in the army but lead it.” Alpha says. Shaak Ti gives a soft smile.

“I see no harm in that,” She starts before eyeing him. “But these troops must be willing to follow their Jedi Generals. I understand you yourself have had issue with this in the past.”

Alpha gives a laugh deep in his throat.

“Don’t worry about that. They’ll be loyal.” He says. She raises her version of an eyebrow at him before they continue walking.

“Very well. I will compile a list of the highest ranking cadets.”

“Thank you.” He says making Shaak Ti glance at him.

“I believe that is the first time you’ve ever said thank you.” She grins.

“These are strange times.” He says giving her a small smile. When they reach the end of the corridor, they leave each other to prepare.

The Kaminoans were kind enough to give him his own training room for his cadets and their own barracks to set them apart from the rest. He spends the rest of his time going over his plans. Despite all his training he wasn’t sure if he was prepared to actually teach. When the doors to his room open, he lets out a small grunt when Fordo walks in.

“I didn’t think it would be true but here you are.” He says. He leans against the doorway with his helmet under his arm.

“Someone’s got to do it. Jango isn’t here anymore so it falls on us to make sure these cadets are trained properly.” Alpha says while shuffling some papers around. Fordo walks further into Alpha’s room and places his helmet on the table.

“So, you’re really going to train a bunch of cadets? I’m sure some of the Mandalorian bounty hunters wouldn’t have a problem doing it.” Fordo crosses his arms.

“You know they all cleared out after Jango died. Now it’s just regular bounty hunters who just want to get paid.” Alpha leans back in his chair. Fordo stares at the ground thinking.

“Then I wish you the best of luck.” He says finally. He takes his helmet before slipping it back on his head. Just before walking out of the room, he turns back over his shoulder and says “You’re gonna need it.”

Alpha stares at the doors a moment longer before returning to his training plans. By the time Shaak Ti has summoned him he’s already inspected all of the gear and training room a couple times over. He can’t keep feeling like he was forgetting something but chalked it up to just being his nerves. Alpha never got nervous when it came to battle. But this? This made him uneasy.

When finds Shaak Ti, she’s staring at a datapad deep in thought. She smiles when she sees him.

“Find me some cadets?” Alpha asks when he joins her. She motions for him to follow her.

“I have,” She says as they walk down a corridor looking down at different batches training. “The first cadet is CC-2224.”

They stand next to the window looking down at a cadet running through the simulation. Alpha watches the boy take out the training droids. He was impressed.

“Though, I would like to mention that he can be a bit…” Shaak Ti starts before the boy has his blaster shot out of his hands. Alpha stiffens when the boy continues to charge and lands a punch on the chest of the droid. The boy lets out a painful scream before cradling his wounded hand and ultimately being shot. “… reckless.”

“Let’s move on.” Alpha says still unable to take his eyes off the kid that thought punching the metal droid was a good idea. Still, he was impressed. They walk over to the next window.

“This is CT-7567.” Shaak Ti says. At first Alpha couldn’t tell which cadet he was supposed to be looking at until Shaak Ti points towards a pillar. A cadet climbs up the side before dropping down on top of a droid. While steering the droid into the other training droids he manages to hold onto his blaster taking out a sniper droid. Alpha lifts a hand to his chin as a smile creeps on his face. With the droid beneath him the only one left he leaps off it and fires a single shot. The droid falls to the ground. His batchmates cheer for their brother. The cadet wears a proud smile before turning and walking straight into a pillar. Alpha frowns.

“We can work on that.” Alpha says when Shaak Ti gives a worried expression. They move on to the other cadets listed. When they’ve inspected each cadet, Alpha goes over the list. He decides to only pick eight for now. No reason to start too big. He might not succeed in this after all.

“Have you decided which ones you will be taking?” Shaak Ti asks after a moment. They now sit in a room used for meetings.

“I have.” He says sliding her the datapad. She looks over the list and nods in agreeance.

“I will have these cadets report to your training room immediately.”

When she leaves, Alpha feels jittery. What he was about to do could make these boys into the most capable and feared soldiers in the army. He could possibly make them the most useless soldiers anyone has ever seen. He decides that he can’t think like that now. He makes his way to the training room. He paces on one of the platforms while waiting. When the doors open, he stands tall hiding any sign of insecurity. Shaak Ti leads the eight cadets into the room. They stand in formation at attention.

“CC-2224, CT-7567, CC-3636, CC-1138, CC-8826, CC-1010, CC-4477, and CC-1004,” He says already agreeing with the Skywalker kid. They need normal names. Not just numbers. “You eight have been the first selected to undergo the first ARC training program! Here you will not just be trained as soldiers but to lead soldiers!”

The boys are good. They show little to no sign of excitement or shock. Alpha places his hands behind his back.

“Now I’ve seen what you could do with your batchmates. Show me what you can do next to the other elite cadets!” He says. They are given training blasters before he and Shaak Ti clear the training course. They stand at the top looking down from the railings. He notices Fordo on the other side watching as intently as he is. He gives the signal for them to begin and holds his breath.

It first starts out well. They take formation and appear to be follow directions well. Until Alpha gives out the next set of orders. Each cadet is used to being the leader of the batch. Now in a group of eight equally competent cadets they started bumping heads. Literally. CC-1010 and CC-4477 run right into each other while trying to advance. They fall to the training room floor before breaking out in a fight. CC-2224 tries advance past the fighting cadets only to dive for cover when CT-7567 tries to commandeer a droid similar to the way he did in his last training course. This time he’s unable to take control of the droid.

“Watch it!” CC-2224 yells before the droid lands a shot stunning him. CT-7567 steers the droid into the wall knocking himself unconscious. Alpha winces when the kids hits the ground. CC-3636 and CC-1004 are the only two who seem to be capable of working alongside each other. They work along side each other but seem to not want to outdo the other. Alpha rolls his eyes when they pause not wanting to shove past the other resulting in getting stunned by a droid they failed to see. Alpha turns his attention to the last two cadets who have managed to get closer to the citadel then any of the others. Unlike CC-3636 and CC-1004, these two act like it’s a competition. They shove each other in attempting to be first. Alpha shakes his head when they break out into an all out fight. Alpha rubs his face tiredly. He can hear Fordo’s laughing from across the training course.

“It appears you have your work cut out for you.” Shaak Ti says giving him a light pat on his shoulder. She leaves him to stare down at four stunned cadets and four in all out fist fights. He lets out a painful groan before muttering to himself:

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

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ashbrea381writings · 4 years ago

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Flying Blind: Chapter 1, Bats in Paris

Four-year-old Richard Grayson glared at the girl in front of him. Marinette Dupain-Cheng was just six weeks older than him, and right now, she was taller than him too. “You’re gonna lose.” He taunted in heavily accented French, “I got super high scores and you can’t beat them!” “Don’t even think about it! I’m gonna win!” Marinette’s fists were clenched and her face red. “Just you watch!” The Dupain-Chengs and the Graysons shared an amused look over the heads of the children. “How are you doing?” Tom asked, chuckling about the children’s antics. “We’re good, we’ll be starting another tour this summer, then probably settle down for a couple years before moving on.” The two children started shouting even louder, causing them to be dragged apart by their exasperated parents. This happened every competition, for years.

***

Five years later, Richard stopped showing up to competitions. Marinette was annoyed at first, grumbling about him being a chicken who didn’t want to face her. At another competition, a month later, she heard one of the judges talking about the Graysons, making a sad comment about the loss of so many talented people, the wasted potential, an entire family of fliers just gone. Marinette stiffened in shock, her eyes wide as she processed what they had just said. Bolting to the locker room, Marinette yanked her hair out of it’s bun and changed back into her street clothes, hiding in the bathroom stall and crying. When her parents find her some minutes later, they make sure she isn’t hurt and take her home. “He’s dead… Dick’s dead.” She told them tearfully in the car on the way home. “All of them are.” Marinette stopped going to competitions after that.

***

Ladybug could feel the tension in her shoulders as she confronted the man before her, Chat a step behind and to her left. “If your Justice League doesn’t want to help, you could at least stay out of our city.” Her arms were crossed as she glared at Batman. “Why do you think the League wouldn’t help?” Robin asked, his accent strong but his pronunciation carefully precise. “We only heard of the situation recently.” “Oh? I called the League two years ago when our mentor gave up his memories to prevent Hawkmoth from getting something important.” Ladybug spat, letting her disgust show without letting it be bad enough that Hawkmoth could sense it. “I got told to stop playing games and they hung up on me.” “Who did you speak with?” Batman asked, pulling out a small tablet to take notes. “I don’t know, they didn’t say. Male, light voice in the baritone range, sounded way too cheerful until he decided I was lying, then he was just an ass.” She shrugged and gestured to the city around her. “‘Paris is fine, we would have noticed if something bad happened.’” She quoted in a near-perfect impression of Hal Jordan that made Batman frown. “Did you mean to do an impression?” Robin asked, somewhere between surprised and trying not to laugh when the girl his age was able to deepen her voice that much. “It’s accurate, I was there to hear him.” Chat chuckled, crossing his arms and shifting to lean on just one leg. “The guy continued to rant about children making prank calls and how he didn’t even know how we had the number.” “The fact that we had it at all should have told him the truth.” Ladybug scoffed. “Look, I’ve been doing this for four years. If you really wanna help, you’ll need to make sure you don’t fall victim to Hawkmoth yourself.” “And how does one do that?” “Mostly by repressing your negative emotions.” Chat shrugged, looking out over the city. “To be honest, it’s getting harder for Parisians to keep up their hopes. Our ages don’t help either, there are plenty who keep demanding we give up our Miraculi to older, more experienced people, but not just anyone can wield them.” “The personalities of the people wielding them must mesh well with the Miraculous, or it corrupts you and either causes you to become someone you wouldn’t recognize, or makes you very sick.” “That explains why you can’t pass them on, but why were you two chosen?” Robin tilted his head, moving forward a bit more. “We were the best candidates at the time. Our former mentor read our auras to make sure who meshed with which Miraculous and gave us a test to make sure we were the type of people to help others even when it’s not in our best interests.” Ladybug sighed and turned to look as a loud ‘bang!’ sounded from the direction of the Eiffel Tower. “Always the tower, I still don’t get it.” Chat sighed, prepping to take off. “Don’t ask me, Kitty.” Ladybug grabbed her yo-yo. “Stay back out of the fight unless you see a civilian in danger. You don’t know what you’re up against.” Batman looked like he wanted to argue, but the teen heroes took off in the direction of the Akuma that was currently pulling pieces off of the Tower and throwing them at the ground nearby. Batman and Robin found a spot just outside the action to observe. Other members of the Miraculous Team were already on the scene, moving civilians and calling out information to each other. Viperion split off from the action to intercept Ladybug and seemed to have a lot of information. Once they conferred for a few moments, a suddenly weary-looking Viperion gave signals to several of the team members. The Akuma was released, captured, and purified. With the Cure cast, the Tower was repaired and the Miraculous Team collectively shared quiet celebrations before separating except for Chat Noir, who’s Cataclysm hadn’t been used. “LB and the others are going to recharge, check in with their families after the attack, and meet us. I’m to lead you to somewhere private where we can talk more thoroughly.” Chat was brisk, seeming tired. “Your Snake friend… He spent a good portion of the fight observing and only really called out instructions for the most part. Why is that?” Robin asked as they started running across rooftops. “That’s his part. Ladybug is Creation, I’m Destruction, he’s Intuition. He watches the fight and uses his ability to make sure we do not fail when we cannot avoid it otherwise.” Chat answered vaguely, enjoying the verbal cat-and-mouse. “Are you going to tell us what his power is?” Batman asked, his exasperation audible in his voice. “The more information we have, the better we can plan and the more help we can give.” “I’m gonna let Viperion explain, he’s a chill guy, he won’t mind telling you. Besides, they’re all gonna be there and I think LB plans to give you two a rundown of everyone anyway.” Chat explained, dropping down into a small garden hidden between buildings. There was a small storage shed that Chat opened, removing a handful of chairs and a folding table. “I believe LB plans on bringing refreshments, will you help me set this up?”

***

An hour later, the rest of the team had assembled, with more than just Ladybug bringing snacks and drinks. There was something for everyone, although Batman chose not to eat. “So, a rundown?” “My powers stem from Creation, I create an object that helps us in the fight, purify the Akuma, and my Cure repairs any damage done by the miraculous during that specific Akuma fight. If too much time passes after the Akuma was purified, I can’t put it right.” Ladybug began, pointing to Chat next. “His power is from Destruction, he can destroy any one item he touches or a portion of a surface such as the ground or a wall. He can control how far the destruction spreads to a degree, it’s something we’re working on. Viperion has the power of Second Chance, he sets a timer and within that span of time he can reset to the beginning as many times as he wants theoretically. The problem is that he’s the only one who remembers what happened in the timeline he reset, so he has to be able to remember what to do so we can succeed.” “Is that why you suddenly looked more tired during the fight?” Robin asked, brows furrowing. “Yes. Seeing your friends get hurt over and over will do that.” The shaggy-haired hero sighed, shaking his head. “As much as I dislike seeing it, I know that I can prevent it as long as I still have my power active and as long as I’m able to give them the right information when we reset. I’ve gotten a lot better than when we started, but it helped when Chat started to realize I knew what I was doing.” His eyes sparkled with a bit of humor and Chat shook his head with a goan. “You’re never going to let me forget that, are you?” Chat asked, stretching. “Nope, never.” “Anyway.” Ladybug glared at the two boys, but it lacked conviction. “You’ll have to give me the rundown later of how many times we reset. Moving on, Rena Rouge, power of Illusion. Carapace, Protection, his shields are nearly impenetrable.” Ladybug pointed out each hero in turn. “Honey Bee, she can paralyze a person with her stinger, most of these have a duration and are usable just once for now. Pegasus can make portals to anywhere, again, once and there’s a time limit after using it. King Monkey isn’t here right now, but his power disrupts those of whomever is touched with an object he summons. We have one more teammate who doesn’t get involved often. Their name is Bunnyx, and they don’t show up much unless we really need them. They travel through time.” “So you have a time-traveler to come pull you out? Then why don’t they tell you who Hawkmoth is?” Batman demanded. “Because one: that’s cheating, and two: that’s not how they’re supposed to figure it out.” Came another voice from above before a blue, white, and pink blur dropped down behind Ladybug.

***

Note: The competition is for Gymnastics if anyone’s confused.

#dickenette #maribat #mgi trope tussle #dc #miraculous au #soulmate

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physicalturian · 4 years ago

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[18+] Words of pleasure - Law x F!Reader - Part 10 (Last)

[No spoilers] [Modern AU - College AU] [She/her pronouns used for the reader, no physical description; Everyone +18] Words : 8634 Archive of our own

Warning : Power play / Dom/sub Dynamics / Control / Oral / Discipline / Voyeurism / Brat / Shibari / Impact play / Tears (from dick uh) / Protected sex / Aftercare / Edging / Pet names The voyeurism part is only for part of it. For those who do not know what 'voyeurism' is, it means someone is watching - It's done with everyone's consent.; The tears are purely deep dick in throat; Don’t forget there are oral protections for when you give head to someone, or receive it tbh, to avoid STD’s.

If you feel like I should add more warnings, send me a dm or and ask

– Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9

There stood Rosinante. And clearly, Law was not expecting him to come by. I hurriedly covered myself, but it was too late, and the blond man seemed to have enjoyed the sight as he looked at my hands gripping the lapel tight before looking at me with a grin. “I see you’ve got company Traffy,”

“I’m guessing the date went well-“ “I asked you a question Cora, what do you want?” I felt the tension between the two men, clearly Law was annoyed by the interruption which was not the most welcomed right now. I was about to sneak out of sight when I saw the delivery girl in the back, she looked at the device in her hand, confused. I nudged Law’s side to get his attention and he told Rosinante to get out of the way so he could get the takeout.

