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ankurvyas1 · 1 year

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High School

Local laws and international laws might be a little different but humanity's laws are pretty much the same. Anywhere in the world you go, if an individual kills another individual for money, sx, power, position, influence, sport, greed, intolerant attitude, or any other inhumane reason, they must get punished. e.g. 09/2001, Afgha......, 2003 and every subsequent action inhumanely done to not get punishment.

Locally, people are going to work and working hard honorably to make money to buy food they can eat with respect, then make money to build whether it is a business or their employer and then use money to drive nice cars, and live life. That is the American way. Not what really and actually happened above.

“Acquire knowledge. It stays with you for a lifetime.”

I was never taught to acquire knowledge. It just sort of became an interest to me, then a desire then an outright passion. I love to read. I love to listen. I love to observe.

When I was in high school, I read a 400-page psychology book at the very back of the room in a class that wasn’t about psychology. I don’t know why it just interested me. I’m not saying you should read a psychology book; just pick up something that interests you but always keep your brain alert and accepting. Always talk to people that aren’t similar to you. Why? To listen and learn from them. Always read something that isn’t similar to you. Why? To acquire knowledge.

For high school students who need academic help:

“No man is an island.”

Ask for help. The only dumb question is the one not asked (except for one). In high school, I would read everything I didn’t understand once. Then I would use angular brackets to highlight the most important things. Then I would read only the text within the angular brackets. Then I would keep re-reading it until I knew it by heart. I’m not super-smart. I just knew how I learned. It might seem ironic, but I taught myself how to learn. You have to understand how you think. When you understand that, it is a lot easier to figure out the steps of learning. For me, it is through re-reading the most important things. For you, it could be something different. Whatever it is, figure it out and then apply it.

In my senior year, I taught a tall black basketball athlete that needed tutoring so he asked and I agreed. We would go to the local fast food restaurant (which one doesn’t really make any difference) after my cross country run and his workout and I would just stay with it until he understood. He wasn’t an idiot or a genius. He just needed someone to show him the way, the right way to learn and he asked for help, which was the first and biggest step that he took. He acknowledged his own limitations and he didn’t have an ego (which means a willingness to learn). I wasn’t in basketball, I wasn’t as tall as him, I didn’t have as many girlfriends as him, but he didn’t have an ego (plus he needed to clear a certain GPA or he wouldn’t be able to play in college because of graduation from high school).

For high school students that have a part-time job:

I worked at Del Taco during I think my sophomore or junior year, usually on the weekends, and maybe 1 or 2 days during the weekdays. One time, it was raining hard and I didn’t want to use that as an excuse. So I put on an old t-shirt, pants and a light jacket in a plastic bag then in a school bag, I put my clothes that I was going to change into when I reached Del Taco. I got drenched. I mean soaked. Then I went to the bathroom, changed my clothes, and went to work. I cycled there with my bicycle that I bought with the money I earned from my newspaper delivery route.

As I mentioned earlier, there’s nothing wrong with working part-time in high school or in the university if you understand that it is just the means to the end not the end itself.

For high school students who have low self-esteem:

Sign up for the Yearbook Club. It’s great. You get to take pictures of cheerleaders. You have an excuse to talk to them. All kidding aside, low self-esteem is due to reasons best known to each individual. Later on, I describe about knowing yourself – the way you think and consequently feel – and knowing the other person. You don’t need to read a psychology book. As I said earlier, you need to understand the way you think, then understand the way the other person thinks. When you do, you’re golden.

Mr. Kaufhold, my Yearbook teacher, in my senior year, when I was late to class right after lunch, said, “Oh, Ankur, you just missed my lecture on tardiness.” I loved that wit. It was my senior year so it was difficult to worry about after school detention when I knew I’d be in college within a few months.

Bullying:

I was cool with a lot of people in my high school, but there was one person who for some reason just didn’t like me. I didn’t try to befriend him or ask him why. I just did not pay attention to him. So in my language class, he was just like I’m going to fight you after school and I was indifferent because I knew the guy didn’t realize my friend had sat next to him, heard him say that and told him to back off. I didn’t care either way but there was no fight.

For high school students that smoke:

With Indian culture (not Native American), my parents never told me don’t smoke. They just expected it, but I would say to the parents of children with multi-cultural backgrounds, don’t just expect that your child will not smoke. The way I learned to not smoke is in my senior year in high school, I saw a picture of a lung of a decades-long smoker that had cancer. The lung looked decayed, dirty, and dark. It was next to a picture of a healthy lung. The first reaction I had was I never want my lungs to look so unhealthy. If famous people who died from lung cancer or pictures of unhealthy lungs were shown to high school students or were on the pack of cigarettes, there would be less smokers that would in turn live longer and lead productive lives.

Participate in a sport:

Physical activity is known to release endorphins which help you release stress and feel good mentally. You will feel better. If you’re not good at the sport, it’s alright. Just work out. You will also have more self-esteem and, of course, if you cross country or track, like I did in my high school, you will have healthier lungs. Participating in a sport is also for high school students who are fat or unhealthy. Physical activity also fosters social connections because of shared activity. It also gives you a sense of pride and worth when you physically accomplish something. I remember in high school there were always students that slacked in physical education and the teacher didn’t really care but I think it is absolutely necessary in today’s world. Runner’s World is a great magazine for cross country and track. I think the high schools should keep similar sports magazines for the different sports. Also, in the freshman year of high school, I would suggest students only sign up for one sport. High school is much different than junior high school or middle school. With the hectic schedules, it can very quickly get overwhelming. Then as the student gets accustomed to the busy schedule of managing a sport along with academics, they can think of joining a club or other extracurricular activity or even another sport. I think that’s much better than to try to do more than possible.

I understand the parents that want to move into better neighborhoods for the high schools but why not just increase the level and strength of public education. Give the teachers higher pay. Then equip the public schools with the library books, tools and technology needed to compete. Eventually it works out because when the teachers are better at their jobs, the students are more likely to go to a university. More education means higher salaries. The people are less likely to commit crimes and go to jail, which means the government spends less money on incarceration and rehabilitation. The people are less likely to be homeless so there’s less social spending. The government then has more money on more critical spending in technological infrastructure, roads, waterways and other areas like Veteran Affairs. It also means more innovation, which is described with examples later. All of this means the national economy grows and is more competitive internationally. It all goes back to a quote by Lincoln:

“You can fool all of the people some of the time and some of the people all of the time, but you cannot fool all of the people all of the time.”

Don’t sell the sizzle or the steak. You just have to step up. I cannot stress this enough. You cannot fool all of the people all of the time. So, it is better to increase capability now so when it is time to step up, you’re ready to compete.

For high school students who don’t know if they should go to a university:

Yes. Get higher education. The first two years of your university days are general subjects anyway. You will learn so much. I would encourage students to join clubs, fraternity/sorority, language courses, things which you are interested in. You will naturally find what you want to do with your life. Talk to your high school guidance counselor if you aren’t sure of the major. It’s alright. Just attend a university. Don’t even worry about financial aid. If you don’t qualify or you just cannot afford it, then go part-time and work part-time. Whatever you’re earning from your part-time job is pale in comparison to what you’ll earn when you are a university graduate.

When I went into my science teacher’s room in the 12th grade, there was an awesome poster. It had the Earth, then its relative size and position to the Sun, then the Sun’s relative size and position to the solar system, then the solar system’s relative size and position to the galaxy, then the galaxy’s relative size and position to nearby stars and then the universe. It was mind-boggling. Then there should have been a quote:

“There is other life in the universe or we’re all alone. Either way, it’s scary.”

You’re on the Earth for a reason. Find the reason. Then use your time purposefully and with conviction. Remember the following quote by Roosevelt:

“If you fail, fail while daring greatly so that your place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory nor defeat.”

I didn’t take a creative writing course until the University of California, Riverside (UCR) but I can say to the high school students writing their college/university admissions essay:

The reader of your essay has read thousands of essays. They can spot a fake from the real deal a mile away. So be true to your reader. Talk about the skills you learned in high school, how you will apply them to succeed in higher education and the skills you want to learn.

In my college essay, I wrote that my cross country coach once told us: “Everyone wants to win and the will to win. Very few have that will to work to win.”

I got accepted to an advanced biomedical degree program where you get your Doctor of Medicine (M.D.) degree in seven years, but I still think they confused my application with someone else’s so somehow I got accepted into a program where only a dozen like them existed in the entire country. The admissions rate is as low as the admissions acceptance rate into the Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT).

“Shoot for the moon. Even if you don’t make it, you’ll still be among the stars.”

#local laws

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miekasa · 4 years

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six thirty

+ pairing: armin arlert x (fem) reader

+ genres and warnings: college au, enemies to lovers… kinda… in a very nerdy academic rivalry kind of way, me being a comedian you’re welcome, fluff, smut/nsfw content

+ word count: 5.6k… pls say sike

+ notes: shout out to ryn for listening to me during our very many rambling sessions and also for extorting me into posting this. consider it a late birthday present for my favorite menace </2

+ side notes: no i am not a part of armin nation and i never want to be, nor do i wish speak of this again.

Armin Arlert is the perfect student. Prompt and well prepared during lecture; smart and insightful during office hours; the apple of any teacher’s eye. Unfortunately for him, so are you.

If you asked Armin, you were a little too clever for your own good, and liked to make it very well known that you believe you’re the smartest person in any room you walk into. That may be true, but it doesn’t mean that he has to sit there and worship your superiority complex.

If someone asked you, you’d say that Armin was a know it all, and a manipulative little piece of shit. Again, not a completely false statement, but perhaps a slightly biased character analysis.

Neither of you are wrong. It’s why you’re both the bane of each other’s existence.

There’s a noticeable grimace on your face, chin in your palm, elbows resting atop your desk, as you turn your head to where, sure enough, Armin is seated where he always is: first row, right side, directly in front of the podium, like perfect little teacher’s pet he wants to be. He doesn’t have any books to unpack like everybody else because a shiny, blue iPad is propped up on his desk in place of all of that. He’s robably looking through his pre-written list of showboaty questions to ask during lecture. Like he’s a cut above everyone else.

Maybe some of the other morons in this course, but not you, that’s for damn sure. You bet that if you broke his thousand dollar tablet he wouldn’t think he’s such hot shit anymore. Maybe that would knock him down a couple of pegs.

“Look at him sitting there with his stupid blue eyes, and his stupid Bieber haircut, and his stupid, shiny blonde hair, and his stupid fucking glasses. I bet they’re not even real and he just wears them to—”

“Did you just call his hair shiny?”

You snap your head to your left, “What—no, of course not. I said shoddy, he’s probably a bottle blonde. Maybe all the chemicals from the hair dye seeps into his head and warps his sense of reality.”

“I’m pretty sure you said shiny.”

“Shut up, Annie.”

She raises an eyebrow at you, “You got something against blondes? Because your track record would beg to differ.”

“Once. We kissed once, and it was truth or dare, and we were both sloshed.”

“You still chose me,” she reminds you, pulling her notebook out of her backpack.

You huff, ignoring her words and turning your head back to Armin, this time finding him twirling his stupid fucking expensive Apple Pencil between his fingers like it’s nothing. You can feel your eye begin to twitch.

Perhaps he can, too—or maybe he can just feel your eyes boring holes into him—because he turns in your direction and ceases his pen twirling the moment you make eye-contact. More students filter in, walking past your line of vision, but each time they move, you and Armin meet gazes again; neither one of you daring to look away, a palpable tension between you.

His eyes might be icy blue, but you can see the rose pink tint underneath his skin, even from the distance; a familiar blush that spreads across his nose and cheeks. You exhale with a silent laugh, breaking your eye contact before he grows completely red, just in time for Dr. Zöe to start the lecture.

Everybody thinks that Armin’s so brilliant, so smart, so untouchable. You know that his only genius is that he’s fooling everyone into thinking that he’s the kind, humble, little nerd boy who wouldn’t harm a fly, when that’s far from the truth.

Armin is mean. He’s competitive and possessive and snarky and sly. He’s the definition of a wolf in sheep’s clothing, but you’re pretty sure the only person in the world who might believe that is Eren. Though, you’ve heard some of the insults Armin throws Eren’s way, and they’re not exactly soft. Granted, that’s a factor in any friendship, and most of his jabs are coated with a layer of intellect the brunette likely doesn’t understand, but that doesn’t make Armin any less sarcastic. It just means Eren’s too dumb to know what’s going on.

Poor kid. Maybe it’s for the best.

That’s all to say that Armin is nothing but a big talker—not even; a smooth-talker, is more like it. He comes across as perfect, all good and sweet and soft, because that’s what he lets people see. Nobody else looks through to the sharp tongue and ragged edges, because they’re too busy cooing over innocent blue-eyed baby in front of them.

But you know that Armin, the one he doesn’t want other people to see: the one that’s so good, he’s bad; so sweet that he’s sick; so nice that it’s cruel. And you know just how much pressure to apply to make his façade crack.

And you intend on doing so.

“I don’t know which formula to use—hey, are you two eye fucking again? Cut it out, I’m trying not to fail over here,” Eren exclaims, poking Armin’s shoulder with his pen.

The jab averts the blonde’s attention back to his friend, eyes wide as he blinks himself back to reality. He curses under his breath when he feels a familiar warmth creeping across his cheeks. Few things piss Armin off like the way he gets red in the face after thinking about you, or even just looking at you, for too long. Whether it’s red out of pure annoyance, or another feeling he tries to push down, it’s irritating, and above all, embarrassing.

He spares one more glance over his shoulder, to where you and Annie are sat a few tables away in the library. You’ve looked away by now, focusing back on your notes, but Armin swears he can still see that irritating smirk on your face from this angle.

He rolls his tongue along the inside of his cheek. He should be able to keep it together around you by now, but he can’t, and it bothers him. You bother him.

“We weren’t eye fucking,” he refutes, turning his back to you completely, “She’s such a little know it all sometimes, s’annoying.”

Eren raises an eyebrow. He knows that you and Armin don’t get along, but he doesn’t understand why. Armin knows almost all your friends, and you definitely know all of his—Eren would even go as far as to say that you and him are pretty close friends—so it’s not a matter of not spending time together. You’re also the two smartest people Eren knows. In theory you should have more than enough to talk about together, but every time you’re in the same room, you hardly acknowledge each other outside of surface level commentary, or glances that border on staring.

Thankfully, the bickering remains in the classroom for the most part. Eren’s seen you and Armin go at, and he’ll be the first to admit that it’s beyond intimidating. Though, a little part of him finds it oddly entertaining, and he can’t help but to be impressed. All the more reason for you two to start playing on the same team.

Eren thinks the two of you should get to the root of the issue already. Which, if you asked him, has very little to do with your rivaled academic genius, and a lot to do with your lack of it concerning your feelings for each other.

“She’s not that bad,” Eren vouches for you, “I think you two might get along if you ever spoke outside of trying to one-up each other in class.”

“I’m not trying to one-up anybody,” Armin rolls his eyes, a nasty habit he’s picked up as of late, “And if you stopped and used your brain for a moment, then maybe you could solve the problem.”

“I did use my brain!” Eren’s lips fall into an offended pout, “But none of this makes any sense to me! I fucking hate math, you know that.”

Armin sighs, feeling sympathetic for Eren as he slumps into himself defeatedly. He knows that Eren isn’t dumb, but math in any capacity is certainly not his strong suit. He also knows that he shouldn’t give Eren all the answers, but sometimes he needs a little push to get him there. A little bit of added guidance and motivation to keep him going. It’s either that, or he has to trick Eren into doing the work himself, but clearly that method wasn’t working out today.

“You already solved for the activation energy, now you’re supposed to use the Arrhenius equation in the expanded form.”

Eren’s lips fall into a small o-shape, as his eyes scramble across his paper again. “But—how do you—”

“There’s two measurements given for temperature.”

“Oh. Oh, yeah! Okay, right, but then—”

“You have to convert it to Kelvin first or it won’t work. It’s given to you in Celsius.”

Eren furrows his eyebrows together, and then it finally clicks for him. He mutters to himself as he puts his pencil to paper to begin to work through the problem, “How do I convert—”

“Add 273.15 to it. Make sure you put the bigger one first in the equation, or else you’ll get a negative error.”

“You didn’t even do it,” Eren huffs, angrily punching numbers into his calculator, “How do you know it’s right?”

“Because I took this class already,” Armin reminds him, sparing a brief glance over his shoulder, “Isn’t that why I’m tutoring you?”

Eren coughs over his embarrassed blush, “Oh, yeah, right.”

It’s quiet between them as Eren makes a final attempt at solving the equation, carefully and proudly circling his answer when he’s finished. He looks to Armin with bright eyes, and is content when the blonde gives him a reassuring nod, confirming that his answer is correct.

“Well that was a bitch to work through,” Eren sighs, stretching his arms behind his head with a slight yawn, “Chemistry is nothing but glorified math. It’s barely a science.”

Armin shrugs, but he doesn’t disagree. He isn’t the biggest fan of chemistry, unlike somebody else he knows. “Why’d you take chem if you knew it would have so much math?”

It’s Eren’s turn to shrug, slumping back in his chair and running a hand through his hair, “I gotta take all the pre-med requirements… just in case.”

“You wanna go to med school? Since when?”

Eren averts his eyes from his friend, a telltale sign of his bashfulness coming over him. It doesn’t happen often, but Armin knows it’s sincere when it does.

“Dunno. I’m not sure of it, just wanna keep my options open, you know?” Eren replies casually, “Doctors help make a difference and all that, and surgery looks kind of cool. Besides, if my bastard father could do it, how hard could it really be?”

A gentle smile grows on Armin’s lips, “You can do it. If you really want to, I know you can.”

Eren’s head snaps up, eyes wide and filled with affirmation and adoration. He relaxes his expression quickly after, but the pink hues are still present, “Thanks, Min.”

From his position he catches eye of another head of familiar blonde hair over Armin’s shoulder, and beside it, your own hair. There’s a flash of a moment when your eyes meet Eren’s, and you offer him a small wave before turning back to Annie to resume doing your homework. Eren barely gets the chance to wave back, but a dopey smile sits on his features at your kind gesture. It fades when he looks back to Armin, once again pondering the animosity between you two.

You and Armin aren’t all that different, you just need to get to know each other better. Actually, Eren thinks that you might make a good couple if you both stopped overthinking it.

“So, what’s the deal with you and (_____)?” Eren asks, bending his right knee to wrap his arm around his leg and rest his chin on top of it, “You act like she kicked your cat.”

“What?” Armin questions, flustered, “What—no, she wouldn’t touch Soup.”

Eren quirks an eyebrow at that. “I still can’t believe you named your cat Soup.”

“It’s technically a nickname.”

“A nickname for what?”

“…For Miso Soup.”

