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themusingsofacurlyhairednerd · 1 month

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hiiii, omg i would absolutely adore more of vampire rhysand fics, especially from that universe you created with them all vampires, will there be more? maybe when reader is turned, she can finally take both azriel and rhysand👀👀👀 or maybe to explore rhysand's relationship with her maybe nesta or someone from her family sneak in to the ball to steal reader back but rhysand is like nu uh tf

those are just some of the ideas that popped into my head, i love your writing and your smut💖

You must be psychic because I had literally just opened up a Word Document to try and write another Vamp!Rhys fic but couldn't figure out where to start!

I've got some ideas, and was thinking about doing some Monster Themed Fics for Spooky Season (More Vamp!Rhys + Bat Boys, maybe a Werewolf or Demon AU) if I can get my thoughts in order enough. Until then, pls enjoy a possessive!vamp!Rhys ;)

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Mine

Content Warnings: Slight SMUT, Possessive!Rhys, Blood and Gore

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“I’m bored,” Rhysand says by way of greeting, as he throws his lythe body onto the chase across from where you sit, curled up in a reading chair in the library.

The sun sets behind you, the golden rays peeking in through the blackout curtains that usually remain closed during the day. Most of the horde sleeps through the day, meaning, if you let your body’s natural rhythm guide you, you have the entire manor to yourself. And of course, you use most of that time to peruse the thousand year old vampire’s massive collection of books. There’s so many organized on the floor to ceiling shelves you’re not even sure you’re promised immortality will give you enough time to read all of them--that doesn’t stop you from trying, however.

The vampire lord remains in the shadows of the library, the crack of sunlight just far enough away to not burn his otherwise unbreakable skin. Sometimes you think it’s a shame he can only go out at night, while it’s true he looks his best under moonlight, the golden hue of the fading sun makes his bronze skin glow like a god. You’re tempted to set down the book in your hands and climb into his lap, unbutton the already half open shirt and run your tongue over every golden inch of him. Time has not dulled the need you feel for him, even after all these months, he’s still as tempting as he was the first time you laid eyes on him.

“There are a number of things you can do in this manor,” you say, ignoring your instincts and going back to the fantasy romance you’ve been devouring for the last hour. In truth, the smut on the page before you might also play into why your mouth is practically watering at the sight of him. You’re right at the good part, and your mind is torn between finishing the chapter and indulging your own fantasies with the very real, and very eager, vampire before you.

“Not entertaining enough,” he whines.

Your eyes still on the page as you try and think of something to offer him. He hasn’t been able to throw another ball in nearly a month, not after a group of vampire hunters had come rolling into town. Their presence had been tiresome and even Azriel, for all his talents had not been able to figure out who’d tipped them off and brought them around. Rhys had initiated an indoor ban on the whole horde just to keep everybody safe. That meant for the most part, everyone had been living off of sheep’s blood and well, you. Mostly the sheep’s blood though. Rhys had threatened to keep you locked in his room, for only his enjoyment if Azriel didn’t stop leaving so many bite marks in your thighs--his favorite place to feed from you apparently. There were more than enough bite marks across your throat to give the others pause before they tried to drink from you these days. And it hadn’t helped that Cass had snuck out and nearly been caught, drinking from a barmaid in an alley three nights ago. Everyone was on edge.

You glance up at him over the top of the worn pages in your hands. He keeps an arm thrown over his eyes, as if, even the little bit of sunlight filtering passed is enough to hurt him. Aside from that, he lays with one long leg tossed over the back of the couch, his shirt untucked and unbuttoned, the swirl of ink across his chest on full display. His dark hair is tousled, falling messily over his forehead. He had to have come directly here from his bedroom.

You look back down at the paragraph you were reading, the spicy scene practically leaping off the page at you, then back up to him as you bite your lower lip in thought. It’s usually him that initiates your interactions, him that dictates how and where you take him. You don’t mind. Truth be told, you love being able to let go of everything and let him dominate you in whatever way he sees fit. It is the height of your pleasure, knowing he could so easily break you, and yet he doesn’t. You think meeting him might actually have put some pieces of your soul back together, rather than shatter them further and you love him all the more for it. And now, in that freedom, you can’t help but wonder if there are still other things to explore?

“We could play a game?” You suggest, voice softer than you mean it to be. Neither of you have ever talked about switching things up. Why mess with a good thing, right? But he’s here, asking, and the idea is literally in your hands as you speak, like fate prompting you to try something new and exciting. It can’t hurt to ask, right? He’s never denied you anything before.

Rhys spreads two fingers over his face, so you catch a glimpse of one, gleaming, violet eye. A grin spreads across his handsome features, fangs glinting in the scarce few rays of sunlight left. There will be nothing but starlight here soon, the plain of existence made solely for him. The others may live in the dark, but it is Rhys who thrives in it. “I’m listening.”

You draw a shaky breath. It’s just a question. No harm can come from a question. But how exactly do you suggest… this? You glance down at the pages again, trying to see if they even gave it a name for you to offer him, but there’s nothing but the promise of pleasure blurring across the pages.

Gathering your courage, you unfurl your legs from beneath you and cross the distance so you can climb onto his lap. Those thighs might have been made just for you, muscle shifting to let you get comfortable as his hands settle on your hips. He sighs contentedly, like this is something he’s been missing as you settle your weight against him.

“I was reading this book and these characters are…” you scrunch your face, trying to explain without sounding crass and failing. A blush works its way up your cheeks as you shove the open book into his hands. “Maybe you should just read it.”

He takes his time, tongue slipping out to wet his full lips as he reads. You count every breath he takes in the silence, watching his face with rapt attention to try and gauge what he’s thinking about it. He’s a master of schooled expressions, always collected and together, but after all these months, you like to think you know his tells. Yet, as he reads, there is no gleam in his eye, no obvious indication of arousal from where you sit over his hips. There is nothing but careful calculation as he reads--and maybe rereads, judging by the time it takes him--the pages.

Finally he closes the book and sets it down on the floor. “You’re suggesting we do that?”

It’s hard to identify if that is amusement or irritation in his voice and you find your heartbeat quickening regardless of which it is. “I-if you want.”

“That’s not what I asked, Little One,” he tuts, hands resuming their rightful place on your hips. His thumbs stroke gentle circles into your skin, a move that can turn either teasing or cruel at a moment's notice.

“I don’t know, you said you were bored. I thought maybe, you know, since we haven’t had a ball in awhile you might want to…” the word sticks in your throat and you swallow as the intensity of his gaze pins you in place. “You know… hunt.”

His eyes light up at the word. “And you want me to hunt you?”

Your thighs clench involuntarily at the thought, a move that doesn’t go unnoticed in the slightest. He grins wolfishly, gaze pinned to where your hips rest over his. He could have you right here, like this and he knows it. All it would take is a couple rocking motions of his hips, a slide of his fingertips beneath the thin silk of your top, teasing up bare skin until he can play with your breasts and you’d surrender. He could drink his fill and take you just as you are, right here and now. But there’s no challenge in it, no fun to be had, and he wants you to tell him you want it. Want him like that.

You’d be a liar if you said you’d never thought about what he would feel like if he let loose his control and showed you just how much a monster he was capable of being. You knew that even if he lost his usual composure, he would never hurt you. Even his basest instincts would balk at the thought of causing you pain. If you said you wanted it, he would make sure that you enjoyed every minute of it.

“Yes,” you say softly.

He sits up, swinging his legs onto the floor, moving you with him. His hands slide over your hips to your ass, squeezing playfully as you squeal in surprise over the sudden shift in position. “What are the rules to this game then?”

Your heartbeat quickens in your chest. You’re actually going to do this.

“I want a ten minute head start,” you say slowly, mind spinning.

He hums as he leans forward and presses a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Done. What else?”

“No going past the gardens.” There is enough yard between the manor and the perimeter walls that you could still feel like you were outside without risking an encounter with a hunter.

“Agreed,” he kisses the opposite corner of your mouth.

“If you catch me-”

“When I catch you,” he says, lips pressing to my chin.

“If you catch me before the end of the hour,” that gives him a total of thirty minutes before the clock chimes, “then…” It’s not like you’ve never talked dirty before, but still, your cheeks are a deep set of red as you say, “then I am yours to do with what you wish.”

His eyes gleam, fangs glinting as he leans back and grins like he’s already won. “And if I say I want to be so deep inside you that every sorry hunter for miles will know your mine regardless of where I find you?”

You clench your thighs again, or attempt to, this new position in his lap doesn’t give you a lot of room to do so. “If you can find me.”

He slides you effortlessly off his lap, but you find, given the nature of the way he’s looking at you, that your legs feel weak already. “You should get going. You’ve only got ten minutes, Darling.”

You waste precious time leaning down to capture his lips in a quick kiss, but you don’t care. Every kiss, every touch is worth the lost time. He is a promise of endless time, of boundless freedom and new adventures, time is never wasted with Rhys.

He pulls away with some difficulty. “I’m still counting,” he warns.

You grin as you turn and sprint out the library, leaving the doors wide open as you run. It occurs to you now that you’ve never actually seen him hunt outside a ballroom. There’s a lot of strategy to those hunts, as you’ve observed, but he’s never had to chase anything. He’s like a spider, waiting patiently for his prey to get caught and stuck in his web for him to devour. You don’t actually know how fast or strong he is. He certainly has a heightened sense of smell, but how heightened?

You know you want to make it outside, just to let him feel like he’s getting out of the house, but going straight out the back door would be too easy. You run up the stairs to the second floor instead, then into one of the many empty rooms and unlatch the window. This might waste more of your precious time, but still, you’re curious to know if he’ll save time and run right out the door, or if he can actually follow your scent.

Carefully, you climb onto the roof and pick your way across the slanting tiles, until you reach the side of the manor where tree branches reach for you. The gardens outside the estate are massive, their own little forest, and with the gates closed, the gardeners haven’t been around to trim the trees. Branches that would normally be clipped to keep the leaves from collecting on the roof have been allowed to blossom and you find a sturdy one and nimbly walk across it like a balance beam. He may be the expert hunter here, but you spent years outside the Spring Estate, back when your parents were still alive, exploring the massive gardens and climbing the trees. Until your Governess had dragged you back by the ear, yelling about your ripped skirts and scraped knees. Hardly the lifestyle of a lady, they’d said. You couldn’t care less now as you climb, hand over hand through the dense leaves, moving from tree to tree. This is familiar yet different, you are far more free here than you had ever been back home.

Anticipation sits hot and heavy in your lower belly as you move. It’s hard to tell how much time you have left and you need to decide if the plan is to just keep moving or to hunker down and hide in wait.

When the trees start to thin, you finally clamber down onto the damp floor below and take a good look around. There are certainly plenty of bushes to hide under, but that feels… boring.

You glance over your shoulder, the trees blocking out the moonlight that has now replaced the earlier sun. Shadows cling to the trees providing ample cover, for both you and the predator you know is coming.

You bite your lip. You want it to be a challenge. So you keep moving, ears straining for any little sound that might indicate your ten minutes is up. Every rustle of leaves makes a shiver run up your spine, heart thundering beneath your ribs. It’s a heady sort of rush that makes you laugh as you break into a full on sprint, wind tearing at your loose hair.

This is freedom. Unbridled and unrestrained, there are no limits on what you can do or want, and right now, you want exactly what he promised you.

You slow to catch your breath, the trees thinning as you come closer to the hedge maze on the far side of the property. There’s usually a whole slew of string lights bobbing overhead, so partygoers can see past the towering hedges full of roses and attempt to find the bubbling water fountain at the center of the maze. It’s a showstopper when lit, but right now, it is dark and unyielding and you inch your way towards it with more than a little trepidation. It would be a good place to make him walk through to get to you, but some of the hedges are so thick and overgrown it blocks out the light, and you do not have the night vision of vampires, not yet.

A twig snaps behind you and you jump with a hand clamped over your mouth to keep from screaming as you turn to face the noise. There’s enough moonlight to see by out here, but there is no familiar shape stalking towards you. There’s nothing there at all but the trees and the maze at your back.

You give yourself a little shake to calm your nerves as you inch backwards towards the opening of the maze, still anticipating Rhys’s sudden arrival. One step back, then another, until you can almost feel the shadow of the hedges against your back. It’s a degree colder within it than outside of it.

The first bit of darkness covers your entrance.

And it covered the hiding place too, because you hadn’t seen anyone or anything within the maze until a firm hand clamps over your mouth. Surprise makes you scream, the noise muffled beneath the weathered palm as a strong arm wraps around your waist.

How the hell had he gotten behind you?!

Hot breath fans your ear as he puts his lips to your ear. “Scream, and you’re dead.”

That’s not Rhys’s voice at all!

Panic grips you and you have just enough presence of mind to fight, digging your elbow into the stranger’s soft gut, throwing your head back into his shoulder. You twist and claw and bite down on the hand covering your mouth so hard you taste blood.

“You little bitch!” The stranger snarls, his hand slipping off your mouth.

You don’t have time to spit out the blood as you scream, “RHYS!!!” As loud as you can.

The stranger grabs your hair and spins you, face scraping over a cluster of thorny roses that cuts open your cheek as you fight to keep your footing. You stumble, but before you can hit the ground, another rough set of hands grabs your arm and yanks, pulling you deeper into the darkness of the maze.

“Get off me!” You shout, your game forgotten. There is nothing but wild panic in your blood as you claw and punch at the hands that pull you deeper and deeper into the maze.

Rhys can find you in here, right? He knows this isn’t part of the game?

Blood trickles down the wound in your cheek, following a trail down your neck and chest as your head whips around to try and get a good look at your attacker. He’s not much taller than you, but he’s twice as large, his arms made of thick, corded muscle. A spiderweb of scars travels up the bare expanse of his right arm, but he has no other defining features you can see in the darkness.

The second remains in the dark as they drag you through the maze. They must have been here awhile, if they know their way through it. In no time at all, you find yourself at the maze’s heart, the fountain that’s usually so dazzling at parties remains full of stagnant water and dead leaves. Sitting on the lip of it are another two men, one carrying a sword and another wearing a bandolier full of wooden stakes. Hunters.

Your mouth dries, heart skipping a beat. No no no! This can’t be happening! How’d they get past the gate? Rhys had it made by some local witches, it was supposed to be spelled to keep hunters out!

“Y/N?”

The world narrows in to the sound of that voice, as the body attached rounds the fountain. The sliver of moonlight cuts through the overgrown shrubs, highlighting the swatch of blonde hair, carefully tied back from a face that looks so similar to your own.

Though you have no fangs of your own, you pull your lips back in a snarl as Tamlin draws nearer. “You did this?” You hiss at your brother.

He looks older, tired. Emerald eyes framed by dark circles. It’s been months since you’ve seen him. Months since he sent someone to tell you not to bother coming home since you’d ruined yourself with Rhys. Based on the stories you’d heard, he’d trashed the manor in a fit of rage when he’d found out he could no longer auction you off like a mare to be wed and bred by some stuffy, old baron or count.

He takes you in, nose crinkling as he spots the hickeys littering your throat. You’re not wearing anything more than a pair of lounge shorts and a silk top, an outfit that had felt appropriate a moment ago but now, based on the judgment and leering of the hunters, feels poorly out of place.

It’s an effort not to try and cover yourself, to stand there, blood still dripping from your cheek and keep your chin up.

“Where is he?” Tamlin demands.

Shit. Shit. Shit! Of course he’s not here for you, he’d made it clear you were as wanted as a wadded up gum wrapper. He--they--are all here for Rhys.

“Who?” You play dumb, trying to buy time. Rhys is walking right into a trap and if you don’t think of something quick…

“Don’t play dumb!” Tamlin snarls. “I know you’ve been whoring yourself out to that blood sucker!”

He can’t know that Rhys is the town’s vampire, there’s no way. Every person that leaves the manor is compelled to forget everything they saw. The whole horde is meticulous, Az has even followed people home to ensure the protection of the den.

When you don’t respond, he says, a little gentler this time, “Tell me where he is, Y/N, and I will consider this whole mess a compulsion on his part and not hold it against you. We’ll go home and find somewhere safe for you to live. There’s a temple that will take in ruined women…”

You’re seeing red. “Nobody fucking ruined me! It is my body! What I do with it is none of your business!”

He frowns. “Nesta thought you might have been compelled, I didn’t want to believe that you were so weak minded that it could happen to you, but now that I see you…”

Nesta. Your stomach twists itself into knots. She was supposed to be your best friend, and yet she had gone to Tamlin and he’d called the hunters. She must have seen Rhys drinking from you that first night after all. In her rush, she’d pissed off Cass, who had been so distracted with her leaving he’d distracted Az from following her home. She’d gotten out of the den knowing what they all were and Tamlin had spent all this time summoning these hunters.

The betrayal stings worse than the cut on your cheek, your eyes burning despite your attempts to keep it all bottled up. You can’t cry here! Not in front of them. The four hunters hover near the exits, blocking your escape, but keeping watch for Rhys all the same. They all have stakes. They’re all clearly fighting men, all capable of taking on an unsuspecting vampire.

“Don’t do this, Tam,” you whisper. If anything happens to Rhys… If they get their hands on him because you suggested going outside the manor, you’re never going to forgive yourself.

“You forced my hand!” Tamlin snarls, advancing a step towards you. “You went and made a mess of things as always! If mom were still alive she would have keeled over and had a heart attack from the strain of having you for a daughter.”

The words hit like a slap. He’d always been good at that; when he couldn’t use his size and strength, his words were just as sharp as a blade, and he’d used them to keep you in line for years. Even now, the freedom you had so desperately craved feels like it’s slipping through your fingers. You feel your shoulders hunch, chin dipping towards your chest. He’s always been so terribly good at making you feel small and useless and so terribly unwanted. Even now, your own flesh and blood isn’t here to make sure you’re alright, he’s here to prove himself a hero by killing a vampire. Your vampire.

Figures, as soon as you’d found something to love, Tamlin found another way to rip it from you.

Seeing a weakness, Tamlin stalks towards you, his footfalls heavy in the damp earth. He reaches out a hand to grab you, but before he can so much as brush a fingertip over your arm, his body flies backwards like it’s been tossed by an invisible hand. He hits the statue guarding the water fountain so hard the old angel’s head falls from it’s stone shoulders.

“Don’t fucking touch her!” Rhys snarls so loud the ground shakes. He’d come in silently, stealthy as a cat. The power that radiates off him is nothing like the demure courtier you see in the ballroom, there is nothing subtle or charming about this Rhys. There is only cold, unyielding rage as he moves around you faster than your eyes can track. You don’t even have time to warn him about what the hunters are armed with before he uses his teeth to rip the throat out of the first man. Blood splatters across his face as the hunter falls. Another blink at the second falls, his heart still beating from where Rhys holds it in his fist.

The third hunter has just enough time to slide a stake out of its sheath and lunge, but Rhys is so much faster and stronger, there is no contest. He snags the hunter’s wrist, snapping the bone so hard his wrist twists backwards, the stake now aimed at the hunter’s heart. His own momentum keeps him moving forward, even as he screams in terror, and he impales himself on his own stake. Rhys hurls the body into the thorny hedges, leaving it to bleed out as he turns to face the fourth and final hunter.

It's the one that had grabbed you initially, his thin lips pulled back in a sneer as he flips two stakes around in his large hands.

“You think you can waltz into my domain,” Rhys seethes. There’s an eerie calm to his steps now, blood dripping from his fingers, splattering the trampled grass. “And try and take what is mine?”

Rationally, you know you should be terrified of him like this--this is who he really is, not the courtly mask and disarming smiles you know, this is a full-fledged vampire in all his glory--but you’re not. Not even a little bit. If anything, the sight of him makes you feel like you can breathe again.

“I’ve killed worse things than you,” the hunter spits. “You won’t even be a challenge.”

Rhys cocks his head like he’s thinking, a grin spreading across his face. His fangs are longer than you’ve ever seen them, poking into his lower lip, where the first hunter’s blood still lingers. “Is that so?”

He takes a small step forward, and though the hunter’s fingers twitch around the stakes, he doesn’t move. He doesn’t even blink. He stands still as a statue, his chest barely rising and falling. Almost like he can’t move at all.

Rhys reaches out and plucks the stakes from the hunter’s hands like he’s taking a toy from a belligerent child. The hunter doesn’t move; doesn’t speak in his own defense.

Rhys lifts the stake to get a better look at it in the moonlight. “These are poorly made,” he tuts, right before he jams it between the hunter’s eyes. The man falls, still completely immobile.

“You’re a fucking monster,” Tamlin hisses from where he’s still struggling to get back to his feet.

