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adorerdraco · 4 years

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Not My Type (Like You) ✧ Draco x Reader

Request: you should like do a one shot or even another mini series about amortentia/love potions in general. i’d soooo read that

AU SEVENTH YEAR WHERE VOLDY NEVER CAME BACK <3 f**k that mf !

italics are for flashbacks <3 i love them if you couldn’t tell

Warnings: mean!draco, cursing, more mature themes/ideas, little bit of spice towards the end teehee but not too much bc idk how to write smut to save my life

Words: 4.5K

A/N: I saw a tiktok that kinda inspired this and i couldn’t get the idea out of my heaaaad if anyone knows which one im talking ab send it my way so i can show !!!! ALSO I LOVE THIS ONESHOT I LOVE DRACO AND I AM IN MY FEELINGS this might be my new favoriteeeee

Draco Malfoy was insufferable.

The Prince of Slytherin was unbearable for many reasons, things you've been taking notice of since your first year at Hogwarts when you accidentally had the ”pleasure” of interacting with him when he called you stupid in a class for reciting a spell incorrectly. That day, a hostility blossomed. A hostility that ensued nothing but teasing, mocking, and criticizing that would sometimes go too far and you'd both have to be pulled away from each other by your friends’ before either of you said anything excessively harsh that had no return.

You often felt like Malfoy sought you out to bother you and only for that. You could be sitting in the Quad with friends, conversing and laughing like nothing in the world mattered, and a few minutes later you'd be hurling insults towards the blond across the courtyard after he would yell something infuriating to you with that smug smirk on his face and his goons laughing wildly beside him as if he just said the most hilarious thing they've ever heard.

On the days you’d ignore him, not having the patience or the energy to deal with him, he would still somehow find a way to push your buttons. Little things here and there like passing you in the corridors and tugging at the ends of your hair gingerly like a child but enough to tick you off or sending you notes from across the class in the form a small fluttering bird with a lousy drawing of you usually with a message along the lines of, “Y/L/N, hopefully, this note finds itself in the nest of hair you have today xx DM.”

In all honesty, there wasn’t a day you didn’t encounter Draco and it’s been that way for seven long years. Neither of you ever gotten tired of mildly or spitefully bullying each other and neither of you ever dreamed of stopping. He was one of the few constants in your daily life, and you in his. It was like you both lived on annoying the other, and in the midst of all the chaos that you brought to one another; there was a small, teeny, tiny acquaintance - not that either of you would ever admit it. You may have noticed it the time you bet each other ten galleons for who would win in the Triwizard Tournament your fourth year and he bet on Viktor Krum while you on Cedric Diggory. (he’s very much alive i refuse to think otherwise.)

“So you’re telling me, your mother is the reason why you’re not at Durmstrang,” you scoffed. “This whole time I could have been saved four years of headaches.”

“You’re just jealous some of us have more opportunities than others,” he snarks back pompously. “Unlike you, I hardly believe you would be graceful enough to even be considered admission into Beauxbatons.”

You had gone to see the last task of the competition just like the rest of the schools, all packed tightly onto the stands and watching carefully the exit of the maze. Naturally, you had arrived with your own friend groups, but somewhere during the time of sitting there and even being a few rows behind the blond and his minions, the two of you had met in the middle bench after he was trying to prove something wrong to you.

When Cedric appeared back in front of the stands with the glowing Triwizard cup held high over his head in victory and every Hogwarts student loudly celebrating, you had jumped up from your seat and shook wildly an irked Draco beside you. He roughly shrugged your hands off his stiff shoulder, looking up at you with a sneer that you met with a bright beaming smile.

“Pay up, Malfoy!” You held out your hand towards him, opening and closing your fingers to receive the bet money. “I believe it was ten galleons you owe me.”

He begrudgingly reached into his coat pocket and fished out the coins, counting them defeatedly before tossing them into your palm. “What a waste of galleons.”

“Hey, you made the bet,” you reminded him with a still very bright smile. You shoved the money into your pockets, keeping one of the gold coins in between your fingers, and gave him a small hair ruffle that he harshly recoiled from before you turned to jump back up towards the level of stands your friends were originally sitting at.

“Were you really sitting with Malfoy this whole time?” One of your friends questioned when you reached them, a goading smirk on his face.

“Ooooh, she definitely was,” another friend piped up, wiggling her eyebrows. “They’re obsessed with each other.”