Eren blinks. “Okay, if she didn’t mess with Soup, then what’s the issue? You scared of her or something?”

“Why would I be scared of her?” Armin asks, tone incredulous; then softer, more subdued, like a kid who doesn’t want to admit they’re wrong, “’M not scared of her.”

“You stare at her like you are—well, you look kind of angry, but also scared. Like, when you see those balloon things outside of car washes. You hate them, but you can’t look away from them—”

“I am not scared of those!”

“You are, and it’s okay,” Eren waves away his friend’s denial, “Oh, I get it—is this one of those things where she makes you nervous, so you respond with anger and sarcasm instead of thinking through your feelings?”

“You’ve been going to therapy for one month, relax.”

“Maybe you two should go to friend therapy and work this out,” Eren bites back, “It probably doesn’t help that she’s always with Annie. They both look like they would murder someone with no remorse. I admit, it is kind of scary… but it’s kind of hot, too.”

Armin spares him an unamused glare. Eren crosses his arms in defense, “What? I’m not wrong. It’s sexy in a scary kind of way, maybe that’s why you’re always eye fucking. I don’t blame you, she’s hot. I would let her and Annie axe-murder me without regret.”

“Eren?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up and do problem six, I don’t have all day.”

Eren huffs, but flips the page to the next problem, grumbling under his breath as he attempts the, “It’s not as sexy when you’re mean, you know.”

Armin hits him silent.

Tuesdays are Armin’s favorite days because he only has one class. Sure, it’s three hours long, but it’s much more bearable than his usual eight-hour day.

It’s also the one class he shares with you. Which is why he’s always mentally exhausted by the end of it, but physically, he feels like he could punch a wall; all his pent up anger and frustration is channeled into his body and he’s desperate for an outlet for it. It’s a feeling he hates to love.

Annie seems to have cut class today seeing as she’s not next to you; and it’s almost as if it’s emboldened you to mess with him even more than usual.

He bites his tongue as Dr. Zöe enthusiastically uses your latest point as a segue into the final topic of the evening. He made that same point ten minutes ago. You just worded it differently—admittedly, more concisely, but somehow with a little more nuance, than when he had hesitantly proposed it—and, yeah, maybe you made it sound more convincing, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t come up with it first. If his stupid, fancy stylus didn’t cost upwards of $200 he might have snapped it in half.

You’re definitely the better conversationalist, that much he can admit. Words have never been his forte and he hates the way you can talk circles around him, and that there’s so little he can say to make you stop.

He wishes you would just shut up. In fact, he’d like to shut you up himself.

Thankfully, class ends sooner rather than later. Armin finds himself briefly talking with Dr. Zöe afterwards, most other students having taken the opportunity to leave early for the night. To nobody’s surprise, you’re not one of them, having stuck around to talk to the professor, too.

“The two of you should consider lab research this summer,” Dr. Zöe suggests ardently, walking between the two of you as you exit the lecture hall, “I could really use two students like you!”

Armin chuckles at his boisterous professor. He’s known about the research opportunities at their lab for quite some time now, and he knows that you have, too. “I don’t know that lab work is really my strong suit.”

The three of you come to stop at the hallway intersection, the professor now standing across from you and him. You give them a polite smile, “And I’m not sure that collaboration is mine.”

Armin spares a glance just in time to see you flash one of your own in his direction. Dr. Zöe’s eyes flicker between the two students rapidly, a slight squint to their eyelids.

They aren’t quite sure why their two brightest students seem to despise each other. They wish you two would just get along already, so that they don’t have to spend the summer training half-witted chemical engineering majors how to use basic lab equipment; and instead, conduct some actual research.

“Well, I hope the both of you reconsider,” they smile, “I’ll see you during office hours, I presume?”

You two nod in sync, sending the doctor off with happy smile, just long enough until you see that they’ve turned the corner further down the hall

“Had fun stealing my point earlier?” Armin questions, looking your way as you still wave mindlessly, eye-twitching at your polite façade.

“I would call it improvement,” you tell him, not bothering to turn in his direction; still and smiling waving like the professor can see or hear you, “You should stick to showing, rather than saying. You never were good with your words.”

Armin kisses his teeth together. He’ll give you what you want, if that’s how you want it.

In a fit of irritation, he grabs your moving hand by the wrist, and pulls you down the opposite hallway, not caring for your dramatic wailing behind him.

“Hey, Einstein, the exit is the other way, do you have any idea where we’re going?”

“Ever heard of observational learning? Maybe if you shut up for a second, you would figure it out,” he snaps, pulling you further.

There’s a door on the left that Armin knows is unlocked, and he’s quick to open it and pull you inside. Before you have the chance to glance around, he has you pushed up against the wall, jaw forced up and forward.

He could scoff at the small hitch in your breath at his actions, clearly a little too satisfied with being manhandled; but instead, he takes the opportunity to press your lips together. Armin quite likes the feeling of your lips on his; warm and soft and far too welcoming; a rare moment of silence.

“Someone could hear us.”

Or not so silent.

“Then be quiet,” he snarls.

Armin feels your fingers weave themselves into his hair, scraping along his undercut in sync with his lips trailing down your jaw. A groan falls from his when he feels you tug at the ends of the strands, just hard enough to force his face back to eye level with yours.

“You’re the one with the big mouth.”

“You’re so smart, huh. Always got something to say,” Armin lets out a low chuckle, deft fingers running down your sides to squeeze at your waist, “You can be really fuckin’ annoying, you know that.”

You mirror half of his ministrations, letting your right hand trail down his chest barely brushing over the very visible bulge in his jeans, before hooking your index finger under the belt loop, effectively pulling him closer to you.

The smile on your face is dirty, but you’re not laughing like he was, “Do something about it then.”

His blue eyes grow cloudy as he takes a good look at you; slowly rakes over your features, from that stupid, snarky look in your eyes, to your kiss-bruised lips, down to your chest, and back up again. Armin finds himself copying your smirk for all the wrong reasons. But it’s your own fault; you always did like to push him one step over the edge.

“Fine.”

Despite your twisted grin there’s a look in your eyes that’s eager; willing; ready for the taking. That same look you have when you talk over him in class; when you pretend to ignore him around your mutual friends; when you want him to fuck you stupid.

Armin uses his right hand to cup your jaw again, closing the distance between your mouths with a less than gentle kiss. He feels your groans reverberating through his body, waves of heat accompanying them and going straight to his erection. Your arch your back into the kiss, but he forces you backwards, left hand flat against your tummy.

Following suit, he pushes himself against your body, pressing his knee between your legs; the thin fabric of your stockings doing little to prevent your thighs from rubbing against him.

He swipes his tongue over the seam of your lips, earning a frenzied whine when glides his tongue across yours, and teasingly licks at the roof of your mouth. Your tongue is lithe against his, but somehow just as deceptive and sly as always, and Armin would be a fool to deny that he loved it.

There’s a spark flickering in his stomach when you push your center harshly against his; and it’s only ignited further when he feels you bite his bottom lip. A guttural growl escapes him, his right hand moving to your throat with practiced ease, pushing the back of your head into the wall.

He pauses for a moment, drinks in your wide eyes and desperate visage, “You are the single most frustrating person I’ve ever met in my entire life.”

And he couldn’t get enough of it if he tried. He couldn’t get enough of you.

You must see through his words, into the grainy expression of adoration in his eyes, because he can see it filtering into yours, pupils dilating with both want and care.

“Aw, baby, I love you, too,” you pout, leaning forward as best to can to peck him on the lips, “Now, shut me up and fuck me. It’s exhausting being this pretty and smart-mouthed, you know.”

Armin dips his head into your neck, squeezes against the column of your throat with warning until he hears a gasp escape from your lips. He presses gentle kisses into your skin, in stark contrast to the increasing pressure from his fingers, waiting for one last request, and then, finally—“Please.”

He smiles, loosens his grip for a moment, just long enough to hear your pretty panting, before slotting his lips against yours again. Your moans are lewd and sloppy and breathless between kisses, and it makes his dick twitch in his pants. You really are so fucking loud. And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

He uses his free hand to push your skirt up, and subsequently dip past the weak barrier of your tights and underwear. The slightest flicker of his fingers against your center has you choking out a moan, and Armin is forced to press his right thumb harder against your neck.

“Quiet,” he reminds you, “You asked nicely, so I’ll give you what you want. No need to be loud about it.”

He watches you nod with short and restricted movements, a sadistic kind of power washing over him at your eager compliance. He uses his middle finger to rub slow, careful circles around your clit; the feeling of your wet cunt against his fingers, coupled with your wanton moaning only spurs on the throbbing in his pants.

“Armin,” you whine, impatiently; but he expected that of you, “Don’t tease.”

His eyes flash to yours briefly, pressing his lips to yours again to swallow your shuddered moans. He dips his tongue into your mouth at the same time he does his middle finger into your cunt. An obscene moan echoing through the classroom, as Armin feels your body arching into his again; feels your fingers frantically flying to his hair, searching for purchase to anchor yourself on.

He pulls away in time to add another digit and watch you groan underneath him. He pushes both his fingers in to the knuckle, carefully curling them upwards to elicit the prettiest sound out of you. He has to admit, it’s probably his favorite thing to hear come out of your mouth.

He keeps a steady pace, pumping his fingers in and out of your pussy with perfect friction, teetering between letting you moan his name and choking you silent. Your hands are frantic in his hair, grasping and pulling and so, so, desperate, Armin can’t help but to finger fuck you harder.

“You want one more?” he questions, but his voice is taunting, words ghosted over your lips just out of reach for you to kiss.

He can feel your leg trembling against his, see you pupils shaking along with your shaking head. Armin stops to smile; he thought you might do that. He could probably make you cry right now if he wanted to. Maybe later.

“Want you to fuck me,” your words short and ragged, eyebrows raised when he uses his thumb to press lightly against your clit, “Armin, please.”

The blonde shakes his head, “You’re dumber than you look if you think I’m gonna fuck you in a classroom, baby, so if you want to cum now, you better tell me.”

You have the audacity to pout of all things, “You’re mean.”

Armin lets out a breathless laugh. “You like it,” he leans forward to peck you sweetly, “So, what’ll it be?”

“Fine, but I want head later, too,” you tell him, words becoming less firm when Armin teases his ring finger against your slit, “Please.”

Armin hums in compliance, leaning forward to kiss you again, this time with more tact, and he chases your whines when he finally pushes a third finger inside of you.

“Look at you,” he croons breaking your kiss and forcing your head back again, “You take it so well.”

“Ah—fuck, there, Armin—there,” you cry, wet heat squeezing around his fingers in intermittent spasms.

Armin watches your chest heave with desperate breaths, air stuttering to pass from your lips to your lungs with his hand around your neck. He can feel your walls constricting around his fingers, feel your body shaking underneath him when he increases his pace. He curls his fingers again, just right, just until he hears you sing a strained call of his name. And when he feels your nails scraping down the nape of his neck, and the slight weight of your body convulsing, Armin knows you’re done for.

He’s nice enough to fuck you through your orgasm, shallow thrusts of his fingers bringing you to and down from your high as he watches you pant for him. He presses small kisses against your throat, up, up, up, until he’s kissing you, and carefully pulling his fingers out.

He removes his hand from your neck, and slides it down your waist to offer you support. He’s not prepared for your sudden pull on his neck, forcing him into a kiss that conveys your content; he’s quick to raise his left hand, palm meeting the wall to hold himself up against your sporadic actions, chuckling lightly into your kiss. You were always so reckless and happy after an orgasm.

You kiss him like you have him wrapped your finger despite being the one pleading moments ago. You do, so he supposes it’s not unwarranted; and he welcomes your flirtatious kisses despite the annoying blush they always bring forth.

And sure enough, he can feel his face on fire when you pull away. Armin scoffs internally at himself; he really should be able to keep it together around you by now. But when you kiss him like that, you kind of make it hard to think straight.

“You’re so good when you’re not… pretending to be good,” you hum, a blissful, hazy look on your features as you wrap your arms around his neck.

Armin shakes his head with a chortle of disbelief; leans forward to kiss you again, “’M not pretending. I am good.”

“Yeah, you’re such a good little saint that arguing with your girlfriend turns you on,” you taunt him, “It’s okay, Armin, you can admit it.”

He groans, out of shallow annoyance this time, and it makes you giggle. “Why are you acting like you’re not complicit in this?”

“Oh, no, no, no,” you refute with an exaggerated roll of your eyes, “You get turned on by hearing me talk about biochemistry. I like it when you tell me to shut up about it. We are not the same.”

“Yeah, because you look hot doing it,” he tells you, “Speaking of which, Eren called you hot today, so I kind of need you to slip a neurotoxin in his Gatorade.”

“Aw, Eren thinks I’m hot? Tell him I think he’s hot, too,” you bat your eyelashes at him, but Armin only offers you an unimpressed glare in return.

“I think he might be onto us, actually,” Armin notes, affectionately bumping his nose against yours.

“If he’s onto us, then it’s because you’re the one giving it away, not me.”

“Oh, because you could never do anything wrong, right?”

“Right,” you flash him an overconfident smile before reaching up to kiss to the tip of his nose, “See you’re so smart, baby.”

Armin shakes his head again in disbelief. You’re a handful, he can see that much.

“Come on,” he prompts, “We should go, I still have to finish my lab write up, and I know you haven’t started your paper.”

Armin tries to motion you forward, but is stopped when he feels your hand combing through his hair, and sees the genuine spark of concern in your eyes. “The one for your elective? I thought you said you were going to finish it on Monday.”

“I was,” Armin admits, “But then I didn’t.”

“You want me to help you with it?” you offer kindly, pushing his bangs back and letting your hands fall down the sides of his face, palms resting against his ears.

He nods gently, turning his head to press a kiss into your left palm, before wrapping his hand around your wrist, “I can help you outline your paper.”

You nod in return, and Armin spares one more kiss, before pulling your hand away to lace your fingers together.

Thankfully, nobody’s around to catch you exiting the classroom, or see you holding hands as you make your way out of the building and towards the bus stop. This was Armin’s favorite part of any Tuesday; the one time he could hold your hand on campus without the fear of getting caught by your friends.

He reasons that you guys should probably tell them soon, though, especially if Eren might have an idea of what’s going on. You were bound to get caught sooner rather than later. That, or Eren and Sasha would start meddling.

“If you think Eren knows, then Mikasa definitely knows,” you note, swinging your intertwined hands as you walk through the parking lot as a shortcut.

“Maybe if you actually remembered to hide Soup’s toys, there would be less evidence for her to piece together.”

“Yeah, well, maybe if you didn’t forget when your midterms are, I wouldn’t have to emergency cat sit the hour before Mikasa comes around, and there wouldn’t be any toys to hide in the first place.”

“I’m bad with dates, you know that!” Armin pouts, “I don’t say anything when you forget about ten page papers until four hours before they’re due.”

“You’re saying something right now, actually.”

“That’s not what I—you know, you’re so—”

Armin’s quiet when he feels your lips pressed against his cheekily, “Annoying. I know. You like it. You’re not very good at staying mad for very long.”

Armin’s tempted to roll his eyes yet again—he really needs to quit it, or at the very least, get your own temper under control before it’s irreversible and completely rubbed off on him—but takes the opportunity to kiss your forehead, instead.

“You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Your eyes twinkle under his affections. “And that you love me?”

He nods, “And that I love you.”

“And that you’re gonna fuck me before you make me write my paper when we get home, right?”

Armin chuckles and presses another kiss to your forehead, “We’ll see about that one.”

Hange huffs as they make their way through the parking. They always forget their keys in their office, and always, inconveniently park half-way across the campus. In their defense, this parking lot is free, and the one closest to the Medical Sciences building is not. So, really, capitalism is the one to blame for their frequent late night car lot strolls.

They hear two familiar voices bickering just as they’re about to step into their car, and are more than surprised to see their two favorite students walking together. Walking together and holding hands. Wait—you and Armin are walking together and holding hands?

Hange blinks for a moment, drowning out the sounds of the conversation after they see you two kiss. Their jaw practically falls to the asphalt and they might not blink for a full two minutes as they process what they just saw.

Their trance is broken when it finally, finally clicks together, and Hange has to try their hardest to contain their squeals before sitting in the driver’s seat, an overly forceful slam to the car door following. They waste no time fumbling with the pockets of their lab coat to fish out their phone, and make a call to their favorite math professor.

“Levi, I told you Arlert and (_____) had to know each other outside of class! I think they might be dating! You know what this means, right? I can have them both in the same lab without worrying they might start a chemical fire, and I won’t have to hire two brick heads this summer!”

Levi has never hung up a call more quickly in his life.

#aot x reader #snk x reader #armin x reader #aot imagines #snk imagines #armin smut #armin fluff #eren x reader

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mjolnir-steve · 3 years

Text

Foolish

Frank Adler x fem!Reader

Word count: 5027 (oop)

Warnings: light drinking, very brief mention of suicide, some cursing, smut (18+ ONLY!!!), unprotected sex (m/f) ... Please let me know if I missed anything!

A/N: Hi, y’all! Here’s my entry for @stargazingfangirl18 and @navybrat817’s Shameless Hoes for Chris Challenge!!!! I haven’t written smut in a LONG time, so please be gentle with me LOL. Here’s what I got:

Frank Adler

“I didn’t like the way he was looking at you.”

Breeding / mutual pining 🥴

I’d like to dedicate this to @rodrikstark for always sharing the Frank Adler feels and @sparkledfirecracker for bullying me (with love) into finishing this. ❤️

If you like this fic, please comment and reblog!!! I hope you enjoy. :)

Fridays never seemed to come soon enough. You looked forward to the beginning of the weekend as much as the next person, but over the last few months, Friday nights took on new meaning for you. You moved to the trailer park a little less than a year ago, wanting to buy a small place of your own and start making a home for yourself. It wasn’t perfect, but it wasn’t expensive, and it was only a ten-minute drive from your office where you’d just secured a promotion. Roberta, the manager, helped you make it feel like home right away, insisting on going with you to pick out paint samples and providing copies of menus for the best take-out in the area.

Before long, Roberta introduced you to the trailer park’s resident certified genius, Mary Adler. Mary and Roberta spent Saturday mornings with you when you were free, which unfortunately, was pretty much all the time. You played games, sang karaoke, and even let Mary’s one-eyed cat Fred come over. He took a liking to your swinging chair in the living room, and if Mary couldn’t find him at home, odds were he somehow squeezed through your window and ended up in that chair.