When he did, I walked past him and exchanged the money Law had handed me, for the bag of food in her hand. I saw her glimpse at my chest and quickly bid her goodbye before shuffling back inside and putting everything back on the table. When I joined the black-haired man’s side, he told me to go on and start eating without him, he had to talk with the blond. I half-heartedly accepted and went back to the dining room where I unpacked everything. While I did so, I paid attention to what was being said in the corridor.

“-It wouldn’t be the first time, I don’t see why you don’t want to Law,” I heard the blond almost whine.

“Did you really think that coming all the way here would make me accept the offer? This is different than the other times,” Law replied, his tone stern and still laced with annoyance. I made sure to not seem like I was listening as I started eating.

“I’m just saying, if that’s what she’s into, I’m the man for the job-“ “I didn’t ask, and we’re taking things slow,” Law’s answer made Rosinante laugh, it quickly turned into a gasp as I heard a thud before their conversation resumed.

“That’s not what the rope around her breasts says,” I turned around to look at them in shock, and quickly turned back to face my food when both of them looked my way. Fuck, be discrete, you haven’t heard anything.

Law sighed and I heard the door lock, it was followed by shoes hitting the parquet. “I’m not taking a decision without her, first we eat, then we talk,”

“It’s alright I’ve already eaten,” I heard Rosinante’s deep voice getting closer, and Law’s reply even more, “I didn’t ask, there is none for you, sit down and don’t talk,”

From the interactions between the two, I felt like there was bad blood between the two of them which clashed with the man now sitting right next to Law in front of me. Law was sitting at the end of the table, Rosinante on his right and me on his left. I wrapped the bathrobe tighter around me, throwing a glance at Law and fidgeted on my seat. Was it his way of playing with my appreciation of ‘giving a show’ as he put it? “Don’t mind him, eat,”

“It’s kind of hard not to, he’s staring right at me and he’s pretty big,” Facing the blond, I quirked a brow, going back to be in control. “Why are you here? Do you need something? We were a bit busy until you arrived, and while I respect that you’re his colleague, I think he’s not on shift right now.” I stated with as much professionalism as I could. I was not going to speak in Law’s stead, but I was frustrated by the interruption, if it had just been the delivery girl, we could have gone back to our little game once the door was closed. But here, I felt myself run cold… And burning at the same time, I was very aware of the restrictions around my form, after all, how could I not?

I felt Law’s hand on my thigh after my question and had to muster all my strength not to move in startlement. I hope the blond hadn’t seen my reaction, after all I knew he had caught a glimpse of the rope work under my robe, but he did not show any sign of awkwardness. “It’s not work related, don’t you worry, actually it’s more of a leisurely visit,” The blond rolled up his sleeves and leaned back on his chair, almost tumbling back before grabbing the edge of the table and catching himself. Ignoring his almost-accident, I kept eating and did not ask any more question. I exchanged a few glances with Law when his hand traveled higher on my thigh.

I didn’t know what games he was playing, and I didn’t know why he was being so daring when his colleague was there… but I liked it. To make him understand I was on board, I spread my legs wider and as I made it so it looked like I was seating back properly, I moved his hand even higher.

I heard a huff coming from him as he continued eating. While his eyes were on his plate, his nails dug themselves inside my skin ever so lightly before going up and down my thigh. My attention being solely on his touch under the table, I almost forgot the man right in front of us who was silent up until now, “You know, Law, I understand you telling me to wait until you’re done eating and all that, but you can’t say that and then start the fun right under my nose,”

Confused, and thinking he knew, I grabbed Law’s hand from going any higher, but he deftly moved my hand from his and held my thigh tightly. He was rubbing my inner thigh, letting his hand graze my crotch many times without even reacting. I had to put everything down when I was getting too excited to finish my plate, thinking I’d finish the rest after the eventful night I was promised those past few nights by HandSurgeon. “Then ask her, see how it goes,” Law almost spat, giving Rosinante a glare that I wouldn’t have wanted to be the receiving end of.

‘Cora’ however was unbothered, his grin only widening as he leaned further on the table. I felt a foot bump against mine under the able but did not say anything. “See, with Law here, we sometimes have interesting nights-“ “It was two times, Cora,”

“Actually, it was three, don’t you remember the one a few months ago who really wanted-“ Law interrupted him by standing up and taking our two plates from the table, leaving me exposed as I quickly covered my thigh with the robe.

Looking at me with a smug smile, the blond whispered, “It’s actually three times like this, but we sometimes do other things- not like we fuck, but-“ Surprised by his words, I did not let it show on my face and made a gesture with my hand to tell him to go on, “Just, stop beating around the bush, I really don’t care what he, or you, used to do,” I shrugged, still curious about what they used to do. I was not going to be nosy and ask but part of me hoped he wouldn’t keep doing whatever they used to do when we’ll really be together… Unless we’ve talked about it.

“Right, I feel like you kinda like showing off, am I wrong?” I couldn’t blame him for going straight to the point as I asked, but his question caught me off guard and I threw a glance at Law who was coming back from the kitchen with a neutral expression on his face.

Looking at Law, embarrassed, I said, “Did you tell him about-“ “I didn’t tell him anything, I’d live better if he did not meddle with my shit, believe me,” Law replied before I could finish my sentence. I looked back at the blond and shrugged, “I don’t really know why it’s relevant,” I started, my face heating up. What was one supposed to do in this situation? I was not about to tell that stranger what turned me on, even though he seemed to have pinpointed the right thing. Denying sounded like a nice option though.

“You’re not making it easier on me,” The blond glanced at Law, asking him to help out without words. He had seemed cocky enough to preach what he did many times with Law but was starting to get cold feet. Law quirked a brow and asked me to get up, which I did with him, my eyes still riveted on Rosinante. I was then brought to the bedroom, feeling Rosinante’s intense gaze following us. Once we were inside the room, Law left the door open and approached me.

“The offer is simple, do you want to hear it?” He pulled me closer, sliding his hands inside the bathrobe to rest them on my hips, his thumbs brushing over the skin oh so delicately. “Go ahead, I’m really curious of what you might offer that won’t be ruined by your great colleague-“ “The attitude stays outside the bedroom, let’s start again. Do you want to hear the offer?” He breathed right next to my ear more sternly, his grip on my hips was tighter.

I held his forearm and held back a huff, mumbled, “Yes sir” I don’t believe I had said it in front of him, ever, since we learnt about one another. And it felt ten times worse than saying it to a stranger online, this time I could see the smirk on his face when he looked at me with a certain pride, my body was burning up from simply folding, submitting, over nothing. And I was enjoying it.

“He likes to watch, you like to be looked at, you like being the center of attention,” he explained slowly. His hands were now gripping the lapel of the bathrobe, I held his hands to stop them from removing the item just yet. “I don’t know… it seemed like you didn’t want to do any of this, earlier. You seemed angry at him, maybe we shouldn’t have him here,” I said softly, earning an earnest smile from the man in front of me as he cradled my face in his hands.

“Because he is wasting my time while I could be having you on your knees, your mouth eager to do your best to please me…” My eyes widened, his action was tender, but his words were salacious, and yet it mixed so well together. “Or maybe tonight could be all about you, I believe I promised I’d tie you up to the bedpost, or maybe we could work on more discipline, I remember you enjoyed it greatly,” He paused and gauged my reactions. I was breathing more heavily than moments ago, recalling his promises.

The more he talked, the more I felt this need to prove I could take whatever he gave me. I wanted him to praise me like he did so many times before, I wanted him to be able to flaunt me, and what better way to do so than to give him a show, to him and his friend. “He doesn’t join, he just watches, right?” I asked in a low tone, my eyes darting at the blond who was watching us from the dining table. He had his elbow resting on the table, his head leaning on his fist while smiling lazily. “That’s the plan, it’s purely sexual,” Law forced me to look at him, his fingers on my chin, “Just because he’s there doesn’t mean I won’t be taking care of you, it’s sexual for him, but it’s something different for us, understood?”

“I just ignore him, then?”

“No, no, you better be fully aware of him, know you’re being watched…” He slowly helped me shrug off the bathrobe, placing himself in front of me to block the sight to Rosinante. “And I’d expect my girl to give us a show I know she’s capable of, so do you agree?” This was exciting, I never expected to be part of something like this. And with or without the blond man in the other room, I would have still felt over the moon knowing what Law was about to do to me. “Yes, do we still use the colours? In case I want to stop, for any specific reason- not that I think I will use it, I trust you-“

“Colours, yes. But remember that even if you trust me, you can stop everything. The moment it’s too much, not that I aim for it to be, you tell me. Are we clear?” There was real worry in his eyes, and I couldn’t help but roll my eyes playfully but nodded. Wanting to get started, I looked at him with a widening smile and let my hand wander to the knot of his sweatpants.

“I do remember our conversations you know, no need to repeat yourself,” I started, “And you haven’t fucked my brains out enough for me to forget it, just yet. Maybe it was an empty promise,” I was stopped dead in my tracks by his hand gripping mine.

“Then you remember I said to be patient, and to leave the attitude out of the bedroom,” He said in faux-politeness as he pulled me closer, his hand let go of mine to pull at the leash-like rope around my neck. I huffed a chuckle and looked at him, satisfied.

“The door’s open, it came back rushing in,” I breathed out, talking about the attitude I supposedly left outside the room.

Law watched me a moment before humming, a dark smile on his lips, “You want to play it like that, let’s,” he stepped away from me and I felt a shiver run down my spine, I wanted to get things heated because it had started quieting down, but now I had a price to pay. I had barely done anything, but Law jumped on the occasion to take the attitude down a notch. He grinned mischievously and told me to follow him as he sat at the edge of the bed and told me to kneel in front of him.

“Are you serious-“ “Color?”

I huffed, “Green.”

“Then I’m deadly serious, on your knees.” His tone was stern, but his face showed something else. His half-lidded eyes watched me make way towards him and stop right in front of him. I threw a quick glance at the blond through the doorway and saw him with the seat fully facing the room and his hands on his lap for now. He gestured for me to go on. My eyes widened at that, does he expect me to listen to him? I looked back at Law and instead of kneeling in front of him, I placed my hands on his shoulders and moved one of my leg over his to straddle him.

He gripped the back of my legs tight to get me off of him, “Are you acting out on purpose, to give Cora a show? Is this what’s going on?” He asked, while standing up, power dripping off his voice. I wanted to tell him no, but I think I did. It felt weird to submit in front of someone other than Law, and I wanted to put it off as long as I could. I looked to the side once more, this time Law gripped my chin forcefully to make me look at him, “Is my girl getting shy?” He asked as he tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, his lips grazing my lobe. “I’ll say it only once: when I ask you a question, you answer, go,” He slid his hand to the back of my neck and made me look at him.

“I’m not shy, I’m just not used to this- and you surprised me with asking me to get on my knees,” I whispered back, noticing the grin that spread on his face.

“Don’t play the innocent act, I recall you were very eager to suck your toy off when it was just you and me, correct?” He breathed against my neck as his fingers slipped over the rope to grab my ass and bring my leg over his, still standing up. His other hand grazed over my ass, then I felt his fingers brush between my legs and gasped. I gripped his hand before trying to have his fingers touch my clit, but it had the opposite effect.

Grunting, he slapped my hand off his and held me in place, “Look at you, grinding against my fingers already. Don’t tell me you’re that desperate yet?”

“I’m not, you’re talking more than you’re doing, right now,” I regretted it instantly when a scowl formed on his forehead, quickly turning into an expression that said he accepted the challenge.

“That needy look of yours says something else. Here, I’ll help you out, but first,” He stepped away from me and sat on the bed, his legs open wide, “First we’ll put you back in your place. I have the perfect gag for that pretty mouth of yours,”

I was about to kneel when I noticed he was still fully dressed, when I reached for his shirt, he gripped my wrists tight. “That’s one too many, if you’re in a bratty mood then all I’ll have to do is discipline you, don’t you agree?” I agree, whispering a ‘yes sir’ which made him laugh as he told me to get on my knees, hands behind my back. He then stood up and went to the drawer behind me. I did as he told me, knowing I had crossed the limit but couldn’t help but feel excited.

“We’re going to test that patience of yours, look at me,” When I did, a smirk pulled the corner of his lips. I followed his form until he was sitting in front of me, I could see the bulge in his pants that at this point demanded to be freed, when I glanced at it, Law’s smirk only widened. “Let me tell you how good you look on your knees like that,” He praised as he leaned back only slightly on one of his hand as the other held what I believe was a riding crop. The latter placed itself under my chin to raise it up, “Here’s what’s going to happen: you use that mouth for something good, no touching, if I see you trying to move your hands….” He trailed off and looked at the riding crop.

“Then I strike you.”

He paused, gauging my reaction. And from the way my breath hitched in my throat, he had guessed I would enjoy it. “If you want to stop, you make a peace sign with your hand behind your back, understood?” I nodded, and he told me to do one right now to make sure I understood. Once I did, he smiled genuinely and pulled out his cock from his sweatpants. It was now fully erected and while I had seen it through different pictures, I wanted it more now. He stroked his cock lazily a few times, then beckoned me to come closer, “Open your mouth,” he slid it in slowly, praising me as he did so, “There we go, good girl,”

Instinctively, I was about to move my hands to grab the base of his cock but was struck before I could do so. I moaned at the stinging pain, breathing through my nose before starting to bob my head the best I could without the balance of my hand. I started licking him slowly, making sure to let my tongue press the tip of his cock more than the rest, suckling on the tip from time to time. I relished in the groans it elated from him. His free hand slid to the base of my neck, maybe he was unsure of how I’d react if he did more.

Dragging my lips back and forth on his length, making sure to use my tongue around it, I twirled my tongue around his tip, looking him dead in the eyes. “Grab my hair, are you the one feeling shy now, doc?” I licked my lips when he grabbed a fistful of hair and pulled my head back to have me look at him from a different angle. I gasped at the pain, my mouth open yet smiling, so was he. He was smiling smugly as he looked down at me, enjoying the sight a lot more than he was showing it. I moved a bit to use my heel to get some friction and was struck down to stop.

Chuckling breathlessly, I quirked a brow, it only unnerved him more, “You’re being a lot more disobedient when we have company, I can’t have him think you’re untamed now, can I?” He breathed against my lips, I closed my eyes, expecting a kiss from him but was met with a leathery texture. Opening my eyes, I realized Law was brushing the riding crop over my lips, I opened my mouth once more, he did not wait to brush it over my tongue. Giving it a little tap, startling me before bringing his hand that was holding it, over my shoulder.

“So desperate for it, so eager… But so, fucking, insubordinate- if you want it so bad you better start taking it,” He breathed, “And it’s: yes sir, not doc,” Without further warning, he shoved my head over his cock, and I moaned around it when I felt it hit the back of my throat. It made him laugh breathlessly, groaning at the same time as he kept guiding my head onto his cock. When I hollowed my cheeks around it, a sigh escaped his lips and he paused for a moment, leaning in. Before he could speak, I uttered, “Did I say you could stop?”

His brows raised and all playfulness was gone from his eyes, mine widened and I felt a shiver run down my spine. Fuck, I shouldn’t have done that, I thought as I straightened my back, about to move my hands to hold his thighs, I was struck down before I could do anything. The moan that escaped my lips was more embarrassing than anything, I could feel a rush of heat coursing through my body. He let go of my hair and instead gripped my jaw tightly, “I can’t praise you when you’re being anything but good,” He said sternly,

“From what I’m seeing, you want it rough, and I’m ready to give it...” He trailed off, his eyes traveling over my form while his finger brushed over my drooling lips, “Unless you make it up to me, and stop fighting me,” I averted my eyes, thinking, but quickly looked back at Law when he tutted me, saying “Eyes over here,”

“Keep that little game up and I promise, I’ll have you tied up in the middle of the bed with a toy inside you and no fucking relief,” He said loud enough for Rosinante to hear it, I tried to glance at him but had Law’s leg in the way and huffed, “Or you give up the reins, and let me lead the dance,” He continued, his finger pulling my lip down before opening my mouth, his thumb on my teeth. I licked it without answering, hands still behind my back.