Rhys slides the hand not dripping blood into his pocket, appearing bored as he puts a boot on Tamlin’s shoulder and pushes him back down into the mud. “Humans are so very dull.”

“Yet you keep my sister like a fucking pet!” Tamlin snarls, trying to rise again and losing the battle as Rhys’s heel pushes down against his shoulder until the bone snaps. “You compelled her into being with you and have been keeping her here against her will.”

You stare at the two of them. Rhys is holding back now, toying with Tamlin--the brother that had locked you up, had insisted your Governess cut your meals in half to keep you thin and desirable for a suitor; the brother who had ignored your wishes your whole life and had stolen almost every bit of happiness you had tried to carve out for yourself. Only one of them is the monster here.

“Nobody compelled me into staying,” you hiss. “Nobody compelled me into doing anything! I chose it.”

Tamlin tilts his head to look at you, despite the pain flashing across his face. “He just used his powers to freeze a man in place, you’re too stupid to know if he used them on you.”

Rhys moves his boot from Tamlin’s shoulder to his wrist, heel crushing down until the bone splinters, the resounding crack echoing through the maze. “Try that again,” he dares.

Tamlin’s howls of pain have somehow not drawn everybody else outside, but you are relieved to see it. As much as you want him out of your life forever, you’re not up for watching them all devour him like a turkey at a Sunday roast.

You pick your way around the mess of bodies until you can grab Rhys’s hand, the blood now cold and sticky over his palm. You do not balk from it. This is still your Rhys. He is still what you would choose, if you could go back to that first night on the dancefloor. Bargain or no bargain, you would have come back time and time again, to be with him and this family you have made for yourself here. This is the life you want, messy and full of monsters.

Rhys glances down at your joined hands, yours so small and delicate against the mess of his own.

You intertwine your fingers. “Please don’t kill him.”

He reaches out with his free hand to run a thumb over your ruined cheek, checking how deep the cuts are. “Why not?”

“Can he be compelled to forget about all of us? Can you make it so that we never existed?”

“Y/N!” Tamlin screams. “You don’t know what you’re doing!”

“I could,” Rhys admits. “Is that what you want?”

“I want to be with you,” you say confidently. “As a human or a vampire.”

Tamlin tries to move out from under Rhys’s boot but gets nowhere.

“I want him to no longer have control of my life. I want to be free to choose where I go and who comes with me. I am angry at him. I’ve been angry at him my whole life. But… but I don’t want him dead.”

Rhys nods, then brushes a tender kiss over your forehead. “It’ll be done then.”

Azriel appears from the shadows then, as if he’d been hovering somewhere in the maze just in case. That intense hazel gaze sweeps over you, taking stock of your injuries before he hauls Tamlin to his feet.

Your brother still tries to fight it, but his right arm hangs limp and twisted at his side, and even if he was whole, he’s no match for either of them.

Rhys takes Tamlin’s chin between his forefinger and thumb, holding him in place with just those two fingers alone. “Any last words, Darling?”

You flash your middle finger at Tamlin, “If you come back through these gates, I’ll hunt you down myself.”

“Vicious,” Azriel praises, tongue running over his lower lip in appreciation to this new side of you.

Rhys keeps his attention pinned to Tamlin. “You’ll return home. You’ll forget this vampire business. You went out and got drunk and got your ass handed to you by the barmaid.”

Azriel snickers at that.

You’ve seen that barmaid, she very well could hand Tamlin his ass, the story will be convincing.

“If anyone asks about your sister, you’ll tell them she ran away to be with the people that love her. There is no need to look for her. She is happy.”

And you are. Your chest warms at the words. You are happy here. You will always be happy here, with this new family you’ve found.

Tamlin repeats the words in monotone, like they’re being forced out of his head.

“You’ll have to find and compel Nesta too,” you say softly. “She saw us that first night.”

“Leave it to Cass to put us in this mess,” Azriel grumbles. “I should make him compel her for the trouble.”

“He’d just turn her for shits and giggles and then we’d be in bigger trouble,” Rhys responds as he releases his grip on Tamlin. Your brother’s head sags to his chest, unconscious, and Azriel drags him out through the back gate.

“It’s done?” You ask, watching them leave.

“It’s done,” Rhys confirms.

You turn to face him again and stretch up on your toes to kiss him gently on the lips, despite the blood. “Thank you.”

When you try to pull away, he slides a hand into your hair and pulls you back for another, ravenous kiss. “Are you all right?”

“A little shaken,” you confess, reaching up a hand to brush a tendril of dark hair off his head. “But alright. Are you?”

He slides his arms beneath you and picks you up like you weigh nothing. “Let’s get you cleaned up and I’ll feel better.”

In no time at all, you’re back safe inside the house, perched on top of the counter in the bathroom attached to his room. Candlelight flickers to give him a better view of the gash across your cheek, now forming a bruise beneath the split skin.

“It doesn’t hurt too bad,” you assure. “Just stings a little.”

He frowns as he pokes at it, then brings his wrist up to his mouth and sinks his fangs into a vein. “Drink,” he orders, bringing it to your lips. “My blood will heal you.”

You stare at him for a moment. It has become an easy thing to accept that he likes to drink from you. He needs blood to live and you want him to keep on living, it is an easy exchange--and one that always ends pleasurably for you at that--but this is different. It’s not necessity. He’s offering because he wants to. Because he cares about you.

“Please,” he says gently, pushing his wrist a little closer. “Let me take care of you.”

You wrap your hand around his arm as you bring his wrist to your mouth, unsure of how to go about this. He holds you steady, pressing his wrist to your lips, guiding you through it like he has everything this far. His blood is a coppery tang in your mouth as you run your tongue over the two puncture marks in his wrist and swallow it down.

By the time he pulls away, the stinging in your cheek has subsided.

“It’ll taste better once you're one of us,” he explains as he grabs a towel and cleans the remaining blood off your skin.

You watch the slow pace in which he moves now, all that rage and strength once again contained within the confines of courtly manners, but there is a stiffness to those usually graceful motions. You can almost taste the unease coming off him as he uses the same towel to clean the blood off his own face and hands.

“You’re not changing your mind about turning me after this mess, are you?”

He tosses the towel in the hamper near the door and comes to stand between your legs. You have to tilt your head back to look at him as he cups your face in his large hands. “Never.” The finality in his tone leaves no room for doubt. “I never wish to be parted from you again.”

Your heart stutters in your chest. This bargain between you is fun and exciting, and truth be told you are more fond of him than you’d ever dare say out loud, but you had always assumed those budding feelings were one sided. This was a game and a bargain at the end of the day, what was one human in the span of eternity to a thousand year old vampire? Daring to believe that you meant more to him was not a luxury you had let yourself indulge in.

“And I thought…” he shakes his head and kisses you gently at first, grounding himself in the reality that you are safe and in his arms, but it turns rough and desperate as he considers what he’s saying. “I thought I might lose you.”

You run your fingers through the silky strands of his hair, knocking a few loose leaves that had gotten caught when he’d come running after you.

“If anything were to happen to you, I don’t…” he shutters as he slides his hands beneath you and lifts you off the counter, carrying you towards his large bed with ease despite the shakiness of his breathing.

“I’ve killed thousands of hunters. I have drained entire covens of witches and packs of werewolves.” He lays you down in the center of the black silk sheets, body propped up against a dozen pillows someone who is undead doesn’t really need, his large frame kneeling over yours as he kisses you again. “I have fought and won hundreds of battles and taken down an army of other vampires. Bloodshed is in my nature. It is woven into the lifeblood of creatures like me. I am used to the killing, but I have never enjoyed it. I avoid it if I can, but tonight, when I saw those hunters around you…”

He steals another kiss, tongue sliding behind your teeth to try and claim your very breath as his weight settles between your legs. “I wanted to take my time. I wanted to make them pay for putting their hands on you. I enjoyed making them suffer. And I’d do it again.”

Perhaps the long lasting effects of being locked up has altered your brain chemistry, because such outright aggression should be a warning sign to run, but it makes heat flare in your chest instead. This is a dangerous amount of possessiveness and yet, you enjoy it. It is nice to be looked after so deeply.

“And I know that I should turn you,” he continues. “You have more than fulfilled your part of the bargain and after seeing those hunters today, I should give you an edge over them, just in case, but…” Another kiss, his hands slipping beneath your top to skim your sides. “But to turn you I have to… You have to die to become a vampire. How am I supposed to do that, knowing that it’ll hurt, even for a moment? Knowing that I will have to be the one to do it?”

Your fingers drift to the buttons of his shirt, slowly popping them open so you can touch him. “It doesn’t have to be today. We never set a time.”

“I saw that scratch on you and almost went out of my mind,” he says as he leans back enough to let you push the shirt off his shoulders, but as soon as the article is off he’s right back on top of you again, kissing you like he won’t ever get enough. “I love you,” he whispers against your lips. “I have never loved a human before. I have never been so conflicted before. I can’t lose you, Y/N. I’m just not ready to turn you yet either.”

Your hands skim up his tattooed torso, tracing every curve of ink up his chest and shoulders until you can cup his cheek. “You’re not going to lose me. Like I said, I choose you. I want to be here with you. Like this or otherwise. I am in no rush.”

He tilts his head and kisses your palm. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“I know,” you assure, using your free hand to grab him behind the neck and pull him down for another kiss. “I trust you. When the time is right to turn me, we’ll know. It’ll feel right.”

His lips pull away from yours just long enough to catch your breath before he starts trailing kisses along your jaw and neck. You let yourself relax beneath his ministrations, eyes drifting shut. It no longer feels strange that this has become the place you feel safest; this is right.

“I love you,” you say softly.

He all but purrs into your throat, the kiss he was placing there more forceful than the last. “Careful, that’s a dangerous thing to say to an immortal.”

“You said it first,” you counter, hands sliding off him to reach for the hem of your shirt. You want it off, no clothes between your bodies, the warmth of him like this seeping into your skin. There is no telling how different it’ll feel once you’re no longer human, you want to relish every experience you have while you still have it.

He nips teasingly at your throat, fangs just barely scraping your skin. Not enough to feed, but just enough to remind you they’re there. “What power you wield over me, Little Human.”

“I’ll try not to let it go to my head,” you reply.

He laughs at that, the sound rich and deep, and you think you might do just about anything to hear it again and again. “Be careful how you wield it, I would do anything you asked.”

“Anything?” You ask with a grin, a few things coming to mind.

He nips at your throat hard enough to leave a bruise this time. “No questions asked.”

“So if I have other scenes in my books I want to try out…”

“What a dirty little mind you have,” he tuts. “And when we didn’t even get to finish the first one.”

“That really is a shame,” you muse. “I was looking forward to it too.”

“Another night then,” he promises, his voice low and dangerous in your ear. “Tonight I want to take my time with you.”

And how can you say no to those kinds of promises?

#rhysand x reader #vamp!rhys #vamp!Rhys x reader #vamp!Rhys smut #vampire smut #rhysand x reader smut #smut request #acotar #acotar smut #acotar fic #rhysand acotar #my fics #my writing #my requests #asks #acotar asks #rhysand asks

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babymetaldoll · 11 months

Text

The annual BAU Halloween Costume Competition (Spencer Reid x fem!Bau reader)

Summary: Spencer wants to win a costume competition, but wins your heart instead. Word Count: 2.6K Warnings: Other than cursing? extreme fluff. A/N: Happy Halloreid and Gublerween everyone!! and if you celebrate it, happy Ieroween as well! Masterlist

No one could ever say Penelope Garcia threw lousy Halloween parties. They were always fun, with the best food and theme. Over the years, she had organized incredible celebrations for the entire BAU family. It was her moment to shine. Decorations were always spot on, the altar was always ready for pictures of long-lost loved ones. There were theme cocktails and food, but by far, the most important event of the night was the Halloween costume competition.

It had started as a joke during their first Halloween celebration, and over the years, it had turned into the main event of the night. Each year, Penelope made sure she had a prize for the winner of first place and a little something for second and third. In fact, she usually got something for everybody who participated in the party, 'cos that's the kind of host Garcia was.

And that year wasn't the exception.

The entire team was excited about the celebration. They needed a moment to relax after the last couple of cases they had had. Well, the entire team except for Spencer Walter Reid. Instead of looking forward to the celebration, he was freaking out trying to find the best costume to finally win the BAU Costume Competition. Why? because he was the only member of the team who had never won first place. Hell! He never even got second or third. He just got a participation price every year. And he hated it.

Halloween was Spencer's favorite holiday. He wasn't really into Christmas, it was too emotional and it reminded him of all the holidays he spent alone with his mother growing up, and how sometimes she wouldn't even remember it was Christmas. New Year wasn't his type of celebration 'cos he wasn't a party guy. He didn't enjoy clubbing and his definition of a fun evening included a bunch of books, herbal tea, and his couch. Not to mention Valentines. That was a miserable holiday for Reid. He never had a date that day, and the only girl he wanted to ask out was - at least according to his own words - way out of his league. So, to sum it up, Spencer's favorite holiday was Halloween and he couldn't even win a work costume competition.

He felt it was personal that year. He had to win. He had to have his moment of joy.

- "See you all guys tonight in my house!"- Garcia was beaming as she stood in front of the team that October 31st during their daily morning meeting.- "Everything is ready! We are going to have so much fun!"

- "We'll be there at seven. Savannah is very excited."- Morgan clapped his hands once and chuckled- "And you can all forget about winning this year's costume contest, 'cos me and my girl are gonna kill it."

- "I don't know, me and Will have a matching costume that could be the best one yet."- JJ smiled confidently at Morgan and Spencer frowned.

- "Do couples' costumes get more points?"- the young doctor asked, confused.

- "No, but they are fun!"- Garcia explained with a huge grin. - "Do you have your costume ready, boy wonder?"

- "Yes, and I don't mean to get cocky, but I'm sure this year you are all going to be amazed."- Reid answered with a smirk on his face.

- "No more Doctor Who then?"- Emily teased, chuckling- "You didn't knit any scarf this year."

- "My knitting skills are saved for Whovian's conventions only."- Spencer replied, making Em laugh. - "And I won't say a thing about my costume, it will be a surprise."

- "Hey, Spencer."- Garcia whispered and grabbed his sleeve as they all walked out of the briefing room, forcing him to stay behind with her.- "I was wondering if you are planning to ask (Y/N) out, or if you are going together to the party."

And Spencer's heart stopped. He opened his eyes and stared at his friend in disbelief. Not that he thought no one knew about his crush on his teammate. He just wasn't ready to deal with it just yet.

- "Ok, breathe, Reid!"- Garcia shook his arm as he nearly panicked in silence, standing in front of her. - "You don't have to do anything you don't want to, but it's getting painful to watch. She likes you too!"

- "I don't... I don't feel."- Spencer tried to rearrange the words in his head, but failed. Instead, all he managed to do was frown and sigh.

- "Wow, an IQ of 187 slashed to nothing just like that. It's amazing. You hear the legends about it, but when you see it happen, it's disturbing."- Penelope did her best not to laugh at Spencer's humiliated face. His cheeks were burning as he kept trying to explain what was happening inside his brilliant brain.

- "You don't get it, I can't ask (Y/N) out! We work together! We are on the same FBI team! What if it doesn't work? What if I lose my friend all because I thought I had a shot with her? or worse! What if she doesn't like me that way, and she laughs in my face? How do I work with her after that?"

- "But how do you live with yourself now?"- Garcia whispered after Spencer's speech.- "You are alone, loving a girl in silence. That's even worse than failing. That's just being miserable."

Spencer didn't reply. He stared at Garcia in silence as she cut him a short smile and gave him a small hug.

- "I know you love Halloween, maybe tonight could be your night."

That poor man just wanted to win a simple Halloween costume contest, and now he wasn't sure he actually wanted to go to that celebration.

Spencer took his time getting ready for the party. He had picked a Beetlejuice costume that went with his crazy natural hair. He did his makeup, put on the stripped suit, combed his crazy hair, and stared at his reflection in the mirror.

- "You might not get the girl tonight, but you are getting your first prize in that costume competition."- he assured himself in the mirror before leaving his bathroom, ready to go to Garcia's.

- "Reid! Wait for me!"- (Y/N) shouted as she ran to cross the street, holding her bag and wig in place. Spencer turned and stared at her, feeling the wind was knocked out of his lungs. She looked hot. Not good. Hot. Smoking hot. So hot he couldn't help but scan her outfit up and down before he even tried to speak. She was dressed as Lydia Deetz, wearing a red dress that hugged her body in all the right places.

- "Wh... wh... w... wow."- that was all he could say when she smiled at him staring at his costume.

- "I know, right?! I can't believe we are matching!! I had no idea you were coming as Beetlejuice!"

- "I... when I... I really... wow."- Spencer was glad no one could see him making a fool out of himself. Well. no one but the co-worker he loved. Yet, he knew if Morgan or Rossi saw him, it would be worse.

- "You look amazing, Spencer!"- (Y/N) smiled and rubbed his arm as he just stared at her, trying to form an intelligent sentence.

- "Thank you, so do you."- that was all he managed to say. (Y/N) continued smiling as she walked inside the building and into the elevator. Spencer just followed her in silence, trying to make his brain function again.

- "Oh my god!! You look amazing (Y/N)!"- Garcia nearly yelled as she opened the door and found her teammates in the hall. - "And! Oh, Jesus!! You are matching costumes too! This is amazing!"- Spencer smiled, awkwardly, thinking his friend was already one or two cocktails in, which meant that in about half an hour she was potentially going to start embarrassing him in front of (Y/N).

- "So you really wanted the extra point for matching costumes?"- JJ teased Spencer as he and (Y/N) walked into the apartment.

- "You said there were no extra points!"- he replied immediately, hoping no one would start teasing him right away. Because, obviously they would.

- "There are no extra points, but there is extra fun when you get back home."- Morgan teased him, holding Savannah's waist as she stood next to him.- "Is that your plan too, kids?"

- "You guys look amazing!"- (Y/N) ignored Derek's comment and smiled at them. They were dressed as Aladdin and Princess Jazmine.

- "Not really creepy, though."- Spencer added.- "And Halloween is the night to be creepy."

- "You are creepy all year long."- Morgan's snarky comment was ignored when Garcia walked over with drinks for everybody. JJ and Will were dressed as Harley Quinn and The Joker, Rossi was dressed as Dracula, Hotch was Neo, from Matrix, Emily was Mia Wallace from Pulp Fiction, and Garcia was Tiffany, Chucky's girlfriend. Sergio, her cat, was walking around the apartment in a tiny Chucky costume.

If you asked Spencer, he was sure he had a chance to win the competition that year. If only he could focus on it. But with (Y/N) dressed as his character's bride, dancing with Em and JJ, he had trouble thinking clearly.

- "Ok, loverboy. How did you manage to keep it in the dark about this?"- Derek asked Spencer after an hour or so into the celebration. Reid was standing next to a table, holding a drink and staring at (Y/N) dancing, not even being subtle.

- "About what?"

- "You two are clearly together. When did that happen?"

- "What? No... we... I am... she doesn't. We aren't.... no!"- he tried to explain and failed in the process. Derek raised an eyebrow staring at him, and Reid made his best effort to explain his mind. - "We didn't plan this, it just happened. I had no idea she was gonna show up dressed as Lydia."

- "Kid, you don't have to lie anymore. I'm glad things worked your way."

- "We are not together. She doesn't... we haven't. It.. it's not gonna happen, Ever!"- Spencer wanted to storm out, but he stayed still. Instead of leaving, he turned around and looked at the table, avoiding eye contact with anyone in the room. Morgan walked a step closer and stood next to his friend.

- "You didn't plan this? You are not dating?"- and Reid just shook his head,- "And what are you waiting for?"

- "It's not gonna work."

- "Of course it won't. Not if you have a lousy attitude. She loves you, stop being a coward and kiss her."

- "Easy for you to say, no girl has ever rejected you."

- "Come on, kid. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. As far as I know, she likes you too. Now go there and ask her to dance."- before Spencer could argue, Morgan walked away. And the young doctor stood there, staring at the guacamole bowl, not able to move.

- "What caught your eyes?"- (Y/N)'s voice nearly gave him a heart attack. She just stood next to him with a big smile and stared at the food on the table.- "Hungry?"

- "I'm... I'm... the cheese board looks great."- he mumbled and mentally facepalmed himself for making such a stupid comment.

