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wondernimbus · 4 years ago

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two sworn enemies pt. 2 — draco malfoy

pairing: draco malfoy x female!reader

summary: maybe being fancied by draco malfoy isn’t so bad, after all.

requests are closed for now. please refrain from plagiarizing my work!

click here to read pt. 1!

"Why is it so bloody cold?"

[Y/N] is decked out in full winter apparel; a knitted Gryffindor sweater, ear-muffs, and a scarf that she has half of her face buried in.

Sitting in the Quidditch stands with the rest of her friends, she grumbles, "It's not even a Gryffindor match. We don't really have to be here freezing to death."

"Well, it's common courtesy," says Hermione, but she's just as cold as [Y/N] is; there's bits of snow stuck in her hair and the tip of her nose is pink.

Ron snorts loudly. “We’re here to watch Slytherin lose," he says matter-of-factly, still in the process of smearing streaks of blue paint across his cheek.

[Y/N] watches him, nose scrunched. "Well, aren't you the Ravenclaw fanatic."

He gives her a grin and holds out the small tub of paint. "Want some?"

She bunches up her lips in thought, then reaches out to take it. Annoyingly enough, Ron pulls back at the last moment, grinning wider than ever, and says, "Or d'you want to show support for your boyfriend Malfoy? Hermione, why don't you turn this green—"

[Y/N] dives over Hermione and Harry to smack Ron round the head, only for the pair to hold her back and push her into her seat.

Exasperated, Hermione huffs, "Honestly, Ronald, will you stop bringing that up?" She glares at him. "You know fully well [Y/N] doesn't like it."

Ron (and Harry, although he isn't as boisterous about it as the redhead), thinks that the "blond ferret" taking a fancying to her is one of, if not the most hilarious thing to have ever happened in history. Annoyingly enough, Ron has made it a habit to tease her about it every chance he gets—this one being one of them.

"If I didn’t know better, I’d have thought Ron fancied Malfoy with how much he talks about him," grins Harry. This earns him a smatter of blue paint across his face; Ron had flicked it at him.

With one last eye-roll, [Y/N] tears her gaze away from Ron and digs her nose further into her scarf. It really is very cold; snow is falling from the sky, seeping into her clothes, some landing on her hair and on her face. Thankfully there's not so much of it that the players on the pitch wouldn't be able to see around them, but still—[Y/N] imagines that it'd be a lot colder for them, having to fly around the stadium with the cold wind whipping at their robes.

There’s a buzz of loud chatter hanging in the air as conversations from all around them overlap over one another. The entire stadium is slowly filling up; students trickle into the stands, a majority of which have adorned themselves with blue accessories as a show of support to Ravenclaw. One side of the stands, however, is entirely green. Through the snow, she can see a big serpent-shaped balloon hovering over the Slytherin side.

"They’re coming out!" someone exclaims.

Sure enough, when [Y/N] looks down at the pitch, players from both teams have appeared and congregated at opposite ends of the pitch. Slytherin and Ravenclaw; whichever house wins will play Gryffindor for the house cup. Most bets are on Slytherin, but [Y/N] would have to be dead before she is caught anywhere supporting them.

"Look, it's [Y/N]'s boyfriend," gushes Ron.

More out of habit than anything, [Y/N] shoots the redhead yet another brief, scathing look. Draco Malfoy is there, even though he's nowhere near being her boyfriend, pale face set into a stoic expression of calm as he stands with the rest of his team, one hand on his broom and the other on his hip—and this specific image has her thinking back to what happened two weeks ago on this very same pitch, except the stadium was empty and it was only the two of them on the grounds; when he'd confessed to liking her.

As if Malfoy has somehow heard her thoughts over the noise of excited chatter coming from all over the stands, he looks up, eyes sweeping the seats in search for someone before finally, they land on her.

When he meets her gaze, [Y/N]'s breath isn't knocked out of her chest, nor does she start blushing madly. But she doesn't burn red with annoyance, either. All she does is stare at him, eyes narrowed, watching as his lips split into a wide grin and he raises his hand to wave at her.

She rolls her eyes, but thankfully—thankfully, the scarf tucked around her neck, reaching up to her nose, conceals the smile that tugs at her lips.

"May I ask everyone to please find themselves in their seats before the match begins," McGonagall’s voice echoes around the stadium, giving [Y/N] a reason to break eye contact.

She tears her stare away from Malfoy’s, inhaling a deep breath through her nose, feeling oddly exhilarated.

But this isn't anything new. That slight feeling of breathlessness, that unfamiliar sensation tickling at her stomach whenever she spots a certain someone in the hallway; she's been feeling it a lot lately, and though the cause seems to be pretty obvious, that is another thing she'd have to be caught dead before doing: admitting that she reciprocates some of Malfoy’s.. peculiar feelings.

"And they're off!" Dean Thomas announces. [Y/N] watches as the players soar high into the air until they're mostly level with the stands, a blur of blue and green robes rapidly zooming around the pitch. Slytherin is already in possession of the quaffle; not a surprise, considering Ravenclaw isn't exactly known for their exceptionally talented Quidditch team.

Malfoy, meanwhile—[Y/N] tells herself that the way her eyes dart around the pitch in search of a certain platinum blond is because she wants to watch the game properly and not for other reasons.

She spots him hovering somewhere above the rest of the players, face screwed up in concentration as his gaze moves around the pitch in search for the golden snitch. He looks even paler in winter, set against a backdrop of a cloudy sky and snow—

[Y/N] jars herself out of her thoughts and blinks, side-eyeing her friends (specifically Ron) to make sure they hadn't seen her.. observing the Slytherin seeker. (Not like it matters; it's not as though she fancies him, but Ron would certainly take it the wrong way.)

"Go Ravenclaw!" Ron practically screeches, waving his Ravenclaw banner in the air—when did he get that? "Kick Slytherin’s arse so Gryffindor can crush you in the finals!"

[Y/N] snorts. "Have it all thought out, don't you, Ron?"

"Go on and cheer for your Slytherin boyfriend, [Y/N], no one's stopping you," says Harry, grinning. She turns to face him, mouth open in disbelief, and lets out a quick breath of incredulous laughter.

"So, Harry," [Y/N] says, suddenly deadpan. ”I see you've chosen Ron’s side."

Harry snickers, then shrugs.

"Oh, Malfoy’s seen the snitch!" someone shouts from beside them. [Y/N] turns back to the game to see Malfoy zooming down the pitch, clutching the front of his broom as he swerves past Slytherin and Ravenclaw players alike in pursuit of the tiny golden ball all the way on the other side of the stadium, where [Y/N] and her friends are sat. He has the upper hand—Ravenclaw's seeker is only just now starting to fly after him, but she's a good distance behind and Malfoy is gaining speed.

"He’s gonna catch it!"

"Ravenclaw's even worse than I thought," grumbles Ron, slumping down in his seat.

But just as Malfoy passes by them, somehow, despite the fact that he is in pursuit of the bloody golden snitch and on the brink of securing victory for his team, he slows down just the tiniest bit, and then, in true Malfoy fashion—theatric as always in his displays of affection—he catches her eye and yells “This one's for you, [Y/N]!”, a grin on his face before he hurtles down the pitch, stretching out his hand towards the fluttering snitch—

"Malfoy’s got the snitch!" Dean Thomas screams into his microphone. "Slytherin wins!"

[Y/N] stares, feeling oddly warm despite the wintry weather, as Malfoy spins around in mid-air, triumphantly holding up the snitch for the rest of Hogwarts to see.

"Blimey," gapes Ron, wide-eyed, staring not at the Slytherin seeker but at [Y/N]. "That was—"

[Y/N] looks away from Malfoy to meet Ron's gaze, maintaining indifference. "He’s quite the charmer, isn't he?" she mutters, and hopes that her friends will think that the blush on her cheeks is because of the cold and not because of something—someone else.

But that's ridiculous. It is because of the cold, isn't it?

"It may be Malfoy," says Ron slowly, shaking his head, "But you can't deny that was bloody romantic. Felt like I was watching something out of one of those Muggle films."

"Yeah, we'll have to ask him for tips," says Harry, and starts laughing when [Y/N] rolls her eyes in response.

—

Malfoy may have stopped sending her Howlers, but that hardly matters because he has found every other way to pester her.

This includes consistently yelling out her name and shouting random pick-up lines every time he spots her in the hallway, as well as sending people to do her bidding—no longer first-years, but Crabbe and Goyle, who show up at random intervals everyday presenting her with a batch of different pastries. She always sends the pair off, but only after Ron and Harry accept said pastries for themselves.

"Blimey, this is heavenly!" gushes Ron, taking a passionate bite off of his second red velvet cupcake. "You sure you don't want a bite, [Y/N]? Hermione?"

[Y/N] offers him an exasperated smile. "No, thank you, Ron."

"Don’t thank me, thank your boyfriend."

The four of them walk into the dingy Potions classroom. Snape is nowhere to be seen, but it's only a matter of time before he swoops in all bat-like, so [Y/N] and Hermione quickly take a seat at their regular desk, right next to Ron and Harry.

"Have you done your homework?" asks Hermione, pulling out an assortment of parchment from her bag.

[Y/N] hums in response. "I doubt mine is half as good as yours, but hopefully I’ll scrape an acceptable."

"Oh, you're a good student, [Y/N]. Don't bring yourself down."

"Hard not to when I’m sitting next to the brightest witch in our year," she nudges Hermione’s shoulder, smiling. Hermione huffs, rolling her eyes, but it's clear by the pleased look on her face that she doesn't hate [Y/N]'s honest flattery as much as she lets on.

[Y/N] drums her fingers on the desk to pass time, not quite paying attention to the students filtering into the classroom. Or at least not until one of them calls her name and drawls, "Is someone sitting here?"

[Y/N]'s head snaps around to see none other than Malfoy, gesturing to the desk to the left of hers and Hermione’s. "Mind if I,” he pauses, grinning, "Slytherin?"

She purses her lips into a thin, tight line, inhaling deeply as she fights to keep her cool. Yes, there are times when Malfoy's gestures have her questioning her own hatred for him, but this—this is not one of them.

"That," she says, voice mostly level. "Is your seat, Malfoy. I don’t see why you have to ask me."

Which is a lie. [Y/N] knows why, of course. To get her attention. To woo her. But part of her wishes that Malfoy would realize that everything he is doing, from the overbearing pick up lines to the cupcakes to his constant public declarations of love, isn't something that [Y/N] thoroughly enjoys. Does she want him to stop yelling at her in the hallways? Yes. Does she want Crabbe and Goyle to stop bumbling up to her everywhere she goes (outside of the girl's bathroom is one example) offering cupcakes and pie and tarts? Yes. But does she want Malfoy to stop trying entirely?

Maybe not. Maybe part of her wants to give him a chance. He does seem to truly hold feelings, judging from his confession back at the Quidditch stadium, unless he's a terribly good actor.

And it wouldn't just be him she'd be giving a chance, either. Perhaps she'd also be doing so to herself. Because, over the past month, it's baffled her how quickly her feelings for him have shifted. Or maybe it's not a change of feelings, but rather realization that under all that sneering and pureblood prejudice, Draco Malfoy is a boy.

An annoyingly attractive one.

But there is so much more that [Y/N] dislikes about him. His snootiness. His arrogance. His lack of consideration for other people's feelings. He may be tall and lithe and undeniably handsome, and he may have very soft-looking platinum blond hair and stormy grey eyes like dark clouds, but he is also a prick. And that wins over everything else, no matter how.. visually pleasing he is.

So when a paper bird flutters in front of her halfway through the lesson, when Snape’s back is turned, [Y/N] hesitates. She knows fully well who it's from, despite not having to look to the side and meet his gaze.

From beside her, Hermione whispers, "Get rid of it, before Snape sees."

Exhaling, [Y/N] snatches the paper bird and quickly unfolds it.

She doesn't know what she's expecting to see, but it's certainly not the words "meet me at the Astronomy tower after dinner" scribbled across the parchment. And with a drawing of a face blowing kisses, no less.

[Y/N] sighs.

—

[Y/N] has no real feelings for Malfoy, so succumbing to his mysterious evening request at the Astronomy tower shouldn't mean anything.

Scratch that: it doesn't mean anything. Not to her. (Or so she tells herself.) This is a chance for her to tell Malfoy to sod off and to stop courting her. And for good, this time. No matter what that annoying little voice inside her head tells her, she can't possibly even consider the idea of actually giving in to him. (And to herself.)

So she's going to put a stop to it, once and for all.

"I’m going," she decides over dinner, slamming her palms down on the table.

"Going where?" asks Harry.

"The Astronomy tower," she replies resolutely.

"What, to go star-gazing?" Ron snickers. [Y/N] glances at him and realizes, quickly, that telling them had slipped her mind—she'd been far too preoccupied with her own conflicting thoughts.

She shifts in her seat. She doesn't necessarily need to tell them, does she? It's not as though it's important enough to share. And besides, Ron would only badger her about it. Mercilessly. [Y/N] can already picture him in her head, talking about Malfoy and snogging under the stars and Merlin-knows-what-else.

"Nevermind," says [Y/N], taking a bite out of a muffin and looking away. They don't need to know; it's not as though it's important.

—

After [Y/N] has walked up all of the stairs to get there, only taking one or two shortcuts, she's out of breath, but she creeps into the Astronomy tower anyway. It’s mostly dark save for the faint moonshine filtering in from the open sides, and, well—there he is.

Malfoy’s arms are crossed over his chest, his back mostly turned as he stands dangerously close to the railing, looking out over the dark landscape. Dim light catches on the side of his face, illuminating the grey of his eyes.

The curve of his nose.

Pale skin.

White-blond hair.

[Y/N] finds herself staring, one hand on the doorframe as though for support, brows furrowed in the middle in a slight frown as she watches him.

He looks lost in thought. Even from a few feet away, [Y/N] can see the far-off, distant look in his eyes. Like storms brewing behind dark clouds, she thinks to herself. It’s a quiet little whisper in the back of her mind that has her heart doing odd little flips inside of her chest that she never knew it was capable of.

But then she blinks.

This is the last thing [Y/N] needs. To see Malfoy stripped of his arrogance—to see him as he is, bathed in moonlight, glowing, almost. To look at him and to see a boy with eyes like molten silver and nothing more—it's the last thing she needs to convince herself that she doesn't feel something for him that isn't hatred.

No, she doesn't need this.

She turns around, breath caught in her throat, and starts walking down the steps. Accidentally, stupidly, her foot catches on a metal step and a loud clang echoes around the silent tower.

[Y/N] pauses, eyes wide.

"[Y/N]?" Malfoy's voice says. He can't see her. It’s too dark, and [Y/N] is too far down the steps.