“So, what do you say, are you going to be good now?” I nodded. He struck me down, I gasped in pleasure feeling the new spot on my back sting more than the other times, “What did I say? Words.”

With his finger still in my mouth, I articulated the best I could, “I’ll be good, sir. I’m sorry-“ “You will be, let’s have you apologize properly hm? Open wide,” Once again, I took him in, I did not waste time to try and take him deeper than I had before, making him moan out of breath as his hand settled under my chin on my throat. He wasn’t gripping it tightly; If anything, I believe he was feeling the bulge of his cock in my throat and getting off on knowing he did that.

I saw his composure slip as he leaned back and started bucking his hips in my mouth, “That’s it, take it- all- like a good- little- pet-“ Each words were emphasized by a thrust, I tried to meet them all and could feel tears streaming down my face at the effort it took fort me not to gag. Sounds of our heavy breathings and moans, mixed with groans of pleasure, echoed on the walls until he pulled out. He had stopped himself before reaching climax and was still very hard, I licked his cock clean before wiping my mouth and chin on his pants.

With a lazy smile, he leaned in and grabbed the rope to pull me closer, his lips ghosting over mine, “Are you going to behave, now?”

Raised on my knees, I tried to meet his lips, but he struck me without thinking twice about it, “A question, an answer, is it so hard?” I shook my head, gulping and replied in a sore voice, “I’ll behave, sir.” He then whispered, “Good girl,” before bringing me into a kiss, tender at first but it quickly turned more hungry, more needy. I wanted to bring him closer, taking his face in my hands to feel him but focused on keeping my hands behind my back.

He must have sensed my struggle since he broke the kiss to look at me intently, “While you do look good on your knees…” He let go of the rope and stood up, making sure to take the riding crop with him. I tensed when I felt it touch my back, knowing how raw my skin was, and how it still felt like it was burning. Yet, I wanted to lean in, and I was ready to beg for more. But instead, I looked straight ahead, and waited. “When I say good, I mean, exquisite…” I moved my hands to my lap, thinking it’d be better for him.

I was wrong. “I didn’t say you could do that,” Another hit, this time at the juncture of my shoulder blade and my neck, another breathless moan, another quick move as I brought my hands back in my back. I was startled once more when I felt his presence over me, his lips brushing over my ear, “I knew you’d make the most sinful sounds,” His teeth grazed the shell of my ear, biting it just enough to feel them.

“But I think seeing the tears rolling down your face,” he started, gripping my chin tightly to make me look up at him, my jaw clenched, “… and your pretty mouth fucked out, unable to talk back, that’s how I want it,” He continued, his eyes riveted on the drying tears on my cheeks as his thumb brushed over them. He then leaned over and placed a kiss on my forehead, “You did good. Now, let’s get my girl in a more comfortable position, what do you say?” I didn’t move but whispered back in agreement. It made him laugh as he let go of my face and told me that I could move.

I had to hold onto his arm when I stood up and wobbled. Having stayed on my knees too long made my articulations hurt but it felt good to finally be standing, it did not last long when Law had me lay down on my back after making sure I was alright. “I’m alright, in fact I could have taken it a bit longer, if you want to know,” I told him teasingly, talking about his thrusts in my throat. He stopped mid-way, a knee on the bed, still wearing his pants. “Your sore voice says otherwise,” he replied in a tone just as light, he gave me a once over before leaning to the side and getting an unopened bottle of water from the side of the bed.

“If you’re still that eager, we better take care of you before any more fun, mh?” Opening it, he told me to drink some more before continuing, I reached out for the bottle and saw that my hands were slightly shaking. I thought it wasn’t noticeable until Law scooted closer and was ready to help me drink. I simply took the bottle from his hand, brought a pillow to cover my front and took large gulps, maybe letting some spill down my chin and over my throat.

Law watched me carefully, an interested smile on his face, “It’s funny how you’re trying to act decent by covering yourself, and yet, intentionally bring my attention to you,” He took the bottle from my hand and put it on the nightstand before pushing me down and throwing the pillow away. His lips latched onto my throat as he licked the trickling drop away, starting from the bottom to finally reach my chin where he kissed my lips softly. “Let’s ruin that made-up sense of decency and make it as debauched as we can,”

Kissing him back, I chuckled at how promising it sounded and suggested enthusiastically, “Then let’s start by taking those pants off,” When I slithered my hands to the string of his pants, he quickly pinned them over my head making me yelp in surprise, and excitement once more. I wrapped my hands the best I could around his, or at least touched the back of his hand with the tip of my fingers, “Let’s make something clear, because you seem to forget I’m the one who’s leading this dance,” He started, his free hand hovering right above my breast as he very delicately ghosted his finger over my nipple, making me gasp when I felt the wetness from his skin.

I looked at him more carefully and saw him dip his finger inside the water bottle to just have me even more sensitive as he brushed it against my skin. All the while playing with my nipples, he spoke, “That mouth of yours is allowed to do four things. One, answer when I ask a question, two, beg, three, moan, four, scream my fucking name. Is that understood?” Although he asked it in a stern tone, making sure I was going to obey and not act out, I couldn’t help the smile on my face as I nodded, “Yes, sir,” I was thoroughly enjoying the sight of him with his lips, mere breaths away from my nipple.

Looking at him expectantly, I bit the inside of my lips as he approached closer and closer, his breath cooling the wetness on my skin. I let out a satisfied sigh when I felt his warm tongue balancing the coldness of my hardened nipple. Thinking he was solely focused on my breasts; I was surprised when I felt his hand slowly travel down my stomach and to my thighs. He paused there and drummed his fingers there a moment before starting to draw little patterns with the tip of his fingers. I wasn’t getting anything. His tongue was working on my breasts, but that was it. I wanted more, I needed more.

So, I threw a glance at the door, but I couldn’t see anything from this angle. Casting my pride aside, I mumbled Law’s name, followed by, “Please…” He stopped everything, and quirked a brow, a smug smile on his lips, “I didn’t quite catch that, pet. A bit louder, go ahead,” His tongue resumed its work on my nipples, this time his hands joining. I was trying to arch my back to feel him more, my breathing getting only heavier, it made it impossible to not feel the ropes around my form. “I’m not hearing anything, maybe I should stop-“ “Please, sir… Please, more, everything,”

“Good girl,” He breathed against my lips before pressing his against mine very slowly, his tongue prying my mouth open as he deepened the kiss. It heated up quickly, I threaded my hands through his hair to pull him closer only to have him laugh breathlessly as he broke the kiss. “Show me how bad you want it,” He sat back on the bed, still between my legs and wrapped my legs around his hips, he started kissing my inner thigh softly as he spoke, “I’ll be right there, and you will be touching yourself for me,”

Sitting up, I quickly moved my hands behind my back to show him I wasn’t doing anything with them, and saw the grin displayed on his lips. I continued, “Law- really? No, please, I don’t want to wait any longer, please?” Pulling me closer by my thighs, I gasped and almost lost balance but gripped his forearms tightly. “You’ll wait, because I told you to. You want to be good, don’t you?” A shiver ran down my spine, I looked off to the side but didn’t reply. He continued, “You think I forgot, all that we talked about those past few nights?” He whispered against my ear.

“How desperate you were for me to guide you, obeying each of my command…” He left a kiss behind my ear, trailing to the side of my neck, the hair on my body rose, I was thrilled. I felt his hand travel up my body, to one of my arms, down to my hand were the held me a moment, “And how little time it took for you to show off,” He brought my hand between our body, I reached for his pants but he tutted me, “to spread those legs,” He spread his, spreading mine in the process, “and to touch yourself to the sound of my voice?” I wasn’t looking at him, instead my eyes were focused on his body, on how his hand felt around mine.

“Not with your friend here, please,” I whispered hesitantly. It felt more intimate like this, to touch yourself in front of someone, than being literally fucked in front of someone, I was afraid Law would find it annoying but instead he chuckled. “He left a moment ago, when I brought you on the bed, I told him to leave,” He explained. I rose to my knees to look behind Law’s back and indeed saw that no one was on the chair, I felt more comfortable to do as Law suggested, but wanted to hear more of him. When I sat back, my legs still around his hips, he looked at me with a look of almost-hunger.

I chuckled nervously, never leaving his gaze. With a smug smile, his free hand caressed my throat slowly. “That doesn’t mean we’re done, I believe I was reminding you of how obedient you were before and how much you misbehaved tonight, mh?” “I’m good now, I promise,” I said clearly, not wanting to let it transpire that I kind of enjoyed how he handled the attitude.

“Then, show me how good you are, pet,” He guided my hand between my legs, and pressed my fingers with his, right behind my hand. “I’m sure you know what to do from there,” I nodded, and did exactly as he wanted, to help I rested my forehead on his shoulder and closed my eyes to focus more but was quickly stopped.

“That won’t do, show me your pretty face,” When I did, he smiled and pressed his lips on my throat, “That’s it, a lot better, good girl,” I let out a shaky breath upon hearing the words, and had to hold myself back from leaning back on his shoulder. It became harder when his tongue trailed down my neck, leaving hickeys all over it, but he was still talking between as he busied himself,

Isn’t it easier like that? To do exactly as I tell you. I find it easier to praise my girl when she is acting like the good girl, I know she is. Not when she’s bratting out. Needy for my cock. Eager to get fucked. Desperately clinging onto the power. Not letting go of it. But we both know you relish in being powerless, don’t you? Being told what to do. I can see how much you enjoy it. Look at you, fucking yourself on my lap. If you keep making those sounds, I won’t be able to hold back, doll.

Meeting his gaze once more, I said his name in the most desperate way I could. I didn’t want him to hold back, I wanted him to fuck me. Feeling myself getting close, I stopped and held onto Law’s shoulders before starting to roll my hips over his. He groaned and stopped talking, instead he gripped my hips forcefully to hold me in place. “Such a needy little thing, aren’t you?” He didn’t wait for my answer to throw me on my back and take off his pants. He reached out for the drawer in his nightstand and pulled out a condom before kneeling back between my legs and rolling the condom on.

“Seeing how fucking needy you are, I would be tempted to see how many times I can make you cum until you’re finally satiated,” He looked me up and down before smirking, “But I think you’ve had quite a ride tonight,” I nodded, arching my back at the feeling of the sheets brushing against my pained back. Grinning, Law slid a hand between my leg and hovered there a moment, “Did you go a good job, or do I need to finger you myself?” It wasn’t a need more than a want, I would never say no to feeling his hands in me, on me, touching me, playing me like a toy.

I wanted to tell him, “Law, just fuck me,” but I knew he wouldn’t like that, there was a power dynamic at play right now, I had to remember that. Yet I was also tempted to taunt him, get him more riled up but thought against it. It took some restraint, but I said, “I’m good-“ “Oh, I know you are, you are being very good, and I’m sure you’ll feel just as,” his elbows hooked under my knees, he did not waste time and started sheathing himself slowly, groaning in the process.

A satisfied smile made its way on my lips, it felt so good, feeling him stretching me out, his hands gripping my legs with so much force it made the experience only more ecstatic. I pulled myself closer to him, making him hiss as he tried to hold back more sounds of pleasure from escaping his lips. Once he was fully in, he leaned in a moment, the muscles in my thighs were stretching but I was loving it. “What if I kept you like this?” I looked at him wide-eyed, about to refuse, but he continued, “That expression on your face, I’ll be sure to do it another time, but I want to make good use of my fucktoy tonight.”

Pressing a kiss to my cheek, he trailed down and nibble the skin of my neck, “That’s what you are, mm? A good girl, but also my pretty little fucktoy,” He wanted me to say it, it felt weird to say it out loud, it didn’t want to roll of my tongue.

Bucking his hips inside me, Law grunted, “I asked you a question,” I let out a breathless pant, my head diving in the pillows, “Sure, yes, I’m your fucktoy,” I huffed, trying to meet his hips once more, but he held me in place and pinned my hands over my head once more, his free hand turning my face to look at him. “Try again, without the attitude, I want to see your embarrassed face, I did say I’d ruin that silly pride of yours, did I not?” He asked rhetorically as he started thrusting very slowly inside me.

Meeting his gaze, I felt my body heat up and stared at him the best I could, my mouth gasping soundlessly at each of his thrusts. When I closed my eyes to enjoy it more, he stopped, “You’re not going to get it, if you don’t say it, I am a patient man,” The way my name rolled of his tongue, made it a lot more sinful than I thought it could be. The staring contest lasted a few moments before I let it leave my mouth in a low tone, when I looked off to the side, I was tutted again and forced myself to look at him, jaw clenched, “I am your fucktoy, sir.”

The smug smile on his face made me believe I was done with this, but his grip on my hands tightened when he leaned in and kissed me softly. It felt warm, and reassuring, unlike the grin that was now displayed on his lips, “Guess I’ll have to make you say it with more enthusiasm,” The pace of his thrusts quickened and deepened, each followed by a grunt. The expression on his face didn’t change, he was looking at me as if challenging me, I did not even try to match it, I was enjoying it too much.

Mouth wide open, moans escaping my throat, back arched to meet each of his thrusts, my legs wrapped tighter around him to try and keep him deep inside me. My heels were digging his back, soon his thrusting was accompanied by soft praises, telling me how good I made him feel, how much he was enjoying the sight of me splayed out for him like that. My breath was erratic, I had a harder time to breath with the ropes, but I could still breathe well enough. It felt so good. I hadn’t realized I had begged for more until I heard his chuckle, “You’re taking me so well, let’s see how good you’ll do when you’re on your knees,” He pulled out and told me to turn around.

With shaky limbs, I did as he gestured and pressed my chest on the bed, my hands on each side of my head, my ass up. As his hands caressed my ass, his cock teasing me, he leaned over and in a gentle voice asked my color, “Green, green,” I repeated it in case he hadn’t heard me with my head pressed against the mattress. One of his hand gently placed itself on my head and brushed my hair softly, before tracing his hand on my back, grazing his nails on my skin on the way. I whimpered at the sudden feeling, feeling even more elated.

Without further warning, he slid his cock back in and started fucking me senseless, he did not take his time. He was going in wildly, slamming hips against his without ever stopping. I was moaning loudly, my hands gripping the sheets, when I tried to move one of my hand to touch my clit, he laughed and told me to not move them. I whined, thinking I wouldn’t get any of that heaven sent pleasure, but was caught off guard when one of his hand did exactly what I needed. His finger was playing with my clit, all the while his cock was being rammed mercilessly inside me.

When my teeth clenched around the sheet to try to hold back my loud moaning, Law only went harder but more erratically, “I believe I said your mouth could do four things, mind reminding them to me?” I nodded against the mattress, but didn’t go ahead, I felt him move and felt the sudden stinging pain of the riding crop hitting my ass. A half-pain, half-pleasure gasp left my lips, as I obeyed, “Answer your- questions,” I breathed, wanting to cover my mouth when I interrupted myself by panting more groans. “Beg,” a strong thrust, a moan, “moan,” and again. “Scream your name-“ I felt his lips pressed against my neck as he whispered a praise, “That’s my girl,”

“Now, since you’re being so good, I’ll tell you what’s going to happen, yes?” I nodded, he lazily played with my clit as his thrusts slowed down while he talked, “If by the time you’re going to cum, you haven’t admitted you’re my pretty little fucktoy,” he threaded his fingers through my hair and lifted my head to have me look at him, “And mean it, then I’ll stop, understood?” I looked at him through tired eyes, and yet with surprise. He wouldn’t do that, would he? As he if heard my thought, he smiled at me, a smile that told me he was entirely willing to do so. “Yes, sir.”