- "It does! Garcia has really outdone herself this year. And last year was already pretty awesome."- Spencer didn't reply, he just stared at the food, avoiding eye contact, in a desperate attempt to keep his brain working. But (Y/N) just sighed, and after a few seconds of silence, she just walked away. Reid closed his eyes and bit his lips.

- "Well done, asshole. You really know how to look like a jerk."- he argued with himself.

- "Everybody! Get together! we are gonna vote for this year's best costume!"- Penelope clapped a few times and stood in front of the group, next to the altar with pictures of their loved ones.

- "As every year, we'll choose the winner with our clap-o-meter"- which they didn't really have, but the costume with the louder reaction from the team was the winner.

- "First we have the Joker and Harley Quinn."- JJ and Will walked to the front and the entire room started clapping.

- "Then we have Aladdin and Jasmine."- Morgan held Savannah's hand and walked in front of their friends. Everybody clapped as Savannah did a little dance and Morgan rubbed a golden lamp. Spencer looked at (Y/N), she was clapping and smiling, looking as happy as ever.

- "Next one, Beetlejuice and Ly..."

- "No!"- Spencer interrupted Garcia, raising his arm.- "We didn't come together as a couple."- and as soon as he delivered those words, Spencer turned and looked at (Y/N). Her smile was long gone from her face. Instead, she stared at him in shock. She was hurt, she was embarrassed. And most of all, she was storming out of the apartment.

- "Shit!"- Spencer whispered as she quickly followed her, as all their friends stared at them in silence. They were all thinking pretty much the same: he had fucked it up and he better fixed it.

- "(Y/N) wait!"- Spencer ran after her and held her arm before she reached the stairs.-

- "No, Spencer! I'm done! I know you hate me, but you don't have to be so mean! I thought we could work together and be civil, but clearly, you don't stand me! So, please! let me go home so you can enjoy your evening at peace."

Spencer stared at her in shock. That's what he had accomplished. That she thought he hated her. And all because he didn't know how to act around her anymore.

- "(Y/N), no. I don't hate you."

- "Don't lie! You are just gonna make it worse. I know you hate me, you never talk to me, you walk away whenever I show up, and clearly, you don't wanna participate in a silly costume competition with me!"- (Y/N) pulled her arm from Spencer's hand and started walking down the stairs. But before she could go too far, Spencer held her hand and stopped her.

- "I don't hate you, I fucking love you! I have no idea how to act when you are around! I can't even speak when you are looking at me!"- he blurted out, not even thinking. (Y/N) stared at him, frowning. None of them said a word for a few seconds until she managed to whisper.

- "What?"

- "I... love... I love you."- Spencer repeated, in a softer voice. (Y/N) took a step closer and tried to read his face, looking for any sign of deceit. But there wasn't. Instead, he stared at her in adoration, waiting to see if his words had had any kind of effect on her.

- "You do?"- she asked, and Spencer blinked, nodding- "'Cos I love you too. So much."- she whispered, blushing.

- "You... do?"- Spencer nearly choked with the words. (Y/N) nodded and smiled, as the two of them fell silent one more time

- "Now kiss the girl, damn it!!"- Rossi yelled from inside the apartment, making them giggle. Spencer held (Y/N)'s hand and moved closer to her, staring right at her lips. She smiled in anticipation and nearly had a heart attack when she felt Spencer's lips on hers, kissing her so slowly, carefully, and sweetly, like she was made of crystal.

After a few seconds, they moved apart from each other and simply smiled, still in disbelief.

- "Do you... wanna go back inside?"- (Y/N) whispered, and pointed to Garcia's apartment.

- "Or... would you like to go out on a date?"- Spencer suggested, and her eyes shone in excitement.

- "A date on Halloween sounds like the best plan ever. But I thought this year you wanted to win the costume contest."

- "A date with you is the best prize ever."- Spencer replied and held her hand, leading the way downstairs.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #mgg #babymetaldoll writes #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x fem!bau reader #hardcore fluff

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 8 months

Note

WIBTA if I start giving some very *very* Christian family members religious pamphlets from non-Christian religions as gifts?

To be clear, I am writing this while firmly believing I'm NTA but I am angry and don't trust my own judgment too much right now.

Background and Players: My Son (19) was adopted out as a baby by his incubator behind (my husband, 40) his father's back. He was abandoned at 4 by his adopted family because of behavioral issues related to what his incubator was putting into her body while she was pregnant with him, and went into foster care with people I will call Amom and Adad. Adad is a pastor in his 90s and Amom is a pastor's wife in her 80s. When Son was 13 and I had been with Husband for 5ish years, we had been told (by someone from his incubator's family but we didn't know that at the time) he was non-verbal and "mentally an infant" and that trying to pull him out of the routine he had would just be incredibly harmful to him, so we had given up hope of finding him and having a relationship with him. We got a phone call one day, a worker who was looking for a medical history for Son. Husband spent close to 3 hours on the phone with her, answering questions and asking anything he could squeeze in. Turns out, we had been lied to about his mental health just... completely. He's impossible to shut up and he graduated high school last year despite, you know, *gestures vaguely at everything* and I am incredibly proud of him. Half an hour after that call ended, she called back and told us Son might be interested in meeting us, was it okay for her to pass on our contact info. A month later, Son, Amom, Adad, Husband and I were sitting in a restaurant together and a month after that we went to their place for a week to spend Christmas with them. This is when they informed us that they had finalized his legal adoption a couple of weeks earlier. 2 years after that, my QPP moved in with us, and another year later 16 year old Son asked if he could move in with us. He still does.

The Issue: Son wants a continuing relationship with Amom and Adad, but due to the previously mentioned substances used by his incubator, he has memory and time management issues so I have to regularly remind him to contact them. I have no problem doing this, but the contact we have had with them over the last few years has soured me on their company. I've got no problem reminding Son to contact them and organizing rides for him to visit (usually QPP and I driving him, the trip is a couple of hours each way) but I'd rather never speak to them myself if it can be avoided. It didn't start out this way, but over the years they have made it very clear that they don't respect anyone else's beliefs. Not just us, like there was one night where they were going off about some Danish surgeon saying publicly that he was Muslim first, Danish second, and they were trying to convince us to be terrified by that. The conversation ended awkwardly when Husband asked if Adad was Nationality or Christian first (because that's different you see). We have found books on the bookshelves in the guest room about how any kind of queerness at all is demonic possession, one of which they wrote. They talk about things like being sent on a mission by their god to save as many (and I hate that these are quotes) "brown heathen children" by making them Christians as possible (Son and his adopted siblings are all First Nations, Amom and Adad are as white as I am), or how Jewish people are evil for stopping Christians from claiming their suffering because "Jesus was a Jew so aren't all Christians also Jews?". Amom once spent a week trying to convince me to go to church with her and share the details of my childhood sexual abuse with the entire congregation because "it will show God you are ready to be forgiven". QPP is a shintoist and after they found that out, we started seeing more literature about the Japanese, specifically during WWII, around their house when we visited.

We have politely made it clear that we are not interested in Christianity, especially not their version. Multiple times. We thought it was finally over after Son had a meltdown at them at his graduation ceremony because he wanted JUST ONE conversation with them that wasn't about Jesus. He was in tears trying to explain that to them, and their response was to tell him he needed to come back to church so they could lay on hands and chase all the demons making him say these horrible disrespectful things to them out of him. He was supposed to stay with them for a few days to visit after that, but by the time I tracked him down and got him calm, he didn't want to go anymore. They seemed to stop after that, like they actually backed off and I think I got maybe 2 emails that didn't mention God or Jesus, not even a "God bless" in the sign off. We were optimistic. Son was late organizing it but we dropped him off (at his request, he's worried that Adad won't make it to next Christmas and wanted to see him) at their place on Boxing Day. We did not hang around, we did not send gifts, we didn't even reply to the Family Christmas Email (it had a video of a Jordan B Peterson rant embedded in it and I've told them before that we are not interested in anything that sack of hateful arrogance has to say please stop putting him in my inbox). We have done everything we can to make it clear that we do not want a relationship with them for ourselves, including outright directly telling them politely to their faces that we will not stop Son from seeing them but we don't feel comfortable around them and don't want a relationship with them for ourselves. Son came back with "gifts" from them - a study guide for a specific Bible book (I got John, Husband got Michael, QPP set his on fire before we saw who it was) and a bag of candy that looked like it came out of a thrift store (I got the same one they always get me, which I laughed off the first and second and third time and explained I couldn't stand them because my abuser used to give me one when he was done. Husband is diabetic and got York Patties. QPP actually got something decent though, $20 for gas).

I have managed to keep my "I'd rather you hadn't bothered actually" rantingvto Tumblr, which i don't think they even know exists, but I'm still pissed about the Bible crap as "gifts". I am considering changing tactics completely and being super friendly, mirroring their energy, and giving them the same treatment they've given us. I want to make excuses to visit so I can explain the finer points of shintoism and Celtic paganism in every single conversation. I want to give them books for gifts, books like The Tao of Pooh and The Gospel of The Flying Spaghetti Monster. I want to wrap cash in pamphlets about The Invisible Pink Unicorn and leave it on their fridge.

QPP and husband think I should give myself more time to calm down and just keep ignoring it and playing nice when I'm forced to play at all but like, IT'S BEEN 6 YEARS.

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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shegatsby · 1 year

Note

Hear me out — Reader saves Hannibal from some sort of “his ass was this -> <- far away from being caught by fbi & friends in the dumbest way possible” scenario. They don’t want his gratitude, money or gifts but instead worm their way into his office, home & kitchen — which we all know is his life. Disrespecting his desk by using it as a chair while he works, shuffling papers around, molesting his multitude of couches & books, re-arranging his coffee station, moving all the huge / weird and not nice to use cutlery to the bottoms of the holders. This plus other things that he doesn’t know if it’s slowly driving him insane or if he’s being brainwashed when he starts preferring their ways of organized chaos.

But then they also do less annoying things, like always walking around with only socks inside. Taking over a small section of his fridge / freezer. Tugging on his apron, jacket, sleeve - anything they can reach to get his attention. Pointing out the neighborhood cats that often sunbathe in his garden; with little recaps of some of their antics. Using non-metal cooking utensils in his pots and pans. Filling the bottom drawer of his desks with mini snack packs and tiny chocolates. Giving his patients or colleagues odd nicknames - usually to do with their actions or an item of clothing they were wearing when they accidentally met Reader. Playing videogames or reading on the top floor while he has patients & then making a short comment or 2 occasionally when they leave. Getting a very plush and huggable animal pillow and leaving it on his bed — the first few weeks it will get moved to the top of the dresser when he goes to bed, shooting it with untrusting side eyes. And then later it gets moved to the empty side. And every so often when he cooks Reader will sneak up on him & just hug him from behind, moving wherever with him and eventually letting go when they have energy for the world again or when their meal is ready.

Sorry this got so specific! You’re free to ignore any of it lol! I was thinking fem or GN reader. Reader also probably knows about his dietary quirks and isn’t that bothered - their own quirk is that they view vegetables as a luxury and will clear anything and everything he makes of the sort; while also making sure to leave some for their lunch the next day.

A/N; Hi! Sorry it took me a while to post, I was busy with work. Sorry for any typos, enjoy!

Warnings; None.

When Hannibal Lecter looked at you from afar, his mind went back to the time where you changed his entire life. 3 years ago he was in Italy, teaching and enjoying his time. Well, maybe he was enjoying his time too much, because in his entire life this was the first time he almost got caught, one of the professors at the university he was teaching got too cocky and last thing he remembered was he was holding a blood dripping knife in his dominant hand, there was a knock on the door, -the professors wife- and you climbed through the window to save him. You were his assistant at the time, carrying his bag and papers, grading papers for him, you were following him almost everywhere. That night, you had a hunch, and you followed that hunch which led you to this scenario. The rest is history…

After 3 years so many things have changed, you started to live with him, he didn’t know if he wanted to kill you or not because you saw him killing, and you proved yourself to be useful so decided to keep you. Your rooms were separate, not even on the same floor, but whenever Hannibal was stressed you were always by his side, it was like a marriage but without the any complicated paper work. He liked to take you to his office sometimes, or dinners etc. Whenever someone would ask about you Hannibal’s first instinct was to protect you and tell people that you were his partner. You were protected.

At the moment he was watching you, you were watching a movie from your laptop (which Hannibal bought) covered in comfy blankets, sitting on your bed, you looked so calm and focused. He wondered what would’ve happened if he killed you that day..

‘’Is there a room for me?’’ he said, he was startled by his own question, sitting with a young person and watching a movie together wasn’t like him but over the years he found himself doing things he could not imagine before.

You looked up to meet his maroon gaze, your bedroom door was open and he was leaning on the door frame, his hair was a mess and rolled up sleeves showed his tense arms, you didn’t say anything just moved from the center of your bed. He approached with lazy steps, sat next to you, ‘’How was work?’’ you asked, ‘’Psycho was a handful as usual.’’

Hannibal had a patient and he was something else and you named him Mr. Psycho

‘’He asked about you.’’ Hannibal said as he got comfortable, ‘’What did you say?’’ that patient was asking about you a lot lately, maybe he was interested in you but whatever that was it made Hannibal irritated. You could tell by a glance, ‘’I said they are busy.’’ Even his tone was irritated. You could feel a smile forming in the corners of your mouth. No matter what you knew that Hannibal would do anything and everything to protect you.

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rebeccathenaturalist · 6 months

Text

Okay, y'all, it's rant time again. Buckle up.

A new report just came out from Public Citizen highlighting the dangers of using apps and AI foraging guides for identifying mushrooms, particularly when mushroom foraging. It's the latest in a string of warnings that are fighting against a tide of purported convenience ("just take a picture and get your answer instantly!")

I've ranted about this since last August, and I also wrote up a detailed post on how to identify an AI-generated foraging guide. I'm also including info on the limitations of apps and AI in The Everyday Naturalist: How to Identify Animals, Plants, and Fungi Wherever You Go. I'm not just saying this to toot my own horn--it's because nature identification, and teaching it to others, is literally what I do for a living. So this is a topic near and dear to my heart.

I teach a very, very specific sort of identification class; whether we're focusing on animals, plants, fungi, or all of the above, I walk people through a detailed process of how to observe a given organism, make note of its various physical traits and habitat, and use that information to try to determine what it is. I emphasize the need to use as many sources as possible--field guides, websites, online and in-person groups, journal articles, etc.--to make absolutely sure that your identification is solid.

And every year, I get people (thankfully, a very small minority of my students) who complain because my two-hour basic mushroom hunting class wasn't just five minutes of introduction and one hundred and fifteen minutes of me showing slide after slide of edible mushrooms. There are so many people out there who just want a quick, easy answer so they can frolic in the woods and blithely pick mushrooms like some idealized image of a cottagecore herbalist with a cabin full of dried plants and smiling frogs or something.

While I do incorporate a bit of information on getting started with the app iNaturalist in my classes, it is as only ONE of MANY tools I encourage people to use. Sure, it's more solid than most apps because, in addition to the algorithmic I.D. suggestions it initially gives you, other iNaturalist users can go onto your observations later and either agree with your I.D.s or suggest something different and even explain why.

And yet--even as great as iNat is, it and its users can still be wrong. So can every other I.D. app out there. And I think that is one thing that the hyper-romanticized approaches to foraging--and nature identification in general--miss. In order to be a good forager, you HAVE to also be good at nature identification.

And nature identification is an entire process that requires you to have solid observational and critical thinking skills, to be able to independently research using many different types of tools, and be willing to invest the time, patience, and focus to properly arrive at a solid identification--if not to species level, then as far down the taxonomic ladder as you can realistically manage. (There's a reason even the experts complain about Little Brown Mushrooms and Damned Yellow Composites!)

People mistake one single tool--apps--for the entire toolkit. They assume any book they find on Amazon is going to be as good as any other, and don't take the time to look up the author to determine any credentials or experience, or even whether they actually exist or not. It doesn't help that the creators of these products often advertise them as "the only [book/app/etc.] you need to easily identify [organism of choice]!"

I mean, sure, the world isn't going to end if you never question the birdsong results on the Merlin app, or if you go through life thinking a deer fern is just a baby western sword fern. But when we get into people actually eating things they find in the wild, there's often no room for error. There are plants and mushrooms that can kill you even if you only eat a tiny amount. And even if they don't kill you, they may make you wish you were dead for a few days while you suffer through a whole host of gastrointestinal nastiness and other symptoms.

There aren't any shortcuts if you want to be safe in your foraging. You HAVE to be willing to do the work. And any teacher, author, or product that says otherwise isn't being ethical. I'm glad to see more people speaking out against the "fast foodization" of foraging in regards to overreliance on apps and the existence of AI foraging books; I just hope it's enough to prevent more people from getting sick or dying.

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toutvatoujoursbien · 2 months

Text

A (relatively new-ish) fan’s perspective on Luke Newton

(I wrote my very first Tumblr post last month and now I think I’ve chosen the path of essayist/suffering. I’ve also been writing this on and off for four weeks because it seems like every other day, something new pops up or the fandom has a meltdown of some kind. I’m not even sure if it’s worth posting, but I think, like my first one, I needed to get this out of my system in order to TRY and return to being a normal person - which is still unlikely because Lukola has me in a chokehold. NOTE: I finished the majority of this on July 19, before all the weird-ass stuff happened over the weekend, and haven’t had the chance to post until now. Anyway, this is going to be long, full of ramblings that are hopefully organized in a cohesive manner, and all opinions and observations are my own. I have a lot of thoughts and feelings, okay?)

I’ve really struggled to understand why the whole Bridgerton S3 and Luke Newton PR stunt has embedded itself into my brain the way it has. Like, how could the actions of someone I don’t know still be lingering in my thoughts even now, weeks later? After my first post, I realized that there was more to the entire LN situation than I was previously unaware of - so I started digging. None of this information is hidden or secret, it was publicly available and therefore the fans picked up on it quickly. But I, personally, DID NOT KNOW ANY OF IT, going into S3, and I think that’s why everything has hit me like a ton of bricks. So I thought, surely I’m not the only new(ish) fan who has suffered from this emotional and mental whiplash?

I really, really, really loved Luke’s portrayal of Colin and I’ve thoroughly enjoyed watching all the interviews and behind-the-scenes from S3. I would also love to continue to support him as he builds his acting career. However, I didn’t have a full picture, which unfortunately includes a history of making - what I think are - poor and questionable decisions in his personal life that he also allowed to bleed into his professional one. And that’s how I find myself struggling with the dichotomy of everything I’ve seen him do during Bridgerton promo vs. lots of other actions he’s taken. So let’s talk about it, okay? (Importantly, I reserve the right to update my current opinions as more information comes to light.)

I want it to be clear that I am in no way hating on Luke. Part of my struggle with writing this post has been because I don’t want this to be misconstrued as more hate being thrown his way. That is not my intention, at all. Seeing “fans” over the past few weeks absolutely rip into him on social media has been heartbreaking and deeply unsettling. This type of behavior is ugly and nasty and no one should be subjected to it. Full stop. As others have said: it’s okay to have thoughts and criticisms (criticism ≠ hate), but please keep it to the appropriate corners of the Internet. I think you can admire/support a famous person, but you should also be able to call them out on their conduct, particularly the stuff that happens in public. Blind love/following and putting people on pedestals is never going to allow any room for reflection and/or growth. I think there is a LOT of nuance in the whole discussion around him, his past actions, his handling of things now, and what’s in store for the future.

Okay, deep breaths & continue after the cut (because this got… wordy).