She swallows. But instead of dreading what could come, she finds herself waiting, half-hoping that he'd check the staircase, that he would see her and—

And then what?

[Y/N] rushes down the steps, ignoring the loud noise her footsteps make on the way. This is the last thing she needs.

—

[Y/N] doesn't like Malfoy.

[Y/N] doesn't like Malfoy, and she is determined to make that clear. (Both to herself and to her friends, although the former seems to be taking a lot more convincing.)

"What is there to like about him? He’s nothing but an annoying pain in the arse who has an overwhelming amount of pride and arrogance simply because of his blood—which is not only something that he never rightfully earned but is also something that shouldn't even bloody matter, except he thinks that it does solely because he is an absolute nutter who has nothing better to do with his life other than leech off of his parents' money and shove it in other people's faces."

Ron meets Harry’s gaze from across the table, who seems to be trying very hard not to laugh. Swallowing down a forkful of pancakes, Ron looks back at [Y/N]. "I’m sorry," he begins slowly. "But remind me again why we're talking about Malfoy?"

"I’m not finished, Ronald," [Y/N] snaps, shooting him a dirty look. Ron raises his eyebrows. "As I was saying before someone so rudely cut me off, Malfoy is a nasty little git who finds joy in making other people suffer. he probably has tiny puppies locked up inside his basement just so he can laugh in their faces and revel in their misery because he is that horrible of a person—"

Harry lurches with poorly suppressed laughter.

"An absolute terrible excuse for a human being! He basks in other people's humiliation—mine, for example!—and I would much rather snog the Giant Squid than ever actually consider his—" She pauses, gritting her teeth. "Odd.. requests."

"It’s not like he's asking you to murder house-elves," Ron mutters.

"Something that I would rather do than date him!"

"[Y/N]!" Hermione gasps, looking genuinely offended as she, for the first time since they'd arrived at the Great Hall for breakfast, looks up from the homework she's rushing to finish. (As if her five pieces worth of parchment aren't enough—Flitwick had only asked for three!)

"Sorry, Hermione," [Y/N] says, offering her an apologetic look that she only half-means. This quickly turns into a fierce look of challenge as she swivels back around in her seat to face the redhead sitting next to her. "Honestly, since when have you started defending Malfoy?"

Ron blanches. "I’m not defending him!" he says indignantly, setting his fork down on his plate. "It’s just.. yeah, it's a bit odd that he's declaring his undying love for you out of bloody nowhere, but he's stopped badgering us, hasn't he? Nasty little ferret hasn't said a word to Harry for weeks! And that goes for me and Hermione, too!"

[Y/N] narrows her eyes at him. "So you think it's great that he's stopped annoying you at the cost of my suffering?"

"What suffering!" Ron exclaims. "He’s been treating you like a bloody princess!"

"Oh, why don't you just snog him yourself, then, if you think so highly of him?"

Ron’s jaw drops in shocked offense.

"Alright, that's enough!" Harry announces, reaching over the table to shove the two apart from each other. "Why doesn't one of you switch seats with me before you end up strangling each other?"

"I don't know, Harry," [Y/N]'s lip curls. "I might have to hold Ron back before he goes running off to his ferret prince—or should we just let him? Merlin knows he'd love to, won't you, Ronald?"

Ron’s teeth are gritted; his eyes dart around the food on the table as though looking for the most effective weapon. He seems to be choosing between a green apple and rhubarb pie.

Thankfully, Ron never gets to take his pick. The bell rings, saving everyone in the Great Hall from witnessing what could have possibly been a brawl between friends. "Come on, let's go," says Harry quickly, relief evident in his tone of voice as he ushers the pair to their feet. "Wouldn’t want to be late for class."

—

[Y/N] doesn't like Malfoy.

[Y/N] doesn't like Malfoy, but why does she find herself staring at him whenever she comes across him in the hallway the next day? Why, when Malfoy meets her gaze, does she look away and pretend to be immersed in something else?

And why in the bloody hell, when Malfoy playfully winks at her during Potions class, does she find it very, very hard not to smile?

She walks out of the dungeon classroom in a hurry with Ron, Harry, and Hermione, not wanting to spend a minute more in Malfoy's presence; she doesn't particularly enjoy being suddenly hyperaware of every move he makes, every little glance he sends her way when he thinks she isn't paying attention. It’s as though something in her system has gone awry. Is that why her heart feels like it's about to hop right out of her chest? Is that why she can't stop wondering what would've happened if she'd stayed at the Astronomy tower?

"Hey, wait up!” Harry calls loudly as they walk up the stone steps leading away from the dungeons and into the main hallway, which is bustling with students.

[Y/N], who had been walking far too fast in front of the three, looks back over her shoulder and sees that they're a few feet away. She stops, seemingly flustered, and waits for them to catch up.

"You look like you've wet your pants," says Ron.

"I’m not you, Ron," she retorts.

"Oh, can you two please stop bickering for once?" says Hermione, exasperated.

From behind the three, Draco Malfoy emerges from the potions classroom and begins walking up the stone steps. [Y/N]'s hands clench into fists at her side as she discretely presses her back to the stone wall at her sides.

The blond doesn't even as much as glance at Ron, Harry, and Hermione as he passes by them on the steps. [Y/N], however—once Malfoy has reached the step below the one she's standing on, he pauses, no less than two feet away from her, and quirks an eyebrow.

"What?" [Y/N] scowls, trying not to look at the strand of blond hair dangling in front of his eyes.

Malfoy’s gaze dances over her face. "Was it you?"

She meets her friends' eyes over Malfoy's shoulder. Ron and Harry have their eyebrows raised; Hermione looks concerned. [Y/N] takes a moment to compose herself—tries to force her heart back into her chest—before she folds her arms across her chest and looks at the Slytherin. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"At the Astronomy tower," Malfoy says, and moves up one step so that he's standing on the same one she's on. A foot away. "I heard someone last night, while I was waiting for you."

Oh, Merlin.

"You came, didn't you?" he presses on.

"No," [Y/N] lies, and hates how defensive she sounds. She shifts a little on her feet, her eyes skirting away to look at a random spot behind Malfoy. "I was.. at the library. Doing things of actual importance."

There’s a slight pause as Malfoy's nose wrinkles. "Must’ve been someone else spying on me, then," he finally says through a scoff, but [Y/N] knows disappointment when she sees it. He rolls his shoulders back and puts on his signature smirk, inclining his head towards her as he takes another step up the stairs. "Better hurry and give me an answer, [Y/N]," he tells her, grinning. "Before one of my admirers get to me first."

[Y/N] watches as he walks up the steps and disappears into the hallway.

"The library?" a voice says incredulously. She turns back to Ron, whose face is scrunched in disbelief. "No, you weren't! We were waiting for you there and you never came."

[Y/N] folds her arms across her chest indignantly but doesn't respond, instead walking up the stone steps.

"Malfoy said he was waiting for you at the Astronomy tower," says Hermione slowly as they trail after her; [Y/N] speeds up her pace. "Is that why you mentioned going there during dinner last night?"

[Y/N] emerges into the main corridor first. "No, I didn't."

"Yes, you did!" bursts Ron, sounding downright triumphant.

"Congratulations, Ron, you don't have the memory range of a teaspoon, after all," [Y/N] mutters, looking around. Malfoy is walking down the hallway a few feet ahead of them, Crabbe and Goyle at his side.

Ron ignores her. "I bet you did go. I bet you did spy on him—" And then he gasps, looking as though he's unearthed the secret of life. "Merlin’s beard, you really do fancy him, don't you?"

[Y/N]'s footsteps falter. Ron, Harry, and Hermione stop right with her.

Hermione is the only one who doesn't look stunned out of her mind. Looking between the two boys, she rolls her eyes and scoffs. "Honestly, is that so hard to believe?" says Hermione, frowning. "I understand that it's Malfoy and he is a prick, but [Y/N] is perfectly entitled to fancy whoever she likes." She turns to [Y/N]. "It’s fine, [Y/N], you don't have to feel guilty about it. Anyone would catch feelings if someone started doing such sweet things for them, even if it were someone like Malfoy."

"Blimey," says Harry, breathless. "Which part sealed the deal, [Y/N]? The pick-up lines? Or was it the cupcakes?"

[Y/N], who had been opening and closing her mouth like a fish blown out of water, finally stops trying to find words that just aren't there and instead drags her palm across her face in frustration. "I don't.." she says, sounding defeated, but really—now that she's faced with such confrontation, it's easier to admit to herself that maybe.. maybe she does fancy Malfoy.

Ron’s lips have split into a jubilant grin. ”I called it!" he says, smacking Harry's shoulder. "Bloody knew it!"

Hermione reaches out to rub [Y/N]'s back. "Don’t feel too bad about it, [Y/N]. I sort of knew—you looked at him differently after he confessed to you on the pitch."

[Y/N] sighs, realizing that no amount of denying it will convince her friends. Or herself.

She does fancy Malfoy.

Properly acknowledging it—finally admitting it to herself—is oddly relieving. She’s been keeping her feelings cooped up inside of her chest despite the fact they are so much bigger than her, and now that she's letting them burst free.. now that she's coming to terms with them..

Well. It’s not the worst feeling ever.

Ron is still beaming, looking as though he's won the lottery. And apparently, in a way, he has: "Fred and George said it'd take you a month longer to give in. I said it'd take you less—guess I’ve won myself two galleons!"

[Y/N]'s mouth falls open. "You bet on this?"

Ron raises his eyebrows, as though surprised to hear that she didn't know. "Uh, I and the entire bloody castle."

Struck by a sudden burst of both annoyance and confidence, [Y/N], scowling, detaches herself from her friends and strides down the hallway towards Malfoy, full of intent. He hasn't noticed her yet; his back is still turned, but she catches up to him easily. And when she does, she unceremoniously bumps her shoulder into his and grabs his hand, quickly interlacing her fingers through his.

"What the hell—"

Malfoy, obviously taken aback, tries to pull his hand away, sneering, until his gaze lands on [Y/N].

"Keep walking, Malfoy," she says scathingly, not quite looking at him.

Baffled, Malfoy stares at her, then down at their hands, which are now tightly interlocked between them. [Y/N] scowls resolutely at the hallway ahead of her.

And then Malfoy laughs, more out of disbelief than amusement.

"Keep walking," [Y/N] repeats, this time turning to look at him, fighting to keep her gaze indifferent. The last thing she wants Malfoy to know is that there is an onslaught of tiny little butterflies rampaging in her stomach and a tingly feeling spreading from their hands all the way up her spine and into her heart.

Malfoy’s lips tug up into a wide grin—a real one, [Y/N] thinks. Not an arrogant smirk or a deprecating sneer; one that she can't ever recall seeing. But now that she has, she finds herself wishing he'd do it more often.

[Y/N] tugs him along as she walks, feeling the stunned stares of her friends boring into her skull from behind. (Ron is going to have a field day about this.)

"So," Malfoy begins, and she doesn't have to look at him to know that he's still grinning down at her. "Changed your mind, haven't you?"

[Y/N] rolls her eyes; she doesn't fail to notice the way that the students they're passing by are staring at them, eyes wide, whispering to themselves. "Isn’t this what you wanted?"

Malfoy shrugs. "Among other things."

She side-eyes him, muttering, "Does that include snogging?"

He makes an amused sound at the back of his throat. "You said it, not me."

[Y/N] has to grit her teeth to stop the corners of her lips from tugging up. They turn a corner down the hallway, disappearing from both their friends' views (assuming they haven't followed them). At this thought, [Y/N] takes a brief glance over her shoulder—and sure enough, there's a redhead peeking out of a group of very confused Ravenclaws.

Cursing Ron Weasley inside her head, she turns her gaze back ahead of her. ”I have Charms class next."

Malfoy raises his brows. "And what do you expect me to do with that information?"

"Walk me there," says [Y/N] briskly.

She can practically feel the surprise radiating off of the blond next to her. A moment later, he throws his head back in a loud laugh. "And you want me to be late to Transfiguration? It’s all the way on the other side of the castle."

[Y/N] hums. "Can’t even do that for the girl you fancy?"

There’s a beat of silence. His grip on her hand falters a little as he says, voice still nonchalant and yet at the same time holding an undeniable sense of sincerity, "I could if I knew she wasn't leading me on."

"She isn't," [Y/N] says, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye.

Malfoy is staring at her with his brows pulled in together just slightly at the middle, giving off the impression that he's trying to decide whether or not she's being serious. He slows down his pace until he comes to a full stop, urging [Y/N] to halt alongside him until they're standing in the middle of the hallway, oblivious to the stares following them and the redhead a mere few feet away.

"How do I know this isn't a prank?" says Malfoy, lip slowly curling as he narrows his eyes at her, the first few traces of suspicion etching itself onto his face now that the whole ridiculousness of the situation has finally sunken in. [Y/N] can't blame him; her antics—suddenly marching up to him in the hallway, grabbing his hand and walking with him as though they've been doing it for years—all of it is uncalled for after having ruthlessly turned him down so many times before. But [Y/N] can't delve into a discussion of her conflicting emotions—at least not right now—so she hopes, at least for now, that he will take her word for it.

She clears her throat. "Well," she begins, looking down at their hands; Malfoy’s grip has gone slack. "If I wanted to hold your hand, I’d do it because I wanted to. Not because I wanted to get a rise out of you." She lets her gaze go back up to his, brows rising in familiar challenge. "I don't stoop that low, Malfoy. You’ve been in love with me for years—shouldn't you know that by now?"

There are a few seconds in which the blond standing before her still looks at her with a scrutinizing gaze, lips set into a thin, hard line and his eyes swimming with conflict that [Y/N] wouldn't have been able to see from afar, but sees in perfect clarity now that she's standing a mere foot away from him. But then, after what feels like ages, Malfoy nods, slowly, frown smoothing out into an expression of—could that be relief?

"I will be late for Transfiguration, you know," he says, lips quirking up into a grin.

[Y/N] laughs. (A real one, Draco thinks to himself.) This time she doesn't try to stop herself from smiling; just lets her lips do so of their own accord. It feels nice. Freeing. "Better just one of us than two, don't you think?" she says, mirroring his playful grin. "And besides, Goyle can stand in for you. You two do have quite the resemblance."

"Oh, sod off."

And it really is very odd, because everything about this shouldn't feel right; they've been enemies for the longest time, and a year ago, [Y/N] would have been revolted at the mere idea of ever coming close to Draco Malfoy—but it does. That is, it feels right. Like they've been this way for ages and this playful, harmless banter is the most natural thing.

Draco isn't perfect—Merlin, does he have a long way to go—but if he means to stop being a prat as long as [Y/N] is at his side, then she is willing to venture into whatever has formed between them.