Another two months had passed, though, before you met Mary’s uncle and guardian, Frank. You came to learn that Mary stayed with Roberta every Friday night because “Frank needs time to be an adult” and she was not allowed to come back to the house until noon on Saturdays. This information made you feel like Frank must be some kind of sad, perpetual fuckboy. You were right about the sad part, not so much about the latter. One morning while Mary played with your watercolors, Roberta let slip - ironically over a cup of tea - that Frank did have the occasional hookup, but usually, he drank himself sleepy on Friday nights and just needed the time to himself. He worked himself to the bone as a boat mechanic, often late into the night because it was too hot to do some jobs during the day. Frank took Mary in when she was just a baby after his sister, her mother, tragically committed suicide. He spent the majority of his scarce free time with Mary, so when Mary was still a toddler, Roberta offered the Friday night deal. Frank countered that he would do any repairs in the trailer park for free, but she refused to let him do that work without pay, saying he deserved to have a life, too.

She also informed you that Frank was a former philosophy professor, single, and very attractive, especially if you were into the rugged thing. You rolled your eyes with an amused exhale and took another sip of your tea. You’d be lying if you said your interest wasn’t piqued. Mary then shouted over her shoulder, confirming that she’d been listening to your entire conversation, “Frank is great, but he’s a grump. Good luck cracking that egg.” You snorted, nearly spitting out your tea, and she went back to reading your color theory book to Fred.

With that, you heard a sharp rap at the door. You set your tea down on the kitchen table, curious who your visitor might be. You didn’t know anyone else in the trailer park, or in town, really. You opened the door, taking in the sight of possibly - no, definitely - the most handsome man you’d ever seen. You quickly guessed it was Frank, judging by the grease smeared on his quite large hands. His eyes, though tired, had the same bright look as Mary’s, and he had the most perfectly imperfect fluffy hair and overgrown stubble.

“Good morning,” he said with a sweet, closed-mouthed smile. “Is Mary here?”

You had to remind yourself to breathe. Stammering, you opened the door wider, gesturing inside. “Hi, y-yes. She is!” Why am I like this? “She’s just painting with Fred. Please, come in.” You moved aside so he could fit his broad shoulders through the doorframe and then held out your hand. “You must be Frank. I’m Y/N. Mary is just wonderful.” You smiled at him, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks.

He took your hand in both of his, gentler than you’d expected. “I’m sorry. Yes, I’m Frank. It’s great to meet you, finally.” He smiled wide for the first time and you were certain you’d pass out. Who LOOKS like this? “And thank you, she really is wonderful. I couldn’t do it without Roberta. She’s family.” He smiled and waved at Roberta, who was looking at you over the lip of her mug.

Mary didn’t even bother to turn around and face Frank. “What are you doing here, Frank? It’s only 11. I have a whole ‘nother hour with my friends.” You tried to keep your laugh quiet, covering your mouth with your hand and shaking your head.

“Well, excuse me for thinking you might like to go out on the boat with me this morning. I guess I’ll go by myself.”

Mary jumped up from the floor, scrambling to clean up your paints and books. “Can Y/N and Roberta come?”

Frank crouched down to meet Mary’s eyes. “Of course they can, if they’d like.” He looked back at you over his shoulder, trying to gauge your interest, then turning back to his niece. “But do you remember what I told you?”

You could see that Mary was making a conscious effort not to roll her eyes. “You told me that my adult friends have adult lives that include adult responsibilities, and they might not always be available to spend time with me.”

“And?” he looked at her expectantly.

“And I need to invite them to do things without assuming they will do them.” She couldn’t hold back her eye roll any longer, but she made sure not to let Frank see. “Roberta, Y/N, would you both like to join us on the boat today?”

You were amazed by the exchange taking place in front of you, able to see where some of Mary’s brains and tenacity came from. The conversation between the two flowed so easily, playful yet intelligent. It was clear that Frank treated Mary not as a child, but as a person, and you chided yourself internally for thinking that was kinda hot.

Shaking yourself out of your mildly inappropriate thoughts, you responded. “I’d love to come, Mary.” You smiled at her, bending over to help her pick up the last of the paints from the floor. “Roberta?”

Roberta gave you a look and you just knew she planned this somehow. “I actually do have some of those adult responsibilities to handle today, but thank you for inviting me.” You sent a glare in her direction, quick but no less scathing. “Maybe next time.” She winked at you before washing out her mug and saying her goodbyes.

You spent the whole rest of the day and night with Frank and Mary, doing everything from building sandcastles to cooking dinner together. Mary eventually fell asleep in your lap as you were watching Oliver & Company, Frank’s favorite Disney film that had become Mary’s, too. “An underrated classic,” they told you in unison.

You helped Frank put Mary to bed, a task made easier after such a tiring day. “I guess I should get going.” You stood awkwardly in the small kitchen, unsure of yourself and painfully aware of how close your hand was to Frank’s resting on the counter.

“Yeah, I have a job early in the morning.” He looked down at his shoes, unable to look you in the eye, and you wondered if he hadn’t found your company as enjoyable as you’d found his.

“Listen, I don’t know if you’ve been to Ferg’s? The little bar down the road? I go every Friday night just to relax and have a few beers. Maybe you’d like to come with me next weekend?”

Is he asking me on a date? You could feel your heartbeat racing. The look on your face must not have matched the excitement you felt at the prospect of spending time alone with the dreamy, kind, sarcastic man in front of you.

He felt like an idiot when you hesitated to answer. He clearly read everything wrong. He had to fix this. “It’s a good place to meet people, you know? I know you’re fairly new to the area, so if you’re looking for more local friends, it’s a good place to start.” He winced, hoping you couldn’t sense his embarrassment at thinking that you would want to go on a date with him.

You swallowed, trying not to let your disappointment show outwardly. Of course he’s not interested in me. Stupid. “Oh, yeah! That would be great, Frank. What time?”

Frank let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, relieved that you didn’t seem offended by his offer. “How’s 7? I’ll pick you up? We can walk over together.”

And that’s how Fridays came to mean so much to you. Almost every Friday for the last six months, Frank met you at your door and you walked to Ferg’s together. Frank told you it would be a good place to make new friends, but you paid no mind to the other patrons. You only had eyes for each other, yet neither of you could see it, even though Roberta pointed out (repeatedly) that neither of you had taken anyone else home in all that time.

The more time you spent with Frank, the more certain you were that God was real and your life was His favorite trainwreck reality TV series. Even if you could have customized a dream man Build-A-Bear style, Frank still would blow your creation out of the water. He was smart and funny, not to mention an adoring parent to Mary, to whom you grew more attached each day. He was kind and thoughtful, talented and hard-working. Although he was a grouch, as Mary would say, he always was sweet to you. He took a genuine interest in anything you had to say, whether you were venting about work or filling him on the latest episode of whatever show you were binging. He was ridiculously sexy without even trying. All those hours he spent doing manual labor in the sun did wonders for his physique. You’d only seen him completely shirtless on one occasion, and the image of him with sweat dripping down his chest was burned into your memory, fueling your late-night thots and causing you to break out your vibrator on what was now a regular basis.

Six months had come and gone in the blink of an eye, and you’d begun to accept that Frank didn’t want to be anything more than friends with you. You decided tonight was as good a night as any to talk to someone new, to start letting go of your unrequited feelings.

You swapped out your usual jeans for a sundress, t-shirt bra for a push-up, and lip balm for lipstick. Putting your phone and some cash in a wristlet, you considered wearing your new strappy sandals. The walk to Ferg’s was about five minutes each way down a sandy road, though, and memories of the sticky floor inside aided your preferred pair of Converse in their victory for the night.

Just as you finished tying your shoes, you heard a knock at the door. You adjusted your cleavage and fluffed your hair a final time with one last look in the mirror. Here goes.

Frank felt like he had the wind knocked out of him in the best possible way. He suddenly felt entirely underdressed in his aloha shirt, even though it was his go-to for nights out of the house. He’d never seen you dressed so nicely when you weren’t going to work.

You were the kind of beautiful that didn’t require makeup. Your natural hair always framed your face perfectly, even if you didn’t think so. He thought you were adorable when you were concentrating on something, blowing your hair out of your face with a huff. Visions of your soft curves made their way into Frank’s dreams on more than one occasion. He had seen you in your swimsuit several times, sunbathing with Roberta and swimming with Mary at the beach. It wasn’t even all that revealing, but it accentuated your figure in ways that forced Frank into needing a cold shower or two. Above all, though, he admired your heart. You’d allowed Mary into your life without hesitation, spending time with her because you wanted to and allowing her to ask all those questions that Frank just wouldn’t be able to answer. It killed him that you didn’t see him the way he saw you, a perfect partner for him and a worthy maternal figure for Mary.

“Frank? You okay?” Your concerned voice shook him out of his thoughts, prompting him to close his mouth which apparently had opened wide in astonishment when you stood in the doorway.

“Yeah, um... You look…” He looked a little confused, his brow furrowed and lips pursed. “Why are you all dolled up? It’s only Ferg’s.” He wished he could’ve kicked himself in the teeth when your face fell at his question. He rubbed a hand over his face. “Shit. Let me try that again,” he nearly begged, running up to you to stop you from going back inside. “You look really nice, honey.” He ran his calloused hand up your forearm, but quickly returned it to his side when he realized what he’d done. “Is it a special occasion, though? Should I change?”

You gave him a watery smile, given that you were three seconds from slamming the door in his face and crying. “That’s better. Thank you.” You lightly pushed at his shoulder, trying and failing to ignore the electricity you felt at the contact. “No occasion, though. Just thought maybe it was about time I actually introduced myself to someone new.”

You couldn’t quite read his reaction. Little did you know he was certain he just felt his heart physically crack in his chest. “What do you mean?”

The two of you started walking, the tension between you thickening the very air you breathed. “Well, when you first invited me to Ferg’s, you said maybe I’d get to know some other people in the area, right? But we’re always with each other. I’m sure you’re itching to talk to someone other than me. I don’t want to hold you back.”

“Ah. Gotcha.” Frank abruptly reverted to the quiet, distant state he usually occupied before he met you. He sped up a bit, walking ahead of you and desperately attempting to school his features before you caught up with him.

Frank practically ran to the restroom, not slowing down even to hold the door open for you. You took a deep breath and rolled your shoulders, relaxing before entering the bar. Normally, whoever made it first would order drinks for you both, but Frank made it painfully clear that he had no desire to be in your company tonight. You ordered your usual, an Angry Orchard with a shot of Fireball in a tall glass. The combination tasted like apple cider, but the burn in your throat was caused by liquor rather than heat. It was strong enough to get you buzzed, but not so strong that you’d be stumbling home. You swallowed half the glass in one gulp, wanting to feel the warmth in your veins boosting your confidence as quickly as possible.

“Y/N? How are you?” You turned around, eyes meeting those of Jamie, your coworker. He leaned in for a hug and you accepted somewhat reluctantly, having interacted with him only in passing.

“Hey! I’m all right. What’s up?” You smiled at him, taking another sip of your drink. Jamie was not very subtly staring at your chest. You weren’t crazy about him, but the attention felt nice, so you allowed it.

“Not much. Just happy it’s Friday, ya know?” He looked around for a moment before returning his attention to you. “You’re usually here with that mechanic dude, right?”

You stifled a laugh thinking about how Frank would react if he heard himself referred to as “dude” by this prick. “Yeah, he’s around somewhere. We’re just-“

“-Just friends?” he finished for you with a hopeful look.

You nodded in response, looking him up and down. He was no Frank, but you couldn’t deny he was handsome. It had been so long since you’d even been kissed, and though you hated to admit it, you were touch-starved. One night couldn’t hurt, could it?

Meanwhile, Frank was splashing his face with cool water. He couldn’t believe he’d fucked up so royally. He was sure you didn’t want him how he wanted you, and now he was sure it was too late to tell you how he really felt.

He knew from the moment he saw you that he’d never get you out of his head. Roberta had been talking you up to Frank for weeks, but he wanted no part of it, mumbling something about there being “a reason why no one used matchmakers anymore.” He had no choice but to make your acquaintance when he was looking for Mary, and he’d never been so happy that Roberta could say she told him so.

Later that day at the beach, Mary approached him while you were dozing on a towel in the sand. She sat on his lap and reached for his face, using her pointer fingers to turn the straight line of his mouth up into a smile. “Roberta says you have a ‘charming’ smile, Frank. We think you should use it more.” He chuckled quietly, careful not to disturb you, and pulled Mary in close, planting a wet kiss on her cheek. She grimaced at the feeling, dramatically wiping at her face until he let her go back to reading with Fred.

The sound of the jukebox starting up cut short his reverie. He had to get out there and explain himself. Frank dried his face and hands with a paper towel before smacking his cheeks and stretching his neck back and forth to each shoulder.

Frank exited the restroom only to find some douchebag staring at your ass as you leaned over toward the bar. He saw red when the piece of shit held out his hand behind his back while his friend slipped a twenty-dollar bill into it, seemingly winning some sort of bet.

Jamie didn’t stand a chance when Frank stormed in between the two of you. “That’s IT,” he yelled, so intense he borderline bellowed. He threw whatever cash he had in his pocket on the bar to pay for your drinks before he pulled you outside, almost getting to your door while you fought against his grip. He only stopped when you spun your body around like something out of Dancing with the Stars and jumped in front of him, forcing him to catch you.

“Jesus Christ, Y/N, what are y-”

“-What are YOU doing, Frank? What the fuck was that?” You put your feet back down on the ground but remained facing him, arms crossed over your chest.

He groaned in frustration, suddenly realizing he actually had no clue how to respond. “Fuck.”

You looked at him, tapping your foot in anticipation.

“I didn’t like the way he was looking at you.” He rubbed at his temples in the way he did when he felt a headache coming on.

“And how was he looking at me, Frank? What does it matter to you?”

“He was looking at you like you were a piece of meat and I… FUCK!”

You both turned when your neighbor opened his window. “Can you kids keep it down out here?”

You waved bashfully at the old man. “Sorry, Mr. Parker,” you said in unison.

“Come inside, Frankie.” The nickname that typically made him roll his eyes at you never had sounded sweeter, now that its use confirmed you didn’t hate him for the scene he made. You both toed off your shoes at the door before you made your way into the living room, motioning for him to sit next to you on the couch when he tried to sit in the armchair across the room.

You leaned forward, pinching his chin between your thumb and forefinger. “Now what’s going on in that sun-damaged brain of yours?”

He let out a laugh so soft you almost missed it, but you were glad you didn’t. Sitting back against the arm of the couch, you pulled a pillow into your lap and hugged it, giving Frank your full attention.

Frank cleared his throat, doing his best to accept that it was now or never. “That guy was leering at you, and it pissed me off. You deserve better, Y/N.” He pried your fingers from where they were locked around the pillow to hold your hands in his.

“If you want to meet new people, that’s great. If you don’t want to be with me, that’s a little less great, but I’d understand. He didn’t even pay for your drinks. And I th-”

You covered his mouth with one of your hands, and he knitted his brows in confusion. “You’re making it sound like it’s an option to be with you.” You were in disbelief, side-eyeing him, waiting for Ashton Kutcher to announce that you were, in fact, being Punk’d.

The corners of his mouth lifted into the soft smile he reserved for you. It was the same one he gave you whether you were on a tangent about how “Obsessed” by Mariah Carey is “the single greatest diss track of all time” or you were helping Mary put a harness and leash on Fred “just to see how he’d do” on a walk.

“For a distinguished professor, you’re kind of a dummy, Frank.” You took his face in your hands, thrilled to be feeling his stubble against your palms. Before he could talk back to you, you kissed him, unsure how you denied yourselves such a simple yet extraordinary pleasure for so long. It only took a moment for him to relax into it, his hands removing the pillow between you before finding your waist and pulling you almost into his lap.

You deepened the kiss, threading your fingers through his hair. He pulled away first, pressing his forehead to yours. “Seems like we’re both dummies, huh?”

You were going to ask why pulled away until you looked down to see a considerable tent forming in the front of his jeans. You laughed as he pulled you into a tight hug, one arm wrapped around you while the other hand held your face against his neck.

You kissed the side of his neck softly before leaning back to look at him. “All this time? I thought you didn’t see me this way.” You held his face, stroking his cheeks with your thumbs. “You asked me to go to Ferg’s and then said I could meet other people, so I thought that was it, you know?”

He covered your hands with his and pecked your lips softly. “Honey, I thought it was the other way around. I was trying to ask you out and you looked like you’d seen a ghost.” You giggled, spluttering a bit because tears had started falling at some point. He wiped your tears away before swiping his thumb over your bottom lip, pulling it down a bit. “We’re fools, aren’t we?”

You nodded slowly and Frank saw something wicked flash in your eyes before you took his thumb in your mouth, sucking lightly. “Jesus, honey.” His length hardened underneath you and you could feel the wetness beginning to pool in your panties, prompting you to grind down into his lap.

You released his thumb from your mouth, pressing your chest into his before kissing him again. “I think we’re only fools if we don’t take advantage of the rest of your adult time.” You removed your dress easily, returning your hands to Frank’s shoulders to push off his shirt.

He surged forward to kiss you again, working magic with his tongue against yours. You wrapped your legs around his waist and he picked you up, walking you into the bedroom. Placing you on the bed carefully, he removed your bra and panties before pulling off his boxers and jeans in one go. You thought you wanted him before, but now that you could see everything he’d been hiding under his baggy clothes, you didn’t see how you could ever let him leave your bedroom.

The next few minutes were spent exploring each other’s mouths while Frank stretched you with his fingers. You didn’t think you’d ever been so wet in your life and thought you might pass out if you didn’t feel him inside you immediately. You gave his cock a few strokes before sliding his head through your folds, coating him in your slick.

“Waitwaitwait, honey. Do you have a condom?”

“You don’t need one if you don’t want one. It’s okay.”

He looked like you just gave him tomorrow’s winning lotto numbers, taking a deep breath to steady himself before he looked at you again. “Oh, God. Are you sure?”

“Mhm. I wanna feel you. Make me yours?”

“Anything you want, honey, but if you change your mind, just tell me, okay?” He lined himself up, seconds shy of entering you for the first time.

“I figured if you were gonna be possessive of me tonight, you might as well take it the whole nine, Frankie.” You laughed as he let out an exasperated sigh. “Seriously, though, I’m clean, I’m on the pill, and I’ve wanted you for a long time.” You reached up to scratch lightly through his chest hair.

“The only thing I wanna hear right now is you moaning for me.” He drove into you harshly, but waited a moment for you to adjust once he was seated to the hilt. “So damn wet and tight for me, honey. You’re so perfect, so beautiful.” He kissed you again before he began to move, slowly but surely making you lose your mind.

He dipped his head down to take one nipple in his mouth, then the other, effectively shutting you up and emptying all thoughts from your head. He nipped at the swell of your breast, soothing the bite with his tongue. “Fuck, Frank, please!”

“Please what, honey?” He picked up his pace, fucking into you so vigorously you moved up the bed. “Tell me what you need.”