Some brief background on how I got here: As noted previously, I’ve been a longtime fan of both Polin and Bridgerton, first with the book series and then with the tv show. But, for whatever reason, I never even thought about jumping into the fandom until earlier this year, in anticipation of Season 3. I will say that I have been delighted with Nicola and Luke and their work as Polin from the start, but with the nature of the show being what it is, I just didn’t pay as much attention until it was their turn to lead. I watched some behind the scenes and promos occasionally, but not consistently. It wasn’t until around the February/Valentine’s event that I started to take notice and then I fell down the rabbit hole in April (literally, figuratively, and spiritually 😅). I say all this to illustrate that up until the spring, I was part of the General Audience, though admittedly with a bias towards viewing Bridgerton favorably. Another factor is that I got most of my fandom content from Twitter (again, I’m never going to call it X), with the occasional peek into Instagram and Tumblr. Yes, Twitter is a hellscape. But I am also lazy and only have so much time to scroll online. And since everything seems to get cross-posted everywhere, it was easiest for me to keep mostly to one social media site to consume all my Bridgerton content. But I point this out because I now see this as an error on my part. Why? Because I wasn’t getting a well-rounded picture of the situation around L, N and S3. Remember my own self-admitted social media bubble? Sigh. The fast pace of tweets meant I could blink-and-miss something on Twitter, unless it trended (or really riled the fans up). It’s a breeding ground for the hyperbolic and for discourse, in general. Twitter also seems to be divided into the Luke Haters (let’s be real, most of their “reasoning” is just uncalled for, vile hate) and the Luke Apologists (who have the tendency to exhibit, imo, some gross-excuse-all-his-behaviors-he-never-does-anything-wrong rhetoric). So it wasn’t until I started noticing chatter of Luke’s past actions that it prompted me to start looking deeper into what others have witnessed and noted online, particularly on this platform. Again, it wasn’t like I was trying to find some sort of hush-hush subject matter. Instead, I rather got the impression that those established in the fandom had a sort of unspoken agreement to keep these discussions to DMs and group chats - mostly as to not detract from Polin’s upcoming season. (But seriously, great of y’all to keep it locked down, however it would have really helped a girl out all the times I was like, “why is everyone so mad?” 🤣) And a lot of things started clicking into place once I knew more of the details. So I’ve put together a list of high-level topics/points that I didn’t know before, being relatively new to the fandom. Perhaps this can help other fans who are trying to wrap their heads around the various discussions occurring now and may feel clueless.

One more thing, HUGE shout-out to @jack4132cf for giving me a concise timeline of… well, everything I apparently missed last year+ when I wasn’t part of the fandom 😆🙌🏼 They’ve really helped me fill in the blanks (of which I had many)! Also, darcytaylor has a great 3-part deep dive, and I’ve read (and backtracked) through most of herejusttosufferalong and allsortsofthingsmpov ’s blogs, among others. They’ve provided a place for differing opinions and perspectives to be voiced in a respectful manner (unless you’re a troll, in which any clap-back is justified). I may not agree with everyone’s take, but I firmly believe that hearing views from others has helped shape my own thought process.

Let’s begin, shall we?

The Hot Fuck Boy Summer™️ (which I’m trademarking as HFBS)

Bridgerton S3 wrapped up filming in March 2023 and then Luke starred in the play The Shape of Things, which was in production from around May-July 2023. At some point prior to all this, Luke and his previous gf broke up - this is reported on by several media outlets in March, as well as “news” that he joined the dating app Raya. This is where, I think, his questionable behavior starts to raise eyebrows. It’s not the fact that he’s dating - I feel like fans gave him a pass since he just ended a long-term relationship (Enter the mentality some had of “let him have his hot boy summer!”). No, I think the issue is that he was not at all private or discreet about it.

Remember when I said I think he let choices in his personal life bleed over into his professional one? Yeah, there were multiple glaring examples happening in real time last year, and the fandom took notice. He started publicly following certain users on IG and liking their posts, (unfortunately) many of whom were young, female models and dancers, under the age of 23. He (foolishly) followed his private account on his public profile, and then tried to backpedal. He engaged with some online flirtations that didn’t sit well with the fans (cough, E. Bear, cough), and then tried to backpedal. Mind you, all of this occurred and at some point later on, it’s then also decided that he’s going to move (aka, clean up) his social media presence to be more work-related. My point is:

Luke was digitally messy and left a trail (several, really).

In conjunction with the HFBS, we also have:

& That Friend Group

Ah yes, the “boys.” Look, clearly I don’t know his friend group in real life, so all I can speak on is the image they give off based on their public social media accounts. And I, personally, am very unimpressed with what they’ve chosen to share with the world. My general perception is that L’s group of friends love to have a good time and show it off; seem to have an large amount of influence over him, particularly R; and can been seen as reaping the benefits of his success. He has discussed before how he likes to be generous with his friend group. During HFBS, they posted all about their vacations, on public accounts, and tagged Luke in them. They posted thirst trap photos and tagged Luke in them. They took quite a few boat trips and, once again, tagged Luke in them. Are we sensing a pattern here?

His friend group was also digitally messy and left trails.

I am in no way saying his friends aren’t allowed to post whatever they want on their accounts. It’s totally within their rights to have a good time and capture it on their pages, and I completely understand the desire to only show the “memorable” and “fun” stuff on social media. I just think it was short-sighted to NOT consider that Luke’s fans would be interested in seeing what he was up to with his friends - and you know that people will always, always dig around on the Internet. Maybe this was some kind of fun game to them? Maybe they enjoyed the attention? Maybe they didn’t think it was that big a deal? Who knows? But I think, in hindsight, it would have been safer and smarter to not have all this documented and out in the open, imo.

My other understanding is that around the time the break up was “officially announced,” Luke’s ex began dating someone who was 22/23 at the time. His childhood friend R also ended a relationship last year and began dating a young woman around 22/23. Do I think R may have encouraged Luke in a certain direction dating-wise, especially considering that A was/is a friend of S, R’s new gf? Do I wonder if this was all to get back at J for starting a relationship with a new young thing, too? It seems likely, but of course this is all conjecture on my part. This is giving “high school drama” vibes, being played out in public, which is very, very unfortunate.

However, Luke was ultimately the person who did not ask his friends to refrain from posting him on social media, as well as publicly following young women on socials and not being very discreet about his dating life, which is what raises my eyebrows…

The Age Gap Thing

Let’s just address this here and now. Remember, these are my opinions, each individual is entitled to their own, and I hope everyone takes a moment to really think and evaluate how they feel about the matter! I’m going to be very transparent and upfront about this:

I do not like the age gap between L and many of the young women he was showing interest in last year.

I’m viewing this from the lens of someone who is an elder Millennial and female. For me, personally, my dislike has more to do with: 1) A's age when they started dating/the age she is now (22/23); but more specifically 2) the power dynamics at play.

I don’t have a problem with age gaps overall, because I believe that love can find us at many stages in life. However, I’m also of the opinion that a person 30+ should not be dating a someone in their early 20s. I’m not going to use the whole “the brain hasn’t been fully developed” argument, though valid. My issue has more to do with where an individual is in terms of life experience, emotional and overall maturity, and (this ties in with #2) financial stability within age gaps. In general, I find, say, a 45-year-old dating a 37-year-old to be on more even footing, which becomes even more so as you age. But a 22-year-old, presumably fresh out of college/university and about to embark on their next steps into adulthood, is just not in a position to date someone in their 30s. To me, your early 20s are the time for you to gain all the things I mentioned above (life experience, maturity, financial stability that is independently your own) as well as make plenty of mistakes. And that’s not to say any of that stops once you hit 30, or beyond! I know I’m constantly evolving and learning more about myself and my place in the world as each year passes.

My deeper discomfort comes from the inherent power dynamics and power imbalance between L/A. Of course L has lot more of the power in terms of money, resources and status; they are not equal partners. This article here (https://jill.substack.com/p/the-problem-with-men-who-date-much) illustrates these points much better than I can; I think it’s worth the read.

Is he allowed to date whomever he so chooses? Yes. Are people allowed to feel the ick with the current choice/choices he made last year? Also yes. Does it entitle anyone to post nasty comments on his social media? Absolutely not. I may not personally like his choice, but it’s ultimately his to make.

NOTE: I also want to address right here that, to me, his behavior isn’t “predatory” or whatever twisted narrative some folks are trying to push. Honestly, I think he’s gone the complete opposite direction from the type of women his ex and N are because it might be less complex/more simple both in terms of emotions and permanence. But obviously, pure speculation on my part.

Antagonistic A

At some point during HFBS, L meets A and she becomes a part of That Friend Group. During Fall 2023, there are many trips to Soho Farmhouse and other posts made to R/S/A’s social media accounts. A in particular made quite a few posts that could be interpreted as her wanting to show she was with L, but never actually including him fully (these are the arms/legs photos that fans talk about and side-eye). Some of these types of posts have since been conveniently deleted. L and That Friend Group celebrate NYE24 at Soho Farmhouse, where everyone but him share photos and videos. On Jan 2, a photo of L and A kissing was circulated on social media - they got caught in the video of the band playing. Also at the beginning of this year, A - for whatever fucking reason - started tagging along on various work trips and had a tendency to post TikTok’s from various hotel bathrooms. Again, insinuating that she’s with L but not outright showing it.

The “InStyle stunt” - end of March/early April, there is a trip to Los Angeles which A posted stories and photos on IG. It’s later revealed that L was going to be featured in InStyle Magazine’s “This Guy” series, which included an interview, video and photoshoot, as well as an IG post that consisted of several polaroid, “boyfriend-style” pictures. The Instyle polariods were released three weeks after A’s posts, and let’s just say that A’s are a little too on the nose to be coincidence (also cue more hand/leg reveals…) Please note, again, that some of these photos on A’s account have been conveniently deleted/removed.

These are only a few examples of how… messy this all is and how it can be viewed as her antagonizing the fans. There is a lot of back and forth debate between “just leave her alone, she’s allowed to post what she wants” against “she’s clearly using social media to taunt the fandom/get attention/chase clout/etc.” When I finally learned about all the social media games being played, I just felt really unsettled for a few reasons.

Luke has stated that he wishes to keep his private life more private (see: social media clean-up from last fall). But, and this is my big issue here, A and That Friend Group don’t seem to WANT to be private. So to me, that can push people to question how much does he know what’s actually going on (he admits to not being online much) and, more importantly, how complicit is he with all of their postings? I personally feel like the narrative being pushed by his friends is very self-serving, and doesn’t seem like it’s in L’s best interest or protecting his privacy. Because I think we all know and understand that if a celebrity wants to keep certain things private, they have the money and resources to do so - some good examples that come to mind are Ryan Gosling and Eva Mendes, Benedict Cumberbatch, Dolly Parton, and our girl Nicola herself.

A has made it a pattern to post shortly after either Nicola or the main Bridgerton account posts something, usually on IG or TT; there is timely evidence of this. So much so that the fandom jokes about how obsessed she must be with N. And these posts don’t really have much substance - other than to show off her body or her latest vacation. It just all comes off as very insecure and seeking attention, whether it’s from L or from the public in general. Again, why do we feel the need to play social media games? But this does not mean she deserves hateful comments either. I personally don’t care for her or her actions, but as an older female, I also can’t help but be saddened by the fact that she’s making many, many poor choices in a very public forum. I can’t help but wonder if she’s going to have regrets later on when/if she reflects back on this time.

The PR Stunt/Papgate

This has been dissected by the fandom to death and there are a plethora of theories on who exactly was responsible for calling the paparazzi, who knew what was actually going to happen, WHY did this occur, and how much did this impact the season and the press tour overall. It’s enough to make anyone’s head spin - hell, I’ve changed my opinion at least a dozen times over the past several weeks. Regardless, the thing that aggravates me the most about the whole thing is the absolutely terrible and suspicious timing of it. As stated in my previous post: Here’s my point: I think what should have been a moment of triumph and a joyous occasion for Nic, Luke, and Bridgerton season 3, was sadly overshadowed by the aforementioned shitstorm. And that’s a damn shame. Too many cast and crew put in a lot of time, effort, and blood sweat and tears, to pull this all together.

I’m still personally stuck on a few things: 1) How did paps know when L was leaving the official after party? Additionally, how did they know which hotel L was going to for his after-after party? Because that’s where we got the super awkward handhold attempt photos. 2) Did L know about the first location but not the second one - which ties into was this an attempt by his PR team to distance himself from Bridgerton and Nicola now that promo was almost done? Because the way he looks from location 1 to 2 is vastly different. 3) If paps were there, why was literally NO ONE else from the cast also photographed??? 4) Why has DM double (and tripled) down over the past few weeks on how she got those exclusive photos in the first place? And 5) Who ultimately has benefited the most from this whole PR stunt 🤔??? (Because I sure as hell don’t think it’s Luke…)

The Cinnamon Roll vs The Bad Boy

Luke has stated in several interviews that he’s interested in going for edgier, darker roles. I think that’s great that he wants to try something new and diversify; I would love to see him in whichever type of role interests him! However, he’s also spent 4-5 years playing Colin, a character that is quirky, kind and lovable (much more so on the show, thanks to Luke’s portrayal) and known for being the ultimate “wife guy” amongst the fandom. It’s also been mentioned time and time again that Luke is most like his character (by Luke himself and his Bridgerton cast mates). Nic speaks so highly of him, and the way he presented himself during the 6 months of press was really wonderful; I think he has a deep understanding and love for his role, and he was a genuinely supportive partner to his co-lead during filming. Think golden retriever energy - which is NOT a bad thing, at all!

If there is any truth to the PR stunt being organized by his team (and I’m in no way saying this is fact) as a way to differentiate/disassociate him from Bridgerton/Nicola, then I think this was a miscalculation on their part. We know that Luke did a lot of editorial photoshoots during the promo tour; and looking at the pictures now, it seems like there was definitely a narrative/aesthetic that was trying to be pushed of a more intense, moody and provocative L. Which is also fine! I don’t think he must be one personality or the other; humans are multi-faceted and complex, it’s what makes us so interesting.

The (Ongoing) Fallout

This is really difficult to write about because, honestly, I feel like we’re still witnessing it happening in real time, bit by agonizing bit. What we do know is that at this moment, he hasn’t announced any new projects other than returning for Bridgerton Season 4. He hasn’t announced any major brand deals and we don’t know what his next steps are career-wise. Which is completely baffling to me because I would think he and his team would want to capitalize on the momentum of a very successful season of a Netflix/Shondaland production. However, this is his life and his job, so until he comes forward with literally anything to say (a statement, an announcement, hell, he hasn’t even publicly claimed to have a gf FFS), then everything else is just noise and speculation. As much as I hope he’s not taking another HFBS, I also wouldn’t blame him for wanting to step away from the spotlight. He’s been unfairly dragged and smeared since the Part 2 premiere. Do I think he and his team/friend group have made a some missteps along the way? Yes, but again, no one deserves the nasty comments and vitriol that has been flung his way.

So How Do We Move Forward?

I keep thinking back to the adage: When someone shows you who they are, believe them.*

And isn’t this the root of my (and perhaps others’) struggle? Because it’s been really difficult to reconcile someone Nicola calls “a true gentleman, the kindest friend, a dream costar” with a man who seemingly (?) goes along with pap walks, Instagram subterfuge, and appears to be distancing himself from the very project and costars that helped propel him into the leading man spotlight. For me personally, I go back to my point that people are multi-faceted and deeply complex. I think Luke can be all of those things; I also think he might be struggling right now to figure out who he is and what he wants next after being scrutinized so heavily.

Also from my first post: We have to remember, though, that what we’re shown is only a fraction of their true selves, carefully and deliberately curated to accommodate their status as actors/celebrities/those in the public eye.

I choose to believe that we saw glimpses of the real Luke throughout the press tour. (ColinBridgey is a rockstar and compiled everything into a master list for our enjoyment!) I choose to believe Nicola knows Luke a hell of a lot better than almost everyone else yapping in this conversation. I choose to believe that his anxiety and quietness could be perceived as standoffish, and unfortunately he wasn’t able to shine as much as Nicola during the press tour, but they are a team and have each other’s backs - there is genuine love there, after all. I choose to believe that social media posting and likes are not indicative of the actual friendship and relationship between L and N. I would love to see him post more, or be more vocal in publicly thanking Bridgerton and Nicola - however, I realize those are expectations I have/desire and he does not owe me anything.

I choose to believe that despite the mistakes and missteps, he’s a decent human being who deserves to live his life on his own terms and at his own speed. I really, really hope that whenever he announces his next project, I can be joyful and supportive. There’s a lot of talk about giving him grace, which I agree with. I cannot imagine, nor do I desire to be in the public eye this way; it’s easy for us and others to feel entitled to say things behind our screens and keyboards, but these are real, actual people with lives and feelings.

I do think that it is for the best interest of the fandom to try and ignore A and That Friend Group (and DM) as much as possible. And I will be the first to admit that it is really fucking hard to do so. Like I’ve said before, I try to ignore toxicity and hate, but I am also human and therefore imperfect and capable of pettiness. There is just something about this situation (probably how much Lukola captivated me and how much disdain I have for his friend group) that makes me watch everything play out like it’s a train on fire, careening towards an unfinished bridge, over a ravine. Sometimes I feel bad because I wonder if I’m adding to the entire spectacle with my continued interest. But then I remember that I specifically keep it to this corner of the internet, and I’ve found a nice little community where we can gossip and discuss and dissect it all.

If you’ve made it to the end, thank you. This is just everything I’ve been ruminating over the past month, put into word vomit form. I would looove to hear your thoughts and takes on everything/anything discussed above. Maybe you have a different perspective or noticed something that I missed.

*Fun fact: In my research, I learned that this saying comes from Maya Angelou’s “A Song Flung Up to Heaven” and is actually "Believe people when they tell you who they are. They know themselves better than you.” The more well-known version comes out of an Oprah Winfrey interview with Angelou in 1997, where they were discussing life lessons. Okay, I’ll stop being a nerd now.

#luke newton #nicola coughlan #lukola #bridgerton season 3 #bridgerton #luke newton get your shit together #but also please take care of your mental health #all these thoughts are ever evolving #because every day some new piece of drama occurs #like I've said before #strap in this is gonna be a roller coaster #wheeeeeee 🎢

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writing-intheundercroft · 8 months

Text

when you know, you know

Read on AO3

Word Count: 7,169

Rating: T (just some smooches)

Summary: You and Garreth Weasley aren't on speaking terms, not since you were caught stealing billywig stings for him and subsequently banned from Honeydukes.

But the dawn of your sixth year brings a potion brewing contest, and you might finally have a chance to put him in his place.

A/N: Happy first birthday, Hogwarts Legacy! The HL discord server I'm in came up with the theme of One Year Later, and this is my submission. Thankful for all the lovely people I've met through this fandom, who encourage me to write every day <3

“Welcome to your sixth year of potions,” Professor Sharp says gruffly, leaning against his desk. “I hope you’re all prepared to start exploring the theories of potion composition, and have read the first five chapters of your textbook over the summer holidays as instructed.”

Sebastian groans next to you, flipping open his book. You snort, craning your neck around the room to assess your classmates.

Everett, Sacharissa, Andrew, Nastai, Poppy, and Grace–all of them still have the post-summer slump, faces glum as they wished to be free of the potions dungeon. At the station next to you, Leander looks ready to fall asleep. He was practically using his fingers to keep his eyeballs open during the double potions period.

Next to Leander, you can’t help noticing Garreth Weasley. It's unusual to see him so engaged; Garreth is normally the class clown, always trying to figure out a way to disrupt the lesson. Instead, he’s sitting stick straight, scribbling every word Sharp had to say. His notes were neatly organized, ingredients for the day’s brew already portioned out and chopped.

“What’s gotten into Weasley?” you whisper to Sebastian.

Sebastian scoffs. “Oh, he’s probably trying to get on Sharp’s good side, with the potion making contest coming up.”

“What contest?” You ask, albeit a bit too loud.

“I was just getting to that point,” Sharp says your name; the entire class had turned their attention to the two of you. Even Garreth was staring, despite the iciness between the two of you. It’s been months since you last spoke, exchanging choice words in a shouting match after he’d gotten you banned from Honeydukes. After all, he was the one who’d assured you Mr. Flume wouldn’t be home, and that it wouldn’t be too difficult to steal the billywig stings.

Nevermind that, you think, turning your attention back to Sharp’s lecture.

“Every year, I challenge the sixth year class to create a new potion,” Sharp drawls. “Many of the students who’ve won in the past have gone on to become some of the Hogwarts’s most successful potioneers. The winner of the contest will receive after hours access to the potions classroom, unlimited usage of the ingredient cupboard, and their name included on the plaque in the trophy room.” he explains.

Sharp continues droning on about the rules; you feel Sebastian’s breath tickle your ear “Garreth’s been assuming he’ll win since we were second years,” he whispers. “I’d love to see you put him in his place.”

You swat at the freckled brunette, who lets out another audible chuckle. Scanning the room again, your eyes briefly make contact with Garreth’s. He looks at you with something fierce in his eyes; it’s almost threatening, you think. He also looks a tad bit deflated, but considering the two of you aren’t friends anymore, you don’t really care to know why.

“Sure, I’ll enter.” You say loudly enough for Garreth to hear. “I’m sure it’ll be a clean sweep.”

Garreth’s eyes turn to slits before he refocuses on his notes. His face is turning red as he scribbles on the parchment, and you can’t help feeling a bit satisfied at his reaction. Suits him right, you think, for being such a coward. You’re going to kick his ass and get back for the ten detentions he bought you last year.

