#also I think I’ve once stared at his nose for like five minutes straight

[diari0deglierrori]

I truly don’t get the fuckboy face… like wtf how is that supposed to be hot?? You have a perfectly fine normal face even a nice smile and all why ruin it like that

[specialagentsergio]

rationalizations

rationalizations: a defense mechanism in which one makes up a false but reassuring explanation to explain their behavior and/or feelings to both themselves and others, thus avoiding the reality of why they are really acting or feeling as they do.

summary: You’re the psych evaluation for Spencer. You think he’s full of shit, so you refuse to sign his clearance form until he actually tells the truth.

pairing: spencer reid x f!reader

category: angst (happy ending)

content warnings: spencer’s canonical trauma, flashbacks, mentions of suicide and suicidal ideation, swearing

a/n: i wrote this for @imagining-in-the-margins‘ enemies to lovers event. it’s not my favorite trope, but one of the prompts sparked inspiration for me. i also took a good amount of inspiration from meredith’s various therapy scenes in grey’s anatomy, so if some of it feels familiar, that’s why! i swear i intended to make this cute and funny, but, well… here we are lmao.

word count: 3.6k

masterlist

Spencer throws his bag onto his desk with a frustrated huff. It thumps loudly, startling JJ at her desk across from his. She gives him a sympathetic look regardless. “Still not cleared yet?”

“No!” Forgetting that it’s wheeled, he drops himself into his chair. It skids backwards and he has to scramble to grab something to keep from falling out of it.

“Careful there,” JJ says, trying valiantly to suppress a laugh. “That psychologist's got you really worked up, huh?”

“I don’t know what she wants from me!” he complains. “It’s been nearly a month! Hotch’s ex-wife was murdered by an unsub, but they cleared him. I was only shot in the neck.”

“I mean, that’s still kind of a big deal,” she says. “You could’ve died, from the gunshot, or from the nurse that tried to kill you afterwards.”

“Speaking of that nurse,” he starts, “Garcia is the one who shot him and she’s been a wreck over it. She insisted on going to the guy’s execution. But the therapist cleared her!”

“Penelope’s not in the field,” JJ points out.

He crosses his arms. “Still. This isn’t the first time I’ve been shot. That possibility is part of the job. It’s not like it came out of nowhere and I was completely unprepared for it.”

“I don’t know what to tell you, Spence,” she says. “Just keep all of your appointments and I’m sure you’ll be cleared soon.”

He pulls a stack of papers on his desk towards him. Paperwork—one of the things he’s actually allowed to do. “I better be,” he mutters.

---

“And it was really scary, you know?” Spencer wipes at his eyes with a tissue. “Not knowing if I was going to live or die.”

“Mm-hmm.”

He takes a deep breath. “But… it’s over now. The preacher who shot me died in the same shootout. Owen McGregor, the leader of the corrupt deputies, died later that night, in another shootout. And Greg Baylor, the one who posed as a nurse and tried to kill me, was sentenced to death row and he’s gone now, too.”

His psychologist makes a note on the paper in front of her, but doesn’t say anything, so he continues.

“I… I feel better now, just letting that out.” He takes a new tissue and dries his nose. “I feel ready now. Ready to go back to work.”

She nods slowly, considering him. But she doesn’t even look towards her desk where the clearance form sits, frustrating him to no end. After five minutes of silence, he breaks.

“You can’t be serious.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I’ve been coming to these sessions for over a month, and I’m still not cleared to be in the field. I…” He musters up more tears and makes sure his voice wavers during his next words. “I just don’t know what you want? I’ve tried everything.”

“No, you haven’t,” she says plainly.

He blinks in surprise, sending some of the crocodile tears down his cheeks. “What?”

She crosses her legs. “You’re full of shit.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re not being honest with me, and I don’t think you’re being honest with yourself either,” she says. “You’re a great actor. I can see how you’ve gotten clearances easily before. But that stops with me.”

Spencer stares at her. “I don’t understand.”

She moves her notebook to the side. “What happened in Texas isn’t the first time your life’s been in danger. Why do you think that is?”

“Wh—that’s part of my job,” he argues, fake crying long since forgotten.

“Not to the extent that you take it. I’ve read your file,” she says. “You take unnecessary risks with regularity.”

The tissues crumple in his hand as he clenches it. “I do not.”

“Let’s go back to the beginning.”

“The beginning of what?”

“Of your career.” Yet she doesn’t take out his file, or look at her notes. She speaks from memory. “2005. The BAU is assisting with a hostage situation. You go into the train, posing as someone who is there to remove a microchip from the unsub, but the first thing you do? You take off your bulletproof vest.”

“Okay, clearly you don’t understand what the situation was,” Spencer cuts in. “Ted Bryar was suffering from a psychotic break. He was somewhat unpredictable, and he told me to take off the vest.”

“And you just listened?”

“He—he had a gun, and was threatening both me and the other passengers with it!” he says. “What was I supposed to do, not listen?”

“Uh, yeah,” she replies. “You easily played into his delusions just a few minutes later to distract him. Why not do that to keep yourself safe?”

“I was twenty-four and was running on adrenaline,” he says defensively. “And it was my first time doing something like that. You can’t expect me to think of everything.”

“You’re right, I can’t,” she agrees. “So let’s jump forward a few years. How about the time you approached a teenager who was wielding an assault rifle with no protection, not even your own firearm?” she challenges.

“You mean Owen Savage? That was a unique situation,” he protests. “I knew I could talk him down.”

“No, you didn’t. You thought you had a good chance, but there’s no way to be one hundred percent sure of that. He was volatile, and on a killing spree,” she counters. “You didn’t know if you’d succeed--”

“I did!” He startles himself by unconsciously raising his voice, but he doesn’t apologize. “I did, because….”

“Because you related to him,” she fills in. “And that’s fine. Having empathy for an unsub doesn’t suggest something’s wrong in and of itself. But you still put yourself, and the rest of your team, in danger, didn’t you?”

He crosses his arms. “I got that lecture from Hotch when it happened, okay?”

“So then why’d you confront an unsub alone a few years later in Miami?” she asks. “You didn’t even tell anyone where you were going. You left your vest behind and just ran off.”

“I was having a head—wait, how do you even know that happened?” he questions. “It wasn’t in the report.”

“Well, first of all, you just confirmed it,” she points out, and he wants to kick himself. “Secondly, I can read between the lines.”

“I was having a headache,” he repeats. “I wasn’t thinking all that clearly. I just knew Julio’s life was in immediate danger, so I went to help him.”

“Uh-huh. More recently,” she says, brushing past his excuse, “You confronted your girlfriend’s stalker without your vest or gun.”

Spencer’s getting angry now. “I was trying to save Maeve. She asked me to leave them behind.”

“And you simply listened. Do you see the pattern I’m drawing here, Dr. Reid?” she asks. “These are just a few of the instances that stand out. Time and time again, you put yourself in unnecessary danger. So I’ll ask you again. Why do you think that is?”

Spencer looks over her—really looks over her, trying to understand what she’s getting at. “Are… are you suggesting that I’m suicidal?” he asks quietly.

She looks him straight in the eye. “You don’t act like someone who wants to be alive.”

It’s like she set off a bomb in his brain. Memories, and the feelings attached to them, emerge—Elle handcuffed to a seat, a teenager with a rifle, a blinding headache, Maeve and blood on the warehouse floor.

“Here’s what I see,” she says. “I see a man who’s been through so, so much. Your mother is mentally ill, your father left--”

His father is packing a suitcase. Spencer doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do or say, so he falls back on what he knows.

“Statistically, children who grow up in two-parent households attain three more years of higher education than children from single-parent households.”

It doesn’t help. “We’re not statistics, Spencer.”

“Your file says she’s staying at an institution, and with your father out of the picture, I can only assume you were the one who had her admitted--”

“Spencer, please don’t do this to me!” she cries as she’s escorted out of the house by Bennington Sanitarium’s transport staff.

“A few years into your work here at the FBI, you were kidnapped, tortured and drugged--”

He’s tired and cold and his whole body aches. Tobias—the real Tobias—looms over him with a syringe.

“Please. I don’t want it,” he pleads of his captor. “I don’t want it, please.”

The needle punctures his skin regardless.

“—you were held hostage by a cult leader--”

Emily sits across from him on the plane with a black eye. “What Cyrus did to me is not your fault.”

He pretends to agree.

“—you went through the death and reappearance of Agent Prentiss--”

He’s tried to make it clear to Jennifer that he wants to be left alone, but she won’t stop trying to talk about it with him, and he’s had enough.

“I came to your house for ten weeks in a row crying over losing a friend, and not once did you have the decency to tell me the truth.”

“—and your girlfriend was shot in front of you.”

“Who’s Thomas Merton? Who is he?” Diane demands, gun pressed against Maeve’s head.

“He’s the one thing you can never take from us,” Maeve replies, and Spencer’s heart drops. Thomas Merton is Maeve’s way of saying goodbye—she’s giving up.

“Wait!” he cries out, but it’s too late.

“This is just some of the more traumatic stuff. And then there’s what happened last month, which is why you’re here. You present a face of not being bothered by all of this, because that’s what you’ve been doing all your life, but I think you are bothered. You really, really are. And you don’t want to admit to anyone just how much it all has affected you. Maybe you don’t even want yourself to know.” Her expression and tone of voice are certain.

Spencer can’t take it anymore. The whirlwind of emotions and memories is overwhelming.

“The number of times you’ve almost died is staggering--”

“Yeah, and sometimes I wish I had!” He glares at her, breathing heavily. “Is that what you wanted to hear?”

But she doesn’t seem intimidated or alarmed at all. She leans back in her armchair. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”

The response only serves to make him angrier. She questioned him relentlessly and made him admit something he swore in the dark hours of sleepless nights that he’d never think again, never voice, let alone admit to anyone. She forced it out of him, forced. She made him say it against his will.

So why does he feel a sense of relief?

“I…” Tears well up in his eyes—real ones this time. “I’m done,” he chokes out.

He pushes himself off of the couch and out the door, slamming it shut behind him.

---

He storms in Hotch’s office and demands to see a different psychologist. But she was one step ahead of him—a few hours before the appointment, she had emailed Hotch and told him that under no circumstances should Spencer be allowed to get a clearance from someone else.

“And you’re going to believe her?” he cries.

“She’s doing her job, Reid.”

“You barely know her! You’ve known me for a decade!”

“Yes, I have,” Hotch agrees. “And you’ve told me yourself that you’ve fooled psychologists and therapists before. So if this one is saying you’re not ready yet, I’m inclined to believe her.”

Spencer just stares at him, but as usual, Hotch doesn’t blink.

“Unbelievable,” Spencer eventually mutters.

“Take the rest of the day off,” Hotch replies, glancing down at fists Spencer hadn’t realized he was clenching.

“Fine.”

Too agitated to stand in the elevator, he takes the stairs. As he stomps down them, he swears he’ll never go back to her office, even if it means never going into the field again.

A week passes, then two, and he hasn’t seen the psychologist since. But he doesn’t feel any better—he actually feels worse. It’s like her words broke a dam in his mind, in his gut, and feelings of unease and uncertainty won’t pass. It keeps him up at night. Her words echo in his head. “You don’t act like someone who wants to be alive.”

Spencer’s had yet another sleepless night and is struggling not to doze off at his desk despite the coffee he’s drinking. He stands up with the intention of splashing some water from the bathroom sink on his face, but his feet take him somewhere else.

He stares at the nameplate on the door. He swore he’d never go back, yet he feels compelled to knock.

It only takes her a few moments to answer. “Dr. Reid. Can I help you?” she asks.

“I…” He sighs. “Are you busy?”

“No. Come on in.” She steps to the side, opening the door wider to let him pass. He sits down on the couch.

She waits patiently. She doesn’t rush him. She lets him speak first.

He wrings his hands in his lap, staring down at them. “Something you said is bothering me.”

“What was it?”

“About… living,” he admits quietly. “I… I think you might have been right.”

When he gets the courage to glance up at her, he finds a soft smile on her face. “Would you like to talk about it?”

Spencer hadn’t realized he was expecting judgment and disdain until it didn’t happen. His shoulders slump down in relief. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, I think I would.”

---

“You’re still thinking about her, aren’t you?”

Spencer looks up from his paperwork, slightly out of it, to find Derek watching him. His coworker had, indeed, caught him thinking about her again. His psychologist. Well, former psychologist. After his second session back with her, she’d handed over a clearance form and a referral to a therapist outside the bureau to see long-term.

“And you better follow up with that,” she’d told him, the corner of her mouth turning up despite her serious tone of voice. “I’ll know if you don’t.”

He’d promised that he would, and had followed through. But despite the progress he was making with the new therapist, he was feeling a little disappointed that he didn’t get to see her anymore. He only saw her in passing, sometimes in the elevator or walking down the hallways of the building. They would exchange hellos, she would ask how he was doing, then give him a little wave as she left. Each time his heart would skip a beat, and he’d feel an urge to follow her to wherever she was going.

Yet he hadn’t quite realized why he seemed to be preoccupied with her until a dream he had a few weeks ago—a dream in which he found himself kissing her. Despite being alone in his bedroom, he’d woken up feeling embarrassed. He promised himself that he would put her out of his mind. Having a crush on his psychologist? It was ridiculous.

But then he saw her in the elevator a few days later and he couldn’t help but analyze her body language. It was open, and she twirled her hair around a finger while she looked at him to ask him how he was. A few other people entered the elevator on the next floor, but her attention remained on him. They were subtle signs, but signs that he recognized nonetheless—signs of attraction. And once he started seeing them, he couldn’t stop.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Spencer tells Derek, picking back up the pen he hadn’t noticed he dropped.

“You can’t pull that on me, kid,” he replies. “It’s your psychologist. You can’t stop thinking about her, can you?”

Spencer sighs. “So what if I can’t?”

“So go ask her out already!” Derek says like it’s obvious.

“You don’t think that’s just a little inappropriate?”

“You’re not seeing her as a client anymore, are you?” he points out. “Go for it, kid. You’ll regret it if you don’t.”

Spencer takes the advice—as soon as Derek said it, he knew he was right. He would regret not taking a chance on her and the connection he felt. Sure, she’d helped him with therapy, but it went deeper than that. It feels like she knows him.

He leaves the bullpen ten minutes early that evening, hoping to catch her before she leaves for the day. On her doorstep, he feels just as nervous as he did on the day he admitted that she was right, but it’s a different kind of nervous. An excited nervous. He knocks on the door.

She’s surprised when she seems him. He watches as her pupils dilate, and it boosts his confidence. “Dr. Reid. Can I help you?”

“You can. I’d like to talk,” he says.

“Oh. Well, I guess I could do that,” she says. “I thought things were going well with the therapist I referred you to, though.”

He shakes his head. “No, I don’t mean I want an appointment.”

Her eyebrows come together in confusion. “Okay, then, what do you want?”

Spencer doesn’t hesitate. “I want to take you out to dinner.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I really like you, and I think we’re meant to be together,” he replies, voice softening a bit.

She pauses before answering. When she does, her voice is gentle. “Dr. Reid, sometimes a medical professional’s care can start to feel like affection over a period of time, but--”

“No one has ever listened to me like you do,” he interrupts.

“That’s my job,” she points out.

“I’ve seen therapists before, but none of them have been like you,” he counters. “You understand me.”

She sighs. “Well, I’m glad I was a good fit and was able to help you. But that doesn’t mean that I see you as anything more than a client.”

“You’re lying.”

“Excuse me?”

“You do feel something more for me,” he says firmly, but then backtracks a little. “Well, I know you’re attracted to me at least.”

She blinks and shakes her head slightly, take aback. “Dr. Reid, this is not appropriate--”

“Please call me Spencer,” he says, then jumps into his explanation. “See, when we’re attracted to someone, our bodies display involuntary signals, and I’ve seen you do some of them when you’re around me. Whenever we run into each other here, your body will turn a little towards me and you’ll play with your hair. Your attention is almost entirely focused on me. And, when you see me, your pupils dilate. They did it when you opened the door just a few minutes ago. Oh, and I’m attracted to you, by the way,” he adds as he realizes how one-sided he’s been. “I imagine my pupils probably dilate when I see you, too.”

Her mouth opens and closes a few times, like she wants to speak but doesn’t know what to say. She looks flustered, and he wonders if maybe he’s pushed it too far or said too much, but he can’t turn back now. “So, please, let me take you out,” he says quietly. “Just… just give it a chance.”

She bites her lip and looks at the ground. There’s a crease between her eyebrows, which he’s come to learn means she’s thinking. She speaks seriously when she looks back up. “If I go out with you, I can’t treat you anymore. If you ever need another evaluation or session, you’d have to get it from someone else.”

“I know,” he says. “I get along well with the therapist you referred me to, though. And having to get clearance from a different psychologist at the bureau is something I’m willing to give up in favor of getting to know you better.”

She considers him. “You’re serious about this,” she states.

It’s not a question, but he answers it anyways. “I am.”

She tilts her head to the side, eyes unfocusing as she ponders the situation. Eventually, she says, “Let me think about it.”

It’s not exactly the answer he was hoping for, but he’ll take it.

---

It’s only six PM, but Spencer is already exhausted. He unlocks his apartment door, fully intending to collapse onto his bed, but instead receives a pleasant surprise in the form of his girlfriend waiting for him on the couch. He can’t help but smile.

“Sweetie, what are you doing here?” he asks, then adds, “Not that I’m complaining.”

“Penelope told me it was a bit of a rough case,” she replies. “And I missed you.”

She holds out her arms and he takes the invitation, joining her on the couch and laying down between her legs, placing his head on her chest. “I missed you, too.”

Her next words are overly familiar. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Hey, we agreed to no therapy,” he says. “Something about I can’t be your client anymore?”

She huffs. “This isn’t therapy. This is being a good partner.”

Spencer smiles into the fabric of her shirt, snuggling in closer. “I know, I’m just teasing you. I don’t need to talk about the case,” he says, finally answering her original question. “I feel fine now that I’m here with you.”

She lets out a pleased hum and starts running her fingers through his hair. “I ordered take-out for dinner, by the way.”

“Where from?”

“You know where.”

A wide grin spreads across his face. She must have ordered take-out from the restaurant he took her to on their first date. He lifts his head to look her in the eye. “Aren’t you glad you said yes to me all those months ago?”

“Oh, I suppose,” she says with pretend annoyance, rolling her eyes.

Then she kisses him.

Spencer’s never been so happy to be alive.

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

tell me what you thought here!

please note that i DO NOT ENDORSE asking out your therapist/former therapist. this is fanfiction. thank you.

general taglist: @calm-and-doctor​ , @spencerreid9​

[pa1nkill3r]

"Now How Come I've Only Found Out About This Now?" [G.W]

[Pairing:] George Weasley x Fem!Artist!Reader

[Summary:] So far, George Weasley knows three things about his new potions partner; So why not make it four? Or five?

[Warnings:] use of mudblood, a bit of angst, a bit of swearing, a pov change at some point in the end, idk-- fluff?? (is that a warning??)

[Word Count:] ≈2.7k

[A/N:] i used @buckystrenchcoat 's fluff plots for george weasley: 2. George finding out you can draw (kind of got carried away but oh well :D--) (ps just imagine that classes in hogwarts includes all of the houses together, thanks <3) Y/H = your house. (dk the timeline or what year george and the reader are in but i'd say between 3rd-5th year)

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

The Weasley twins were becoming reckless and apparently, Professor Snape has had enough. The constant explosions on the other side of the dungeon and the numerous attempts at drowning his hair with shampoo has eventually led him to the decision of assigning the entire class their partners.

Thus halfway into the semester, the Weasley twins are never to be seen together again... that is until the end of 2nd period where they will go back and cause mischief elsewhere.

Fred was assigned to a Slytherin girl who George couldn't figure out if she's madly in love with his brother or wants to rip out his guts. While he on the other hand was assigned with Y/N. Truthfully, he never gave much thought to her, but after their first double potions lesson as partners, he began to wonder why he never gave much thought to her.

She was smart but never overbearing, made jokes here and there, sniggered when he made even the cheesiest of puns, and is wicked attractive. Their first task was to brew a calming draught and whilst adding in a smidge more of lavender, she proposed that they should make more while the majority of the class was still struggling.

"Why in Merlin's beard are we going to make more? We can just pass this and leave class early?" He asked, bringing a smile to her lips. "Yeah, yeah, that's what you want, don't you Weasley?" She quipped, looking back up to the red-headed boy who's now readying their vials.

"Just thought that we could make some for people, like, your brother. Poor guy, reckon he's going to rip his hair out getting partnered with Tuttle." And with that, George let out a laugh, a laugh that cost Gryffindor 5 points. Though, all was well when they were the first to finish and send their little vial of calming draught into the hands of Severus Snape, garnering 5 points each and an opportunity to leave class 10 minutes early.

And that was it, that was their relationship; potions partners.

George Weasley learned 2 things that day. One, his potions partner was someone he wanted to know more, to be with more, and two, one should never put a liberal amount of peppermint in a calming draught. (Fred learned that the hard way.)

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She was the epitome of beauty and brains. So far, that's what he knew about his potions partner. But a little incident in the corridor made two into three.

It wasn't unusual for Fred and George Weasley to skip class, especially if the class was History of Magic. And it also wasn't unusual for them to hide behind a tapestry whilst a stinky dungbomb was set in the first-floor corridor.

What was unusual though, was George not wanting to move from their hiding place, forcing Fred to also not move. "George, mate, wha-?" "SHH!"

Whatever Fred's question was supposed to be, it quickly got answered by the presence of a certain someone whose walking to the Muggle Studies classroom, his brother's potions partner perhaps? Fred grinned mischievously, nudging his brother in the abdomen, and earning a wince.

"Oi mudblood! Was that you?" They heard from a distance, heavy footsteps following the girl he's teasing his brother with. From their point of view, they could tell that the girl stopped in her tracks, sighing heavily as though this was a regular thing.

"Was that me, what?" She asked, clearly annoyed. "Was that you who did it? Or d'you just shat yourself? It smells horrid. Would make sense, as you're a filthy little mudblood."

George's blood was beginning to boil, fingers formed into a fist, knuckles white. Especially when they got to see the silhouette of the two arguing. Perfect, Winnifred Tuttle, his brother's potions partner bullying his Y/N Y/L/N. He had an urge to protect her. To avenge her. To show her how much he cared for someone who's supposed to be his potions partner.

"Was that supposed to be an insult, Tutts?" Y/N spat back, pulling George out of his trance and making Fred shut his mouth. Now he's the one staring intently. "It's honestly just sad. A 'pureblood' like you should know the difference between a dungbomb and a piece of shit. Or perhaps you're probably just that daft?"

The boys were fixated on their conversation now. A hand on their mouths, hopefully covering up their shock even if they're hiding behind a tapestry. George's heart was beating faster now.

"Me? Daft? Well, if I'm daft then why are you taking muggle studies?" Tuttle sneered, an ugly grin splattered across her face.

"Bit hypocritical, isn't it, Winnie? Bye-bye!" She turned her back away from the Slytherin now, walking into the Muggle Studies classroom, holding a few books in one hand and her middle finger in the other.

He knows three things about her now; She's bewitching, she's a whizz, and she's a muggle-born who doesn't take shit.

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A few more lessons in and one could say that Y/N and George are starting to become friendlier to each other. Acquaintances, sure, but, friendly nonetheless. But the Gryffindor wanted to live up to its name, to its values. He might've just gotten to know a bit about her but he was completely and utterly entranced.

Nothing's going to stop him now.

His right hand held his wand as he stirred the concoction in the cauldron. She, on the other hand, was cutting up the stewed mandrake. The easy silence between them was broken by none other than the lion himself.

"Hey," he called, lifting his gaze from the potion to the girl right next to him. "Hi." She said back.

"So... Today's a Friday, right?"

She looked at him, confused, recounting a particular time in which she looked at a calendar today. "Yeah, I think so."

"And we can go to Hogsmeade after classes?"

"Pretty sure you can, why?"

"Want to go on a date?"

She looked stunned which kind of hurt George's ego but as soon as the slightly parted mouth of hers became a cheerful grin, he felt a whole lot better.

"As long as you stop staring at me and not over mix our potion, then sure, I'll go out with you." She smiled, making George give a shy little grin back before attempting to put all his concentration on the brew. Mind boggled on the way she said 'our potion.'

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

Going to Muggle Studies felt utterly useless now that Y/N's been promised to go on a date right after. But having George by her side, walking her to the class just seemed to be the best part of the day.

He recounted the time when he and Fred hid behind a tapestry and told Y/N all about it, giving a hot feeling to her cheeks. They stopped by the door frame of the classroom, Professor Burbage was waiting inside, pacing around her study as George's hand slyly held Y/N's.

"I'll pick you up later?" He asked with the same shy smirk plastered on his face, cheeks pink and ears flushed. "Yeah. Thanks for walking me here. You shouldn't have." She uttered, heels rising and falling as she bounced on her toes.

"Just making sure that Tuttsy's not going to ruin your day, love." Y/N felt heat rising to her cheeks and ears, as well as an uncontrollable grin. Her heel turned to make her face the concrete walls of the castle, hands covering their face and body slightly swaying from side to side. It was ridiculous, really. Dumb. Very.

"You're adorable when you're flustered."

"Shut up, Weasley." And with that, she pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, leaving him slightly startled, stunned, and very red in the face. "You're adorable when you're flustered." She quipped, walking into the Muggle Studies classroom and taking her seat.

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

Muggle Studies felt oddly slow that day. Usually, it lasted an hour but today it felt like a century. Professor Burbage's talk about electricity and muggle technology went in one ear and out the other.

If you'd ask why Y/N chose a subject she already knew plenty about, her answer would be that she wanted to see things from a different perspective. But truthfully, she just knew that she'd be good at it and it'd be an easy O.

So there she was; A scrap piece of parchment laid on the wooden desk and a pen since Professor Burbage discouraged the use of quills.

Her mind wandered off the moment she sat down on her chair. Feet either bouncing up and down or stuck straight onto the floor, she wouldn't know. What she did remember was her non-dominant hand posing itself as the other one scribbled on the piece parchment.

Her fingers played with the hazy light and the ink added depth. Soon she started sketching other things; The student in front of her, a study of Professor Burbage, a head with a moderately strong jaw and beautiful, short, messy hair. A male side profile with a big nose that has a slight bump on its bridge matching a cheeky grin with dimples. Her hand posed itself once more but this time she wasn't making it look like hers, she was making it look like his. Something she's seen many times before, and guiltily stared at once, twice, more than she could recount.

She was adding in the cluster of freckles when the worst happened; "Miss Y/L/N, still with us?" Professor Burbage stood at the front of the class, standing straight, clearly thinking about her posture. "Miss Y/L/N?"

She felt an elbow nudge her arm, and that was the thing that brought her back into reality. Her head whipped itself to face her seatmate then to her Professor, giving her a funny-looking nervous grin.

"Charm would get you nowhere, Miss Y/L/N. When was the first electricity generator introduced in Britain? And where was it installed?" She has to have something in that brain of hers. It must've been taught sometime when she was in muggle school. "Err-- 1900s something, Surrey--?"