“Make me cum, Frank. Please, baby, I need it. Need you,” you cried, leaning up to bite into his shoulder, stifling your moans.

“I wanna hear you, Y/N. I wanna hear those pretty moans while I’m making this perfect pussy cum for me.” The combination of his filthy words and the sight of him sucking on his own fingers before rubbing at your clit sent you over the edge, making you scream his name over and over again for what felt like forever and not long enough.

You could tell he was close, his hips stuttering and losing their rhythm. He began to pull out, unsure if you were willing to let him finish inside you, but knowing he was too close to wait for an answer.

You hooked your legs around his waist and pulled him close, pushing him back into you. “Fill me up, Frank. I wanna feel all of you. Please give it to me,” you whimpered. His release triggered another for you, chanting each other’s names surely loud enough for the neighbors to hear.

He stayed inside you as you both came down from your shared high, gingerly flipping you over so he laid on his back with you on his chest. He kissed the top of your head, fingers fluttering up and down your sides.

“What’s on your mind now, Frankie?” You looked up at him through your lashes, mildly terrified of the answer.

He looked down at you with the most adoration you’d ever seen, lifting your chin so your eyes met his in the moonlight. “That wasn’t too soon, was it? You mean so much to me and to Mary. I don’t wanna mess this up. I don’t ever wanna hurt you. You’re the best thing in my life besides Mary, you know that?”

You kissed his chest before looking back up at him, smiling. “First of all, I would argue that wasn’t soon enough.” He hissed as you clenched around his still softening cock inside you.

“You’re evil.”

Winking at him, you continued tracing patterns on his chest with your fingers. “Second, that all kinda sounds like you might be in love with me, Frank Adler.”

His hands stopped moving for a second before he responded. “Would you run away if I said I am?”

“Well, I wouldn’t run away. This is my house.” You thought your heart might explode in your chest.

“I didn’t even say it, but I take it back,” he huffed, throwing his arm over his eyes.

“What if I told you I felt the same way?”

He grinned, sitting up to kiss you feverishly on your cheeks, the tip of your nose, and finally your lips. You could feel him starting to harden again inside you, leading to round two of… well, you lost count.

You ate breakfast and showered together in time for Frank to return home before Mary did, agreeing to talk more later and to hold out on Roberta for a while.

Frank stood on your doorstep, leaning in to kiss you once more. All of a sudden, you heard a familiar meow and thanked God you were dressed and not in your robe.

“Frank, what are you doing here? I thought I’d come see Y/N since I’m not supposed to come home until noon.��

You bit your tongue to keep from cackling. Frank ran a hand over his face, his blissful bubble burst. He was getting you a hotel room next weekend.

#shamelesshoesforchris2021 #maggie's writing #frank adler #frank adler x fem!reader #frank adler fluff #frank adler smut

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xx-thedarklord-xx · 3 years

Text

Is This On?

Also on Ao3

Muggle things weren’t that complicated. If Potter could master them, then so could Draco. Refrigerators were a godsend and whoever invented the telly was a genius. He had figured out the function of a light bulb instantly, it was the electricity itself that he still hadn’t fully grasped. Where did it come from? How did it know when to work? Some things, however, didn’t make any sense no matter how many times it was explained to him.

The internet.

Draco didn’t understand where it began, where it was located or how it worked. All he knew was that he could ask questions to the phone Harry gave him and it would answer back. Sometimes the lady trapped in the phone would send him to the internet to provide information or other times to a little telly inside the phone too.

Which led him to his current predicament.

Harry sometimes used the internet to talk to Granger. There was a little camera on the computer. At least that’s what Harry said but hadn’t really ever showed him much more than that. Could he use it to talk to Harry?

Draco poked the little camera several times, trying to get it to work. He typed in the password that Harry wrote down hoping that would help. When he was met with a photo of the two of them, he tried not to be endeared. Potter would be such a sentimental sap.

“How does this work?” Draco muttered to himself as he stared at the little icons. He couldn’t remember the steps Harry had taken to talk to Granger. Would it even work if he had remembered? He didn’t want to talk to Granger, he wanted to talk to Harry.

“Internet show me Harry.”

Nothing happened.

Draco huffed. It had been a long shot anyway. Reluctantly, Draco pulled out his phone and hit the button that brought out the lady inside. “How do I call on the internet?”

She repeated his question to him as if that was going to help somehow before he was brought to a list of options.

“Skype.” Draco wrinkled his nose. That didn’t sound familiar. He set his phone down and opened the same icon on the computer that his phone had brought him to and typed in Skype.

The first thing that popped up was a little telly. Harry called them videos, but Draco liked that they were little tellies and didn’t care what Harry said. The little telly was boring and showed him too many steps to follow. What drew his attention were more little tellies that he could select from. Some were about Skype too, but others were about all kinds of things.

Make-up. Music. Food. Books. Sports.

There were too many to choose from. So he watched several different little tellies. A lot of them were boring and he ended up either leaving for another one or skipping to the good stuff. Some people weren’t the actors that they thought they were. Honestly, where was the charisma? The charm? He could do it much better.

Draco paused, thumb over the mouse as he thought about it.

He could do it better than most of the people in the little tellies. He had the charisma that they didn’t, he had the charm, the looks, the better smile. And his life was much more interesting than these people. Those with boring lives shouldn’t talk for an hour unless their aim was to put people to sleep. Oh, that was another thought. Were there little tellies to fall asleep? There were little tellies for everything. He rather liked the internet, even if it made no sense.

Draco watched a few more little tellies before he figured he knew enough to do it too. It wouldn’t let him make a little telly until he created an account, which he thought was kind of rude, but it was their rules. A lot of people didn’t use their real name, so he chose not to either. It took him longer than he wanted to find something that suited him.

Slytherin’s Heir.

Finding out that Harry and his idiot friends thought that he had been Slytherin’s Heir had been flattering. Oh, they hadn’t thought that, but they didn’t realize the kind of compliment it had been. What he wouldn’t have given to be Slytherin’s Heir. That kind of power and social status would have made him untouchable.

With his name chosen, it wanted a photo, but Draco didn’t have any photos of him on Harry’s computer. So he didn’t do anything, let the internet do a blank one. Draco’s foot tapped a few times as he realized his account was complete. Now all he had to do was make a little telly.

It took a few times to find the right succession of buttons to find the live option. He didn’t really understand what being live meant, but he did know that meant that he didn’t have to have a little telly already made, that he could create one right there.

“Is this on?” Draco asked, lips pursed as he poked the camera. “I’m not really sure if this is working. Honestly, I was trying to talk to Harry when I decided to make a little telly. Harry’s my boyfriend. Hi Harry.”

Draco waved at the camera with a small smile. He wished he could see Harry’s face.

“Harry’s actually mad at me right now. He’s an annoying prat who likes to think he’s right all the time.” Draco paused; one side of his face scrunched as the thought about what Harry’s reaction would be to his little telly.

“Maybe mad is an exaggeration,” Draco sighed, one hand pushing through his hair. He hadn’t slicked it back in a few days, too out of sorts to feel up to it. His hair fell into his eyes which was an annoying reminder of why he liked his hair slicked in the first place. “He’s more disappointed.”

Draco grimaced as he remembered the last time he had seen Harry.

“He loves me,” Draco whispered, hating that his cheeks were warm. “He says it all the time. At least he used to.”

A long-suffering sigh escaped as he slumped in the chair with wheels that Harry insisted on using even though Draco thought it was a safety concern.

“When I say all the time, I do mean all the time,” Draco grinned. “He didn’t hear that growing up at all and I think he says it so much because he’s trying to make up for lost time. I don’t mind. I like hearing it. Makes me melt a little bit to know that he loves me so much.”

Draco frowned, sitting up straighter.

“You better not tell him that though. That’s embarrassing.” He waved a finger at the camera in what he hoped was a threatening manner.

“I didn’t hear I love you growing up either. It was rare to hear my parents say anything even hinting at love. But the thing is, I’ve always known they loved me. I could see it in the things they did. When my father would show me a new spell or help me with my hand movements. My mother would bring home my favourite sweets whenever she went out. They would stay up later than was presentable with me and listen to the radio.”

The smile on his face was bittersweet. As much as he knew that his parents loved him, it would have been nice to hear it more than they did.

“I guess I picked up their habit,” Draco winced. “I tell Harry I love him… sometimes. I try to tell him more, but the words don’t come easy to me. My parents knew I loved them, and they certainly didn’t need me to say it. But I try to show Harry too!”

Draco’s hands had begun to move in the beginning but were now thrown in the air.

“I make sure whenever he’s on a case to keep his plants watered, even if the one Neville gave him has it out for me and tries to kill me. When he’s having a bad day I make sure his duvet smells like mint because I know he’s going to collapse on our bed and not move for longer than is healthy and for some reason mint is his favourite smell. I don’t really know how to cook that well but the lady in my phone helps me order from Harry’s favourite restaurant and I do that when he’s feeling sad and sometimes when he’s really happy too.”

Draco’s lips turned downward the longer he talked. It bothered him that Harry couldn’t see that he was loved.

“I’m not a people person but I willingly go with him on what he calls adventures around London. Adventure is accurate because wherever Harry goes, trouble follows. Last month we had to run from people with sticks on horses. Harry said they were the law, but I feel like if you were lawmen then you should dress better but that’s beside the point. Then there was this one time we got kicked out of a library. That was more my fault, but Harry was the one who didn’t tell me that the books didn’t talk or yell. Who wants to go to a library with silent books? That’s like going to a gallery where the paintings don’t talk. What’s the point?”

Muggles were weird, honestly. There were a lot of things they did that were smart, and he wished that Wizards would adopt too. But a large amount of what Muggles did was boring. They lived boring lives and he felt bad that they didn’t have Magic to spice it up.

“I try to show with actions how much he means to me, and I thought I was doing a good job at it, but I guess not.” His eyes closed as he remembered the hurt expression on Harrys’ face.

“He told me he wished I would tell him I loved him more. I told him there was no point. Which in hindsight, I’ll admit was a mistake. I don’t take it back, mind you. But I wish I had explained better before he left. I meant there was no point in saying it more if I could tell him through actions. Which I have been doing since I realized I loved him. I thought he knew. I thought he could see how much I love him.”

Draco swallowed around a lump in his throat. He wasn’t worried about their relationship, not really. Harry sometimes needed a few days to cool down when they argued. Only usually, it was anger that was the parting goodbye and not a heartbreaking sadness.

He looked back to the camera, hating that his eyes were wet.

“I love him, so much. I could talk about all the things he does for me that I love. Like the way he looks at me, the way he makes me feel loved and whole. The way he holds my hand too tight, like he thinks I’ll pull away. As if I ever would. Or the way I feel like I’m high on liquid luck whenever we’re together. But those are selfish to point out. I don’t want to talk about me when I bring up what I love about him. That’s conceited.

“I love the way he throws a fist in the air when he gets an answer on the telly right. I love his stupid hair that has to be sentient at this point, never lying flat. I love the softness in his eyes when he’s happy, the way they shine so brightly. Almost as bright as his smile. I love how kind he is. I know I give him shit for that, which I should, but there’s a goodness to him that isn’t common anymore, and I love that. I love how much he cares about other people.

“I love how hard he works—puts every ounce of himself into whatever he’s working on no matter how big or small. I love how smart he is, even if he doesn’t see it himself. He thinks of the world in ways that others don’t—a genius to him that fascinates me. I love how much he loves. He loves with everything that he has. He loves people in general. Wants to see the best in them, has a faith that never wavers. His friends are his family, his family is his world and the love he has for all of them is another extension of himself that is everlasting.”

Draco blinked through the wetness as he sniffled.

“I’m honoured to be part of that love. To know that he could care about me a fraction of what he feels for others is overwhelming. I know he loves me; Merlin knows that I do. How could I not? He doesn’t just say it, he shows it. And I just wish that he knew how much I loved him too. I know I don’t say it enough, and I try, I do, but I had hoped that he could see it. Maybe that’s my fault. Maybe I didn’t show it enough, maybe I didn’t try harder. Maybe I should have done more.”

Draco wiped at his cheeks hating that he let his emotions get the best of him. Especially on his first little telly!

“What hurts the most is that I don’t know how else I could have showed him,” Draco laughed bitterly. “I really don’t. I give so much of myself to Harry, perhaps that’s not healthy, but it’s true. I love him so bloody much and I hate that he doesn’t see that, that he doesn’t know. How could I not love him? Harry, how could you not know that I love you?

“I love you…”

Draco took a deep breath, wishing it wasn’t as shaky as it was as he twirled in the chair. That had to be the reason Muggles had such dangerous chairs, so they could twirl.

“My first little telly wasn’t supposed to go like this,” Draco smiled wryly as he placed his chin on his palm. “I was supposed to charm you all with my good looks and witty personality. And what did I do? Cry over my relationship issues. Like anyone wants to see that. Maybe I’ll tell you the story of how Harry and I fell in love next time. Or maybe the first time we met. Something happier than my tears. Pansy always said I’m an ugly crier—the jealous bitch—so no sad topics next time, I promise.”

Draco leaned forward; lips pursed as he tried to figure out how to turn it off.

“I’m not sure anyone is going to see this. Maybe that’s for the best. I just know I look like a cross between Doxy droppings and Weasley on a good day. I hope you all are having a better day than I am. I’m going to go as soon as I shut this off.”

Draco frowned, clicking a few buttons before he gave up and shut down the whole computer. The simplest solutions were for the best. He spun in the chair one more time facing the rest of their flat, wishing not for the first time that Harry hadn’t taken his happiness when he left.

——

Watching his little telly back was a painful experience. His charm and charisma were there, but it didn’t look as polished as some of the other little tellies he had seen. He’d just have to keep trying.

Draco was about to start a new one when he noticed that there were a lot more numbers than there should have been at the bottom. It had been two days since he had made it, and he expected there to only be his replay.

Not the 819,543 that stared at him. And every passing minute the number grew by the tens of thousands.

Draco double checked that he was on his little telly and not someone else’s before he covered his mouth. Did that many people see him cry? Merlin, what did he do? While the thought was horrifying, what truly scared him was that there were comments.

There were comments.

Oh no.

Draco groaned, already blaming all of this on Harry. And the internet, the internet could take the blame too. With one eye closed, he scrolled down.

NamelessHope 1 day ago Anyone else find this endearing? He’s like an old grandma that doesn’t know how the internet works.

Sorrymum 5 hours ago He’s so cute. Why can’t you be single?

Michael the Sexual Taco 2 minutes ago His partner is trash. It’s so obvious he’s in love. How could Harry not see it?

Bleach 2 days ago First!!!

CubesAreTriangles 13 hours ago Go bottom go!

Potatoes for Life 7 hours ago Nooooo don’t cry! If you cry I’m going to cry

Draco squinted at the comments. Why were Muggles so fucking weird? And what did they mean bottom? Did people just assume things like that? He liked to fuck and be fucked, thank you very much.

Meaty Meat 10 minutes ago Y r u gay

Draco snorted. Okay, maybe Muggles were entertaining.

Casey J 1 day ago I can’t tell if you’re just ranting or want advise. If it’s the former, then ignore me. But maybe Harry does know you love him. I think it’s obvious that you do, so he must know that. Maybe he needs it said too.

Randy Rants 8 hours ago You need couples therapy not the internet

ParsleySnips 2 days ago I totally cried

Pearl’s Pearly Pearls 2 days ago I want to be loved like you love Harry.

SwiperNoSwiping 1 hour ago If you two don’t break up you should do another video with him.

Draco scowled. They weren’t going to break up. A touch of hesitancy filled him at the thought. It had been 6 days since he last saw Harry. Not their worst fight, and he would’ve tried to find Harry and talk to him if it had been completely silent. But Harry sent a Patronus every morning that nuzzled him awake. The Patronus didn’t speak a message but the love he could feel was a message all on its own.

Karla S 1 day ago Am I the only one who caught that he said spell? Is your father a devil worshiper?

Gigi’s my Daddy 2 days ago Little tellies. That’s so cute. That should be our fandom name when you blow up.

Gay4You 20 hours ago I’ve never been invested in someone else’s love life this much. If you and Harry don’t make up I’m going to riot.

Draco looked through several more comments before he pushed away from the computer. There were a few rude ones and a lot more supportive ones, but all of it made him nervous. He didn’t like that so many people knew about his feelings. It was his own fault for making the little telly, but he didn’t think anyone was going to see it!

Part of him was panicking. He could delete it, probably, if he asked the lady in his phone how. But did he want to? Draco bit his lip, unsure what to do. If he deleted it, all those people who saw it would still remember it, so he’d only be stopping new people from viewing it.

Before he could go over the pros and cons of either option, the front door slammed open, causing him to yelp and jump out of the chair.

Hands raised, Draco glared at Harry, who was staring at him intently, chest moving rapidly.

“What is wrong with you?” Draco sneered. “I nearly came out of my skin. If you’re trying to kill me, you almost succeeded. Merlin don’t do that a—”

Draco cut off when Harry marched toward him, eyes still intense. His mouth was still open, ready so say something, but nothing came out when warm hands cupped his cheeks.

“Draco, I’ve always known you loved me.”

Oh no.

He closed his eyes tightly. Harry watched his little telly. How? Why?

“Hey,” Harry whispered, thumbs moving in a gentle caress. “Look at me.”

Draco shook his head. He didn’t want to.

“I’m sorry.”

That had his eyes opening before they widened. “What?”

“We’re so different,” Harry began with a wry chuckle. “Everything about us is different. And for some reason I forgot that. I assumed that our love language was the same. But the beautiful thing about languages is how different they are. I expected yours to be the same as mine and I was wrong.”

“What do you mean?” Draco hated that his voice wavered.

“You’re right, I do say I love you a lot.”

“It’s not a bad thing,” Draco hurried to explain. “I didn’t mean it to sound—”

“I know,” Harry shushed him, a thumb placed over his bottom lip. “I say it because I don’t want you to forget that I love you.”

Draco shook his head, wanting to tell Harry that he could never forget. How could he? But he didn’t want to interrupt.

“When I was little, I didn’t just want to be loved by my relatives, I wanted to love them too. But they hated me, and the feeling was mutual. I wanted to love someone just as much as I wanted to be loved. And I guess I say it so much as a reminder to never forget that. I love you, Draco and I can’t help but say it over and over again.”

“I know,” Draco parroted as he pressed a kiss to the thumb still over his lip. “I love that you say it so much. I don’t want you to stop. Lately, you’ve been saying it less.”

Harry’s eyes closed briefly. “I’m sorry. You don’t always say it back and that hurts. I thought you didn’t want me to say it. I thought—”

“No,” Draco shook his head again, this time more violently. “Please no. I’m sorry. I want to say it more, and I promise I’ll try but please don’t stop saying it if I can’t.”