Sharp’s NEWT level class is just as painful as you’d imagined it would be. Sacharissa nearly slices her own finger off trying to cut open a sopophorous bean, and Everett faints from the blood. Andrew sends his own bean flying across the room, thwacking Natty in the forehead; it incites a verbal altercation that has the two nearly come to blows before Sharp can separate them. You and Sebastian can’t help but laugh watching them, falling dreadfully behind in your own quest to brew a draught of living death.

“Look at those prats,” Sebastian nudges you.

You look over at the two redheads adjacent to you–they’re working diligently, ignoring the dramatics of the classroom. Garreth is clearly guiding the process, Leander eagerly observing him as he chops and stirs. They’re the only two students in the classroom even remotely close to brewing the potion correctly, and it’s a little surprising to you that Garreth would be so tame.

He tilts his head, copper colored hair falling in front of his eyes. His hair is longer, shaggier than last year. You also can’t ignore how much larger his forearms are, probably from detentions spent lifting the cauldrons to and from the storage room. They’re thick and freckled, a dusting of hair—

Garreth turns his head, glaring at you. You’ve been blatantly staring at him for a whole minute now.

“Oi, get it together, woman.” Sebastian chides, snapping his fingers in front of your eyes. “I don’t think your cauldron is supposed to be purple—“

“Dammit!” You curse, turning back to your own brew. . Sebastian laughs as you thwack him on the shoulder, stirring your potion. It’s no good–the brew has turned the wrong color, and now resembles a fudgy texture.

“So much for winning the competition,” Sebastian teases you. Your face heats up with embarrassment as Sharp walks over to your cauldron, assessing your work.

“Better luck next time, I suppose.” Sharp says gruffly, raising his eyebrows at the thick goop.

As expected, Garreth and Leander win the day’s best brew. It takes twice as long as usual for you to scrub your cauldron, cheeks red from both embarrassment and the extra elbow grease you have to put in. Sebastian, despite his promises to stay as long as he can, has already abandoned you to get to lunch ahead of the rush. At this rate, you’ll miss lunch entirely.

“You should really throw some ashwinder eggshells in there.”

Looking up, you see Garreth standing a few feet away, his hands shoved into his pockets. In lieu of the traditional blazer, he’s gone a bit casual with a crimson and gold Gryffindor sweater. It looks a tad tight on him, and well worn. Likely a hand-me-down from one of his many older brothers, you think.

“Mixed with water, they’re quite abrasive. It’ll help with the cleaning.” Garreth suggests, shrugging his bag onto his shoulder.

“So, we’re talking again.” your tone is flippant; you scrub even harder at the baked in potion caking your cauldron.

Garreth rolls his eyes, dropping his bag to the ground. “Let me help,” he says gruffly, elbowing you out of the way. He takes a handful of ashwinder eggshells, sprinkling it into your cauldron. You peer over the edge as he dribbles water inside.

“Now put on your dragonhide gloves,” Garreth advises. “Don’t want to get burned, do you?”

You do as instructed, slipping the gloves on. Garreth hands you the wire brush again, and this time the sludge slides off the edges of the cauldron with ease.

“See? Not so bad.”

You open your mouth to thank him, but Garreth has stepped away from your station. Bag in hand, he gives you a wary look.

“Earlier, when you were staring,” Garreth trails off.

“I wasn’t staring.” you scoff. In reality, you were , but that’s not the point.

“You were,” Garreth countered. “You weren’t trying any funny mind tricks, were you? I’d heard a rumor that you and Sallow were trying to study legilimency–”

Eyebrow raised, you cross your gloved arms. “Why on earth would I need to read your mind, Weasley?”

“To steal my potion recipe.” Garreth blurted, eyes narrowed. “For the contest. You’re trying to win, I overheard you and Sallow talking about entering.”

You scoff in his face. “Why would I need to steal a recipe from you ?”

Garreth straightened, pushing his copper hair out of his eyes. “Because everyone knows that I,” jerking his thumb towards himself, “am going to win. I’ve been planning my submission since I was a first year, and I’m not about to lose to you.”

Whatever warmth you thought Garreth Weasley was going to give you is long gone. You lean back over your pewter cauldron, scrubbing aggressively.

“I can’t believe you’d think I’d stoop so low, Garreth.” You seeth. “You know what? Just for that, I am going to enter Sharp’s contest now–and I’m going to kick your ass.”

“Like hell you are,” Garreth huffs, leering down at you. You hadn’t noticed just how tall he’d gotten over the summer–

Focus, you remind yourself, eyes flitting away from his form.

“What are you two still doing in my classroom?”

You and Garreth spin around, almost knocking your cauldron over in the process. An exhausted looking Sharp stands in the doorway, his palm on his head.

“Not you two,” he mutters. “I had a feeling the two of you would be battling it out for best brew.”

“We were just comparing notes, sir.” Garreth says easily, backing away from you. “She needed help cleaning her cauldron.”

“Not your best work today,” Sharp reminds you, peering into your now sparkling clean cauldron. “The two of you should be off to lunch, or else you’ll miss the meal.”

“Yes sir,” the two of you chirp in unison. Garreth takes his leave while you’re stowing your cauldron away, and he’s nowhere to be seen once you get to the Great Hall for lunch. You want to fight, defend yourself against his accusations, but it doesn’t look like he’ll give you the chance.

His loss , you think, meandering over to your house table.

The first month of classes has been hell. While you’d pictured your sixth year to be quite leisurely with the extra free periods, you’ve spent every study hall cooped up in the library, buried in your books. Despite passing last term with flying colors, it feels like you’re going to spend your entire life catching up to your classmates. You might be the hero of Hogwarts, but you still feel stupid in History of Magic, stumbling over your words.

You’re cursing to yourself as you run through the streets of Hogsmeade, trying to make it to J Pippin’s before closing. Sharp’s potions contest has fallen to the bottom of your priorities, but the events of lunch earlier in the day have pushed you to work on your submission. You’d been sitting at the table with Sebastian and Ominis, lamenting over your shared arithmancy assignment when Garreth and Leander walked into the Great Hall, loud cheers and whoops coming from the Gryffindor table. They were sopping wet, hair windswept, having just tested Garreth’s potion submission.

“No one will be able to beat him,” Leander had declared loudly, rustling Garreth’s long red hair. Garreth was grinning broadly, a gaggle of fifth year girls surrounding him in awe. That alone was irksome; as if they really knew Garreth Weasley.

“Since when did Garreth Weasley become the hottest commodity?” Ominis asked, tilting his chin in his palm.

Sebastian took a sip of his pumpkin juice, snorting. “Probably because he grew five inches over the holidays,” he joked. “Lost the pudge too.”

“Sebastian,” you warned, flicking him in the head. “Don’t be so cruel.”

Sebastian rolled his eyes, shrugging. “It’s true,” he argued. “Anyways, I can’t wait to watch you put him in his place during the potions competition. Do you have your brew ready?”

“Of course I do,” You lied, turning back to your parchment. “Don’t be silly.”

In actuality, you didn’t have your brew ready whatsoever–you’d spent the last month tinkering with several recipes, but nothing seemed good enough for submission. With potions due tomorrow, you’ll have to spend the rest of your day working on the brew. The rest of your classes for the day go unattended, spending the afternoon cooped up in the Room of Requirement to draft a recipe. Nothing seems to be working, and you’re out of focus potions. You could brew them up yourself, but perhaps some fresh air and a walk will do you good–therein, a trip to J Pippin’s was necessary.

The bell rings as you push the door in, Parry Pippin smiling at you from the register. You entertain his small talk, questions about your summer holidays, all while anxiously checking your pocket watch for the time. You still had your arithmancy homework, as well as a four foot scroll due in Transfiguration next week to work on–

“You haven’t run into Mr. Weasley, have you?”

Snapping out of your thoughts, you look up at Parry. “No, I haven’t.” you say sharply, taking the carefully wrapped package full of focus potions that he’s packed into your arms. “Why would I?”

Pippin clicks his tongue. “I’m fresh out of the stench of the dead, that’s all. Mr. Weasley was trying to purchase some more for his potions project. Nasty business, procurement. It’s hard to find a supplier that’ll face up to the inferi in the first place.” The register opens, and he begins counting your change. “I recommended he reach out to you for assistance.”

You blink at the shopkeeper. “Me?”

“Well of course,” Pippin snorts. “You’re rather fearless, aren’t you? Not that it matters, of course, he was quite put off by the suggestion. Asked me where he could find them, and I pointed out an old abandoned treasure cave a few miles north, up in the valley. Can always find them lurking around there.”

“I’m sorry , you directed a student to an inferi den?” You gape.

Pippin looks at you, eyebrows raised. “Don’t they teach you how to fight them and what not? Isn’t that what Defense Against the Dark Arts is for? Anywho, Mr. Weasley seemed rather confident in his abilities. Think he was a bit embarrassed that I recommended he ask a girl for help.”

You block out whatever Pippin is saying, tucking the package under your arm as you leave the shop. While it’s not your responsibility to look after Garreth (considering recent events and his rather frosty attitude towards you) you can’t help feeling a bit worried. Most students don’t have much experience with the undead; you only have a basic grasp on battling them due to Sebastian’s shenanigans the year prior. Inferi are tough, even for most grown adults to deal with; any wound inflicted by one can render even the strongest wizard ill.

The sun is beginning to set, and while you know you should head straight back to the Room of Requirement to work on your contest brew, you turn towards the path north. You’re certain you’ve visited the treasure den Pippin is talking about before, and it won’t hurt to check. If the clearing is empty, you’ve just gotten extra exercise for the day. If not–well, you don’t want to think about that quite yet.

You’ve forgotten how long the trek to the Hogsmeade Valley is, feet aching as you stumble over the rocky terrain. You bet that even if Garreth has gone to hunt the inferi, he’s likely given up by now, gone back to the castle already. You doubt Garreth wants to battle the inferi–he’s always had a distaste for dueling, preferring to watch everyone battle it out during Crossed Wands rather than participate.

You swallow thickly, trying to push the image of Garreth fighting the undead out of your mind. Despite your anger towards him, you really don’t want him to go up against something he’s not ready for just to win a stupid class contest.

The sky is dark by the time you round out the hill. From a distance, you can see the wooden arch to the old treasure den, and to your relief, nothing is disturbed. You’re about to turn on your heel to go back to the floo Upper Hogsfield when you sniff the familiar putrid stench of inferi. Your blood runs cold when you hear a familiar groan, and then anxious yelps.

“ Diffindo ! Ah, shit!”

You drop your parcel in the long grass, disappearing into a blue wisp as you close the distance between yourself and the voice. Of course, it’s Garreth, looking panicked and battered as he tries to slice through the inferi. They’re not fast, but his leg is bleeding, and he doesn’t know that severing charm will do no damage to the undead.

“Garreth!” you yell, sliding through the rocks towards him.

Garreth’s eyes widen, crying out your name. Despite his injury, he’s holding his arm out as if to shield you. That bloody Gryffindor bravery, you think, swatting his arm away.

“Get back,” Garreth yells. “Get to Upper Hogsfield, I can hold them off–”

“Get out of the way, you idiot,” you shriek, waving your wand towards him. Depulso might be a bit extreme, but all you can think about is getting the wounded boy out of the way. As soon as you hear Garreth yelp, landing on the soft grass, you turn your attention back to the inferi, who are closing in.

“Confringo!” you pant, unleashing fiery flames from the tip of your wand towards them. The heat of the fire has them shrieking and turning away. Several of them disintegrate, leaving behind the precious bounty Garreth had sought them out for in the first place.

It’s quiet, except for your heavy breathing and the screeches of inferi, all turning into piles of ash as you defeat them. Once you’re sure the last one has been slaughtered, you turn back to Garreth, a few feet away in the grass. He’s staring at you, dumbfounded, as he clutches the gash on his leg. He’s looking rather pale, the blood seeping from his cut a strange dark color.

“Garreth,” you breathe, falling to your knees next to him.

“It must be infected,” he says slowly. “From the inferi.”

There’s no time to waste. You dig through your hip pouch, pulling out one of your spare wiggenwelds. Garreth will surely need a blood renewing potion and some more itensive healing potions when you get back to Hogwarts, but this will do for now. Pulling out the stopper, you push the vial into his hands.

“I can’t believe Pippin would direct you to an inferi den,” you snarl, tearing a piece of your cloak to make a makeshift bandage. Garreth is quietly sipping on the wiggenweld, trying not to look at the damage. “I have half a mind to report him to your aunt–”

“Don’t,” Garreth begs. “Please, don’t. It’s embarrassing enough.”

“Garreth, you could’ve been killed.” You argue.

“It’s my own fault.” he says miserably. “Fire is what destroys inferi. I can’t believe I fucking forgot.”

You give him a wry look. “Well, potions is your better subject.” you joke.

Garreth ignores your quip, downing the rest of the healing potion. “You came up to find me.” he points out, pushing the empty vial back into your hands. “Why?”

You shrug. “Pippin told me you didn’t want my help, and I assumed you’d go off trying to get the ingredients for yourself. You shouldn’t go up against them alone, Garreth.”

“You fought them alone,” Garreth points out. “You could handle them.”

“Well, either I fought them, or else you’d be turning into an inferi yourself right now.”

“Probably best to not waste my good looks on being a zombie.” Garreth jokes. Taking note of your stern face and unwillingness to laugh, he winces. “Should we get back to school now? Perhaps we can make it to Upper Hogsfield; take the floo from there. But make sure to get some of that stench of the dead before we leave.”

Garreth carefully supervises you as you scoop up the murky essence into your vials; he eyes you as you tuck them in your bag. Garreth tries to get up on his own, groaning as he balances on his good leg, swatting away your helping hand.

“Let me help you, you twat.” you urge him, slinging his arm around your shoulder. It doesn’t do much–he really has grown, and you need to stand on your tiptoes to even support him.

The two of you stumble through the grass and you pass your sad little package on the way down. Oh well, you think. Your potion is the least of your worries, considering Garreth is still dripping blood next to you. Despite his protestations that he’s doing fine, you know from the way he’s clutching your shoulder that he’s not.

“You’re not going to take me to the hospital wing, are you?” Garreth groans as you support him to the flickering green flame outside of Upper Hogsfield. “If you take me there, Blainey will tell Aunt Tilly, and I’m not sure I’m ready for that lecture yet.”

“I have somewhere else you can go.” you offer, biting down on your lower lip. You’ve never invited anyone into the Room of Requirement before–Professor Weasley strictly forbade you from sharing the room, and you’ve kept it a secret from Sebastian, Ominis, and Natty for almost a year now. But you’re sure you can’t get into too much trouble, especially if you’re healing another student.

“Do you trust me?” You ask Garreth, slipping your arm around his.

The redhead looks down at you, perhaps a bit skeptical. “I trust you.”

“Good. Not like you have a choice anyways,” You remind him, turning back towards the flame.

“Okay, now this is truly unfair,” Garreth complains, splayed across your settee. “Aunt Tilly is officially my least favorite family member.”

You snort as you sprinkle mallowsweet into your bubbling cauldron. “Because she didn’t show you the Room of Requirement?”

“Yes,” Garreth barks. “You’re telling me I’ve been sneaking into Sharp’s office after hours just to trial potions, meanwhile there’s a perfectly good potions lab in the astronomy tower? Rubbish,” he mutters. He picks at the piece of your cloak that you’ve tied around his thigh; it’s still bloody, and he looks peakish.

“The blood renewing potion is nearly done,” You assure him, walking away from the cauldron to assess his wound again. “Why do you need the stench of the dead so badly?” you ask, wrinkling your nose as you take off the bloody fabric. “Is it for your potion contest submission?”

Garreth swallows thickly. “Yes,” his voice is careful, trying not to give anything away. He inhales sharply once the fabric has come off; his wound, despite the wiggenweld, still looks worse for wear.

“Oh, come off it,” you roll your eyes, waving your wand to summon a fresh roll of linen. “Just tell me what it is. I guarantee you’re going to win anyways.”

Garreth gives you a funny look before bowling his shoulders over, letting out a loud sigh. “I’ve created a bottled tornado,” he admits, wincing as you bandage him up. “Bit of a play on the thunderbrew; you take the potion before entering battle, and you have full control of a windstorm against your enemies.”

“Is that why your hair was so fucked at lunch?” you muse.

Garreth rolls his eyes. “It looked good, okay?”

The two of you glare into each other’s eyes for the first time in quite a while; after a terse twenty seconds, both of you burst into laughter.

“Was it that bad?” Garreth wheezes.

You laugh, visibly shuddering. “Not that bad, actually. Those fifth years rather enjoyed it.”

Garreth rolls his eyes. “The most attention I’ve received from any of those girls, ever. Leander has been trying to talk me up to them, find us a double date.”

You’re quiet for a moment, stomach twisting with unfamiliar anxiety at the idea of Garreth and Leander sharing butter beers with those girls. Not that you care, really, but you miss hanging out around the Three Broomsticks every Saturday with Garreth. He’d been one of your closest friends until the incident at Honeydukes, and then nothing .

“Is that why you want to win the contest so badly?” You blurt. “For notoriety? Or just attention from the girls?” You joke.

Garreth shakes his head, shaking out his ginger mane like a lion. Sometimes, you think it’s too fitting that he’s a Gryffindor. “Nah, not for that.”

“What for, then?”

Garreth chews on his lower lip. “Have I ever told you about my family?”

“Uh, no. Just that there’s a lot of them.” You admit, resting your palms on your knees.

“I’m one of seven siblings.” Garreth says, head falling back against a pillow. “There’s Arthur, Benedict, Cornelia, Deirdre, Edwin, Frederick, and myself.” he counts out his siblings on his thick fingers.

“Alphabetical order?” you asked, slightly amused.

Garreth rolled his eyes. “Unfortunately, yes.” Your eyes flit down to his torso; the hem of his shirt has risen, exposing a freckled stomach. You think back to what Sebastian had said–how Garreth had lost his baby fat over the summer, his once soft stomach turning muscled and strong. You try not to linger on the thatch of red hair trailing down to his waist.

“Artie, Deirdre, and Freddie played Quidditch for the house team. Cornelia and Edwin were both prefects, and Benedict was head boy.” Garreth explains.

“A successful bunch,” you offer.

“Successful besides me.” Garreth grumbled. “Mum wouldn’t let me hear the end of it when I didn’t get prefect our fifth year. I’ve always been middling at Quidditch too, so no hopes for the house team.” he says moodily. “Just plain, untalented Garreth. The only thing I'm even remotely good at is brewing a potion, so I've been hoping to win ever since I was a first year. All my siblings tried, but none have won. Thought I might get my own name out there, instead of just being the youngest Weasley.” His eyes are glued to the ceiling, but you can tell from the furrow in his brow and hardened jaw that he's frustrated.

You tilt your head, giving him a disapproving look. “I think you’re talented, Garreth.”

“I think you’re talented too,” Garreth points out. “Which is why you’re probably going to win the potion making contest. Sharp hates me, after all.”

“I think you have a fair shot,” you argue. “You’ve spent all summer working on your potions.”

“Yes, but you’re you.” Garreth fights back. “You’ve had magic for what, a year? And you’re the most powerful witch I know.”

“It’s not that easy,” you mumbled under your breath, smoothing down the front of your trousers as you stand. You step back over to the station; the blood renewing potion has finished, a thick purple sludge that leaves a metallic smell in its wake. You pull out a clean vial, trying to ladle the necessary amount.

“Everything seems to come easy to you.” Garreth pointed out. “You defeated a troll, took town the goblin rebellion–”

“At what cost, Garreth?” you shout, closing your hand into a tight fist. “Ow!”

Garreth shoots up, propping up on his hands to peer over at you. You open your hand, shaking it out–you’ve shattered the vial. Cursing under your breath, you walk over the wash basin, muttering a quick charm to get the tiny shards of glass out of your hand.

“Let me help,” Garreth pleads, hobbling over towards you.

“Get back on the couch, Gar.” You seethe, pointing across the room.

Garreth puts his hands up, still shuffling your way. You wag your hand; it’s still stinging, but it’s just a surface wound. A wiggenweld and a bandage will do just fine.

“Let me,” Garreth says quietly, his tone soft towards you for the first time in ages. “It’s my fault, after all.”

“It’s not your fault,” You sigh. “It’s me, being stupid.”

“You’re not stupid. You’re the furthest thing from stupid.” Garreth assures you. “I meant to say that it was my fault you got caught last year.”

You pause. Is he really apologizing now?