Professor Burbage meekly chuckled, "Nice try. 1881. Godalming, Surrey. A point from Y/H then, I'm sorry."

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

George was faithful and stuck to his word. Even being 5 minutes early after asking Professor Grubbly-Plank if he could go to the bathroom and have a wee, saying that the unicorns would definitely mind if he pissed on their trees.

He did not go to the bathroom but instead went straight to the Muggle Studies classroom. Leaning the side of his body onto the wall by the door. Trying his best to peer into the room and find his potions partner and soon to be his date and maybe even his. But he was getting ahead of himself.

The bell rang and he heard a loud shuffling sound of chairs being pulled back. The door was opened as students from all of the houses started pouring out and there she was. Looking beautiful as ever with her bag slung on her shoulder.

"Glad to see you're alright there, dove." He cooed, earning once again another shy smile. "Anything happened there?" He asked, pointing to the now open classroom.

"Felt way longer than usual, and I lost a house point." She said matter of factly. George chuckled, his heart filled with pride as he turned his head towards her.

"And what have you done to lose said house point?"

She smiled before reaching her hand into a pocket of her robes, pulling out a folded piece of aged parchment before handing it to the curious redhead.

"What's this? A love letter?" He bantered. "Just open it." And so he did. His nimble fingers unfolding the parchment, then he was stunned. Seeing his face drawn in ink with lines crossing over more lines was the last thing he expected. It looked like him. And it didn't look like Fred. It is him.

"I was just drawing in class but then I sort of blanked out and got a dumb question wrong." She paused, looking back up to see if the redhead was still listening. "Hello? Earth to George?"

"You drew me?" He was on a fine line of disbelief and awe. It truly looked amazing. She drew her hand at least three times before he recognized his was also there. She even got the little freckle he had on the middle of his wrist. The full body of ol' Professor Burbage brought so much of her energy and even the way her scarf wrapped around her neck was perfect.

Her cheeks were heating up again, realizing what she just did. "It's not that good. Just-- drew what I saw and, err-- whatever came to mind, I guess." Bad execution, sloppy excuse. "Okay, you've been looking at that for way too long now--"

"This looks bloody brilliant! Now how come I've only found out about this now?"

"Flattery would get you nowhere, Weasley." She joked, but he was serious.

"S'not 'flattery' if I'm stating what's true! It's amazing, you're amazing." She felt her heartbeat increase by a mile.

"Well then, I'm flattered." She said, adjusting the strap of her bag to hopefully let out some adrenaline. "And to answer your question, it'd be terrifying if I just started drawing in Snape's class. I swear that man has eyes at the back of his head. That's why this is a new discovery for you."

"Fuck, this is amazing!" He uttered.

"It's really not that good--"

"'S'really not that good' Some shit standards you have there. I'd put this in a museum!" He said loudly, extending both his arms and imagining that the piece of parchment was displayed on the Hogwarts walls. "If you don't like it then I'll keep it." George joked, expecting disapproval, which, to his shock, never came.

"Are you actually giving this to me?"

She shrugged, "I mean if you'd like a photo of you drawn by a teenage girl then be my guest." He smiled, genuinely smiled. He looked so pretty at that moment and there shouldn't be any holding back now.

"...But," She started, his gaze looked intently at her, ready to listen to whatever comes next. "There's a price."

"Between Freddie and I, we have 26 galleons and a few sickles." He said, earning a hearty laugh and a shake of her head. "Don't really think he'd like me to give all of it to you, I'm sorry. If you want I'd pay a bit then I--"

"No, George." She said, tugging lightly on his tie to gain his attention. "How about... a kiss? Perhaps?"

He grinned. His hand hovered itself across her face before landing on her cheek, thumb gracing itself on its apples, slightly squishing the skin whilst his eyes looked for any signs of discomfort; there was none.

They slowly leaned in, eyes locked on lips before their lips locked onto each other. His lips were slightly chapped but it felt like the softest thing on Earth. He smelled of cinnamon, firewood, gunpowder, and other indescribable scents, but it was nice. It was short but meaningful, gentle, even. His other hand was wrapped around her waist and once again, his thumbs were running up and down whatever part of her body it's laid on.

He learned two more things about the girl that day; she's artistic, and she felt like home.

He never thought there'd be a time in his life where he'd be thankful for Severus Snape. But life goes in unexpected ways.

"If you'd like to tip me then I'm just going to say that I love cauldron cakes." She grinned up at him as they pulled away before settling her face in his chest. George chuckled to himself before wrapping his arms completely on her waist, placing a sweet kiss on the top of her head.

"Yeah, yeah, come on." He said, pulling away to let her shake herself up as he held onto the piece of folded parchment which graced his face, giving it a small peck before putting it in his pocket, patting it three times.

"Better sign that drawing for me, Y/N. How much does an autograph cost?"

"Double the original price—?"

"And the tip?"

"And the tip."

[haik-choo]

karasuno boys as boyfriends

a/n: im just basically astral projecting myself into these situations; ALSO if you want more detailed ones, just ask, and you shall receive! (also this is my first post i’ve written on here! but if you want plenty of kpop content i’m @hyucksong where i’ve been writing and I am still active! :))

---

[KARASUNO BOYS AS BOYFRIENDS HEADCANNONS]

-tsukishima, yamaguchi, hinata, kageyama, tanaka, nishinoya, sugawara, daichi, and asahi

---

tsukishima kei.

the type to look you straight in your eyes when you ask for a hug and say “no, who do you think i am, your boyfriend?”

runs his hands through your hair from the front and then when his hand reaches the back of your head he pulls you into him and kisses you either on the forehead or the lips <3

in order to be in a relationship with him you HAVE to have the same type of humor.

i don’t think he could date someone who doesn’t make fun of people with him

you guys are like best friends who make fun of each other and. make out a little every once in a while

he’ll hold your hand and hug you in public but he will NEVER do anything else, especially not in front of the boys

he thinks the blush that ignites on your kissable cheeks should be for his eyes only

he gave you a keychain that had a cute little strawberry shortcake on it. and it’s your most prized possession 

will shoot a glare at anyone who watches you too closely. like no. don’t get googly eyed over MY girlfriend. 

and you don’t have a problem with that ;) 

yamaguchi tadashi.

he likes to watch you when you’re not looking to pick out the little habits you do

he thinks that knowing someone’s little hardly noticeable habits is one of the most intimate things on mother earth

he knows that you stir the milk in the bowl three times before you pour the cereal in to check for chunks because you accidentally drank spoiled milk when you were younger

NEVER has an issue getting you a gift for any occasion. he ALWAYS knows what you’re looking at and what you want and you lowkey think he can read your mind but in reality he just pays attention <3

you’re either just as shy as him to bring out his more assertive side or more assertive than he is to bring out his more timid side -- both are good

kisses you on the forehead and holds your hand in public -- he loves PDA because he can show you off :’)

yes. he kisses the back of your nape in public. so what. 

YES. HE CLOSES HIS EYES WHEN HE DOES IT AND ACCIDENTALLY INHALES YOUR SCENT AND WHISPERS IN YOUR EAR THAT YOU SMELL GOOD. IDC IF YOU THINK THAT’S CREEPY. IT’S CUTE. YES. HE GIVES YOU THAT LOOK THAT SAYS HE’S CRAZILY IN LOVE WITH YOU. SO WHAT.

kageyama tobio.

he probably fell in love with you because you were just as passionate about something else as he is about volleyball; music, drawing, writing, math, science, reading -- whatever

i see this relationship as being one that’s like...accelerated friends. like,,, you act like him and hinata except you kiss sometimes and he can see you at the end of the wedding aisle

DEFINITELY reads cosmopolitans once you start dating because he wants to be a good boyfriend for you <3

PDA is literally little to NONe,,, not because he doesn’t like it...it’s just because he doesn’t realize that he’s not showing you affection lololol

like in one arm he has his athletic duffel bag and the other he has a volleyball

he doesn’t mean to neglect you he just does AGAGAG

realized he liked you when he thought about you when he was drinking his milk and mindlessly bought you one too

the first time y’all kissed. he literally stared at you so intensely for a SOLID ten minutes debating in his head whether or not he should just go for it or wait or just smash his face into yours and hope your lips connect

he chose to cross his fingers and ended up smashing his forehead and nose into yours 

it was cute tho <3

hinata shoyo.

YALL HAVE DATES WHERE YOU BABYSIT HIS SISTER. WTF SO CUTE

when yall cuddle and you’re the little spoon he likes to put his head on your shoulder/between your neck and watch as you scroll through tiktok or instagram and just mindlessly talk about his day 

the type of boyfriend where neither of you can cook and you both confusedly look at recipes on google like: ????? wtf is the difference between brown sugar and regular sugar

it’s his INSTINCT to hold your hand. no matter what. his hand just...gravitates to yous.

AND HIS LIPS JUST FIND YOUR CHEEK??? like it’s so natural to him to kiss your cheek when he sees you, even in public. it’s so adorable i--

THE TYPE OF GUY TO WIPE OFF FOOD FROM THE CORNER OF YOUR MOUTH AND STILL EAT IT AND SAY “you taste good!~” AND NOT EVEN REALIZE WHAT HE SAID. BUT WHEN YOU DO IT TO HIM HE BLOWS A FUSE

he loves to tickle you. like you’ll be vibing, drinking whatever you drink in the morning and he’ll come up to you all casually and kiss you cheek...and then he’ll pounce 

he holds you close to his chest when he tickles you, partally because he likes feeling your laugh vibrate on his chest, and partially because it’s easier to not get tickled if he’s right behind you

his sister LOVes you and it just. makes him so happy

tanaka ryuunosuke.

you CANNOT remove his hand from your ass. it is permanently glued there. it is attached to you. yes, even in public.

number 1 hypeman! he will always support you, no matter what! you could be in a competition to raise the biggest beetle and he’ll be there rooting you on and staying up late with you as you rear your award-winning beetle

you two lay next to each other on the couch/on his bed and he’ll have his arm around you and you’ll lay your head on his chest as you watch netflix shows

YOU, NISHINOYA, AND TANAKA? UNSTOPPABLE TRIO. POWER TRIPLET. 

i don’t imagine him being shy when he first kisses you; the first time he kissed you, you were literally just. existing and he literally just...couldn’t hold it in...and he just went for it

literally CATAPULTS himself into you and kisses you senseless

yes you and saeko are besties she gives you ALL the tea about young tanaka

the type to take off his shirt more during practice if you’re there watching, and literally BURN red if you mention anything about his muscles

you once traced a vein in his arm and commented on how hot it was and he literally short-circuited 

kiss his biceps. kiss his abs. kiss his cheek. please. it’s all he wants. he’s touch-starved

nishinoya yuu.

SUCH an excited boyfriend

like he seriously gets so hype doing ANYTHING with you pleaSE give this man an award. you’ll be at the amusement park and the line to get into a ride will be three hours and he’ll be like

“I get to spend three hours with you?!! fucking sick! absolutely radical!” 

he’s bold in public, but only because he wants to rub you in his teammates faces, but his ears will be Red

at home, he’s calmer :) he just loves to spend time with you, even if you’re sitting on a bench watching him practice receives for five hours straight in the blazing sun. 

he just treasures your time so much, you treats you like a precious gem -- he will NEVER treat you wrong. deadass has no problem admitting when he’s wrong -- but if he thinks he’s right then he WILL stand his ground

he’s a passionate man, who loves just as passionately.

his favorite time to kiss you is after you’ve taken a sip of a soda because he likes the taste of the syrup and the burn of the carbonation, but most of all because he likes the taste of your lips in combination with all of them

NIPS AT YOUR EAR. DEADASS JUST LOOKS AT YOU BRUSH A PIECE OF HAIR BACK WHEN YOU’RE DOING HOMEWORK AND IS LIKE “free real estate” AND C H O MPS

the day nishinoya told everyone yall were dating, kiyoko stopped you in the hallway and deadass got on her knees and thanked you LITERALLY she was like “i’ll buy you anything. give the word and it’ll be yours.” 

sugawara koushi.

would kiss you on the first date. deadass. he’ll just drop you off at your doorstep and you’re still high on adrenaline, and you’re lowkey hoping he’ll kiss you and you get  little disappointed when he doesn’t and then when you least expect it. bam. his lips on yours

his smell oh god, he literally smells like fresh sugar cookies. it’s like as soon as you get anywhere near him his smell just invades you nose and. you’re powerless. you just wanna hug him

never smells bad. try me, bitch. NEVER.

his hugs are literally god’s gifts. he loves hugging you. he just completely envelopes you with his pretty setter arms and his smell takes up all the space in your head and nothing else exists for that moment, just you two

loves tucking your hair behind your ears or just moving it out of your face; doing homework and your bangs are in the way? not for long because he’ll clip them up for you <3

he’s pretty mischievous and will playfully put his hand next to your head and lean down with such a HOT look in his eyes 

and he’ll say some shit like “i wanna devour you” and then he’ll laugh afterwards and give you a kiss on the forehead and you’re standing there. like -.- o.o -.- o.o

whenever he feels insecure about his position on the team, you’re always there to comfort him and he’ll just lay between your legs and rest his face on your stomach as you comb your fingers through his hair and scroll through tiktok

PDA? yes please. uh huh. mhmm. he doesn’t care who sees his love for you he just wants to love on you baby. kisses you on the lips, no problemo

daichi sawamura.

you and suga are the only ones who can scare him when yall are mad lol

boyfriend where you’ve dated for like a year but it feel like 50 have already passed. in a good way!

this relationship is so ungodly domestic. like from the first day it’s just pure comfort and he’s like your rock and you’re his anchor

you two bicker a lot but it’s lighthearted and you just feel so secure with him that poking fun at him and at yourself is just natural

daichi. gives. god. hugs. he does. it’s fact. 

his arms are just so big and he has so much body warmth and he probably smells like some bullshit cologne like “smoldering woods” and it’s just so. daichi

you two spend the night at each other’s house so often it’s like you already live with each other and people always forget that you don’t lolol

totally sleeps with his shirt off and only with underwear. isn’t awkward about it either;  when he wakes up he puts on sweats but still remains topless (not that you’re complaining)

you two are like. the strict parental couple, when you walk together whether it be down the street or in the hallways, you just look so right for each other it’s. mind blowing

doesn’t mind kissing you a little in public but really thinks that stuff should be for private; so normally he just kisses your temple and always has an arm either around your shoulder or around your waist

WHEN THE TEAM SEES YOU KISS ON THE LIPS THEY GO “EW” EVEN SUGA AND ASAHI AFIEFHEWIF

asahi azumane.

literal fucking teddy bear. god please cuddle him. please kith him. please comb through his hair with your fingers and kiss his nape and kiss the back of his head. please i beg of you.

did NOT ask you out first. he wrote love letter to you and then waiting behind the gym because he thought being near the volleyball gym would give him some luck and them you got in front of him and he was. deer in the headlights

needless to say you asked him out and kissed his cheek. he DIED

even once yall are comfortable in the relationship he still needs reassurance every once in a while because he’s a little insecure, not that you’ll leave him for someone else, but that he’s not good enough

his PDA skill are. subpar. he usually just holds your hand and that’s it, but sometimes kisses the corner of your eye or nose and you just combust

OH RIOGEH TOTALLY DOES BUTTERFLY AND BUNNY KISSES. YES GOD YESSSSS

when yall cuddle he doesn’t like spooning. he likes to be able to see your face and the expressions you make, so doesn’t like being the little or big spoon; yall face each other and just lets your head lay on his arm even tho it’s numb. im: soft

kisses are so sweet, slow, and hesitant. he doesn’t really kiss you often because he has terrible timing but...when he does it’s like the whole world just becomes still in that moment and nothing matters but his hands on your waist and yours in his hair 

[aminiatureworld]

Careless Words

Characters: Albedo, Childe, Xiao, gn!reader

Word Count: 4,114

Warnings: Brief depiction of drunken character, swearing

Premise: Words are thrown around so carelessly, phrases, endearments, accusations. But when all is gone and only the words remain it can be difficult to pick up the pieces.

In which the reader and their s/o argue and make up.

Author’s Note: Ended up spending a good two hours on Albedo’s bit alone, wow I got carried away with this. Also I feel so bad for Childe, I’m sorry!

Not proofread cause I ran out of time, will do so tomorrow.

Albedo

“Do you even respect what I do?” Those words kept ringing through your ears, a bitter litany that fueled your anger just as it began to fade. Do you even respect what I do?

Of course you did, you respected him and his work very much, it was one of the first things that had drawn you to him, his inquisitiveness, his eternal questions, his determination to unlock the secrets of the world.

But really could he not do all that in his lab where all of his experiments and equipment belonged?

At first you hadn’t really paid attention, it was just a few plants after all. When you’d asked what they were for Albedo had smiled eagerly, replying that he wanted to see how different plants, especially those infused with elements, reacted to sunlight. You had just smiled then, although you were slightly worried about the mist flower freezing the ground around it. Still, it was a mundane enough experiment, and the plants looked very pretty on the windowsill. Nothing to worry about.

Well evidently that wasn’t quite the case because one experiment morphed into two morphed into five morphed into ten, until there seemed barely enough room to live among the beakers and graduated cylinders, the odd smells emanating from the various petri dishes which now scattered the coffee tables and the dressers.

It was becoming a nuisance, plain and simple. More than a few times you’d managed to almost tip something over, trying to grab a book off a shelf that was crammed with small boxes of various specimen, or almost putting a pot down on a counter covered with vials of whooper-flower nectars. You couldn’t live like this, and though you wanted to let Albedo carry on as uninhibited as possible, it couldn’t go on any longer. You were going to scream.

“Albedo, can we talk?”

“Of course.” Albedo looked up from the microscope he’d managed to cram on the coffee table. You let out a smile that quickly morphed into a grimace, making your way to the couch, careful not to bump into the table.

“Albedo, I love your passion in all that you do, but you really do have to tidy up a bit. I’m sorry I know it’s a bit of an inconvenience, but it’s just becoming a little difficult, you understand?”

“It’s only a few experiments.” Albedo replied, gaze still fixated on whatever he was observing. You felt a twinge of frustration, had he even heard you?

“This is serious Albedo. I don’t want to ruin any of your experiments, but it’s really becoming an impossible situation. We can barely cook for fear of crashing into something, and I’ve started waking up to the smell of fire flowers burning. Can’t you move one or two things into your laboratory?” You tried to keep your tone light, hoping that this time would be more successful. It was very irritating to feel like you weren’t being heard.

“I have an important experiment going on at the lab. It needs space and air. So I’m just moving everything here for the time being.”

“How long is that going to take?” You asked, once again feeling frustration rising up. He couldn’t even look up at you.

“Three weeks or so.”

“Three weeks?” You couldn’t help but let out a cry. “Albedo I’m sorry I cannot live like this for three weeks.”

“Why not.” It wasn’t even a question.

“Please look at me.” You finally said, tone dropping to one that made no attempt to hide your growing irritation. Albedo let out a curt sigh, glancing over at you with a disinterested sort of gaze. “You have to move some of this stuff out Albedo. It would be one thing if it was a week, but three? We can barely live right now, what are we supposed to do for the next three weeks?”

“I don’t know.” Albedo scowled in a dismissive tone. “I think you’re making too much of it.”

“And I think you aren’t listening. Are you even hearing what I’m saying? Even processing the situation? Or are you so focused on that microscope that you can’t see that your partner is besides themselves.”

“You seem fine to me,” Albedo’s tone continued its aloof cadence, “I don’t see why you can’t just wait three weeks. You’re being awfully demanding.”

“I…” for a moment you were speechless, feeling as if you were fighting a losing battle, why was it so much easier for Albedo so say words that meant nothing at all while you were quickly finding yourself losing your cool? “You aren’t listening to me!” You finally managed to get out, knowing by this time you were awfully close to shouting but too frustrated to care.

“And you aren’t listening to me,” Albedo’s tone finally began to inch into something a little more emotional, you weren’t sure why but it gave you a hint of satisfaction, “do you even respect what I do? Or are you too wrapped up in yourself.”

It was like getting punched in the gut.

“Fine.” You stepped away almost knocking into a dresser crammed with empty equipment. For a moment you wondered what you could say that would hurt him so much but quickly gave it up. You were too angry to think straight anyways; right now you just wanted to get out.

“Where are you going?” Albedo’s tone seemed to have shrunk back to its previous range.

You didn’t even respond, not bothering to gather anything up as you made your way to the door. Albedo called out your name once. You responded by slamming the door as hard as you could on your way out.

•

At first Albedo simply went back to his observations, trying to ignore the negative feelings that churned inside him. How dare you, he thought, how dare you take him and his work so lightly. Maybe it was good that you were getting out of the house, Albedo wasn’t sure how long he could’ve lasted until he lapsed into that horrible shrieking as well. “How embarrassing.” He murmured to himself, as if that would drown the unease. Still the fight was new and the emotions were raw. He wasn’t about to ponder the matter anytime soon.

This carefree attitude slipped a bit when you didn’t come home for dinner. Still he simply sighed and went to cook for himself. By now his anger had cooled extensively and he was beginning to feel a bitter sort of regret. Maybe he had been to harsh, though he still wasn’t ready to admit he was wrong. No, you were just being dramatic, and though he should’ve been kinder with you, backing down was absolutely not on the table for him. He cared about his work after all, cared deeply; he couldn’t just stop because it was inconvenient to you. Moving a few vials out of the way Albedo laid out the chopping block. The amount of pasta he’d bought looked comical against the knowledge that he was going to be eating alone tonight.

Dinner was a sad affair. Somehow Albedo had gotten used to cooking with you, your proximity, your easy conversation, the way the one who finished their food first always pushed their chair next to the slower party, usually to lean their head on the other ones shoulder which while not necessarily comfortable was certainly relaxing. It was lonely now, and the loneliness only grew as Albedo lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. Tomorrow would be better. Still he lay there, thoughts scattered and hazy. Was he in the wrong? He couldn’t tell. But certainly he was in the wrong now, in the wrong for not being with you like usual, for not reacting when you left, for still being unable to react now.

It was that thought that eventually lulled him to sleep.

Albedo woke up to the most horrible smell. Squinting he sat up, trying to figure out what in the world was going on. The smell was vaguely akin to burning flesh, but it that flesh was also experiencing a bad case of freezer burn. Fighting the urge to gag Albedo stumbled around. Once he got to the living room he groaned. Some ammonia had managed to fall of the shelf and spill onto all the flowers he’d propped on the roof. Crinkling his nose he went to clean it up, but found it took about twenty minutes just to find where he’d put the tools for properly disposing equipment and bio-experiments.

By the time he was done the final shreds of his resolve had utterly dissipated. You were right. You were absolutely right and he absolutely needed to tell you. Barely stopping by the lab to throw the bags of ruined equipment in the trash he sprinted down the streets of Mondstadt. He hoped that he arrived at the Guild in time.

Albedo spied you just as your were getting your commissions handed to you. Calling out he stopped slightly as you turned to look at him with a weary gaze. Clearly you were still upset about the matter, and for a moment Albedo wondered whether or not he should just turn and leave. But he knew that wouldn’t help either. Nothing would help until he apologized, and that was exactly what he was going to you.

“Albedo I-”

“I’m so sorry,” Albedo blurted out, not wanting to give you a chance to misconstrue his actions, “I am truly so sorry my darling. You were absolutely right, and I shouldn’t have dismissed you like that. I am so deeply sorry.”

“Albedo,” you replied, voice sort of quiet in a way that worried him, “I’m very glad to accept your apology for that, I’m sorry for snapping at you, only…”

“Only?”

“Only did you mean what you said when you asked if I even cared? Do you think I am so selfish or so careless. I understand of course that words said in arguments are ones no one really thinks of, but I still want to know.” You glanced away, trailing off and Albedo felt his heart seize and a wave of guilt poured over him.

“Of course not!” Albedo stepped closer to you. “May I?” He opened his arms and you nodded briefly before closing the room between you two.

You buried your face in his shoulder, not wanting to look up. “I’m so sorry my darling,” Albedo whispered, running circles along your back. “I’m so sorry for making you question you and how I saw you like that. You’re right, I wasn’t thinking. I was the one too wrapped up in myself, in my work, and for that I am so deeply sorry.”

“It’s alright,” you mumbled, just happy to be as you’d been before. Arguments were always unpleasant, no matter what, but now it was all said and done and you could be yourselves again.

“Would you like to eat lunch together?” Albedo ventured, smiling when you looked up and gave a soft “yes”. The relief he felt was overwhelming and he vowed next time to be more careful.

One can get over arguments, but words are difficult to take back.

 Childe

Although you disliked the Fatui in a vague, formal sort of way, that hatred had never truly been honed until you’d met Dottore.

At first you weren’t able to pinpoint what it was. Perhaps it was his erratic gaze, his odd smile, the way that he seemed to look at everything as if it was something to dissect – something which made you extremely uncomfortable. But then your dislike was given a proper motive when he and Childe went out one evening and your partner came back so plastered he didn’t seem to know who you were.

“Sorry about that dear.” Childe has laughed the day after, honestly how this man never seemed to have a proper hangover you didn’t know, not that he was drunk around you very often, something you appreciated greatly.

“Just don’t do it again.” You’d replied, frowning slightly. “That Dottore is a bad influence.”

“Awh, he’s not that bad,” Childe grinned, carelessly tossing about a book he had been reading, “not as bad as half the others anyways.”

“Still, be careful,” you commented, “you don’t want this to be a regular thing do you?”

“Aren’t I always careful?” Childe shook off your worry with his characteristic charm. “Besides Dottore’s going to be called back for a report to the Tsaritsa in about two weeks. Might as well make what you can out of his company while it lasts.”

“Perhaps.” You commented, secretly thinking that day couldn’t come close enough. Still it was only once, and you trusted Childe. He didn’t seem to like any of the Fatui anyways. Hopefully that would keep him from the fiasco of knocking down your door at 3:00.

But that didn’t stop him from doing it the next night, or the night after, or the night after. By night five you were absolutely done.

“Childe you have to stop this, you’re going to kill yourself the way you’re drinking.”

“You’re making too much of a fuss my dear,” Childe flitted his hand in the air as if batting away your concern, “if you think this is a lot you should see the sprees people go on in Snezhnaya. Honestly it’s only a little bit of fun, you know how hard it is to relax as a member of the Fatui in Liyue. Drinking buddies are hard to find, especially those who share my skill.”

“It’s more than a little bit of fun. Honestly Childe if I took this week by itself I’d think you were halfway to alcoholism! And I don’t appreciate you dragging me out of bed in the middle of the night, for fear you’d fall down the stairs if I left you and hurt yourself. It’s uncomfortable, seeing you so drunk.”

“Why?” Childe’s tone was still playful, but his eyes were narrowed slightly. Good. At least then he was listening to you.

“Have you ever interacted with a drunk person? Especially a drunk person on their fifth bender that week? It’s uncomfortable whether or not you know them and if you do it’s downright terrifying. Childe, I care about you and your health. And I’m begging you please stop these nights.”

“It’s fine.” Childe’s voice was growing harder by the moment. “I told you I can handle it, why do you have to pester so much?”

“Because I care about you!”

“Well maybe you should care a bit less.”