The fingers that were threaded through my hair slid to my cheek and caressed it gently, “You’re so beautiful like that, let’s have you even more fucked out, mh?” Just like that, he resumed his thrusting. It wasn’t as consistent as before, making it harder to get used to the pace. When he hit the spot, I panted out his name and regretted right away, “Right- there?-“ he bucked his hips each time, making me let out high-pitched whimpers. He leaned over, and whispered, out of breath, “Time’s running out, pretty girl,” I couldn’t look at him.

I was getting closer and closer at each thrust, my ability to speak getting lost on the way but it couldn’t let it happen. I had to tell him, but I was getting a bit foggy and out of it from how good I felt, yet I managed to utter between the melody of pleasure leaving my mouth, “Please- let me cum- I’m- fuck, your fucktoy- Law-“ A very satisfied grunt left his throat, while my face burnt hotter than fire, it was embarrassing to say so out loud, “Turn around, I want to see that pretty face of yours when I make you cum,”

When I did, I tried to cover my face, but he moved my hands away, pining them over my head once more. “There, was it that hard? Look at you, you can’t be shy when moments ago you were practically begging for my cock,” “Law, fuck me, please,” I breathed out tiredly, needily, his expression lost its arrogance for a moment and was filled with surprise before returning to the cocky one. Without another word, he fucked me senseless as promised. It was wild, rough, I tried to bring his hand to my neck, but he only shook his head and told me not tonight before focusing back on the sensation of my walls around his cock.

At this pace, we were both reaching our peak in no time. His thrusts were erratic, I was being loud but didn’t try to cover it, I knew he was enjoying it a lot and wanted him to feel as good as he made me feel. The mix of his cock hitting the perfect spot, his fingers stimulating my clit along the constricted feeling of the ropes around my chest brought me closer to release. I felt my toes curl as my back arched, the praising that flooded from Law’s mouth made me break, the knot inside my stomach snapped and I felt myself go limp. Law joined me soon, finishing off before pulling out.

I was a bit dazed, but at some point, I saw Law kneel on the side of the bed with a washcloth and ointment. He first undid the ropes around my form, it took some time. I looked at him through tired eyes the entire time, he was focused but when he looked at me, a small smile was painted on his face. “You did good, we’ll talk more about that later-“ “I’m good right now, what do we talk about?” I slurred, was I that tired?

“First, let’s take care of you. It was a bit rougher than I expected,” He said softly, when he was done with the ropes, he helped me lay on my stomach and covered my butt with a blanket as he put some ointment on my back. Maybe it was because I was only half-awake, or perhaps it was because I was dozing off even more with the massage I was receiving as he spread the ointment on my back, but I spoke, “I want to do this again… not right now, not all the time, because I think I’d like to just have casual sex with you along sessions like this too,”

With my head resting on my arms, I glanced at Law, “But also go on a date, or more than one,” I mumbled against my arms. Law hadn’t answered yet and was now drying his hands as he handed me a shirt. For a moment, I thought I had fucked up once again. That I should have just left after the sex, but not only was I physically unable to do so at this instant, but I also did not want to. “You are aware my schedule is fucked up?”

“That didn’t stop you from sexting a stranger from your office, did it?” I asked teasingly, making a blush appear on his cheeks as he stood up and put everything away. I only now realized he had dressed up once more. “What I’m saying is that, we can make it work if we want to, and… I don’t mind having online… fun if we’re both a bit busy but horny, you know?” a snort escaped his lips as he left the room and came back just as quickly with a plate in hand.

“Would you be willing to go to charity galas? Because if we’re dating, there will be a lot of those,” He said softly, his cheeks still tainted with pink. I looked up at him curiously as I put on the shirt and sat up, groaning as I felt the soreness that was settling. “Would I have to wear a fancy outfit and look super hot?” I asked half-jokingly while taking the food he handed me. It felt so fucking good to eat after such an intense effort.

Smiling genuinely, he nodded, “Yes, and maybe even add a little accessory, I think you’ve heard of it, it’s called a vibrating egg-“ “Law! Fuck off- it was- no, you know what? Let’s! I think it could be fun, but you can’t blame me if I pull you to the side when it’s too much- plus we were talking casually, did you have to bring that up?” I asked rhetorically, this time my cheeks were aflame. But we were both smiling, and when he placed a hand on my knee reassuringly and I placed mine on his.

“It’s a strange situation but I think something good can come out of it, do we give it a try?” We had both talked about being willing to do this, but this time asking it like that felt a bit frightening. I feel like he could still refuse, and I was afraid of it, but still waited. “I’ll try my best to keep you entertained, Edelweiss,” He put an emphasis on my username before leaning in and kissing me softly. We both smiled into the kiss, feeling a lot better than we did when it started, almost content.

Boredom makes you do crazy things, lack of free time too… but I think boredom won’t be a concern of mine no more, and no matter how busy I’ll be I’ll surely find some entertainment with the prettiest surgeon I would soon call partner, of more than research purposes.

[The end]

#words of pleasure #wop #trafalgardwaterlaw #trafalgar one piece #trafalgar law #trafalgar law x reader #one piece trafalgar law #law x reader #one piece x reader #donquixote rosinante #one piece corazon #physicalturian AO3 #physicalturian #one piece writing #writings #ao3 writer

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1kook · 5 years ago

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mean jungkook + library sex

alternatively titled: skirt chasers — drabble ii

this technically takes place before drabble i so the chronology is all fucked up but bear with me girlies... as most things on this blog do, it started w/ a gif v.v somehow it ended up being 4k and none of its proofread but are we surprised at this point cue the ted talk ending sequence

He was so mean.

Jungkook was horribly, terribly mean to you sometimes, and you wondered why you still allowed him to call himself your boyfriend when time and again he’d shown how mean he could be.

“Don’t do this,” you begged, voice but a hoarse whisper in the library, so desolate and void of the usual bustle of student life it had during the day time. It was nearing 10pm now, and you know the grad students who worked behind the front desk would change shifts soon. Their brief moment of inattention was what Jungkook had planned his little stunt around tonight.

He smirked, eyes facing forward at the empty seats on the other side of the table. Empty, because unlike your usual study dates, where he’d sprawl himself across from you and spend about half of his time just admiring at you, Jungkook had decided tonight that he’d sit beside you.

You hadn’t minded at first, not really seeing what the difference between sitting in front of you or beside you made, so you’d let him dump his books onto the table. Yeah it made things a little more crowded as you tried to squeeze both your laptops and an endless amount of books onto the surface, but it wasn’t anything to cry about.

No, the real issue had presented itself fifteen minutes ago when Jungkook abruptly shut his laptop. Usually, this was Jungkook speak for ‘I’ve reached maximum productivity and would like to go home now’ to which you had instinctively shut down your own computer as well. But unlike other study dates, where your boyfriend would haphazardly shove all his books into his bag and then patiently wait for you to organize your stuff, pretty, doe eyes gazing at you like you were his entire universe, Jungkook had had different plans for tonight.

“Quiet in the library,” he scolded, no real bite behind his words, the tip of his pointer finger brushing barely—and you mean barely—against your slit again. A clock ticked somewhere. Another minute dragged by.

A particular prod further down your folds made you squeal, and Jungkook shushed you quickly. “So loud,” he sighs, finally turning in his seat to face you. His movement granted you a moment of relief, his teasing hand moving away from you. His usual adoring gaze was nowhere to be seen, dark brown eyes half-lidded as he placed an elbow on the back of his chair, leaning his head into his open palm.

The library was dead silent, save for the occasional stutter of your breaths as you became aware of the way his eyes swallowed every inch of your presence before him. “Kook,” you started, and stopped because your throat was a garbled mess from stifling your whines for the past five minutes. After you’d cleared it, you began again, hoping the sweet tone of your voice would be enough to persuade him. “Let’s go back to your dorm, yeah?” You coaxed, brushing your hands down your skirt from where he’d thoroughly ruffled it. “We can relax there, okay?”

Jungkook said nothing, eyes continuing to rake over your figure. When you’d fixed your skirt, something in his jaw twitched, as if he didn’t like you trying to hide the evidence of his doings. Suddenly, his free hand, the one that had lingered on the table top, surged forward to grasp one of your thighs, tugging it towards him until your legs were pleasantly spread, your skirt dipping between the valley of your thighs.

“J-Jungkook—!” You gasped as his fingers trailed upwards to the apex between your thighs, a sudden caress to your folds making your legs clamp up again. Jungkook paid it no mind, after all your movements had left his hand snug between your thighs. Your hands flailed as they searched for something to anchor you back to reality, eventually settling on grabbing the sides of the seat.

“But what if I wanna relax here?” He sighs, leaning in closer to you, hot breath fanning across your neck as he ducked down, licking a broad stripe up the vein on your neck. His hand continued to massage the inside of your thigh, every single movement punctuated by a brush of his knuckle against your folds. Surely you were wet, Jungkook’s low murmur and wandering hands enough to light the fire beneath your skin.

But the rational part of your brain argued that the librarians would certainly pass through here during this shift change, the open study area consisting of only tables and chairs. It was a miracle no one was here tonight, but you guess it’s because it’s early into the semester, and no one has truly hit that point where they’re rushing to type essays before the midnight deadline.

Jungkook squeezes your flesh, jolting you away from your thoughts. “Come on…” he crooned, and you melt impossibly into the wooden chair. “I thought you liked the library, baby,” he teased, and his soft voice guides you into a false sense of security, one that is brutality ripped away from you when he yanks your thigh toward him again, the brute strength he rarely exhibited making you whirl in your chair, until you were facing him.

“Jungkook, someone could catch us,” you nervously warn him, chest tight with every soft caress he gives your throbbing core. You wrap a hand around his wrists, as if to stop him, but your body betrays you and a particular nudge of his fingers against your clit has you pushing his hand onto you.

Finally, he removes his other arm from where he’d been resting it on the back of the chair, shuffling around until he too is facing you. His knee knocks against yours, but you don’t have time to complain before he’s clapping both palms down into your bare thighs, smoothing them up and down as he gazes at your flushed features. “Then you better be quiet, pretty baby,” he says, leaning forward until his nose brushed against yours, and your lower lip trembled as you anticipated his kiss.

It’s soft and sweet, like Jungkook’s kisses usually were, but it’s tainted by the ravenous hunger of his that has him shoving his tongue past your lips, licking and biting you like a man starved. It’s wet, so undeniably wet, but that’s how Jungkook liked it best.

When he pulls away, his lips are slick with saliva and you wonder if it’s his or yours. You don’t have long to ponder it, before he’s knocking your thighs further apart, hand creeping under your skirt again.

You gasp, a stuttering mess as he takes two fingers and runs them up the length of your slit, pressing down in all the right places. Your stupid panties limit him from doing much else, and you whine against his mouth when the purple panties stop him from shoving his fingers into your core for the second time.

“K-Kook,” you whine, hips unconsciously grinding in circles as you chase after his touch, desperate to feel more and more of him. Jungkook delivers a stinging bite to your jawline, and you squeal in surprise.

“Shut up,” he hisses, and then, as if punishment for your volume, he tugs your underwear to the side. He provides no warning before he’s plunging two fingers into your aching pussy. He succeeds in the complete opposite of his warning, and even though you bite down on your lip, the moan that tears its way out of your throat is still loud as hell in the library. “___,” he warns, curling his fingers inside of you until you’re seeing stars.

You pay no mind to his warning, so caught up in your pleasure that you begin melting into your seat. You forget the back of the chair is beside you, not behind you like it should be, and your body weakens with every curl of his digits. It’s Jungkook’s strong hand that catches you, gripping the small of your back in alarm. “God, you’re making this so fucking difficult,” he grunts, his arm around your waist pulling your bodies even closer until his arm is uncomfortably angled between your bodies in order to keep fingering you.

“I’m sorry,” you wail, the loudness of your voice literally the last thing on your mind right now. “It feels so good, Jungkook—s-s good!” You mewl, fingers gripping tightly at the sleeves of his t-shirt. He scissors his fingers, and you swear you see heaven. “J-Jungkook!” You cry out, hands reaching to cradle the back of his head, silky strands caught between your fingers.

“Sh shh,” he shushes, and you can barely see the vein protruding from his temple. You can’t tell if it’s from being turned on or from being annoyed, and you don’t really care anyway. “Shut up, ___,” he seethes after another particularly loud whine. You decide it’s from annoyance.

“I can’t!” You cry out miserably, hips rutting into his touch the longer he thrusts his fingers in and out. His thumb stretches up, pressing down hard on your clit. You nearly release a scream of bloody murder, but Jungkook predicts this and swallows every sound you make with his lips. Your moans are muffled against his mouth, your back arching impossibly further into his chest as he curls his fingers over and over.

When he pulls away, the pop of your lips is loud, and your breathing is loud, but Jungkook just wants you to be quiet. “So fucking loud,” he huffs, each word punctuated by a rough thrust of his fingers into your pussy. “Can’t shut up for five fucking minutes.”

You tremble in his arms, the muscles in your thigh twitching every so often from how good his fingers feel nestled deep in your core. “Kook,” you babble, desperately chasing the pucker of his lips as you feel your orgasm begin to rear it’s beautiful head.

“What?” He barks, pulls you so close that his fingers push impossibly deeper. His knuckles are right against your folds, desperate to join in on the fun. But Jungkook’s hands were so, so big, and even though you could squeeze four fingers into yourself on a good day, just two of Jungkook’s fingers were enough to tear you apart. “Still got more to say?” He huffs, bites down on your lip meanly, like he doesn’t know how badly you wanted a kiss.

You whine anyway, and it registers in the back of your head the way he’d thrown one of your thighs over his to pull you closer, your entire body nearly balancing itself on your tailbone as he manhandled you around to best fuck his fingers into you. “Please,” your hoarse voice gasps.

Jungkook presses another kiss onto you, obnoxiously using his tongue until you could feel the saliva drip from the corner of your lips, his mouth greedy and inconsiderate. His fingers are curled as they thrust into you, each shove inside of you rougher than the last. You can almost taste the arousal begging to wash over you, and it’s when the thin ring on his pinky nudges against your folds that it comes to fruition.

“J-Jungkook!” You shriek, but the second half gets swallowed by his lips. Your body spasms, a cloud of white enveloping your figure as Jungkook continues fucking his fingers into you, milking every last spurt of cum out of you. Your cum gushes on his fingers, staining the parts of your underwear he hadn’t pushed away far enough.

Even when you’re coming back down, his fingers curl and scissor inside of you. You twitch, your body sensitive from your orgasm, but Jungkook doesn’t show any signs of stopping.

“That’s enough, Kook,” you choke out, hand fluttering down to catch his wrist before he really does break you. Jungkook’s hand pauses, but he doesn’t try to move away.

“That’s enough?” He repeats after a beat of silence, dark eyes staring hard. “That’s enough?” He repeats, and you hate how your hips unconsciously shift into him at the coldness of his voice. But before you can get another good caress or two out of him, he’s tugging his hand away from you like he’s disgusted. Not at you—never at you—but at your presumed selfishness.

Without warning, he’s tugging the two of you up out of your seats, shoving you chest down onto the table. The chairs scrape terribly loudly against the floor, but you don’t have time to worry about that when Jungkook’s flipping your skirt up, exposing your ass to the entire study area.

“Jungkook!” You exclaim, and at this point neither of the two of you have any regard for your volume. If someone was gonna catch you, they would have done so by now.

“Shut up,” he snarls, tugging your panties down. “So fucking tired of you, ___” he spits once he’s pulled the garment down to the middle of your thighs. He roughly nudges a knee between your legs, knocking your legs further apart. “Can’t fucking follow directions,” he huffs, and your ears register the clanking of his belt buckle, followed by a quiet zip of his jeans. “Too fucking weak to hold yourself up.” The soft sounds of fabric. “And won’t even give me a fucking thank you for making you feel good?” He snorts, and his raging cock slaps against your ass.