“Shut up,” you smack her arm casually, showing the pair the one gold galleon you were holding. “We are not. I was only sitting with him to get my bet money.”

“Sure,” they drawled in unison, sniggering when you threw your head back in annoyance.

You looked down the rows to see the mop of white hair you just sent into disarray. He was slowly descending the stairs of the stands with Crabbe and Goyle following closely behind him. Almost as if he felt your eyes on his back, he turned back to look at you, his cold gray eyes gazing into yours. It was like everything around you went quiet, the only thing in your focus was him and all you could do was stare back. It wasn’t until your friends started stifling laughter and whispering “aww’s” that you snapped out of the short-lived and odd few second trance you were in. He waited for you to do something before he turned back around, and you did - by holding up both hands; the one golden galleon on your left and your middle finger on your right, grinning to yourself when he rolled his eyes throwing you the finger right back before he finally disappeared into the mob of people below.

You were briskly walking down the corridors, books held tightly to your chest with your friend at your side while you made your way to Advanced Potions with Slughorn after Snape finally made his way into the DADA position. It was an easy class, potions being something you had a knack for and it gave you enough leisure to mess with your “favorite” Slytherin who shared it with you.

“Look there goes your boyfriend,” your friend teases, elbowing your upper arm roughly and nodding her head down towards the hall to the tall blond appearing around the corner and entering swiftly into the class.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you hiss. “I’m tired of everyone saying that. I hate him and he hates me, end of story.”

“You know when you say you hate him, it just sounds like the opposite,” she says tauntingly. “Besides, hate is a strong word and very misplaced. Maybe, it’s just years of built-up tension that both of you have been too nervous to do anything about.”

“Tension? Yeah, I want to strangle him,” you laugh to yourself at the thought.

“Not that tension, idiot,” she shakes her head, “I mean sexual tension...clearly.”

You gave her a horrified look mixed between being disgusted and being offended. You held your hand over your mouth and pretended to gag as dramatically as you could. “I am appalled that you would even say that. I would rather be locked in a room with Filch and Peeves and hear them argue and fight all day than to be with Malfoy like that.”

“Come on, think about it,” she encourages, stopping the two of you a little ways away from the classroom. “You guys 'hate' each other?” She finger quotes the hate, looking at you with a raised eyebrow. “When you hate someone, you don’t go out of your way to talk to them every day.”

“It’s not like that,” you wave a hand dismissively. “Also, this isn’t a cliche, this is real life. We hate each other, that is all there is to it.”

You picked up the walk again, your friend to following behind you while letting out a deep and exhausted sigh. You couldn’t help but think about what she said, sure, perhaps at one point you thought Draco was attractive with his bright silver hair, his glittering gray eyes, his little button nose that he would crinkle up every other word he spoke in his charming haughty voice, or the way he’d tower over you in the middle of a conversation gone wrong and he’d be talking lowly to you but all you’d be able to focus on was the sweet scent of apples and cologne that radiated off of him.

“No,” you whispered almost silently to yourself, forcing yourself out of your thoughts and shaking your head from side to side as if it was going to get the image out of your head. He was mean, disrespectful, arrogant, and insulted you daily - even if you both laughed about it or gave props for the perfect jabs.

The first thing your eyes landed on when you walked into the dingy Potions classroom was Draco, his focus trained on the ceiling as if he was deep in thought. Just as his eyes were about to flicker down towards you, and sensing that he was about to, you quickly avoided his gaze and concentrated onto Slughorn who was waiting patiently by his desk with a bubbling cauldron for you and your friend to join the crowd in front of him.

“Great! Now that we’re all here,” Slughorn began excitedly, fixing the sleeves of his robes as he grabbed the ladle in the cauldron and began stirring it while continuing his lecture.

You were trying to listen, capturing only the professor’s last sentence as he called on someone who raised their hand. All attention was thrown out the window when you realized Draco was standing near said classmate, a look of annoyance suddenly clouding his features when his pale eyes met yours.

“What?” He mouthed. You ignored him, trying to turn your concentration back onto Slughorn but nothing he was saying made sense, and right as you caught a word you did understand, a shuffling and an abrupt arm knocking into yours threw you right back out of the loop.

“Watch it,” you snap hushedly when you notice who it is. “Why are you over here?”

“I can’t say hello to my number one fan?” He whispers back, snickering slightly when you scoffed quietly.