Childe stood up, making his way to the door. You knew that he was going to the Bank, knew that he was going to be out that night, but you said nothing. For now Childe’s sentence rang through your head. How could something so short be so painful. Shaking your head you moved to get your own equipment. Today was going to be a painful day.

You’d half expected the knock not to come, but sure enough it did. Turning to the clock you groaned inwardly. 3:45. Getting up you made your way to the door. Opening it you nearly slipped as your partner leaned on you. There was vodka on his breath and it made you feel as if you had no air. His words rattled through your head, refusing to leave since you’d first heard them. Maybe you should care a bit less. Fine, you would.

“Comrade?” Childe let out weakly. That was a new one. You made your way to the elevator and shoved him in there, making sure to angle it so he wouldn’t concuss himself.

“Get sober somewhere else.” And with that you slammed the button for the lobby floor, running out as the doors closed behind you. Childe made a strangled cry of protest but you didn’t care. You just wanted to sleep, and to forget. Maybe you should care less. Well why did it hurt to do so?

•

Childe squinted as a few rays of sun hit him square in the face. What was going on? Groaning he moved to reach for some blanket before realizing there was none. Shaking his head and ignoring the pounding headache that glanced right behind his eyelids he looked around. His mind was running as slow as it seemed possible to run but the minute it registered Childe felt himself flooded with embarrassment. A bench.

He was on a bench. Childe, Tartaglia, the Harbinger who had almost sunk Liyue. Said Harbinger was now sleeping on a bench, not because he’d fallen on hard times, not because of any reason that was understandable, but because he’d gotten too drunk to make it home.

No, not quite. Childe reached back into his memory, trying to piece together the night before. He had made it home, to your home, but you’d kicked him out. At first Childe felt a swell of irritation, but slowly but surely his memory caught up and he recalled the argument the morning before. He’d said something, hadn’t he. What was it?

Oh. Oh fuck.

Running back to your apartment he tried to straighten himself up, as if it wasn’t painfully obvious that he wasn’t nursing the worse sort of hangover. Damn he really relied on you. He relied on you and now he’d fucked up and now he needed to apologize.

Unfortunately his brain had only gotten that far so when you opened the door there was a bit of a pause, as he tried to think of what to say, words being drowned out by the pounding in his head.

“What do you want Childe?” You sighed, looking more depressed than anything. Childe felt a twinge of regret, but still the words wouldn’t come, not properly anyways, he must’ve still been a little drunk.

“I’m sorry.” Childe began, figuring that was the best way to go. “I’m sorry. Thank you and I’m sorry.”

“Thank you?” You tilted your head. “Are you sure you aren’t still drunk? I told you to sober up somewhere else.”

“Yes, I know, and I don’t know. But thank you for caring. And for looking after me. And I’m sorry.”

There was another pause, before you sighed.

“Come in.” You gestured, opening the door wider. Childe smiled weakly.

“Thank you.”

“Thank me later. I want to see you straightened up. And I want you to stop drinking like that.”

“I will.” Childe promised, making his way to the bedroom, wanting nothing more than to smash his face into a pillow. “Dottore was bad company anyways. Dear?”

“Yes?” You asked, still feeling a little shy. Perhaps you should’ve been more angry, but arguing always sat with you wrong. As did throwing Childe out.

“Thank you for caring.”

“You already said that.” You pointed out, finally cracking a smile, something that Childe mirrored, seeming somehow relieved.

“I know. But thank you.”

“Thank you for listening then.” You replied closing the blinds as Childe flopped onto the bed, sighing happily. “And thank you for forgiving me for kicking you out.”

“So callous.” Childe muttered, barely hearing your slight laugh as he drifted off to sleep.

 Xiao

You hadn’t wanted to fight, not at all. Your relationship was still so young after all, so raw, but you couldn’t help it. And now, as you watched Xiao disappear into thin air, you felt the sour taste of fear mixed with anger and regret. You’d almost forgotten really, how quickly an adeptus can vanish.

The point of contention had been your commissions. While Xiao said nothing against them verbally, you could tell that your newfound partner was dissatisfied by your constant comings and goings, something made worse by your recent string of long trips. And it had all come to a head when you announced you’d be gone a month, traveling into Inazuma via a covert nautical route – thank you Beidou – before delivering a few papers to the Monstadt embassy, most being passports and travel papers for diplomats who let theirs expire. Xiao had listened to the scheme, glared becoming more and more pronounced as you went on. And when you were done he just shook his head and crossed his arms.

“You aren’t going.”

“What do you mean I’m not going?” You asked, confused.

“You aren’t going. For the love of the Seven, what kind of partner let’s their loved one smuggle themselves into a country with no chance of reprieve if something goes wrong and with no contact for a month? You aren’t going.”

“I’m going whether you like it or not,” you replied, irritation quickly running through your voice, “it’s fine Xiao, many people have done this before. And we need to get those Liyue diplomats home. Honestly, I’m not sure why you aren’t proud of me, proud of what I’m doing.”

“Because you’re putting yourself in needless danger and breaking the law for a few people who I’m sure could do just fine themselves.”

“You can’t just keep me from being an Adventurer Xiao. You can’t keep me from doing my job.”

“I told you it’s because I care about you.”

“No, it’s because you’re putting yourself above the needs of both myself and your own land. Xiao, don’t you care about Liyue?”

“I care about the land,” his voice was like stone, and when you glanced into his eyes for a moment they seemed truly without empathy or care, the gaze of an adeptus who understood nothing of the human world, “humanity can rot.”

“I’m a human,” you pointed out, voice soft. “Don’t you care about me.”

For a moment recognition flitted through Xiao’s expression and he seemed almost regretful. Then his gaze hardened over once more.

“You aren’t going.” And with that he disappeared.

•

It took Xiao approximately ten minutes to regret the entire situation. Being angry for long periods of time wasn’t necessarily an alien emotion to Xiao – sometimes he felt as if he carried anger everywhere he went – but anger at you certainly was, and no sooner had it arrived then it was fading away, replaced instead with a deep sense of shame and guilt.

Why was he so upset? Was it really out of care for you? Yes, he decided, there was that aspect to it. But there was something more, something less noble. He was afraid, he was afraid for you. He was afraid you’d be arrested, or your ship would succumb to the open ocean, or you’d be betrayed, or…

Thoughts fluttered in and out of Xiao’s mind, each one more outlandish than the rest. Behind them said the same thing. He was afraid. You were right, he was afraid.

Did he care about humans? No, Xiao could say that with certainty. Not the way humans cared about each other, the way the humans cared about the adepti, when they thought about them. Xiao hadn’t cared for humans for a very long time. Even the karma that he kept from wreaking the land was exorcised, not because of humans, but because it was his duty. He didn’t care about humans, not really.

But he did care about you. He cared about you and he didn’t want to keep you from what you loved in return. Not like he didn’t know you would go do your mission anyways. You would do your mission and if Xiao wasn’t careful the weeks of cultivating an acquaintanceship, and friendship, and then more would be ruined. And he’d just be left, watching and waiting, wondering if you’d be alright.

Xiao was thankful that you hadn’t left the balcony of the Inn. Appearing before you he reached out to hug you before hesitating.

“You can go.” He murmured, knowing that wasn’t ever a question.

“I’m going.”

“And I’m sorry.”

“I wish you hadn’t disappeared like that.” You frowned, but Xiao shook his head. Was that the worst he’d done?

“No, I’m sorry for saying you couldn’t go. I’m sorry for not caring. I’m sorry.”

You furrowed your brow in a familiar expression and Xiao nodded slightly. Hurrying to embrace him you shook your head, still not over what had just transpired so quickly.

“Your eyes were so cold.” You murmured.

“I’m sorry.” Xiao murmured again, hugging you tightly.

“Don’t be.” You replied. “Just, stay like this a little longer.” Xiao was all to happy to comply.

It was easy to forget Xiao was an adeptus sometimes, that he still had that side of him, those cold eyes, that brusque demeanor. But even if that sometimes threw you off, even if you argued and worried and regretted, it would all be fine in the end.

Because you’d always return to a familiar embrace, and a shared love.

[verus-veritas]

Legacy

Revenge, Technology, Mind Transference, with a dash of unrequited love. What’s not to love? /Verus

"Dude! P-please! I'm sorry! Whatever you think I've done, it must all be a mistake!" Andew yelled, thrashing against his confinements and eyeing the only point of exit in the room. His firm muscles were wet and taut against his clothes, and his handsome face flush red with terror and worry.

"Are you really sorry though? It didn't seem like it from the way you acted during Gavin's funeral. The sneers and laughter you made as his parents said their final words to him..." I said, hiding in the shadows. Only my feet and the contours of my body was visible for him to see.

"N-no offense. I just found it funny when the parents said they wish he'd atleast gotten a girlfriend before he passed away-" The same devious sneer returned on his perfectly handsome face, as he most likely remembered the scene in his head.

"Of course you found it funny. Because you knew he was completely gay. Gay, and had a massive crush on you for ages. He literally worshipped the ground you walked on, and spent most of his waking hours wishing he could be with you." I explained, slowly walking around him as I pulled out a flimsy latex cap with electronical nodes attached to it.

"And I let him. I did no wrong." Andrew talked back. His eyes following my figure until I stood directly behind him.

"No! You lead him on, made him believe you were actually interested in him. And then you destroyed him. You are the reason he ran out of the house crying, and you are the reason he didn't see the truck speeding towards him!" My voice was shaking as I quickly slapped the cap onto his head, accidentally pulling out a few strands of his hair.

"Ouuch! Get this thing off me!" He shook his head and began thrashing about again.

"You know. He really loved you... He said he was going to make you the happiest man on earth. Showering you with gifts and undying love, and be by your side forever and ever. That's why he trusted you so wholeheartedly and let you do whatever you wanted."

"Naive..." He quietly muttered under his breath.

"He was even fine with you staring and drooling over other girls. As long as he could stay by your side."

"What a fag..." I could hear him gritting his teeth.

"But that evening when you invited him over, only to have him find you in the bedroom hooking up with a random girl... that completely ruined him. You shattered his dream, his self-confidence, and his sensitive soul! He didn't know what to do and where to go, which is why he ran straight out into the traffic..." My voice was uncontrollably going up and down now, as I was unable to hide my emotions.

"Dude only had himself to blame. He should've known I only had him around for the free stuff he bought for me." Andrew snickered, as he looked down at the expensive shorts Gavin had bought for him a few weeks prior.

"How dare you!" I tried to punch his shoulder, but knew I was too weak to do any real damage against his hard muscles.

"Y'know... it almost sounds like you had feelings for him- Wait a minute! You're that pastry white kid that always walked around with him aren't you?! Hah! 'Ghost boy' we called you!" The tone in his voice shifted - with more confidence and arrogance. Back to the way he normally talked - a manipulative bastard at heart. "I see. So you best friend Gavin never had feelings for you, and now that he's gone you blame yourself for not having stopped him."

"......" I clenched my hands till my knuckles turned white.

"Hah! Maybe you really were a horrible friend. Have you thought about that you might be the reason he's dead?" He laughed, obviously enjoying the way he was toying with my feelings.

"...you have no idea..." I mumbled, as tears began to flow down my cheeks.

"Maybe you should be the one sitting in this chair - tied up and wearing this stupid cap on your head. Hehe."

I took a deep breath and calmed myself, before walking around him once again and turning so he could see me. See the real me... one last time. "I will. Soon."

"W-what do you mean with that? And why are you also wearing that ridiculous cap?" He asked. His tone in voice once again becoming panicked and anxious.

"You see. The reason why I'm so pale is because I spend so much time at home playing with my inventions and devices. Coding is one of my favorite things to do. And for the last few months I've relentlessly been working on creating this device we're both wearing right now. It was originally only meant to be used on you, recoding the patterns in your brain into loving Gavin as much as he loved you. While also erasing all of your bad traits and turning you into his ideal boyfriend... but there's no reason for that anymore, is there? So, I upgraded it into 2.0, which can now be used with two people."

"P-pff... yeah right... and what does this new version do then?"

"It can transfer the consciousness between two human brains. Even recoding the brain into believing the new consciousness have always been in control of its own body. All the memories, habits, and even muscle memory will be easily accessible to the new permanent owner." I explained, as I began fiddling with a machine by our side. The nodes on our caps lit up.

"Permanent?! Wait a minute. Let's say all of this freaky sci-fi stuff is actually real, what's going to happen to my consciousness?" Andrew asked, as he began to get more anxious by the beeping sound of the nodes on his head.

"All gone. Overwritten by mine. Erased out of existence with no way of restoring it." I answered nonchalantly. Flicking the last switched around, the device was now ready to be activated.

"What the fuck! Then you're basically killing me?! Get me out of here, you sick freak!" He began violently thrashing against the back of the chair, and flung his head around to get the latex cap off... but to no avail.

"Am I really though? Your memories, your body, and your relationships will all still be here, under my complete control. I'm just... discarding a small part of you that's no longer necessary."

"No...no... Help! HELP! SOMEONE!! THIS CRAZY MOTHERFUCKER IS GOING TO KILL ME!" He shouted at the top of his lungs, but the soundproofed walls would do him no good.

I flicked the final switch and walked over to him as the machine began buzzing. Standing in front of him, I suddenly sat down on his lap and grabbed hold of his face. I stared into his fearful yet piercing blue eyes and slid my hands across the cheeks and contours of his face.

"This beautiful face of yours that Gavin loved, I promise I'll take good care of it and cherish it until the day I die. It's the least I can do to honor my friend Gavin." I leaned forward and gently laid a kiss on his sweaty forehead, while holding him in place as he screamed for all he was worth.

"No! Noo! NOoO-Uoogguuughhhh" His scream turned into a gurgle as his eyes rolled to the back of his head. At the same time, my eyes went white and hazy as my pastry body slumped over and fell on the cement floor. Most likely cracked open its head or something from the sound of it.

"NgOOuoouughhgguuuhh!!!" Andrew's head flung back and forth as if to fight whatever was invading his head, but it barely took a minute before the thrashing suddenly stopped and his head slumped down.

His eyes were closed, his face flushed red from exertion, and the sweat and drool pooled down onto his expensive shorts. A further five minutes of stillness and blinking nodes passed before any activity was seen.

---

*Gasp*

I awoke to the cap on my head giving me a quick electric shock. In front of me laid my old withered body, lifeless and without a doubt stone dead. My throat felt dry and tired, and the ties on my arms hurt like hell. In fact, everything felt, looked, and smelt different. The smell oozing from my sweaty clothes that once smelt great now stunk in my nose. I could recall from Andrew's memories that he showered atleast twice a day. I showered atleast twice a day.

After some fiddling with the special knots in my back, I easily slipped the rope off. Massaging the sore parts on my wrist, I soon relished in how big and strong my new hands looked now. Hands who should've been holding Gavin's...

I explored further up till I reached my new bulging biceps. Squeezing them I felt how firm and taut they were. I never in a million years would have managed to get myself this big, but here I was, standing in the body of a perfect specimen. The body of the man who my friend loved, but who didn't truly love him back. If only I could've done this before Gavin died... Would he have loved me instead, or would he have hated me for what I had done? Well, atleast he would've been alive.

My focus went to my Andrew face, as I caressed the blemish-free skin and the small stubble forming on it. The face of the man I had hated for a while, the face of the man whose identity I would have to take over, and the face I would see in the mirror for as long as I breathed. It was one of the most handsome faces I've ever laid my eyes on no doubt, so I'm perfectly fine with that decision.

My hands continued to explore what was now mine; running fingers through my lush but wet hair, following the outline of my cobblestone abs, and shaking my strong and muscular legs awake from sitting too long.

Not long after I finally slipped the drool and sweat-soaked shorts off myself and watched as the tool between my legs arose to its new owner. It might not have been as long as my former one, but the very girth of it made up for it. As I enveloped it between my palms, I realized that no one had ever been as intimate with Andrew's tool as I was now, and no one would ever be. Not even Gavin would if he was somehow resurrected. Only I, Andrew would ever know how this throbbing member would feel in my own hands, the endorphins and pleasure its touch would send throughout my amazing body, and the ultimate earth-shattering orgasms I would experience as I edge myself to climax every day from now on.

The very thought of it immediately brought me to the brink of orgasm, so I quickly spread my legs apart and thrust the member fully through my grasp. It was all that was needed as I suddenly began shaking with pleasure and exploded shot after shot of Andrew seed all over the floor, myself and my former lifeless body."Ugh! Uuuugh! UUUuOOGggHH!!"

“.... Holy shit.....” I moaned, slightly shocked by the unfamiliarity of the new voice coming from my throat.

Reeling from my first ever orgasm in my new body and life, I sat back down on the chair and took a breather. I was sweaty, my crotch sticky, and my armpits stunk. Yet, I know I still looked glorious. How couldn't I? After all, I am Andrew. The man who Gavin loved, and who loved him back just as much, if not even more...

I will dedicate this new life of mine to worship and care for this body just as much as Gavin would have. His legacy, Andrew's body and life, and my consciousness have finally become one... and I promise I will carry them with pride and confidence to the grave... even if it is the only thing I will accomplish in this short insignificant life of mine.

[rockingrobin69]

Learning Curve

Four out of five dentists would recommend against reading this piece (1.7k). Think of your teeth! 

“Uncle Harry, did you know Uncle Draco is a weredragon?”

“A what now?” he frowned, tucking the duvet under Teddy’s chin.

“A weredragon. Like how dad was a werewolf, but with a dragon.”

Harry huffed a small chuckle. “I’m pretty sure he isn’t, Ted.” To be fair, considering all the things he’d learned about him since Malfoy adopted Teddy, Harry wouldn’t be too surprised if he actually turned out to be a weredragon. It won’t even be the most shocking discovery.  

“No, he is. All the best people are were-something, he said. So he’s a weredragon.”

Harry resisted the temptation to ask if he was a were-something, too. “All right then, menace, go to sleep. You can tell me on Sunday if you’d seen him turn.” He shook his head through all the begging, bargaining and trickery, until Teddy finally relented and closed his eyes. Harry chewed on his grin, pressed a kiss to Teddy’s forehead, murmured in his ear and left, silently closing the door behind him.

And then heading out with his usual gracefulness – accidentally knocking into the dresser with a big yelp, stepping over every creaking floorboard, smacking against the door because he wasn’t really looking ahead, he was looking for – ah. Malfoy heard him, it would seem. Standing at the kitchen doorway, leaning against it like some sort of model in a Muggle magazine, rolling his eyes. Harry noticed he was holding his breath.

“Care to join me for a drink, Potter?”

He didn’t know why he was nervous. This happened every night.

The thing is, Harry loved Teddy so much. So, so much, he even considered adopting him himself after Andromeda and all. But Harry’s stupid job was too stupid to allow it, and Malfoy was technically ‘family’. And so Harry came by every day – well, night, stupid job and all – to see how Teddy was doing. And then, every night, he’d run into Malfoy, who had no choice but to invite him for a drink. It would be wine, sometimes, or flavored butterbeer, or – and only once – straight up Ogden’s whisky. But mostly it’d be hot chocolate, which apparently was something Malfoy enjoyed, and something Harry seemed to find quite irresistible.  

Of all the new things he’d learned about Malfoy, this was perhaps one of the most surprising. He made the best hot chocolate. It was the perfect temperature, the perfect sweetness, the perfect texture. Perfection in a cup. Harry followed him into the kitchen, sat in his favorite chair (somewhat dangerously with the way Malfoy’s books were stacked so high behind his back), and turned his gaze to the fridge. Teddy’s newest masterpiece was magicked to the door, and even squinting Harry couldn’t tell what it was meant to be.

“A wolf,” Malfoy muttered as he laid a cup of hot cocoa before Harry. “Your godson is very talented, you know.”

Harry hummed into his cup, probably smearing his nose full of whipped cream. “Bet you I could draw a better one.”

He waited. Some nights Malfoy wasn’t in the mood. He’d be tired, or closed off, and they’d just sit there in silence and stare. Some nights he was restless, far too giddy to stay still, and they’d go for a walk in the forest. But tonight –

Tonight Malfoy was game. He scoffed and summoned two quills and some parchment. “Let’s see – five minutes, best drawing wins?”

Harry grinned privately to himself. There must have been something in that hot chocolate, because he couldn’t stop thinking about how he just loved spending nights at Wiltshire.  

*

“Uncle Harry,” Teddy asked one Sunday, sliding into his wellies. “Did you know that Uncle Draco had a pet a stag?”

“What?” Harry was busy arranging a beanie on his orange hair with his tongue between his teeth. “A pet stag?”

“Yeah, when he was a kid. I asked him why he likes them so much, and he told me. His name was Arold and he was very stupid, Uncle Draco said.”

“Arold?” Harry laughed, tilting his head. “Ted, you know Uncle Draco is messing with you, yeah? He never had a pet stag. You can’t have stags as pets.” Malfoy had peacocks, which he hated, and the eagle owl, which he loved, and that was that. No stags. Harry knew that. He picked up every single piece of information about Malfoy slowly, carefully, and catalogued it all in his head. Malfoy was afraid of hippogriffs (still) and very enthusiastic about nifflers. He wanted a kneazle really badly as a kid, but his mother was allergic to the fur. Harry knew these things, now. He even had this insane idea to get a kneazle for him and Teddy, a fantasy he liked to entertain from time to time. Teddy’s words brought him back to reality with his cheeks oddly flushed and his ears ringing.

“That’s what he said.”

Harry wondered why Teddy thought Malfoy liked stags to begin with, but he’d already ran outside and jumped into the nearest puddle, so the question had to wait.

Malfoy was in the kitchen when they returned, and Harry plopped down next to a steaming mug of hot cocoa. The clutter all around practically screamed we actually live here, and Harry felt the warmth of it in his bones. His eyes kept zooming from Malfoy, to Teddy, happily blabbering about the squirrel they’d seen on their walk, and something in him thrummed. We actually live here. The flavor of want was sweet and sadly familiar.

*

“Uncle Harry,” Teddy asked one night in November, a tired little bundle of curiosity that ached in Harry’s chest with affection, “What’s emveeos?”

“Huh?” Harry stopped at the doorway, eyebrows drawn.

“Emveeos. Like if I was emveeos of someone.” Teddy gave him an exasperated little look, a come on you should know this one when Harry simply shook his head. “Uncle Draco said he’s emveeos of me.”

“What? When?” Harry’s heart did a funny little leap. He still didn’t really understand the question, but apparently the mere mention of ‘Uncle Draco’ was enough to ignite this heat inside him.

“Because you always kiss me good night.”

Harry could only shrug, but the heat intensified into something near intolerable. “I dunno, Ted. Best to ask him tomorrow, yeah? You know Uncle Draco is better at these things.” Better at most things, really. Cooking, drawing, writing, teaching. He was just good at everything. Even dancing – Harry had seen photographs of a very sulky boy beautifully performing the tango, no joke. And he could make the best hot chocolate. And –

“Okay. Good night, Uncle Harry.”

“Good night, Menace. I love you.” Harry made sure to tell him that every night, even if Teddy was already asleep. It was good for him too, he thought, to get the practice.

That night there were mini marshmallows in the mug. Harry couldn’t help it anymore; he was so enamored with the – drink – it felt a little like an explosive device in his chest. He found a way to distract Malfoy for a couple of seconds while he covertly drew a vial of the cocoa, stashing it in his pocket. There had to be something wrong with it, a potion or something. There had to, or Harry was losing his mind. He’d lost enough things for a lifetime, he thought.

*

“No, Uncle Harry! Cookies first.”

It was the week before Christmas, and Malfoy was out on a last minute gift shopping trip. Harry and Teddy were in the kitchen together, in charge of lunch, though Teddy was more interested in sampling the Christmas cookies Malfoy had made. To distract him Harry suggested they try to prepare Malfoy’s cocoa – well, also so he’d have something hot to drink when he comes back, because Malfoy always suffered from the cold.

“Oh, Uncle Draco doesn’t like hot chocolate,” Teddy shook his head.

“But,” Harry didn’t know what to do with this information, which stood in stark contrast with everything he knew in this life. “He drinks it all the time with me.”

“No, no, he says it’s too sweet. He never drinks it.”

Harry felt utterly lost. The knowledge he’d collected of Malfoy was the foundation with which he was trying to build this – it was what he stupidly thought he could use to make a home. Hell, he’s been practicing – getting ready for – and all this time, Malfoy was lying?

When Malfoy returned Harry pretty much threw himself at him, boxing Malfoy at the door with all his shopping bags.

“You don’t like hot chocolate,” he said accusingly, and Malfoy’s eyes went big.

“What?”

“You don’t. And you told Ted you had a pet stag and that you’ve embossed him or something like that. But you don’t like hot chocolate.”

“I – “ Harry’s never seen Malfoy so flushed in his life, and was furious with how adorable that was. “All right. I don’t.”

“But you make it almost every night,” Harry contested. He felt a little woozy.

“Yes.” When Harry gave an odd grunt, he closed his eyes. “You like it.”

“So?”

“So…” Malfoy’s shrug was so painfully sad. “I thought you’d… come here if you…”

Harry didn’t wait for the sentence to finally come to a stop, it was taking forever. “So you just lied?” 

“No!” two grey eyes opened, sort of panicked. “I just – I’ve been trying, all right? all this time, to learn to… to get to know you. All these things about you, and then I saw how much you liked it when I made hot cocoa for Teddy and – I just. Want you to. Have. Things that you like.”

Harry couldn’t feel his tongue. His head was spinning. He didn’t know what to do about this, didn’t know what to think, didn’t know – he just didn’t know. Sadness was familiar, and losing, and being lied to, but – but this –

“Kiss him, Uncle Harry!” a little voice carried from behind him, and startled he caught a glimpse of blue hair. Hell. A quarter of his age, and Teddy was at least twice as clever. Harry leaned forward and did the only thing that made sense, and the kiss was solid enough to build on. Malfoy’s lips were the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted. Hot chocolate, no matter how good, could never compare.

Wow, I really ran away with this one... Today was day 6 of my Seven Sins of Drarry one-shot collection, and was all about - Teddy almost had it: envy! Hope you’re ready to be good, because there’s only one sin left!

Day 1: wrath   | Day 2: lust  | Day 3: sloth  | Day 4: greed  | Day 5: gluttony | Day 7: pride

[userlando]

my secret (tom holland x fem!reader nsfw)

(gif credit) summary: during an impromptu sleepover with your friends, you can’t help but sneak into tom’s room for a late night rendezvous. pairing: tom holland / female reader. wordcount: 2,942 words warnings: penetrative sex and fingering, unprotected sex, biting, kissing, swearing. a/n: figures that my inspiration disappears for almost two years only to come back while I’m messing around on my phones notes app. sorry for any mistakes, this was written and rewritten on my phone and it’s the first thing i’ve written in a long while. all feedback is appreciated!! also, this is as usual dedicated to @babylevines i love love love you x

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

You cracked the door open, squinting your eyes in the dark while praying silently that the door wouldn’t creak like it usually did as you pushed it open enough to slip through. After the telltale click of it closing sounded, you took a second to adjust to the darkness with bated breath; Trying to find the sleeping body of Tom in bed.