And if this little bond is going to involve any more of this—this being her and Draco exaggeratedly swinging their arms between them as he walks her to Charms class with their fingers still intertwined, snickering, waiting for one of them to start complaining about their arm sockets hurting—then maybe it isn't the worst thing ever, after all.

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miyams · 4 years ago

Text

SERENADE : INUMAKI TOGE IMAGINE 𔘓

• pairing : inumaki x f!reader

• summary : inumaki is your suitor and inlove with you however, he has a speech disorder which makes him unable to say words he meant for you.

• long imagine ahead

a/n : pls i hc just want to hear toge singing me to sleep :( ++ i also wrote a song he'll sing but there is an absence of melody, enjoy <3

TINK !

Y/N grunted at the sound of pebble hitting her windowpane. she tossed to the side and cover her face with blanket. it probably was just the wind.

TINK !

"Pst! Y/N..."

"Wha...?"

Slowly opening her eyes, she sat up and looked around the dark. She caught glimpse of the wall clock telling her that it was 12 midnight. Y/N heaved herself out of the bed and flinched as another pebble hit the thick glass.

"Damn kids..." She groaned, throwing it open.

"Screw you-" She paused midway as she saw who was standing outside.

Inumaki, her suitor, was smiling shyly, rare sight to see. He looked adorably gorgeous in his white oversized shirt and skinny jeans, while a blue jacket's hood is resting on his upper head. Apart from that, he was holding a guitar, strapped securely across his torso. Y/N blinked confusingly.

"When did you learn to play guitar huh?" She whispered but enough for him to hear.

He show her his fingers forming into a peace sign and simply answered, "...months."

"Ok but, what are you doing?!" She half-yelled, trying not to wake the neighbours.

As an answer, he strummed his guitar.

"I love you b-bitch.."

"What?!"

"I ain't never gonna stop loving you...B-bitch." Inumaki stammers as if he is not sure at what he's saying.

"I will literally punch Itadori if he's the reason why you're being a dork right now!" She hissed. "Go home! I don't have time for this!"

"No! L-listen...p-please!" Inumaki panicked.

Y/N crossed her arms and sat on the sill. Inumaki took this opportunity to show why he was actually adjusting the guitar strap, he strummed a few chords until it turned into a lulling sound.

Everynight without a sound

The stars climb up to the sky

Your eyes that holds the whole galaxy,

My heart grows when I look at you

I feel awkward from head to toe

I've been a fool for so many times

I'll brighten up your days

If that means I can make you stay

I may look so lost, but believe me it's true

That my heart only sees you

That I will only fall for you

Eventhough struggling to say every lines, he strummed again. Y/N hugged her knees, immersed and impressed to his song. Unknowingly, she was smiling at the guy. For long enough, she couldn't believe he never gave up just to hear her say 'yes' And if she were to be honest, she was actually falling too. She was just too shy admit.

Can we play Nintendo and cuddle till two?

I may be bad at games, but I'll never lose you

The shampoo that tickles on the tip of my nose

I wanna reach you until we're only an inch close

I'll take out the books for you

Just tell me and I'll hold you

If you need someone by your side unconditionally

Just look over at me

Because you're the only one I see

I may look so lost, but believe me it's true

That my heart only sees you

That I will only fall for you

It was short song; too short that she actually craved for more. Inumaki held his guitar tightly and stared at her with hopeful eyes. The girl's smile grew wider.

"Wait for me."

She hurriedly but quietly made her way downstairs, went out and opened the gates to see him up close. Inumaki blushed and slightly averted his gaze at the ground as Y/N approached. When she was standing in front of him, he rubbed his nape and chuckled.

"I'm.. I'm not that good at writing songs."

"It's perfect." She beamed.

Inumaki's sincere eyes met hers. His cheeks flushed even more. Y/N laughed at him since he looked like a freshly picked tomato.

"I..Ah..." He lightly grunted, not knowing what more to say.

"You know, you should be sleeping at this hour but you chose to come around and sing for me."

"It's.. It's pretty dumb, I know." He gulped. "I'm really sorry for waking you."

Y/N cackled and held her waist. "Why are you sorry? It is rare to hear you sing a whole song. You should be thankful that my ears were blessed!"

"R-really..?"

She nodded. "I like it Inumaki."

"I like you.."

"I know."

He smiled lightly. "Of course.. I do hope you feel the same because this.." He pointed at his chest. "I-it's been here for so long. Remember when you chased those guys who said I am a f-freak?"

He paused, gathering his words. "I fell for you because of that. It's pretty shallow but no one has ever stood up for me before until you came.. You..You're an amazing person."

"Are you sure that's how you feel? You might just be overwhelmed, Inumaki."

"If I were just overwhelmed, would've gotten over you these past few years. You know a lot of girls confess but it's really you. It has always been."

"Inumaki Toge..."

"I know...You never thought a friend would come courting you for half a year...I-I'm sorry if ever I made you feel uncomfortable..."

"I feel loved." She stated, staring at him. "I feel worth it it. It was never uncomfortable."

"That's nice..."

"And I want you to feel the same."

"Huh...?"

Without hesitation, Y/N stepped in and engulfed him in a big, tight hug. Inumaki, in a state of shock, widened his eyes as he tried to hug her back with shaking hands. The smell of his fruity and soft cotton candy cologne wafted inside Y/N's nose, making her bury her face in his apparel. Inumaki recovered and slowly made delicate strokes on her silky hair.

"Y-Y/N...is this.."

"Yes. I'll be your girlfriend."

He paused. The fact that she didn't stutter made him want to think that it was all a dream.

"C-can you say that again? I...I must've misheard."

"I said," The lady pulled away and locked gaze with him. "I'll be your girlfriend."

It was now or never. Inumaki immediately cupped her face and leaned in to share with her their first kiss. Y/N kissed back, wrapping her arms around his neck. There was a burst of butterflies inside them and it felt nice. Everything was so blissful until the lights in Y/N's house went on and out came her mom with a slipper.

"Y/N L/N!"

The new couple frantically parted. Y/N chuckled nervously and so did Inumaki. She knew she was doomed for sneaking oit late but it was worth it. With one last chaste kiss, she waved at her boyfriend goodbye.

"Hey.." Inumaki called her one last time.

She stood still, waiting for what he is gonna say, but the boy didn't open his mouth. Instead he show her his hand with a raised index finger and pinky (little) finger and an extended thumb.

Y/N smiled at him as she got what he meant. Her heart felt light. She felt good.

"See ya." He smiled as the gates closed.

It was a sign language saying that the person loves you.

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen imagines #inumaki toge #inumaki x reader #inumaki imagines #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagine #inumaki toge imagine

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barzzal · 4 years ago

Note

mat making you wet without even touching you and when he runs his fingers through your folds he has a smirk on his face and he's like "who made you this wet baby ?" but he already know the answer, he just want you to say his name

going home with mat in coquitlam does not only mean meeting his family. unfortunately, letting him take you back home also meant having to endure seeing him basked under the sun, half-naked, and all riled up playing spike ball with josty, fabbs, and tito during the barbecue dates they set to catch up.

you’ve been watching - no, staring at him for who knows how long whilst he’s to immersed in winning to even see how you’re so gone for for him. the only thing you’re holding onto was the red cup emma had given you filled with a rather strong punch for an afternoon affair.

the sound of your name catches you off guard when a pair of sweaty arms lovingly reached for you from behind. you were even too caught up in your sinful thoughts to notice how mat’s front pressed comfortably (yet dangerously) close to your behind.

“penny for your thoughts?” your boyfriend muses as he rest his chin on your bare shoulder.

you flutter your eyes trying to shake off your far too corrupted mind as you turn your head to look at him. “what?” you say nervously.

“tys is being too much of an ass so i’m taking a break.” he pouts, pulling away so he could turn you by your waist to face him. you let out a small chuckle, trying to drown the fact that you’ve been so soaked eversince mathew barzal happened.

“what’s wrong?” mat asks, obviously concerned with your weird demeanor. so, not that you were some kind of a saint or something, you shyly tell him what’s up. whispering how watching him get so competitive and worked up over a game turns you on.

you’d expect him to laugh or chuckle and find you all cute and adorable but he doesn’t. instead, he looks around the vicinity, ensuring that no eyes were exclusively placed on the both of you.

once he’s sure that everyone was too caught up doing their own thing to even care, mat takes you by the hand - determined to take you in the quiet hallway no one in the house ever comes to.

he towers over your frame, his hand pinning your waist against the wall so he could press his still sweaty self on you despite the fabric of his nike apparel evidently not doing him any good with his growing wood. mat’s ears are now hotter than before as he parts your legs, propping the other on his waist so your sundress rides up your now exposed thigh.

and once his long and determined fingers find your embarassingly wet region, a despicable smirk comes on his lips along with the lines that’s oftenly said in a deep voice and a much darker tone, “who made you this wet, baby?”

it’s wet weekends!

#wet weekends #mat barzal #mat barzal imagine #mat barzal smut #nhl smut #HEH

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wevegottogetaway · 4 years ago

Text

Thanks fo’ saving my ass tonight

I got so much going on with uni, but I couldn’t resist. If you too are queen/king of procrastinating uni work, you have my deepest support! Hope you enjoyed x

TW: none (except fool language)

Part 2 - Part 3*

Office parties have never been y/n’s cup of tea, the idea of enjoying yourself in the very place people usually count down the hours before they can leave, is rather ludicrous in her humble opinion. Alas as the boss’ personal assistant, she not only had to plan and organize the whole shebang but her presence was also required, supervision purposes and all that. The only solace sweetening the deal for her was that she’d be in charge of the catering too, and y/n learnt very early on that good food and greater booze could make any boring work function at least tolerable.

Now that the festivities are in full swing, conversation flowing almost as heartily as the champagne in the guests’ eager mouths, y/n thinks she did quite well. The vast open space of the office is decorated with taste, the music set at the perfect level as to not overpower the boring chitchat bouncing off its walls, and to her greatest delight, the catering company she hired has truly outdone themselves. All in all, everybody seems to be having a grand time, and y/n decides that’s reason enough to officially relieve herself of her supervisor’s duties.

As she scans over the assortment of canapés, mini-quiches, crudités and other mouth-watering ambrosias, y/n fails to notice the tall figure casually approaching her. She’s in the midst of pondering whether she should try the humous or a cream cheese and salmon toast first, mouth salivating and stomach growling in appetite, when a raspy voice interrupts her inner battle, "I see m’not the only one who’s here just fo’ the food".

Her eyes pop off the delicious hors d’oeuvres to the sight gracing them next and she doesn’t know which is the most appetizing. Because standing a few feet from her is Harry, vibrant smile and pretty dimples on show, as he leans over the verrines platter to pick the best-looking one. He’s wearing an olympic blue floral suit on top of a scandalously unbuttoned transparent shirt, a bold number that would grant anyone else looks of surprise and confusion but looked absolutely divine on his broad frame. Besides, after two years working at the office, everyone had gotten used to his unconventional fashion choices by now.

Y/n quirks an eyebrow in curiosity as she dips a cucumber stick in a bowl of humous, before quipping, "not a big fan of these things?"

Harry lets out a small chuckle in a ‘no kidding’ way, and attaches his emerald eyes to hers, "they’re kind of a drag, if m’bein’ honest."

She smiles at his admission, realizing they both share an aversion for mundanities, "I know right. Like, why party here where everyone has to be on their best behavior when we could be down at the bar without the boss gallivanting around?" she cries out in exasperation and not for the first time, Harry thinks she’s quite possibly the most endearing thing he’s ever seen. His smile widens the tiniest bit at her passionate rant, "my thoughts exactly. Do we even know what we’re supposed to celebrate?" The question makes her laugh, she wouldn’t have known either if not for her involvement in the affair, "well as the person behind this all drag," she give him a pointed look at his jeering choice of word, "it would be weird if I didn’t."

Harry’s face falls at the possibility of having offended her, but his uneasiness quickly dissipates when she starts laughing at him. "M’sorry, that came out wrong," he tells her before letting out a giggle of his own and y/n revels in the moment. The idea of interacting with him beyond the usual ‘here’s the presentation for today’s conference’ or ‘do you have the quarterly report ready’ is rather intoxicating for her already feeble nerves. "Don’t worry, I take no offense, I’m just as bored as you are," she reassures him with a smile, "the party is for a new potential investor, something about wooing them with some ‘corporate fun’. S’a load of bullshit if you ask me".

Harry nods at the explanation unimpressed, his boss’ intentions being the least of his worries. Aside from being the classic douche every manager typically insists on being, the guy has always made his distaste about him pretty clear, so Harry would rather focus on more interesting things. Like how beautiful y/n looks right now, her hair tied up in a loose bun at the top of her head, leaving a few strands to fall around her face. "You look amazing, by the way," he brings himself to say, though he thinks his compliment doesn’t even do her justice.

Y/n looks down at her own outfit then: a knee-length red dress composed of a skater skirt and a backless top that only holds with a couple pressure buttons clasped behind her neck. Her cheeks warm up to match the color of her apparel, betraying the timidity she’s always fallen victim of whenever he happened to be in her vicinity. Y/n’s never been one to shy away from her feelings or trip over her own words when facing her crushes, but there is something about Harry that teleports her right back to her sheepish 13 year-old teenage self. Also, she’s not too keen on office romances and the drama that usually ensues so she’s always made sure to stifle her blossoming attraction and keep their relation work-appropriate. Surely that must account for most of her awkwardness, doesn’t it?

Her eyes trail back to his face and her response comes in a shy euphemism, "thank you, you clean up quite nicely yourself." It’s enough to quirk Harry’s lips in a bashful smile, their complexion evidently on edge as they tread uncharted territories. Professionalism has always regimented their interactions with kind but polite rigidness, neither of them quite inclined to cross that invisible line, but tonight seems to challenge that.

Tonight, Harry is resolute in his infatuation, no longer inhibited from social construct but driven by a quest for knowledge; anything that will help him decipher her carefully shielded crux. Tonight, he endeavors to scrape the edges of her rough diamond to expose the gem encapsulated inside, peel back the stoic layers of her exterior to find her unapologetic and intrinsic nature. Tonight, he is thirsty for secrets and confidential disclosures, and he won’t leave until he’s drained it all out of her. Unless she tells him to fuck off, obviously.

Harry keeps the conversation going as he browns the buffet for a new delicacy to snack on, "so, what would you be doing if you didn’t have to be here?" He wants to know everything, the present and the past, the good and the bad, the superficial and the substance, the messy and the orderly, but he figures he should start by what she likes to do in her own time. The things that loosen her up after a tense week at work, the things that will make her eyes shine with passion as she relates them back to his curious mind.