Garreth takes the roll of linen, wrapping it around your palm. “You were looking for the billywig stings for me,” he says, tearing the linen with his teeth. He sets down the roll, tying a knot around the bandage in your palm. “I’m the reason you got caught, and you covered for me. Flume could’ve called the aurors for burglary, and I let you take the fall.”

All you’ve wanted for the past six months is for Garreth to own up to his part in you getting all those detentions and losing fifty house points. You feel a little satisfied, but at the same time sad–you could’ve been friends all this time, instead of strangers. Losing him made the other Gryffindors go icy against you, and it drove you further into Sebastian’s arms. While you love your other freckled friend to death, you can’t help but wonder what trouble you could’ve avoided had you not felt so isolated.

The thought overwhelms you, and you burst into a loud sob.

“What’s wrong?” Garreth panics.

You wipe a tear from your eyes. “It’s nothing, it’s nothing at all.” you blubber.

“It’s clearly not,” Garreth says gently.

“It’s just we’ve been avoiding each other for months,” you take in a shaky breath. “And I’ve missed being your friend.”

Garreth lets out a loud sigh, his hand trailing down to touch your forearm. It’s hard not to melt into his warm touch.

“I’m sorry,” he admits. “I was being stubborn. I should’ve apologized ages ago, I’ve missed you too. I was just so intimidated by you, I forgot how to be your friend.”

“Intimidated, by me?” You gape.

Garreth gives you a look, raising his thick eyebrows. “You’re the Hero of Hogwarts,” he waves his free hand. “You only just discovered magic a year ago, and yet you’re at the top of the class. You’re the best duelist I know; you bloody saved my life tonight.”

“I’m not a hero,” your voice falters. You’re not. Garreth would be horrified to know what you’ve done–dabbled in dark magic, taken life (even if not by choice).

“You’re a hero to me,” Garreth murmurs.

You look into his deep green eyes. They’re warm and honest; the Garreth you’ve gotten used to has a cold stare, eyes flitting away from yours as fast as possible. This Garreth makes your stomach flip, but not in an uncomfortable way. He’d always elicited that reaction from you, from the day you’d met. Garreth had always been cheerful and cuddly, an arm always tossed around your shoulder as you sat together or fiddling with the hem of your robe. It had gotten to the point where you might actually believe the rumors that he'd had a crush on you, considering the way his hugs lingered or the way his eyes caught you across the classroom.

For a second, you wonder if he ever actually did have a crush on you. You also wonder if he still might.

“You should take the potion,” you change the subject, shaking off his grasp.

Garreth obediently sits back down on the settee while you scoop the thick potion into a clean vial. He looks up at you with a smile as you settle down next to him, as if his leg still isn’t shaking and bloody.

“Bottoms up,” you press the vial into his hand.

Garreth takes the blood renewing potion, shuddering as the thick sludge passes through his throat. He shakes out his hair, setting the empty vessel down on the side table.

“How do you feel?”

“Feeling better already,” Garreth assures you, and you know he’s telling the truth. His cheeks are reddening, the color flooding back into his face. You look down at the gauze wrapped around his leg; thanks to the potion, the other healing potions you’d forced him to take are now kicking in.

“You’re brilliant, you know?” Garreth murmurs. “You’re beautiful, brilliant, and so damn brave. That’s why you’ll win Sharp’s contest.”

“Will you stop saying that?” You snip at him.

Garreth gives you an incredulous look. “It’s a compliment.”

“You don’t realize how much work it is,” you say, fidgeting with your hands in your lap. “To catch up to all of you. Having this magic, not being able to control it–it doesn’t make any of the day to day any easier. It seems like there’s always something I have to learn, things I should know by now that I don’t. I feel like a fraud most of the time.” you admit, tears welling in your eyes.

“Hey, none of that,” Garreth tuts, wiping at your face. “You’re no fraud. You, my dear, are the real deal. I’m the one bumbling around, getting scratched up by inferi–”

You shut your eyes, clutching at the hand he’s resting on your face. “I won’t let you talk about yourself like that,” you argue. The thought of Garreth, one of the most clever wizards you know, feeling inferior to his siblings is still fresh in your mind. “You’re marvelous, Garreth. You’re one of the best potioneers here at school, and you’re going to win.”

“But what about your submission?” His eyebrows are knitted together in confusion.

You shrug. “You need it more than I do–I already have my own space here, and you deserve the recognition.”

Garreth purses his lips together. “I can’t finish mine, unfortunately. Not without the ingredients–”

“Trust me, we have plenty now.” You assure him. “I probably have the rest of what you need here,” you say, scrambling to your feet. You rush back over to the potions stand, conjuring a clean cauldron. “I’m assuming you’re using the same base as a thunderbrew–”

Garreth is over to the potions station in three quick strides, closing the distance between you. He grabs your wrist, but his touch is soft.

“You’ll really help me?” he asks, his voice hopeful. “Even if I’ve been an absolute prat towards you for the last six months–”

“I think if last year proves anything, I’d do anything for you, Garreth.” You want to look into his eyes, but the moment feels too charged. "You were one of my first friends here, and I care about you."

Garreth’s eyes flit down to your lips. “As a friend?” The question hangs heavy between the two of you.

You shake your head. “Yes...but also, no. Not just as a friend.” you say slowly, hoping he'll understand.

Garreth doesn’t release his grip; his fingers move down, tangling with yours. He takes a step closer and you can feel his hot breath on your cheek. You look up at him, opening your mouth to say anything , but you don’t get the chance. Garreth’s lips crash against yours in a tender kiss, the pad of his thumb running over the back of your hand. You tilt your head up a bit too eagerly, your teeth clacking against his.

Garreth pulls away, and you’re momentarily mortified until he descends back upon you, this time wrapping his arms around your waist tugging you close. Your hands are in his hair, grasping at the copper locks you’ve spent the last six months eyeing. It’s just as soft as you thought it would be. Sighing into his touch, you can tell the freckled boy is smiling against your mouth from the curve of his chin. His tongue glides against your bottom lip and you grant him access, warmth pooling in the pit of your stomach as the kiss deepens. You want more, even if you're being greedy. You don’t want any distance between the two of you whatsoever anymore.

Garreth pulls away and you whine at the loss of him. He presses his forehead against yours, looking quite bashful. The look in his eyes says everything you need to know for now.

I’m sorry.

I’ve missed you.

I have feelings for you.

“Should we get to brewing?” you ask breathlessly, gesturing down to the empty cauldron.

“Let’s. I want to get it out of the way–I think the two of us have some more catching up to do.” Garreth teases, his hands hovering over your waist.

You grin, turning your attention down to the cauldron. Garreth’s warm body encases yours from behind, listing off all the ingredients and their exact ratios. His chin lands against your shoulder, breath tickling your ear as he whispers the instructions. It's only after he presses his lips against the nape of your neck that you slam the chopping knife down, hands shaking.

“If you keep this up, we’ll never finish.” You warn him.

Garreth’s chuckle sends a shiver up your spine. “Fine, fine.” he sighs, pressing a kiss against your cheek as he steps away. “I’ll observe some personal space for now, but the moment we’re done…” his voice trails off. “I’d like to kiss you again.”

You swat at him, rolling your eyes as he starts chopping mandrake leaves. The air in the Room of Requirement feels thick, charged with the tension between the two of you as you take turns stirring the altered thunderbrew. Before long, the cauldron is emitting sparks of lightning and gusts of wind, indicating your success.

“Back to catching up?” Garreth asks, chewing on his bottom lip as he bottles the brew. As soon as the potion is stowed away safely, you nod, and the redhead wastes no time taking you back to the settee.

You never did manage to have the time to come up with your own potion. Garreth had insisted on working through the night to help you come up with your own submission, just so he could win fair and square, but you'd shrugged him off. You'd only entertained the idea of entering to compete with him in the first place. Besides, you would rather save the precious time in the Room of Requirement for other activities.

Professor Sharp had just announced the winner of the potion brewing contest before the bell rang. In a tired, yet unsurprised tone, Sharp announces that Garreth has won by a landslide. The class is roaring and chanting for him; Sharp is perturbed that he’ll have to grant the budding potioneer access to his classroom and store cabinet after hours. Nevertheless, Garreth’s name is quickly etched into a little silver tag that will be added to the plaque in the trophy room, and class is dismissed.

“I can’t believe you bungled up your potion.” Sebastian shakes his head, slipping the strap of his bag over his shoulder.

You shrug, clutching your books against your chest. “Just wasn’t meant to be.”

“I was really hoping you’d put Weasley in his place,” Sebastian mumbles.

You turn your head over your shoulder, eyes immediately locking with Garreth’s. He’s standing over his cauldron, sprinkling ashwinder egg shells into the vessel as he smiles at you. His cheeks are a bit flushed–you’re not sure if it's from the heat of the cauldron, or from the memory of the kisses you’d shared in the Room of Requirement after finishing his contest submission.

“I wouldn’t worry too much, Seb.” You assure him. “I think I’ll be putting him in his place much more often now.”

Sebastian doesn’t catch on to your innuendo, shrugging as you pass through the door. “Fancy meeting Ominis for lunch?”

“I’m fine,” you lie. “I”ll catch you both later. I think I left my quill behind.”

Once Sebastian is past the corner and out of view, you turn back around, slipping into the potions classroom. You were hoping for a moment alone with Garreth, but Leander’s whinging cuts the silence.

“The two of you couldn’t stop staring at each other all period,” Leander shakes his head. “What’s going on?”

Casting a quick disillusionment charm, you slip into the store room, leaving the wooden door slightly ajar to watch the boys interact.

“Don’t worry about it, Lee.” Garreth assures him, waving his wand to rinse out his cauldron.

“Are the two of you friends again?” Leander asks. “Sallow must be pissed.”

You shuffle forward, trying to get a better look at the two of them.

“He’ll get over it,” Garreth laughs, picking up his cauldron to stack it against the rest. His shirt is rolled up above his elbows, and you bite down on your lower lip as you watch the muscles in his forearms flex.

“I knew you’d win,” Leander snorts. “You’re the best in class, everyone knows it. You deserved it. But honestly, I’m surprised she didn’t even enter.”

“I know,” Garreth shrugs. “But she’s smart too. Quick as a whip, hell of a duelist. I don’t think we ever thank her enough for what she’s done.”

Leander scoffs. “Why are you kissing her arse? Oh no, don’t tell me you have a crush on her again.” he complains, rolling his eyes.

Garreth chuckles, walking back over to the station to pick up his book bag. “Crush on her? Mate, I’m going to marry that girl someday.”

Your heart stops for a moment, cheeks aflame. Garreth had confessed his feelings to you in the Room of Requirement, after the two of you had to drag yourselves apart at the risk of taking things too far. Now that you were back in his life, he assured you that there was little chance of him ever letting you get too far away again. You’d agreed wholeheartedly then, but your mind hadn’t even gotten to the idea of life post-school.

Marriage . Marriage to Garreth Weasley. The thought of it is comfortable, like a worn in sweater or a cup of tea. You can imagine waking up every morning to his lips pressed against your neck, encased in his warm embrace.

Yes, you might like that.

Even though you have a disillusionment charm on, you swear Garreth is looking straight at you through the crack in the doorway. He has a dreamy, faraway look on his face, one that makes you want to barrel out the door and tackle him to the ground right now.

“Now you really sound like you’ve been confunded,” Leander laughs. “You’re sixteen, Gar.”

“It’s more than that.” Garreth says fondly. “I know it is.”

“Whatever you say,” Leander snorts, heading towards the door. “Coming to lunch?”

“I’ll meet you there,” Garreth echoes.

You hear Leander grumbling to himself, his footsteps becoming quieter as he gets further away from the classroom. Finally, you hear nothing at all except the familiar hum of the boisterous Gryffindor boy you’ve been itching to spend time with all day.

The door flies open and Garreth reaches out, tapping your shoulder. It disarms your disillusionment charm, and you blink up at him in shock. He’s still beaming, a toothy grin accompanied by freckled rosy cheeks. Before you know it, the door is shutting behind you, and he’s backed you into the shelf. The taller boy has you pinned against it, muttering a quick locking charm before he slips his wand into his back pocket.

“I hope you heard me,” Garreth murmurs, brushing hair out of your face.

“I did,” you stammer. “You’re mad, Garreth Weasley.”

Garreth grins broadly, his hair falling against your forehead as he presses his body into yours.

“Maybe,” he sings. “But you heard me. When you know, you know.”

You have no complaints. With Garreth wrapped around you, sixth year might not be so daunting.

#garreth weasley #garreth weasley x reader #garreth weasley x you #garreth weasley x mc #writing-intheundercroft #you can't tell me garreth isn't the dream boyfriend #i don't write enough for him WAHHHH

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tekumaniac311 · 2 months

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Open Arms: Suspension

It was a regular day it seems the following morning, breakfast, training and chilling out. Looks like it was one of those days nothing bad would happen, until the notification that Mr Ludwig the director of the entire Space Rider organization has requested to speak with Dogbite personally. Dogbite of course not one to laze about, settled in the meeting room and laid back on his chair as the hologram of Mr Ludwig himself appeared.

"Director! How can I be of service?" Dogbite asked curious with a smile "Dogbite, last night i had gotten a report of your recent behaviour." Dogbite paused at the Director's answer "Explain?" He asked. With that, Mr Ludwig started to explain: "According to this report, you for the past few months have been showing signs of aggression, recklessness, gatekeeping and egocentricity. Care to explain?"

Dogbite paused but stayed firm "Hey, Mr Ludwig it's all just healthy competition between me my brother's team, after all I just think that we're better than them in taking out the Prototype before they do." Ludwig was not impressed "Competition? Dominance? Healthy? I don't think so." Dogbite, still being brave stood up "I'm just eager to best him and take out the Prototype first at the same time."

Ludwig just shook his head "No, that's not what i formed this organisation for. The report also details other events of aggression and gatekeeping that i do not tolerate. The conclusion is: You have lost sight of the big picture." Dogbite blinked "But sir, I--"

"Do not interrupt me, Dogbite." Mr Ludwig scolded "I also have reports on you claiming that our rouge Rider, Z is not a real rider and should be detained?" "Well yeah, he didn't enter the academy nor show his face to us" Ludwig once again sighed at Dogbite's comment "Be it as it may, Z is still the sole survivor of Borealis and had been a Rider for the past 10 years with a clean record, so in other words your attitude regarding Z is nothing but intolerant."

"But sir! He..just.." Before Dogbite could utter any more, Ludwig spoke again "I have had my suspicions in the past, yes. But his actions have made him a legitimate Rider in my books, so therefore Dogbite you have no right in attempting to demonize Z. We are the only things standing between the Prototype and his dream of total universal conquest and you think it's all a game?"

"Well of course, all life's a game." Dogbite barked. "I'm sorry Dogbite, but I cannot tolerate this kind of behaviour any longer: I am putting you on suspension, for a period of 1 month." Dogbite's heart dropped into the pit of his stomach "WHAT??!! You can't do this to me, I'm the captain!" Dogbite argued, but Mr Ludwig put it straight "And I'm the Director, therefore I outrank you. I am sorry, Dogbite but as stated before this behavior i can no longer tolerate, 1 month of time to yourself should be enough for you to realize this reckless behavior and competitiveness MUST stop."

"But..Captain, this isn't fair." Mr Ludwig cut Dogbite off again "Neither is not being allowed to go on a date with another rider, not being allowed to help another rider from another team with her inventions, neither is creating divides between your team and another and neither is claiming our anonymous Rider Z, the sole survivor of Borealis i add, to be a fake rider and a so called "menace"." Dogbite was silent, he had nothing to say to Mr Ludwig, his team had told the Rider director EVERYTHING, and now he would suffer the consequences.

"Dogbite, do not take it the wrong way, you are a formidable fighter and a competent leader. But as stated you have lost sight of the big picture, we are at war with the Prototype and we are all united to stop it, putting aside rivalries and differences for the greater good. I do not see any Rider crew as 'better' than the other, they are all equal to me. The defeat of the Prototype is NOT a race nor competition, it is a shared goal between every single team in this organisation. You may think your team is a rival to your brothers, but in reality: You are both on the same side and should work together."

Dogbite remained quiet and was a blank after Mr Ludwig had finished talking, the human then looked at the dog with a gentle glare "I have seen too many Rider captains fall to their pride, ego or greed, desperation for glory each of those captains had the same fate: Death. Please, Dogbite, do not follow in that path." With those final words, Mr Ludwig cut the hologram, Dogbite then looked to his left to see his entire crew watching.

Dogbite pointed his finger at Drago, quivering and visibly upset "You...you sent that report..! Why..??" Drago sighed and looked at his captain, it was clear Dogbite felt crushed and betrayed by his own crew. "It's for your own good, Captain. As Ludwig said you've forgotten we're all on the same side, and this competition has to stop."

Lean Lemur also looked up at Dogbite "We still respect you, captain. But we can't lie that you've gone over the edge, you gotta cool off and take time to rethink things." Prettybird also glared "And Ludwig is right, alienating, preventing socializing with Dogday's crew just because of your rivalry really isn't fair." Mama put her hand on Dogbite's shoulder "A full month to yourself is enough for you to rethink things, you need it captain."

Dogbite, unable to say a word just looks down at the ground "I'll just be on my way...Drago, your stepping in as leader, I'll see you all in a month..." With that he sadly leaves his team and begins packing up, after doing so he donned his helmet and took a space cycle. He decided to head for the planet Eden. He began to think

"This can't stand..now Dogday's gonna be ahead of me! But..no, no, their all wrong, I need to show them that I can be better than him!" He thought to himself, but thinking would have to wait as he flew to Eden for his suspension.

TO BE CONTINUED

space rider au by @onyxonline

#space riders au #smiling critters oc #poppy playtime #smiling critters #smiling critters au #space riders au oc #poppys playtime oc #dogday #kickinchicken #hoppy hopscotch #ludwig

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anzulvr · 5 months

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୨୧ On Purpose Karma x (fem) Reader || Chapter: 04 ୨୧

Prev || 04 Oblivious || Next

— Since the entire student council was present and the library was notably crowded with students who had signed up for the lecture, [Name] entered the library on her own.

She felt guilty, having to ditch her plans with Karma after an unresolved argument they decided to brush over. To make matters worse, she has to sit through a two-hour session and watch Ren shamelessly flirt with every girl in the room. On the brighter side, this ordeal counted towards her volunteer hours.

"You're late. You missed my introductory speech."

"My fault, I'll make up for it by working extra hard!"

She mentally thanked Karma for convincing her take the longer route, saying, "It's not a big deal if you're 10 minutes late... or 30." It was impressive how Gakushuu's speeches managed to put her to sleep every time, missing it was a win in her book.

Koyama called him over, something about a broken printer and an angry librarian.

...aaand she was all alone again. [Name] decided to go check on the group at the back table.

"Oh, [Name] made it—she can help us!" The first year, Chisa blissfully smiled.

"But I wanted Asano to help. [Name] could you please ask him to?" Chisa's friend insisted, clearly not as enthusiastic about the anyone-whose-not- Asano's arrival.

[Name] tried not to let it bother her, being the only girl in the student council came with a lot of pressure.

She’s just as helpful and capable as the rest of the group but no one seems to acknowledge it. Everyone calls them the “Big Five” even though there’s technically six of them as her scores tie with Seo.

"He's busy with Koyama, but maybe later."

The girl groaned and sulked laying her head on the table. Chisa looked apologetic for her friends dramatics. [Name] offered them a polite smile and said, "Let's get through your assignments then."

After half an hour of helping the girls turn in missing work, [Name] decided to take a short break. She left for an empty table in the very corner of the room, the short break turned into a long one when she got distracted texting Karma.

‧₊˚ Message Log ‧₊˚

[Name]: can we talk? im super bored!!

Karma: Whose fault is that?

Karma: should have ditched to be with me the whooleee day

[Name]: ugghhh don't. Can you believe I still have another hour of this

[Name]: anyway what are you doing?

Karma: I bumped into Nagisa on my way back from the library

Karma: now were at Maehara's house with Rio and Fuwa.

[Name]: Rio?? That one beautiful, smart, sweet, blonde girl in your class?

Karma: Sounds like you like her alot.

[Name]: She makes me nervous

Karma: Hey that's how you used to talk about me before we went out

[Name]: I can hear the disappointment through the text lmaoo

‧₊˚ Message End ‧₊˚

"You haven't even been here for an hour and you’re already slacking off on your phone?"

"Gakushuu! Geez you came out of nowhere." [Name] shut her phone off and patted the seat next to her.

To her surprise he slumped down next to her instead of insulting her and walking off, like he usually does.

"Are you feeling alright?"