It didn’t take you long to spot him, tangled up in the crisp white sheets as he snoozed on his back with his arms spread wide over the king sized bed. You almost felt bad for even having the thought of waking him up, but you hadn’t had your hands on him for five days and it was torture to sit through the entire evening among your friends, hanging out while he was giving you subtle stares across the room that made your heart race ridiculously fast. There was only so much playful sexting you could take before you combusted.

With that thought in your mind, you quickly slipped your basketball shorts off your legs and threw them somewhere on the floor.

You snuck up to the bed, finding a spot on the mattress where you could place your knee as you heaved yourself up with a huff. Tom let out a small sleepy hum at the feel of the mattress dipping and you had just enough time to straddle him gently before his eyes cracked open, sleepy and disoriented.

“Y/n? What-?” He cut himself off, voice hoarse and dripping in confusion. “You okay? What’s goin’ on?”

It was dark in the room, but you could see as he lifted his head to glance around the room, eyes settling on you in pure confusion and a little worry. It made you smile. His eyebrows furrowed but you didn’t miss the way his hands immediately found your hips, gripping them in a way that had you grinding down on his crotch just to get some sort of friction.

“Fuck.” He swore loudly, disturbing the quiet in the room and you dipped down to catch his lips with yours; To silence him and to silence the voice in your head, screaming at you to kiss him.

He replied in gusto, opening his mouth as soon as your tongue touched his lip. The taste of sleep, of him, made your thighs clench around his hips and you couldn’t stop the small whimper from slipping out.

It wasn’t hard to coax him into a short make out session, but you could still feel the confusion in his movements so you pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes. He was breathing hard, tilting his chin up to steal another kiss from your mouth and the gesture made you smile, teeth biting down on your lower lip.

“Everyone’s asleep.” You said, watching as his eyes flickered from yours to momentarily look at the clock on the nightstand.

He’d only been asleep for three hours, having gone to bed before the movie had ended in the living area. You’d stayed up with your other friends to finish it, slipping in some deep, late night talk before you all called it a night. You’d shared the guest bed with Zendaya, but sleep hadn’t come to you as easily as it had come to her.

You’d been too on edge, trying to plan out how you could sneak off to Tom’s room without everyone else hearing. But you’d succeeded, and it was all worth it.

“They’ll hear us, won’t they?” Tom whispered, and you almost laughed at the way his eyebrows furrowed as his hips seemed to automatically grind up against yours. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous.”

The unexpected compliment made your face heat up and you were quick to bury it in his neck, pulling a deep breath before closing your mouth around a patch of skin right between the juncture of his neck and shoulder, sucking hard. He squirmed, clearly ticklish but it still made him let out a small moan that vibrated against your cheek.

“They won’t hear us if we’re quiet.” You mumbled.

Tom tightened his grip on your hip before twisting you so you were laying side by side instead and you peered up at him as he heaved himself up so he could support his weight on his elbow.

“Alright, miss noisy.” He gave you a grin, along with a quick bop of his finger against your nose and you narrowed your eyes at him.

Before you could protest, say that you weren’t the only noisy one, he’d let the same hand wander up your naked thigh; Like he was taking in the softness of your skin. You glanced at it at the same time he did, and you held your breath when it traveled up your stomach and beneath your loose t-shirt. Your heart picked up its pace as he circled your belly button, lightly tickling you just to hear your small intake of breath. He let out a crude curse when he cupped your breast, pinching a nipple between his thumb and forefinger before twisting it in a way that had you squirming, back arching.

“Please.” You whispered, bucking your hips toward him but he only watched you with an amused tilt of his lips. The bastard was enjoying this a little too much.

He gave your other nipple the same amount of attention before dipping his head down to kiss you, licking hotly into your mouth.

“Bloody hell, darling,” He huffed out a small laugh, spanning his fingers across the side of your torso before slipping around you and into the flimsy material of your cotton panties. “Do you have any idea what you do to me? Every time you sit across from me, looking so innocent and absolutely delicious? Drives me nuts.”

He tightens his grip on your ass cheek in a bruising way and you can’t help but slip your hands into his hair to bring his lips toward yours in a sloppy kiss. You let him fall on his back and move to straddle him once again, refusing to back down when he tried to break your kiss to protest.

He gave up easily when you bit his lip, reaching your hands down to clumsily push your underwear down and throwing them somewhere behind you before resettling on his lap. There was no doubt that he could feel your heat against his covered crotch, and that alone made you clench.

“Remember last night?” You whispered and any other day you’d be embarrassed by how breathless you sounded.

He let out a small hum when you put your palms against his naked pectorals, raking your nails down with a pressure you knew would get him going. It took him a while to gather his thoughts, but then he looked up at you, eyes eager and heated.

“Gonna have to be a little more specific, darling.” He laughed, voice hushed.

You shot him a grin and leaned down so you could kiss his throat, right above his Adam’s apple that bobbed when he swallowed heavily.

“Last night when we texted, I said that I needed you inside me,” Your voice was low as you kissed up his sharp jawline. “And you said-“

“- I’d fuck you so hard you’d forget your own name.” He finished for you, hands coming up to surround your face in a firm grip.

Your mouth dropped open right as he went in for the kiss, rendering you speechless for a full minute before the need became too much to ignore.

“Are you going to carry out your promise, sweetheart?” You asked, earning a nip of teeth to your lip.

Tom didn’t reply, one hand leaving your hip to touch your pussy, testing out how wet you were and if he needed to prep you. His face contorted in concentration as he pulled out his finger, working quickly with the same hand to pull himself out of his sweatpants without jostling you too much.

“You know I always keep my promises.” He gave you a chaste kiss, sounding all too cocky and you couldn’t stop the moan ripping from your throat as you felt him breach you a moment later. “Quiet, my love.”

You braced your hands on either side of his head, fingers gripping the sheets in a tight grip as you pushed back onto his cock. He was clearly trying to hold back as to not hurt you, but you were way past the point of caring or waiting.

Your eyes screwed shut as he finally sunk into you and Tom moaned into your ear when you ground down on him, raising your hips the best you could before taking him in again in a rhythm that made his breath stutter against your lips.

It wasn’t lost on you how absolutely gorgeous Tom was, thinking back to the first time when Zendaya had brought you along a pub night and you’d met him. There had been an instant attraction that was undeniable and from then on it had been constant texting and late night phone calls in the quiet of your room, disturbing your roommates without a question.

Within those six months, you’d seen him when he was lounging at home with sweatpants, in a suit for whatever red carpet event he attended, naked in all his glory and even dressed up when there was any kind of event that required it. But this, this was your favourite view of them all.

He stretched his head back on the pillow, making an indent on it as he let out something akin to a moaning hum when you sat up straight to ride him at a better angle. His eyes were scrunched shut, teeth buried into his bottom lip and his hands scrambled to grab a hold of your hips - urging you to move faster.

He looked downright obscene with his throat on display, breathing harshly through his nose as he tried to control his urge to hammer into you like a deprived man.

“I - oh, I needed this.” You whispered out, a sharp gasp evading you when he thrust up so suddenly that you had to lean forward to steady yourself on his heaving chest. “Tommy!”

You knew you were being too loud. You knew that you were on the brink of exposing your relationship that you’d worked hard to keep a secret from your friends. And Tom still had enough sanity to realise it because he was quick to slide his hands up your back, bringing you flush against his chest before rolling the two of you over. It wasn’t smooth and the awkwardness made you snicker as he slipped out of you. He snorted unattractively and it set your uncontrollable giggling off.

“Don’t laugh at me,” He tried to pout but the smile on his face said otherwise as he leaned forward to kiss you, burying his face in your shoulder after. “I’m trying to be sexy and smooth.”

You gasped momentarily as he guided himself into you again, arms and legs wrapping around him and mouth finding his shoulder to nip on when he started thrusting slowly, deeply.

“The smoothest.” You teased, smile evident in your voice.

Tom brought one of his free hands back up your thigh and the shock of the smack he landed on your left ass cheek made you jump with a yelp.

“Brat.” He murmured huskily against your ear, kissing right beneath it to soften the reprimand.

He thrusted forward and hit a particularly good spot that had you whimpering pathetically.

“Mmm, you love it.” You had to have the last word, and Tom seemed to secretly enjoy it because he steadied himself on one arm and grabbed your thigh with the other, picking up pace as he started fucking you in a toe curling fashion.

The perfect angle that he knew would make you inch closer to climax, with the help of his crotch rubbing right against your clit with every thrust of his hips.

A creaking sound made you perk your ears up and you quickly realised that it wasn’t coming from inside of the room. Rather, outside in the hallway. You instantly put your hand on Tom’s shoulder and the other one on his mouth he’d opened as he panted. His eyes opened and searched yours, eyebrows scrunching together.

“Someone’s outside.” You whispered, trying to get your breathing under control as you heard the telltale creak of the bathroom door down the hall.

Tom licked against the palm of your hand and the wetness had you snatching it away with a startled gasp, a giggle escaping the both of you as you looked at each other.

“It’s probably Harrison and his microscopic bladder.” He rolled his eyes with a grin, pushing himself up carefully as to not rustle the sheets too loudly.

Your eyes fluttered shut for a second when you felt him move inside you and you couldn’t help but clench down on his cock, a breathy moan tumbling from your lips.

“Do you want to get caught, naughty girl?” He raised his eyebrows in a teasing manner, placing both of his hands on either side of your hips.

You hummed, but the both of you knew that the reason you’d kept your relationship a secret for so long was partly because of the thrill. There was nothing better than sneaking around whenever you saw an opportunity, keeping your hands to yourself in public or among your friends like you were nothing but acquaintances. It had been all for fun at first before the both of you realised that you wanted more, so you decided that it’d be best to explore it in secret and see where that took you.

It wouldn’t be the end of the world if you were caught by any of your friends, but there was a mutual agreement that you’d sneak around until that day came.

“Wish I could take a picture of you like this,” Tom said lowly, hands sliding up your skin and pulling your shirt up with them until your entire chest was exposed to his eyes only. “Lying on my bed, half naked with your tits out and your hair a mess. Aching for my cock. I can feel it. You want to come, don’t you, sweetheart?”

He pushed your shirt up so it laid comfortably rolled up beneath your chin, fingers pinching your nipples as he started thrusting again.

“Just like that.” Was all you managed to whisper, bringing a hand down to rub at your clit to speed things along.

“Fuck, you feel so good.”

He fucked into you, pushing you up the bed as he leaned forward to bury his head in your chest. His arms wrapped around your body, fingers digging into your back to pull you into him as he drove forward.

Your orgasm took you by surprise, a guttural moan tearing its way out of your mouth as every nerve came alive in your body; Toes curling and stomach spasming.

Tom whispered out your name and that was the only warning you got before he pulled out, balancing his weight on one elbow as he jerked himself off and came right over your pussy. You weakly buried your hands in his hair, feeling him shake as he rode out the last of his orgasm before collapsing on top of you, mess be damned.

His face was as warm as his puffs of breaths on your neck and you turned your head to press small kisses against his hair.

“I needed that.” He murmured, sounding sleepy and content. Much like a cat.

“Me too.”

The both of you laid there until the mess on your lower half of your body started feeling tacky and uncomfortable. Tom heaved himself up with great difficulty but you stopped him when he swung his legs over the edge to get off the bed; Clearly intending to get a towel so he could clean you off.

“It’s alright, Tommy. I need to go to the bathroom on my way back anyway.” You assured him and he nodded, a grateful and sleepy smile gracing his flushed face.

You got up from the bed, having to support yourself with a hand on his shoulder for a second to avoid falling because of your wobbly legs. A huffed laugh sounded from behind you and you rolled your eyes, refusing to turn around to see his smug smile, opting to find your panties and shorts instead.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then.” You whispered after you’d sorted yourself out long enough to make a trip to the bathroom without risking any awkward encounters.

Tom nodded, beckoning you forward with his arms and you didn’t hesitate to walk into them. He wrapped his arms around you, laying his head against your chest.

“Can’t you just sleep here?” He sounded whiny, and you pulled back with a laugh to look at him.

“I can,” You brushed a lock of damp hair away from his forehead and bent down to kiss him. “But where’s the fun in that?”

His laughter was the last thing you heard as you shut his door behind you, taking a moment to calm your heart before making your way to the bathroom.

The clock was 3:56am by the time you crawled under the bedsheets, feeling exhaustion crawling over your body after the nights event. Zendaya was silent, sleeping with her back turned to you and you let your eyes close shut; Fully intending on having a good dream when your friend sighed.

“You guys aren’t as discreet as you think you are.”

[ptergwen]

web of lies

take a leap. if you start to fall, the net will appear to catch you.

photographer!peter x journalist!reader || masterlist

w/c: 7.1k

warnings: swearing, one drinking mention, descriptions of anxiety, and angst if ya squint

summary: peter can’t stop holding your hands, betty and ned are the modern day bonnie and clyde, ned is a terrible guy in the chair, the osborn’s are up to something, and mj hates you all

a/n: y’all i’m super excited about this series like i haven’t had an idea i’ve really loved in months? so it’s good to be back !!! there are tons of things i have planned and i can’t wait to share them with all of you hehe i really hope you enjoy part one <3 happy reading

to be honest, which is what you do best, you’ve had a thing for peter parker your whole time at the daily bugle. you actually almost told him once.

a couple months ago, peter walked you home on a night you worked overtime. he’d came in last minute to leave some pictures on your boss’s desk. no one else but you was there, hunched at your computer in the dim office lighting. peter was pleasantly surprised to see you, yet concerned for your well-being. you had to put your finishing touches on a story.

he didn’t feel comfortable letting you travel alone at that hour. so, he went with you when you were ready. his company was more than welcomed. you told peter about your article while you two sat on the subway. he’d listened intently, your head resting on his shoulder and his arm around you. he made sure you got to your apartment building alright as well.

“hey, peter?” you’d asked, halfway up the steps. he was waiting until you were inside and safe to leave. “hm? you good?” he’d smiled sort of expectantly. “yeah. i... i wanted to say...”

your words got caught in your throat when he gave you the softest puppy eyes you’ve ever seen. you couldn’t do it. for some reason, you were too scared to confess how you felt. “thanks again for walking me home,” you’d settled on. he’d seemed disappointed that was what you wanted to tell him. nevertheless, he said not to worry about it before taking off.

that one moment perfectly captures it all; how yours and peter’s narrative plays itself out.

—

“we’ve got an update on hydra v. the people!”

“those freaky giraffes escaped the zoo... again.”

“shoot one more spitball and it’ll be your last.”

“does anyone have an aspirin?”

welcome to the daily bugle, where the chaos never ends and the calm never starts. you’ll find new york’s finest writers, publishers, and creatives of all kind right here. that would include you. you’re one of the top journalists in the whole building, according to mr. norman osborn. he’s the brilliant and slightly insane man who runs this place.

although it’s rare for someone in your field, you were hired straight out of college. norman read a few pieces you’d written and loved them so much that he offered you a job. full time, full benefits, no questions asked. there was something special about the way you wove your words together. your writing had its own voice. a strong voice, one the paper was severely lacking.

you’ve been with the bugle for just over a year now. it’s not the quiet, nine to five gig you were initially expecting it to be. you’re each very unique individuals in your office, and there’s never a dull moment because of it. your coworkers can be found hosting debates on the riskiest topics or tackling each other for blueberry muffins, and that’s just a regular tuesday. the place is stranger than strange. but, it’s become home.

thanks to mr. osborn being so accommodating, you actually settled in rather quickly. another big help has been the friends you’ve made. your first was michelle jones, who prefers to be called mj. she’s a fellow journalist with a wickedly dark humor that trickles into her writing. if you had to describe her in one word, it would be blunt. mj is as real as it gets, and also eternally loyal. she keeps her circle small, so you’re honored you get to be in it.

mj sits right next to you, which means you’re always talking through your days. that’s due in part to the way your office is set up. there aren’t any cubicles, tables and swirly chairs taking up their space instead. norman heard it was more progressive, probably from his son harry.

harry is about your age, only a couple of years older. he hangs around quite a lot, but doesn’t do much with his time besides that. according to norman, he’s still seeking out his passion. he’s banking on him finding a suitable career at the bugle. he’d like to pass this all on to harry some day, hopefully sooner than later. either way, you don’t mind having harry here. he’s super funny and friendly with everyone.

there’s also ned leeds, who’s an editor and reviews most of your pieces. he’s sweeter than candy, even when he’s ripping your grammar to shreds. on the rare occasions you’re not discussing breaking news, you two talk about movies. ned is a film buff and gives you the best recommendations. you’re convinced he was a critic in his past life.

last but so from least is peter parker. he only works for the bugle part time, since he’s still in school. you both graduated from your respective colleges the same year. peter wants to get his masters degree, though. he’s a photographer who’s aspiring to be a cinematographer. him and ned have their passion for the industry in common, and that’s what makes them such great friends.

you learned this and more from the times you and peter have partnered up on stories. he’s one of your best friends not only at the bugle, but in your entire life. the many long nights you’ve spent collaborating have brought you close to each other. they consist of drinking and deep talks, along with some actual work. he takes the pictures, you do the writing. you’ve been told you make a lovely pair.

peter says it himself, too. you’d like to believe he means it as more than coworkers. he’s so caring, and smart, and pure, and peter. yeah, you like him an awful lot. you can hardly stand the feeling of it sometimes.

the fact that you you haven’t come clean already is ridiculous.

“goddamn. not again,” you mutter out. “em, you better come look at this. it’s bad.” mj wheels over to you in her chair with a puzzled look. her eyes follow yours, landing on your computer. “leeds just sent this? to everyone?” she questions, your reply a short hum. you’re both staring daggers at the email your screen displays.

ned is responsible for assigning each journalist their own topics to cover. he’s been lacking a bit recently, having you write up think pieces on fluffy things. in other words, stuff that no one cares about. he asked you to compare oat milk and almond milk just last week. you’d hoped this week would be better, but here you are.

“this is ass. who does he think we are, buzzfeed?” mj scoffs at her own words. the daily bugle prides itself on being a reliable news source, on paper and tv. you’re starting to stoop down to the low level of your competitors. “he assigned me some tiktok dance trend. i’m not writing a single word about that app.” she sets her elbows down on the table, head in her hands.

“aw, why not? grandma mj isn’t down with the kids?” you tease and click out of the upsetting email. “i don’t write for kids,” mj deadpans. she pushes her glasses up on her nose. “what’d you get?” “the evolution of memes,” you gloomily reply. you’re surprised norman has been approving these topics. then again, ned is the head editor. he can do whatever he wants regardless of approval.

mj glares over at the kitchen, where betty brant currently resides. she’s making two hot chocolates instead of her usual one. “i blame her,” mj mumbles to you. your eyebrows furrow. “dude, what? betty is an angel. she doesn’t even work in editing.” betty is the bugle’s highest rated anchorwoman. her and her news team are on people’s televisions every night.

“no, but she has been spending a generous amount of time with leeds,” mj grumbles. she’s admittedly very nosy. the upside is that she tells you any juicy office drama there is. “my theory is betty’s making him give us crap stories so she can report the good ones.” she glances over at you to see what you think. “no way. that can’t be allowed... or legal,” you laugh back.

as if on cue, ned appears next to betty in the kitchen. he takes the extra hot coco that’s piled high with whipped cream. betty tucks a sheet of paper into his suit pocket and kisses his cheek, then he’s gone. you can only gasp as you watch this unfold. what has she done to poor, clueless ned?

“not such an angel anymore, huh?” mj smirks in satisfaction. “suddenly, she has red horns and a pitchfork,” you bitterly agree with your tongue in your cheek. betty waves to you two on her way back to broadcasting. mj gives her a fake nice finger wave, you ignoring her. “we can’t sit back and let this happen, em. we have to do something,” you decide. “let’s tell norman.”

uninterested, mj takes off her glasses and starts to clean them. “like he’ll believe us. yeah, golden girl betty brant is sabotaging the writer’s room,” she rewords her previous statement to put its stupidity in perspective. you throw your hands up. “she is, though! we literally watched it happen!” mj puts her freshly wiped glasses back on and sighs.

“i doubt norman would care, y/n. every newspaper to ever exist is corrupt somehow.” your pessimistic old pal has a point. however, you’re not so willing to accept it. “why can’t we be the first one that isn’t?” you offer a small smile. mj snickers, wheeling back to her own computer. “those are words of the innocent.” she’s already tapping her fingers across the keyboard.

“i thought you weren’t doing the tiktok piece,” you say under your breath. you’re slightly pissed mj turned you down, since she’s the reason you know about betty’s meddling. “i’m not,” mj answers sharply. “i’m gonna email quentin and ask if we can change our topics. happy?” quentin beck is another editor in the building. he’s not bad, but he is intimidating. no one typically goes to him as their first option.

“i’m thrilled,” you confirm and grin at mj to emphasize it. “thanks for stepping up. you’re forgiven.” “i didn’t realize i had to be sorry,” mj notes, this time in a playful manor. she shakes her head as she begins writing. “you and your morals.”

what you value most in your career is honesty, under any circumstances. of course, the other daily bugle writers are the same. norman strictly prohibits clickbait and crazy headlines because that isn’t real news. you leave that to companies like buzzfeed. you’re honest in the sense that you say whatever has to be said, what everyone else is too afraid to. you’ll speak your truth no matter who tries to stop you.

it didn’t used to be that way. there’s some childhood trauma that remains deep in the back of your mind. you’ve left that behind you now, having over a decade to cope with it. hey, they say the past is in the past. what’s important is your takeaway, that you would never let yourself or anyone else be silenced from there on out. never again.

quentin ends up giving you the okay to write different stories. he lets you and mj choose choose your own because he’s got “better things to do” and you’re “big girls.” what a peach he is. mj goes with how capitalism is continuing to provoke global warming. she has something to say about every major world issue, and you admire the hell out of her for it.

you’re a bit stuck when it’s time to write your article. it’s terribly ironic because you pushed for this. you aren’t too worried, though. the city is crawling with material, so you’ll find what you’re looking for eventually. lucky for you, some much needed inspiration comes skipping out of the elevator.

“morning, peter,” you hear liz greet him at the front desk. she’s your floor’s receptionist. her wisdom and patience keep this place going. “hi, liz. how’s it going?” he asks. “things have been quiet... mostly. can i do anything for you?” liz peers up at him. peter sports a shy smile. “uh, yeah. mr. osborn wanted to see me?” “right. hang on.” she nods, dialing his office phone number.

it’s endearing how peter calls him mr. osborn, seeing as the rest of you go with norman. he’s probably the politest guy you’ve ever met.

grinning, liz puts down the phone. “you can go in whenever you’re ready. good luck!” peter laughs nervously and turns to leave. “thanks, you too.” his face falls when he realizes his mistake. “wait, i- i didn’t mean to say that. that was stupid. you’re not-“ “it’s fine, peter,” liz reassures him. his anxiety makes him trip over his words sometimes. that, and he’s a bit dorky in general. you find it rather adorable.

you also wonder what exactly he needs good luck for. he’s not even supposed to be working today, so your curiosity as to what’s going on has been piqued.

“um, i’m gonna go now. bye!” peter rushes off, his face tinted pink from the embarrassing encounter. you’re hoping he’ll stop and talk with you for a little while, but he heads straight to norman’s office. your whole body deflates at that. mj notices from her peripherals.

“what’s the matter? missing your hubby?” she coos, her words dripping in sarcasm. “no,” you lie. “i’m... i don’t know what to write about.” ok, there’s some truth. mj gives you a couple pats on the shoulder. “ask parker for help. you two work... well together. don’t you?” this must be the zillionth time you’ve heard that.

“we do,” you murmur and glance at norman’s closed door. peter is hidden behind it. “i just don’t wanna bug him. he has finals soon, and whatever norman is putting him up to. it’s my job, anyway.” mj pokes your arm. “those sound like excuses to me,” she concludes, still jabbing at you childishly. “you really just don’t wanna tell him you like-“

“can you keep it down?” you hiss, yanking your arm back. “he’s literally right over there.” peter stands up and shakes norman’s hand. you catch it through the blinds on his window. “y/n, you were drooling over his mere presence only minutes ago,” mj prefaces, a smile pulling at her lips. “you can handle three little words. i like you, that’s it. spit it out already.”

you’ll never admit this to mj, but she’s right. you lost your momentum after your first failed attempt to say the three little words. you’re still not sure what stopped you. you’d shared the details of that faithful night with her, and she’s been pushing you to try again since.

the door to norman’s office opens, and out walks peter. he’s beaming after their conversation, which seems like a good sign. harry passes peter on his way in to pay his dad a visit. he claps him on the shoulder, peter happily accepting before continuing his stride back into the main office. it takes a moment to register that he’s coming towards you.

you quickly set your focus back on your computer so he doesn’t think you’ve been watching him. even though, you definitely have.

“y/n!” peter calls your name. he’s on the opposite side of your table, in front of you. “peter!” you match his tone. “i was just dropping by. i thought i’d say hey while i’m here.” he’s still grinning. “what’re you doing?” he looks cute as ever in an oversized and cream colored sweater. his curls are slicked back with a tad too much product, cheeks rosy. you gaze up at him when he rests his arms on the table.

“pretending to be productive,” mj answers for you, pressing her lips together. peter cocks his head to the side. “pretending?” “ignore her. she’s being a shit stirrer today,” you explain. “like every other day,” he jokes, earning a laugh from you. mj just tuts and keeps writing. “talk about me like i’m not here,” she mumbles to herself, then gets back into her article.

“anyways, i thought you didn’t work today?” you ask to take the attention off yourself. also, because you’re curious. “oh! get this.” peter perks up even more, if that’s possible. he has energy like no other. “you know alex in broadcasting? betty’s camera guy?” “what about him?” you wonder. “he called in sick earlier this morning, with the flu or something.” he’s oddly excited to announce this. that prompts you to make a funny face.

biting back another smile, peter elaborates. “mr. osborn needed someone to fill in for him, so he picked me. i’ll be here all week.” it makes sense, since peter knows how to work a camera and does so wonderfully. you give him a celebratory push at his chest. “peter, that’s amazing! this is the perfect way to transition from pictures to film, right?” he’s nearing his finals at school, which consist of more movie-like projects. the news will be great practice.

then, he’s off to hollywood. you’ll put that out of your mind for now.

“exactly! i think it’ll be a good place to start. the pay isn’t bad either.” peter wiggles his eyebrows at you, you giggling once again. you do a lot of that when he’s around. that’s going to be more often now. “plus, i get to see you. everyone wins.” he squeezes your hand that was just on him. your heart begins to thump. “except alex,” you challenge, playing with his fingers. “but, for real. i’m happy you get to do this and that we’ll be spending more time together.”

“thanks, y/n/n. me too.” peter grins and leans over, taking a peek at your computer screen. there’s a blank word document on it. “you never told me what you’re up to,” he chuckles. “guess mj was right... nothing.” “i’m always right,” she chimes in from next to you. you look between the two of them with a scowl. “i haven’t found my story yet. i don’t know, this never happens.” peter nods as you share your dilemma. “no good ideas are coming to me,” you murmur.