The question reaches her ears as she takes a sip of her drink, "mmm," she smiles around her glass before placing it back on the table, "-that’s easy. Playing pool with the gang at Gibson’s." Her answer spills without hesitation, a heap of follow-up questions already brewing up in Harry’s brain, but the foreign name is what beckons his attention first, "Gibson’s?" he echoes with a faint rumple pulling the skin between his eyes. Is that the name of a friend? A boyfriend? Out of all the questions he’s contemplated, y/n’s relationship status never crossed his mind. He’s always assumed her to be a single woman, the evidence of a significant other never present in her language and demeanor.

A wave of relief washes over him at her elaboration, "it’s a bar couple blocks from my place. It’s been my friends and I’s HQ ever since we all met." The sentiment has her eyes sparkle at the remembrance of all the happy memories the place hosted, and Harry stores the information in his mental list of all y/n’s soft spots.

"Sounds rad, so you play pool?" he inquires with enthusiasm. He’s been knows to play a game or two in his youth, though it’s been a hot minute since he’s felt the weight of the cue in his hands as he sinks ball after ball in their respective pockets. He remembers the elation of it all, the adrenaline coursing through his veins at each successful strike, and his heart flutters at the thought of ever sharing a game with her; she seems like the competitive type in the most entertaining way possible. Before his thoughts can spiral into much filthier realms, like bending her over the table mid-game when his own skills prevail and she turns into a sore-loser, y/n’s voice rings him back to reality.

"Uh uh, correction," her expression suddenly turns in false seriousness before she proves him right about her competing tendencies, "I win at pool." Her eyes are so full of confidence, a spice of mischief sparkling in their corner, she would have no difficulty persuading anyone of anything that passes the threshold of her mouth. Harry certainly doesn’t doubt her mastery of the bar game, but it doesn’t stop him from challenging her in a slightly elevated pitch, "oh is that so?"

Y/n only grins at the banter, not at all fazed by his taunting remark, "maybe you’ll have to find out for yourself." She reaches for another snack, not taking her come-hither look off his handsome face, and Harry revels in her flirtatious advances, a smug smile taking possession of his lips as he surfs of the same wave of seduction. "Is that a challenge?" he philanders back, fueling the sensual back-and-forth they seem to have embarked upon.

"Not much of a challenge if I know I’ll win," y/n replies with cheek, her self-assurance once again burgeoning like sexy wildflowers sprouting from the ground underneath Harry’s feet, wrapping around his ankle and growing along his body to twine around his spellbound heart. He absolutely loves her unfaltering aplomb, finds it undoubtably sexy but he can’t let her know that just yet.

"Cocky."

"Confident."

They both chuckle at their repartee, enjoying this ping-pong of quick-witted banter they’ve never found in anybody else before. It’s like their intellects were meant to collide in galvanizing forces, the encounter of two fiery psychs too brilliant to one up the other.

Harry is mesmerized by their connection, if he knew sparks would fire this bright, he would have made a move ages ago. "Fuck, you’re something else," he shakes his head in incredulity before confessing, "definitely not what I expected."

Y/n’s chest tingles at his comment, a rivulet of liquid glee leaking through her arteries to pump her heart and her ego full of bliss, "Oh so you expected something, did you?" She punctuates her teasing with a thousand-watts power smirk, and Harry finds it strikingly alluring.

Not about to let her have the upper hand however, a burst of smugness crosses his features as he boomerangs her earlier allurement back to her, "maybe you’ll have to find out for yourself." It earns him a deep jazzy laugh rooted in her tummy and a tinge of pride swirling in his own. He wants to pry laugh after laugh from her belly until her last giggle, only relenting once the muscles in her chest are aching from unbridled joy.

Y/n sighs in content before taking a bite out of a mini-tartlet as she considers how to proceed in this much too flirty conversation. "So what would you be doing tonight, if not for this stupid party?" she returns his first question before realizing, "-wait a sec, what are you doing here if you hate these things so much? My presence was mandatory but yours isn’t."

"I’ll have you know I was coerced into coming too," he quips back in a fake defensive tone, hand pressing to his chest, "Mike from accounting begged me to tag along, he just broke up with his girlfriend so I didn’t have the heart to tell him no." The selfishness of the gesture softens her heart in a goo of adoration, but she can’t let him know that just yet.

"Softie."

"Chivalrous."

His comeback has her giggle, a rejoinder already tiptoeing at the edge of her lips, "see, who’s cocky now?" Her eyes are full of jest and lightness, somehow taking the weight of the party off his shoulders. Turns out, food and booze are not the only remedies for boring work functions, y/n’s company is just as effective if not more, and that’s with the guarantee of a hangover-less comes next morning. Harry is truly happy he decided to make an appearance tonight, a sentiment he definitely didn’t foresee for the night. The realization has him faintly shaking his head in amazement, his lips letting out another whispered "something else" softly enough that it doesn’t quite reach her already inflated ears.

"So did you have any plans tonight?" She reiterates the question not wanting to ever stop talking with him.

There are probably a hundred exciting plans he could have conjured up to come off half as intriguing as she seems to be, but instead he decides to go the honest route, "nah, I would have probably crash on my couch, this week’s been pretty hectic." His truth is confirmed by the faded blackness tinting the skin below his eyes, a proof of hard work and long hours under the heedlessness of a greedy superior. Y/n knows it all too well, having had firsthand experience with her boss’ jackassery. That’s why she directly inquires, "boss giving you trouble?"

Part of Harry is eager to steer the conversation back to more pleasant waters but he guesses talking a little bit about work was inevitable at some point, especially since they both share palpable distaste for their superior. "The maniac keeps giving me last minute reports like I’m expected to work all night along on his bullshit projects," he explains dejectedly before running his hand through his luscious curls in sign of frustration. "Barely finished in time fo’ the party tonight, I had to slip in his office to put the file on his desk, that fucker had already left."

Y/n listens attentively, her chest tightening in empathy at the recollection of his misfortune. She’s very familiar with the embittering feeling that comes with working your ass for someone that barely registers your efforts and dishes the office hours before you can even dream of clocking off. She’s faced the same scenario time and time again, including tonight, when she’d come up to lock the boss’ office hours after he left to get pampered for the party. She barely got time to make the double commute to and from her place, much less spend hours getting dolled up. She does remember the odd file on her boss’ desk though, "oh I was wondering what that blue folder was about, he never usually leave unattended paperwork on his desk."

Harry starts nodding in confirmation before stopping dead, eyes widened in distress, "wait, did you just say blue?" he asks in urgency.

Y/n frowns at his sudden agitation, her mind reeling to try and visualize the state of the surroundings she left several hours ago. She’s pretty positive she saw a blue binder laying there, not that she knows the ramifications of that simple fact, "yes I think so, why?"

The dire nature of the situation becomes painfully obvious as Harry’s face turns into a mess of dread and panic, "oh shit, oh fuck, no no no," the words keep tumbling from his mouth in a ramble of nerves. "So stupid, m’so fucked" he keeps muttering self-admonition in quiet anger, hands griping at the root of his hair.

Concern is starting to fester in y/n’s guts as she takes in his disheveled state, "Harry, Jesus, take a breath, tell me what’s going on," she steps closer to him, one hand softly holding at his biceps as she tries to connect their gazes.

Once his eyes plug into hers, pupils blown out in turmoil, he finally calms down enough to word out his mishap, "s’not the right file on his desk, I only use red binders for the reports." Spinning around out of her hold to shout his stress back to the wall in a loud "fuck!", Harry’s mind is caught up in a swirl of possible excuses to give to his boss, all sounding more ridiculous than the other. He can’t think of way to fix his mistake and escape the inevitable berating coming his way comes morning.

Fortunately for him, y/n is not about to let this happen, "it’s okay, we’ll fix this," she encourages. "What’s on his desk right now?"

Harry looks back at her then, not totally convinced that this all mayhem is salvageable. His boss is never going to tolerate this minor negligence, especially once he finds out the irrelevant material mistakenly slipped amongst his work. "My 14 year-old niece’s english project" the answer comes out as a question, a hint of self-deprecating humor lacing through his words. "Bloody hell, he’s gon’ have my head fo’ that one."

Harry is adamant in his doom, but if anything, y/n is not a quitter. "No he’s not. He hasn’t seen it yet, right? You said he was already gone when you brought the file."

He takes a long breath, "I suppose not."

"Guess it’s a good thing I have the keys to his office then, yeah?" She smiles proudly as a beacon of hope shines on his conflicted face. The forest green of his eyes seems to breath back to life in an endearing revival, effectively tugging at y/n’s heart’s merciful strings.

"Fuck, you’d do that fo’ me?" his shoulders loosen up in relief, the tension slowly simmering down to a gentle buzz, as he envisages the possibility of an illicit break-in. Well, as illicit as it may be, considering they have the keys. Still, best they don’t get caught snooping in the boss’ office, for both of their sake.

"Of course, silly. No questions asked," y/n answers with a smile, and her willingness to put herself in potential trouble, warms Harry’s heart from inside out.

"Y/n, you’re an angel, a life savior," he grabs her shoulders in each of his hands, his gratitude painted all over his soft traits. "Fuck, I could kiss you right now." The words fly out of his mouth without him realizing their significance after spending the last ten minutes coming onto her. And well, y/n isn’t too opposed to the idea either, and she thinks she might hold him to that promise in retribution for her saving grace when the time and space works better in their favor. "Alright Casanova, let’s get your ass out of this mess," she grabs her purse form the table and takes his hand to guide him through the cluster of people milling around the office space, eventually reaching the row of elevators across the room.

As they stand waiting for their lift to come, Harry starts fidgeting with nervous energy, feeling like a kid who’s about to get caught trying to steal straight from the cookie jar. "Shit, alright, we have to be discrete if we want to pull this off," he tells her, not taking his eyes off the room in case someone would look at them and read their plan straight off their guilty-looking faces.

"Says the guy in the flashy suit," y/n immediately counters, in an attempt to revive the playfulness of their synergy. The night was going swimmingly before the whole ordeal, and she’s convinced this foxy little adventure can only add to the appeal of an evening full of surprises.

Harry’s indignation at her dig teeters from his pouty lips, "hey! It’s not that bad." She giggles at his poor rebuttal, and as the doors of the elevator open, they quickly take a few steps inside.

"Harry, that suit is so loud, it could break the sound barrier," y/n teases as she eyes the crowd of people frivolously chatting away, while waiting for the door to close back.

"Thought I cleaned up nicely," he cheekily throws back her words from earlier, letting them resonate within the small confines of the elevator as they make their way up to their boss’ office.

She turns to face him then, a smile spreading on her supple lips, "don’t get me wrong, you look wonderful, just nowhere near decent for a secret spy mission."

Her words have him beaming back at her in a second, his mind fixated on her compliment rather than how impractical it is that his clothes are flashier than the Queen’s; in his defense, neither are y/n’s. "Damn, just got upgraded from nice to wonderful, this night is actually turning around," he chirps as the door open to the deserted hallway of the top floor.

"Alright, more action and less flirting, Styles," y/n playfully chides him. "Go get the right file, while I open his door, we should be quick in case he decides to bring the tour and his special guest up here." She sends him off with a tilt of her chin in what she knows to be the direction of his office, and Harry complies with ease and starts backtracking a few doors down, "yes ma’am."

While he’s gone to fetch the correct document from his office, y/n rummages through her purse to find the key of her boss’ office and unlock the door. Once she’s inside, she makes her way around the imposing mahogany desk commanding the space, and finds the imposter file sitting innocently on the polished wood. For pure curiosity’s sake, she starts leafing through its contents and lets a small chuckle as she takes in the endearing work of a young aspiring writer.

Her reading is interrupted by Harry’s hurried strides when he joins her in the room. "Here’s the damn report," he flings the folder on the desk next to his niece’s, red clashing with blue, mocking him for his slight negligence. As he absorbs the sight of y/n’s face engrossed in the teenage’s fiction, he moves slowly behind her, getting a glimpse at his niece’s whimsical words over her shoulder, before his eyes settle on the bare skin of her back.

Y/n welcomes his sudden proximity, has stranding on end as she feels the soft puffs of his breaths against her neck. "Your niece is quite the writer, does she always come to you for advice?"

She ignores the shivers running down her spine, and gulps when Harry’s voice greets her ears in a deep quiet hoarse, closer than she excepted, "usually, yeah. I was the one who got her into writing, so it’s kinda become our thing, I guess."

She smiles at his softness, "that’s really sweet," and draws in a long breath in a vain attempt to calm her jitters. She can almost feel his presence on her skin though they’re technically not touching, her fingertips tingling in anticipation.

Another frisson travels through her when he responds with a low "mhm," his nose slightly grazing behind her ear, taking in her beguiling fragrance. Jasmine and vanilla, fresh and soft, exciting and comforting at the same time; it suits her perfectly.

"Harry-" she doesn’t know what to follow the whisper of his name with. Careful? Not here? Please don’t stop? At this point, she wants nothing more than to succumb to his affections, regardless of their improper whereabouts.

Harry brushes the back of his index down the smooth skin of her back in a featherlike caress, "thanks fo’ saving my ass, tonight," he murmurs into her ear, before laying a small kiss behind it.

Y/n is exulting under his tender ministrations, her eyes closed to enhance the feeling of his touch. "Anytime," she breathes out as her head tilts backward, a hand coming behind his neck in a silent plea not to let go, and Harry smiles against her skin at her receptiveness, goosebumps of his own blossoming across his body.

His next words are out of his mouth before he can think, "mmm, I owe you a big one," his playful persona resurfacing now that the situation was handled. They snort in unison at the double-entendre, and Harry slides his free arm around her waist to bring her closer to his chest in silent remittance. Y/n doesn’t mind though, she kinda likes this boyish side of him, but she can’t let him know that just yet.

"Gross."

"Hilarious."

Their ping-pong of wisecrack is back despite the tension permeating the air. It’s the kind that speeds heartbeats and moistens palms in lustful anticipation, the kind that curtails people’s breath as their lungs fill up with voluptuous aphrodisia. "Will you let me kiss you? Show you all my gratitude? I really wanna have a taste, love," he pleads for her permission, and y/n is too consumed by desire to deny him, "have it."

In one swift move, he spins around and latches his eager lips onto her. Passion ensues, hands roaming all over each other to find the perfect hold; the back of a neck, the lapels of a suit jacket, a few strands of hair, the curve of an exposed ribcage, it’s all intoxicating but there is always more to explore. Their tongues are caught up in a heated tango of their own, swirling around each other to quench the thirst of passion, licking their lustful way around their mouths.

At one point, Y/n finds herself pressed against her boss’ desk, one leg around Harry’s waist as he attaches his hips to hers in a heated embrace that leaves them breathless upon parting. He rests his forehead against her temple as they both process the intimate exchange, not ready to burst out of this fairy bubble. "Fuck, been waiting to do that for a while," he exhales with a smile, still incredulous at the evening’s proceedings, and the girl nestled in his arms.