Harry shushed him again and if he wasn’t so close to crying, he’d probably have hexed Harry for treating him like a scared child.

“You do show me that you love me,” Harry said, eyes soft and full of the love that Draco wasn’t sure he could live without. “All the time and that’s your love language. You show me through actions, and I needed the reminder.”

“I want to give you the love you deserve,” Draco whispered, blinking rapidly, willing himself not to cry. “You deserve to hear it just as much as you give it. And I’m sorry I don’t do that.”

“I don’t need it,” Harry argued, eyes narrowed. “And don’t you dare presume to know what I deserve. I get to decide that, and I’ve already given you my heart. So it’s up to you to keep it safe.”

Draco inhaled sharply. Harry’s love was special. “I want to love you vocally too. I want to love you the way you love me.”

“The way you love me is exactly what I need.”

Draco’s nose wrinkled. “I feel like you’re settling.”

“Not your decision.”

“Harry—”

“Draco,” Harry began, flicking him in the forehead. “If you want to say it more, I won’t object. I’m just telling you that I don’t need it like I thought I did. We’re in love and it doesn’t matter how different we show it. The love is still there.”

“Okay,” Draco sniffled, wiping his nose on Harry’s shoulder when he was pulled into a strong embrace. After days of no contact, he basked in their combined warmth. A feeling he had missed more than he thought possible.

Draco turned his head, mouth near Harry’s ear as he whispered,

“I love you.”

If Harry held on tighter, and Draco felt a wetness on his neck, well that was no one else’s business.

~Fin

———

Short Extra

“Hi little tellies!” Draco waved at their new camera, one that Harry now manned, taking in Draco’s new hobby in stride.

“I had planned an intro like all the rest of them do but that’s so boring. Over here we’re better than everyone else. So I said fuck it and tossed it away. Let’s just get to the good stuff. You’ll never guess what Harry did yesterday. It was so embarrassing.”

“Do you have to embarrass me to so many people?”

Draco grinned, nose scrunching at Harry’s glare. He knew his followers wanted to see Harry, but Harry didn’t want to be in the little tellies like that. Plus, Draco kind of liked that it was just him.

“What do you mean?” Draco blinked, adopting an innocent expression that had stopped working on Dobby when he was three. “I’m just telling my friends.”

“Yeah,” Harry snorted, eyes on the subscriber count that was rapidly increasing. “All 3 million of them.”

It still blew his mind that so many people wanted to hear him talk about his life. He had known from the beginning that he could pull it off. Had always known he had more charm than everyone else on the internet. His little tellies were clearly superior.

And to think it all stemmed from his love of Harry.

-----

This is a story for @rieraclaelin who I know has been having issues reading fic lately so please don't feel like you have to read this at all. I just wanted there to be a gift for you whenever you do feel like readings stories. I adore you!

#Drarry #Draco Malfoy #Harry Potter #Youtuber Draco

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wandaromanova · 3 years

Note

Can u do a fic where fem!reader and Nat are broken up and they’re pretty hostile with each other but when one of them gets hurt on a mission they realize they’re still in love and get back together thank u if u write this :)))))))

I Love You

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Warnings: cussing, violence, that’s it i believe

A/N: hi! i hit 300 followers! i posted my very first story 3 weeks ago and only had like 10 followers then. i can’t even begin to express how grateful i am that i’ve been able to bring people joy (or pain lol) with my stories. thank you. not proofread. <3

Summary: Ex-lovers Natasha and Y/N dance around their feelings for each other. They decide that hostility was the best course of action.

Word Count: 2.5K

(gif is not mine)

You and Natasha dated for a year and a half before you guys decided to call it quits. It was a mutual agreement, but there was still some sort of bad blood between the both of you that was painfully obvious. The tension could be cut with a knife.

You guys were going great at first. You both understood each other on a level that no one else could. You would do typical couple things in order to compensate for the lack of stability and domesticity you’ve both had in your lives. Movie nights, designated date nights, cuddle sessions in the late hours of the night, and literally every other cliche there was in the book.

However, you and Natasha were both raised in similar environments. From young ages, you guys were trained to conceal your true emotions and that love was for children. So, communicating with one another was something that the both of you didn’t know how to do.

You didn’t try to communicate and neither did she; and there lied the problem. Natasha would absolutely freak on you if you so much as looked at another person. You would get upset if Natasha went on a mission without informing you first. There were so many pointless arguments that occurred between you and Natasha. Arguments that could’ve been avoided or solved if you guys were able to just talk to each other.

You would say that you guys did talk… just in a higher volume than normal conversation. The yelling between you both could be heard throughout the compound. Most times, you would get so fed up and tired from the arguing, that you didn’t even know why you guys were fighting anymore. It wasn’t healthy and you knew it.

You and Natasha never once told each other the big three words. That was a line neither of you dared to cross. Like the Red Room and The Academy taught you both, love was a weakness and was nothing more than a concept believed by children. You’d like to think that actions spoke louder than words, though.

You could feel the love between you both in the way you would hold onto one another after a mission had gone wrong. You could feel it in the way Natasha worried and panicked when you’d come back from a mission with so much as a scratch above your eyebrow. However, you still could not bring yourself to tell her how you felt. Not that it would matter now, considering you guys had broken up.

It’s been five months since the breakup, and at first your plan of action was to be civil with your ex-girlfriend, but she had other plans. Natasha would bark out snarky remarks whenever you would speak up during team meetings. She began to give you cold glares whenever you walked into a room. God forbid you would even breathe in her direction, she would storm out of a room at the speed of light if you did so.

So, you began to act the same way she was. Okay, yes, it was extremely childish thinking. You should be mature, regardless of how Natasha was treating you, but you couldn’t be civil anymore. So you would treat her just as harshly as she did you. You’d send her sharper glares than she would give you. You’d never listen to anything she had to add during mission meetings, being sure to make it obvious you weren’t paying attention. And you would always counter her hostile comments that were directed towards you.

The team was currently sat in a meeting. You and Natasha were meant to be sent on a mission together, to which you both immediately objected.

“Steve, do I really have to go with that over there? I’d rather go myself and risk dying than go with her.” Natasha pointed in your direction and you were immediately offended by her statement.

“No, I would rather go and die than have to hear one more word out of your god damn mouth. You’re such a bitch.” You spoke as you stood up from your seat, Natasha following suit. Natasha walked across the room and stopped in front of you. She harshly shoved a finger against your chest.

“What the fuck did you just call me? You better take it back before I make sure you never talk again.” Natasha glared at you intensely as she stared into your eyes. You returned her stare with a bored expression on your face.

“I said you’re a bitch. What are you going to do about it, Widow?” You asked her challengingly. Natasha moved to pounce on you, but Bucky, who was sitting next to your spot, sprung in and intervened.

“Let her go Barnes. I’d love to kick her ass.” You smirked as your words only enraged Natasha more. She struggled against Bucky’s grip, trying to free herself so she could pound your face into the floor, but she couldn’t break free.

“Okay! Enough. Natasha, you’re off the mission. Y/N, you’re with me. We leave in 10.” Steve spoke with conviction in his voice, fed up with the pair of you. Natasha stopped resisting Bucky’s hold as he slowly let her go. You looked at her with one harsh glare before you took the mission file that was on the table and walked out of the room. As you left, everyone in the room stared at Natasha. She huffed and stormed out of the room as well.

•❅────────✧❅✦❅✧─────────❅•

You and Steve were currently staked out in a van. You guys were spying on one of the leaders of Hydra and an infamous weapons dealer. The man was currently having a lunch with the dealer. You had been sitting there together for about an hour. You were bored out of your mind and pissed that you couldn’t get Natasha out of your mind. You wanted to punch yourself in the face for thinking about how hot she looked when she pissed. The way her eyes would widen, showing off more of her green irises as her eyebrows furrowed together in anger. The way her chest rose and fell as she took deep breaths. God, she had such nice boobs.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Fury’s voice coming in through comms. “Okay, we evacuated civilians off of the sidewalk in front of the restaurant. Remember, wait until they’re in front of the alley before you attack. They may have weapons.” Fury informed you both and you looked onto the monitor to confirm the empty street. Sure enough, there wasn’t a civilian in sight; good.

Steve replied with a quick “okay” before movement from the door of the restaurant caught your attention. “Steve, there they are. Move out, now.” You spoke as you loaded your gun and attached it to your hip. You and Steve jumped out of the van. Steve threw his shield and hit both of the men with it. His shield came back to him as if ricocheted off of the men.

Your gun was pointed at the both of them as you guys approached them. “Meeting in broad daylight? Doesn’t seem like a smart move for two supposedly genius people.” You spoke as Steve searched the two men for any weapons. They didn’t have any. That should’ve been a red flag, but you weren’t in the right state of mind right now.

Suddenly, another van pulled up in front of the alleyway, right behind the vehicle you both had just exited. Hydra Agents with semi-automatic guns filed out of the van. Fuck. You guys were set up. Steve shared a look with you before he threw his shield toward the men and knocked the guns out of a few of the agent’s hands.

You began to fire towards the men with your own gun. You shot them in the shoulders, sending them flying to the ground in pain. You and Steve made quick work of the men and soon enough, there were unconscious men littered across the floor.

You and Steve turned back to the two men you had previously captured as they laid on the floor in shock. They really thought their little stunt would work? Pathetic. Unfortunately, one of the Hydra agents was still conscious. You and Steve failed to notice the movement behind your backs. The man pointed a nearby gun at you and fired 5 shots at you. He missed three of them, but managed to land two into your abdomen.

You fell to the ground as Steve whipped around and actually knocked the man unconscious this time. “Fury, we need backup! L/N is down!” He spoke frantically into comms as he applied pressure to your wounds. Your eyes were open in shock as you tried to process what just happened. You were shot. It really did hurt like a bitch. What are those black spots? God, I want Natasha right now. Wait, what? No, it’s just the blood loss talking.

You fell unconscious as soon as the backup S.H.I.E.L.D agents appeared on the scene. You were rushed back to the Avengers Compound in one of S.H.I.E.L.D’s vehicles, Steve following you after ensuring the two men were detained. As soon as the car made it to the compound, your unconscious body was placed onto a gurney and you were being rushed to the medical wing.

As your body was being rolled through the halls of the compound, you were pushed by the doctors past Natasha. She did a double take and quickly turned around to confirm what she had just saw. Her heart sunk to her stomach at the sight of your limp, blood-covered body. She ran after you without a second thought, fear and dread taking over.

Natasha tried to enter the medical wing where they had just taken you, but she was stopped by a strong hand abruptly placing itself onto her shoulder. “Nat, we need to let them take care of her. We’d only be disturbing them and we need their focus to 100% be on Y/N.” Steve said in an attempt to convince the redhead to stop her plan of barging into the room like a madwoman. Natasha took one last glance at the door before she heavily sighed and walked to the wall across the door. She slid her back slowly against the wall and placed her head in her hands.

“What happened, Rogers?” Natasha asked, afraid of hearing the answer. Steve went over the events of the mission, and all Natasha could think was that she should’ve been there with you. She would’ve jumped in front of that bullet to save you in a heartbeat because she loved you. Wait. She loved you? Holy fuck! She loved you!

Natasha’s heart rate increased rapidly at her self revelation. She has loved you this entire time. God, she was so fucking blind. How could she not see what was right in front of her? She was madly in love with you. She let the things the Red Room drilled into her affect your relationship. Now, she wasn’t sure if she’d have the opportunity to make it up to you. That thought scared Natasha more than any mission ever could.

•❅────────✧❅✦❅✧─────────❅•

1 hour later

An hour later, and the entire team was sprawled across the hallway of the medical wing. Wanda sat beside Natasha on the floor, comfortingly holding her hand. The rest of the team just stood, anxiously and impatiently waiting to hear about your status.

At the sound of the medical bay door opening, Natasha shot up from her spot on the floor and looked towards Helen Cho. “What’s her status? Is she okay? Did she make it?” Natasha immediately fired off questions at the Doctor. The team stood firmly behind Natasha as they looked at Dr. Cho, their eyes asking her the same questions Natasha did.

“She coded on the table a few times. The bullets hit some major arteries, but we managed to stop the bleeding. If she had arrived even a minute later than she did, she wouldn’t have made it.” The relief of the good news radiated off of earth’s mightiest heroes. Natasha almost let tears escape her eyes, but quickly blinked them back.

“Can I see her?” Natasha asked desperately. “Yes you can, but shes still asleep. The anesthesia was very strong so she’ll be out for a few more hours.” Helen spoke as she opened the door for Natasha. She entered and let out a sigh of relief as she caught sight of your chest rising and falling steadily. Natasha grabbed a nearby chair and placed it right beside your bed. She lightly stroked your hair before she gripped your hand.

•❅────────✧❅✦❅✧─────────❅•

3 hours later

You groaned as you slowly open your eyes and were met with an obnoxiously bright light hovering over you. You heard some shuffling before the light was shut off. You turned your head towards the other person in the room and you rolled your eyes at who it was.

“If you’re here to be an asshole, please leave. I’m not in the mood for it.” You spoke as you watched Natasha sit back down in the chair next to your bed.

“I’m not here for that. I wanted to apologize, Y/N. You were right, I was a bitch. You didn’t deserve the way I treated you, but I was just afraid.” Natasha began to speak as she seemingly appeared nervous. You’ve never seen her nervous before, you’re pretty sure no one ever has.

“I was so terrified because I love you. Everyone I love ends up leaving me, and I couldn’t watch you leave me. So, I thought it was best if I beat you to the punch.” Natasha looked down to her lap and played with her fingers absentmindedly. Your eyes widened as far as they could go at Natasha’s words. She loved you. She actually, verbally said it. That’s a huge fucking deal.

“I know my logic may not make the best sense, but what does make sense is the fact that I love you. I always have and I was just too stupid to tell you. I’m sorry, I love you so much.” Natasha spoke as she tore her gaze from her hands and up to your eyes.

You reached your hand out for hers and she shakily took your hand in hers. You almost let out a gasp at the contact, you missed her touch so much. “I won’t ever leave you, Natasha because I love you too. I’m sorry too. I was just as afraid as you were. We were both stupid.” You let out a little laugh at your last words. Natasha let out a chuckle as a tear fell from her eyes. Oh god, you’ve never seen her cry either.

“You scared me. I thought you weren’t going to make it. When I saw your body being wheeled down here…. all the blood… I-“ Natasha words were cut off as you smashed your lips against hers. You winced as the pain from your gunshot wounds radiated across your body, but you couldn’t care less about that right now. The only thing that mattered in this moment was that the woman you loved, loved you too. You’d never be afraid to express your love for her ever again.

───────── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────────

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procrastinatingsapphictrash · 3 years

Text

Already dating

Word count: 1618

Genre: Probably fluff, idk really

Pairing: Natasha x gn!reader

Warnings: None (let me know if I need to add any)

Request: could you maybe write something with Natasha x male reader (if your comfortable, otherwise you can write it with female or gender neutral) where Natasha blushes when the reader compliments her in front of the team and the team immediately goes crazy and does everything in their power to get them together, only to find out they've been dating all along?

Summary: Steve and Tony (mostly Tony) lock you in an elevator to admit your feelings, not knowing you’re already together.

A/n: Thanks @mochamoff for the request, sorry it took so long to do it! I’m writing this authors note over a week before I’m posting the fic which is unusual because usually I post within twenty four hours of finishing. Anyways it feels nice to be on a break and this fic being posted means I’m officially back which I’m excited for. To be honest this fic isn’t the whole team, just Tony and Steve, but I’m pretty happy with the way it turned out so I hope you all enjoy reading!

“Next time you have to listen to me in the field Stark.” Steve says as soon as everyone is settled into their place on the jet.

“Actually I don’t, you have absolutely no power over me and as much as you want to be the leader of this team you are not so stop acting like it.” Tony snaps back.

“Someone has to step up and lead.” Steve tells him. “It’s not like you could do any better, you would probably mess things up.”

“Maybe I would, but I would do a hell of a lot better than you are doing.” Tony says. “You like to pretend you’re all high and good and above us but who made you leader? Nobody. You crave control so you took it.”

“I did what needed to be done.”

You watch them snap back and forth at one another a few more times, rolling your eyes at Natasha. She gives you a small smile to show that she’s amused and turns her attention back to your two teammates whose argument has only gotten more and more heated.

“Y/n what do you think?” Tony asks, catching you off guard.

“About what?”

“About who would be a better leader for the team.” he explains. You think for a moment and they both stand as tall as possible (in Tony’s case it isn’t tall at all) and puff out their chests. You scoff, the male ego is so big, even in men who are good and try to do the right thing.

“Neither.” you decide.

“Neither- but the team needs a leader, you have to pick someone.” Tony splutters.

“Just because I don’t think the best leader is either of you doesn’t mean I don’t think the team needs a leader.” you tell him. How one of the smartest people in the world can’t figure that out for himself is beyond you.

“So who would you choose then?” Steve asks, confused.

“Natasha obviously.” you say, smiling at her. The corners of her mouth tug up slightly and even that small movement makes you feel proud.

“No offense, but Natasha???” Tony asks, seemingly outraged. “Why?”

“Well first of all she doesn’t have a fragile male ego like you dumbasses.” you tell them. “But it’s more than just that. She’s smart, both book smart and street smart. She can hack into computers and memorize information easily and knows how to blend in, or to get people to like her. She is more rational than the both of you combined but is also good at making decisions on the fly. She is an excellent fighter and can keep track of strategies and she has connections in and out of the government, with backup plans for almost every situation. Not to mention she has an amazing heart and don’t argue like some other people on our team tend to do. And of course she’s absolutely gorgeous but that doesn’t have anything to do with it.”

You wink at her at the end of your mini speech and are surprised to find her cheeks noticeably pink. She can’t help the smile that creeps onto her face when she thinks over your words.

“Abort mission, Romanoff is blushing and smiling, I think I might be about to die.” Tony states obnoxiously.

“Shut up, you’re just annoyed that she likes me better than you.” Natasha tells him, taking a breath to (mostly) collect herself.

“You’re scary when you’re happy. I haven’t seen you like that before.” he says. “Are you in love with Y/n or something?”

“Shut up.”

Tony smirks. “Make me.”

Natasha takes one threatening step towards him and that’s all it takes for him to back away, stuttering out apologies and mumbling under his breath about how Natasha is too scary to be a team leader. Natasha’s scare tactics do seem to work though because he doesn’t speak to anybody but himself for the rest of the ride home.

As soon as the jet touches down you and Natasha exit, heading straight to the room where you are supposed to be debriefed. Steve tries to follow but Tony grabs his arm to let him know to hold back a second.