“they will. you have a way of attracting things.” he licks his lower lip, your heart completely stopping this time. “well, i gotta go set up for rise and shine with betty brant.” he waves his hand like he’s presenting his words. that’s what betty calls her morning news segment. “be careful with her. she’s being really sketchy these days,” you warn peter, mj grunting in agreement.

confused, peter purses his lips. “really? ned says she’s a sweetheart. they’ve been going out for a while.” mj pops her head up and adjusts her glasses. “did ned also tell you she’s bribing him to give her all of our scoops?” she’s asking rhetorically because she already knows the answer. of course he didn’t. “it’s one thing to not like her. you’re just making things up now,” peter huffs.

mj kicks your foot under the table. “i told you no one would believe us. not even peter gullible parker.” “it’s benjamin,” he corrects her. “whatever,” she brushes it off, resuming her work.

peter does tend to be sort of naive, to only see the good in things when there’s plenty of bad. you’re the same in that way, unless you hang around mj for too long.

“is that true? betty’s stealing your stories?” peter turns to you and asks. you gesture to your screen. “i don’t have one, so you do the math.” he hums sympathetically. he’ll listen to you, never mj. “i’m sorry. thanks for telling me, y/n. i’ll watch out for her.” he bends his fingers to look like goggles, putting them around his eyes. you sigh lightheartedly.

“are you twenty two years old or twelve?” mj remarks, but not without a comeback from peter. “you’re, like, eighty five. worry about that.” they’ve had this type of banter for as long as you’ve known them. it’s equal parts amusing and exhausting. “don’t be late on your first day.” you snap peter out of it with a knowing smile. he returns it.

“i hope something crazy happens so you can write about it.” he’s walking backwards now, towards the elevator. “see you later, pete,” is all you say back, yet another laugh threatening to escape you. “see you. bye, michelle,” peter says just to bug her. “it’s mj,” she groans without looking up. he shrugs. “not so fun, is it?”

after peter is gone, you try to get back into work. or rather, you try to start your work. what he said about you having a way of attracting things keeps ringing in your head. was he flirting? no, he couldn’t have been. peter parker doesn’t flirt. words aren’t his strong suit, and you have countless memories that prove this to be true. earlier with liz, for example.

you’re probably reading way into this. peter was simply doing what any good friend would do and gave you advice.

it’s late in the afternoon when anything worth mentioning happens again. peter is still with betty, as far as you know. they’re probably preparing for the nighttime news now. all you’ve done since seeing him is nibble on snacks and bug mj, who’s almost done with her story despite your distractions. this is really bad, considering your deadline to submit is at the end of today.

you’ve never missed a deadline.

mj emails her work to quentin while you repeatedly bang your head on the table. she hits send before deciding to entertain you. “whatcha doing over there?” she cautiously prompts, powering off her computer. “trying to get an idea. i’m desperate, if you couldn’t tell.” your voice is muffled. “i could.” mj grabs your shoulders and pulls you back so you’re sitting up. you childishly pout.

“y/n, the only thing that’s gonna give you is brain damage,” mj says sternly, then softens her tone. “why don’t you ask for an extension? norman gives me them all the time.” whining, you slump down in your chair again. “yeah, but you’re you! we do things differently, have different expectations put on us.” she’s back to cold mj after you say that. “alright. at least i did something today besides pine over that little-“

mj’s insult for peter is interrupted by harry. “ladies, what’s shaking?” he comes up to you two with a the hint of smirk on his face. you manage a nod to acknowledge him. “oh, hey... harry,” mj unenthusiastically replies. she’s the one person who isn’t really a fan of him. “not much. y/n was just having a tantrum.” “she was not,” you dismiss her. “it’s work stuff. you know your dad.”

harry clicks his tongue in a teasing way. “yep, the grind never stops in this joint. boss man is...” he does the sign for cuckoo with his finger. you laugh a little at that. “in a good way,” you add on. mj only watches you two, blinking blankly. harry gives you a definitive pat on the back. “before i forget, he wants to see you.” that gets mj talking. “norman?” she questions. “your dad?” you choke out at the same time.

“who else? he said you two have to talk.” harry flashes you a weary smile. “have fun in there, old sport.” you’re too busy biting the skin off your bottom lip to respond. “mhm... she will,” mj speaks on your behalf. even she sounds worried. saluting you both, harry leaves to go pester your other colleagues. you’re completely and totally fucked.

“that’s it for me!” you grin sarcastically, freaked out by harry. “i’m fired, aren’t i? i’m definitely about to get fired, and it’s all because-“ “relax!” mj cuts off your rambling. she reaches down and grasps at your wrists. “get it together, y/l/n. you’re the best we have, okay? you aren’t going anywhere.” your grin becomes a frown. “then why does norman wanna talk to me? and, why don’t i have a story?”

mj always has the answers, but this time is the execption. she lets out a breath. “i don’t know. you’ll go find out and tell me what happens.” there’s no use protesting. you’re going to have to face whatever you’re about to at some point. “ok,” you give in, defeated. “i’ll be back soon, i hope.”

the walk to norman’s office feels like a walk of shame. mj can do nothing but sit back and observe it. if this ends the way you think it will, you’ll be collecting your things and won’t ever return. norman is a kind man, and he’s usually pretty understanding. he doesn’t mind the workplace shenanigans as long as you get your job done. unfortunately, you haven’t today.

you hear your boss’s booming voice when you approach his door. inhaling deep, you knock on it, and the room goes silent. “come in,” norman responds after a few seconds. mustering up a smile, you open the door to be met with your doom. “hi, am i interrupting something?” you check. “not at all! you’re just the person i wanted to see. sit, sit,” he beckons you over. he’s not using his angry voice, so maybe you’re in the clear. you enter the room as told.

you’re shocked to see a terrified peter is already in one of the chairs. he visibly relaxes a bit now that you’re here. what the hell is happening? whatever you were expecting, this was the last thing.

taking the armchair next to peter, you sit facing norman’s desk. you nudge his arm to get his attention. his big brown eyes lock with yours. “what’s going on?” you whisper. “no idea,” peter whispers back. the two of you turn to norman again when he claps his hands. he’s plopped down into his cushy leather seat.

“so,” he begins, gaze flicking from peter to you. “you kids know why you’re here?” “is it because i missed my deadline?” you blurt out. you’re once again a nervous wreck. peter doesn’t speak, just winces. “not that. although, i did hear from ned that you turned down his assignment.” norman flicks at a post-it on his desk. “i asked quentin for one instead. me and mj,” you explain, peter’s eyes going wide.

“you talked to quentin? that guy’s bad news,” he murmurs to you. “how so?” norman questions, since it’s his employee. “he- he, um,” peter clears his throat before answering, “he’s super critical, you know? hates all my pictures.” “i love your pictures,” you assure him, the corners of his lips turning up. “your style is so cool. yeah, though. quentin’s pretty bitter.”

considering this, norman drums his fingers on the desk. “i’ll look into that. but, that isn’t why you’re here. i’m letting you off the hook this time.” your whole demeanor changes and a huge weight lifts off of you. “really? you are?” “i have a scoop of my own that i want you to cover,” he continues, peter bumping your knee happily. a toothy grin takes over your face.

“since peter will be sticking around for a while, i want him to join you.” norman waits a beat in case you have any questions. it’s been a minute since you last worked together. peter laughs in disbelief. “you want me to take over for alex and do this?” norman nods proudly. “y/n will need the extra hands, if you have them.” “yes, sir. i do,” peter immediately confirms. “my last class is next thursday, so i have the time.”

“wait, so you’re almost done? that’s awesome!” you bump peter’s knee this time. “yup, all that’s left is finals... and studying.” he mindlessly takes your hand, lacing your fingers together. you’re enjoying his gentle touches. “thank you so much, norman. seriously, i appreciate this a lot,” you tell him and mean it. “hey, no problem,” he chuckles at your eagerness. you grip peter’s hand tighter.

“what’s the story?” “ah, yes. the most important part,” norman starts, peter sharing an excited look with you. “how familiar are you two with spider-man?” his excitement fades at the question posed. it’s unbeknownst to you, caught up in the moment. “uh, same as everyone else, i guess,” you casually reply. “how come?” “he’s your subject.” norman points at you both. “you’re gonna study him over these next few months.”

peter’s hand goes limp in yours, and he gulps hard, throat feeling dry. “you mean, like, an exposé?” “no, no. there will be no exposing,” norman clarifies. “i’m sure he wears the mask for a reason.” that settles peter only slightly. you’re not sure why he’s so tense all of a sudden. “what’s our aim here, then?” you steer the conversation.

“see what new york’s favorite hero gets up to every day, how his life is beyond the crime fighting,” norman further describes your task. peter exhales a shaky breath, shifting away from you in his seat. the golden sun hits his face and reveals a bead of sweat dripping down it. you stare at his figure in worry. “you okay, peter?” “fine. i’m just... hot,” he murmurs back. his sweater does look pretty heavy, so you concede.

getting back to norman’s story, you grimace at the idea. “do you really think people will want to read that? for lack of a better term, it sounds kind of...” you pause. “basic.” “i thought the same thing at first,” he surprisingly agrees with you. “harry pitched the idea to me this morning. you won’t believe it! the other night, he caught spider-man hanging outside his window.”

“harry... harry saw him?” peter squeaks out. he uses the wool material that feels like it’s swallowing him to dab at his forehead. “he stopped on his balcony. must have been pretty late, the kid’s a night owl,” norman says about his son. your face lights up as you listen to him. “he took some shots of spidey in action, when he swung off. i saw a few. they were pretty great.” he’s grinning at his son’s success.

“maybe he’ll get into photography with you, pete,” norman suggests. peter gives him a weak smile in return. “we’d be happy to have him.” he usually has a lot more to say about his career than that. his behavior is starting to genuinely concern you. “anyway,” norman gets back on topic, “it got me thinking. how much do we really know about this guy? we’re supposed to blindly put our trust in him?”

you’re beginning to see the appeal now. you’ve written your share of pieces on the avengers and their methods, tackling the same questions norman just asked you. spider-man shouldn’t be overlooked, especially when he operates so close to your home. this could be another revolutionary superhero story in the making. and, you get to bring peter along for the ride.

“you know what? this has a lot of potential,” you smile at norman, then peter. he has his phone in his lap, fingers flying across the screen. it must be something important. you’ll discuss with norman while he takes care of that. “we could make it a weekly thing, about spider-man’s adventures. find out what we can about the man behind the mask...” peter shoots up in his seat. “without taking it off,” you finish, putting his mind at ease.

“see, i knew you were gonna love it! it was a blessing in disguise, you missing that deadline.” norman bangs his fist on the table with a hearty laugh. “what do you say, peter? you still in?” peter slips his phone back in his pocket. his tongue pokes out to wet his lips. “oh, of course. i can’t wait to work with you, y/n/n,” he speaks in a monotone voice, adding on, “again.”

something is definitely bothering him, and it isn’t the weather.

“i gotta go. betty needs me upstairs, so,” peter moves to get up, his body stiff. you assume that’s who he was texting. “thank you again, mr. osborn.” he’s rushing out of the room just like that, until you call after him. “um, don’t you wanna set a time to meet up? so we can get started?” you reasonably ask. “i... i really gotta go. find me later,” peter tells you, giving you both a tight lipped smile and running off.

“the dynamic duo is back!” norman announces to you. you’re disappointed you can’t share that sentiment with peter.

he’s absolutely booking it down the stairs, not bothering to wait for the next elevator. this is bad. this is a nightmare.

peter went from having one of his best days in a while to the worst in not even a full round of work. today started off fine, and got better when norman promoted him. it got way better when you came along. he saw your smile that makes his insides tingle, heard your laugh that’s the prettiest sound to grace his ears, held your hand that he never wants let go.

things went a bit downhill after that. betty was pushy and yelled at him a lot, demanding he only film her good angles for the segment. you and mj weren’t wrong when you told him to be careful.

later on when he saw you again, everything was okay. he was physically shaking as brad told him mr. osborn requested to see him. brad is mr. osborn’s assistant. a try-hard for sure, but good at his job. why did mr. osborn call him in? did betty complain already?

they’d been sitting in mostly silence, save for small talk until you came knocking on the door. simply being next to you was enough to ground peter and his racing thoughts. it was enough, then it wasn’t.

the whole day had gone to shit after he found out you were going to be writing stories about his alter ego. not only that, but he was helping. during the pitch, he’d texted ned to meet him in the bathroom. he was really anxious and needed a friend who understood why.

ned accidentally found out peter is spider-man last year. it’s a long story that involves peter hiding from some bad guys in the building and ned shrieking so loud the lights flickered. they’re cool now that peter talked things through with him. his secret has been kept, from what he knows.

pushing open the men’s bathroom door, peter is a mixture of sweat and ragged breaths. he’s panting from his fast descent down the staircase. he takes in his disheveled appearance using one of the mirrors. his styled hair is now damp and undone, hands trembling and palms sweaty, chest heaving. here’s his daily reminder that anxiety is not cute. as if he didn’t know.

his stupid, gigantic freaking sweater is only making things worse. it’s suffocating him. no one else is in here, so peter pulls it over his head and tosses it to the ground. he’s got a t-shirt on underneath that happens to be black. what a convenient day for him to wear the hottest material there is.

peter splashes his face with some cold water next to try and cool himself down. that doesn’t do much for him. his face still feels like it’s on fire, but now it’s wet. he takes his hands through his mop of curls, backing away from the sink.

“fuck. fuck, fuck, fuck,” peter repeats to himself. he’s silent for a moment, then rage overcomes him. he kicks open a bathroom stall. “shit! i can’t do this. what am i supposed to-“

the door creeks open, so peter shuts up in case it isn’t ned. it thankfully is, and he wears a deep frown at the sight of his best friend. “dude, what happened? you look...” “terrible. i know,” peter finishes for him. he tugs at his locks in another attempt to tame them. ned approaches him carefully. “you’re not, like, dying... are you? because betty was telling me you have to-“ “of course you were with betty,” peter exhales in frustration. “no, ned. i’m not dying.”

in ned’s defense, the text he received was very alarming. all peter wrote was, ‘EMERGENCY. SOS.’

“i mean, yeah. it was my break.” ned sits on the ledge by the window, close to peter. “you do the same with y/n.” the mention of your name upsets peter all over again. he hides his face in his hands as ned watches. “if you’re not dying, then what’s the problem?” ned finally asks. “me and y/n...” peter removes his hands from his face, meeting ned’s worried eyes. “mr. osborn wants us to do a project together.”

“uh, peter? you’ve been saying how much you miss her forever, dude! you’re not excited?” ned snorts at him. he means well, but he has no clue what he’s talking about. “no. it’s supposed to be about spider-man,” peter answers angrily. this isn’t the support he was hoping for. realizing the severity of the situation, ned gets serious.

“oh... but, you’re still doing it?” he questions. “i didn’t have a choice,” peter scoffs out. “i can’t let either of them down.” “you’ll expose yourself!” ned escalates things further. “it’s not like that. we’re gonna follow spider-man around and post updates on him,” peter says, technically in the third person. he’s given an are you insane? look from ned.

“you are spider-man! and, no offense, but you’re not so good at hiding it,” ned refers to himself finding out. “how are you gonna be in two places at once?” damnit, peter hadn’t thought about that yet. he can’t be taking pictures of spider-man and swinging from building to building simultaneously. “i- i’ll figure it out,” peter stammers, unconvincingly.

ned looks him over in a disapproving way. “jeez. you’re really putting your life on the line for this girl-“ “woman,” peter interjects, not loving ned’s attitude towards you. “have some respect.” unfazed, ned gets up from the windowsill. “speaking of women, remember betty? you’re still on the clock,” he changes the subject. peter nearly forgot he has to go film her segment.

“i’ll head up to her now,” peter gives in. he scoops up his discarded sweater, not bothering to check his appearance again. ned follows behind him to the door. “we wrote her script together, you know,” he gladly informs peter, who already knows from you. “not really a flex,” peter mumbles his response. “peter, lighten up.” ned hits at his shoulder. the two of them exit the bathroom.

“you’ll figure this out later. i can always help.” he shoots him a sugary sweet smile. “thanks, ned. for talking with me and everything.” peter doesn’t smile back. they do a quick bro handshake, then they’re going their separate ways. “have a good show, dude!” ned yells back, to which he doesn’t get a response. peter doesn’t have it in him.

he allows himself to take the elevator back up to broadcasting. he’s so drained from the several anxiety attacks he endured. while peter waists for the elevator, he contemplates all the issues he’d better solve. it’s a relief to hear it ding because it brings him back to earth. that doesn’t last long because both you and betty are there when the door opens.

you’d each had the same idea, to find peter. unlike betty, your intentions were good. you asked liz if she saw peter leave. she told you he went downstairs, so you did also. betty was already in the elevator when it got to your stop. she was looking for him because, you guessed it, he had to record the news. the small space was filled with tension as you and betty occupied it.

“perfect. we’re going right back up,” betty beams, motioning for peter with her index finger. “hop in!” “coming,” peter does as told, going to stand between you and betty. she presses the button for your floor and theirs. the doors close. “pete?” you speak up, voice soft. “you kinda ran off earlier. i thought you were with betty.” “clearly, he wasn’t,” betty sneers.

you’re less concerned with her and more with peter. the sweater he looked so huggable in is now folded in his arms, his face splotchy and jaw clenched. he must have gotten triggered by something back in norman’s office.

“are you sure you’re okay? you... you can talk to me about it.” you take a step closer to peter, your doe eyes searching for his. he meets them with a tiny smile. at least, it’s real this time. “i’ll be fine, y/n/n. ‘s nice that you came to check on me, though.” “don’t mention it.” your arms loop around his neck and bring him into a hug. peter hugs you back by your middle, chin resting on your shoulder, breathing out in relief.

you keep your hands on his shoulders when you pull back. his stay on your sides, a lopsided grin now crossing his features. “spider-man...” you quirk an eyebrow. “how are you feeling about that?” “should be cool,” peter somehow maintains himself. “i’m mostly looking forward to doing it with you.”

listening in, betty joins the conversation. “what’s happening with spider-man? anything i should know?” her hand reaches into her bag and emerges with a notepad. does she ever think of her own content? “she’s nothing if not persistent,” you grumble to peter. chuckling, he pulls you into his chest. if he didn’t hold you back, you would’ve pounced on her.

“we’re gonna do a piece on him,” peter tells her. “you can’t copy or steal this one because it’s already been approved,” you contribute, smiling smugly as peter holds you tighter. betty is taken aback. “are you accusing me of stealing? who said i-“ “ned ratted on you... sorry,” peter says in a sing song voice. squealing, you jump away from him. “he did? we were right?”

“mj’s never wrong,” he reiterates. “mj knew about this? oh my god, i can’t believe her!” betty stomps her foot. “we got you on candid camera.” you make a clicking noise with your mouth. peter mimes taking a picture to back you up. “alright, alright. i won’t do it again,” betty mumbles, turning away from you two in annoyance.

“finally!” you hold up your hand for a high five, which peter gives you. “we really do make the best team,” he hums. your fingers intertwine with peter’s, and he lays his palm flat against yours. he prays extremely hard you don’t notice that it’s sweaty. you do, but you couldn’t care less.

“i was wondering when you’d wanna start our... research?” peter asks you, his lip between his teeth. “you were saying something earlier. maybe we could make a schedule.” “how elaborate of us that would be,” you tease. that earns a breathy laugh from peter. with a knowing smile, you put your free hand back on his shoulder.

“what are you doing tonight?”

-

peter parker taglist

@saturnpeter @tpwk-grande @itstaskeen @missyouhollnd @becicamina @dummiesshort @zspideyy @watchitimreadinghere @my-patronus-is-mabel-pines @dpaccione @karispotters11 @theofficialzivadavid @thehumanistsdiary @kelieah @aayaissaa @petersgroupie @annab-nana @tayyx @swtltlmrvlgrl @magicalxdaydream @haoluvver @kjune113 @captainamirica @marvel-dork98 @emmastarz @killingbxys @viriditie @misshale21 @veryholland @liliswifts @tommydarlings @rebelemilu @peterspideysense @cr-uelsummer @dreamy-clousds @quaksonhehe @quxxnxfhxll @blackbat2020 @babyblue19 @falconxbarnes @zachary-s @dirtytissuebox @dracoswhore007 @heavenlyholland @thsquad @etheralholland @dhtomholland @awh-lilies @tomshufflepuff @multifamdomfan12

-

if i forgot you please lmk!

[fruitcoops]

Ok so what sbout remus/sirius being too sick to go to an away game so the other one has to go alone, and then tons of facetime conversations and "get well soon" videos from the team?

This is related to this fic about Remus and Finn bonding over terrible reporters--hope you enjoy! SW credit goes to @lumosinlove, and the Loops/ Talker bonding is for @lee-1012!

TW for illness

“You don’t look so good.” Remus frowned as he held the inside of his wrist against Sirius’ forehead. “And you definitely have a fever.”

“Non.” Sirius sat up on his elbows with a groan, then almost immediately flopped back down.

“Yes.” He leaned back on his heels and checked the clock—they had two hours before they had to be at the airport. “Baby, I don’t think you should—”

“ ‘m going.”

“It’s not a good—”

“Gotta go. Games.” Sirius cracked one glassy eye open. “Two weeks away. I’ll take the first couple days off.”

Remus sighed through his nose and brushed his sweaty hair out of his eyes. “You shouldn’t go on the plane if you’re sick. Not just for your sake, but for the rest of us. We don’t need everyone to come down with this.”

He received a halfhearted glare in response, but Sirius finally huffed and curled on his side to nuzzle against his thigh. “I’m gonna miss you.”

“I’ll miss you, too, baby,” Remus said quietly, bending to kiss his temple. They hadn’t been apart for that long since before he was a player, nearly a year prior. Hell, he had never played a game without Sirius, let alone two weeks’ worth. “Lily will check on you, okay?”

Sirius mumbled an incoherent response and cuddled closer when he began combing his fingers through his hair. The second alarm beeped, loud against the quiet of their bedroom; time to go, he thought ruefully. Sirius touched his knee as he started to stand. “Love you. Be safe.”

“Love you more.”

“Love you most.”

“Go back to sleep,” Remus said as his heart clenched. “I’ll let Coach know what happened, but you’ve got to rest and take care of yourself. Hydrate or die-drate, yeah?”

“Yeah. Love you.”

“Sleep,” he repeated, kissing his forehead once more before hauling himself out of bed and tucking the covers around Sirius’ shoulders. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

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

The clouds were a soft, pastel pink around them as the sun rose—Sirius’ favorite. If his phone was correct, Lily would be there soon to let Hattie out and make sure Sirius wasn’t pushing himself too hard. The thought brought Remus a bit of relief, but not enough to quell his concern.

Talker poked his forearm, snapping him from his reverie. “What’s going on?”

“Just worrying.”

“About Cap?”

Remus waved a hand vaguely. “And Hattie, and Lily, and whether he’s got a cold or something worse. Feels weird being here without him.”

Talker hummed his agreement and offered one of his earbuds. “Want to listen to half of Bohemian Rhapsody with me? It’ll give you five minutes and 55 seconds of relative peace.”

“It’s too quiet,” James groaned just before he pressed ‘play’.

Across the aisle, Remus saw Kasey roll his eyes. “Your husband is sick, dude, not dead. He doesn’t talk to you on planes anyway.”

“It’s the principle of the thing, Bliz.”

“Oh my god,” Kasey muttered under his breath, securing his headphones tightly over his ears.

James let his head flop to the side with a baleful look. “Loops, you’re on my side, right?”

“I’ve got you, buddy,” he assured him. Talker stifled a laugh, and the opening chords began as more clouds rolled past. Remus let himself drift with them, taking deep breaths to soothe his worries; Sirius would be fine. He had the sniffles, or at worst the flu, and he would be join them for the second week in top form. There was nothing to worry about.

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

“He’s got pneumonia,” Lily sighed.

“He what?”

“A mild case, but the doctor said it would take a week of antibiotics and rest before he’s close to a hundred percent. No hockey for about a month, too.”

Remus stared at the wall of his empty hotel room, lost for words. “Well, fuck.”

“Yeah.”

“Fuck.”

“Pretty m—absolutely not, go lay down.” There was a rustling noise and two grumbling voices. “Sorry about that.”

“Will you put me on speaker real quick?” Remus asked, pinching the bridge of his nose until he heard a faint click. “Sirius? You there?”

“Yes! I miss you, and I was just going to tell you that it’s really not that—”

“Please sit your ass down. Lily, if he tries to fuck around and find out exactly how nasty pneumonia is, you have full permission to sit on him. I miss you too, love,” he added after a short pause.

“He’s blowing you a kiss,” Lily informed him. “Oh, and he’s giving me the puppy eyes.”

“Resist if you can. Love you both. Give Hattie lots of cuddles from me.”

“We will,” she promised.

The second the call ended, Remus groaned aloud and thumped his head against the wall before padding down the hall. Just my fucking luck. The door swung open after the second knock; Arthur’s face fell. “How bad is it?”

“Mild pneumonia.”

“Fuck.”

“Yep. Doctor said he’d be out for a month.”

Arthur rubbed his eyes and nodded, motioning Remus back towards his own room. “Get some rest, then. I’ll let everyone know in the morning. Any idea how he got it?”

“Not a clue.”

“Thanks for the update, Loops. Sleep tight.”

“I will,” Remus lied as he headed back for a sleepless night between cold sheets.

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

Lily sent updates every few hours; most reported that Sirius was sleeping well and looking better with each passing day, but Remus couldn’t help but feel overwhelmingly guilty. If something happened while he was hundreds of miles away, he would never forgive himself. He had sworn in front of their closest friends and family to be there in sickness and in health—what kind of husband ditches their partner for one of a million roadies?

This one. He stabbed a piece of broccoli and shoved it in his mouth. And then he goes and makes an idiot of himself for the world to see.

The interview was supposed to be easy, but he couldn’t let it roll off anymore. Not when he couldn’t answer their questions even when he wanted to, not when he was states away from the love of his life while he was sick, not when he felt helpless and shoved aside in every current aspect of his life.

“So.” The chair next to him creaked as Talker planted his full weight in it and set his plate decisively on the table.

“What.”

“Oh, pissy Loops. Haven’t seen you in a while. Talked to Cap yet?”

“Yeah.” Another piece of broccoli fell victim to his frustration.

“How’s he sound?”

“Better.”

“Sweet.” Talker continued to munch away on his dinner. “Anyone ever told you that you have the general disposition of a wet cat when you’re upset?”

Remus tried and failed to keep down a smile. “I seem to recall you bringing it up on occasion, yes.”

His dark eyes softened and he bumped their elbows together. “He’ll be okay.”

“I know.”

“Really, Loops. Cap’s going to be just fine. Lily doesn’t sugar-coat this kind of stuff, and he’s a tough guy. Mild pneumonia doesn’t stand a chance. Besides, we’ve only got four days left and we need you to kick some ass out there.”

If Remus was a little more emotionally vulnerable, he would’ve burst into tears. Instead, he settled for leaning his temple against Talker’s with a quiet ‘thanks’ and allowed himself to be pulled into a side hug. Across the dining hall, Finn shot him a thumbs-up and a wink. “Love you, man.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Talker teased. “The internet is already coming to your aid, you know.”

“About…?”

“Not only have those asshole reporters become a new meme, you’ve also got a shit ton of people bringing up past mistreatment of athletes in the press room. You’re the face of a revolution, Loops.”