“Fan? Says the one who shoved his way through the crowd to come over here,” you grumble, crossing your arms.

“I hardly shoved,” he mutters. “I only moved because I couldn’t see Slughorn from where I was standing. Not everything’s about you.”

“Really? Because to me, it seemed like you came over here for my attention.”

He let out a breathy chuckle, a patronizing smile making its way onto his face. The type of typical boy smile where his mouth is half agape with his tongue smoothing over his teeth as he stared off across the room with his fingertips rubbing thoughtfully against his jawline as he thought of what to say. You stood still as he bent down, nearing his mouth towards your ear and whispering hotly, “you wish, darling.”

Slughorn sent everyone to their paired tables, and as everyone began moving and Draco sauntered off away from you, you stood stuck there, shocked with the lingering chills that were sent down your spine from your archnemesis’ comment.

“I told you, you’re into each other,” your friend sang expectantly from behind you, grabbing onto your sleeve and directing the two of you towards your table.

You were working peacefully at your workspace, cutting up, peeling, and crushing the ingredients that your friend was sliding across the surface to you. In the table behind you was where Draco was working annoyingly quiet, tossing the stripped stems of the roses at you that you had to peel, tiny thorns pricking at your ankles through your socks since the bigger thorns had been taken off for the potion. As payback, you would throw back loose extra pearl dust you ground up, giggling tauntingly when he would frown at you for getting the coarse white powder all over his Italian leather shoes and most definitely inside of them as well.

When you, and seemingly the rest of the class, had finally thrown in all the ingredients and the potion promptly finished brewing, beautiful clouds of white and pink smoke began rising from the cauldrons, each one having a lovely scent of first; freshly pressed high-priced linens, then a faint smell of a brand new racing broom out of a box with a freshly polished wood handle that then quickly transformed into a sweet harvest of apples, green specifically, and finally...

“Ugh, gross,” you pinched your nostrils closed, turning your body around and sending a scowl towards Draco’s way. “Malfoy, we get it, your cologne is expensive, now stop spraying it. I was smelling all these wonderful things and you ruined it.”

He arched an eyebrow at you, looking at you as if you were crazy. “Are you mad? I didn’t spray anything, I think you’ve finally lost it.”

“Well you laid it on too heavy this morning then, it reeks in here.”

“You’re one to talk, Y/L/N. Did you bathe yourself in that dreadful perfume you wear just now? And that ghastly lip shiner thing you use,” He sneers, crinkling up his nose. “I can’t even think straight, I might vomit.”

“Lip shiner? It’s called lip balm, you prat,” you retort, crossing your arms angrily. “Either way, I haven’t used or sprayed anything either so-”

“For Merlin’s sake!” Your friend suddenly exasperated loudly from beside you making you briskly whirl around to look at her, a look of pure annoyance etched onto her face. “Are you two really that daft? Honestly? Have you been paying attention to anything other than each other? For instance, the potion we just made?”

This gained the attention of your classmates around you in the surrounding tables, turning their heads slightly but not obviously with small knowing smirks on their faces while they snickered quietly and listened. It was soundless as you reached towards the book in front of your friend, pulling it painstakingly slow towards you in fear of the words that were written on the open page.

“Amortentia,” you muttered glumly as you read the page, pushing it away from you dejectedly as everything began to click.

“The reason you’re both smelling each other is because you’re what the other desires and is attracted to. Wow, what a revelation! As if the whole school didn’t already know.”

You were afraid to turn around. You could feel the cold and hard pair of eyes burning holes onto your back and the immediate amount of whispers and giggles of the people around you. Luckily, Slughorn was busy at the other end of the room, working diligently with another pair of students who managed to mess up their potion.

“That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard,” Draco announces finally.

“What’s so ridiculous about it?” You questioned, your heart falling to the pit of your stomach when you turned again and took notice of the way his lips were curling upwards as if it was the most disgusting thing he could have ever heard.

“Think about it, Y/L/N,” he deadpans. “Why would I ever desire someone like you?”

There had been occasions over the years when you were in this situation. None as drastic and as revealing, but there would be times when friends and others would poke fun and say the exact same thing your friend told you earlier. The usual, “they got the hots for each other!” and you would always brush it off and joke about how you could never, and he’d do the same. It was always amongst laughs and jokes, but as you looked at the Slytherin in front of you - there wasn’t a hint of amusement on his hardened face.