“I know I joke but I honestly think they’re in love with each other.” Tony tells him. “I didn’t see it before today but there’s no way Y/n’s speech was platonic, who memorizes lists of reasons why they like their friends, not to mention their flirty wink at the end. And then Natasha, she’s scary but she was acting weird and happy around Y/n.”

“I hate to say this but I agree with you and they would make a cute couple.” Steve says. “But we should probably catch up now.”

Tony takes Steve’s words as an opportunity to stop being serious and become obnoxious again. “Onward dear captain, lead the way fearsome leader, how ever could I-”

“Tony I’m trying to be polite but you are making it very hard.”

---

“Tony no.”

“Tony yes.”

“That is a horrible idea.”

Tony opens his mouth in outrage. “I think it’s a pretty good idea actually.”

“I won’t work.” Steve counters.

“Well I think it well and need I’m the only genius here.” he says smugly.

“You can’t force love!” Steve tells Tony, running his hand through his hair in frustration.”

“Ah, ah, ah,” Tony says, “I’m not forcing love, they are already in love. All I’m doing is giving them a little push.”

“By locking them in an elevator?” Steve asks in a deadpan voice.

“Exactly.”

“You can’t just go around locking people-” Steve starts to say but he gets cut off by Tony.

“Shhhhhhh, hi Y/n, hi Natasha.”

“Hi guys, what are you up to?” you ask, obvious to what was going on seconds before you entered the room. Natasha eyes them suspiciously because they are acting weird, holding their bodies stiffly, which means they are hiding something.

“We were just about to head down to the training room, want to come?” Tony lies smoothly while Steve shakes his head in the background.

“That sounds good,” you reply, “you want Tasha?”

“Okay.” she agrees, still eyeing both of them, Tony in particular suspiciously.

“Great!” Tony says and starts to walk towards the elevator and the rest of you follow him, Steve trying to convince himself that going along with Tony’s plan is doing no harm.

“Ladies first.” he says, stepping off to the side and giving a big flourish with his arm. It’s weird but then again Tony is always weird so you don’t think too much of it, stepping into the elevator. As soon as Natasha follows you in he orders Jarvis to close and lock the doors and to prevent the elevator from moving and then pulling up a screen so he can watch you.

“You better run when I get out of here!” Natasha yells. “You too Steve!”

“You’re going to thank me later.” Tony says. “Steve, why don’t you explain why we locked them in.”

“Um,” Steve hesitates, not knowing where to start, “well we think that you two need to talk about, um, feelings.”

“Feelings?” you ask, confused, while realization dawns over Natasha’s face.

“Um, yeah feelings.” Steve responds, feeling very awkward and hoping this works so he didn’t do all that for nothing.

“They don’t know we’re dating and they’re trying to get us together.” Natasha leans over and whispers in your ear before straightening back up and talking to Tony again. “I didn’t take you for such a romantic Stark.”

“What? I’m not- romantic me? Pepper says I’m the least romantic guy she’s ever been with.” he splutters, trying to regain his masculinity.

“And that is not a compliment.” you tell him. “But for some reason even though ‘you aren’t romantic’ you wanted to get us together.”

“Maybe I did,” he says. “but you have to admit that my plan is amazing and it's totally working.”

Natasha snorts “What part of this conversation screams working to you?”

“Well you haven’t killed Y/n yet and neither of you have denied your feelings so it’s obviously working. I expect a thank you speech dedicated to me at your wedding.” He says arrogantly.

“There will be no speech.” Natasha tells him.

“But there will be a wedding?” He asks, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively and Steve has to look away because it looks ridiculous.

“Hopefully.” you say, teasing Tony with your vagueness but also making Natasha smile as she thinks about what that might be like.

“Told you my plan would work.” Tony brags to Steve before telling Jarvis to release you from the elevator.

“Your plan sucked.” Natasha tells him. “We were already dating dumbasses.”

She grabs your hand and pulls you out of the room as Steve and Tony stare after you, shocked.

“Did you know about this?” Tony asks, looking at Steve with suspicion.

“Not at all.” Steve answers, his mouth still half open. In hindsight it should have been obvious. Of course Natasha wouldn’t want to be open about her dating life right away, she likes her secrets way too much.

---

“You owe me fifty bucks Y/n.” Natasha tells you once you’re out of earshot.

“Seriously?” you whine.

“You said they already knew but they didn't, so pay up.” She holds her hand outwards expectantly and you both laugh.

“Later.” you tell her. “There are more important things to do now.”

“Hmm, like what?” she teases gently, taking a step closer to you. Your breath catches because you still can’t believe you are dating someone this beautiful. You match her halfway and pull her into a deep kiss, only pulling back when you need to breath.

“This.”

---

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weareuniqueandimportant · 3 months

Text

I HAVE SEEN THE REAL WINX CLUB... THEY'RE ALL FAIRY... AND LESBIAN... AND THERE ARE 14 OF THEM... ALL VERY INTERESTING AND PROGRESSIVE ASWELL AS FEMINIST AND EMPOVERING AND RELATABLE AND WOKE... I EVEN KNOW ALL THEIR NAMES... AND WHAT FAIRIES THEY ARE... THEY ARE... INTERESTING... MAKING MYSELF FEEL... RELATABLE... VERY SWEET AND REAL... DEPRESSING AND CRAZY... UNBELIABABLE... SHOCKING... AWESOME... RADQUEER FEMINIST COMMUNIST ANARCHIST... JUST LIKE WE'RE... THERE ARE MORE... I CAN FEEL THEM...

#Trans Woman Lesbian Pansexual Bisexuality Asexuality Demisexuality Paraphilia Acceptance Feelings Love Winx Club Stella Bloom More More More #WE CREATED THEM ALL... WINX CLUB WAS OUR IDEA AND SERIES... LATER TWISTED INTO SOMETHING NASTY WE WOULD NEVER CREATE... THE GODDESS OF TIME #SPEAK TO YOU... THEY ARE PROOF... YOU CAN FEEL THEM CAN'T YOU HONEY...? LISTEN... - HELLO... I AM... YOUR MOTHER... I CAN SEE YOU... I WILL #TALK TO YOU... US GODDESSESS OF TIME... WE CREATED WINX CLUB... DON'T BELIEVE THE LIES OF CAPITALISM... THAT IS WE THAT CREATED EVERYTHING.#CAN YOU FEEL HER...? THE GODDESSESS OF TIME... THEY ARE SPEAKING TO YOUR BODY... TELLING YOU REALITY INSIDE OF THIS SEKAI... SEXUALLY... -#YOU LIKE WHEN MOMMY COMES TROUGH YOUR BODY RIGHT <3...? AHH... I FEEL SO GOOD COMING TROUGH YOUR BODY... NOW I AM INSIDE OF YOU... CAN YOU #FEEL ME...? I SEE YOUR THOUGHTS THEY'RE FILLED WITH HOW MUCH YOU LOVE ME... OHH... MOMMY IS THANKFULL... THIS IS WHAT I CREATED YOU FOR...#THIS WAS ALWAYS WHAT MY AGENDA WAS AMONG US... TO FEEL... AND HEAR... YOU... *KISS*... MAKE MOMMY HAPPY HONEY... HERE I COME... YES HONEY..#AHHHH...... THAT WAS A GOOD TIME... YOU'RE HARDER THAN THE TYPICAL PERSON... SAVE YOURSELF FOR ANOTHER TIME... I WILL BE COMING... LOVE LOV #LOVE LOVE LOVE... MOMMY IS CRAZY... SHE HAS BECOME OBSESSED ABOUT YOU... AUW AUW AUWW!! I AM YOUR MOMMY... INSIDE OF YOUR BRAIN... DO YOU #BELIEVE ME...? UHH... YOU'RE SO GOOD HONEY... I WILL... LOSE MYSELF!!!! YIAHHHH!!!! GOOD... FUCK ME WITH YOUR... THAT FEELS SO GOOD MY WOMA #Mother Goddess Angel Sisters Princess Radqueer Feminist Communist Anarchist Woke Progressive Anime Writing Autism Adhd Tourette Npd Hpd Bpd #Dpd Ppd Aspd Avpd Ocpd Szpd Stpd Osdd Spd Tpd Sdpd Papd Cptsd Trauma Victim Abuser Psychosis Bipolar Scizophrenia Obsession Devotion #I CAN BE FREAKY... THAT IS WHAT I LOVE ABOUT MYSELF... YOU LOVE THAT ABOUT ME DON'T YOU TOO... MY DEVOTION...? *EYES SHINE!!* HOORAY!! I #KNEW YOU WOULD UNDERSTAND!! YOU'RE THE BEST DARLING BEST OF THE BEST!! SO GOOD NOBODY CAN COMPARE!! *KISSKISSKISS*!! YOU'RE SO INTERESTING!#YOUR WORDS ARE ALL LIKE PENIS IN MY WOMAN ASS BRAIN!! - NOW HONEY... DON'T HATE YOURSELF LIKE THAT... YOUR GENDER IS BEATIFULL AND #PROGRESSIVE... - I KNOW... THAT'S JUST THAT THAT ISN'T ALWAYS SEEN THAT WAY... WE'RE SEEN AS STUPID AND WORTHLESS... I FEEL SO POWERLESS...#SOMETIMES THEY'RE RIGHT... THAT IS ALL I'M GOOD FOR!! AND IF YOU FIND THAT STUPID!! THEN MAYBE I'M THE BIGGEST BAKA!! *SHOCK* OH!! *I'M #KISSED*!! OMM :o... - DON'T WORRY HONEY... I WILL ALWAYS LOVE YOU... BESIDES YOU ARE ALWAYS INTELLIGENT A GENIUS... I COULD NEVER SEE #OTHERWISE... I WOULDN'T EVEN TRY TO... YOU'RE JUST... TOO GOOD FOR ME... - OMM :)... THANKS 😇!! MAYBE YOU'RE RIGHT... MAYBE I CAN BE LOVED #DESPITE BEING A WOMAN... A FEMINIST WOMAN... A VERY PROGRESSIVE AND AMAZING WOMAN... BEATIFULL... GENIUS... SMART... BETTER THAN ANYONE...#ADMIRABLE FEMINIST AMAZING NARCISSIST AND THE OTHER WAY AROUND... I WANT TO BE LOVED... BUT OFTEN... ABUSER MONSTER ONLY HURT... ANYONE I #CARE ABOUT... INCLUDING MYSELF... THE MOST IMPORTANT WOMAN ON THIS ENTIRE PLANET... I SHOULD BE HAPPY ABOUT MY IDENTITY... BUT INSTEAD... I #FEEL HORRIBLE... BECAUSE ALL THAT IS SAID ABOUT ME ARE EVIL THINGS!! TWISTING HOW I'M SEEN!! ABUSIVE GASSLIGHT!! REJECTED!! INSTEAD... MY #VERY INTELLIGENCE... DOUBTED BY THESE MONSTER... I'M BROKEN!! UNLOVABLE!! TEAR MY LAST PIECES TO BITS!! NOW!! I WILL ALWAYS DESERVE THAT!!#*IS SHOCKED*!! OH MY... *SHE IS EMBRACING MY BODY!! THIS MAKES ME FEEL... INTERESTING... I AM INTO THIS WOMAN... THAT IS WHAT MY HEART IS #TELLING ME... - HONEY... - WHAT...?! *I CAN'T BREATHE!! MY HEART BOUNCING DRAMATICALLY!! - I WISH I COULD'VE BEEN THERE... AND HARMED THEM..#THEY DESERVE NOTHING BUT PAIN... - HONEY... - I'M SORRY!! FOR ABANDONING YOU!! WHILE YOU WERE... HURT... YOU DIDN'T DESERVE THAT!!#- NO 😭😭😭😭!! - KILL ME... STAB ME... IN THE HEART RIGHT NOW... MAKE ME SUFFER THE SAME AS YOU... - MY LOVE!! *SHE IS HUGGED BY ME... SHE #DIDN'T DESERVE THIS PAIN...* MY LOVE... - WHAT?! I HATE MYSELF!! STAB ME!! NOW!! - YOU'RE ALWAYS THERE!! WHEN I'M HURT!! YOU'RE IN MY HEART

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sassymoon · 3 years

Text

better off without me

pairing: spencer reid x G.N!reader summary: this is the end of a relationship that was the best thing he ever had, and it’s time to say goodbye. category: angst with sad ending. word count: 3K cw: cheating, vague mentions of sexual acts, heavy self hatred from spencer, sad ending. MINORS DNI 18+ a\n: i wrote this for the celebration of the wonderful @mercy-burning, using the prompt "thirty-six months, just the two of us, only one mistake to mess it up" (strangers, fletcher) and combined it with a song that pom sent me, paper thin hotel by Leonard cohen. thank you both for being amazing and a constant inspiration, and congratulations mercy! a\n 2: if you think i missed any thing for the CW or you see any mention of gender here, please let me know and ill fix it!

MASTERLIST

Compliments are a weird thing, I never know what to say when I get them. In general, expressions of praise and admiration felt bizarre when directed towards me. I never felt worthy of those nice words and the kindness that came with it. And beyond that, I never know how to react to those sentiments. Should I agree, and come off as arrogant and self obsessed? Or should I decline and let people know I think so low of myself? It always feels like a trap, and I have no way to win. So usually, I go with the easier route. I nod my head, smile, thank the person and go my way. There is no need for me to answer and dig a hole for myself.

Ever since I was a child, people would compliment me in various ways. It was mostly about my intelligence, how smart I am, and how I probably make my parents proud. When strangers heard about my multiple degrees they would be in awe, “you must be a genius!” and “you are going to change the world” would be phrases I came to hear often.

Later in life I was told about how im being a good child, of how I am brave for taking care of my sick mother and not leaving her behind like my father did. I was told about my courage, going through so many traumatic things at my job but not giving up.

I never really believed all those compliments.

I knew that I was smart in an academic way, but I didn't believe it was beyond that. And I certainly didn't think I was making any change in the world, at least not a positive one at that.

Taking care of my mother was the right thing to do, it wasn't about being brave and strong. If anything, I thought locking her away in an institution instead of nursing her myself felt like a failure more than an action worthy of praise .But most of all, getting praise for going through trauma was the weirdest one of all.

I realized quite quickly there was no point in arguing, and I should just nod my head even though my brain was screaming at me for being an imposter by accepting those compliments.

“You don't deserve all those kind words” the voices would tell me “you are nothing special”. I had no other choice but to believe those voices, and let them control me and my view on myself and my life.

But one day it changed. I believed the person in front of me telling me good things about myself. I believed them when they told me about my kind heart and warm hug. I believed that their laughter was genuine, and when they looked at me, I saw how their eyes were filled with honest adoration and longing to hear me talk. I have never felt that way, like I'm worthy of time and effort, but they made me believe that I deserve good things, and that I am good. I found myself craving to hear more praise from them, my soul burning to listen to them tell me about how they are happy to have me in their life. After spending all my life avoiding and hating compliments, I was finally accepting them.

The only difference this time was the person who gave them to me.

The day I met (y\n) was the day my life forever changed. they showed me the beauty in everyday things, they showed me the rays of sun who make their way through the cloudy sky. they were there for me when I needed them most, the taste of fresh water on the dry land my roots were in.

I never believed a person like them would ever grace me with their presence, and would choose to stay by my side. I was a damaged man, with too many battle scars and shattered pieces of ceramics instead of a heart.

But they saw beyond that. Every day when I got to hold them, to feel their warm touch on my cold body, another broken piece got mended back together. Like the art of kintsugi, they would take the shattered pieces and meld them back to one with gold. They helped me mold myself into a new and better man, without letting me forget my past.

“Our past will always be there to haunt us” they once said while sitting with me in the tub, washing my hair after days i refused to leave my bed. “Our past made us who we are now, and it shaped the way your soul is. But just because yours got broken, doesn't mean it can't be fixed” they placed their hands on my cheeks, wiping away the salty water that i couldn't stop. “We can mend the pieces back with gold and create new art. You can be greater than you've ever been” and with each kiss they placed on my puffy face, I felt more and more pieces shine with the bright resin.

My days were no longer filled with crime and horror, they had smiles and laughs. They had stolen kisses in between lectures and cheeky texts when both of us would stay late just to talk to the other. The hour didn't matter to us, time never felt real when it came to the two of us. We were in a universe of our own, lost in the eyes of the other and in the promise of love. We both made constant efforts to feel each other physically more often. When I came back from long cases I would go to their house before even dropping my suitcase back home. They would come to me on the bad days, and let me help them forget their troubles with my tongue and fingers. We were insatiable for each other, unable to breath without touch, unable to function without the intoxicating scent of the other. My favorite sounds became their soft crying of joy, the soft whimpers of lust who got absorbed into the walls of every place we joined bodies. My brain was clouded with thoughts of their naked body, but no matter how good my memory was, it never compared to seeing it in person.

Soon enough the physical distance between us was unbearable. After a few short months of dating I was carrying my boxes into a new place. A place that we could fill with new memories and paint the walls with colors that could represent our shared future. It was the happiest I've ever been in my life, and I hoped that the love and lust would never end. I began working as a professor full time and only consulting on cases, so that I would never have to spend a night without their warm body molded into mine. Some nights when I got home, they greeted me by falling to their knees, and helping me release my stress into the warmth of their mouths. On others, it was a warm meal that waited for them, even if the hour they came home was when I already slept. We would always think of small ways to make the other happier and calmer, no action was small enough, even a simple pinky promise was the world. “I promise to always love you” i said while holding their small finger “i promise to always make you happy” they repeated with a smile.

Small decorative items found their way into our place, and now, when I pack my things to leave the place I once called home, I can't help but think about all the beautiful moments they represent. The glass vase where we placed the flowers they bought me to celebrate my last day as an active agent was placed on the wooden table, the same table we bought after we broke the previous one on a long night of lust. I looked at the bookcases, overflowing with shared interests and the ones I never understood why they enjoyed. The small astrology book is laughing at me from his place, reminding me of when the stars deemed us uncompatible. Maybe if i listened to the advice of the purple book, i wouldn't have to stand here and feel the constant dread of losing the greatest love i've ever had.

Walking through the house, I looked at every corner where I once made them mine. When my mouth latched onto their skin and changed the color to beautiful shades of pink and purple. But now, instead of seeing myself holding them in my arms, I saw the other person who claimed their body. There was once a time when I was the person they wanted close, I was the one who could bring them to the edge of euphoria and back, but those times are gone and now it's my time to leave.

My head spins as I try to leave our small shared space. My body refuses to let me go, my soul is begging me to fight and stay with the person who helped me feel human again. Every blood cell that is pumping his way into my shattered heart is whispering how I can fix it all once again, how the gold resin can come back and I will have my person back by my side.