“I’ve been the face of too many revolutions for one person,” he groused, not even bothering to duck out of the way when Talker ruffled his hair.

“Well, one more won’t kill you.”

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

Remus’ heart raced as he stepped off the plane. The logical part of him knew that Sirius would be waiting outside the security gate, but everything else screamed to see him now, now, right now so he could be sure he was alright. At least he had sounded healthier on the phone the night before—Remus wasn’t sure what he would do otherwise.

“Deep breaths,” James reminded him as they walked toward the baggage claim. “I’m sure he’s—”

An excited shout broke through the thick crowds. Remus’ heart skipped a beat, and then he was running, racing through the people that parted for him as his vision tunneled. His carry-on hit the ground with a low thud that he hardly heard as Sirius lifted him straight off the ground and held him tight.

“I love you,” Remus said immediately, locking his ankles around Sirius’ lower back and squeezing his eyes shut. “Are you okay?”

In lieu of a response, Sirius pulled back and kissed him, cradling one side of his face in his warm, warm hand. Two weeks may as well have been an eternity. He broke away after a moment, searching his face for any signs of illness or pain. “I’m fine,” Sirius said softly, as if he could read his mind. “I promise. A little tired and sore, but there’s no lasting damage.”

“Don’t do that again,” Remus said into the side of his neck as he hugged him close. He smelled like home. “Not when I have to leave.”

Sirius’ arms were steady around his back. “I won’t.”

“I’m going to grill you on everything as soon as we get home.”

“I know.”

“But right now, I’m just going to hug you because I missed you and I worried myself into a hole, like, every night.”

He could feel Sirius’ smile against his shoulder. “I know.”

[silky-stories]

Whitty having a nightmare about accidentally killing his s/o and reader comforting him with cuddles? 👀

Sure thing! Sorry for the wait by the way, the ask ended up glitching and disappeared for the longest time ^^;;

Hope this turned out alright!

———————————————————————

Too Dangerous {Whitty/Reader}

Genre: Angst, hurt/comfort, fluff

Words: 1788

Related Song: sagun - I’ll Keep You Safe (feat. Shiloh) https://youtu.be/7ly7Mhle-4M

Summary: Whitty is scared of losing control and hurting his partner, thankfully his partner is a magician and knows how to make all of his worries disappear.

Disclaimer/s: Death, blood, small description of dead body, a bit of swearing, crying and panic attacks

Notes: (Please read) The start is pretty graphic and may be hard to read for some people, so there’s a double line down further that you can scroll to if you want to skip that part. It gets happy though, don’t worry :)! Also Whitty’s dialogue is in orange, Y/n’s is in blue!

———————————————————————

Numb.

That’s how he always felt after this happened.

After he lost his cool.

After he lost himself.

After his body gave in and combusted into the hot red plumes of rage, engulfing and ripping his body apart in one swift action.

...

After he exploded.

It never took long for his body to piece itself back together, for his pieces to come back and connect and rejoin one another, allowing his mind and consciousness to slowly but surely become clearer.

It was like puzzle pieces, all eventually finding their place as the picture that was his senses to come together, becoming complete once more.

None of this was new to him, he had experienced it many times before.

Only... something was wrong this time.

His vision was still very blurry, but he could make out a few colours, red being the most prominent.

He had never felt especially impatient to regain his senses, but the further along his accelerated recovery was, the more his half healed subconscious screamed that something bad had happened.

It wasn’t until he regained his sense of smell back that he started panicking.

The thick smell of copper and rust that cut through the air quickly invaded his lungs, violating his airways with the essence of metal and death.

Maybe it was the familiarity that scared him the most but...

He knew the smell of blood all too well.

The red he saw was immediately more violent and harsh than it seemed to be before, he stumbled closer to the scene with eyes only partially focused.

His legs still lacked most of the feeling in them, but he managed.

He needed to see what it was, he needed to know who it was. The speed that his blood rushed through his body only sped up his recovery as the picture finally came together.

...

He couldn’t keep his footing as he finally made out what laid before him.

You.

Your bleeding, broken form laid still on the concrete.

He couldn’t move.

Couldn’t think.

Couldn’t breathe.

...

He was trying to breathe.

Why couldn’t he breathe?

...

Suddenly everything hurt. His head hurt. His eyes hurt. His hands hurt. His body screamed in agony and grief at the loss of one of the few people that cared. One of the few that loved him.

What could he do now though?

You were dead.

He had killed you.

It was his fault.

It was all his fault.

It was all his fault.

It was all his fault.

It was all his fault.

It was-

———————————————————————

———————————————————————

Whitty’s eyes snapped open as he hastily sucked in a gasp of air.

He laid there, motionless, greedily filling his lungs with the oxygen that his unconscious mind believed so strongly that he had been deprived of.

He could hear how shaky his breaths were despite the numbness, he was practically hyperventilating as he gave the ceiling a wide-eyed stare.

His form felt frozen in place as images from his dream flashed in front of his open eyes like a movie.

His stillness was disturbed only when you shifted beside him, he flinched, quite violently actually, as your head bumped into his arm.

The groan and words that came from you were his first indication that he shouldn’t have done that.

You were up.

Shit.

“Whitty..? Are you... mmph, are you alright?” You yawned as you propped yourself up in bed beside him, taking a moment to rub the sleep out of your eyes so you could look at him.

When you opened your eyes you saw that he had flinched back from laying down into a sitting up position. He was staring down at you, being the skyscraper that he was. Although there was only one thing that stood out to you, sobering you up from your sleep-drunk state.

“Y... y-yeah sorry I uh... didn’t mean to wake you u-”

“Wait, why are you crying?”

He paused, only now noticing the dark and warm trails that trickled down his face. He was quick to look away to try to wipe them out of existence, the concern on your face had only deepened when he looked back.

“It’s really nothing you... you don’t... don’t have to worry... about me... s-sorry I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

He was a mess and couldn’t piece together a sentence to save his life at the moment but he hoped it would be at least slightly convincing.

He really shouldn’t have thought that.

You very clearly weren’t convinced as you gingerly took hold of his upper arms and guided him to you, leaning back and wrapping his arms around your body as you followed suit with your arms around him.

He wanted to protest, he wanted to further reassure you that he was fine and let you go back to sleep so you didn’t have to deal with his emotional baggage at three in the morning. When he looked up at your patient but distressed expression though, made contact with those eyes that told him that he wouldn’t be judged for whatever it was that had upset him... he just couldn’t hold it in.

It started with tears silently starting to flow again as he pressed his face into your abdomen to hide them, his body starting to tremble in your embrace. It didn’t take very long for him to break into choked sobs, gripping at the t-shirt you had worn to bed like it was his last lifeline.

“Oh Whitty... I’m here, everything’s alright...”

You had no idea what it was that had upset him yet, but the need to console him was intense and immediate. Your hands moved to the positions that had worked before, one on the back of his head and one on his back. Small circular motions were what you started with on his back, gently caressing his head with your other hand as you allowed him the time he needed to vent out his emotions.

This went on for around ten minutes. You didn’t really care, you weren’t watching the clock.

He had stopped crying within the first five, but it took another five minutes to regulate his breathing. Now he was breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth, the way you had showed him to before when he needed help to calm down.

You continued to console him through actions, waiting to see if he would initiate the conversation you knew he was ready for now.

He turned his head to the side while still keeping his grip on your torso, he looked exhausted.

“...Y/n?”

You were glad you waited.

“Yes?”

“Do you ever think that I’m...”

You didn’t try to push him to finish his sentence, you knew he just needed a moment to get his words straight.

“...too dangerous to be around?”

You didn’t want to ask, you really didn’t, but you needed the context if you wanted to help him feel better.

“In what way?”

His expression soured as he glared at nothing from across the room.

“There’s a reason why there’s people after me, Y/n...”

Oh.

Oh.

He meant himself being who he was that dangerous.

Well that just wouldn’t do.

“Oh Whitty, why would I think that?”

“Because I fucking am!”

His sudden outburst didn’t frighten you, you had gotten used to them a long time ago.

“I’m unpredictable and can’t control myself sometimes! What will happen if you’re around me when I lose control? Human bodies can’t piece themselves back together Y/n!”

You kept silent as you took in everything he said, committing it all to memory since you knew that these were valid concerns and he needed to lay them all out if he wanted to address them.

“I love you... so damn much... but I’d rather be on the other side of the world if I knew that it would protect you from me!”

He moved to look up at you, the fear in his eyes was heartbreaking.

“I couldn’t... I couldn’t live with myself if I knew that it was me that... that killed you...”

There it was, the heavy statement that served as a queue for you to speak, you could see the anticipation in his eyes. It was peculiar actually, the look he held, it was like he was expecting you to agree with everything he just said and run or something...

You tightened your embrace around him to stamp that thought out of existence.

“You don’t give yourself enough credit, you know?”

“I... huh?”

“I’ve seen the amount of times that you’ve been close to losing it, I know how hard it can be to stay in control.”

He couldn’t hold contact with your eyes, the amount of pure love and care for him was overwhelming after all the fear and desperation that he had just given in return.

“But I’ve also seen how much better you’ve gotten at keeping control.”

That was a surprise to him, but you knew that he would know what you were talking about if you gave some examples.

“Remember the guy in the grocery store? You looked like you wanted to rip his head off, and I didn’t blame you.”

You chuckled at the memory of the guy that decided to try to argue why the two of you shouldn’t be together since you were human and he wasn’t. The man was frustrating and made no sense at all, but Whitty’s fuse didn’t even spark, he didn’t lose himself to anger. He gave the guy the sharpest glare he’s ever done, told him to ind his own damn business, and then lightly took your hand and continued on.

His show of restraint was impressive to say the very least.

“You’ve been getting really good with controlling yourself, and we’re still working on it too. I’m not scared of you and definitely don’t plan on going to the other side of the world.”

Your grin was infectious, he hated and loved how infectious your grin was as he tried to stifle the small smile working it’s way up onto his face.

“I’m so proud of how hard you’ve been trying to keep control of yourself, and I’ll be here with you every step of the way.”

He... he let himself smile after that.

“I don’t deserve you...”

“And you’re clearly overtired since you’re just saying nonsense now.”

He chuckled, it was hoarse and faint but it was a wonderful sound.

“Really though, let’s try and get you back to sleep, okay?”

He pushed himself up further on the bed and carefully intertwined his body with yours, breathing out a sigh as he buried his face in your hair.

“I love you...”

“I love you too.”

[blu-joons]

When You Struggle To Write Your Essay ~ Seventeen Reaction

S.Coups:

You could feel Seungcheol’s presence beside you as you typed away at your computer, glancing across at him, noticing the warm smile that he wore. “I just watched you switch tabs, you’re terrible at playing this game.”

“The essay is stupid,” you stated, slamming your hands on the desk, “Instagram is much better.”

“It’s also an unproductive way to spend your time,” he reminded you, lifting you out of the chair so that you could sit in his lap. “You’ve worked so hard on this essay, don’t let a bump in the road put you off now.”

You sighed back at him, “first of all, Instagram is a very productive way to spend my time and see what everyone else is up to. Secondly, I’ve spent well over an hour on this essay and haven’t got a damn word to show for it.”

“Like I said, you’ve just hit a bump,” Seungcheol tried to assure you, “but you can’t be so hard on yourself about it. Why don’t you take a break for a while, a proper break, at least get away from your computer?”

“Do you really think that’ll make life easier?” You questioned, smiling as he nodded back at you.

His arms tightened around your waist, “let’s do something to distract your mind, whatever you want to do. I’m sure when you come back to your work, you’ll find your flow once again.”

“Although I’ve just spent an hour on social media, I deserve a break, right?”

Jeonghan:

A gasp escaped from you as Jeonghan pulled away just as you leaned forwards to press a kiss against his lips. “I told you, no kiss until you get that section of your essay complete,” he teased, moving back away from you.

“Do you really want to play this game with me?” You sighed, sinking down in your chair.

“I told you how this was going to work, you can’t try and cheat your way out of doing your work by trying to kiss me when I’m not paying attention,” Jeonghan reminded you, taking a seat opposite your desk.

Your eyes stared helplessly back across at him, “why are you doing this to me? I thought it was just going to be a joke, I didn’t think you’d actually stop kissing me. How am I supposed to work without a kiss from you?”

“That’s for you to figure out,” he continued to joke, “I know that you can get this done, you’re just beating yourself up about it right now. The section is nearly complete, and then I promise that I am all yours.”

“Are you going to sit there and tease me whilst I write?” You asked, unsurprised to see his head nod.

He settled himself back against the desk chair, “I’m not going to tease, I’m just going to sit here and remind you of the reward that you’ll get once you finally get that part of the essay done.”

“That’s definitely teasing Jeonghan, no way is it a reward.”

Joshua:

The smell of food caught your attention before Joshua even managed to walk into your apartment. “Don’t be getting any ideas,” he warned you, “this is for you only if you’ve finished writing that paragraph, I left you on.”

“It’s all written, I promise, you can come and see for yourself,” you spoke, pointing it out to him.

“See, I told you that you’d be able to do it,” he proudly smiled, relieved to see you’d finally completed the paragraph you’d been stuck on for most of the afternoon. “It’s a good job I went out and got your favourite too.”

Your eyes lit up, silently cursing at yourself for not recognising the smell of the food straight away. “You’re the best, thank you so much. Let me just save what I’ve done and then I’ll be through to join you for dinner.”

“I wouldn’t move too quickly,” Joshua called out to you, “I went out and got dessert too, but you can only have that if you write another paragraph. And don’t even try and argue with me because I know you’re capable.”

“Are you really using food as a weapon to try and bribe me right now?” You asked of him.

With a smug smile, his head nodded back at you, “it’s working, isn’t it? I know the way to your heart, and it’s by nothing else but food, that’s how you’re going to get this essay done.”

“As bad as it is, I definitely think your right on that one.”

Jun:

When Junhui first began to ask you questions about your essay, you failed to understand what the point was, until slowly answers started to come together. “Write that down, you can use it in section three, can’t you?”

“I think so,” you hummed, writing it down anyway, noticing how big your document was getting.

“What else is there that you need to talk about?” He asked, peering over your shoulder to have a look at the essay brief. “It looks like we’ve managed to get quite a few ideas down for you to write there my love.”

Your head shook at how much was written, “I don’t know who taught you such an incredible skill but thank you for helping me to write almost my entire essay. I really have no idea what I’d do without you Jun.”

“It’s all on you, all I did was ask the questions, and you gave me the answers,” he reminded you, sitting back down on the bed behind you. “Do you want me to stick around whilst you write that into something resembling an essay.”

“It’s up to you, but don’t feel like you have to, you’ve done enough for me,” you assured him.

He shrugged back at you, making himself comfortable. “It’s not like I’ve got anything better to do. I could read over it too if you want when it’s done, make sure that it all makes sense?”

“That would be amazing, you really are the best Junhui.”

Hoshi:

Your smile grew as Soonyoung walked over to you, taking a seat at your desk, staring back at you. “I promise I’m not going to do anything; I’m just going to sit here as moral support whilst you carry on with your writing.”

“Do you know how distracting it is just to have your face there?” You laughed, gently pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose.

“Well, when you hit a brick wall or you’re struggling to think about what to write next, you can just look over at me and I can be your inspiration to try and figure out what it is that you want to write,” he assured you.

Your head shook back at him, “I don’t want to look back at my laptop now I get to look at you. I need to find a lot of inspiration for now, so I might just have to stare at you for a little while, as long as you don’t mind?”

“If it helps with your work, then there’s no complaints from me,” Soonyoung chuckled, resting his head into his hand. “Just don’t stare too long, because you might get lost in my eyes or something and forget about your work.”

“That doesn’t sound like such a bad idea,” you teased, moving a little closer towards him.

Soonyoung quickly moved you back, keeping a distance between the two of you. “You’ve got work to do, don’t be getting any ideas. You can have plenty of what you want when your work is done.”

“You’re a horrendous tease, I can’t believe you’d do that to me.”

Wonwoo:

The moment Wonwoo suggested giving you a helping hand with your essay, you knew it was going to do anything but help you out with your essay. “What even is this thing on? Surely even I can understand what it means.”

“It looks at patterns of migration in variations of native African animals,” you informed him, noticing how quickly his expression dropped.

“Alright, well, with a bit of research I’m sure I can contribute something,” he muttered underneath his breath, quickly doubting how effective his plan seemed to initially be. “Do you have a book or something on it?”

Your head shook, tapping the top of your head. “All the information is stored up here for me to remember, but because you said you’d be such a big help, I’m sure you don’t need a book to research anything, right?”

“Okay, so maybe I underestimated just how difficult your essay would be,” he admitted, sighing across at you, “I know it’s difficult, but you’ve just got to stick at it, I won’t have you give up on all of this now.”

“You’re meant to be the smart one between the two of us, and even you’re confused,” you sighed.

Wonwoo’s head shook, pressing a kiss against the top of your own. “You’re definitely the smart one, there’s no way I could ever do the work that your doing, it’s incredible, really.”

“The offer is still there if you want to write it for me.”

Woozi:

He failed to remember the last time he’d seen you move as he came out from his studio and noticed you still sat in front of your laptop. “Y/N?” He called out, only to be met by silence, walking across to you.

“Sorry,” you muttered as his hand waved in front of your face to try and wake you up. “When did you get out of the studio?”

“I don’t think that matters right now, what matters is waking you up a bit, you’re driving yourself crazy with this essay,” he frowned, pulling your chair away from your desk to give you a bit of room to stretch out.

Your head shook, reaching out to pull yourself back, only for Jihoon to get in the way. “I know that you care Jihoon, but I was only daydreaming for five minutes, we’ve both got work to do, so let’s get on with it, shall we?”

“If you think I’m going to let you go back to doing some work in your current state then you are very much mistaken Y/N.” He established continuing to stare down at you, “I can tell you’ve been daydreaming for a lot longer too.”

“Alright, so maybe I was out of it for a while, but that’s time I need to make up for,” you groaned.

Jihoon continued to shake his head back at you, “when I told you I wasn’t moving, I meant it. For once, I’m not messing around, I’m going to make sure that you look after yourself.”

“I’m too tired to even bother arguing anymore with you.”

DK:

As yet another yawn left you, it was the final straw for Seokmin, walking around to your desk and standing in between you and your laptop. “You’ve got two choices, nap with me, or go and have a nap by yourself.”

“Can’t I just decline both of them?” You questioned, trying to peer around his waist so that you could look back at your essay.

“I’m not budging, and these hips are wide,” he smiled, stepping each time you moved. “Y/N, you’re exhausted, and don’t even try to deny it. At least close your eyes for half an hour and then come back to your work.”

Your head tried to shake, but as it did, another yawn escaped, rendering your argument pointless. “I can sleep for days once this essay is submitted Min, but until then, a trip to bed will just have to wait for me.”

“You’re not going to win,” he joked, staring down at you in front of him. “We can either do this the easy way or the hard way, and I’m happy to do either. So, I’ll leave it up to you to decide what you want to do.”

“That depends, what’s the easy way and what’s the hard way?” You challenged back to him.

His head nodded, “I’m guessing you’ve chosen the hard way,” he announced, bending down and wrapping his arms around you before scooping you off of your chair with ease.

“I would’ve still chosen the easy way I’ll have you know.”

Mingyu:

A strong pair of arms wrapped around you, instantly drawing you out of the daydream that you found yourself in, staring at your half-written essay. “You’re coming with me for a while before you drive yourself crazy.”

“Mingyu, I need to get this done,” you huffed, trying to pull his arms away from your waist, but he was far too strong to budge.

“What you need to do, is forget about your essay for a while, and then you can go back to it with a clearer head in a bit,” he assured you, pulling you down on top of him as he fell onto the sofa, keeping a hold of you.

Despite your protests, it didn’t take long before you made yourself comfortable cuddled into his side. “I’ve still got plenty of work to do, no matter how much you want to use a break as an excuse to cuddle me.”

“I mean it was part of the reason, but also because I’m worried about you too. Everyone needs to take breaks, even if you think it’s wrong. You’ll go back to your essay and ace it,” he assured you, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“You sound confident for someone that makes it very hard to leave a cuddle,” you joked.

Mingyu’s eyes rolled back at you, “to say you were reluctant to cuddle me, you’ve very quickly changed your tune. I guess cuddling me is never as bad as you think it is.”

“There’s nothing bad ever about cuddling with you.”

The8:

Minghao had watched you shut yourself away for far too long when it came to writing your essay, sensing just how unproductive you were getting. “Talk to me about it,” he announced when you stopped writing again.

“What are you on about?” You questioned, jumping slightly at the sound of his voice. “What are we supposed to talk about?”

“Your essay,” he smiled, placing his phone down beside him so that you had his full attention. “It’s supposed to help talking about things, so why don’t you give me some of your ideas and see what you think about them aloud?”

You stared questionably across at him, “are you really telling me that you want to sit here and listen to me talk to you about a subject you have no idea about? Did you even study psychology at school to know things?”

“I haven’t got a clue, but that might help. Explain it to me, and if it’s simple enough for me to understand, then it’s simple enough to go in your essay too, right?” He suggested, noticing the way in which your eyes lit up.

“Do you know, that might not be such a bad idea, I need the practice right now,” you grinned.

His head nodded, moving himself a little closer towards you, “why don’t you go from the beginning in that case, and make sure to write it down. I’m all ears whenever you’re ready.”

“Alright, I hope you’re prepared to pay close attention to me.”

Seungkwan:

As another sigh echoed out around the room, Seungkwan stood up from his own desk, walking around to you, resting his hands against your shoulders. “How’s it going?” He asked, staring at your empty page.

“Terribly,” you frowned, leaning back to rest against his chest, “do you fancy swapping and writing this for me Kwan?”

“I love you, but not enough to write a three-thousand-word essay,” he smiled, leaning down to press a kiss against the top of your head, “you’ve just got to keep working at it, and eventually it’ll all come together into something beautiful.”

His words were kind, but you were far from convinced. “I’ve stared at this screen for three hours, written one sentence, and then deleted it. It’s like I’m destined to just fail this essay and mess up my grades at the last minute.”

“Well, you won’t get very far with a negative attitude like that,” Seungkwan pointed out to you, “as hard as it is, you’ve just got to remain positive for now and trust in that brain of yours that the work will write itself.”

“My brain feels like it’s never been so useless as it is right now,” you continued to vent.

Seungkwan’s lips pressed against the top of your head, “you’re being too hard on yourself, just relax, and I promise that the work will come to you and you’ll get a great essay written.”

“I don’t know what I’d do without your positivity sometimes.”

Vernon:

Your brows furrowed as soon as you looked around to see your phone no longer on your desk, failing to remember where you’d last put it. “Looking for something?” A voice questioned, as the pieces very quickly came together.

“That’s unfair,” you cried out, unsurprised when you looked around to see Vernon holding onto your phone in his hands.

“You keep getting distracted, but you’re almost at the end, all you’ve got left to write is your conclusion. Let me keep a hold of this,” he propositioned, “and I bet in an hour you can have that essay completed to word count.”

Your eyes rolled, however good of an idea of his it seemed to be. “I was doing just fine with this work before you came over and stole my belongings. I’ve barely even been on my phone that much today you know.”

“Y/N, every time I look up, you’re typing away on your phone,” he chuckled, shaking his head at your protests. “You’ll thank me for doing this in a little while once your essay is complete and you’re not worrying anymore.”

“I’m not just typing, I’m doing research as well,” you tried to protest.

Vernon scoffed back at you, “Twitter is not research, however hard you want to try and convince yourself otherwise. Now, get it written, and then you can scroll through your feeds.”

“You really can be evil sometimes; do you know that?”

Dino:

It was obvious to Chan that you were beginning to struggle with your essay, you’d barely focused on it for quite some time, finding every distraction possible. “I’ve got a suggestion,” he called out as you picked up your phone again.

“What’s that?” You questioned, looking away from your computer to his figure that was sat across the room.

“I’ll order us takeout for dinner, my treat, if you get two hundred words done in the next hour,” Chan proposed, noticing how quickly your eyes lit up at the mention of food. “But only if you get your work done.”

A loud groan came from you, “I just knew that food would come at a price, it always does with you. Can’t we agree on one hundred, do you know how much effort two hundred words is going to take?”

“I do, but I also know how much better you’ll feel once you get it done,” he proudly smirked, knowing that he was right. “Just get your head done, if food isn’t a good enough goal for you to reach, I don’t know what is.”

“You promise that two hundred is all I need for takeout?” You quizzed.

Chan’s head nodded back at you with a laugh, “I promise, as soon as you add two hundred words to that essay, a menu of your choosing will be ordered for dinner, and all paid for by me.”

“Alright, I guess I better get my head down then.”

---

Masterlist

[shotofire]

Impulse

LEVI ACKERMAN x F!READER

Overview: In which you have trouble respecting Captain Levi, and he shows you whos in charge

Warnings: cursing, filthy smut, hair pulling, spanking, dirty talk, choking, degrading, angst, toxic relations, biting, oral, creampie

Season: Not specified

-

Most would jump off a cliff before they even thought about talking back to the Captain Levi. Then there was you, the girl who sure had a mouth on them. At first you treated the Captain with respect and followed orders, but then he became too pushy. You’d never liked when others barked orders at you, or told you to do one thing after another. It was common sense that things were done more sufficiently if you take your time and not rush. Captain Levi wanted things done quickly, no questions asked.

Personally, you didn’t like the guy. One could not deny that he was extremely attractive, and when you had first saw him he’d sparked your interest. Then he decided to open his mouth and it ruined the entire fantasy you had playing out.

He expected way too much out of his squad sometimes, and you really wished Erwin hadn’t assigned you to him. You were incredibly skilled but lacked discipline and could be lazy at times. There was a reason he’d put you with Levi, but you had yet to realize it.

To you Levi was a ego driven asshole who thought he was better because of his rank. He always had your squad out late running laps, and cleaning whatever he wanted you to. Purification of whatever he found unfit had to be your least favorite thing in the world. You’d been raised on a farm and constantly had to clean, then you joined the scouts thinking it’d be all action. Then your Captain has you shoveling horse shit several times a week, and for what exactly? You had no clue. There was no way this was benefitting to your skills at all, it’s not like you had to clean titan shit.

The worst part was that Levi would only make you clean it all by yourself. The rest of your squad got the  luxury of sweeping, dusting, or mopping. Then there was you trying not to throw up every five minutes while the smell of shit and piss is filling your head. It was hell and you about had enough. You’d kept your mouth shut at that point telling yourself over and over to be the bigger person. You had reached a breaking point when a horse nearly kicked you in the face, you had to get off of Levi’s squad.

That day you stomped to Commander Erwins office full set of getting assigned to a new squad. Erwin had a weird soft spot for you, mainly because he knows your tragic past. He tried his best not to let it show, favoritism wasn’t something he liked to reveal. Harsh knocks echo through the mans office and he flinched, “You may come in.” There you are bursting through the door out of breath and cheeks flaming red.

The sight was somewhat scary, but only because you looked like you were about to rip someone’s head off. The first thing you saw, that only added to the anger, was Captain Levi himself sitting across from Erwin. Why the hell does he have to be here? You thought as your hands balled into firsts.