“Piss off, Malfoy,” you seethed, biting down hard on your lip to refrain from lashing out either in tears or in insults, you couldn’t decide. “If I’m so revolting, leave me alone from now on, I mean it.”

“I never said that,” he argues. “You’re just simply not my type.”

For some eerie, awful reason, the words tore into you like a sharpened knife going easily through butter. You were used to his insults, his mocking, his comments about your appearances - but this hurt, and you couldn’t explain why. You thought, for a second, possibly, that maybe your friend was right. Maybe there was a hidden attraction you had for the platinum blond that you buried deep away and one that he had for you. There was no way that was the case now, not at all.

And for the first time in your life, you couldn’t be more sure of a simple little fact.

You hated him.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

You don’t know how long you spent sitting in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom, back against the cold tiled wall with your knees brought up to your chest. Your friends had tried to console you after the public rejection and humiliation, but their words only made you feel worse. You felt silly for being so bothered about being rejected by Malfoy, he wasn’t exactly someone you fancied, to begin with.

After dinner, you went off the grid and found yourself where you’re now sitting. The ghostly girl flew restlessly around you, popping out of her stall now and then to chat but then going back into her abyss of nothing when she learned you were still upset. You noticed it made her a little too pleased, considering the fact it was always her who was miserably wailing about her problems in the bathroom. She tried to hide it and let you talk to her about how you felt, but she gave terrible advice most of the time.

“Well, if it was me, I would have never started fancying someone who was mean to me,” she mumbled. “Like when Paul Wighorn made fun of my hair for a whole year and laughed when I cried. I hated his guts then and I still do now.”

She had a point, but she was also Myrtle. Nothing about the overly dramatic ghost made sense.

“I don’t fancy him, It’s just weird,” you trail off. “I can’t imagine a day without him, even if he is a complete arse. We always joked about how we hated each other, but I didn’t think he actually meant it, I guess.”

“I think you do fancy him, though,” she whispers knowingly in your ear, making you flinch from her cold draft. “Stop denying it, it’ll only keep making you feel worse. Amortentia doesn’t lie, silly. Maybe when you drink it, but before that, all real feelings are there, whether you know it or not.”

You sat quietly, taking in her words before something came crashing down onto you like a wall of bricks.

“I suppose that means he’ll have to stop denying it too,” she adds thoughtfully.

“Myrtle,” you rush to get up, smoothing your hair down profusely and fixing the wrinkles in your clothes. “You’re a genius.”

“I am?” She asks excitedly. “What did I say?”

You waved her off, giving her another thank you before rushing out of the bathroom and into the empty corridors. You were trying to go back to your dorm to sleep, hoping that when tomorrow came you would be bold enough to confront the Slytherin Prince but it was thirty minutes past curfew, something you didn’t notice until you were bustling down the steps in a rush and came face to face with the man of the hour himself doing his Prefect patrolling duties.

“Go to your dorm, Y/L/N,” he sneers. “I’ll take away house points, don’t test me,”

“I don’t believe you.”

“That I’ll take away house points? Watch me. Five-”

“No, you twat,” you groan, swatting his arm with your hand. “I don’t believe that I’m not your type.”

He stayed wordless for a moment, biting the inside of his cheeks and clenching his jaw as he peered down at you from his lanky height. “Why not?”

“Because I didn’t think you were my type until the amortentia made me aware of it,” you answer quietly. “Actually, my friend had a hand in it, but it was mostly the potion.”

Silence, again. Still and deadly. You could hear the large clocks around the school tick and tock, the hundreds of paintings snoring peacefully or chattering quietly. You avoided looking up at the boy in front of you, all of a sudden feeling small under his gaze until you felt cold fingers brush against your cheekbone and then softly through your hair causing you to finally look up into the soft wandering almost blue eyes.

“I didn’t find out with the amortentia,” he muttered almost reluctantly as if it was the most difficult thing he had to reveal. “I’ve known I’ve liked you for a while.”

“How long is a while?” You curiously wonder aloud.

“I’m not telling,” he smirks. “Perhaps you’ll figure it out one day.”