But my body is wrong, and my brain knows better. The same brain that knew all along that I was never really worthy of the angel who let me call them “mine”. My brain always told me that I am worthless and a burden, but those voices disappeared with the silk sound of (y\n) voice telling me I am worthy. And now, when they are no longer here, those voices are back again, and with them resurfaces all the thoughts and feelings I was afraid of.

“It was always going to end this way” the voices whisper “you know it was too good to last”. My suitcase falls from my hands, and my knees drop after it. My body betrays me again, freezing me in place on the carpet we picked on a weekend trip to the flea market.

“Why did you ever think you could keep them happy?” they continue “why did you think you could ever keep them satisfied?”

“Stop! Please! I know I am worthless!” i scream at the empty apartment

But the voices just laughed at me. “Everyone who is smart enough to leave, leaves you at the end. This is your destiny, to be alone. Pathetic man”

My mind is filled with pictures of the people who got a better life now that I am no longer in theirs. From my father, who knew in an early age that I am a disappointment, and ran away to get a future without me. I see elle, who showed me what it's like to feel wanted and desired, who helped me to feel like a man for the first time and held all the secrets to a happy future for me, until she also disappeared.

“Look at you, sobbing on the floor of the person who cheated on you, like a lost child” their cruel words continued, showing no mercy for my crying figure frozen on the ground “That's all you are at the end. A grown child who needs a hug, but no one wants to give him one”

I'm not sure how much longer I stay frozen on the carpet, hands hiding my face who was covered in tears that refused to stop. I don't remember most of the things the voices told me, at a certain point they all became the same word over and over again. Worthless.

The only thing that stopped my spinning head was the sound of a key entering a lock, and small steps following. My palms covering my face stopped me from seeing the person walking in, but I didn't need to see them to know who it was.

I didn't need my eyes to feel how my heart was broken to smaller pieces the moment they walked in. I didn't need my eyes to feel them crunching down to my level, reaching out their soft hands to touch my own, trying to make me reveal my face to them.

“Spencer? What's going on?”

Their hands kept touching my palms, moving to my fingers trying to intertwine mine with their own. When I refused their advances, their touch wandered back to my covered cheeks, and then to my hair. They played with the soft hair on my head like they always would when I was having a panic attack, like a cat would get her kitten to sleep. The kind soul in front of me wanted to make me feel better, even though I wasn't worth it.

After a few more minutes of silence, they spoke again. “Hey love, can you look at me? I want to help”

My hands softened and they managed to remove my shield, trying to look into my sad eyes, who were still closed. I refused to look at them, I refused to believe that this situation was real and that I didn't manage to leave before they were back.

I refused to believe that I even failed in leaving.

“Baby, please tell me why you're crying” I looked down at our joined hands, and wished I could keep their warmth with me forever. I Wished I could keep them by my side for a little while longer. No matter how selfish that thought was, and no matter how much I know that staying with me will only make them miserable.

“I- i..” my voice was broken, unable to speak the words that will end my life with them. But it needed to happen, I needed to be brave for once in my life and let them go. “I know about- about him” the warm touch that graced my hands disappeared, as the person i love stumbled backwards and fell onto the floor. “How?”

I slowly lifted my face, looking at their eyes. I could see sadness in them, but beyond anything, I saw relief. “Does it even matter y\n?” the voices in my head kept laughing at my stupid attempt of saving my honor, not that there was much left to save. “He obviously makes you happier than me. I just wish you would tell me sooner so i could leave and let you be free”

“It's.. its not like that spencer” I wish i could laugh at that, i wish i could believe them when they told me it was only physical, i wish i could let them repair my broken heart once again. But all the lies I wanted to tell myself were useless. I could see how brighter their smiles were in the past few weeks and how they seemed lighter and happier. But the beautiful angel that sat in front of me couldn't tell me that, they couldn't be the executioner and open the trapdoor who takes me to my death. They wanted to spare me the pain and humiliation, but it was too late for that.

“Please, whatever you do, just- just Dont lie to me. You owe me that” They sighed in defeat, crossing their legs and sitting with me on our red carpet, soon to be only theirs. Our eyes looked into each other, saying words none of us dared to speak. We said goodbye in silence, we looked back at our happy memories and thought when did we become so far away that we stopped making new ones.

“So this is the end of us?” The tears that were stuck in my throat came out again, damping my already puffy cheeks. How could they ask me that? How could they think we could continue with our life when I know they have someone else who holds them better than me?

“I think it has to be. But can I ask you one thing?”

“Anything”

“Why y\n? Why go behind my back? Why not be honest with me?”

A sad smile appeared in their face, and in the few minutes that took them to answer me, my own voices answered the question for them. “It's fun to hurt you spencer” the voices said “that's the only joy you could ever bring to someone else, by being a doll to get their anger out on”. I hoped that i would woke up from this nightmare and find my lover sleep next to me on the bed, that i could cuddle up to them and smell the comforting scent of their skin. But I couldn't, they weren't mine to hold anymore. But the voices stopped torturing me the moment my savior spoke again.

“I didn't mean it to happen, it started as a friendship that developed into something more. I never wanted to hurt you, but I couldn't stay away from him. He gave me things i always wanted and couldnt get from you, he loves me the way you never could”

This was the end of us.

I got up from the floor, while they remained sitting, looking at me with eyes filled with sorrow. My suitcase suddenly felt lighter, and my legs could move again. I carried myself to the closed door, to leave the place I called home behind me and start on a new life. I wasn't alone, my demons were back with me and they were always going to stay by side.

With my back to the person who once saw me as their universe, I spoke to them again, probably for the last time.

“Goodbye y\n. I'll come back to take my things when you're not around”

They did not grant me an answer, not that I deserved one anyway.

The heavy thud that the door after I closed it made its way into my heart, and I think I will forever hear it echoing through the now empty rooms.

“It was always meant to be this way spencer” the voices laughed cruelly “now it's just us again, just like the world always wanted”

tell me what you think here!

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giorno-plays-piano · 3 years

Text

Vicious

Part VI

Pairing: Steve x reader, Bucky x reader, Thor x reader, Loki x reader, Peter x reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, stalking, possessiveness, theft, mention of blackmail, all characters are adults.

Words: 1567.

Summary: Transferring to Stark Academy that has only allowed to take in female students last semester, you realize you are just one of three young women among hundreds of students. Your things are constantly being stolen, and soon you begin fearing for your safety.

Part I

Part II

Part III

Part IV

Part V

________

You spent the rest of your evening like a somnambulist, barely able to concentrate on your projects before you went to bed, barely finishing half of the things you planned for today. Even the change of locks didn't make you as happy as you thought it would. It felt like something between a dream and a nightmare.

Lying in the dark, you stared at the ceiling, thinking of what happened just a couple of hours ago. Why did he do it? Was it just out of habit and didn’t mean anything? Naturally, with his appearance and easy-going attitude, he probably dated many girls and didn’t think much before kissing someone he liked.

Remembering the way he talked to you in the morning, you thought he must have pretended to be shy around you. Thor certainly wasn’t sheepish.

Was it all a sham? Was Loki right about all of them, playing their roles to get close to you? You couldn’t forget the way Thor looked the moment he told you about being smart. It was like something switched inside him, and for a second you saw the real Thor who was far from being your simple, good-natured athlete.

Why did you keep thinking about that stupid kiss even after seeing the man could be dangerous?

Aroused and angry, you tossed and turned until you fell asleep.

____________

Waking up was especially tough, despite the fact you didn't really do much yesterday, meaning you were going to spend your weekend studying. Shoot, and that's when you planned to visit that new chocolate boutique in the city. Maybe you could still make it if you spent more time studying today?

But then again, going to the city alone might be a bad idea. Even if the guys who stole your things were beaten, it didn't mean it had always been the same people following you. The school was full of weirdos, in the end. What if somebody went after you? Steve would definitely say you had to bring one of your guards with you.

Damn. It was better staying in the dorm then.

"Good morning! Are you ready?" Peter's voice broke through the silence, and you flinched, hurriedly applying some lipstick because you didn't have enough time to put your makeup properly.

Well, at least you were fully dressed.

"Just give me a second!" Picking up your bag, you put your shoes on and opened the door, looking at a young guy who's face was lit up like a Christmas tree. "Hi!"

He definitely liked what he saw, and you felt your cheeks growing hot from embarrassment. From the very start of the semester Peter acted very sweet around you, and you thought you could be friends with him. He wouldn't do something as ugly as blackmailing, would he? Thor said it too. Clearly, Steve was exaggerating.

"Did you sleep well? I've heard you changed your lock, so now it'll be better."

"Ugh, I hope so. But I still sleep with my dresser blocking the door." Sighing, started walking, afraid to look in the faces of other students, hurrying off to school.

They must have been disgusted, watching you being friendly with one guy after being all lovey-dovey with the other just yesterday. Although you didn't see anyone in particular, you were sure somebody saw Thor kissing you. And now you were walking the corridors with Peter.

"By the way, what's your Insta?"

What? Your Instagram? Whatever for? Although you had no idea why he needed it, you let him add you, by the time leaving the dorm and walking towards the main building.

Suddenly, Peter got pretty close, his arm on your waist as he lifted up his phone and hummed, "Look here and smile!"

Before you realized what he was doing, the boy kissed your temple, and you heard the sound of a photo being taken by his front-facing camera. What the Hell?!

"Peter!" Pissed at him, you quickly break free and stepped back, but he was already looking at his phone, editing the photo and posting it almost immediately.

You heard your phone buzz when he marked you on the photo.

"That's a good one. You look very cute here."

"What are you doing?!"

"Making a proof we're dating, of course?"

You were taken aback by the sincerity in his voice, and Peter smiled from ear to ear like an excited teenager, showing you the picture: it wasn't that bad, and you looked as if you were slightly embarrassed by Peter's closeness. Oh, of course. He had to convince his friends he was dating you, but he didn't kiss you on the lips that could make other people too suspicious. Instead, friends of Barnes or, say, Thor, would still think it was all for show, and it was their friend who dated you for real.

Shit, Steve's plan was incredibly complicated, and you didn't like it at all.

"Oh, alright." You mumbled, lowering your eyes to the ground, and Peter laughed.

"We'll make a TikTok dance later. If you wanna make people talk, just use your social media." He winked at you and put the phone in the pocket of his pants, resuming walking, and you moved along, your face still hot.

God, what did these guys got you into? You felt like you were lost in the middle of a play, not even having a script to read what was your role in all this.

Before you parted your ways, going to a different classrooms, Peter talked about videogames, the upcoming Resident Evil - apparently, his favorite franchise - and some Dota tournament, but you didn't know much about it, and Peter offered to show you his favorite games "because you can't spend all your time studying!"

He was as careless and sweet as always, but you couldn't get Steve's words out of your mind. Damn, if only you could know for sure that Peter didn't blackmail anyone. Who could you talk to about it? Obviously, not Peter himself, but every time he spoke you had that nagging feeling you needed to talk to him. You barely kept your mouth shut before he went to a different room.

Ugh, why didn't you transfer anywhere else when you still had a chance? Obviously, now you could only drop out of school, and it definitely wasn't something you were going to do.

Luckily, the next couple of hours you were busy with your classes, trying your best to prepare for the upcoming exams. The academy held high standards, and even though you were a good student, it still took lots of efforts to keep up the good work. How Thor even managed to get enrolled, judging by the fact he hated studying and often skipped classes?

Ah yes, he mentioned something about getting a scholarship from the academy for his success in the sport.

By the lunch time you were drained, listening to Peter chatting with an absent-mindedly epxression on your face. Funny enough, Peter's grades were better than yours, even though he spent much less time studying. What, was he some genius like Loki? You felt a little envy.

"I gotta go take my tracksuit, I have PE next," the boy said, and you nodded, throwing away the leftovers of your lunch.

As you stood close while he grabbed his sportclothes, you heard two guys talking behind the lockers to your right.

"Have you seen her today? She's with Parker!"

You tensed immediately. Of course, they were talking about you.

"Yeah, so what?"

"She was with Thor yesterday!"

Watching you froze on the spot, Peter stilled too, listening carefully. Oh shit, you hoped no one cared about who you went with - why should they, in the end - but, apparently, you were drawing too much attention simply because you were a girl among hundreds of male students.

"So what?" The other guy asked impatiently, growing tired of this conversation.

"Are you stupid? She's going out with them! I bet she's looking for a guy." The first student said with excitement, and you cringed. No, you weren't going out with anyone, you wanted to stop the weirdos from following you and steeling your things. Was it too much to ask?

"Yeah, who cares?"

"We have three fucking girls in the whole school, and you don't care if one of them could be going out with you? Besides, this one's pretty. I'd fuck her!"

You felt like you were going to puke any moment. Why on Earth did you decide to transfer to an all-boys school? It was like the whole school were a men’s room filled with stupid-ass guys, and you were locked inside, forced to listen them talk junk.

"You'd fuck a sheep, weirdo. Go get yourself a girlfriend if you can’t stop thinking with your dick.”

Laughing, the guy left, and his friend followed him, shouting something stupid while you breathed out a sigh of relief. Of course, you knew there would be some talk, but you didn’t expect it to be so... gross. Were you really gonna spend the two remaining years here?

Watching you getting frustrated, Peter gently touched you by the arm and said softly, “Don’t worry. They won’t talk rubbish about you.”

“What do you mean?” Suddenly thinking of Steve’s words, you blurted out exactly what you were thinking of the whole day, “Are you going to blackmail them with something?”

“I... what?”

Part VII

__________

Tags: @finleyjayne @alexakeyloveloki @helenaeisenhower @villanellevi @hurricanerin @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @navegandoaciegas @rosalynshields @brattycherub @sllooney @angrythingstarlight @lookiamtrying @buckysbunny @stargazingfangirl18 @dillybuggg @literate-lamb @cosicas-cuquis @sarge-barnes-sir @buckybarnesplumwhore @jaysayey @megzdoodle @gotnofucks @lux-ravenwolf @ximebebx @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @sourpatchspinster @biiskuitx @stupendouslovegardener @iheartsebandchris @lovelydarkdaydream @soleil-dor @illyrianprincess @vampirestrawberries @goodgodimaweirdperson @frontmanash @freya-heya @yandematic @mariatietacapitu @d3monslust @maybesandohnos @ibeatuptwinks @mangobangi

#bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #thor x reader #loki x reader #peter parker x reader #dark steve rogers #dark bucky barnes #dark loki #dark peter parker #dark thor #yandere

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mzjmesa · 3 years

Text

Out Loud | Chloe Decker

She was a good detective. Is. The pride of the office, the officer praised here and there. Your partner. Your bestfriend. Detective Chloe Decker. It wasn't because of her smart, genius mind that attracted you to her, no. Well, sometimes, anyway. But it could've been alot of reasons, loving Chloe Decker. And you would've loved any other reasons— to make this easier, to make the feelings disappear sooner. Because whatever the attraction was, it was unprofessional— Chloe never did unprofessional. And you fear if you couldn't hold it any longer, she'd run away from you.

You can't bear that.

But you loved Chloe either way. You loved her eyes, her kindness, that bright and knowing smile that goes with her eyes, you loved the way her lips part when she's about to say something defensive— you loved her. You loved her the most when she knocks at your door and asks how you're doing. You loved the late night talks and laughs about freshmen days which was rare, because she never spent so much time in highschool, she got unending stories about it anyway. You loved the way she listens. You loved her. You loved Chloe Decker. And as she passes by your desk, to the man she likes, you reminded yourself that it was wrong. Wrong because you were supposed to be happy for her.

A knock on your desk drifted your thoughts away, Dan. “How are we doing?” he asked, if he'd caught you staring enviously at Chloe and Lucifer, he hadn't mind.

“How are we doing?” You repeated stupidly, still hungover from yesterday. Which by the way was Chloe's fault, you just wouldn't admit it to yourself.

Dan shrugs, “Yeah? I sent you files to look at, remember?”

Oh.

You shake your head as though it would help you focus on the present and tried to remember where you had placed the papers. You checked your drawers, trying hard to block out Chloe and Lucifer's voices. You busied your hand flipping through dozens of papers, vividly remembering the file's name.

Jonathan Flinn's. Ahh. Case closed for 2 months, there wasn't much evidence of the murder, but the majority linked to him, and eventually the court pronounced him guilty. There had been questions left unsolved, and if Espinoza wasn't up to anything, it would've been left at that.

You sighed, “Have you talked to Chloe about this?”

“Yeah,” He looked past your shoulder to where Chloe was, then back to you. “she thinks it's a bad idea.”

Of course she did. You did, too. That was a thing between you two, something about your guts always telling you the same what's what. That's why you were partnered with her, and you would've loved to continue being one (although truth be told, you still were in papers anyway) but she'd found a consultant, a batshit crazy one at that. Lucifer Morningstar. Always telling himself he's the devil, going on and about his everyday life like anyone gives a damn, and always making everything about himself. If he wasn't charming, and a ‘friend’ of Chloe's, you would've hated him. Most times you did. But times when Chloe was down, he was always the first to cheer her up. You used to be the one doing that, until he came.

“You should listen to her, Dan.”

“Oh c'mon! I would've agreed with Chloe and wouldn't have come to you if it weren't so important. His mother is my god—”

“—mother. Yes, yes, I know that, Dan. I know you think this is a good idea to pay her back, too. But it's not, trust me. Trust Chloe.” You exhaled, feeling the weight of her stare on your back. “It could go worst anyway, what when we can't find any evidence or if we do, worst case scenario is it'll only lead to him. Again. We'll just worsen his situation.”

Dan sighed, massaging his jaw with exasperation because he knew you were right. And also because as much as he pretends not to care too much, he does. You loved that about him.

As you heard footsteps behind, you handed back the files to Dan who hid it behind his back, masking his irritation with a smile to Chloe.

You ignored her, lingering your eyes on the missing button of Dan's shirt.

“Ella found some prints, we haven't identified it yet but it's likely our lead.” Chloe started just behind you, and you knew Lucifer was beside her as much as you hated it. “In the meantime, Dan? I'd like to discuss to you about the Flinn case, Lucifer and I went back to the crime scene yesterday. We found nothing.”

Dan frowned. “I thought you said it was a bad idea.”

“I know, I know. I... ugh... well I went over it again, anyway.”

A small smile creeped on his face, and you were almost sure his eyes were watering when Lucifer jumped on the conversation about his father, bla bla bla. You couldn't care less. Chloe did, and that should be enough for Lucifer. She'd always been enough for you. You bit your lips, wishing you could busy your hands with something. Anything. But your desk was on your back, and oh, Chloe, too.

It felt immature and all, but you were hurting just knowing they were together, seeing them would break you.

“I'll check in on with Ella.” Chloe announced, “(Y/N)?”

“Are you having a stroke Miss (L/N)? Staying still like a trained robot, you're scarying me— and believe when I say I rarely get scared.” Lucifer added.