"Same," she agrees and gently cups his face to bring his eyes back to hers, barely believing the adoration and warmth swimming within his lovely olive irises.

Harry’s heart feels like a ticking bomb about to implode, the sweet taste of her lips already providing him with a fix he didn’t know he was addicted to. "One more," he demands against her mouth before diving into another searing kiss. This time his hands explore more meticulously, scavenging for other soft spots to add on to his mental list. The dimples in her back right above the curve of her ass seem to rival the area at her side right below the swell of her breast, but Harry is pretty sure he’ll find more sensitive spots in the near future. Hopefully.

Once again, the need for oxygen compels them to part way, but neither of them make a move to separate their tangled limbs. Y/n is reveling in the moment she’s been daydreaming about for months, "so good," she keeps whispering sweet nothing against his lips while rubbing her nose against the bridge of his.

Harry clears his throat as he regains his bearings, realizing that there are still very much in the middle of their boss’ office, a place they are not supposed to be in, doing stuff they’re not supposed to be doing. At least not here. "Let’s get outta here, yeah?" he brushes a strand of hair that fell in front of her face, "you can kick my ass at that game of pool as promised, and I’ll tend to yours once we’re back at my place, what’dya say?"

And well, how can one say no to that?

➪ Masterlist

#harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles writing #Harry fic #harry styles au #ofc #reader insert #coworker!harry #office au #fluff #flirting #harry styles fluff

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chromium7sky · 4 years ago

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The Devil Wears Armani| chapter 11

A/n: amg, finally updated this one 😭😭😭💖💖💖💖💖 you guys can follow this story with #damirae , #devilwearsarmani and #fashionistaau tag

2 weeks. It's been two weeks since the last video call. Raven have been pouring her attention on working the suit that she has planned for Damian Wayne to wear for the Gala.

She had done the cutting, the sewing and all, and what's left is doing the embroidery. She chosen the gold thread selectively which give the vivid glow and bring out the majestic value to the wearer.

The embroidery are complete within 95% thanks to a specified sewing machine which she bought with the price money she won before during the her first fashion competition. It helps alot.

The date of Gala approaching like crawling on the thread of time and for the final touch, she combined all the pieces into a handsome looking suit.

As she put the wardrobe on the mannequin, she took a step back and see it as a whole picture. With her both hands, she makes the photograph gesture to capture the feels of how Damian would look like if he wears them.

Contemplating and satisfied she felt after she iron the suit and store in special cover suit. She looked at the calendar and looks like she has extra two weeks before Gala.

Speaking of Gala, she wondered what would the dress look like since it was Damian who made for her? Would it be shoulder bare? Would it be one piece dress? Raven rubbed her chin as she wonder then she noticed herself on standing mirror. Slowly she spin to the left then to right as she look her body shape contour. If she was designing her own dress she probably went with thick fabric drape style. Simple, elegant and exclusive.

Her eyes glanced at the clock that's shows 10.30pm.

Wait.

She blink her eyes. How come she didn't thought of it. What would his design for herself? She did shown her sketches to Damian but won't he shown his? Curious, curious.

Raven imagine what if she asked, Damian would probably say, ' you don't trust me? Tsk tsk.' Raven sighed as her hand run down her face thinking about that. "Maybe I'll try to ask tomorrow."

Suddenly, a bleep sound indicate a message comes in. Raven blink then looked at her phone screen.

"Girl, You busy today?"

- Karen

It's been a while. Raven smiled then diligently answered the question.

"Not quite. Just finished designing a suit. What's up?"

She hit send.

Then came up another message on her inbox.

"We got party tomorrow at Viva La coast at Riverside. Wanna come?"

Raven narrowed her eyes then humming. Should she go or not? Perhaps she need a time off after that intense week. A little entertainment doesn't hurt.

"Sure. You pick me up?"

" For course, sis. 😘 See you at 8pm, tomorrow."

"On it.👌"

Raven smiled then landed on her bed. As she let out her relief sigh she put her phone at table nearby.

As she sleep, she dreamt of something pleasant. She's at fountain garden where surrounded by fragrance flowers and palm-like trees.

She notice her dress has gold accent along with silky texture clothes. Slowly her hands touched the dress she wear, felt it's smooth surface.

Her heart stop as she felt a hand holding her waist. Slowly she turn her head over her shoulder and -

BLEEP BLEEP BLEEP

Her eyes wide open as soon as she heard her phone alarm. She blink once then twice, trying to process her thoughts. When a sprinkle of dream remembrance filled in her her head, her cheeks start to blushed. Her hand quickly grab her pillow beside her and buried her face beneath it.

"O dear, don't tell me it's him that I'm dreaming about last night." She let out her sighed. She had fallen for him.

A message bleep chiming in her phone makes her peek under the pillow and quickly she reached for her phone.

A message from him.

'OMGOMGOMGOMGOMG' Raven's heart start racing. "Wh-Wha...H-How...." She tried to question reality, how on earth he's messaging her. Right now?

"You're awake?"

Raven bit her bottom lips as she look at her phone screen. Her finger diligently working on touch screen pad.

"Just awake. Can't sleep?"

She hit send button. Then for a few second she received his reply.

"I just had dream about you...

You look beautiful."

A dream? She blinked. Then another message comes in.

"Still busy working on the suit?"

Raven biting her lips to keep it as a secret but it's almost 25th like in 5 days away, so....why not? Her finger tapping the keyword on screen replying him.

"Actually I've finish the suit."

She replied. Another thought hit her and she quickly tapped it on the phone.

"I did promise making for dinner right? Maybe tomorrow?"

Again she send the text.

Interval in 2-3 second, her phone bleep it back.

"That would be great. I'll bring something as surprise."

Surprise? Raven mind start racing, mostly to that forbidden thoughts. What kind of surprise? She bit her lips and start typing.

"Well uh, I hope it's not a refrigerator you're bringing."

She shaked off those thought and try keep the conversation as innocent as possible.

"No. It's not. It's something, you probably would like it. 😏"

Raven looked at the emoji face he send. Did he send an emoji? Damian Wayne doesn't use emoji while texting or emailing.

"Well, alright then. See you tomorrow?"

She hit the send button.

Then a message came in.

"Can't wait to see you.♥️"

Raven flopped to her bed and her face now are red tinted. What is this? Why is this feeling so intense? She closed her eyes retracing her memory between them. Those bickering and end up with hot make out along intimate session in his office.

"I guess we should discuss about this terms of relationship." She talked in her pillow.

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

She has complete all the order that has been request by some local boutique and some are from online website. She's quite amazed with things that happens after the talk show incident where Damian said about Raven going to Wayne Gala this week.

People start to shift their attention to her especially her design clothes. Does Damian intend to promote her? She rubbed her chin then sudden, Mona, her assistant knock her door.

"Come in."

Mona peek behind the door, she smiled and slowly walk to her boss. " You have received a gift!" The assistant handled to her a parcel.

"A gift?" Raven whisper under her breath. Could it be Damian? Her eyebrows furrowed. She took out knife letter and slowly cut , unwrapped the parcel and she saw an apparel, black with velvet felt. There is the tag at the collar says Draco.

Her eyes widen. Draco? You mean Melchior Draco?

"Who is it? Your lover?" Mona feeling excited.

"No. This is from my competitor." Raven cover the box and push it away. Her head suddenly filled with painful memories about her and Melchior encounter. The way he flirt her before her first joining competition, the betrayal, and stolen her design to built his empire.

Her heart boiled with anger which in result she crumpled her paper nearby which made Mona a bit fall back by her intimidation.

"I'm sorry about that, Miss." Mona bow her head quickly apologize for not realise what is going on.

Raven snapped back from those memory and quickly look at the paper . " Oh!" She's surprise and quickly she try to straighten up the paper she crumbled. " No, no, it's okay, Mona. It's nothing." She smiled. " You can go now."

" Ah, alright then." She nod and walked to the door and-

" By the way, boss, there's a caller said he's from metropolis daily planet wanted to interview you about being guest at the gala." Mona turned to her as she spite out another appointment.

" Well, set it tomorrow then." Raven tidy up her table and throw the parcel to the bin nearby.

"Uh, you threw that?" Mona pointed at the parcel inside the dustbin.

"You want it?"

"Ummm...it looks beautiful." Her assistant fidgeting.

Raven smiled and took the parcel. She dust a bit. "Take it and wear where I don't see it. Or else I end up burn them with hellfire." Raven eyes shown deep hatred and anger.

"Ok boss." She smiled, quickly snatched the parcel and run to the exit.

As she was alone in her office, she slump in her chair and sigh heavily. "I guess he's also in town too." Her finger tapping on her table creating random melodies.

-------

Its 7.55pm, Raven now waiti g for Karen to pick her up as she lingers in her living room. She's wearing a one piece black dress decorated with golden and black labuci make it more fabulous looks.

She look at her phone to kill her waiting time until she stumbled on a post by E fashion news.

"Top trending designer DRACO are in town for launching their latest collection 'BLAK MAJIK' "

As raven read the article, she felt upset as she remember Melchior stole her ideas in doing a line fashion about magic before she presented the ideas at her first fashion show competition.

As she read the article, the sound of the car honking makes her jolt and quickly look at the window. It seems Karen has reached at her apartment block, quickly she goes out and greet Karen who parked at the entrance.

*********

"I heard that bastard Melchior are in town." Karen slowly stirred her cocktail as her and Raven where sitting on a table outside of the Viva La Coast restaurant.

"Yeah, I did read the article about it." said Raven as she drink her pina colada. " So, who are we waiting for again?"

"I forgot to tell you, Kory won't be able to join us. She has to come with her boyfriend meet with his family at Wayne Mansion."

"Wayne Mansion?" Raven's eyes jump out. Wayne, wasn't Damian last name is Wayne too?

" Yeah, but she's dating with Wayne's older adopted son, Richard Grayson. A high profile detective , probably will be promoted as soon. " Karen updating the status of their friend.

"I see." Raven looked at her drink. It's been a long time she hasn't talk to Kori because of her business setting up her small company.

"How about you then? You and Mal?" Raven raised her eyebrows.

"Well we've been planning for a wedding maybe in next year. " Karen smiled.

"Wait, I thought you're still in doctorate?" Raven eyes wide open as she remember Karen used to be a student in mechanical and atomic engineering.

"Will be graduated in two months." Karen smiled widely as she let out the fantastic news.

Raven goes all tears as she heard the good news. "Oh my god, Karen! I'm so happy!" She tried to hug Karen across the table.

Karen laughed with Raven's sudden behaviour. "That's why we celebrate it!"

"We should buy a cake. Wait, I know! Waiter!" Raven call up the waiter to get some dessert as celebration.

"And..."

Raven turns her head to Karen.

"I wanted you to design our wedding dress and suits." Karen faces flushes as she speak her request. " I really, really adore your work , Rachel. I wanted you to design it."

"Damn it , Karen. You make me all teary." Raven wiped her tears as she smiled sheepishly. " Of course I will."

"Karen, do you know anything about the youngest Wayne?"

"You mean Damian Wayne?"

"Yeah."

"I heard that he just back from middle east after doing charity project between the Wayne Enterprise and Leviathan Industries."

"I think everyone knows about that, Karen." Raven smiled as she drink up.

"I am very speculate that both of you have met." Karen with her mischievous smile now painted on her lips. " Is that the same guy who become your muse in your long lost sketch book?"

Raven clutches her hand on her drink, almost breaking it but she keep with her calm face. " I don't think so." She tried to denied it following with Karen's giggle.

"Plus, when he said there will be Raven in Wayne's Gala, I was like 'Raven?!' to the tv screen and I swear there's something going on between both of you." Karen crossed her armed with one eyebrow raised as she looked as Raven like she's a suspect.

"Well..." Raven averted her sight to the table and nervously tug her hair behind her ears. " There is."

BAM!

Raven jolted as Karen slammed the table with her drink. "TELL ME."

She swallowed her saliva as she seen Karen being over eager. She sighed as she adjust her seating, leaning towards the table.

"It start with that day, the day when he show up out of nowhere with that deal." Raven start to spilled what happen recently.

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tastic-blog · 4 years ago

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So, inspired by a recent first time viewing (how did i make it this long? No good answers) of The Holiday, I now present to you my Christmas gift to the internet

A Comprehensive Ranking of Romcom Sweaters by Sadness

Join me in an exploration of the knitwear of these dreamy eyed seekers of love, hearts full and arms covered! Their faith: true. Their choices: frequently bad. Their necks: cold.

Two notes before I begin! First- a lot of my very serious research came from the When Romance Met Comedy series of essays by @carolinesiede This series is one of my favorite things on the internet and you should all check it out

Second- my love for this genre is deep and sincere, as is my love for sweaters. Those who dismiss either out of hand may see themselves out.

OK LET'S DO THIS

0/10 Clueless

None percent sadness. Your hair is thick and shining, your schemes are manifold and successful, Daddy's sucky Italian roast is doing exactly what you intended. Let your arms bask in the sun in your sweater vest of youthful triumph.

(Note- the presence of sweaters in teen romcoms are rare. Sweaters are for olds. A teen wearing a sweater is generally a nerd, a cynic, or a cynical nerd. Just another reason why Cher Horowitz is an icon.)

1/10 When Harry Met Sally...

Only a slight tinge of melancholy. Sure, Sally's been on some bad dates recently and she could probably stand to get laid. But it's autumn in New York and she's a fucking avatar of emotional well-adjustment. The sweater is perfectly fitted and perfectly tucked. God, she's in such great shape.

+100 bonus points for Crystal serving proto Chris Evans in Knives Out realness

2/10 While You Were Sleeping

This ranking may appear controversially low, as Lucy Eleanor Moderatz is pretty fucking sad. She is alone at Christmas. Her beloved father is dead and she's fantasizing about an asshole she sees once a day from a public transit token booth. But you guys. This sweater. I've been searching for this sweater since 1995. It's enormous, yet beautifully shaped. It's the platonic ideal of coziness. SHE CAN LITERALLY HIDE PRESENTS IN HER SLEEVES. Sandy B is getting a break on the rent and peak Bill Pullman is about to lean over her, she's doing fine.

3/10 Bridget Jones Diary

Not great, but not precisely sad. Mark Darcy is at a shitty party wearing a dumb sweater and is about to thoughtlessly fuck up his romantic life. But his parents aren't the most embarrassing in the room, and he's got wine and gherkins. Things could be much worse.