“Jungkook, someone will see,” you say, only to have that thought cut off as he reaches down and tangles his fist in your hair, tugging you up abruptly.

“What did I say?” He huffs, and his cock finds itself deliciously pushed between your thighs.

Your lips tremble, body arched back into him. Jungkook gives another pull, and you sputter into action. “To sh-shut up,” you whisper.

Jungkook lets up, and his sudden release of your hair has your upper body flopping back down onto the table. You go to push yourself up onto your elbows, but Jungkook presses a hand between your shoulder blades and shoves you back down.

“Are you gonna be good now?” He murmurs, hands stroking your hip. The arm on your back leaves you, but you don’t move to get up. You nod against the table, your lower abdomen folding in on itself at the raspy tone of his voice.

Your folds are still soaked from the orgasm you’d had just five minutes ago, and even if you hadn’t, Jungkook’s unusually mean demeanor had your folds drenched with every rough shove and every bark he threw your way. “Gonna be good,” you promise, though you don’t even know what that entails anymore.

You don’t really care anyway, especially not when you finally feel the head of his cock brush up and down your folds, collecting a sheen of cum that he rubs over the rest of his cock. It catches on your clit, and you slap a palm over your mouth to muffle the whine that escapes you.

Jungkook chuckles at your antics, and his voice is breathier than its been all night when he says, “good girl.”

His cock pushes against your wet hole, and when the head pops through that initial ring of muscle you find yourself squirming on the table top. Jungkook’s gasps become noticeably louder the deeper and deeper his cock reaches.

He’s so fucking big, and the sheer size of his dick has you salivating like a dog. “Okay?” He murmurs, and you nod like a bobble-head, hips shifting back into him. He releases a low string of groans, each one different from the last, as he finally bottoms out. He fills you up so nicely, and you subconsciously squeeze around him.

“Fuck,” he groans, finger nails digging into your hips, and he suddenly bucks into your tight heat. Unprepared, you moan, the hand that had muffled you before resting flat against the table top. Another thrust and you’re sobbing. “Be quiet,” Jungkook seethes, and you’re surprised he’s still even trying to keep the two to you quiet.

“Please,” you beg, wiggling your hips back into him. You know he likes this best, absolutely adores it when you entice him like this. But at the same time, Jungkook’s never been this rough with you before, this careless with his words, and you wonder if the same applies now at all. “Need you bad, Kook.”

He thrusts into you once more, and this thrust kicks off the rest as he slowly and shallowly begins pumping into you. “Told you to—to shut up,” he grunts, slowly picking up the pace.

“Nooo—,” you cry when he pulls out, only to slam back into you.

“God, you’re so fucking bad at this,” he chuckles, but there’s no hint of amusement in his voice. He does it again, pulls all the way out before shoving back in. “Pisses me off so much when you don’t do what you’re told.” He’s huffing between every other syllable he says, roughly pulling your hips onto him. “Supposed to be my good girl, or do you not want that anymore?”

“No, no!” You cry, fingers digging into the table, but it’s flat so you just scratch your nails against the surface. It’s disgusting to have your face pressed into a dirty, public table like this, but everything you and Jungkook had done tonight was by far more so. “I want that, I-I—“

Your words get cut off by a moan, one Jungkook pulls out of you after he begins pistoning his hips into you. His balls slap against your skin so loudly, it almost sounds like someone’s clapping. “Then fucking act like it,” he spits, and it hurts where he’s holding your hips, but it feels so good.

Suddenly, his cock pulls away from your warmth again. Expecting him to just thrust back in like he’d done before, you yelp when he whirls your body around, and it’s the first time you’ve seen his face since he’d made you cum nearly 15 minutes ago.

He’s hot, so unbelievably hot, as he glares at you with that cold gaze of his. You almost can’t believe this is your sweetie pie Jungkook, who just two hours ago had peppered you in butterfly kisses behind the vending machine in the student center. He looks rough and uncaring as he pushes you back into the table. One hand snakes its way behind your thigh, pushing you up until you’re sitting on the edge, and only then does he rudely push you onto your back.

“Come on,” he sighs in annoyance, like he wants this to be over with. But his hard cock curving against his stomach says otherwise. With your new position on your back, Jungkook slides two hands up the backs of your thighs, until they reach the part behind your knees and he shoves your legs up, nearly has them touching your shoulders, as he finds his spot between your lips again.

You gasp, because as much as Jungkook liked having you on your chest, thrusting into you from behind, there was nothing more that you loved than seeing his features twist and turn as he fucked you so thoroughly.

“Fuck, Jungkook!” You cry, heart fluttering in your chest at the sight of his furrowed brows, the sweat that coated his neck and his temples, the way his teeth ground together with each thrust. He was gorgeous, a wet dream, except he was tangible and very much here and very much yours. Before you can stop yourself, you’re babbling like a fool. “I love you, I love yo—“

Your second confession is cut short by the sudden uncontrollable series of thrusts Jungkook rains down on you. His hips ram into you so hard, he’d have sent you flying off the table if he hadn’t been holding onto you so tightly. “Jungkook,” you gasp again, “I love you—“

“Yeah, I heard,” he snarls, eyes zeroed in on the way your pussy clenched around his cock.

You huff, and then reach an arm forward to cradle the side of his face. If he’s surprised by your sudden affection, he doesn’t let it show. “I love you,” you choke, eyes watering from the overstimulation, the pleasure, the way he’d been so mean to you all night. “Say it back,” you blurt, and Jungkook pauses to regard you with wary eyes. “Say it back, Jungkook,” you beg, eyes pooling over until tears trickle down your cheeks, “say you love me, Jungkook, please, please.”

He swallows your heartbreaking sobs with a kiss, gentle and sweet, nothing like the mean ones he’d been giving you all night. “Love you,” he murmurs when he pulls away, lips still brushing against yours. “Love you so much,” he admits, and rolls his hips against yours.

You cry even more, but Jungkook pays you no mind, readjusting his hold on you to continue his thrusts. “I-I love you,” you sob, and then wrestle his hand away from your leg only to tangle your fingers together. “I love you!”

“Love you,” he parrots back, jaw tight as he reaches the final stretch before his orgasm. You’re trembling in his arms, from the pleasure and from the crying, and all you want is for him to love you. “Gonna come,” he announces, and ducks down to press another kiss to the corner of your lips as he rams his cock into your heat, so deep you feel him brush against your cervix.

You gasp, body writhing beneath him, stiff and aching from the hard table beneath you, but all of that fades into nothing when you reach your second orgasm of the night. You flutter, limbs boneless as your body quivers beneath his touch, coating his hard cock in another layer of cum. Adding to the first orgasm’s cum and the pre-cum on his own dick, Jungkook’s last few thrusts sound so disgustingly wet, squelching loudly in the silent library.

His hips lose control when he finally comes, stuttering uneven strokes as he bursts inside of you. Rope after rope of his hot cum coats your walls, and he’s huffing after he’s given it all to you. When it’s all said and done, it’s like a switch flicks off in Jungkook’s mind, and he’s pulling out of you hastily, reaching for your bag and where he knows you keep that tiny pack of tissues to clean you up.

“Baby,” he hurriedly murmurs, cleaning you up as best as he can with a cheap tissue, one that he also uses to wipe himself down. He’s tugging your panties back up your legs when you finally slid back into action, wiggling the rest of the way into your undergarments. Your cheeks are still wet from the sobbing you did tonight, and Jungkook is like a deer in headlights the way he’s looking at you. “I don’t know what came over me,” he hurries to explain, then shrugs a sleeve further down his arm, wrapping the material around his thumb as he dries your tears off. “I-I’m sorry...“

“You were so mean,” you pout, and your cheeks feel warm, your nose slightly stuffed, the same way they always feel after any type of crying. Jungkook startles, stumbles over his apologies as his cheeks warm up, eyes wide and panicky.

“I’m sorry,” he stutters for about the tenth time, and helps you off the table, hands wrapping around your waist the second you begin swaying, your legs so numb. “I’ll never do that again, I promise, i-it was just a heat of the moment thing, baby, I didn’t mean to make you cry, I prom—“

“Shut up,” you huff, repeating those same words back to him, and Jungkook does so immediately. A smile curls around your lips, and Jungkook slowly relaxes at the sight. “Just tell me you love me,” you sigh, pushing yourself up onto your tip toes, lips puckered and ready.

Jungkook sighs, a choked laugh of a sound, before ducking down to peck your lips. “Love you,” he sighs, “but please, stop me if I ever do that again.”

You blink owlishly. “Do what?” You ask as you shrug your cardigan on.

“Make you cry like that,” he says, taking your bag before you can even reach for it. “Hate seeing my baby like that, especially when it’s my fault.”

You roll your eyes, brushing through the empty study area and the empty library stacks. When you wave goodbye to the grad student at the desk, it’s a different person than the woman who’d been there when you and Jungkook had arrived two hours ago. His face is red as he spares the two of you a curt nod.

“Hm,” you trail off, taking his hand in yours the second you’re outside. It’s a little breezy outside, the moon shining bright over the dark campus. You think about how empty the bus will be on your way home, and how much Chaeyoung will scold you for being out late again. “Yeah, that was weird,” you laugh, brushing off any concerns Jungkook might’ve had about your little sobbing session tonight.

You’re nearing the bus stop, and before you can motion for him to hand over your bag, he’s tugging you down the sidewalk. “Come to my place tonight,” he pleads, eyes soft and round when he briefly glances at your undoubtedly unkept appearance. “Don’t want you going home by yourself, and I have to make it up to you.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong, you goof,” You roll your eyes, but follow him nonetheless. The campus still has its occasional stragglers milling about, but when Jungkook turns to face you, moon high in the sky behind him, it’s like you’re the only two in the world.

Your breath catches in your throat, and you stumble when he yanks your hand to bring you closer. “Really?” Jungkook murmurs, and all you hear is his heartbeat against your ear and his breaths puffing softly against your skin. “Then please come over and let me do it again.”

#jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #goldenclosetnet #ksmutclub #jjk smut #jeon jeongguk smut #bts smut #mine #sc universe #skirtverse #skirtfic

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panda-noosh · 4 years ago

Text

lost in translation {draco malfoy x reader}

words: 11.8k

summary: draco finds a notebook filled with beautiful, painful words. he keeps it for himself. he promises he’ll give it back to the rightful owner when he eventually finds them.

genre: angst

notes: support my writing or ask about commissions! - masterlist - i literally don’t know what plot is any more okay. also i listened to i love you by billie eilish on loop whilst writing this so feel free to put that on if you want.

---

draco sees the words every time he closes his eyes.

repeated stanzas, never leaving him alone. a mouthful of words no mind should ever be able to conjure. a haunting imagination capable of driving even the sanest people out of sanity.

he found the book on a winters day at hogwarts. christmas time was just round the corner, meaning most of his friends had already fled the castle in favour of homes, somewhere out in the muggle world, where they could spend the holidays with families who cared for them as families often cared for each other.

draco decided to stay at hogwarts.

he didn’t want to - not really. his father was just being difficult, and he wanted to face the man even less than he wanted to spend the holidays with people like potter and teachers who didn’t like him because of his family name.

he is entirely on his own this holiday season, and it depresses him more than he would ever be willing to let on.

because, you see, the thing with draco malfoy is, weakness has been a taboo subject amongst his family for as long as he can remember. his father drilled into his conscience that malfoys always have their heads held high, that they must be able to cope entirely on their own in any circumstance, because that’s what strength is. needing no one. fending only for yourself. living life to get what you want without worrying about anybody else.

this is why draco doesn’t sit with the other students during the christmas feast. instead, he finds himself traipsing through the library, poking at spines of books so old the writing has been smudged and worn, the contents made up of words once spoken in england, now lost to time.

the place smells dusty. it makes him sneeze, and he grimaces when he pulls his finger away from a shelf to see it coated in a thick layer of dust which he hastily wipes on his already gravy-stained robes. his stomach grumbles with the reminder of the christmas feast waiting downstairs for him - all he needs to do is pull a chair up and dig in. none of the teachers will mind. the students might be a bit iffy, but when has draco ever cared about what they think?

instead, he slumps against the wall, pulls a book into his lap and starts to read.

he’s so engrossed in the old text that he doesn’t hear the library door opening. he doesn’t hear peeve’s taunting cackles until they’re right over his head, peeves pointed toes very nearly scraping his slicked back hair.

draco’s head snaps up. above him, the poltergeist laughs, throwing his head back.

“peeves!” draco scrambles to his feet, swatting at the poltergeist. “oh, for christ’s sake, do you ever give it a rest?”

“all alone for christmas, are you, malfoy?” the poltergeist taunts. “surely daddy can afford you a way home with all that money the dark lord’s been shovelling into his pockets!”

draco’s face burns. “go away, you annoying little roach, before i get the hoover!”

peeves only laughs harder. “what a threat that was! wait till i tell the headmaster about that one.” and before draco can say anything else, peeves has grabbed a single, tiny book from the edge of a bookshelf and dropped it on draco’s head.

it crashes against the crown of his skull and bounces to the floor unceremoniously, flipping open upon the carpet. draco makes to yell, his fury bubbling over, but his voice is lost to the sudden emptiness of the room as peeves does what peeves does best and disappears.

draco groans through gritted teeth, rubbing the spot the book bounced from. it aches a little bit, which is surprising considering the size of the book. not a textbook. not really anything any of his teachers would ask him to check out of the library. instead, it’s spiral bound, the words not typed, but handwritten in sloppy scrawl, like the author was in a rush when transferring their thoughts onto paper.

draco frowns; why should a book such as this be in the schools library?

he picks it up by the corner, as if afraid the book might bite him - it certainly wouldn’t be the first time. the book, however, makes no strange movements. draco feels no strange, magical pull coming from the pages. in fact, if he were to use his common sense, he would believe the book to be straight from the muggle world.

that alone should have been enough to deter him, but his father isn’t here, so he opens it and starts reading.

the first few pages are awkward poetry. awkward essays, a person’s thoughts and opinions filtered with the fear of someone reading over their shoulder, perhaps. draco can tell the author was holding back, but the further he flips, the looser said author seems to become. they start using words. just words, so beautiful and magical and heartfelt that draco finds himself enraptured with every one. he struggles to put the book down, curling into his tiny corner in the library, enamoured by such language. he wonders for the brief moment he is able to take his eyes off the page if perhaps the book has been cast under a spell, if perhaps there is a spell in this world that puts heaven and hell into words and has transferred it to the very book he holds in his hands.

draco has spent so long getting lost in the talents of wizards that he sometimes forgets muggles have talents and hobbies, too. there are creatives in the world who can create emotions from such small things. there are people outside the world of magic and wizardry who can do magical things, too.

he has the evidence in his hand.

---

he keeps the evidence in his hand all throughout the year.

he comes back to it after particularly stressful classes to remind himself that not all is bad; that’s the magic these poems and essays have on him. he could probably recite each one word for word, but he never does, because they belong to him now. he’s claimed them as a comfort blanket, something he needs to get through the day. he’s found an addiction within these words that he can’t let go of, not just yet, not until he figures out who wrote them.

and that’s really all it boils down to - he wants to put a face to the mind that created the world he so desperately wants to share.

it’s a tuesday afternoon in feburary when blaise asks him about the book.

“are you ever gonna share what’s in that notebook you keep carrying around?”

the question startles draco. he thought he was being so subtle. he hardly ever brings the notebook out to face the light of day, only ever reading it behind the curtains of his poster bed in the dorms.

nonetheless, he doesn’t deny it’s existence. he doesn’t want to sound stupid.

he pokes at the vegetables on his plate and, without looking up, mumbles, “not really any of your business, is it?”

blaise scoffs. “alright, be like that then. you carry that thing around like a little girl and her secret diary.”