"I'm exhausted to say the least. This was a stupid idea no one is making progress, well no one but Ren, he managed to pick up quite a few desperate ones today."

"That's not completely true, I helped Chisa and her friend turn their C's to A's. As much as I hate being here it's not useless. Useless was the Bakesale we tried last year where the cupcakes we sold tasted like horse crap. It was funny watching people pretend to love them and hold back the throw up because they came from you."

"Could of stopped at the first half, but thanks, I think. My father said I wasn't being organized enough, that this would be a failure on my half and an embarrassment on his."

"That's a little harsh, you're doing your best and you've done more than anyone else in the council. Ren's been giving out his number more than he's been lecturing, Seo has been in the bathroom for 20 minutes, Teppei has been stuck on the same group this entire time and to be honest Koyama is hard to look at. Im pretty sure I saw the girl he was teaching closing her eyes while he was talking."

The corners of his mouth twitched upwards.

"You're right I'll go yell at them in a few. It's not a big deal though, My father has said much worse."

"To be fair, I haven't exactly kept my promise either. Hard work turned into hiding in a corner to text my b- actually I should get back to work, actions speak louder than words!" [Name] stood up to leave. Asano grabbed her sleeve, it was impulsive and the immediateness of it made it all the more awkward."

"Uh, Asano? Is there something you still need?" She crinkled her eyebrows.

His cheeks became somewhat pink, [Name] thought he couldn’t have been blushing, maybe it was allergies.

“No, just don't get distracted on your phone again."

"Yeah Ive got it!" She waved him off and went back to work,

Gakushuu sat there slightly conflicted with his thoughts and his feelings, He faulted the all nighter he pulled last night, sleep deprivation does negatively impact mind clarity. He decided he should get back to work too.

Meanwhile ☆ ༄

"Let me get this straight, instead of asking me like normal people the class collectively decided to stalk [Name] and I?"

"Pretty much... but I was against it the entire time!" Nagisa replied sheepishly, to his surprise Karma's response was a relaxed nod.

"You're acting weirdly cool about this."

It sent a shiver down his spine, in a weird way Karma was scarier when he didn't react. Not knowing what he's thinking was an uncomfortable feeling.

"It's not a big deal- unless you guys tell people, that's when things will leak."

Fuwa's voice highers a few octaves in concern "What things?!"

"Telling you would ruin the surprise wouldn’t it?”

Maehara, reckless as always chimes in “I wanted to go and see [Name] but I couldn't. We were almost a thing before you stole her ya know?"

Nagisa, being the good friend he is, rushes in to save him "That's not it at all! Isogai told us she rejected him a bunch of times since he's a womanizer!"

"I'm not a womanizer, I'm smooth."

"Smooth is the surface of the floor you'll be on when I knock your sorry ass out."

Maehara quickly moves behind Rio who changes the subject with a flood of questions;

"How long have you been dating? Why would anyone go out with you? Did you scare her into saying yes?"

"I’ll tell you if you buy me soba. Better question is: Why wouldn't someone go out with me? I’m tall, handsome, smart, charismatic… and I have a sick spice collection.”

“Im also all of those things.” Maehara jokes, cautiously this time, using Rio as a human shield.

#AkabaneOnPurpose #karma akabane #karma x reader #assassination classroom x reader #ansatsu kyoushitsu #karma akabane x reader #akabane karma x reader #anzulvr #akabane karma #akabane x reader #karma akabane x you #reader x karma #assassination classroom

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ashleyfilm · 1 month

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Seeing Clearly - Chapter 5. Movie Night

Please leave comments, I'd love to know your thoughts. And if you feel inclined to reblog, that would be so nice.

Chapter Warnings: cursing - Minors - DNI

Characters: Jackson!Joel Miller x F!Reader Plus Size. F!OC was recommended to me since there's a lot of description of her but I'm writing her as You (Reader) so hopefully you can still imagine yourself. Black hair, glasses, tattoos, big body, wears dark clothes, won't stop talking. Joel is tv show Jackson Joel.

Story Summary: Joel just saved your life, begrudgingly. He doesn't know exactly why but he brings you back to Jackson and you ingratiate yourself into his very small circle and his life. This takes place after season 1 of TLOU and season 2 doesn't exist in my brain because no.

Chapter Summary: You start your job at the library, meet a new resident of Jackson and Joel takes you to the movies. 1.8K

Thank you to @saradika-graphics for the book line divider. :)

Chapter 1 Here Chapter 2 Here Chapter 3 Here Chapter 4 Here

Chapter 5. Movie Night

After stopping by the clothing swap, Joel walks you to the library in your “new” old black t-shirt, with the faded logo of Guns n’ Roses, one of your favorite bands from childhood, you can still remember most of the words to the entire Use Your Illusion II album. Your eyes lit up when you found it and it actually fits you, even a tiny bit loose, your favorite. Joel couldn’t help the smile that formed on his plush lips seeing you full of glee, like a child that never went through any of this shit. At the library, you meet an older gentleman named Doc, long grey hair, warm smile and a sparkle in his eyes. He’s hoping to retire this year and you’re just in time to learn the ropes and take over. He walks you through the stacks and what he’s been able to do with the last three years he’s spent there. Organizing, cataloguing, working out distribution to the townsfolk. He even encourages you to suggest your own ideas on how to facilitate the place. You take your time walking around and looking at the books, all in various stages of use, but mostly well held up. Sometimes there are even multiple copies of something where the beginning is in one and the end in the other.

It's magical, being surrounded by all these stories, all these means of escape. And you haven’t even gotten to the VHS tape section with the movies. You grew up going to the video store every Friday with your parents, picking out something for them and something for you. Sitting in your room and watching the stories unfold before your eyes. You even worked in a video store before the outbreak, studied filmmaking in school. This place is already healing you. You can feel it. “Ash, got a visitor here, needs help finding something,” Doc says to break you from your reverie. You walk to the front desk and find a young man, probably in his early 30s, blonde hair, average height, good looking, but kind of like the asshole in your high school that’s on the soccer team and makes fun of you in front of his friends. “Ash, is it? I heard we had a newbie in town. I’m Ryan, nice to meet you,” he says as he takes your hand and gives it a squeeze. You still at the touch, people don’t really touch like this anymore and you haven’t been touched since you got here except for Joel and that was …different.

“Hi, uh, what can I help you with?” You say curtly. “Well, I’m looking for something to read, maybe something sci-fi, think you can help me out,” he says with a smirk. This guy isn’t here to read, he’s here to get the info on the new girl, ugh fuck off. “Um, sure, follow me.” Even though you’re new, you’ve quickly made a map in your head of the library space and the way Doc has taken to organizing and grouping things. You head straight to fiction section, which is currently just by author last name, you’ll change that. Wanting to get this over quickly, you look for H.G. Wells, and find The Invisible Man and hand it to the guy. So, Brad or whatever the fuck his name is will get away from you. “A Grotesque Romance,” he says reading the subtitle on the cover. “Interesting choice,” again with the smirk. “Yup, hope you enjoy it,” you say not really looking at him anymore. “I’m sure I will,” he says looking your body up and down. “See ya around, Ash.” You smile quickly and turn to walk away. Well, that’s the first person you’ve met that you immediately dislike, you guess it was bound to happen in a town with this many fucking people. A very obvious downside.

At the end of your shift, you say goodbye to Doc and start on your walk to the dining hall that will be turned into a movie theatre for the evening for a viewing of Jurassic Park. Your tote bag, courtesy of your new boss, filled with three books. Carrie by Stephen King for you, a graphic novel called, Somewhere in the Stars for Ellie, and No Country for Old Men by Cormac McCarthy for Joel. You wonder if he’ll like your old man joke or not. And like you’ve manifested him; he’s standing outside the library leaning against a lamppost, waiting for you. He’s stunning, standing with his arms crossed against his chest, in a green flannel with red lines and the sleeves rolled up to reveal his thick forearms and his hair wet and slicked back. And he’s there for you. He looks up and notices you walking towards him, you bite your lip to try and hide your smile. “Well, how’d it go?” He asks with his mouth in a line but his eyes, they’re different, warmer. “Good,” you answer, “Doc’s really lovely and it’s amazing how many books you all have.” He watches you speak, and you think he might see something new, and you feel it too, invigorated. You begin to walk in step with one another to the movie night.

“I got Ellie something,” you say as you dig into your bag and retrieve the graphic novel, handing it to Joel. He smiles warmly, probably thinking of Ellie and says, “She’ll love this.” After he hands it back you put it away and reach for the book you got for him, “And this …is for you.” Your hold your breath hoping he likes your choice. “Old Men, that a crack on me, sweetheart?” He says with a chuckle. Sweetheart, he just called you sweetheart. He continues, “Thank you, that’s real kind. Always wanted to read this one, never had the chance, always workin’ too much before everything happened.” “Good, well now you can.” He hands it back and your fingers brush just slightly and like this morning you feel a bolt of electricity run through you. You look away and hope he can’t see the blush on your cheeks.

When you walk into the theatre together, quite a few people look your way with curiosity. You don’t know if it’s because you’re new in town or because you’re with the big, bad Joel Miller. But soon, you don’t care because you smell the popcorn and hear people laughing and see the big projector screen. And you almost sob right then and there. Joel’s watching you in wonder. He lightly touches your shoulder, leaning in close he whispers, “Go pick out a seat wherever you want, I’ll get us some snacks.” A shiver runs down your spine and he’s gone. You find what you deem the perfect seat, close to the middle and along the center aisle. You see Ellie who gives you a wave and wanders after a pretty, dark-haired girl around her age. She looks so happy, and it makes your heart clench in your chest. You start to worry how much you’ve gotten comfortable here, it’s a lot so soon. And you worry that it could all be taken away, like everyone and everything in your life already has.

Before you can spiral too far into your mind, Joel sits next to you. “You couldn’t pick a place a little less surrounded by people?” he says with a grunt. “Hey, you said anywhere I want,” you pout at him. “That I did, I guess I shouldn’t leave it up to you next time,” he says with another hint of a laugh. Did he say next time? Did you really hear that? The movie starts to play, and you and Joel share popcorn, he holds it for you and offers it over to you every couple of minutes. You hear the music by John Williams, and it takes you back. When you were a little girl and your parents would sit you between them and watch you as your eyes lit up taking it all in, so enthralled. Popcorn now long forgotten, it comes to one of the parts you’ve never forgotten, when the girl, is about to fall through the ceiling and the velociraptors are underneath her dangling body and they snap at her legs. You jump out of your skin and grab onto Joel’s hand. After the jump scare you start to laugh, still holding onto him, then you look over at him and he’s already looking at you, a soft smile on his face, until both your smiles fade replaced with a longing gaze until he drops your hand and turns back to the movie. You worry you’ve gone too far, asked for too much, too soon. You clasp your hands back in your lap and try to enjoy the rest of the movie in silence.

As the T-Rex screams and the banner falls, the room is filled with applause. Everyone loved this movie; it didn’t matter who you were. The lights come on and everyone begins to make their way out into the night air of Jackson. Joel says he’s going to find Ellie and for you to “stay put.” Eyeroll. Unfortunately, that’s when Brad or whoever the fuck from earlier decides to come and say hello. “Hi there, Ash. How’d you like the movie?” he says while again looking you up and down. “It’s great, one of my favorites but I guess you weren’t born when it came out, huh?” You don’t even know if it’s true you just want to infantilize him, so he’ll go away. Instead, he laughs and touches your arm, “You may be right about that one.” Suddenly, Joel is back at your side with Ellie, “Time to go.” He says to you gruffly. Ellie is looking between you, Joel and what’s his name wide-eyed like she’s waiting for fireworks or a fight to break out. “Oh, hey Joel, I didn’t know you knew our girl, Ash here,” he says with a smirk, looking only at you. “She’s staying with us, Ryan.” Joel says, fist clenched at his side. Ryan, oh that’s his name. “Okay, well maybe you can save me a seat next time, Ash,” Ryan says with a tip of his hat gesture, the dumbass isn’t even wearing a hat. Idiot. “Bye,” you say as you turn to walk after Ellie and Joel. Ellie hangs back with you as Joel darts off ahead of you. With a grin Ellie says, “What was all that about, huh?” You look at her with a disgusted look on your face, “I honestly have no idea.” Over the next several days, you avoid Brad/Ryan like the plague. Haha, plague. And sadly Joel barely speaks to you, but he does leave out your wolf mug by the coffee machine every morning.

#ashleyfilm #joel miller plus size reader #joel tlou #pedro pascal fanfiction #seeing clearly #joel miller x you #joel the last of us #the last of us #joel miller #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal plus size reader

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lunarbuck · 2 years

Text

The Kiss (prof!bucky x f!reader)

AU- Professor/Student

Pairing: professor!bucky x f!reader (any race)

WC: 4.2k

Summary: You’ve always had a crush on Professor Barnes… little did you know he has been hiding some feelings of his own

Warnings: age difference, fluff, oral (f receiving), smut (p in v), pet names (Sir, sweetheart, baby), praise

A/N: this is my entry for @the-slumberparty Week 4 challenge! the AU I got was professor/student and I've been wanting to write this for a long time!!! I hope you guys enjoy <3

full masterlist

“That’s it for today. You’re all dismissed.” Book bags and jackets zip loudly as the small lecture center begins to empty. You start packing up your things, but you don’t get out of your seat yet. This certainly has been your favorite of all the classes you’ve taken in the past four years. White Collar Crime, taught by Professor Barnes, is one of the most interesting courses you’ve taken, and you also love the professor.

Prof. Barnes is a lawyer by day, and a lecturer by evening, as he says. And though he’s often incredibly busy with cases, it's easy to see how passionate he is about teaching. You watch as he packs up his belongings, a few students quickly asking him questions about the upcoming exam. Prof. Barnes used to seem scary and intimidating to you, but after a few weeks, you started catching glimpses of his grin, of light in his eye, and you’ve been a goner ever since.

His features are sharp, and he always looks so put together. His brown hair is clipped close on the sides and kept short on top, which suits his personality well. His broody exterior is one that most people fear, but it just draws you in, and you can’t seem to stay away.

You grab your things and start toward the front of the room. Typically, you make up a question as an excuse to talk to him, but today you have a real one. You’re the last student in the room, and Prof. Barnes is already watching you approach.

“Hi,” you greet, rocking back and forth on your heels momentarily. “Last week, you mentioned being able to go over our exam answers with you, so we know what to study. Could I schedule time with you to do that?” You do your best not to let your eyes drift from his, but it’s tough. His shirts are always perfectly tailored to him, showing off his broad shoulders and strong legs.

Prof. Barnes doesn’t smile, but you can see the warmth in his eyes, which is better, in your opinion. “Of course. Do you have time now? This was my last class of the evening, so we can just go right to my office.” Your heart stutters in your chest at his words. You’ve gone to his office hours a few times, but there’ve always been other students outside or in the office with you. You’ve never been alone with him like that.

And as it turns out, you don’t have anything going on for the rest of the night. “That works for me,” you say, grinning. Prof. Barnes leads the way out of the lecture hall and to the building where his office is. Even though neither of you speaks the entire way, you’re buzzing. He walks close enough that sometimes your arms brush, and you can smell his cologne.

When you arrive in his office, Prof. Barnes instructs you to sit across from him at his desk while he gets everything ready. The office is filled with books and papers, organized in a way that doesn’t quite make sense to you, but you can imagine it’s perfect for Prof. Barnes. Your eyes trail over the spines of the books, and you notice that not all are law books, but many of them are classics.

“So, here’s your last exam,” he says, pulling your attention back to him. Prof. Barnes has laid out your scantron page as well as the exam itself, and has your grades pulled up on his computer. “You did very well, which I’m not surprised by, and the questions you did get wrong, the whole class struggled with.” Your mind short-circuits as he speaks. He’s paid enough attention to you not to be surprised by your good grade? The class itself isn’t very big, all things considered, but there are 50 students, and this isn’t the only class he teaches.

“Oh, thank you, Sir,” you reply shyly, surprised that that’s what you called him. You’ve never addressed him that way, but you love how it felt. The corner of his mouth tips up into an almost smile as he suppresses a slight shiver.

“You don’t have to call me that,” he adds, flipping through the exam booklet. You quirk an eyebrow, silently asking him to elaborate, but he doesn’t. He finds the first question you got wrong. “So here’s what you said,” he points to your answer on the scantron. “What do you think the right answer is?”

His bright blue eyes watch you as you think, tracing over your features like he’s trying to analyze you. You try not to shrink under his gaze.

“Differential association?” You suggest, not entirely sure of the response, but the way Prof. Barnes’ eyes light up tells you you’re right.

“Correct,” he says, marking down your answer on a new sheet of paper. “Good girl.” The words slip out, almost as if he didn’t mean for you to hear them, but you did, and they go straight to your lower belly, lighting a spark. Prof. Barnes doesn’t acknowledge what he’s said, opting to continue through the other questions you missed.

Each time you answer a question correctly, he smiles a little more, and looks a little more pleased. But all you can focus on is how he called you ‘good girl’. It echoes through your head, making your heart beat faster and heat lick in your belly.

As you answer the last question, Prof. Barnes’ tongue traces over his lower lip. Your eyes track the movement, and you suck in a breath. He nods, indicating your answer is correct and clasps his hands on the desk.

“You’re more than ready for the exam,” he tells you, keeping eye contact. “You need to give yourself more credit, and trust that you know the answer. You’re smart. Trust your gut, okay?” You nod, unable to tear your eyes away from his.

“Thank you, Sir,” you say, voice breathy. Alarm bells go off in your head that you’ve definitely alerted Prof. Barnes to the state that you’re in, but honestly, you don’t care. You’re sure women throw themselves at him constantly, probably even some students. He’s handsome in that classic way, strong features and bright eyes. He knows he’s attractive; he knows people want him.

He’s close enough that if you leaned in a bit, you could kiss him. You’re desperate to know what his lips would feel like against yours, what he’d taste like. Would he hold your face to lead the kiss? Would his fingers tangle in your hair?

Even though you don’t want to, you stand and gather your things. As you walk toward the door, you hear Prof. Barnes approach. He reaches the door before you and stands in front of it, blocking your exit.

He opens his mouth but closes it immediately like he isn’t sure what to say. His eyebrows furrow, and he takes a deep breath. “You liked it,” he states, as if that’s enough information for you to go off of. When you don’t respond, he continues. “You liked when you called me ‘sir’ and when I said you were a good girl.” His voice doesn’t waver, but he fists his hands like he’s holding himself back from something.

Your lips fall open, stunned at his observation. The way he’s speaking to you now makes the coil in your belly tighten, thinking about how he’d called you a good girl only fueling the feeling.

“You’re easy to read,” he continues. “You always stay after class to ask me questions. You come to my office hours when we both know damn well you don’t need the help. You bit your lip when you called me ‘sir’. You shivered when I called you ‘good girl’.” Your breathing has sped up, causing your chest to heave.

You don’t know what to say. You’re not sure you’d know how to speak even if you had the words.

“You thought I wouldn't figure it out, didn’t you, sweetheart?” He steps toward you, grips your jacket, which you’ve been clutching to your chest this whole time, and tugs it from your arms. “You thought I hadn’t seen you, that I hadn’t noticed you.”

You nod as he closes the distance between you. His smell invades your nostrils, making you feel dizzy.

“Well, I noticed, sweetheart.” Prof. Barnes places his hands on the sides of your jaw, thumbs brushing over your cheeks. He’s giving you time to pull away, giving you an out. But you don’t want it. You rest your hands in the bend of his arms and nod, giving him the permission he needs.

Prof. Barnes leans in and kisses you, pressing his lips gently to yours. He tilts your head slightly like you imagined he would, but you could never have imagined how soft his lips are. How good it feels to have his breath wash over your cheek. He tastes like coffee and something sweet, something distinctly him. He pulls you closer, removing the small space between your bodies, leaving you pressed against his chest. Prof. Barnes’ left hand leaves your face, shifting to cup the side of your neck before sliding down your back. It settles on your lower back, pressing you into him even more.

You whimper into the kiss at the feeling of him, of being so close, and he takes the opportunity to nip at your bottom lip. When he pulls away, you’re breathless. “You taste so sweet,” he muses, a smile growing on his face. “Just like I knew you would.”

For the next two weeks, Professor Barnes cancels class. Even when he’s busy with a case, he never cancels; he just switches the class to online. You can’t help but feel like it’s because of you. Because of the kiss.

The kiss.