Both hands came up to rest on your cheeks, slightly cold but soft and tender. It sent chills throughout your body as he took a step closer to you and then closer, backing you carefully into the diagonally ascending stone wall that went in the direction of the stairs. Your breathing was getting uneven, you noticed the way you accidentally switched to manually forcing yourself to inhale and exhale normally when he leaned down with his face now being mere centimeters from yours. It was torture, having your eyes closed and feeling the way his nose was brushing against yours, minty breath warm against your lips as he ghosted over them with his. He was so close, you smelt everything that was in the damn potion that got you here. It sent flutters of warmth down your body, trickling down and seeping deeply into every bone in your body as if this is was the remedy its been needing. This is what you’ve been missing.

When you finally felt a soft pair of lips being pressed into yours, it felt almost unreal that you were there. It was awkward the first couple of seconds, both of you wondering how in the world had you gotten yourselves in this position, but after you relaxed and he found his Prince of Slytherin confidence - it was magic. His lips moved languidly against yours, affectionately and full of longing. He kept his hands on your cheeks, still timid to move anywhere else while you kept yours resting lightly on his sides. It scared you a little, how fast and how easily you melted into each other, like if this was something you’ve been doing with him for years rather than torment the other for laughs.

You hated the feeling when he pulled away, a gust of freezing castle air passing through the space between you and cooling your lips and face from his contact. His hands dropped down to his sides and he looked down at you with a small smile, a teeny bit smug, but happy. You wanted to feel the same way, but a question still loomed over your head, overpowering the giddiness you were vividly feeling.

“Why did you lie earlier?” You question softly, directing your gaze to the floor. “In class, I mean.”

He thought about his answer for a second, sighing deeply when he realized he had to uncover more truths about himself to you. You took a mental observation at that, he didn’t like to talk about feelings. “You didn’t say anything. Didn’t even look at me. I thought I’d beat you to it and reject you before you could reject me.”

“What made you think I’d reject you?” You coaxed. “Other than the fact that I made you a sworn enemy at eleven.”

“Exactly that,” he laughed lightly. “You’re unpredictable, Y/N.”

You smiled to yourself at the realization that he finally used your first name. “So are you, Draco.”

“Not really,” he grins. “Like in just a few moments, for example, I’m going to start snogging you.”

You opened your mouth to encourage him but shut it quickly when he closed the space between the two of you again, this time much closer than he was before. He was flush against you, and when you say you could feel everything; you could feel everything. You were almost begging for him to lean down and kiss you again by the time you felt his hands on you again, running delicately around the exposed skin of your hips when your shirt hiked up an inch on accident. He leaned down again, and with the advantage of his lowered height, you let your hands slide up his arms, biceps, and ultimately the nape of his neck where your fingers continued up into his hair. The breathiest gasp escaped his throat as you tugged at the ends gently, smirking to yourself when he closed his eyes in delight at the touch.

His lips came down onto your fast this time and hastily, pressing himself impossibly closer into you. You could feel his grip tighten against your hips, his hold moving upwards onto your waist as he continued to kiss you fervently. His teeth bit down softly on your bottom lip and you wasted no time in parting them slightly for his tongue to meet yours. You tugged at the platinum strands of hair again, feeling triumphant when a low groaning sound emitted from his throat at the sensation as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss further.

You knew you were done for when one of his hands slowly slid up your upper body, stopping first at your collarbones with warm fingertips fluttering over the skin, before he moved it upwards completely and he now had his large hand wrapped comfortably around your neck. You gasped in delight into the kiss, a swarm of butterflies going directly to your lower stomach as he squeezed against the artery in your neck meticulously, the coldness from his Malfoy family crest ring only adding fuel to the fire. He tore his mouth away from yours with his hand still clutched firmly around your throat and you were almost sent into orbit with the look he was giving you. A look filled with desire, adoration, and intensity - his pale gray eyes were much darker, almost a dark blue that resembled the starry night sky on a summer night.

Lips reattached themselves roughly and feverishly against your jawline, peppering long and tender kisses all the way towards your ear and then down towards your collarbones where he was beginning to undo the rest of the top buttons of your school dress shirt. You felt him smile against your hot skin when you’d writhe underneath him, emitting weak whimpers that you couldn’t hold back that he ended up having to clasp a free hand over your mouth as he whispered into your ear to stay quiet.

It didn’t matter that you were in the middle of a poorly lit corridor where anyone could walk past and see the frenzy that was unfolding, nor did it matter to Draco that his Prefect duties were long forgotten. Your friend was right, and everyone else for that matter; it wasn’t hate you felt for the blond at all, it was years and years of a craving and a hidden yearning packed with displaced tension.