4/10 Practical Magic

The sadness of Sally Owens is legion, but she cried in her PJ's and she's got more pressing concerns now. She's got daughters to take care of and a thriving skincare business to run and an undead rapist to send to hell. This is a sweater that acknowledges that your sister is a glamorous fuck up with terrible taste in men, and then is ready to get down to business. It's lightly fitted, with the breathing room for serious magicks.

(Maybe rethink the hair clips tho)

5/10 (500) Days Of Summer

This is where things start to take a turn for the more majorly sad. Tom is pretty pathetic. This is the saggy, washed out cardigan of a man who thinks that liking The Smiths is a meaningful character trait. It needs to be lain flat to dry, and so does Tom. But he still gets up in the morning, puts on a tiny tie, and goes to work. His depression is functional, and so is his sweater.

6/10 The Holiday- Cammy D edition

youtube

Amanda is sad in the way that only the thin, unhinged, and inexplicably wealthy can be. She has no friends. She doesn't know how to pronounce esophageal. The pristine whiteness of this cable knit is terrifying; the reckless abandon with which she waves a glass of pinot in front of it, even more so. You know that shit is dry clean only. Truly, a sadness touched with insanity.

7/ 10Love Actually, Colin Firth

The heaviest, darkest, most turtley-necked sweater to wear on a sadness vacation, sorry writer's retreat, in fucking France. What kind of whiny sack falls in love with someone with whom he cannot communicate at the most basic level? She's in her underwear, he's in an itchy monstrosity 3 sizes too big. This plot line can eat me like that collar is eating his chin.

8/10 Breakfast at Tiffany's

Who gave Holly Golightly the right to be so sad and look so good?? I spent my twenties sobbing on dozens of fire escapes and never came close. In a movie of iconic fashion, this sweatshirt is pre-American Apparel nonsense. Her soul is empty, but her hamper is apparently full because that's some laundry day shit. Her sad sweater is so sad, it trudged north and grew a depressive turban companion.

9/10 High Fidelity and Love Actually

Aka the asshole division. Above, a terrible boyfriend turned into a worse ex boyfriend in the worst fucking sweater I've ever seen. It's a Cosby sweater. A COSBY SWEATER. And below, a creep who turned filming his best friend's wedding into an opportunity to stalk and who keeps that video WITH THE REST OF HIS REGULAR VIDEOS AND IS THAT A DETACHABLE COLLAR?? At least Rob exhibits some growth, Stalker McGee over there gets a kiss on the cheek and a pat on the ass from his movie. These guys are jerks and their sweaters are terrible.

10/10 The Holiday- Kate Winslet edition

The nadir of sartorial desperation. Like its wearer, Iris' sweater has given up. It has no color, no shape, and no options. It is a formless mass that won't even keep your neck warm, thereby necessitating The Stringy Scarf of Sadness. It is literally a sweater in which to contemplate suicide. Thank god Eli Wallach is waiting in the wings, because this is as bad as it gets.

Ok, I'm gonna go watch While You Were Sleeping. THANK YOU AND GOOD NIGHT

#romcom #the holiday #love actually #when harry met sally #clueless #500 days of summer #high fidelity #practical magic #while you were sleeping #sweaters #sweater weather #Youtube

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theravencawsatmidnight · 4 years ago

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Pink Chains

Pt 3

Kyotani owns a grunge /punk apparel shop after leaving the Sendai Frogs after a incident with the Black Jackals. He designs his own clothes and hires Oikawa & Iwaizumi as his employees. Everything goes smoothly for awhile, till you walk in; pink dress, big smile , and bubbly personality. His whole life stops in that moment.

Punk! Kyotani x Bubbly! F! Reader. ❤️

Kyo had walked you to school after the both of you had calmed down. He hated seeing you cry jesus christ, it hurt him to his core. All he could think about was those tears running down your pretty face down to your fake smile. He was really falling for you, this was a first for him so he had no idea if what he had been doing was right or what.

You skipped ahead of him, he glanced up a couple times and got a big smile on his face. You had on a blue dress with flats and his jacket on, it was too big for you of course but you insisted on wearing it. And that's when he knew he was doing it right. Seeing you in his clothes and having that big smile on your face that was just for him.

“Kyooo!!! I gotta go!”

He shook his head walking to you and putting his arms around your shoulders. “Do you? Skip sweetie.” He teased looking over you to see people staring.

“Kyo!” You gave him an angry face and he just laughed kissing your head. “I'll turn you into a rule breaker yet. Have a good day sweetie.”

“Not uh!” You squeezed him tightly for a minute. “Dont sweat this morning kay?!? I can fight with you, are you working today?”

Your words cut him deep, sure his friends had his back but this was .. different. You were willing to defend him from anything . Hopefully you never had to do that. He ran his fingers through your head and swayed a bit whispering in your ear. “People are staring,”

You giggled just squeezing him more and Kyo smirked , he placed a light smack on your thigh stepping back chuckling at the little yip you did .

“Kyo!”

“Yeah sweetie i work today but im closing early, beach volleyball with friends . Ill text you when i close up shop okay?”

“You better!!” You placed a kiss on his chest and ran off into the school looking back and waving before disappearing.

Kyo waited till you were in the school before leaving. He shot everyone a smug ass grin too as he made his way down the street. Fuck his car was still at the store.

Kyo was not in any rush to get to work. Hell it was his store whos gonna rage at him? No one . Hes the boss. And besides Iwaizumi is most likely there already opening up the store anyway. The heavy rings on his right hand clicked all around while he made his way down the boardwalk strip , hands in his pockets while he eyed all the shops.

Buncha no good stores. If it didn't cost so much to get his brand up and running he could have a bigger building , or at least a better location-… he stopped walking and shook his head. “That's a terrible idea. Kyotani cmon get it together.” He sighed, rubbing his sleeve. “I would never had met her..”

Bbbbbbeeep

“Mad Dog chaaaaaaan!!!!” A car zoomed up to him skidding to a stop . Oikawa peaked out the window grinning.

Meanwhile, you were just getting into the first class of the day. Everyone was sneaking looks at you because of the jacket but you had no idea. You were too caught up on last night to really pay attention. Trying to take your mind off it you pulled a red notebook from your bag to doodle while listening to the teacher.

Soon enough the blank notebook page was full of design ideas; red pandas with hats , clothes and big fluffy tails. The designs were really cute , your teacher even complimented them from time to time . But you really just wanted a brand to pick you up, graduation was soon and you did not want to not have a job lined up.

“Y/n.. hey y/n”

A voice next to you alerted you to look up and over to see Kio, the girl who sat next to you in class.

“Oh hey Kio, whats up?!?”

Kio placed her hand on her head with her elbow on the table looking you over in this jacket. She never really talked to you unless she needed notes and was only taking this class for the credit she needed .

“That jacket is so different from what you wear y/n. Where'd ya get it?”

You were about to answer her but heard a snicker behind you , must be Yukio, Kios friend, also in need of credits for graduation. Would probably be best not to mention the store, Kyo did not need the harassment.

“Its my boyfriend's jacket!” You told them pulling it close with a big smile on your face.

Kio and Yukio locked eyes then looked at you .

“Boyfriend?” Kio asked.

“Looks like he has the opposite style as you y/n.” Yukio chimed in , leaning over her table. “Was he that guy with you this morning?”

“Yep!!!”

“He looks.. familiar..” Kio said tapping her pen on his lips.

“He does huh?” Yukio said leaning closer. “Whats his name hm?”

“..Kyo?” You were starting to get uncomfortable with all the questions.

“Oh!!!” Yuki yipped looking at Kio. “Kyotani! The Sendai Frogs!!!”

“..the Frogs? So hes..” Kio shot you a look. “He beat up Bokuto. For no goddamn reason.”

You shuffled around in your seat sneaking glances at the clock hoping it would somehow speed up so you could leave. It was not their business to know the reason behind it. Kyo was a very sweet guy , you had only known him a day but in those hours together you had never been happier; he opened up to you, cried even. Kyotani genuinely feels bad about that incident. He helped you through the tattoo instead of getting upset and brought you around his friend. The smirky smile he threw you always gave you butterflies in your stomach and sent your heart a flutter. He was just a misunderstood guy trying to start over with his friends.

You pulled the jacket off as soon as you heard the sweet sound of the bell and gathered up your bag standing up with the jacket over your arm close to your heart.

“Where do you think youre goin?” Kio got up following you out of the classroom along with Yukio. “Were not done y/n.”

Yukio grabbed your bag yanking it back and You spun around with a big smile and a sweet but slightly angry voice. “Kyo is a good guy and i really like him. I don't care if you two don't. You dont know the whole story either. And please stop following me, its not nice.” You waved at them so they could see your tattoo and you left in a quick pace down the hall . You pulled your phone from your bag texting with shaky hands.

Oikawa had dropped Kyo off at his store so he could drive home to shower and change and then go back to start his shift. He was tired and thankful no one could tell he had been crying the night before. Iwaizumi probably knew but he did not say anything, not with Oikawa around.

Kyo had on his shops uniform shirt which was a red dog house on a black shirt that said The Dog House on the back wrapped in chains. The summer line was selling smoothly and Mattsun had let him know that Yahaba agreed to come to the beach volleyball . He helped Iwaizumi unload a shipment while Oikawa was manning the front .

“So how'd it go last night?” He asked, passing Kyo a box.

“I told her .. everything.” The box was set down

“Oh ..? You? You did? What she say?” Iwa got another box groaning from its weight and giving it to Kyo

“Fucking hell.. would it kill them to pack the boots in all the boxes.. she said she was not scared of me. Dammit Iwaizumi she said she would fight with me.” He set the box down cursing .

“Fuck.. Kyotani.” Iwaizumi closed the truck up patting the back watching it drive off. “I know you've only just met her but she seems- Kyo?” He looked at his friend and he was staring at his phone , he looked like he was going to punch something .

Y/n: Kyo.. these girls in my class asked me about my jacket so i said it's my boyfriends and they asked your name cuz you look familiar and I told them and they .. brought up the Incident .

Y/N: i uhm, i did not say anything else but they were upset cuz they like Bokuto i guess but.. i left and they followed me and.. yanked me back. I .

Y/n: i was tough like you would be and asked them to leave me alone and i left. But.. uhm.. can.. can you call me when you can please..

“Iwaizumi...”

“You dont gotta say it. I can watch the front for a minute. “ he put his hand in Kyotanis arm watching his friend huff and puff . “Relax. Take a deep breath. “ Iwaizumi left his friend and Kyotani sat down on a box outside looking at the clouds in the sky with his phone to his ear.

“Kyo…” you sounded shaky and panicked

“Sweetie. Take a deep breath.” He was surprisingly calm sounding. He wanted to explode on the inside though, march right back to that school and take you into his arms and scare the hell out of those girls..He heard you breath in and out a few times till it evened out.

“Alright. Where are you right now Sweetie?”

“The.. outside.. courtyard..”

“Is it pretty there? Tell me what you see.” He leaned back on a box with his back to his shop. He brought one knee up tracing his index finger around in one of the holes in his jeans tugging at the strings making it bigger.

“Uhm… magnolias.. an oak tree.. some students are studying. It is pretty..”

“Sweetie..”

“Yes..?”

“Everything is okay now. Okay?”

“I.. yeah.. I tried to be tough but..i don't know. I said your a good guy cuz you are and I asked them to leave me alone.”

He ripped a few strings in the hole maging it even bigger over his knee. “Do you want me to pick you up after school?”

“Yeah.. i .. i just.”

“Ill be there sweetie.” He suddenly got an idea. “Promise. Now hows my happy girls day going now?”

He heard you giggle and the both of you relaxed slowly while you talked on the phone. You told him about your classes and the doodles you did too and Kyo asked you to send him them, he did not say why though.

“I gotta go sweetie. Ill be out front okay?”

“Kay.. have a good day Kyo.”

“You too Sweetie.” He hung up the phone and got up feeling the fire in him grow again.

After moving the boxes in he went to the front pulling Kawa and Iwa aside to the register explaining what happened. They were both upset over what they heard. Kyotani smirked texting Mattsun then looking at his friends.

“So after beach volleyball you know what we gotta do right?”

“Ou im excitedddd.” Kawa said with a big smile

“I gotta say im excited too.” Iwa said smirking and leaning on the register . “Im sure Mattsun is eager too.”

Kyo looked down reading the text with a side smirk. “Fuck with my girl and see what happens…”

@squeaky-ducky @zoppzoop

@haikyuu-but-low-iq @mochababes @kozushiki. @milkbreadcat @derpeedoo

#PinkChains #kyotani x reader #kyotani kentaro #kyotani 💕

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houndin-around · 4 years ago

Text

Covenant | Maul

warnings; slight age gap? I guess, can’t remember if there’s cursing oops, boss-employee relationship

a/n; First ofF I’M DROPPING THIS BC IT’S A SPECIAL SOMEONE’S BIRTHDAYYYYY!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY KENNA ILY<3 @hxldmxdxwn

- I’ve been avoiding dropping this because I’m super self conscious about my writing but oh well here we goooo! This is a more modern AU even though I use a lot of SW terms/lore but i’ll probably branch out as we go on throught he chapters. Takes place in coruscant and reader is 23! Maul ios around 30-31 haven’t fully decided yet. Uh hope everyone enjoys this!!

Summary; Getting an opportunity at a reputable company, you’re eager to show everyone what you’re made of. The only odd part is...no one knows who the owner is.

not my gif

Curses rolled off your tongue as the silence was disturbed by the raucous alarm emitting from your phone. Hurriedly you tried to silence it, avoiding waking up your partner that is sleeping next to you. The clock read 4:55 am and the sky was still pitch black. Yet the lights of Galactic City never died, it was hard to get rid of the illumination in your room. Even some curtains weren’t enough to block the livelihood, something you still have yet to get used to. Staring up at the ceiling, the dread of leaving the warmth that consumed you whole was winning the battle lulling you back to sleep. Another ear-piercing song flowed out of your phone causing you to jolt upright. Rubbing the back of your neck, a sigh escaped your lips before you tossed your legs over the side of the mattress. From the second alarm, your boyfriend grumbled before turning over, aggressively pulling the sheets over himself.

Today was the day of your brand new job. Anxiety nestled in your gut the more you thought about it so you tried not to. Two years ago you were leaving Naboo and your family after school. It was one of the hardest things that you had to do, and being an adult wasn’t easy or all that it was chalked up to be. Living on Coruscant was a totally new experience. Everyone dressed so differently-- obsessing over the latest fashions, erasing the idea of modesty as well. Luckily for you, that’s when you met Kenth Madon. Upon arriving, your ship was having difficulties, and you needed a mechanic. Out of all the shops around you, you chose his almost as if it were fate. Due to frequenting his shop, Kenth got the courage to ask to see you outside of the permanently grungy, gas smelling establishment. It wasn’t your first relationship, although it has been quite a while. It was nice to have someone give you the type of attention Kenth did.