It plays on repeat in your head; it follows you into your dreams. How his lips molded to yours and his hands held your head, how they pressed you into him. It was all so perfect; it felt so right. But maybe it didn’t feel that way for Prof. Barnes. After he’d kissed you, you’d stayed for a little longer, wrapped up in him, but he got a call and had to leave right after. He’d kissed you on the way out, saying he’d see you soon, but you haven’t.

You were supposed to have Prof. Barnes’ class today. It was supposed to be a review day for the exam next class, but again, class is canceled. Once you finish your morning classes, you have no reason to stay on campus, so you start walking back to your apartment. Your phone buzzes, and when you pull it out, you find another text from your roommate begging you to go out tonight. You’ve been trying to get out of it, but you’re in the mood for a distraction, so you give in.

Later that night, you find yourself at one of the bars near campus. It’s not as packed as you thought, so you go to the bar and almost immediately get the bartender’s attention. He leans over the bar to hear you better, but you don’t miss the way his eyes roam over your figure before reaching your eyes again.

“What can I getcha?” He asks, giving you a smile. You rattle off your order and something for your roommate and make pleasant, if not flirtatious, conversation with the bartender. He’s cute but not really your type. Your type these days has been older, broodier, more intense…

You need to stop thinking about Professor Barnes. You need to get him out of your system.

The bartender, whose name you’ve learned is Troy, sets your drinks down in front of you with a wink, and you smile in return, sliding the cash over to him. Your roommate grabs her drink quickly before running off to say hi to one of her other friends, leaving you at the bar alone. You turn around to find somewhere a little less crowded when you feel someone’s eyes on you.

It takes you a second, but your gaze connects with two familiar bright blue eyes, and your breath catches in your throat.

Bucky

She saw me.

I watch as the bartender gets her attention again, and though I can’t hear what they’re saying, I see her smile at him. I clench my teeth at the sight. The bartender slides something across the bar to her, and she looks surprised but accepts it, tucking it into the back pocket of her tight jeans.

She looks incredible tonight in her fitted shirt and those jeans that make her ass look perfect. The bartender gets pulled away to do his job, and I watch as the woman that has occupied my thoughts for so long turns back around and finds me in the crowd.

She is like a ray of fucking sunshine, so bright in my life, and as she walks toward me slowly, I can practically feel her warmth already. She approaches me tentatively like she’s worried I’ll disappear the moment she gets close enough to touch.

“Professor Barnes,” she whispers, but I hear her despite the noise of the crowd. It’s pathetic, the way my cock hardens just at her voice, but she has me wrapped around her little finger, whether she realizes it or not.

“Sweetheart,” I reply. I don’t miss the way she shivers, the way heat flares in her eyes.

“Where’ve you been?” She asks, fiddling with the straw in her drink. She’s avoiding eye contact, but I want to see her beautiful eyes. I stand, towering over her, and that gets her attention. She tilts her head up, and I have to stifle a groan at the sight of her looking up at me with those doe eyes.

“Did you miss me, sweetheart?” She nods just a little as if her head did it without her mind’s consent. I let my fingers trail up her bare arm, her skin soft against my calloused hand, until my hand cups her jaw. She leans into my touch, and I brush my thumb over her cheek.

I lean in, getting close enough that her shaking breaths fan over my face, and whisper, “I missed you too.” She tilts her head to try and kiss me, but I hold her face still. We’re in a bar on campus full of students. I can’t risk us being seen like this. Even touching her is dangerous.

“Oh.” She sounds defeated, and my chest squeezes. I’m not rejecting her. Quite the opposite, actually.

“The things I want to do to you, sweetheart,” I tell her, leaning my forehead against hers. “I cannot do in this bar.” Her breath stutters and her eyes glaze over with need. She quickly downs her drink and finds her roommate to tell her she’s leaving. When she returns to me, her nerves and excitement pour from her, and I feel myself beginning to smile.

“Where are we going?” She asks, her tongue darting out to wet her lower lip. I tangle my fingers with her and tug her toward the door. My car is parked a block away. I didn’t drink. I didn’t come here to drink, so I’m good to drive.

The drive to my place is only about 10 minutes, but it feels like hours. I grip the steering wheel so tightly that my knuckles go pale. I’m desperate to taste her again, to feel her writhing against me. I’d wanted to take her right then and there in my office, but it was too risky. I’m so close to having her after waiting for what’s felt like forever.

We pull into the driveway of my house, and I watch her take a deep breath. I can tell she’s nervous, but I also see the way she’s watching my every move, the way she so clearly wants me.

I shut the front door behind her, and I’m on her. I press her back against the door and kiss her. She tastes so fucking good, so soft and sweet against my lips. She grips my jacket as my fingers tangle in her hair. My tongue swipes across the seam of her lips, and she opens for me with a moan.

“You’re so sweet, baby,” I whisper against her lips. She shudders, arching against me. My cock is hard in my jeans, and I grind against her to show her just how much she affects me. I kiss her again, drinking in the way she reacts to every touch.

“Please,” she moans. I pull back slightly and take in the way her face is twisted in pleasure.

“Please, what, sweetheart?” She furrows her brows in frustration, and I can’t help but smirk as she does it. She’s so worked up, but I want her begging.

She pants for a moment before finding her words. “I just need you,” she whispers. “Please, Sir, I need you so bad.” Her voice comes out a needy whine, and the way she calls me sir nearly sends me over the edge.

“Good girl.” I press a bruising kiss to her again before I pick her up princess-style. I walk her up the stairs to my bedroom and toss her on my bed. I can’t believe I haven’t done this sooner, that I tried to deny myself the pleasure of seeing her on my bed, panting and wanting.

I shrug off my jacket and toss it aside before approaching the bed. She looks up at me with big doe eyes, those eyes that watch me every time we’re in class, the ones that I’ve seen in my dreams. I lean over the bed and grab her ankles, tugging her until her legs hang over the edge.

She watches my hands as I run my hands up her legs, appreciating every beautiful curve of her body. My fingers tease the skin above her waistband. I move to unbutton her jeans, waiting for her to tell me to go on, and once she nods, I peel them off her.

I am breathless, utterly hypnotized by her as I kneel at the foot of the bed. Her panties are simple, lacy and black, and when I run my thumb up and down over her pussy, she lets out the most beautiful moan.

“You know how long I’ve wanted this?” I ask, rubbing a circle over her clit. She shakes her head, fisting the sheets. “Since the day I saw you, I’ve wanted you. Every time you came to my office, I wanted to kick everyone out and put you over my desk. I’ve wanted to keep you after class every day, have you moaning my name so loud it would echo in the lecture hall.”

When she lets out a strangled moan, I pull her panties down and revel in how gorgeous and wet she is. I tuck her panties into my pocket and run my hands over her bare skin. She shivers and tries to pull her legs together, but I don’t let her.

“I’ve wanted to taste you since I saw you. You gonna let me taste you, sweetheart?” I ask, adding a teasing tone to my voice.

“Please,” she begs. “Please, Sir.” I grin at her pussy and dive in. The second my tongue swipes over her pussy she arches, her fingers digging into my hair. She lets out a string of expletives as I suck her clit and explore her perfect cunt.

She tastes so much better than I ever could have imagined, and I know I’ll be addicted to this forever. She is so responsive, so sensitive to every swipe of my tongue, and all it does is make me work harder for her. I graze my teeth over her clit, and she jolts but pulls my hair more, guiding me to exactly where she wants me.

I work her up more and more until I feel her trembling beneath me. “You wanna come, sweetheart?” I ask, sliding a finger into her pussy. She’s hot and tight around my finger, and I feel her clench around it.

“Yes, please,” she replies, voice breathy from the pleasure. I click my tongue in mock-disappointment. I nip at her inner thigh, soothing the bite with a kiss.

“Please, who? Who’s making you feel good? Who’s gonna make you come?” She squirms a little and tries to get me to keep eating her out, but I don’t give in, no matter how much I want to keep tasting her.

“Please, Sir,” she amends. “You’re making me feel so good, please, Sir. I need you so bad.”

“Such a good girl,” I groan. I double my efforts on her clit and slide a second finger inside her, hitting a spot that makes her twitch.

Her legs tighten around my head as she comes, and it takes everything in me to not come right along with her. I ease up when I notice her getting too sensitive and kiss my way up her body.

“You’re perfect,” I tell her, sucking a mark on her neck. She helps me pull her shirt and bra off before she starts working my shirt off as well. A moment later, we’re both naked, and I love the way her eyes trace over every inch of me.

She pulls me in for another kiss, and I lean on my forearms, keeping myself hovering just over her.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” she tells me between kisses. “Wanted you for so long.” I grin into the kiss, then pull away to dig through my bedside table for a condom. She watches with hooded, lust-filled eyes.

“This okay?” I ask, rolling the condom onto myself. I don’t think I’ve ever been this hard in my life. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted someone how I want her.

She nods enthusiastically. “Please, Sir, please fuck me.” My head lulls back at her words.

I line myself up with her pussy and push in just a little, watching her face contort. Inch by inch, I sink inside her wet heat, and once I’m fully inside her, I let out a low moan. I give her a moment to adjust before I pull out and slam back in.

I know I should be gentle, that I should warm her up to this, but I can’t. There will be time for gentleness, and now’s not that time. I set a brutal, deep pace, and she takes it like the good girl she is.

Her fingers scrape down my back as she urges me on, legs wrapping around me to keep me close. I knew she’d be able to take it. I knew she’d be good for me. I tell her over and over how perfect she feels, how good she’s taking me, and every word of praise makes her squeeze tighter around me.

“Oh my god, I’m so close,” she moans.

“Come for me, sweetheart. Come all over my dick.” I keep doing what I know she likes and watch as she falls apart beneath me. I’ve never seen anything more beautiful than this. Than her. Once she comes down from her high, I switch our position. I turn her over and hike her ass up, keeping her head low on the mattress. My mouth waters as I press into her again. Her jaw drops open, and her eyes squeeze shut, and I start fucking her again.

Each sound she makes goes straight to my cock. Every moan, every whimper, brings me closer to the edge. I grip her hips hard, but I don’t care if I’m leaving marks. I want her to see them, to run her fingers over them as she thinks about the way I made her come on my cock.

My hips start to stutter, my thrust getting sloppy as I get closer and closer to coming. I wish I could fill her up and see my cum drip out of her, but I know we’re not there yet. I haul her chest up, pressing her back to my front, and snake my hands around her. One of my hands cups her neck, not choking her but gripping it, and the other teases her breast. My fingers tweak her nipple, and she jolts in my hold.

“You like it when I fuck you like this?” I ask, punctuating my words with deeper thrusts. She moans but doesn’t answer. “Answer me, sweetheart,” I say, practically scolding her.

“Fuck, I love it so much, Sir.” Her voice is strung out with pleasure. The hand that has been playing with her breasts falls to her pussy, and I tease her clit, pulling another orgasm out of her. She’s so loud when she comes, and it pulls me over with her.

I come hard, my vision blacking out on the edges, and we collapse together on the bed.

We watch each other as we come down from our highs. She smiles sheepishly at me, and I kiss away any doubts that might be clouding her mind right now. “That was perfect,” I tell her, kissing her nose.

“Thank you, Sir,” she replies. I pull her close to me, wrapping her in my arms.

“You know you don’t have to call me that,” I remind her. She tilts her head up to keep eye contact, and I love the light that shines in her beautiful eyes.

“What should I call you then?”

“Bucky.” She smiles at the nickname my friend gave me when we were younger.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Bucky.” She giggles as I kiss her, and I lock that sound away, keeping it somewhere I’ll never lose it.

“Nice to meet you, sweetheart.”

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pepsiboyy · 7 months

Text

beyond the contract - part 2

P1 P2 P3 P4 P5 P6 P7 P8

pairing: matt sturniolo x reader summary: where the sturniolo triplets are part of an organization known as the eclipse alliance, matt has constantly failed to pull through with pulling the trigger on a target. fed up, their boss gives matt one last chance, where he is sent to northside high school to get some answers out of a girl. warnings: mentions of weapons (guns), blood, and cursing!! author's note: hiii part one is doing kind of good so i guess its time to write part two !! <3 WC: 1974 lowercase intentional !!

"class, today we have a new student."

my eyebrows furrowed as i examined the new boy. he was very clearly nervous, and i could tell he had a bit of a hard time talking to the class.

"hi, i'm matt," he breathed and took in a sharp breath. i smiled softly at him as i sat up in my seat. i already knew where this was going.

"psst," i whispered, causing the brunette to turn in my direction. "here," i mouthed, pointing at the seat beside me. this kid had to sit down eventually or else the teacher would dig into his life story in front of the entire class.

once he set down his things, he turned to me and whispered a soft, "thanks," before he took out some things.

i smiled softly as i looked at him. this guy was stunning, probably one of the most beautiful guys i had ever laid eyes on. in the least weird way possible. or something.

"no problem, she rambles anyways. needed to get you outta there as soon as i could," i mumbled back and chuckled, shooting him a soft smile. i held out my hand as i watched his eyes scan the room. was he looking for someone? i shrugged it off when he moved to shake my hand back, and i shook his hand firmly. "name's y/n."

matt smiled at me and nodded quickly and pulled his hand back to his lap. "nice to meet you, y/n. your name's pretty."

i felt my cheeks heat up, but played it off and thanked him with a soft smile.

i took a few steps towards my front door before pushing the door opened and turning towards my dad, who was sitting in the living room and reading. he shut the book at the sound of the door opening, and i smiled softly. "i'm home, dad."

he immediately stood up and smiled, making his way to the kitchen. "hey, kiddo. how was school?" he whispered as he began to wash the dishes in the sink.

"good, there was a new kid so i showed him around throughout the day.." i trailed off as i began collecting my things. "anyways, i'm going upstairs to do homework." i smiled at my dad before giving him a soft side hug and heading upstairs.

after some time of doing homework, my mind felt like it was trailing off severely. i had gotten hardly any work done. my dad had gone off to work, so i had the house to myself. with a soft hum, i carefully slid my phone out from my pocket and pulled up the newest contact created, matt.

i stared at it for about five minutes before finally composing a message, typing and reading it out loud to myself before backspacing. this repeated several times before i read it out to myself again.

"hey matt, glad i met you today... i hope that today was an alright first day, and i could be of some help. see you tomorrow." i took in a soft breath and hit send before quickly shutting off my phone and setting it on the side of my bed.

for some reason, matt made me super nervous. in the best way possible. he seems like he keeps to himself, and someone who doesn't open up much. yet, that makes him so intriguing. i found myself thinking about him many times throughout the day, and to add on top of it, he's pretty cute too.

living alone with my dad was always something, especially since he was always out on a business trip. he works in an office, and while i try to visit him sometimes, he tells me he's busy that day. and the next. and the next week. month. year. so i stopped trying. he never really talked with me in general other than asking me how my day is going.

my mom is out of the picture. she left us when i was about eight years old, and i never got to find out why. dad talks about her a lot though, and how beneficial she was to him overall. he really loved her.

i guess matt reminds me of my dad in a way, being so mysterious. but what can i say, i met him just today.

i sighed and turned to the clock, groaning as i read the time.

1:03am.

"hey," i breathed, looking at matt and smiling at him. we had both sat down fairly early before class.

matt turned to me and smiled softly before going back to his phone and scrolling through instagram.

i scrunched up my nose, blinking a few times as i looked down at my finished homework and back at him.

"how was... your night?"

matt shrugged in response, and i bit my lip. was he upset about something?

"did you get my text last night? i was worried i sent it to the wrong number."

wrong. i knew it was his number, but i wanted to know if he had at least read it.

"oh, sorry, i must have opened it on accident." matt mumbled before going back to what he was doing.

my face fell as i stared at him in disbelief. "right," i replied, before turning my head to the front of the classroom.

class came to an end, and i turned to matt. he hadn't spoken to me the entirety of class, and i was beginning to wonder if something was wrong. maybe he was having second thoughts about coming to this school?

"hey," i muttered, putting a hand on matt's shoulder as he began to walk away. he stopped in his tracks and looked down before taking a very visible breath. i bit my lip before i removed my hand. "can you talk to me? is something up?"

matt turned around slowly and looked at me, his bright blue eyes making contact with mine.

that was another thing about him i couldn't stop thinking about. his eyes.

"yeah, sorry. i just have had a lot on my mind," he responded before taking a deep breath and smiling at me.

"i understand. did you want me to go over some of the missing work with you after school?" i questioned, looking at him with a soft smile.

"oh, yeah sure that might be... good," matt breathed, looking away and rubbing his neck. "is your place cool? mine is kind of... a mess. or any place. it doesn't have to be yours-" he rambled, but i cut him off with a soft chuckle.

"my place is fine. my dad won't be home, so.." i trailed off before my cheeks turned pink. "sorry, i mean that in the least weird way possible." i chuckled nervously, and matt nodded with a shy smile.

"right." he breathed before he turned to begin walking to our next class.

i sat on the couch in my living room, staring at my wall as i waited for the doorbell. i had deep cleaned my house, and to be honest, i still felt like it was a mess. the idea that this new boy who i had known for a day and a half was coming to my house, not to mention he was incredibly attractive.

ding dong.

i shot up from the couch and booked it to the door, quickly opening it and chuckling softly. "heyy," i breathed, smiling as i stepped back for matt to come inside.

with a few steps, matt made his way through the door and smiled softly. "nice house you have here," he mumbled before he tried to hold in a laugh. "sorry, not to be weird. i just.. think it's nice? i don't know.." he trailed off.

i could tell he had mentally facepalmed and i shrugged before making my way up the stairs to my room with him. "my schoolwork and everything is up here, we can work on it all in here." i smiled as i pushed the door open to the room.

it was a quiet and simple room, one with white and beige walls with hints of greens and browns. there's some posters of my favorite bands and shows, but not too many to where it looks like clutter. i carefully took a seat on the end of my bed and turned my head to matt, who was standing awkwardly in the doorway.

i chuckled and waved him in. "you're welcome in, you know." i smiled.

his cheeks turned a soft shade of pink as he chuckled and moved forward to carefully sit beside me, a generous amount of room between us two.

"should i put some music on?" i questioned as i stood up and connected my phone to the small speaker on my nightstand.

matt shrugged and played with his fingers for a few minutes before reaching into his backpack and pulling out a few books.

i watched him for a moment before i mentally slapped myself.

right, we're studying.

i put on some hotel ugly on shuffle, and matt's head shot up as he looked at me with a shocked look. "i love hotel ugly," he breathed, and i chuckled softly, sitting back down.

"i picked them up more recently, their music is really soothing and.." i trailed off as i looked at my hands and shrugged. "sorry, i'm rambling." i smiled as i pulled out my own books and materials.

matt stared at me as we studied. a lot. and every time i turned to catch him, he would clear his throat and look away.

"can i get you something to drink?" i asked as i stood up, rubbing the back of my head and stretching softly. "we have water, orange and apple juice, root b-"

"i'll take that," he interrupted, smiling warmly, "the root beer."

i chuckled and nodded before heading out of my room and to the fridge. with a soft hum to myself, i carefully grabbed him and i both a can of root beer.

my mind wandered. matt seemed like somebody who kept to himself, but i could tell that with time, he would open up. with that thought, i made my way back up the stairs.

"i got your root beer," i chuckled and turned to matt, who was standing by my dresser and looking at the different famed pictures.

i carefully set the cans down on my nightstand and made my way over to him, blinking. "you okay?" i asked, looking at him.

"why are you alone in all of your pictures here?" he asked, turning to me, and i blinked a few times before shrugging.

"well, my mom is out of the picture, and my dad usually takes the pictures." i shrugged and took a seat back down on the side of the bed, taking our root beers and handing him his before opening mine and taking a sip.

"can i ask what happened to your mom?" he asked, taking a seat beside me and opening his root beer as well.

i smiled sadly as i looked in front of me blankly. "uhh, she walked out on me and my dad when i was about... i wanna say eight?" i shrugged. "it's always been me and my dad, but we only talk once a day, honestly. he's busy with work, and i respect that." i smiled and hummed.

matt listened to me and nodded, humming softly through each statement.

a few moments go by and matt lets out a deep sigh, standing up and stretching. "wanna get out of here?" he questioned, smiling softly.

i blinked a few times and stood up as well, smiling back. "i mean... sure? where are you thinking of going?"

matt chuckled and began walking, motioning me to follow him.

"i know a spot."

I HOPE THIS WAS FREAKING AWESOME pls let me know what you guys think!!! i took a bit of a break off tumblr and whatnot for a break graaah and comment to be added to taglist!! taglist;; @star-saturn-xx @sturniolo-girl @p1xieswrld

#chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #matt x reader

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