Everyone knew you had a temper problem. That was another reason Erwin saw you fit for Levi’s squad. Levi didn’t like people who couldn’t control themselves, so he wanted to put you in your place. So far all he’s done is increase your irritability and make you want to punch him in the face. “I want to be on another squad, I can’t take anymore of Captain Levi,” you stare ahead at Erwin, not even acknowledging Levi. The raven-haired man look at you with narrowed eyes and a scowl, someone really needed to put you in your place.

“Coming into my quarters without stating your name or business will get you nowhere, neither will that tone,” Erwin said, he couldn’t believe the way you were acting. You huffed at his words, patience wearing thin. “To hell with my tone!” Levi and Erwin’s eyes widen and their mouths fall open.

Not once has a cadet talked or acted in this manner of disrespect, you had some nerve. Levi was infront of you in almost an instant, backing you up against the door as his breath fanned over your face. “You need to learn how to respect your Captain and your Commander, or i’ll have you sent to the military police. Stop acting as if you’re entitled to be treated like a princess when all you are is a brat,” he spits in your face.

It took everything in you to not knee the man in his groin. You look away from him to Erwin, seeing his armed crosses at his chest. All of you knew your actions just now we’re not justified and you shouldn’t be talking to your superiors that way. But what Levi was doing right now was completely degrading. The Commander wasn’t big on Levi’s approach, but he let him follow through. He was your Captain after all, he treated you how he saw fit. You grabbed the knob that was pushing into your back and opened the door, causing Levi to stumble back a bit. “I hate men,” you mumbled before slamming the door.

A few cadets stood outside the room with wide eyes and jaws ajar. They had heard the whole thing, some wondered how you were still alive. “What the fuck do you want?” You yelled with gritted teeth. They didn’t say a word, only scattered away. If you could talk to the superiors like that and not get your ass kicked there was no telling what you were capable of deep down.

Levi and the Erwin looked at one another with shocked expressions. “She needs to be put in her place,” Levi grunts. No cadet had pushed his buttons like you have. Erwin held the bridge of his nose with his thumb and pointer finger, eyes pressed shut. “She’s a lot like the way you used to be, you know. You gave me a hard time, I guess she’s your karma,” Erwin said somewhat amused. Levi didn’t find anything funny, not even in the slightest.

It had been a few weeks since the incident and Levi hadn’t let you catch a break. If anything things got worse, and you were doing more shit back to back. He went as far as to make you do dishes at breakfast, lunch, and dinner for a straight two weeks. Your attitude had gotten worse as well and insulting the Captain to his face had become a regular occurrence. “(y/n), I want you to clean the stables and then strip all the cadets beds. The sheets need cleaning,” he said to you with a smirk on his face. Your squad stood in a side by side line as he gave you each a chore. Everyone’s was simple and would only take maybe an hour, but yours would cost the rest of the day. “You’re such a prick,” you said with an enraged tone.

Some of your squad gasps while the others had already grown used to it. Levi wasn’t going to stop until you did, it was stubbornness against stubbornness. Even if you did insult him and yell profanities in his face you’d still do as he said. He got such joy out of ordering you around. “And you’re such a brat,” he said back with an amused smile. Before you could think your hand was starting to swing through the air, your squads face watched in horror. He grabbed your wrist right before it made contact with his face, his eyes never left yours. That was kind of hot, you thought and automatically wanted to slap yourself.

His hand remained on your wrist and his grip tightened, causing you to whimper in pain. “Go to what i’ve asked of you cadets,” he says with that same shit eating grin on his face. They all run away with startled expressions. “Let me go,” you tried to rip away your hand but it was no use. “After you’re done with your tasks come to my quarters, no matter how late it is. Also take a shower before you get anywhere near me, you smell like shit.” You scoffed at his words, “Eat fucking shit, Levi.” Calling him by his name really pissed him off, you hadn’t call him Captain since the Erwin office visit. He let go of your wrist finally and walked off, leaving you vision blurred with anger.

Your fellow cadets didn’t say a word as your sweaty form stripped their beds. The smell coming off of you was gag worthy, but they didn’t dare provoke you. If you could talk to Levi in that manner there was no telling what you’d do to them.

One wrong look and you’d knock their teeth out, no questions asked. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t half-ass clean those stables. But the afternoon was coming in and you still had to clean and hang everyone’s sheets. That would take longer than anything, and you’d probably miss out on lunch and dinner. You sat out in the sun pushing one smelly sheet into the bucket of soap and water after another. The boys bed linen almost made you throw up a few times. Did they ever bath?

After soaking them they were hung up to dry, and with the beaming sun hopefully it wouldn’t take too long. You thought about the whole reason you’d basically became a maid, Captain Levi. The man had his mind set on making your life a living hell, and you returned the favor. The threat to send you back to the military police didn’t scare you one bit, it wasn’t going to happen. You were more skilled at killing titans than anyone else on your squad, and almost all the others. Loosing you would be a great loss for the scouts, and you knew it. Some thought, if it came down to it, you could totally kick Levi’s ass. He had heard that one day and it only exasperated the man further. His ego was bigger than a mountain and that chipped the top off of it.

As the sheets dried you were able to attend lunch, but just barely. Most had already finished and were doing combat training. You managed to stuff down a few pieces of bread to keep you moving for the rest of the day. When you returned back to you duties over half of them had dried and you jumped up and down with joy.

You celebrated too fast, and Levi was coming towards you quickly. The sight made you want to vanish in thin air, what could he possibly want now? “I took a look at the stables, you didn’t even clean half of it.” Of course he went and checked. “I’ll finish it,” you grumbled. He was shocked that he didn’t get a smart response, you just didn’t have the energy to deal with him right now.

The rest of the sheets dried and you returned them to each bed. You had never felt like such a maid before, having to make beds for grown adults. Knowing you had to finish cleaning the stables almost brought you to the edge of tears. All you wanted was to lay in your bed and sleep, to relax the pain filling out your lower back. Pure stench filled your senses as you entered the stables, each horse eyeing you. To be honest these horses scared you, their beady judgemental eyes reminded you of Levi. Thinking about that made you snort out loud, your next insult was definitely going to be telling him he looked like a damn horse.

The sun had set by the time you’d finished, and you wouldn’t be surprised if most had already gone to sleep. Thoughts of your bed made you crack a smile before letting out a deep yawn. You headed straight for the showers, stripping yourself of your sticky clothing. As the satisfaction of hot water ran over your body you sighed and closed your eyes. It was a great feeling that you truly needed.

The happiness was short lived as you remembered that Levi wanted you in his office once you were finished. You wanted to scream at the thought, why the hell does he want to see you? The man can’t stand you so why would he spend his after hours to talk to you? There was no point if he was just going to insult you, but you had no choice.

After getting dressed and somwhat drying your hair, you drag your feet to Levi’s office. You stare at the door for a few seconds, contemplating just going to bed. That would ensure a even more hell filled day tomorrow, so you went ahead and knocked on the door. This shouldn’t last long anyways, right? He’s gonna throw a few insults and you’re gonna leave, easy as that. “Come in,” his deep voice says. You open the door, shut it behind you, and start walking up to his desk. He didn’t expect you to state your name or salute him, so he wasn’t too fazed. You sit down in the wooden chair on the other side of his desk, eyes laced with annoyance. He takes in your state, you looked completely beat.

“Do you know why you’re here (y/n)?” He questioned, his fingers interlocked as they sat upon his desk. The man was trying to be all serious but you weren’t in anyway intimidated. “Nope, but i’d appreciate it if you’d hurry up. See I just did all your dumb chores for you and i’m fucking tired.” The Captain presses his lips in a straight line. He stands up from his seat, moving to your side of the desk and sitting on the edge of it.

He’s close to you now, frame above yours. You look up at him, feeling small under his gaze. “That right there, the unnecessary attitude. I’m tired of you thinking you’re better than everyone, when i’m reality you’re just an entitled brat.” So he’d called you here to argue? You didn’t care how tired you were, this man wasn’t going to walk all over you.

You stand up, eye to eye with him, and growl in his face. “I’m the one who thinks i’m entitled? You order everyone around like some King, Well guess what your highass, no one likes you! You’re just some higher rank motherfucker who thinks their life is more valuable than anyone else. When will you face reality and see we’re not different!” You yell in his face, not holding back at all. Your faces were so closer, barely touching.

The air fell silent at your words and he looked into your eyes. Maybe what he was about to do was pure impulse and should be thought over. But he’s already slamming his lips onto yours in a hungry kiss before he can really think it over. He was baffled when your lips moved with his, tongues already slipping against one another. You couldn’t believe you were kissing him right now, but you couldn’t find it within you to stop.

In one swift move Levi had your back pressed on his desk as he hovered over you, the kiss only intensifying. His fingers pressed at your sides and you let out lights moans onto his lips, only boosting his ego. When his lips moved to your neck you realized what was happening, “What the hell.” Levi heard you mumble and only chuckled. His lips bite and suck at your nape and you can’t hold back the sounds coming from your lips. “I fucking hate you,” you said through clenched teeth.

It was aggravating that you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him to stop, you didn’t even want him to. His pillow lips felt like heaven against your skin and you already felt your core start to dampen. After those words pass your lips hes pressing his hand to your neck, stopping any air from making its way in. “Hate me all you want, but I know you’re dying for me to fuck you right now. I bet you’d even beg me,” he said with a smirk. His hand stays wrapped around your neck as his other hand pulls your shorts down your legs. “See, you’re already wet.” He eyes the visible mark on your underwear with a devilish smile.

He lets go of your neck and you immediately start coughing, he was for sure insane. Before you could collect yourself he was biting the inside of your thigh, causing you to yelp. He sucked harshly at the delicate skin and you wince away from his touch. He’s fast to grab your thighs with a firm grip, and you’re unable to move away. You gasp as he licks a long stripe on your still covered core. “So sensitive,” he coos.

You’d die before you admitted it, but Levi looked so incredibly sexy right now. His eyes were sparkling with lust and his lips were a light shade of red from the kissing. His fingers loops on the sides of your underwear and he yanks them off. You watch as he bites his lower lip, eyeing your wet pussy. Before you can even think, his lips are attaching to where you needed him the most.

A long high pitched moan slips past your lips and you’re positive someone had to have heard you. His mouth works against you and you’re a complete mess. You fall onto your back and raise your hips, but his arms are fast to push you back onto the surface. His left hand leaves your waist, and soon he’s plunging two fingers into your hole. “Holy fuck!” You yell in complete ecstasy, eyes rolling into the back of your head. You feel your high approaching as his fingers and mouth continue to work. “Yes, yes! Please don’t stop,” you say with tears forming in your eyes. He smiles at your words, feeling accomplished. His lips wrap around your bundle of nerves and it send you over the edge. Your legs shake as he sends you through your orgasm.

Before you could even collect yourself he was ripping your shirt over your head, and then his own. He nearly breaks your bra trying to get it off, and you snort at him. You sit up so he doesn’t have to struggle, “I still hate you.” He ignores your words and flips your body over so that you’re facing away from him. The sound of his pants being pulled down makes your stomach drop, shit. You were really about to have sex with this asshole. He enters you without any warning and you let out your loudest moan yet. The man doesn’t bother giving you time to adjust as his hips start moving at a ungodly speed. Your nails dig into the desk at the feeling. Levi was much bigger than you anticipated, definitely the biggest you had ever been with.

The sound of skin slapping together fills the air, mixed with your constant moans. His hand comes down to smack you ass, making red handprints in your skin. The stinging sensation brought you pleasure, and he noticed. His hand cracked down harder and you yelled out in pain and pleasure. “Fuck, if I would’ve know you were such a slut I would’ve already fucked you,” he says breathlessly. He grabs that hair at your scalp, pulling you back into his chest. He fucks up into you harder and you can’t think straight. His fingers stay tangled in your hair as his lips attack your neck, leaving small purple marks on your skin.

“Tell me how much you love it,” he whispers in your ear, “Tell me you love my cock.” The filthy words made you shiver even though your body was on fire. You didn’t answer, mustering up words as fucked you ruthlessly was nearly impossible. He lets go of your scalp, making you fall forward. He grabs ahold of your waist and pushes himself into you deeper, making your mouth fall open. “Tell me, now,” he says before pulling back and shoving himself deeply again. “I love your cock,” you say with tear filled eyes. He smirks in gratification and somehow manages to move his hips even faster. Soon your legs are shaking once again as you reach your second orgasm.

Levi pulls out of you harshly and you’re left limp on his desk. Arms wrap around your frail body and carry you into his bedrooom that was connected to his office. The feeling of the soft bed makes you sigh, it was a lot better than your own. He’s already back between your legs, and you finally get to take in his toned body.

You sit up to run your fingers up and down his stomach, feeling him flinch under your touch. His breath hitches when you keep moving down, fingering wrapping around his still hard dick. You pump your wrist a few times and his eyes shut at the feeling. You guide him back to your aching hole, wanting more. As he enters you, you throw your head back.

He starts moving, hips hitting yours harshly. His elbows sit on either side of your head as he fucks you into the mattress. Foreheads press against one another and his eyes stare into yours. The sight was new to you, his eyes were sparkling differently than in the beginning. You’d never seen this side of Levi, he actually looked loving. “God, you’re so beautiful,” he said breathlessly. Your stomach flipped at his words, it was the first nice thing he’d said to you. To be honest, you didn’t even know he was capable of being nice. Yet he’d just let a compliment slip past his lips.

You legs wrapped around his waist, helping him go deeper. The feeling of your third orgasm approaching had you seeing double. Levi pressed his lips against yours in a sweet kiss as you moan through your high, and he comes undone inside of you. The room is filled with heavy breathing as you two try to compose yourself.

Levi is the first to say something, “I’m sorry.” You sit up quickly and look at him confused. “I ordered you around like a dog and it wasn’t right. You just have so much pride,” his eyes look at the ceiling, “I wish I could be like that.” You smile softly, he was just damaged more than you knew. “I’m sorry for shit talking you in front of everyone,” you say and can’t help but let out a light laugh.

He smiles and closes his eyes, “you’re still a brat.”

[goldencuffs]

untraditional

@lamenweek day five: traditions

Damen doesn’t think he’s supposed to feel so bone-weary at thirty-one.

Everything in his body aches, and he’s already greying at his temples. Last night, he had gone to bed at eight.

Theomedes doesn’t look up from the Ios Financial Times when Damen enters the Drawing Room. The table already has been set: Damen’s seat is, as usual, is to the left of his father, exactly fourty-seven centimetres apart. Damen’s food has been already served, because his father got here before him, and everyone gets served the same time as Theomedes.

Damen’s entire life has been dictated by these traditions, guidelines and precedents.

Some of them are good, but most of them are like this: nonsensical and elitist.

Even Theomedes’ and Damianos’ tea is prepared via strict protocol: one teaspoon of loose tea leaves per cup, heated to a hundred degrees celcius (seventy for green tea), with a tablespoon of organic, raw honey added straight to the teapot.

(It’s amazing tea, though).

Theomedes says, “Your food is cold.”

Damen stares at the pile of mash potatoes and salmon. “I’m not hungry.”

He also hates salmon, but Theomedes is the only one who sets the menu for the week with the head chef. Last week, they had roast beef and vegetables four times.

“You’re not still sulking are you?” Theomedes finally says, three minutes later.

Damen grips his table fork. He forces himself to do the breathing exercises Makedon had taught him.

In an ideal world, he wouldn’t reply, but in this one, everyone answered to the King.

“No, sir,” Damen says, and shoves a polite bite of food in his mouth.

“You haven’t had a meal with me in three weeks,” Theomedes says, and he sounds hurt and disappointed.

“Hmm,” Damen says. “I’ve been busy. You know I’ve been working on the preservation of Marlas with Nikandros.”

Theomedes crosses his fork and knife over his plate. Instantly, three different staff members rush forward to clear the table.

Damen’s plate is cleared too; no one eats after the King has left. Another useless, bane tradition.

“You know I did what’s best for you,” Theomedes says, looming over Damen.

When Damen nods, Theomedes kisses his temple. “You’ll realise it sooner, rather than later.”

“Yes, sir,” Damen says quietly, and rises only after Theomedes has left, as is protocol.

*

An hour later, the itch under Damen’s skin becomes unbearable, and he finds himself burrowing under the left corner of his mattress for certain… supplies.

He pulls on the red, shoulder-length curly wig with little care, and then the faux-leather beret. It’s peeling and terrible, but Damen doesn’t care.

The rest of his outfit is just layers: sunglasses, two coats, scarves, and a muted shirt, to hide as much of his body as possible.

He normally doesn’t leave so early in the day, when he’s being patrolled by guards and the Kyros.

Luckily, it’s only Nikandros who catches him, right outside his door.

His expression is flat. “You’re not serious. You’re leaving now? We’re in the middle of drafting the Delpha treaty!”

Damen shrugs. “I have to go.”

“You don’t have to—” Nikandros cuts himself off with a sigh. “Whatever. Can you please bring me back those caramel slices?”

Damen grins. “You got it, boss.”

Once he’s past the Main Foyer, the rest of the journey is easy: Damen takes an hour and a half train ride from Central Ios to Andris, and then a fifteen minute bus ride on the eighty-six. And then finally, an eight minute walk to the Andris Office District.

There’s a small bookstore there called Pocket Bookmark, painted emerald green, the lettering done in gold.

Inside, it’s not too busy: it’s not quite the end of a business day, and the customers in here are high school students, skimming the Shakespeare section, and a man hovering near the new releases.

Damen keeps his head down, weaving through the aisles.

Nicaise, the mouthy teenage cashier rolls his eyes when he sees Damen approaching, lifting up the wooden flap on on the bench, allowing Damen to duck through.

“Thanks, kid,” Damen says, mussing his hair.

“Ah, fuck off,” Nicaise grunts, but fondly. He’s warmed up to Damen ever since Damen bought him his first car. (Nothing too flashy, obviously).

Damen hurries all the way to the back, opening the door marked, No entry, and then goes up the narrow steps, which always make the worst creaking noises.

There’s another door a the small porch upstairs, and Damen fishes out the key in his pocket to open it.

Instantly, he’s hit with the smell of butter chicken simmering on the stove, and his mouth salivates. He dumps his entire attire by the small settee in the hallway, inhaling gratefully.

The second thing he’s greeted with is Wendy, who meows and claws at his leg.

“Come here, baby,” Damen murmurs, picking her up and holding her to his chest. She purrs and curls up, like a big ball of fluff and he kisses her head. “I love you so much.”

She meows in response, and snuggles closer.

Laurent turns off the stove in the tiny kitchen. He looks over his shoulder for just a second and scrunches his nose. “Ugh, she’s such a slut. I’ve been petting her for the last hour, but apparently I’m just not good enough.”

Laurent is in his after work attire: which means he’s as half dressed as possible. The shirt he’s wearing is one of Damen’s, and his shorts are the pair that shrunk in the wash; they ride too high up his thigh.

Laurent’s just come out of the shower: the hair at his nape is still wet, and his skin is pinked and glowing. Even with the curry, Damen can smell jasmine and coconut.

Laurent has got this sweet, soft smile that lights up his eyes.

It takes Damen’s breath away: not just Laurent, but this entire picture of domesticity. It’s all Damen’s wanted his entire life.

He means to make a snarky comment about Wendy, but what comes out is: “Marry me.”

Laurent drops the wooden spoon, eyes wide.

Damen grips Wendy too tightly and she lets out a shriek and jumps out of his arms.

They stare at each other for a moment. Damen’s heart is racing.

Laurent blinks. “Oh, sorry. I think I hallucinated for a minute.”

Damen steps forward, smiling. “It wasn’t a hallucination. Marry me.”

Laurent makes a small noise in the back of his throat. “Are you asking me or telling me?” He swallows, eyes darting all over Damen’s face, his body. “I don’t see a ring,” he says quietly.

Damen groans, rubbing a hand over his face. “Shit, I know. I had this whole plan, I was going to propose with the Queen’s ring, but obviously I’d have to talk to my father first and—” He sits down at the kitchen table, pulling out his phone. “There’s a courthouse ten minutes from here. It’s Thursday night, so they’re still open. We just need to show up with a signed ‘Intended Marriage Certificate’. It’s like three pages, we’ll be fine.”

“…Oh.” Laurent has gone very still. “You’re looking up courthouses. You’re serious.”

“Shit,” Damen says, watching him. “I’m so sorry. You—Do you want to marry me, Laurent? Because I’ve been dying to marry you since I first saw you. Er. No pressure, though.”

Laurent glares at him, affronted. “Of course I want to marry you, you fucking idiot!”

Damen leaps to his feet, grinning and flushed. “Fuck yeah! Let’s go print this form and—”

“Damen!” Laurent laughs, looking a little crazed. “We can’t just—Just wait a minute.”

“Alright. Shoot, baby.”

Predictably, Laurent flushes pink. “Is it even legal? Aren’t there special ceremonies for royals? And—and the King still thinks we broke up!”

Damen winces a little at that.

After an entire year of sneaking around, of meeting up in discreet hotels, and making plans to move in together one day, Damen had fucked up three weeks ago.

Drunk and enamoured, he had kissed Laurent outside his bookstore after a date. There had been photos—and the only saving grace had been the fact that Laurent’s face had been inscrutable.

But the fact that he was a commoner had been enough for Theomedes to unleash his rage. He had ordered Damen to break things off with Laurent, and Damen had pretended to, but… Well, Laurent had been hurt. It had been the first time he had realised how shaky their entire relationship was, how quickly it could come crumbling down.

Damen had spent days convincing him otherwise, and Laurent had finally agreed, but there had still been shadows in his eyes.

Now—now, though, Damen realises exactly what he can do, what he should have done months ago, to make Laurent realise he’s it.

“Fuck the King,” Damen says. He finally closes the distance between them, gripping Laurent’s hands. “Laurent, listen. I can still get married legally in a civil ceremony.”

“But—” Laurent bites his lip. “I don’t want you to get into trouble. And,” His voice grows small. “I know there’s so many rules and traditions you have to follow. I’ve read about the whole tradition where your father is supposed to gift you a diptych piece.”

Damen’s heart is warm. He smiles down at Laurent, smitten. “You’ve read up on royal wedding traditions?”

Laurent colours even more. “Of course.”

Damen kisses him hard, unable to bare the love swelling up inside him. Laurent flings his arms around Damen’s neck, his mouth emitting small, sweet gasps.

When they pull apart, Damen presses his forehead to Laurent’s. “Fuck the King,” he repeats. “Fuck the customs and rules and traditions. You are the only thing that matters to me. Just forget everything for a moment and answer: do you want to go downtown and marry me?”

Laurent’s smile overtakes his face, his eyes shining. “Yes,” he says softly. “I want to—so much.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t ask you in a better way or give you a ring or—”

“Stop. This was absolutely perfect.” He sighs. “You’re perfect.”

Damen kisses him again, pressing him to the counter. “I want you to have my mother’s ring.”

Laurent buries his head into Damen’s chest, overwhelmed. He nods.

Damen drops a kiss to his hair. “Get changed, baby. We’re getting married.”

Laurent looks up at him in wonder. “We’re getting married.”

[worminstuff]

The Balcony of the Treehouse Pt.5

sleepy bois x reader au

warning: cigarettes and smoking

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

“Tommy no! Leave Tubbo alone!” Phil scolded his son. Tommy was currently tugging on the straps of Tubbos overalls, and Tubbo seemed a bit annoyed.

Sam chuckled at the two boys, shaking his head. “He's alright, he’ll tell Tommy off if he needs to.”

Phil nodded, “right.”

“What's got you all stressed?” Sam asked, his face full of worry for his friend.

Phil and Sam became really close friends after Tommy and Tubbo seemed to really enjoy being friends. They were like dad pals! Phil loved having a friend that was also a father so he had someone to talk things only another dad would understand.

“My older ones are going through this weird teenager thing and i want to help them i just don't know how.'' Phil sighed and looked down at his coffee.

“Ah okay, well did they fight or?” Sam asked him.

“Sort of. Techno and Wilbur both have..feelings..for y/n, I think. And I think it's really only affected Wilbur in the worst ways so far.” he took a long sip of his coffee.

“Well has he gotten to talk it out yet?”

“With me, yes.” 

“How about with Y/n?” Sam said, pointing a finger at phil.

Phil looked up at Sam, suddenly realizing something.

“No, but that might be a good idea. Surely I can't sit them down to do it though that would be far too awkward, right?” Phil was racking his brain for ways to fix this dilemma.

“Why not just give them some time alone and see if they'll fix it themselves? They are teenagers”

“But I can almost never get Techno away from Y/n and Wilbur would never talk with Techno there..” Phil leaned back, almost defeated.

“Or! How about Techno comes and meets Bo? I feel like they would get along well and techno wouldn't be home. Y/n can babysit? Maybe you could even ask Will to help her?

Phil grinned wildly at Sam, “You my friend, are a genius!”

Sam laughed, he was about to thank Phil when suddenly there were yells from near the front door.

“Calm yourself rugrats!” Y/n was laughing as she was getting bombarded by tommy and tubbo both of them excitedly jumping around her.

As she walked through them to the table with Sam and Phil, the boys followed closely.

“Morning! Are we having a dad meeting or?” she pointed at the two of them.

“Sort of.” Phil laughed. “Do you and Techno have plans today?” Phil asked, Y/n looked up from the small boys tugging at the flannel that was hanging loosely on her shoulder.

“No, not that I know of. Is he awake yet?” Y/n looked to the living room to see if he was sitting on the couch.

“He's still sleepin.'' Tommy said. 

Y/n looked down to him, “how about we go wake him up?” she said grinning, 

Tommy's hands shot up in the air as he yelled in agreement, running down the hall to Techno's room, Tubbo following behind him. Y/n shook her head with a small laugh, following them.

Once she made it to Techno's doorway, she barked out a laugh. Clutching her stomach she laughed as tommy and tubbo were jumping up and down on top of techno.

Groggily, he picked his head up, then his arm, and started spotting the kids. Tubbo and Tommy screeched, as he grabbed their feet, making them fall as he started tickling them.

“Okay now get out of my room.” he said as he nudged them off his bed. The boys slid off his bed, running from the room giggling manically. 

“Morning pinky.” Y/n said, still stood in the doorway. Techno groaned, falling back onto his pillow. He hadn't really slept that well and he very much wanted to go back to sleep.

“I think Phil has plans for us today.” Y/n said plopping down on techno's bed, laying sideways across his legs.

Techno grabbed a pillow from behind his head and slammed it on top of her. She grabbed the pillow and threw it back at him.

“I'm serious! He asked if we had anything planned.” she frowned.

“We don't.” he mumbled.

Y/n picked her head up and glared at him, “Not with that attitude! Get out of bed lazy.” Y/n picked herself up off Techno's bed and left, giving him some time to wake up. 

Back in the kitchen, Phil and Sam were listening to Tommy and Tubbo as Tubbo was telling Tommy all about his bee friend. (Tubbo found a bee in his backyard that morning.)

Just as Y/n sat at the table techno walked into the dining room groggily. He made his way over to y/ns chair standing behind it and poking her. 

“Up. get up” he mumbled, his morning voice gravelly.