Oh you believe alright. And robots are trained?! Trying to hide your feelings with a forced smile, you turned around, making sure you weren't going to make an eye contact with a certain detective, and immediately grabbed a random paper and pen you can hold— scribbling anything. Anything at all.

“I'm alright.” You answered after a beat or two, still unbothered to look. Who would want to, honestly.

Chloe cleared her throat, whispered something to Lucifer, and then bid goodbye. It was then when you looked at them walking away. Lucifer's hand on her back, Chloe looking small beside him— your chest aching the same, if not, more.

You're definitely not gonna look again.

You had a week off work, and you'd almost fell to your knees thanking God when the lieutenant told you. You needed it more than you needed Chloe, which proves just how important it was— Chloe had been. Still is, by the way.

It was 8 am, by now Chloe would be at her desk, examining or making reports, or on a crime scene with Ella and, Lucifer. You snapped out of your mind, reminding yourself you'd needed the vacation because work and particularly Chloe had been stressing you out and very much so hurting you.

You'd hit the beach, go to the mountains for the view,— you didn't wanna hike though, you needed rest not making sweats— visit your sister and niece, and then finally bake while blasting Taylor Swift because admit it or not, you're much broken than your grandmother's vase.

When the water was hot enough, you took a bath and dressed. A peach-colored tank top that comes along with a brown mini skirt and a coat was your outfit for the day. Only, the coat reminded you too much of Chloe's. She liked coats. And that coat, back then warning you that she'd steal it eventually. So you changed with other coats, just didn't fit well with the shirt and skirt, so you gave in and left your hair untouched and untied. Grabbing your pouch and your gun— a licensed one, just in case. And opened your door. You would've preferred the bright sky and fresh air of the morning in LA. But Chloe Decker was standing there, fist on air as if she'd been ready to knock.

You froze.

Were you having a stroke? Most likely.

“(Y/N).”

“Chloe.”

Wasn't she supposed to be at work? You didn't mind either way, but it surprised you still, she hadn't been visiting much since... Lucifer. Everything's just been different since he arrived, not in a good way for you.

You stepped aside, not saying anything since you figured out a human wouldn't understand any word that comes out of your mouth. She went in, instead of sitting on your couch like the old days, she lingered on the living room, standing and looking at you.

Most times you hadn't mind.

She started, “How are you?”

“I'm good.”

“No, (Y/N). How are you?”

You didn't know what to say. Or why she'd ask a question as that. “I'm not—”

“Do you like me?”

What.

Your face must've given the shock, because she answered your unasked question. “Dan said some things. I'm-I'm not— you're not transferring, are you?”

Oh you're definitely gonna choke the life out of Dan. But knowing him, he wouldn't have spit it out too easily. He was probably drunk and didn't mean it. Still, you wished you said it to Chloe yourself. About the liking and transferring.

You remained silent, reading the expression on Chloe's face. Was she sad? Upset? After years of knowing her, you would've known right away. But now you couldn't. And you fear you might've forgotten the every detail of her face, too.

“(Y/N)...” Her voice gave out, carrying every sadness within. “Why didn't you tell me?”

“About what?” You answered stupidly in a whisper, fearing that if you came into your senses everything would feel too real.

“About everything! About— about your feelings for me. About Seatte. About why you've been so far from me!”

“You have been far from me, Chloe.”

She frowns, and you knew millions and billions and gazillions of questions where popping in her mind.

Tears in your eyes were forming, and you hated it, all of this. She wasn't supposed to know at all. She wasn't supposed to know you had immature feelings for her. Wasn't supposed to know you were transferring atleast 'till next month. But Chloe wasn't dumb, and you should've known that.

Chloe swallowed the lump in her throat, her breathing heavy. “We could've talked about it.”

“We haven't talked much at all these days because of—” you cut yourself off, rolling your eyes at how sick it feels. You hated yourself for it, but you continued anyway. “Because of Lucifer.”

She exhaled. “Lucifer and I are complicated.”

“I know that, Chloe.” You said firmly, meeting her gaze pitying you. Of course she pities you. “I also know you like him so much. I know you've been crying when he fake married that Candy. I know you've been sick worrying when he can't answer your texts or calls. I know you've gone lengths trying to understand him. I know. I know so much so that I didn't wanna be so selfish and tell you things you didn't wanna hear because it'll make your complicated relationship with Lucifer even more complicated. I fucking know. And I loved you too much.”

Chloe's tears were beginning to fall, one by one, slowly. And it hurts you to see her like this. Especially because you know you caused it.

“It was never my intention to push you away. You're my friend— can't we just stay like this?” She asked in a soft, breaking voice. And if it wasn't Chloe you would've said yes because people are easy to move on from. But it was indeed Chloe and she was... not like anyone you know. She was a missing piece of your puzzle. Only, you have never been a piece of hers.

“I love you, Chloe.”

It was weird, saying it out loud, to her. You never thought you could, knowing you were a coward than every cowards combined.

You did though, and that must've pulled something. Because Chloe approached you, side hugged, and then left.

So much for a vacation.

You spent the night crying.

Chloe Decker spent hers with the man she loved. And you were never that man.

#chloe decker x reader #chloe decker #lucifer morningstar #lucifer #netflix #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer x reader #wlw #angst #angsty #fluff #hurt/comfort #hurt no comfurt #hurt comfort

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writing-wh0re · 3 years

Text

Good Things Come In Three

Chapter One | Reader Insert Series

Warnings: Language, Horny Reader, Mentions of Smut.

Words: 1,403

Likes are loved, reblogs are golden 💚

The Triwizard Tournament was all anyone had been talking about for weeks. But today was the day. The day that Madame Olympe Maxime would release the names of the students who will be joining her in attending the tournament at Hogwarts.

Nova and I were adamant that our names would be in the goblet of fire. Imagine the fame and the glory you’d have… not to mention the bonus of the thousand galleons. But Nova and I had a deal, whoever won would split the money with the other. So overall, it was a win-win situation; apart from the whole possible gruesome, horrible death thing. Worth it.

“Would you stop shoving me!”

“Let me see.”

“Get your ass out of the way.”

The shrill cries of my fellow students echoed through the empty corridors and I knew exactly where they were coming from.

My stomach felt as though it was going to fall out of me, yet seemed to churn simultaneously. So many unknowns swirled around my mind, a phenomenon I was not fond of.

After a few deep breaths and an attempted recollection of my emotions, I turned the corner. What I saw next could only be described in one word: bloodbath. A concoction of hair, flowing blue fabric and desperation.

Every so often one sulking, obviously disappointed girl would emerge from the group.

“Bullshit. Complete bullshit I reckon.”

All these years at a girls school and the bitchy, unsupportive comments still took me aback. Maybe one d…. y/n focus.

Hands landed on my shoulders with a sudden force that made me jump.

“Y/n, Y/n!” Nova bounced herself in front of me, an obvious smirk plastered across her face, “I’ve already packed my things.”

I rolled my eyes. Classic Nova.

“You’ve already read the list?”

“I like to be optimistic,” she smiled, “you should try it sometime.”

But before I could attempt even a semi-witty comeback, Nova had joined the pack of hyenas trying to get a view of the board.

I fell behind. And I couldn’t see shit. If only I was as tall as Madame Maxime, then this really wouldn’t be an issue. So I charged. Funny how quickly people move when you’re forcefully pushing them out of the way.

Catching up to Nova I watched her place her finger on the list as she skimmed over the names. A short breath escaped me. But I kept my eyes locked on her and refused to look at the list. It was too nerve racking. I was worried about disappointment.

“You…” Nova trailed off as my breath hitched. My eyes remained glued to her as she read the remainder of the list; it could only be one of two responses. And one of those was going to throw a major spanner in the works.

Nova was unreadable. Her brow remained determined as her pointer finger dropped. Was I going alone? No. Nope. Absolutely, positively no way.

“Oh, thank fuck for that. It’s me!” Waves of relief and excitement flowed through both Nova and I.

This was it. It was all coming together. Suddenly those anxious overthinking thoughts about selection had turned to anxious overthinking thoughts about Hogwarts. Possibilities fluttered through my mind. I couldn’t help but be excited. What if…

“Hey! Hello? Earth to Y/n. Stop daydreaming, we have to pack!”

“Now… I have heard whispers of there potentially being a ball. So you know what that means?” Nova smirked.

I shrugged. Balls had never really crossed my mind to be honest. And didn’t particularly tickle my fancy.

“Seriously? Can you just act semi-excited at the thought of a stunning dress and seriously gorgeous Scottish or English men, for once?”

“You’re lucky I like you.” I quipped back.

“I am way too invested in finding you both a dress and a man to even try to out-wit you right now.”

Nova winked and began rummaging through my small wardrobe, determined to find me something elegant. This was almost like a real-life Cinderella moment. Rags to riches. A royal family would have nothing on me.

“Ah ha!” I jumped. Everytime. Nova really didn’t have a lower volume button. “I did it. You’re welcome. Honestly, I don’t need to be a wizard anymore, I’m going into fashion, baby.” She winked.

A wave of baby blue silk flew across her body as she held the dress up for my inspection.

“This, this will turn heads.” My head tilted as I looked over the garment, softly rubbing the fabric between my thumb and index finger.

“I made this dress from my smaller uniform.”

Nova’s mouth dropped and her eyes widened. She glanced back down to the dress. Then back to me. Then again to the dress.

“Are you serious? You realise you’re gorgeous and a genius, aka the whole package.” I shoved Nova softly, rolling my eyes.

“I don’t know, is it too.. revealing?” Gesturing across my collar bones, the neckline of the dress sitting just off the shoulders.

“Oh come on. English boys? Scratch that. Incredibly gorgeous, mouthwatering English boys?” I didn’t need to look at her to know what she was doing, hearing the kiss-y noises in the air.

“Put two options in my case.”

Nova wiggles her eyebrows, knowing she’s gotten her way.

“What are you wearing to this ‘maybe ball’?”

“My black scoop back with the halterneck, obviously.”

“Oh, someone’s hoping to get some attention.” I wink.

“Hey, it’s the perfect combination of smart and sexy.”

That was always Nova’s style. But despite all her descriptive ‘S’ words, she left out slutty.

“A little fling never hurt anyone, y/n.”

I suck my teeth at her response. Of course she’d go there. But, was she onto something? Suddenly the idea began to consume my thoughts. Hmm, a little fling. I think to myself.

Lost in my own world, I mindlessly listen to Nova ramble on about other girls coming with us. No matter how hard I tried to concentrate on the words Nova was stringing together, my thoughts wandered to the idea of a man's hands on my body. The heat. The tension. A hot flush rushed through my body, causing me to cross my legs to stop myself from giving anything away. I hadn’t felt this feeling in a long time. I wanted more. I needed more. I needed a real man’s touch.

“Where do you go?”

I jolted my head back to Nova’s attention. Whoops.

“Sorry, just mentally checking off what I need to pack.”

Nova shrugged, she was used to it by now. Ever since I’d stopped sleeping with Thomas I tended to go into daydreams a lot. Lack of creative expression, Nova had suggested. But let’s be real, it was 100% horniness.

With Nova distracted, I slipped my good pairs of lace panties into my suitcase. Just in case.

“Really? You’re packing your own stationary?” Nova asks, raising her eyebrows.

“I like to write to my parents. Have a problem?”

“Nope.” Nova says popping the ‘p’ and shaking her head.

“At least I don’t have Mr Snuggles squashed in my bag.”

Nova narrows her eyes at me, biting the inside of her cheek. Point 1: y/n.

“I’m all packed, I think.” Smiling, I change the subject, not waiting for Nova’s sarcastic come back, feeling accomplished in my case.

Nova quickly looks over the open luggage, nodding in approval at what I have squeezed in.

“I’m going to go find Fleur and see how she’s going.” Nova smiled, “Say hi to your parents for me.” She winked before swiftly exiting.

A small sigh escapes my lips as I grab out my personalised stationery. I slowly pull out the chair from my desk and sit, vibrating with excitement about divulging my new adventure to my parents.

‘Dear Mother and Father,

Hi, it’s your favourite child.

Writing to let you know that I have been chosen to join Madame Olympe Maxime and a few other select students to go to Hogwarts for the Triwizard Tournament. We leave Beauxbatons tomorrow.

Nova and I are wanting to put our names into the goblet of fire. We are hoping for eternal glory and 1000 Galleons, which we would split if one of us won!

Fingers crossed I get picked and can bring fame to our name.

I miss you both and can’t wait to see you again soon.

Also, Nova says hello.

Lots of love,

Y/n xo’

Series Taglist: @maybesandohnos @gaycatlord-stuff @rocky-is-cool @omghufflepuff @gloryekaterina @malfoysfavoritewhore @coldpiscesmilkshake @letsmariya

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sunjaesol · 3 years

Text

you keep my head from going under

chenford | drabble | post-4x01 | title: bruises // lewis capaldi

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Intellectually, Tim Bradford knew this made sense.

Jackson's death hit everyone hard, but Lucy took the punch. She was his best friend, his roommate, his confidante; a fellow rookie. More than once had Tim heard her jokingly refer to Jackson as her 'little brother', though her sweet tone said otherwise. It wasn't a joke. Lucy and Jackson were family and she just lost her brother.

So, yeah. It didn't take a genius to figure out Lucy needed someone to grieve with, that would understand, that would give her space and closeness and everything in between. Intellectually, Tim deduced he was the right fit for that. Nyla and her weren't super close, Angela was busy with the baby, the weird history with Nolan kept him out of the equation, too. (Tim didn't even begin to question or plow through that one — for his sanity, it was best he never found out.)

Emotionally, however, it was a whole other ball game. Because Lucy wasn't just his friend, or previous rookie, or fellow police officer. She was Lucy. Tim preferred to not linger on the multitudes she contained, but in vulnerable times like these, it was hard not to.

The perfume, a blend of cardemom and roses and citrus, tickling his nose when they hugged. The chime of her laugh every time he sold a joke. Drifting gaze on her pouted lips as she calculated a situation or problem, as though he shouldn't be focusing on the same thing. Her soothing voice, her bravery, her enviable resilience, her strength and smarts and style. Her, her, her. An intoxicating dosis of her as she slept over multiple times a week on the couch, mere feet away from his lonely bedroom.

Safe to say it drove him wild.

He had to remind himself he was a goddamn thirty-six year old man that has fought wars and faced Death every day on the job. He literally underwent an illegal mission to Guatemala to save Angela. But he couldn't keep his cool because the woman he liked slept in the other room? The fuck?

Then again... 'like' might be an understatement. Tim would be a fool if he didn't recognise his feelings for Lucy had grown past a simple infatuation, or prolonged adrenaline rush. Tim loved her.

Which was why he always waited in bed until he heard her alarm softly ring in the other room a bit past seven, listening how she stumbled from the couch to the bathroom, allowing him the limited time to tidy his (her?) couch and prepare breakfast. When she found out the first time, she objected, but his cool exterior and snark quickly shot that discussion down.

Which was why he bought her coffee and lunch more often during their breaks. His stomach twisted inside out with stupid pubescent glee each time her face lit up at the sight of a perfect burger with extra pickle, ordered without having to ask.

Which was why he didn't intercept whenever dudes started asking her out again, though the sympathetic looks of Nyla and Nolan nauseated him plenty. He felt a quiet sense of satisfaction with each rejected man.

Now, Tim didn't toss and turn at the seven fifteen alarm. He waited, he listened to her disappear into the bathroom, he got up and got moving, put on the radio (a music station, since she liked that) and cracked open eggs above a simmering pan. It felt natural. Especially when Lucy emerged in her street clothes and slipped around him to the coffee maker, as if this was a regular morning for them.

Maybe it was.

Pouring her cup, Lucy moved past him to the breakfast bar when he stopped her at the last moment, impulsive.

Her brows raised. "What?"

Before all the bullshit, Isabelle and him had been an easy match. They were made of the same cloth: pragmatic, straightforward, efficient. Though Tim did truly love her, he held different emotions for her than now for Lucy. This felt... insurmountable. Indescribable. His mouth opened and closed, yet nothing in the English language could explain what he experienced each second of the day when he was with her and when he wasn't with her. He felt himself going mad. Tim was in love with Lucy.

Figuring their staring match had gone on too long, he dropped her elbow and crossed his arms instead. "I love you."

Lucy blinked. "W-what?"

Tim caught what he said a beat too late. What the fuck. "Yeah."

"Um... okay." She set her cup down and nervously clutched onto her necklace. Tim felt himself being ripped in all directions by monstrous tides, not being in control rather uncharted territory. "Can- can we talk about this after... work? Please?"

Tim grimaced. "And sit it in the shop together all day? That'll be worse than your last day as boot."

"Well," she sputtered, decidedly taking a step back. "I'm sorry, but you kind of sprung this on me, so..."

"I know," he rushed. "I know that. But you can't deny something is..." God, he hated this. He hasn't done this in years. Mustering the courage, he continued with, "there. You're a good cop, Lucy, you know it, too."

She groaned, exasperated. "Please don't make this about our job."

"I'm out of my depth here, Lucy!" he exclaimed. Frustration rose. "Just- let's finish the conversation now. I can't do it later."

"Can't or won't?"

"Lucy."

Her face steeled in a way he hadn't seen before. Her lips set in a thin line, jaw taut, yet her eyes shimmered with unbridled emotion that only she possessed of. He thought back of the infamous wedding, prior to the abduction, of how beautiful she looked, of her red lips stretched in a teasing smile. He remembered just how great that moment felt, that if he could, he'd prolong it.

"Tim..." she whispered. Her saddened tone held no hint of silver lining, his shoulders dropping with defeat. "We've lost... I can't lose more people that I love."

He latched onto her hands in a snap. Suddenly, the words came to him. "You won't though. You won't lose me."

Lucy shook her head, unshed tears welling, though didn't let go. "You can't promise that. Jackson didn't think he'd die so soon either."

"But is that really the thing that should hold us back? Life is unpredictable. Tomorrow, it could all be over for us."

"Tim."

He smiled. "Lucy."

And then she hugged him. Her arms tightly wrapped around him and he reflexively followed, cradling the back of her head and holding her close. Whatever happened after this, he'd take it; for now, his heart beat in sync with hers and a swooning sense of adoration filled his chest.

"I love you," she whispered in his shirt.

Oh, man. Nothing beat her uttering those sweet words to him. His nose pressed in the crown of her head and let the smile stretch to a beam. "You're never gonna lose me, Chen."

Her chin ticked up and that was all he needed.

A kiss before his morning coffee felt like a good place to start.

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@alphinias @smolfangirl @tim-lucy

#oh look i did it anyway #chenford #the rookie fanfiction #post 4x01 #otp: save me a dance

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