Since he grew up on Coruscant, your boyfriend claimed to know what real fashion was. Hinting at the fact yours was a little outdated. So, he helped you restyle your wardrobe as you lacked any type of pizazz when it came to fitting in. At least according to him. During your outing, you still were drawn to rather lackluster choices of apparel, but at least it was slightly updated. Slipping on a white puff-sleeve shirt, you quickly tucked it into the black dress pants you were insistent on getting. The reality of putting on this outfit made your palms sweaty, your heart lurch up in your throat. with the realization of starting this new chapter in your life. Grabbing your white one-button jacket, you scanned your room one last time before placing a feathery kiss on Kenth’s stubbled cheek.

—————————

“Next stop: Galactic Square. Please, refrain from getting up early and blocking the exits. Thank you.” the feminine voice echoed throughout the subway train.

You rubbed your hands up and down your thighs, staring out of the viewport of the train. The job itself was competitive and the position wasn’t guaranteed. Nineteen other candidates were presenting their brand new prototypes for QuanCom, as well. The business that created the HoloNet, the Holocomms, comlinks, and much more. This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. This job could start you down a successful track, but you didn’t care. It was honestly only for the good-paying credits, since it was hard to find a job degree or not.

With a sudden stop shoving you against the seat, you quickly checked the time on your iPhone. 6:00 am. “Kriff!” you hissed to yourself. You were told work began at 8:00 am, so what in the hell were you going to do for an hour and a half? Being early helped ease your anxiety, though being this early only fueled it-- making it a lose-lose battle. Waiting for the other passengers to exit, you soon rose to your feet, swiftly leaping off the train. Examining the underground tunnels, your eyes shifted all over trying to locate the staircase leading upwards. It was crowded in the subway, yet it didn’t compare to the hustle and bustle that hurried by on the streets of Galactic City.

Humans, Rodians, Twi’leks, and species that you could swear you’ve never encountered before shouldered past you, as if you didn’t even exist. One long blink and an exasperated sigh later, you began to move your feet in the direction of QuanCom. The directions on your phone were confusing. The arrow rotating every once in a while was unable to read your location. Regardless, you continued hoping it was the correct way. The sudden smell of caf penetrated your nostrils, causing you to scrunch up your nose.

“If they sell caf, they probably have some deychin tea and maybe some food…” you trailed off hurriedly toward the small shop named “Caf Project ''.

Inside, it was cozy, brick-lined walls with a large sign hanging over the counter. Swallowing thickly, you stood back just far enough to show you were thinking of what you wanted, but really you were trying to stifle the anxiety welling back up as your mind kept going blank. A jingling sound interrupted your inner battles, and so did the voice of who was walking in.

“I don’t care. I told you to get this done yesterday. Not an hour before I arrived at the office. Is it really that hard to follow through? Do you not realize the utmost significance of this report? I swear I’m dealing with a bunch of imbeciles. Sith give me strength…'' Sucking in a breath, he glanced at you, brow raised. “Shut up for a second, Tannis.” He demanded before turning to you. “Are you in line?”

Your face went completely blank, just a second ago it sounded like he was about to murder whoever he was speaking to. But while speaking to you…his voice was smooth like silk, endearing actually. Swiftly shaking your head “no,” he stepped forward and flashed a warm grin at you, incisors slightly visible. Once again he continued yelling at someone, the barista not even batting an eye. His order was briskly made, though he didn’t even give any notion to what he had wanted. You couldn’t help but examine this stranger before you, attired in a charcoal grey suit that was paired with a very light grey dress shirt with two buttons undone. On his feet were freshly polished black Oxfords, his outfit so simple yet so suave. Once he handed the cashier some credits, you noticed a glimmer on his wrist, by the looks of it one kriffing expensive watch.

Adjusting the lanyard around your neck that holds your ID for QuanCom, the stranger with geometric tattoos all over his face turned to face you. You noticed a shiny stud piercing on the upper cartilage of his left ear. Maintaining some eye contact, you couldn’t help but feel a knot in your stomach. He was quite handsome, and his ivory horns…wow, you thought to yourself, cheeks running hot. “Get yourself together...you’re with someone,” You reminded yourself.

Lips parting, he studied you up and down.

“Good luck.” The words were quietly mumbled as he continued listening to what you assumed to be an employee, on the other line.

“Thank you,” you mouthed back, a sheepish smile tugging at your lips as you continue to fidget with the lanyard.

Maybe, he had heard of the big job offer at QuanCom? Advertisements were flaunted everywhere; it was hard to miss them. Shaking your head lightly, you step forward, showing that you’re ready to order.

“I’ll have a small deychin tea please and…uh- um..a croissant?” Everything on the menu food-wise wasn’t too appealing, but you needed something in your stomach to satisfy the beast. “Uh..how much, sir?” you inquired, pulling some credits from your spotless white jacket.

Shaking his head, the cashier's lips opened to a wide grin, “No need, miss, the man before you covered your order. You’re all set!”

There was that wave of nausea again. Why would he do that? Who even was he? Was it just his generosity for the day? Or did he think you couldn’t afford much based on your attire? Sighing, you frantically think about what you’ll be expecting for this job, continuing on your path toward the QuanCom headquarters. Getting closer to your destination, you glance over your phone, once more checking the time. 7:50 am. Finally, what felt like forever was finally here, and you were so eager to start on a positive foot.

Entering the monstrous building, people were hustling all around you-- confused, lost, and eager to get their days going, as well. You had to remind yourself that you were here as competition and not as a friend for anyone. Though right now, you could really use a friend and some directions as this place was large and filled to the brim. Inspecting the environment, you noticed a few flimsies posted. Maker’s sake, it made things easier by telling you where to go. Padding toward the nearest elevator, you crammed yourself in amongst the other bodies seemingly all going to the same exact floor. Not being able to help it, you held your breath midway until the doors opened on floor 18. Exiting, you followed the tall, skinny woman down the hall to meeting room 1804. To your amazement, it was already quite full, so you took a seat nearest to the door, pulling out some flimsy and a stylus so that you’re ready to jot down any information. The room was white-walled with very little decor besides a large glass table in the center. This is where the fun begins, the long drawn out rules and regulations.

“Alright! Now that we’ve gone over the workplace protocol and the prototype expectations, I will pair you up into four groups of five.” Her voice was raspy, though flat enough to make your eyelids heavy. Everyone around you was also struggling to fight the sleep that tried overpowering them. Names being called brought you back to attention every now and then, but you couldn’t stop thinking about him. “I’m sure Kenth sees more attractive women daily anyway…” you try to convince yourself.

“(Y/N), Fox, Steela, Hardcase, and…Finn. You five will make up group three.” The grouping continued slowly, but the names rang in your mind over and over. “Alright, now that groups are established, get to know one another and start some planning. Each member in your group has a very different degree path; this will help you all utilize one another's skills to create the best results for QuanCom. You have three weeks until you pitch your prototypes to Dooku, the COO.. Remember, 5 pm concludes your workday, so get to it.”

Sitting around your new coworkers, you fumbled around with your stylus, afraid to make the first move for introductions. It seems that you weren’t the only one being fidgety; the gentleman named Hardcase was bouncing his leg vigorously. If you were correct, he and Fox were clones. After the bill was granted clones rights and citizenship, they ended up all over the system. So many felt that cloning was unethical, especially for the fact they were treated similarly to droids. Though it was nice to see the two making something of themselves.

“Guess I’ll start! The name’s Hardcase. Yes I’m a clone, and--yes--I’m perfectly capable of thinking for myself. I’m great with my hands and can assemble anything together. For a short while, I was working as a mechanical engineer for the GAR.” The clone oozed with excitement and enthusiasm, which was quite entertaining. Clad in a pink-hued dress shirt and a blue suit, which matched his facial tattoos. On his feet were freshly polished loafers still tapping the ground.

“Well, I’m Fox. My skills are geared toward CAD and any type of 3D rendering. Once I devote myself to something, I see it through. You can trust me on this project; I assure you that,” he barely showed any type of emotions compared to his counterpart. His attire was dark-- suit, shoes, everything. It said a lot about him and which made you anxious.

“Well, I’m Steela! Researching is my speciality. Problem-solving is also a breeze. I’ll be able to find the answers in order to help us advance to a whole other level! I enjoy leading projects like this, since I know I can keep us on track one hundred percent!” The excitement radiating from her was encouraging. She seemed like a strong woman ready to lead this team to success. She wore brown high waisted dress pants with a matching blazer, and white blouse. On her feet were suede, caramel heel booties.

“I’ll go next…” the young Twi’lek’s voice was soft and elegant, soothing to everyone in the group. Just as she was about to speak the double-doors swung open.

“Asajj, we have a problem,” her voice hushed but full of urgency as she glanced around the room. “Tannis was fired. We need to fill her position. Now!”

“Gods, I knew this was going to happen. I told her she wasn’t ready for this position. Now he’s going to take it out on me,” Asajj let out a long sigh, arms folding across her body. The woman that just emerged looked similar to her, though her face was more relaxed.

“(Y/N), can you come over here for a second please?”

Everyone in the room glanced up at you before continuing their tasks.. Rising from your chair, you crossed the room sliding past everyone with ease. Asajj acted like she was presenting the finest delicacy in the galaxy; arms held out at you.

“I think she’ll do. A tad on the quiet side, but I’m sure Mr. Crimson can work with it,” Her response was more of a question, as both women had their eyes upon you.

“It’s not like we have much of a choice. You cannot run this and take on two secretary positions. You’re going to need the help,” The woman’s pale grey eyes burned into you.

“Fine. Take her to Mr. Crimson. You better hope he approves,” Asajj warned, giving you one last glance.

Quickly grabbing your belongings, the conversation you just had replays in your mind.

“Tannis,”

Why did that name sound so familiar? Who’s Mr. Crimson and why did you have to go see him. Your mind whirled around, anxiety eating away as you set foot in the elevator. It felt like a full rotation cycle before reaching floor twenty. Being led out you walked down a hallway that was decorated lavishly. The flooring was a beautiful dark marble. Each step you took echoed off the walls. Nearing the end of the hall, both of you walked through another set of tall glass double doors. Entering the spacious room, you can’t help but notice the viewport walls. Also catching your attention were two long black desks. They were set across from one another stacked with datapads and pieces of flimsy. Towards the middle was a closed black door that had a frosted glass panel. Without a doubt this room was breathtaking and even though it lacked decor compared to the hallway, the view of Galactic City made up for it. Light knuckles hit against the panel three times, waiting for a response.

“What is it now?” The aggressive tone was enough to send a chill down your spine.

Slowly opening the door to peek her head in. A few words were exchanged before she fully opened the door, motioning for you to follow right behind. Inside was a long glass desk, the legs were black; matching some of the furnishings or complimenting them. In front were two rounded leather chairs, the area rug underneath a bright white. Paintings and picture frames hung on the right side of the room, though you were too afraid to really gawk at them as a gruff voice began erupting again. There he sat, his black leather chair facing the viewports behind his desk seeming to be amidst another phone call. Something about his voice was all too familiar but the fear bubbling inside you made it difficult to pinpoint. Soon enough he swung his chair around slamming the phone down, right hand pinching the bridge of his nose.

“What was so important that you had to interrupt yet another phone call, Leys. If it’s not about numbers, you know, the job I pay you to do? Then leave. I’ll fire you too. I’ve had it with everyone’s complacent behavior. Any fool could be my financial officer, so if you as so step out of line again, you’re done,” The snarl erupting from this man was horrifying, bringing you back to the Caf shop.

It was him! The same eerie tone used then too, and yet he was able to turn it off so quickly when addressing you. Your hands began to clam up, eyes not even daring to meet his.

“Yes sir, I understand I’m very sorry. I just wanted to bring you Tannis’ replacement,” voice quivering, Leys bowed her head and hurriedly left Mr. Crimson’s office leaving you behind, alone and defenseless.

A satisfied chuckle was released from Mr. Crimson as he watched his employee scatter from his office. Brow raised in your direction, his stare intense, a sneer presenting itself. “Well. Take a seat.”

His hand motioned to the smaller round chairs, eyes never leaving you. Pushing his seat back just a smidge, a polished shoe crosses over his left thigh and his hands fold against his stomach. Releasing the breath you were holding in, you padded over to the seat in front of his desk sitting as straight as humanly possible.

“It seems I’m in need of another secretary. But it’s not an easy job-- I need someone reliable, someone organized, and to understand the urgency of when I say to do something, they do it,” Towards the end of the sentence, his voice dropped a little lower, eyes narrowing. “It is a permanent job that is until mistakes are made. Pays reasonably well especially for dealing with...someone like me. Seems Asajj and Leys picked you and they’re typically alright when it comes to the judgment of character.”

Something about the way he spoke to you made your heart skip a beat. Even the way he stared at you had your arms lined with goosebumps. Trying to compile a coherent sentence was no easy feat with his eyes burning into you.

“I-I, um..” fumbling over your words caused your cheeks to run hot. “Well...first off I wanted to thank you for this morning. You really didn’t have to pay for me...but I greatly appreciate it. As for my work, I am quite organized and pay attention to directions given, but I don’t exactly have the experience in being a secretary, which would probably be important…” trailing off, you broke eye contact with him to glance at a red light blinking on his phone.

He barely acknowledged your thanks, just giving a small nod. A deep hearty laugh left his lips, “Any fool could be a secretary, but you don’t seem like a fool. No, just the way you speak and hold yourself exudes intelligence. Normally a secretary is chosen from within the company, as an outsider could be one that would leak vital information about QuanCom to its competitors. Someone that has worked their way up the ranks, whom I could trust. However, due to obvious circumstances here we are. If you so choose to take this job you will have limited access to certain databases as I need you to earn that trust. Understood?” The sneer plastered itself once more upon his face, incisors visible this time.

“Yes sir, I understand. I’ll make sure I do this right Mr. Crimson!” a little bit of enthusiasm worked its way to you, eyes lighting up like Coruscant itself.

“Please, call me Maul.” he pleaded, followed by a half-smirk.

Rising to his feet, he outstretched a hand that you mirrored. His callused hand engulfing yours in a gentle embrace. Just this morning you were going in ready to compete against nineteen other candidates, and here you are sealing a deal with the CEO of QuanCom to be his second secretary. Breaking the handshake, he opens up his desk drawer pulling out a datapad, handing it to you.

“That will be yours. You’ll need it for all the paperwork and emails. You’re free to take it home, just don’t lose it. Asajj will send you some emails tonight that will need to be completed before you come in tomorrow morning at 6 sharp. Once you do that you’ll be set up in our system and able to begin your duties. You’re dismissed for the day, but you will be paid for a full day. Just a small token of gratitude.”