“are you trying to tease me, blaise? because you just sound stupid.”

blaise rolls his eyes; he’s one of the few people that don’t get properly offended when malfoy fails to bite his tongue.

“and anyway,” draco continues, “i don’t carry it around. it stays in my bed.”

“oh, really?”

“yes, and that’s where it’s staying.”

“so is it yours, or did you take it from someone?”

draco pauses. “it’s mine.”

“i’ve never seen you write in a notebook before. not even in class.”

draco shrugs; he hasn’t got a very good answer to that, because the statement is true. he tends to get others to write his notes for him when he can get away with it.

blaise sighs. he leans back in his seat, folding his skinny arms across his chest. “so are you a poet now? some kind of shakespeare?”

draco raises a brow. “some kind of what?”

blaise waves a dismissive hand. “it’s a muggle thing. just answer the part you understood.”

“i’m not a poet,” draco grumbles. “the poems in the book aren’t even mine. i found it when i was in the library a few months back, and thought it was interesting.” he shrugs like it’s no big deal, like this notebook has always just been a background prop in his everyday life. “it’s stupid, really. muggle stuff.”

“so why are you so obsessed with it?”

“i’m not obsessed!” draco’s grip tightens on the edge of his chair; he’s tired after a long day of quidditch practice, and honestly, he doesn’t want to deal with his friends bullshit any longer than he has to. “now, blaise, can you start minding your own business before we have some issues?”

that shuts blaise right up. together, they eat the remainders of their dinners before draco excuses himself and leaves the table. his mind is reeling, heart thumping both with embarrassment and annoyance; he knows he’s popular amongst the slytherins. in a way, he asked to be centre of attention when he started mouthing off about the importance of the malfoy household all those years back, but it’s frustrating that he can’t even do a bit of light reading without getting asked about it. he thought he was being so subtle, keeping the curtains closed every time he read, never taking the notebook from the confines of the dorms, never uttering a word about it to-

his shoulder crashes into yours.

“shit.”

draco stumbles back, catching himself on the wall. he’s too dazed to say anything, but his anger is rising, and he’s prepared to start yelling-

but then he opens his eyes and sees you there, fumbling with a pile of posters that have spilled across the glossy corridor floor. draco blinks, glancing from you to the posters and back again.

“i’m so sorry,” you mumble. “so sorry. i knew the pile was too high, but hermione had to go to-”

“why don’t you just-” draco flicks his wand. immediately, the posters gather in a whirlwind and fly into his outstretched arms, a neat little stack, good as new.

you look up, dazed. your eyes are gorgeous, plagued with evidence of exhaustion, but riveting nonetheless. draco recognises you only vaguely, and the few memories he has of these quick glimpses have never left him dissatisfied.

“oh,” you say after a moment. “right. spells. magic. i forgot about that.”

draco narrows his eyes.

you stumble to your feet, wiping trembling hands on your robes. it leaves a streak of dirt against the black, and that’s when draco sees the red and gold lining of house gryffindor.

“sorry,” you repeat. “i mean, thank you, for - like - helping me. i completely forgot i could just-” you swish your hands in a mock gesture of wand-movement before laughing awkwardly. “weird, right? that i would - uh - forget that in a school of magic. when i’m a wizard. ha ha.”

draco nods, because he really has nothing to say. he can’t keep his eyes off you, your awkward movements, the way you don’t even flinch at the sight of him. most gryffindor’s would be hurling insults at him by now - hell, he would be hurling insults at the gryffindor’s, too, but his words are caught in his throat and he can’t even properly function.

so he looks down at the pile of posters in his arms.

“CREATIVE WRITING 101!”

you snatch the first poster off the pile as if that will stop draco from reading it. “it’s nothing. something stupid, really.”

he looks at you again. “you like creative writing?”

you shrug.

“that’s such a muggle hobby to have. where’s the fun in it?”

and for the first time this entire meeting, you scowl. you hastily snatch the posters out of draco’s arms, struggling to keep them neat and tidy in your own, but when draco raises his wand to help you out a second time, you swat his hand away and say, “i don’t need your help.”

“you’re going to drop them again-”

you’re already backing away. “you don’t need to come, you know. me dropping these in front of you wasn’t a bloody invite.”

draco blinks. “i didn’t mean it like-”

you run a hand through your hair, nearly stumbling over your own shoes yet again. draco lunges forward in his attempts to catch you, but you yell something incoherent in his direction, apologise profusely to a first year you nearly elbow in the nose before you turn on your heel and head back the way you came.

draco stares at your retreating form, unable to fully comprehend what he did wrong. he doesn’t think he said anything offensive, let alone anything that would prompt you to nearly wipe yourself out in your attempts to get away.

but then again, he isn’t really sure why he cares.

----

it’s weird how - after one brief meeting - you suddenly appear at every corner draco takes.

he never noticed you in his potion’s class before, but now he can’t avoid you. you sit at the back, a pen lodged between your teeth, brows furrowed together; despite your eventful meeting with draco only a few days prior, you don’t seem to have nearly as much interest in his sudden presence as he has with yours. he keeps glancing at you, not-so-subtly turning in his chair every now and then just to make sure you’re not some kind of illusion. nobody in the classroom is acting like anything is out of place, so maybe you have been his classmate for a while, and he just never noticed.

he finds that a little hard to believe, but he has to take reality as it comes to him, or else he’ll go insane.

he doesn’t talk to you for nearly a week, because he’s a little afraid of what you’ll have to say. he’s a little afraid you’ll say nothing at all, that you might have forgotten who he is entirely.

it’s you who makes the first move.

it startles draco nearly out of his skin. he’s packing up his stuff, ignoring goyle’s ramblings to his left, when you slip your hand in his robe pocket. he jumps, spinning around just enough to dislodge your grappling fingers, and he’s seconds away from whipping out his wand to hex you when he freezes, eyes meeting your own, heart immediately plummeting into his stomach.

you smile, wide and polite. “hello, old friend.”

“can you get out of my pockets?” draco hisses, swatting your hand away when you make another attempt to dive into his robes. “what do you want?”

“a pen,” you reply. “i broke mine.”

“i don’t have a pen.” he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his quill. “i have a quill.”

“aaaah, my bad.” you snatch the instrument from him before grabbing his hand. he yelps, stumbling a little bit. he beams bright red when the noise he just made actually registers in his head, and he makes a mental note to scold goyle for snickering behind him.

“what are you doing?” draco demands. he tries not to get too flustered at the height difference between you - your head could very easily rest in the crook of his neck, and he hates that he kind of wants to experience what that feels like.

you scribble words into his palm. “this is the time and place for the creative writing clubs first meeting.”

draco blinks. “what?”

“time and place for the-”

“why do you want me to go?”

you scowl, not once looking up from the jagged lines of draco’s palm. “i don’t, but hermione’s asked me to gather as many people as i can find, and i think you kind of owe me one after being so rude the other day in the hallway.”

draco falters; so you remember.

“i wasn’t being rude at all,” he grumbles. “you’re just sensitive.”

“maybe.” you drop his palm and shove his quill back in his pocket. “if you want to come, be my guest; it’s going to be a lot of fun. lots of - uh - writing and stuff, i can assure you.”

draco scowls. “i won’t be going.”

“okay.”

“so this entire conversation was pointless.”

you fold your arms over your chest, as if challenging him. “okay, draco. i’m not forcing you to come if you don’t want to, but - you know - i’ll save you a seat or whatever.”

and draco doesn’t understand why that is the promise that tears him down, why that is the thing that makes his mind up for him. even as he gives you no solid answer, he knows he now has plans automatically built into his schedule to see you again, no matter how much he dreads the thought of it.

he looks down at the writing on his palm, and his heart stops.

just for a second. a brief moment of death, before life is pushed back into him when his brain kicks into overdrive and he’s certain he’s going to pass away for real with how fast his heart is suddenly beating.

he blinks rapidly. goyle is saying something, and the students are filtering out, but draco is lost, lost, spiralling as he recognises the messy scrawl, smudged even though it shouldn’t be, messy but coherent, familiar and amazing.

he’s read heaven written in this exact same handwriting. he’s read heaven, and hell, and earth, and space, and the moon, and the stars, and he’s experienced an entire new existence written in this very handwriting. it’s the same handwriting that covers every single page of his sacred notebook, hidden in his pillow case back at the dorms. it’s the same handwriting that gives a form to the aches and pains and anxieties of the person who has just walked away from him, the person who’s brain draco has lived in since christmas.

----

“you’re actually going?”

“it’s the least i can do.” draco fixes the collar of his robes, ruffles his hair a little bit. “i did nearly wipe them out in the hallway a few days ago.”

“that was an accident.” pansy throws herself across draco’s bed, as she often does when she wants the attention he has never given her. he simply glares at her reflection through the mirror, silently willing her to get up and leave so he can set off for the history of magic classroom in which the creative writing club is meeting tonight.

pansy, however, doesn’t take the hint.

“i just think this y/n person is trying to get in your head,” she continues. “your head, your bed, all of the above...”

draco’s face warms. “you can think whatever you want, pansy, but i’m going whether you like it or not. in case you’ve forgotten, you have absolutely no say in the way i live my life.”

pansy rolls onto her stomach, tugs on the back of draco’s robes. “oh, you’ve made that very clear, malfoy. don’t come running back to me when you show up to this stupid muggle club and get ostracised for being who you are.”

draco clenches his jaw, stepping out of pansy’s reach all without turning round. he knows she’s right, of course - there is no doubt in his mind that he is going to show up tonight, only to be met by the usual hostile glares he gets from everybody outside the slytherin house. he brought it upon himself, and he knows that - but he’s trying to fix it. he’s trying to prove himself as a good person to you.

to the world. not just you.

he swallows and turns. pansy stares up at him, hands curled beneath her chin, that sleezy little smile on her face. draco grimaces, points to the door and says, “the girls dorms are up the other staircase.”

pansy’s smile falls. she scowls, stands up and leaves without another word. draco doesn’t care that he’s pissed her off - pansy, in recent months, has become a little bit too much. he’s given her the most wiggle room he can provide, and she has done nothing but bombard him further.

he shakes the thought of his friend from his mind as he walks over to his bed and digs around in his pillow case. inside, he finds the poetry book he so desperately cares for, flicking to a page he has marked; he’s highlighted a few passages, and he reads them over as he steadies his breathing. this is such new territory for him. if his father finds out what he’s up to right now, he’ll be getting a very stern speaking to, possibly even a back-hand to the face if his father is in a particularly bad mood.

but then draco remembers your expression, your hand digging around in his pocket, your stumbled words that somehow manage to pull together so beautifully when you want to express yourself.

he has to see you tonight, whether it’s in a creative writing club or not. he’ll take just running into you in the hallway again, but to reach that point, he has to actually leave the dorms.

he stuffs the book back into his pillow case, flattens a particularly frustrating strand of hair, and walks out the door.

---

the history of magic classroom is dimly lit.

draco has seen pictures of muggle poetry readings before; they kind of remind him a little bit of exorcisms, and the set-up he’s currently walking into is no exception.

there’s candles lit upon every desk, the lights dimmed to create some kind of ambience that draco doesn’t understand. people are sat in a circle - people in every colour of robe, though draco is the only slytherin, it seems. this makes him a little nervous, and he hovers in the doorway, eyes tracing the scene in desperate search of you.

he spots you in a matter of seconds. you’re leaning over a candle, frowning into the flame like you can’t quite understand why it’s flickering like that.

draco makes a b-line for you.

you look up only when he’s by your side, and immediately your expression brightens. those eyes of yours widen a little bit, a smile adorning your face. you straighten up, grab draco’s arm, and he’s certain he’s going to explode.

“you made it!” you exclaim. “i can’t believe you actually came, mate; full of surprises, you are.”

draco frowns, feigning frustration, like this is something he went out of his way to attend. “why are you staring at the flame so intensely?”

“i’m staring at the flame so intensely-” you put on a pompous british accent, just to tease him, and draco doesn’t mind, “-because apparently you can turn the flames a different colour with the right spell, but it’s not working for me. watch.”

you elbow draco in the side, prompting him to shuffle over and give you more room. draco folds his arms over his chest, watching as you kneel down until your cheek is very nearly pressed against the desk. you point your wand at the flames and wave it, just once, but nothing happens. the flames barely even flicker.

you blow it out in frustration. “fuck that.”

draco laughs. he doesn’t know where it comes from, but it’s bursting out of him at the sight of your furrowed brows, and your pouting lips. you scowl at him, and it startles him how unsurprised you are to hear such a noise escape a man like draco malfoy.

draco shakes his head and nudges you to the side. “watch.”

you grab his wrist. “no. nope. absolutely not.”

“what? i’m gonna-”

“you’re gonna show me up, is what you’re gonna do, and i didn’t ask for it.” you pluck his wand from his fingers and stuff it back in his robes. draco has to fight the urge to shudder, your fingertips tracing across his ribcage as you fumble for his inside pocket.

you pull away then, shaking your head. “it doesn’t even matter, anyway; you show me up in every other class we have together.”

draco scoffs. “and i can assume you’re going to show me up tonight, so we’re even.”

you grin, because draco is right, and you both know he is right.

you make a bit more idle chat before the final people make an appearance, and you’re finally asked to sit down. draco is confused to see hermione granger being the leader of this group of creatives, as he’s almost certain he’s never read anything more beautiful than your work; surely you should be up at the front, guiding people through the craft of writing, a craft you have so brilliantly perfected.

draco sits beside you and says nothing. he fiddles with his fingers, coughing into his fist, rolling his eyes anytime someone makes a stupid suggestion. honestly, granger can talk forever, and draco is starting to get bored within the first ten minutes. all he wants is to hear you recite something, or for you to just. . . say anything about any of your pieces; draco could probably do it for you if that didn’t look creepy and uncalled for. he could stand at the front of this group and recite whatever piece of poetry he wanted from the notebook he took so long ago, and then maybe you’d get the recognition you deserve. maybe then you’d be able to share your potential instead of just sitting by draco’s side in a circle of poet-wanna-be’s.

finally, hermione turns her attention on you, however.

“y/n,” granger chirps. you jump, fumble with your wand, let it drop on the floor to roll beneath draco’s chair. he rolls his eyes and picks it up for you as you struggle to respond to hermione’s summons.

“uh, y-yeah? yes? did you ask me something?”

hermione’s brows furrow. “do you ever pay attention to anything i’m saying?”

“sometimes,” you reply, sheepishly. “definitely sometimes.”

hermione rolls her eyes. “anyway - i was just wondering if you’ve done any writing recently that you’d like to share.”

draco tenses. he flicks his eyes to his left to see you awkwardly ringing your hands in your lap, biting your lower lip.

“uh....”

“none?” hermione demands, eyes popping. “but i thought-”

“i’ve been a bit busy,” you grumble. “it’s not that big of a bloody deal, hermione, goodness me.”

“well, yes, i - i know that, but-” hermione gestures vaguely. “this is a creative writing club. i asked all of you to bring something with you. do you not even have an old piece of writing you could share with us?”

“nope.”

draco’s heart leaps. “what?”

and suddenly, all eyes are on him.

he slouches in his seat, but keeps his gaze on you. you stare back at him, eyes wide, clearly shocked at his contribution.

“you’ve got nothing?” he prompts.

you can’t even reply. you just stare, and draco knows he’s being confusing, is aware that maybe he should just shut his mouth. or, better yet, do everyone a favour and walk out before he says any more stupid things that will do nothing but embarrass both you and him.

“okay,” he grumbles, folding his arms over his chest. “okay, fine. that’s fine.” he looks up, meets hermione’s eyes. “you know what, granger, i don’t think this little club is my cup of tea. i’m going to head back to bed.”

hermione blinks. no one says anything when draco stands and walks out, but he expected nothing less. he wasn’t welcome there in the first place. he should never have even made an appearance. he should have stayed in bed and let his feelings fester until he fell asleep.

feelings are stupid anyway.