“What why?” Y/n questioned looking up at him.

“I wanna sit. Move. make me breakfast.” Techno patted her hair annoyingly, there were no chairs left since there were only 5 chairs at the table.

“They really are best friends huh?” Sam joked, looking at phil. 

Phil nodded with a laugh as Y/n was reaching her arms behind her trying to hit him off.

“Speaking of, I have propositions for you two.” Phil said, turning his body towards them in a very dad like way.

“I'm listening.” Techno said, his hands pushing Y/ns head as she tried to pry his hand away.

“How about a day apart for once?” Phil said hastily.

Techno and Y/n froze, then glanced at each other.

“What for?” Techno's eyes were narrow, very suspicious.

Y/n dramatically put her wrist to her forehead, “Separate us?! How could you!” 

Techno looked down at her, unamused. She picked her head up and looked at phil. “I'm down. What we doin?”

Techno snorted a small laugh. She was genuinely the weirdest person he'd met.

Both the fathers laughed at the pair for a moment. They acted like siblings.

“How would you feel about meeting my son today? Sam said, looking at the pink haired boy. Tubbo perked up hearing his father talk, thinking it was about him.

“He's right there, I've met him.” Techno said in a very obvious tone as he pointed at Tubbo. Tommy stood up in his chair trying to bite the finger of his older brother as it was only inches from his face. Techno retracted his hand quickly looking at Tommy with a disgusted face.

“Not that son, Tubbo has an older brother and he's your age.” Sam said.

Techno nodded and shrugged, “Sounds..fun.” he was hesitant. He wasn't fond of people that weren't..Y/n. 

“And Y/n, we were wondering if you'd babysit while we all go.” Phil said, placing a soft hand on Y/n’s shoulder. He knew what she was about to say,

“Alone? Both of them?” Y/n looked to the boys who both gave her award winning grins, looking almost innocent. She narrowed her eyes at them jokingly and they giggled.

“Okay fine. BUT,” she looked up at techno who was still standing behind her chair, “You have to promise you won't be weird.” she looked at Phil pointing an accusing finger,  “don't let him be weird.”

Phil chuckled and nodded. Him and Sam continued their previous conversation, trying to think where to take the boys.

Techno rested his arms on the back of Y/ns chair as he was about to start nagging for breakfast again, when Tubbo got to her first.

“Y/n do you like bees?” Tubbo asked her.

Y/n smiled, slightly confused. “I do...why?”

“We like bees.” Tommy said.

“We?” Techno chimed in.

Tommy rolled his eyes and stared at techno with a taken aback expression as if Techno had asked the most stupid question he could come up with.

“Don't look at me like that.” Techno rolled his eyes and gave Tommy a flick to his nose. Tommy gasped, very offended.

Y/n laughed loudly as Techno learned off her chair standing straight so he could go make himself some breakfast.

“You know, if you'd like, you can take them to your house.” Phil said as he leaned over to talk to her. He had a small fatherly smile on his face.

Y/n was confused, why would tubbo and tommy wanna go to her house?

“You've got all your paint, and stuff. Plus Tommy's never been there so it would be like a new adventure. You don't have to do it the whole time, Wilbur will be back in a while so you all can go do something when he gets back.” Phil shrugged.

“Hm..alright. Does he know he's gonna be babysitting?” Y/n knew Wilbur hated it when he didn't know where everyone was or people surprised plans on him.

“I'll shoot him a text, don't worry. Hey techno? Gonna be ready to go in a bit?”

Techno stood in the doorway upon hearing his name called, his hand on his stomach scratching and a piece of toast hanging out of the corner of his mouth.

“Nevermind. Go shower.” Phil said, shaking his head at his own son.

Techno rolled his eyes and walked through the dining room to go do as his father asked, like a good son.

Tommy slid off his chair and made his way over to Y/n, she looked down at him with a small smile. 

“What's up?” she said wondering why he's getting down from his chair.

“Are you gonna watch me and Tubbo today?” he asked

“I am yes” she raised her eyebrows

Tommy whispered, “We should get Tubbo a bee.”

Y/n  was confused, a bee?

Instead of questioning him, Y/n only nodded.

Y/n sat quietly as Tommy made his way back to his seat next to his best friend. She was sitting silently when she felt her phone vibrate in her back pocket.

She thought it might've been Techno asking for a towel or something weird, but she was very wrong.

Wilbur: So we’re babysitting?

It took Wilbur 13 minutes to compile that one message and send it. He spent five of those minutes staring at her contact name in his phone.

y/n: seems like it, is that alright?

Wilbur: course it is. Why wouldn't it be?

Wilbur watched as the typing bubbles floated above the letter keys on his screen before they disappeared.

y/n: no reason, just curious.

Y/n slid the phone back into her pocket since techno was back in the dining room, and behind her chair again.

Phil told her his whole shpeal about no fire and all that, let Wilbur do the driving if we go anywhere and to not let tommy and tubbo be alone for longer than 2 minutes. After assuring him everything would be fine, Sam techno and Phil left. 

Y/n looked at the small children who were staring at her expectantly.

“How do we feel bout an adventure?” she said making jazz hands.

Both boys cheered, “Okay then go get your shoes you gremlins.” she shooed them towards the door where their shoes were sitting beside the door.

Both boys clumsily sat on the floor and started putting their shoes on with Y/n standing and watching them.

y/n: what time are you gonna be back?

Wilbur: soon. Why? Is everything okay?

y/n: everything is fine, were just taking a walk to my house so

Wilbur: ill head over there when I get back then.

Y/n sent a thumbs up just as she felt tubbo tugging on her pant leg, she lent down to his level and he not so quietly whispered towards her ear.

“Tommy can't tie his shoe.” 

“He can't? Why didn't he say something?” Y/n whispered back, playing along.

“He's embarrassed” 

“I am not!” Tommy yelled as he heard Tubbo’s harsh whisper. Tommy was sat frustrated with tangled shoelaces in his hands.

Y/n sat on the floor in front of him detangling his shoe laces, and then showed him how she ties her shoes so he could try. Eventually he got it and they were ready to hit the sidewalk.

“I've never been to your house Y/n.” Tommy said. 

Tommy was on her left, holding one of her hands, and Tubbo was on her other side, holding her other hand.

“I know you haven't.” she said with a small chuckle.

“I didn't know you had a house.” he said

Y/n looked down at him, taken aback by his statement. 

“W- you- you didn't think I had a house? Where do you think I go when I'm not at your house then?” she laughed as she let go of his hand to grab her keys from her pocket once they reached her front door.

“Outside.” he said. He just thought she slept outside? 

She chose not to question him further since she was already confused by his child thoughts.

Once her front door was open, all three of them stared into her fairly empty house. All the lights were off, and there wasn't much furniture. But there was a sudden faint meow off in the distance.

Tubbo and Tommy beamed, running into the house.

“Cat! Where is cat?” Tommy said, looking at Y/n frantically. 

“Probably in my room, but he's shy, so don't be all crazy.” Both boys nodded at her, eyebrows down and faces serious. They were on a mission now.

She started her way to her bedroom with the boys following closely. Once they made it to her doorway, low and behold, there was a small ginger cat sitting on her bed.

On top of a certain sweater.

“Hey front door was open, I locked it but- oh cat.” Wilbur said, now standing behind Y/n.

Y/n sort of stared at him for a moment. He looked...she didn't know if she particularly wanted to say it... hot.

He was wearing black ripped jeans, a dark green crewneck and a black beanie and not to mention, he had eyeliner on. Eyeliner. It was smudged, but still neat. And it looked good. His hands were in his pockets as well.

“When did you get a cat?” he asked.

“Wilbur!” Tommy exclaimed, taking his hands off the cat on her bed to run and give his brother a hug. Wilbur placed a soft hand on his head as Tommy hugged his leg. His eyes were still on Y/n.

“I um.. I found him.” she said sheepishly.

“Do your parents know?” he said, eyes narrow.

“....no.” she winced. Wilbur sighed and shook his head. Tommy had let go of his leg and climbed back onto Y/ns bed with Tubbo to pet the orange cat.

“Well what's its name?” he walked into her room, and over to the bed, bending his knees to also pet the cat.

“I've” Y/n snorted, “I've been calling him bonk actually.”

“Bonk?” Wilbur looked appalled, but entertained.

“He bonks his head a lot.” she shrugged.

“Right. And..is this?..” he pointed to the sweater the cat was on.

Y/ns eyes widened. Wilbur laughed and shook his head. Standing up again. He walked past her a bit, tugging her arm a little so he could pull her into the hall.

“I really need to know, are you and my brother..serious?” he was hesitant.

Y/n thought really hard for a moment. “I don't..I don't fully know or understand..but i don't think we are. We haven't talked about it really.” she didn’t look into his eyes.

Wilbur nodded, he placed a finger on her chin so she'd look at him.

“Hey. don't..don't stress over it. And don't worry about me and him. Just worry about you and how you feel alright?” his voice was really soft, his eyes were moony. Y/n nodded. She was confused why he was so calm, as if he wasn't upset the other night at dinner, and the few days she hasn't seen him.

Wilbur's heart melted as he looked at her for a second longer. He looked over her shoulder into her room and at the two boys they were babysitting,

“I've never actually seen your room, you know.” Wilbur said as he watched Tommy scour around her room, looking for anything that caught his eye. He had a cd in his hand.

“You haven't? Really?” she asked.

“I've watched you climb out of it.” he smirked pointing to the window. Wilbur had helped her sneak out before, only once but it did happen.

Y/n shook her head, a strawberry like dust on her cheeks. Wilbur beamed.

Y/n was looking at his pants for a moment when she noticed a box in his front pocket.

She pointed at it and shot him a questioning look.

He kissed his teeth, giving her a knowing look. He expected her to be angry or something but she only looked away. As she glanced at her bed, Tubbo was laid next to the cat, his small hand resting on the cat's side. Both were asleep. Tommy was sitting on the bed, lazily blinking.

“You're both tired? Already?” her voice was soft, she didn't want to seem like she was mad or anything because if she could get those two to nap. She was gonna do it.

Tommy nodded, and she gave him a small nod. She grabbed two blankets and some extra pillows from her closet. She draped a small blanket on Tubbo, and another on Tommy once he laid back. She closed the blinds, so it was nice and dark and her and Wilbur slowly made their way away from her room.

She walked ahead of him into the kitchen, and hopped up on the counter. He stood across from her.

Wilbur looked around, “When was the last time your parents were home?” he looked at the empty living room.

“Which one?” she said softly.

“Either?”

“My mom was here like two weeks ago I think.” she kicked her legs back and forth a little.

Wilbur's eyes bulged a little. Two weeks?

“What do you do here then?”

“Um..sleep? And feed the cat? I don't know.. It's sort of nice. Really quiet, I can do whatever.”

Wilbur nodded, pulling the small box of cigarettes from his pocket.

“Is this alright?” he hesitantly asked, “it's fine if it's not.”

“No your good, just open the window.” she pointed to the window behind him above the sink. He opened the window and pulled one of the cigarettes from the white box, placing it between his lips as he lit it. Exhaling the smoke he inhaled.

He held it out to her and she stared at it for a moment. He took a step towards her, almost standing between her legs. 

“Have you ever..?” he tilted his head slightly. Y/n shook her head.

He set his hands beside her leg on the counter and took a long drag,  then flicked some of the ashes off into the sink. She stared at him, he was genuinely so gorgeous. 

“You look conflicted?” Wilbur leaned away from her. 

She nodded, “er..just a little. I'm feeling..nostalgic.” it was the only way she could describe how she felt at the moment without confusing him. Little her would be screaming right now.

“I think you should come with me when i go see my friends next time.” Wilbur said, looking into her eyes as he took another deep drag from the cigarette in his hand. She could barely pay attention to what he was saying.

“Why's that?” she tilted her head. Wilbur really didn't want to let himself get caught up in her again, but he couldn't help it.

He shrugged.

“It would be fun.” his grin was contagious.

She giggled as he blew a bit of smoke in her face, not nearly enough to annoy her or make her uncomfy. But enough to make her laugh.

Maybe it wasn't the worst idea to spend some more time with will.

[farmhandler]

My Everything

Rated: T

Pairing: Shifty/Richie from “Rockababy”

Word Count: 3k~

Summary: Shifty wants to know why Richie likes taking photos of him so much, and he gets his answer--and much more.

A/N: So this comic by the amazing human being @c2ndy2c1d is just really special. And then I wrote a fic because somebody had to, so please read the comic!! I was so charmed by all the characters, and I cannot resist this kind of nerd/jock/coolkid dynamic so here we are. I got permission to write this, so I hope I don’t butcher their characterizations! I tried to keep my interpretations as true to the comic as I could. Enjoy <3

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

“How long do I gotta sit like this?”

“Just a minute!” Richie says. It’s the same thing he said ten minutes ago, and then five minutes before that. He adjusts his camera lens and then poses again, taking another several photos for god knows what reason. “Just don’t move. I need to get the right shot…”

Shifty doesn’t move as promised, but his tail gives the table beside him a solid thwap to show Richie just how thin his patience is starting to run.

“Why do you want these photos anyway? You’ve taken like—thousands already, I swear.” 

“This is the first time I’ve gotten photos with your tail entirely intact.” He snaps another photo. Shifty lets out an explosive sigh and turns his head to give his neck a break. He’s lying on his stomach, ass up in the air, posed to give Richie ‘every valuable angle’ to get all the photos he needs for his research.

Research, research. It’s always about that damn research of his. He’s always makin’ Shifty turn this way and that, exposing every part of himself to Richie’s camera. Shifty can feel his face starting to turn pink, and without a doubt he knows the rest of his skin is sure to follow soon. It’s easier when he’s a human and there’s only so many places that can turn colors.

“I was hoping I could find a remedy to make your tail grow back faster,” Richie says forlornly, lowering his camera. “I’ve still got a lot of work to do.”

“Hey, you’re doing great,” Shifty says. He sits up, ignoring the look on Richie’s face and lifts one leg to his chest to give his arm something to lean on. “You helped make that medicine that took my pain away. That was pretty good.”

“Yeah,” Richie agrees reluctantly, staring down at his camera as if a medical marvel isn’t comparable to fixing Shifty’s tail—which was gonna grow back anyway. “But I wanted to figure this one out. I was so close…”

Shifty shrugs. “You’ve got time. Why worry about one little thing?”

“It’s not little,” Richie says, looking up at him. Even through his huge, nerdy glasses, his eyes burn with a passion that always leaves Shifty feeling strangely breathless. “I want to help you, any way I can.”

“So you’ve said,” Shifty says, off-hand, like his body isn’t changing colors. Richie’s gaze doesn’t shift, and Shifty keeps his eyes down at his feet, ‘cause otherwise he’ll never get the color to go away. “Why do you care so much about taking photos of me anyway? I mean—” While Richie stares at him, Shifty wrestles with his words, suddenly finding it hard to articulate something that’s been running through his mind since this whole thing with Richie started.

“What is it?”

“You’re always taking all these pictures because you think the way I look is—”

“—fascinating,” Richie finishes for him.

“Uh huh. Right, fascinating.” Shifty looks around for the pack of smokes Richie keeps for him and finds it on the shelf behind him. He lights it, once again ignoring Richie’s sharp look. No smoking inside, he’s always saying, but Shifty’s been dying for one for hours, and the rooms got great ventilation. “But let’s be real for a minute—don’t you prefer it when I look human?”

It’s not insecurity that makes Shifty ask the question. Well, not completely. Sure, he sometimes feels insecure about being so different from everyone, but he doesn’t wish he was a human.  Hell no—they’re fragile as hell.

Richie blinks at him. “Why would I want that?”

“Well—” Shifty pauses; stares down at his hand and starts the shift, lifting human fingers for Richie to see. “I don’t know, don’t you like it more? I look like you.”

“But you’re not like me,” Richie points out. Shifty shifts uncomfortably, weighing Richie’s words. The way he says it—it shouldn’t hurt, but it unexpectedly does.

Something in Shifty’s face must give him away, because in the next moment, Richie steps forward, his eyes wide. “And that’s a good thing! You’re not like me, you’re like you. And sure, the Shifty I knew at school and around town is a handsome guy, but I also really like the real you.” At Shifty’s continued silence, he continues. “Would you prefer it if I looked like you?”

“Well, no,” Shifty admits. “You’re a human.”

“Exactly. You’re perfect just the way you are.” Richie walks up to him, even closer now, those damn chocolate brown eyes boring into Shifty and makin’ him turn fucking pink. He can feel it happening because it always does around this guy; he’s the only one that can do this to him as often as he does, and the nerd has the gall to act like he has no idea what he’s doing.

He lifts his hands and cups the sides of Shifty’s face, the warmth of his hands seeping into his skin. The way Richie is looking at him—it’s more observational. Maybe he’d even describe it as clinical. Almost like business as usual, with Richie ignoring his personal space and putting his warm hands all over Shifty, only this time, with the topic of their conversation at hand, Shifty can’t take another second of this one-sided embarrassment.

He shifts, his body morphing and skin swirling until he’s almost entirely human. By the time he’s got his human face on, Richie has realized exactly what kind of position they’re really in. With his eyes still stuck on his, Shifty feels a vicious sense of satisfaction when Richie’s cheeks start to color.

“I—you—”

Shifty lifts his hand up over the back of Richie’s hand—the one that’s still hovering by his face uncertainly. “What was that you were saying about me being handsome?”

Richie’s glasses slip down his nose. He flicks his eyes down, and then the color in his cheeks darkens.

Do I have something on my face? Shifty wonders.

“You’re naked,” Richie squeaks. His hands snap to his face so fast that he basically slaps himself and ends up stumbling back, still trying to cover his eyes from Shifty’s naked form.

Huh, he thinks, looking down at himself. Forgot I was wearing real clothes before.

“Come on, sci-fi, it’s not like you’ve never seen me naked before. I’m naked all the time, in a way.”

“Yeah, but—” Richie turns and peeks out from between his fingers, then whips around again. “That’s different! You’re usually wearing clothes why aren’t you wearing clothes now.”

“They’re usually such a pain that I always morph ‘em, but today I decided, why not try wearing some?” He scratches his chin. “Then I forgot about ‘em.”

Seeing Richie so flustered by his human self when he doesn’t seem to give a damn about a naked alien makes him feel…annoyed isn’t the right world.

“Hey,” Shifty says, stalking up to Richie with his cigarette still in hand. He takes a drag and slides up behind him, wrapping one arm around his waist. Richie jolts with a gasp; Shifty does what he does best and shifts, letting Richie feel the way his body changes, morphing back into his alien self. “You don’t think this part of me is handsome?”

“I’m not answering that question,” Richie says. His ears are red. Shifty feels the oddest urge to bite them.

“Oh, so human me is hot, but not real me.”

“I’m not—you’re not—that’s not what I’m saying!” Richie turns around, fixes his warm eyes on Shifty, and points an accusatory finger at him. “I have to remain impartial. It’s bad enough that you’re all around me at home, being…the way you are—”

Shifty takes a drag. “The way I am?”

“Like that! Just like that. Handsome, cool, mysterious,” Richie starts ticking things off his fingers, to Shifty’s disbelief. “I mean, does smoking even do anything to you? What do your lungs look like?”

“I thought you hated all that stuff?” Shifty asks, ignoring the question.

“Well—” Richie’s flush still hasn’t dissipated. He takes off his glasses and starts cleaning them. “Even I can acknowledge that from an objective standpoint, you’re attractive.”

“You think I’m hot?” Shifty says, meaning it as a tease, but it comes out like a genuine question. Richie looks up at him, all intense as usual, and something in his face shifts.

“Yes,” he admits, face flushed and looking a little shaky on his feet. But his eyes—there’s that glitter; the glamor of intrigue that he always directs at Shifty and anything worth a dime in his mind. “I do.”

Shifty goes to take another drag of his cigarette—he isn’t sure what to say—but his damn hand is shaking and he’s reached the butt end, so he lets his hand fall and stares up at the ceiling instead. “Huh,” he says. “Well, uhm, thanks.”

Richie doesn’t reply; instead, he walks up to Shifty and takes the cigarette butt from his hand and tosses it in the nearby trashcan. He has to reach over to di it, and their fingers brush; it feels electric. Shifty inhales, his heart pounding, and chances a look at Richie.

He’s now staring at him with such an intense look that Shifty wants to laugh. But man—those eyes. Shifty would never say it out loud, but he loves the color of Richie’s eyes. He likes the way he looks at him when he’s taking photos, or when he’s sleepy, or when he’s found something new and exciting to fixate on.

Richie’s hand slides over his. He leans forward, and Shifty leans back on instinct, bracing himself against the desk behind him. He’s so close that Shifty can practically smell the aftershave he uses, even though he’s barely grown a single hair on his chin—

“Richard, dinner’s almost ready!” Richard’s mom calls from the landing leading to Richie’s mini laboratory set up in their basement, cutting straight through the tension and demolishing it.

They separate lightning fast. Shifty morphs into a human (with clothes) on instinct, and Richie’s looking down at the table, his face red.

“Richie? Carrot?” She’ll cycle through all the petnames she can think of if he doesn’t answer soon. “You down there?”

“I’m here!” Richie calls. He glances at Shifty, face full of an unnamed emotion. “I’ll be up soon!”

Once her footsteps fade, he sighs and drags his fingers through his hair. Without his glasses on his face, and with his hair slicked back— Shifty wishes he had something to put in his mouth, keep him from saying something he might regret.

“We had better get up there,” he says lamely, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Before the food gets cold.”

“Yeah, we should…do that.”

They’re quiet for a few minutes, both of them lost in their own thoughts, reluctant to leave this space. Richie’s mom never comes down there, so it’s practically theirs: the two of them. Shifty is still thinking about Richie’s hand on top of his. Humans run so hot, and Richie’s like a furnace running in the high heat of summer.

Goddamn it, he thinks, grinding his teeth. He feels unexpectedly angry, for reasons he can’t explain.

He turns and starts walking towards the stairs, and that’s when he feels Richie take hold of his arm.

“Wait!” Richie cries, stopping him short. “Shifty, wait.”

“What is it, Richie?” he says, without turning. “I’ve got my eyes on your mom’s monthly meatloaf—”

Before he has a chance to say more, Richie grabs him by the labels and yanks him forward, straight onto his mouth. It’s not graceful by any means—Richie’s glasses nearly poke Shifty in the eye, and the angle’s all wrong, but it’s good. Hell, better than good, it’s great.

It’s chase, with no tongue, but Richie pulls away to adjust the angle and nearly trips backwards over his own damn feet, so Shifty ends up being the one to wrap his arms around Richie’s waist and pull him in for another kiss. And another. And then maybe a few more after that, until Richie has his face in his hands again and—god, his mouth is so soft, and his hands are so warm. Shifty could just melt in him. He’s just glad he’s not shifted, ‘cause otherwise he’d be pink up to his eyeballs. Plus, it’s easier to kiss Richie like this.

The series of kisses lasts probably only a minute or so, but it feels like forever. And when they pull away, hell, Shifty’s really glad he’s not shifted, because the look Richie is directing at him could make fireworks light up.

“That was one helluva kiss, Richie,” Shifty manages.

“Your skin,” Richie replies, brushing his thumb across Shifty’s cheek. For a second he’s worried he’s shifted back, or worse—this form now comes in the same shade of pink, too, but when he looks down at himself he can see that speckles of his scales have crept into his skin. They’re probably on his face, just under his eyes.

“Guess I just lost a bit of control for a sec,” Shifty admits, rubbing the back of his neck. Richie’s eyes widen, the look on his face is the same look he gets when he’s filing away important information for later. “Jesus, Richie, not that I’m complaining, but…what was that for?”

“I wanted…well I—I wanted to do that. Kiss you, I mean, even though I’ve never done it before, so it was probably bad—”

Shifty opens his mouth to interrupt and say that it wasn’t, but Richie continues quickly, the flush on his face down to his neck now. Maybe humans can turn completely pink when pressed.

“But I also wanted to say that I’m sorry. Shifty, if I’ve ever made you feel like you’re just a specimen or—or a lab experiment, then that’s not right. You’re more than that.” He takes Shifty’s hand and squeezes, eyes locked on his. “You’re a kind and intelligent and amazing friend, and you’re so beautiful. No matter what form you take.”

Shifty ducks his head. Praise isn’t really his thing; he doesn’t like being the center of that kind of attention, but on the other hand (and literally, he’s holding his hand), Richie has become an important part of his life he’d rather not do without. He likes having him around, even if it’s for his ‘research’.

“Hell,” he says, not sure what else to say. Richie gives Shifty’s hand another squeeze, and the place where they’re touching tingles. Shifty’s heart is still beating fast, and the words he’s been thinking about just slip out of his mouth. “You saying you wanna go steady, or what?”

It’s almost phrased like a joke, and for a minute Shifty wants to take it back, because how is that anyway to ask somebody out? There’s no way Richie would take that and go with it, but when he looks at his face, Richie’s mouth opens, and then his eyes light up.

“Are you seriously asking me?” he asks, and adds hastily after a long pause, “because the answer would be yes. I would. Very much so. If, um, kissing you wasn’t obvious enough.”

“I’m seriously askin’,” Shifty says, then realizes that while Richie gave him a nice little speech, he hasn’t really returned the favor. “You’re a nerd, Richie. There’s no gettin’ around that.”

“Hey—”

“But,” Shifty continues, raising a hand. “That’s how I like you. You’re wicked smart, and you get me, maybe more than anybody else around here. You’re one of my best friends, aside from Buttons, and when you’re in your element you’re pretty damn cool.”

A smile slowly splits across Richie’s face, until he’s grinning from ear to hear. That hand that’s still holding onto Shifty’s tugs him forward. For a second Shifty thinks he might try to kiss him again, but maybe he used up all his confidence when he did it the first time, because all he does is hold his hand and smile.  

Fuck. Shifty clears his throat. “So we gonna eat, or stand here all night?” Not that he would mind.

“Oh! Yeah, my mom’s probably waiting for us. Come on.” Richie pulls him towards the stairs and Shifty goes without protest. They’re still holding hands, and when they reach the ground floor it isn’t until Richie’s mom finds them that he finally let’s go.

“Honey, I’ve been waiting for ages. What were you two doing down there?” She takes in their appearance and the flushed look on Richie’s face. “Carrot, your face is so red. Are you feeling all right?”

Despite the completely innocuous question, Richie’s face makes a complicated expression and he flounders for a response. “Ah— we— I mean I— "

“Science,” Shifty answers smoothly, flinging his arm around Richie’s shoulders. “You know how it is.”

Richie’s mom looks at them, her eyes flicking between the two, and then she claps her hands together. “Oh, don’t I ever! Well, enough science for the night. Let’s eat!”

“Very smooth,” Shifty says to Richie after she’s gone ahead. Richie frowns at him.

“You’re one to talk.” He raises an eyebrow. “’Science?’”

Shifty shrugs. Richie’s frown softens into a soft smile, and before he can metaphorically attack Shifty with his warm eyes, he steals a kiss from Richie’s half-open mouth, grinning when he sputters at him indignantly.

“Come on, sci-fi, meatloaf’s waiting,” he says, letting his hand linger at his lower back, just a while longer.