Taking the datapad in your hands, you gave a curt nod, ensuring you understood the importance that was just given to you. Getting yourself together along with your things, you exchanged a few words expressing how grateful you are for this new position. Heading toward the door, you outstretch a hand to grab the handle. Just as you’re about to open the black door, his voice cuts the silence.

“Oh, one last thing, don’t mention our little encounter this morning to anyone. Some may think... I’m beginning to play favorites.” his voice honeyed paired with a smirk and eyes ogling you, trying to take in one last visual before you leave.

---------

taglist: @maulfrk @honestlystop @pinkiemme @idiotonastar @nawpitynopenope @maulieber @rishi-moon

#maul x reader #darth maul x reader #Star Wars fanfic #star wars #Clone Wars #The Clone Wars #star wars clone wars #userlilylils #ceo!maul #maul

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itsclydebitches · 5 years ago

Photo

Discredit Part Three! (Click on each pic for something resembling quality!)

Part One---contains translations, podfic, and related works---Part Two

Tagging, credit, and transcript all below the cut 💜

First off, people who specifically asked to see more of this nonsense may God in all Her glory bless you accordingly:

@internet-or-sleep, @just-some-girl-on-the-internet, @readytoocomply, @vocallsama, @fellowshipofthegay, @lucky-leafeon, @alph4centauri, @sumoranges, @diaphanedreams

Aziraphale’s profile pic is courtesy of good old Neil, found here. All others are from Creative Commons.

Sorry it took so long to produce more stupidity. YOU ALL ROCK 🎊🎊🎊 Here, have a messy transcript.

Abdou G.

Have you ever walked in on a conversation and, despite clearly missing the majority of it, feel like you could reconstruct it, word for word if necessary? That happened at Fell’s today. The ‘talk’ had obviously been going on for a while, but I can give you a perfect summary here: rude fuckboy thinks he gets to say who God is, Fell was having none of it.

Best response? Turn around, walk back to your apartment (pro-tip: this only works if you’re just a few blocks away), and change your shirt. I walked back in with my I MET GOD, SHE’S BLACK tee and had the pleasure of seeing Fell do a double-take.

“Yes, thank you, that’s what I’ve been trying to say!”

***

Doug E.

Scout’s honor: I once saw that Crowley dude unhinge his jaw and eat a large pizza in one goddamn bite.

Update: you heathens read about this gay abomination with his dislocated jaw and what you decide to question is whether I was acTUALLY A SCOUT?

***

Mary L.

I came in with my four-year-old last week fully intending to keep him within sight at all times. Yes, I bought one of those kiddie leashes and no, I don’t regret a thing. You try holding down two jobs as a single mom to the bonefide antichrist. I love my boy, but the devil got to him, telling him things like, “Yes, Freddie, permanent marker would look just great on Mum’s only work jacket!”

I said as much to the owner because this mom needs to vent sometimes.

I wish I could give this place a higher rating, but the ownership is frankly terrible. Inconsistent hours, no help when you’re trying to find a book, just basically all around bad customer service, BUT it still gets five stars because when I told the guy I was raising the antichrist?

“Oh yes. I did that myself not too long ago!”

We parents need to support one another. Otherwise the world is going to burn. So here’s a good review for you, Mr. Bookshop Guy. A part of me hopes you’re a better dad than you are a bookseller. The other part? The bigger part? It’s very aware that Ms. Pot here just met Mr. Kettle.

Now if you’ll excuse me, Freddie just got into the flour.

***

Alfred B.

I hereby nominate Mr. Fell as the British Steve Irwin. I’ve never seen anyone handle a red bellied black snake like that. I mean yeah, they’re a chill species overall, but there’s a difference between casually handling a snake and fucking chucking one onto the chair because it’s in your way. (Okay. Maybe Irwin was a little nicer.)

Renee K.

whos steve irwin?

Alfred B.

...How old are you?

Renee K.

Alfred B.

You existed on this planet for two years with him and you dare to ask me this? Go boil your head and then use google. Good god.

***

Mark F.

overheard the owner telling his boyfriend that last they met his brother tried to set him on fire? and succeeded?? actually now that I think about it, not sure which brother they were talking about---his brother or boyfriend’s brother--but WHOEVER has the brother needs to... i don’t even know. do something about that? ring the police or go to therapy or SOMETHING. i mean maybe they already have, i’m just an eavesdropping tourist, but the idea of someone setting that bow-tie cutie on fire—DID I MENTION THAT? PERSON ARSON. MURDER—makes my blood boil

***

Shiefa N.

People aren’t joking about overhearing weird conversations here. I walked in on two men (owner and husband? owner and escort?) debating Seven Minutes in Heaven. You know, that stupid kissing game the better looking kids got to play in middle school. It got pretty heated at one point (pun not intended), arguing about whether seven minutes of making out was divine or damning behavior. I hung out long enough to catch the segue into a lust vs. love debate and then had to skedaddle. Nice couple. I support their weird flirting habits.

***

Chang Z.

Is it legal to visit a store for things other then what it sells? I realize that makes me sound druggie or something but I swear I’m dealing with a much healthier addiction. (Ha. Maybe.) I cosplay (yeah, yeah, move along, trolls) and Mr. Fell has an absolute wealth of historical clothing. It’s astounding! I thought they were particularly detailed costumes at first, but no. I’m majoring in Textile and Apparel Studies. I know a naturally worn piece of fabric when I see it. Mr. Fell is always cracking jokes about how he wore this frock in the 19th century, this shirt in the 17th, oh don’t you just love my old vest? (He has... so many vests...) I indulge him because anyone who lets me borrow this stuff for free deserves all my attention and fake laughter.

Yeah. You read right. Artifacts borrowed for free. He’s even let me alter some of the stuff because I’m not exactly his size. Should this stuff be in a museum somewhere? Probably. Am I calling anyone to take my personal cosplay supply away? Noooope.

***

Leah M.

Helping to spread the word here because I’m not sure how much foot traffic this place actually gets.

I pass Fell’s every morning on my way to work and yesterday there was a new sign in the window. This might not seem very interesting to most people on here, but you’ve got to understand that Fell’s never changes. None of it. I’ve lived in Soho since I was a boy and this place has always had the same placard with his insane times listed, same stripped paint on the door he’s never gotten around to fixing, same spiderweb in the corner I absolutely swear. My dad used to pop in there when he was in college and I swear he’s taken me through the stacks, points out books that haven’t moved in 30+ years. It’s nuts and more than a little bit impressive.

So you can imagine my shock when I passed by and saw not one, but four new papers in the front window. They’re drawings and I recommend going and taking a look for yourself. I don’t think I can accurately describe the utter chaos of crayons and glitter that’s displayed there, let alone what it’s trying to depict. A dystopia? The end of the world? If so the apocalypse features a surprising number of dogs.

There’s a fifth paper off to the side, written in Fell’s messy penmanship. It just says, “My god-children drew these!” and if that’s not the cutest things you’ve ever heard get out of my face.

***

Gabriel A.

azirfell

alzaphral

azzzzzirafal

i’m a litttle drunk but azifjkaafha’s place is good he just needs a name easier to spell

***

Aziraphale

Dear Gabriel A,

My partner Crowley told me about this site and the many lovely well-wishes you all have left us here. I have come to express my thanks and to offer a bit of advice. You are hardly the first person to struggle with my name, dear girl! I recommend the following three step process:

A - simple, yes? + zira - a nickname I’ve adopted over the years, easy enough to recall + phale - this is admittedly more difficult as our ending, “phale,” is neither spelled in a way nor presumed to be pronounced like the “fell” sound we end up with. In truth my name is more along the lines of Azz-ear-raf-AE-el, but change is inevitable and you needn’t hear about that transformation, nor the etymology involved in getting “fell” out of “phale.” I say this not because I don’t wish to teach you, but because my partner has reminded me--in a rather rude tone I should add--that this site has a word limit. Suffice to say you should simply memorize the “phale” portion and you shall be, as the expression goes, in tip top shape!

Best regards,

Aziraphale

P.S. Nothing personal, dear boy, but I fear I’m not terribly fond of your name either. I would highly recommend changing it if you’re ever of a mind to do so. Cheerio!

#good omens #ineffable husbands #air conditioning #long post #good omens fic #(apologies for that)#(tried for text post and the quality was totally unreadable)#pgnbri #attempting to tag you here #since tumblr won't let me do it in the post :/

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sleepless-stories · 4 years ago

Text

Dangerous

Summary: Logan works for a company as a security agent for the city, as a hero in a way. He has a huge crush on Patton, but he can’t be with him, he can’t endanger him. Pastel Punk Logicality, implied mutual pining, with some slight angst Fic for @unicornoftherainbowshadow as a part of @sanderssidesgiftxchange as a pinch hit Hope you have a nice year!

Logan sat on the edge of a roof, his face covered by his mask. Logan had been out for a few hours now, just sitting on the rooftop watching over the city in silence. The distant sound of sirens around. He took a deep breath of the cool air letting it out seeing the vapors. Looking down Logan saw a flash of bright light, now was his chance it seemed.

Logan stood up pushing back his dark blue tinted blue hair. Logan’s outfit was pretty simple, a jacket that was padded with bullet proof material that would also hold up against knives and a small explosion and some pants similar to his jacket, on the sides of the jacket it was a dark blue which lined the seams of the suit, he wore black combat boots too. The mask was black with some raised geometric patterns covering his eyes and cheekbones with a second part of it covering over his mouth that part was fully black with no designs, it just had some small slits on the sides for venting. On Logan’s back he had a quarterstaff and a dagger strapped to his thigh. His wrist had a computer like thing. Overall in a way he seemed intimidating.

Logan sighed and lowered himself down the building to the ground before running to where he had seen the light.

____

Logan had never been sure how he had gotten into this, being a vigilante that is. Maybe it started with his huge crush which he would deny at all costs.

It had started small though, Logan had walked into Patton’s bakery. His hair a bit of a mess, a leather jacket with spiked shoulders, a tie making his punk look somehow semi-professional, his shirt was a blacktshirt, he wore some ripped jeans that had black patches under the rips then his combat boots. He just walked in his full punk apparel, when he saw smoke coming out of the kitchen and a guy run out wearing a light grey sweater that had a little cat toe bean design on the ends of the sleeves and a blue cat on the front of the sweater, light wash jeans, and random sneakers. Logan… he found him adorable.

Quickly Logan had ran into the back finding the fire extinguisher putting out the flames before going out and greeting the other.

Logan was gay, that’s a fact. He was defanitly gay for this guy too, Patton.

They became close friends quickly, a few weeks later the two were in the kitchen, all the lights off… that’s when it all kinda started.

Logan was chatting with Patton. Logan leaning against the counter, Patton rolling out some cookie dough.

The front door opened suddenly. They heard the bell, the sound of someone entering the bakery.

Logan carefully walked over to the kitchen door, having Patton hide in a corner, staying quiet, he had turned off the one light they had on in the kitchen while Patton had been baking. Logan carefully opened the swinging doors going out to the main room, he saw someone hunched over the cash register

Logan lunged at them tackling them to the ground and punching them in the face. As soon as the person was down he called 911 reporting the break in.

… that was probably the beginning, the beginning of his growing problem and the beginning of his descent into… heroism.

The problem being patton, and his crush on him.

After that night, Logan felt as if they were a magnet for danger, whenever they were alone together. They got nearly mugged 3 times in one month. Logan ended up dealing with heists at two different stores when he was hanging out with patton.

Then it all started, Logan was doing well at work, a local business company as their IT, and one day he got a call. He was offered a job, a night job. It started as a security esque job and Logan needed money so he agreed. He got trained in physical combat before being placed behind a desk as cyber security. He was confused why the physical combat till he learned the company was a private firm dealing with security in a way. They dealt with security of the city working with another security firm getting their money from ‘donations’ of the criminals they apprehended.

That was how it began, him learning what the company was, then being offered a field job. He was given his suit and sent off. Being a somewhat vigilante, hero, working a secret job.

______

Logan woke up in the morning laying on his bed wearing some space pajamas, his phone alarm going off distantly on his end table. Logan sat up slowly wincing at some pain in his side from getting struck last night, but he'd be fine. He had plans with Patton for lunch, he’ll be fine by then.

Logan got out of bed stopping in front of his mirror Logan was glad he had no bruises on his face, nothing for Patton to worry over. He got ready for the day.

___

Logan walked into the bakery and saw Patton standing behind the counter. Logan stared at him before walking over, “So, almost ready for lunch?”

Patton looked up from a clipboard, “hmm? Yeah. Let me take off my apron then I’ll be ready for our date.”

Logan paused, “y-yeah… our date...” Logan nodded slowly, a date? He didn’t think it was going to be a date.

Patton grinned and walked away to the back.

Logan leaned against a wall then shook his head, he was already close enough… he couldn’t do this. Logan quickly left the bakery, he had to distance himself from Patton. He couldn’t get close to him. Logan ran to his car and quickly drove down the street before pulling over and breaking down sobbing. His phone went off but he ignored it.

Patton had finished and decided to change into a light blue skirt to go with his pastel blue floral shirt, before coming out of the back. He looked around not seeing Logan, “Um Lo?” he asked, looking around… Logan wasn’t there though. Patton sighed sitting down on a chair, “maybe… maybe he will be right back…” he mumbled putting his head down on the table.

Patton waited a few hours before wiping his tears away and going to his apartment above the bakery.

Logan got home and sat on his couch, he just had to… he just had to stay away from Patton. Not too hard. Who was he kidding, Logan had a huge crush on Patton, how would he stay away from him.

Logan shook his head looking at the time, he had nothing to do. Logan got up deciding to head off to work early,

_____

Logan walked into the building and into his office quickly getting changed before he got a phone call, Patton. Logan held the phone close to his chest before answering and raising it to his ear. “Good Evening Patton, I’m sorry about earlier, something came up.” Logan lied.

There was a laugh on the other end, “Hello Logan, sorry but, I’m not Patton.”

“Where is he?”

“Oh, with me, someone you’ve messed with far too much now.”

“Who are you.” Logan asked, remaining calm.

“You don’t need to know that.”

“Well if I don’t know then how am I to know how I’ve messed with you?”

The other person just laughed, “You’ve destroyed my organization far too many times, now I have your precious boyfriend. Hope you’re happy, and find me and him in time.”

After that the person hung up.

Logan stood there.

Patton had been kidnapped, because of him.

_________________________ General Tag List @crazy-multifandomfangirl @aceawkwardunicorn @mistythegenderqueermess

#logicality #mutual pining #pastel punk #logan sanders #ts logan #Hero Logan #patton sanders #ts patton #slight angst

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