----

he ignores you.

in fact, he starts treating you how he treats everybody else - like they’re beneath him. a habit he once wanted to escape from has yet again become his comfort blanket, the thing shielding him from talking to you. every time you try making conversation, he sneers and walks off, barely even giving you the time of day.

in truth, he knows what happened is no big deal. everyone probably forgot about it as soon as he left the room, getting absorbed in their own works of poetry. however, draco knows you want to discuss it, that you probably want answers he is far too afraid to give you. if he starts explaining why he said what he said, he’ll have to talk about the notebook, and then you might ask for it back, and draco is selfish because he doesn’t think he can give it back just yet. it’s the only thing keeping him sane.

and so, he just ignores you.

he sits in potions and pretends you don’t exist. he walks past you at lunch and doesn’t even give you a smile. he looks over your head every time you stand to wave at him. he doesn’t want to risk any inkling of conversation trickling in between you.

pansy notices this, of course, but draco isn’t surprised. with how closely pansy has taken to watching over you and him, it would be more surprising to think she hadn’t caught on to the situation.

she sits beside him at lunch, slamming her tray of greens down just loud enough that a few heads turn - including your own. draco quickly snaps his eyes down to his plate, trying to pretend he wasn’t just staring at the back of your head.

“so,” pansy begins.

draco licks the stuffing from his fork.

pansy leans in, elbow hitting against his. “so. how did it go?”

“how did what go?”

“your little date with y/n! you never updated me on it!”

draco scowls. “that was days ago, pansy.”

“exactly. so now that i’ve got you trapped, you can fill me in on all the details.” she leans even closer, if that is possible. draco can smell the old woman’s perfume wafting from her robes and has to take a glass of water to quell the itch it summons to his throat. “y/n doesn’t look too happy with you, i’ll say that much. i sit behind them in care of magical creatures, and they’ve been awfully quiet since the club meeting; care to explain?”

“why is it any of your business?”

pansy grins. “because i told you someone like y/n wasn’t worth the trouble; a gryffindor, draco, really? were the robes not a big enough red flag for you?”

draco scowls. “first of all, pansy, y/n and i are just friends, and have always been just friends. i’m not doing anything to impress them.”

pansy scoffs, finally moving away to start spearing at her dinner with her fork. “how stupid do you think i am? how stupid do you think we all are? goyle doesn’t keep your little infatuation a secret, you know. he told us all about how close you and y/n get in potions together.”

draco’s grip tightens on his fork. “close isn’t really the right word.”

“the bickering? the way they make you laugh? the way you help them with their potions when they’re struggling so snape won’t tell them off? that sounds awful close to me, draco.”

he has no answer to that. his chest aches, memories of such delightful times flooding his mind and making him crave it all again. he remembers those times when he would glance over his shoulder to see you running your hands through your hair, struggling to comprehend what on earth snape has just ordered you to do; if it was anyone else, draco wouldn’t have given them the light of day, but seeing the fear in your eyes every time snape gave you even the briefest flicker of attention saw draco abandoning goyle to come save the day at your desk.

“so what went wrong?” pansy continues. “a lovers tiff?”

draco closes his eyes. “it was nothing, pansy; just me being an idiot again.”

pansy gasps, eyebrows shooting up her forehead. “you? being an idiot? and you’re openly admitting to it! goodness me, y/n must be a lot more skilled at magic than they let on, huh?”

“i don’t know what to do.”

it’s a plea. draco knows it’s a plea. in his heart, the cracks are beginning to form, and he can’t pretend any longer. he watches the back of your head - has been watching the back of your head since the meeting, because that’s the only glimpse of you he will let himself have. it hurts to see you laughing, smiling, slapping ron weasley on the arm. it shows you’re healing, moving on from your attempts to get draco to listen.

he’s ruined everything.

pansy leans forward. her voice is softer now, surprisingly kind. “draco, are you serious about this? i know i’ve been teasing, but do you actually like y/n in that way?”

draco bites the inside of his cheek. he remembers the times he had with you, how he used to laugh so freely with little care as to who heard. you teased him and made him feel normal, and he isn’t sure when his appreciation for you went past the poetry you wrote and emerged into you as a human being, but it’s happened, and he’s nodding to pansy’s question before he can think better of it.

pansy draws back, letting out a shaky breath. “wow, okay. . . this is definitely new territory for me. for you. i’m not sure how to go about it.”

“i took their notebook from them,” he mumbles.

pansy raises a brow. “their - their notebook?”

“y/n writes,” he explains. “beautiful things. addictive things, and i found their notebook in the library over christmas and i kept it for myself. i only found out it was theirs a few days ago, but. . . i never told them i have it. i got scared to.”

pansy pauses. draco’s never used that word in a sentence before. it sounds fake, like he’s made it up and just thrown it at the end of his sentence for the fun of it.

“well, that would be a good place to start, i think.”

his eyes snap up. “what?”

“give them their notebook back.” she says this like it’s obvious, raising her brows. “it’s a good way to start a conversation, and once the conversation’s been breached, you can go on to explain everything else - it’s pretty simple when you get your head around it, draco.”

he blinks. it does make sense, but again, there comes that burning protectiveness he can’t seem to shake.

selfish, selfish, selfish.

he glances over at the gryffindor table. you’ve got your head thrown back again, laughing so loudly and so carefree that draco’s heart trembles because he isn’t the one making you laugh like that. it’s ron. it’s harry. it’s everyone who thinks he’s an awful human being, bringing joy to the one person who’s ever seen him as decent. they’ve probably told you a joke about how draco’s scum, how he’ll never amount of anything, how he claimed his spot at the top purely because of his father.

fury pools in the pit of draco’s stomach. he spears his food with his fork, pushes away from the table and walks out of the dining hall before giving pansy an answer as to whether he simple plan is one he’ll actually take into consideration.

but now that he’s storming through the halls towards the slytherin common room, he knows it’s not something he can just consider. he can never move on with you with your notebook stuffed in his pillow case. he needs to be honest, and he needs to apologise, and these are all things he struggles with greatly, but all things he needs to learn before he loses you for good.

---

the notebook hasn’t seen the light of day past draco’s dorm since christmas.

it feels weird carrying it so freely now, slowly making his way through the halls with it pressed against his chest, the spirals digging into his lower arm. people look at him, but nobody bats an eye at the notebook, and why would they? it’s not suspicious. most of them probably think it’s nothing more than a school notebook, used for taking notes in classes.

still, his anxiety runs at a million miles per hour. he wants to yell at anyone who even glimpses the tiny square peeking from over his arms. he wants to tell them it’s none of their business.

but he doesn’t. he keeps walking until he’s reached the gryffindor common room.

it’s just his luck that ron weasley is the one stood outside. the ginger lad spots draco immediately, and it’s reflex when draco scowls and says, “got nothing better to do, weasley?”

ron glares. “what are you doing here, malfoy? the slytherin common room is back the way you came.”

“good thing i’m not going to the slytherin common room.” he nods towards the portrait hole. “is y/n in there?”

ron pauses. “what do you want with y/n?”

“i need to talk to them.” he swallows before gently unravelling the notebook from his arms. “i accidentally grabbed this in potions - i need to give it to them.”

“right, give it here then.” ron reaches for it, and draco stumbles back. he stumbles, not even bothering to swat ron’s hand away as pure panic seizes him. ron pulls back hastily, eyes widening at draco’s response.

draco, through gritted teeth, says, “just go get y/n for me, will you?”

ron stares at him a second longer before turning on his heel and walking back into the gryffindor common room. draco tries calming himself down in the minutes it takes for ron to reappear with you at his side.

the attempts are futile.

the minute he lays eyes on you, his heart starts thundering in a way that confuses him to no ends; he shouldn’t feel like this over someone so ordinary, and in truth, that’s what you are. you’re a student, just like him, struggling through school life, just like him. you go about your day in almost the exact same way as he does, and yet he’s never before felt so intrigued by another individual.

when your eyes meet his, you don’t smile. you don’t even look surprised. you grip the front of your night gown, glaring at him, not saying a word in greeting; draco’s mouth has gone dry, however, and saying anything is the absolute last thing on his mind when you’re standing in front of him, hair a mess, more beautiful and casual than he’s ever seen you.

ron is the one who has to break the silence. “he said he’s got a notebook for you.”

draco inhales sharply, suddenly remembering the artefact clutched in his hands. your eyes drift to it, and for a moment, you look puzzled. your eyebrows scrunch together, head tilting a little before you say, “that’s mine?”

draco thrusts it in your direction. “please take it.” he turns to ron. “and you - please leave.”

ron looks offended, looking at you for back-up, but your eyes are peeled on the notebook, not paying even the slightest bit of attention to ron. in the end, the weasley man rolls his eyes and stalks back into the gryffindor common room, leaving the corridor empty besides you and draco.

and draco feels every sliver of tension like it’s been injected into his bone marrow. flashes of his behaviour play on loop in his brain, the way he ignored you, the amount of times he scowled at you every time you tried speaking to him; he never meant any of it, of course, considering you’re the most fascinating person he’s ever come across, but he did it anyway, and that’s what he has to patch up.

somehow, he has to patch this up.

he looks to the floor, tucking the notebook back against his chest when you don’t take it from his hands. the silence is crushing, but draco has absolutely no idea what to say to fill it in - pansy made this all sound so easy; he would hand you the notebook, and a conversation would immediately stem from that.

but no. draco’s mind has gone completely blank, and you still look furious, and neither of you are doing anything to resolve the mess he has made.

finally, however, draco can’t take it any more. “i found your notebook.”

“yeah. ron said.” you pluck it out of his arms. “where did you even find this? it’s so old.”

“in the library.”

“the library? what was it doing there?”

draco shrugs. “how would i know that?”

“considering you’re the one who stole it-”

“i didn’t steal it. i just didn’t know who it belonged to.” a lie. he shouldn’t be lying. that’s a bad way to go about things. “i mean, i took it back to my dorm with me, kept it safe, but - like - i was of course going to give it back once i figured out who the owner was.”

you hum. “i’m sure you were.” you flick open the pages, immediately spotting a passage draco has highlighted in bright orange pen. “you tabbed it?”

he shrugs. “sometimes i read it when i got bored.”

“i should be angry at you for that, you know - that’s a big invasion of privacy.”

“yeah. you should be.” he looks up sheepishly. “are you?”

you pause, eyes continuing to drift over the pages of your own work, work you haven’t seen or reread since at least christmas time. you don’t look impressed, or angry, or anything at all, really. you just read the lines and nod, as if taking inventory.

then, you look up and say, “i’m more angry at the way you’ve been treating me this past week.”

draco wilts. he knew it was coming, that this was the main source of hostility for the both of you, but he really thought the presence of the notebook would somehow buy him some time, maybe make this conversation a bit easier.

you snap the notebook closed, shoving it into the pocket of your night gown. “you didn’t even tell me what i did wrong!”

“you didn’t do anything wrong!”

“then why were you acting like that? why couldn’t you just talk to me?”

draco squeezes his eyes closed, trails his hands through his hair, tries to calm down before he says something he’ll immediately regret. “you know, it’s a lot more complicated than you’re making it out to be.”

you pull back, puzzled. “how is it complicated? you’re nearly eighteen years old, draco! it shouldn’t be complicated to talk to someone when you’re mad at them!”

“ i wasn’t mad at you! i thought you were mad at me!”

you throw your head back and laugh, and this is the very noise draco has been craving for days, but he doesn’t want to hear it now, not here, not in this context. you’re not taking him seriously. you’re not listening.

“this is the stupidest thing i’ve ever heard,” you cackle. “is this about the fucking club meeting? you think i gave a shit about what you said?”

draco shakes his head. “again, love, it’s not as simple as that.”

“then explain it to me. explain to me what the hell was going through your head to make that switch flip so suddenly.”

something inside draco snaps, a string he didn’t even realise was being pulled so taut.

“do you wanna know what’s been going through my head recently?” his voice drops, your expression faltering. “it’s that fucking notebook of yours. it’s been all i can think about for weeks, because i can’t wrap my head around the idea of you being the author of those poems.”

you blink. “w-what?”

“you’re so carefree. you’re so. . . so you, y/n, and it seems impossible to me - unfathomable! - that you could be thinking such harrowing thoughts and not a single person has picked up on it besides me - and i’ve only done so by complete accident.” he inhales, runs a hand through his hair. “i’ve read your poems a thousand times over, and even though i know they came from you, i still can’t put your face to the words. i still can’t figure out how on earth you and that notebook are related in any way, and it’s been driving me insane. i want to help you, and it’s driving me insane.”

again, you blink. the corridor goes quiet. draco’s breathing slows, stabilises, and he has no idea what he’s just said, or if any of it makes sense, but there is a weight off his chest that provides such a great amount of relief he wants to cry.

finally, you swallow. your knuckles protrude from your hand with how tight your grip on the notebook is. your eyes stray to the ground, throat bobbing, mouth opening for just a second before you seem to think better of it and go silent again.

draco takes a step back. “look, you can have it back,” he says. “i don’t want it any more. i don’t - i don’t need it any more. but i just want you to know i’m sorry, and i never wanted to hurt your feelings. i was just. . . feeling things, and it wasn’t normal for me, and i got scared.” he raises his hands in mock surrender, taking another step back. “feel free to never talk to me again. i’ll understand.”

he waits for another second. hope springs to his chest, hope that you will tell him not to go, that you’ll forgive him on the spot and the two of you can live happily ever after, but it doesn’t work that way. you meet his eyes and nod, before turning on your heel and heading back into the gryffindor common room.

---

“how did you mess that up again?”

draco presses his knuckles into his eyes, as if pushing goyle’s words out of his brain. he should never have told the other slytherin about his encounter with you, but goyle was the first person on the scene, and malfoy just lost control; he needed to rant to someone. he needed to get it off his chest.

and it seems now goyle has suddenly developed a perfect memory, as two days after the meeting in the corridor, he has not let the subject drop.

the two sit together in defence against the dark arts; their teacher has long since left the classroom in search of some more work sheets for them to get cracking with, and the class has erupted into an expected chorus of conversations. draco wants nothing more than to put his head on the table and ignore the world, take this break as a chance to catch up on some of the sleep he has been robbed of these past few weeks, but goyle doesn’t let him go that easily.

the bigger boy leans over and taps draco on the back of the head. “come on, man, talk to me. there’s got to be something we can do.”

“there is nothing,” draco barks through gritted teeth. “and i’m sick of repeating myself, goyle, so shut your trap before i shut it for you.”

goyle sighs, leaning back in his seat. “so y/n just. . . didn’t even say anything? they just walked off without a word?”

“they did, which i took as a clear sign they never want to see me again.”

“do you not think you might be looking too deeply into that reaction?”

draco glares, eyes bloodshot, probably more terrifying than they have ever been. “tell me where on earth i could have looked too deeply.”

goyle shrugs. “well, you did admit to spilling this massive, emotional speech over them in the middle of the night - maybe they just didn’t know what to say at the time. i bet if you go up to them now and ask for a follow-up conversation, they’d be more than willing to sit down and discuss everything.”

“there’s nothing to discuss. i said everything i wanted to say, and y/n rejected me - i’m man enough to take it at face value and move on.”

a lie, of course, but draco just wants goyle to shut up. he wants to continue sulking on his own, because that’s what he does best. he doesn’t need friends patting him on the back, trying to cheer him up. he knows he’s messed up, and he’s willing to suffer in solitude for his stupidity.

“i’ve just never seen you act like this around anyone.”

draco’s head snaps up. “what do you mean?”

but he knows exactly what goyle means, because goyle is telling the truth. nobody has ever made draco this stupid. nobody has ever plagued his mind like this, and it’s driving him insane.

goyle folds his beefy arms across his chest. “i’m not saying it’s a bad thing, draco; sometimes it’s nice to see you unravel a little bit. god knows you’ve had a stick rammed up your ass for long enough.”

draco rolls his eyes. “well, there’s no point in dwelling on it; nothing is going to happen. whatever friendship y/n and i had is gone, and i’m just gonna have to accept it.”

goyle scowls, but draco pays him no attention. instead, he goes back to idly tapping his pen against his bottom lip, trying desperately to put his own words into play. he just needs to get over you. he needs to go back to the cold hearted, uncaring wizard he was raised to be, because that was the only version of himself that never got hurt. he never let himself get hurt. it’s strange how you walk into his life, and suddenly that entire side of him is being stripped away, replaced by this oversensitive, overthinking, annoying piece of shit who suddenly relies on someone else to get them through the day.

draco hates it, but he hates the idea of not having that even more.

----

“so are you going to tell me why y/n won’t talk about you?”

draco looks up, his scowl a reflex when he makes eye contact with ron weasley. he stands over him, arms folded over his chest, wearing a set of school robes with little burn marks pecked into the material; draco has half a mind to tease him for it, before finding he has absolutely no energy to do such a thing right now.

instead, he leans back against the tree he has been sat under, gazing at the sky as mountains of homework piles up in his dormitory - piles of homework he has yet to touch, because every time he tries focusing his mind on a single task, it veers off and he can’t do anything.

ron raises a brow at draco’s silence. “no? you’re both gonna keep your mouths shut?”

“i don’t see how it’s any of your business.”

“no, of course you don’t.” and then, ron does the most surprising thing - he slumps down next to draco, their shoulders clicking. “i’m gonna take a wild guess and say you fucked things up again.”

draco swallows, closing his eyes. “again, none of your business, weasley.”

“good answer. it makes perfect sense now.” ron nudges his arm. “what happened?”

and draco knows it’s out of character. of all the people he could rant to, ron weasley should - and always has been - the absolute last on his list, but he looks at ron and he’s reminded that he is your friend, that ron makes you laugh, and he’s probably cheered you on during this uncomfortable time with draco. with that knowledge comes a sense of warmth, a gratefulness he’s never felt before, one he doesn’t completely understand.

but he leans into it, because he’s too tired to fight it off. with his cheek pressed against his knees, he tells ron the whole story, from start to finish. he goes back as far as christmas, that god-forsaken day in the library when he wanted nothing more than to enjoy a nice bit of light reading whilst he ignored the rest of the students downstairs, how peeves had dropped that notebook on his head, and he’d grown attached to it, rereading the poems every day until the day he had to surrender it back to you.

“sounds quite stalkerish,” ron comments.

draco scoffs. “it does, doesn’t it?”

ron sighs, shifting slightly. in the distance, a group of first years run screaming away from the whomping willow. a stone gargoyle shakes its winds atop the astronomy tower. such beautiful sights, and yet draco can’t feel a thing.

“okay, look,” ron says. “don’t get any of this twisted, alright? i still hate you. more than i thought humanly possible.”

“cheers.”

“but, i care about y/n. a whole lot. they’re like family to me. they’ve been miserable these past few days, and it’s starting to take a toll on me. so, i’m here to give you a bit of advice.” he turns, leans in, lowers his voice. “don’t give up so easily.”

draco jerks away. ron snickers, leaning back against the tree, gazing out at the green grass without a care in the world; draco, however, is stunned, heart racing though he doesn’t even know why. those words just hold so much hope, a hope he hasn’t let himself feel since it happened. he was slowly coming to terms with the idea of never talking to you again, and here ron weasley walks into the scene, ruining everything - like always.

draco splutters, swallows, pulls himself together. “w-why do you say that?”

“i thought it was obvious, mate,” ron replies. “y/n clearly has a soft spot for you. god only knows why, but that’s neither here nor there. all i care about right now is the fact they’ve been moping around for days, not even laughing at my jokes or anything. it’s getting exhausting when all you need to do is talk, and this entire thing could be resolved.”

“it’s not as easy as that.”

ron raises a brow. “oh? and why not?”

draco opens his mouth to respond, because he’s certain he has one. however, when he thinks about it, there really isn’t a decent answer to that question; he’s young, dumb, embarrassed. he stole your notebook, gave it back, confessed his feelings and then fled the scene - the only reason he hasn’t spoken to you since that fateful day is because he doesn’t want to bring up his own embarrassing gestures ever again. the quicker he buries them, the better.

but at the cost of you? maybe he should rethink it.

ron laughs. he stares at the side of draco’s face, pure amusement dancing across his features. draco scowls, because that’s what draco always does when he sees even the slightest flicker of joy on the weasley boys face; it’s become routine by now, even if he doesn’t feel the same contempt he’s so used to.

“it’s bizarre, isn’t it, that i’d be the one giving you relationship advice,” he says.

“it’s bizarre you’re helping me out at all, to be honest.”

“i’m not as heartless as you like to think i am, malfoy.” he stands, wiping his hands down his robes, smearing muck on the already dirty cloth. “if anyone asks, we were arguing and i won.”

draco blinks. “thank you, weasley. i mean it.”

ron rolls his eyes. “i’m sure you do. now never speak to me again.” he turns on his heel and strolls back down the hill without a second glance in draco’s direction.

----

draco’s heart is going to burst from his chest.

he’s been in this state far too often these past few weeks. he wants it to stop. he wants to go back to a life where he didn’t have a care in the world, where he owned this school, where he had the confidence that has carried his family name for decades.

the only way he’s going to reach that point again is by sorting things out with you.

or at least letting you know how he feels, because he can’t deny any of it any more. he can’t go around pretending you mean nothing to him. no, he still can’t explain where these feelings came from, if they started with the poetry and grew, or if they started that very day he laid eyes on you in first year and thought you were the prettiest one of his lousy classmates. he can’t explain any of it, but he doesn’t need to try. he doesn’t need to go as far back at that. all he needs to do is talk to you, let you know that you have changed him in very scary ways, and then he can move on. no matter your reaction, he can move on.

at least, that’s what he tells himself as he walks through the school corridors in search of you. it’s already getting dark, the january days lasting what seems like only a handful of minutes. students are flooding from their last classes of the day, and it’s only when draco spots a gryffindor bustling through the crowd does he stop.

he grabs the unsuspecting student by the arm, not even surprised nor offended by his look of pure disgust. draco simply grins, because that’s reflex for him, before saying, “have you seen y/n l/n anywhere?”

the boy furrows his brows. “i saw them talking to filch when i was walking to class. what do you want with them?”

draco raises a brow; talking to filch? what could you possibly want with argus filch of all people?

draco shoves the gryffindor away, thanking him with a nod before he turns and starts towards the caretakers office. he’s never been there before, mainly because he’s never wasted his time trying to hold a decent conversation with the caretaker, but he finds it in good enough time - an ordinary brown door, decorated only with the name ‘argus filch’ written across it in what looks like normal, muggle sharpie pen.

draco racks his knuckles against it, uncertain if he’s doing any of this right. in all his years at hogwarts, he’s seen filch in his office only a handful of times, and even if he just happens to be in his office now, what will draco even ask him? what he was talking to you about? if he somehow knows where you went after the conversation was over?

he waits there, however, because he has no other leads, and he needs to talk to you. he needs to get this over with, or else he won’t be able to sleep, and he can’t afford to be groggy during quiddith practice; he’s been performing bad enough these past few weeks, and if he can just get this off his chest-

the door swings open.

it isn’t filch.

“argus, i promise i’ll be done in-”

you pause. your eyes widen. your mouth snaps closed, grip tightening on the door frame, and draco is certain he’s going to explode at any moment.

“y/n.”

your name is a whisper, barely audible over the sound of his racing heartbeat. he doesn’t even know if he said it, or maybe it was just a thought. at this moment in time, the two things are interchangeable.

“draco.” you swallow, shuffle awkwardly, look to the floor in a rare look of timidity. “w-what are you doing here?”

“i was looking for you.” he speaks fast, like he’s running out of time, and maybe he is. maybe you’re only giving him a few seconds before the memories flood back and you slam the door on his face, ruining his chances once and for all. maybe you think his attempts are idiotic, embarrassing, and you’re only letting him talk out of pity.

but you don’t slam the door on his face. not at all. you stand there, looking more beautiful than draco has ever seen you, even though nothing has really changed.

draco swallows, curling his fingers into fists. “someone told me you - you were in here.”

your eyes snap up. “i didn’t tell anyone where i was. that was kind of the whole point.”

draco nods like he understands, because part of him kind of does - hiding away, pretending you are the only person to exist. it’s a comfort sometimes.

“what do you want, draco?”

and just like that, everything he wanted to say is swept from his brain.

you fold your arms over your chest, one foot tapping rapidly against the floor. “d-did you have anything to say to me?”

you almost sound hopeful.

“ron told me not to give up so easily.”

you pause.

draco rushes on, because he knows he hasn’t done this right. he’s gone so far off script, and he hasn’t even got to the main point of his argument.

“i don’t listen to weasley - ever. quite frankly, his advice is usually more detrimental than helpful, but - but he told me earlier to come find you. he told me you weren’t doing so good-”

“ron-”

“and i don’t know if that’s true on your end, but it’s true for me.”

you blink.

draco exhales shakily, running a ringed hand through his hair. “i’m not doing so good, y/n. i don’t like the way we left things. i don’t like the fact that we left things at all. i should have explained myself a bit better, or come to you sooner, but you know how i am. god, you know how i am better than anyone else in the world, so please, please understand that i’m trying so hard to put my dignity aside to let you know how much i care about you.”

there is a silence. a silence so heavy that draco feels crippled beneath it, unable to do anything but wait in anticipation for a response he might not even deserve. he’s done so many things wrong - not just with you, but with life in general. he is a bad person, and he knows this, and he’s trying to change, because you don’t deserve a bad person.

you swallow. he watches your throat bob.

“i don’t know if i believe you.”

your words are a whisper, but they shatter everything around him like they were screamed at the top of your lungs.

he shakes his head dumbly, like that is answer enough. he wants to say something to argue his case, but his tongue feels heavy and a cloud has passed over his brain.

“draco, i don’t know if i believe you,” you correct, sounding almost desperate. “y-you treated me like shit for no reason. you took my notebook and didn’t give it back. you’re a dick to my friends-”

“i know,” he bursts through gritted teeth, like he is in physical pain. “y/n, i know. i know, and i’ve been beating myself up over it for weeks. but that’s what i do - that’s what i’ve always done. i play the victim card and blame everybody else for my wrongdoings, and it’s childish. i’m trying to stop. i’m really, really trying.”

you open your mouth to respond, but draco takes one look at the tears in your eyes and barrels on, suddenly desperate to dig himself further into the dirt.

“you know what? i don’t even know why i’m here. i’m sorry. i should just - i should just leave you alone and let you get on with your life. you and i were never meant to be together, and i just need to accept that and move on.” he can’t stop talking. he can’t stop hating himself. “i’m sorry, though. for everything i did to upset you. for every stupid thing i said or did - know i didn’t mean it. from the bottom of my heart, y/n, i would never hurt you. never. so that’s why i’m gonna go. i’m gonna leave you alone. i’m g-gonna support you in whatever you want to do in the future. as long as you’re happy.”

he tries for a smile, because that’s the way you’re meant to end these things, isn’t it? you smile, and you shake their hand or something, but draco can’t bring himself to do that, so he turns on his heel instead. he turns away from you, knowing this will be the last time, that there is absolutely no going back, no matter what horrible advice ron weasley gives him. he needs to get over you. he needs to let you go once and-

“draco.”

you grab his wrist and he stumbles. he stumbles because of your grip, but he stumbles, too, because his name on your lips will never get old. it’s music to him, music he never listens to because his father always said it was a waste of time. he basks in it, spinning around to meet your eyes, and his heart crumbles at the tears now rolling down your cheeks.

his own eyes widen. “y/n-”

“you’re so stupid,” you sob. “so fucking stupid, do you know that?” you wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him in for a desperate hug. you sob into his shoulder, and draco is frozen, hands hovering over the small of your back, unsure how to take this reaction. “you’re literally the most idiotic person i’ve ever met in my life. how is it you? how is it always you?”

draco blinks. “how is what always me?”

“everything!” you wail, hugging him tighter. “it’s just always you, draco. always.”

and draco still has no idea what you mean, but he’s learning to understand that maybe he doesn’t need to know what you mean all the time. maybe he just needs to be there for you to yell and cry and make no sense, and that will be enough.

he wraps his arms around your waist, nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck. he’s never been any good at hugs, but he’s melting into this one.

“idiot,” you whisper into his neck. “thinking i’m just gonna let you leave like that. . . thinking i don’t like you back. . . thinking i’ve stopped thinking about you for even a second these past few days. . .”

draco holds you tighter.

you pull away after a moment, quickly swiping your hand beneath your eyes. they are puffy now, red-rimmed, and draco knows he will have to explain this to ron in some way or the other without giving ron the benefit of knowing his advice might have actually been beneficial for once.

“i think we both messed up a little bit,” you mumble through sniffles, wiping your nose on your sleeve. “my reaction wasn’t exactly very helpful, was it?”

“well. . . no, but-” draco exhales. “i meant what i said, y/n; i never meant to hurt you. i would never do that.”

your smile trembles. draco has only a second to smile back before you’re throwing your arms around him again, pulling him in for a hug that he is getting strangely fond of.

----

your pen scratches against the paper. draco can’t sleep; he doesn’t really want to sleep, despite the hours of classes and quiddith practice he has to endure in a few hours time.

you never sleep. not really. draco is convinced you live entirely off caffeine and words, staying up into the early hours of the morning with that notebook of yours, your muggle pen darting back and forth over the pages. he scolds you for it sometimes, but he’s always smiling, and you always roll your eyes in response.

now, however, he has one arm thrown over your shoulders, watching you work. it’s already three in the morning, but he’s too enamoured to bother falling asleep; he’d rather stay up and watch you work.

“bic,” he says out of nowhere, shattering the hours of silence the two of you had collected.

you pause, looking up. your eyes are red-rimmed and bloodshot. draco smiles.

“what?”

“bic.” he nods at the pen in your hand. “that’s the name of your fancy muggle quill, isn’t it?”

you frown, taking another second to catch onto what he means, despite the clear explanation he has just given. however, it eventually dawns on you, and you frown even more.

“oh, right. yeah. bic. that’s the brand name.” you place it in draco’s hand. he holds it close to his face, squinting to read the tiny letters written in the plastic. “the best pens in the world, i’d say; much more practical than those bloody quills we have to use in class.”

“nothing wrong with our quills,” draco says, tilting the pen back and forth, examining every inch of it. “mine cost me a good lot of money.”

you scoff, snatching the pen back. “i’m sure it did. waste of a good lot of money, too, when you could have just bought a pack of twelve bic pens for a fiver.”

draco furrows his brows. “a fiver? what’s that in real money?”

you roll your eyes, smiling fondly, and it’s that very smile that has draco leaning forward to peck you on the lips. it takes you out of your work, which he knows will frustrate you in the morning when you wake up to see you didn’t get as much done as you might have liked, but for now, he doesn’t really care. not when you’re melting against him, dropping your dumb bic pen into the crease of your notebook so you can cling to him with both hands.

there are some days when draco thinks you love him only out of pity. he was the boy who lost himself to his feelings for you. he was the boy who came crawling back, the boy who was lost when he didn’t have you by his side. some days, draco has to ask you if you really want to be part of this relationship.

but then you go and kiss him like this, and he is left with no doubt that you’ve meant every single “i love you.” then you go and hold his hand at the gryffindor table, smile fondly at him as he bickers with your friends, and he knows this relationship is not a chore for you. maybe, if he lets himself hope, he can convince himself that you love him as much as he loves you.

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