And now, you were both exactly where you wanted to be; together.

8K notes · View notes

write-orflight · 4 years

Text

The Fraction of Innocence.

**Gif Not Mine**

Anon Requested: 10, 16, and 25 for the smutty prompts thing!!!

10: “were you just touching yourself?” ‘yeah, what are you donna do about it?’

16: “the only way you are gonna get off is on my thigh.”

25: “she may be all lollipops and candy bars, but I bet behind closed doors she’s hand cuffs and gags.”

Pairings: SpencerXReader

Rating: M, (This is very explicit.)

Words: 4K

Warnings: NSFW!!! 18+ (Dom!Spencer, BDSM overtones, sexual conduct, fingering, bondage, etc.)

Request: OPEN/CLOSED

Summary: Spencer thinks Y/N is an innocent, naive girl until a case reveals her extracurricular activities.

Spencer had been back from jail for 2 months when he first met her.

At first he didn’t think anything of her, other than the faint smell of vanilla and daisy as she walked past him in the bullpen and the bright smile that seemed to take up half her face. She was carrying files close to her chest like a schoolgirl late to class and the skirt of her white dress bellowed softly behind her as she made her way to Emily’s office.

“Who is that?” He had asked.

Luke looked up to where Spencer’s gaze was. “Oh, that’s Y/N, she's a tech analyst helping Penelope out right now. She’s sweet, you’ll like her.”

It doesn’t take Spencer long after that to decide he, in fact, does not like you. There was nothing wrong with you. Luke was right, you were sweet, almost sickeningly so. It was like you had no concept of reality. You lived in this world of all sunshine and good things despite the horror that crossed your screen daily. And while Penelope was the same, she at the very least knew how bad the world could be and chose to see the good in it. You didn’t, it was like you’d never had a single bad thing happen to you. And Spencer, who had been dealt the bad hand so many times in life hated that.

It also didn’t help that you were gorgeous too. You looked like an artist sculpted you himself to make the perfect woman. Real People weren’t supposed to look like that. Real people were supposed to have flaws and blisters. Real people were supposed to look tired so early in the morning not fully awake and smiling while handing everyone in the office a coffee. He didn’t understand how you could be real.

“Here you go, Spencer. Americano lots of sugar.” You said, placing the coffee on his desk.

“Thank you.” He mumbles.

“We have a case, by the way.” You giggle, going off to hand Luke his coffee before walking away to the conference room. Spencer was barely able to keep his eye roll at bay.

Luke sees that and laughs, clapping Spencer on the back. “Come on, kid. Play nice.”

“She’s giggling about a murder case.” Spencer grumbles before following him into the conference room.

“3 women have been murdered in Queens. Judging by the scars, they were all bound and strangled before finally being dumped in an alley.” Garcia says, as she goes through the slides, showing the crime scenes. “Police need our help finding the connection between these three women because right now, it looks like there is none.”

“I’d say.” Tara speaks up. “We have a waitress/student, a doctor, and a paralegal. All living in different areas of the city with virtually no reason to interact.”

Spencer looks down at his file, examining the picture when he notices something. Just as he opens his mouth to say something, you clear your throat.

“Umm, Emily?” You say from your seat right across from Spencer. Emily looks up inquisitively at you. “I think I know what connects them.”

“What’s that, Y/N?” Emily asks, raising a brow at her.

You clear your throat again. “Victim #2, Rebecca Belfront, has a Padlock collar necklace on in her second picture. That’s typically used to indicate she’s a submissive with a committed dominant partner. But she wasn’t wearing it when her body was found which makes me think that that relationship recently ended. That made me look at the marks on their arms. While there are some new ones from the murders, they all have faded marks around the wrist and body as well. Leads me to believe the bounding was er-... consensual. We should probably look into New York’s BDSM scene.” You close, smiling awkwardly.

Spencer looks at you in shock. He, of course, had come to the same conclusion you did and had been about to say that but he, at least, knew why he knew that. Why did you know that?

Emily hummed thoughtfully. “It’s worth looking into. Do you mind coming to NY with us? Your insight might be needed.”

You look kind of shocked at that but nod. “Of course, whatever I can do to help.” You say, softly.

“Great, Wheels up in 30.” She says, getting up, effectively ending the meet. Spencer watches you speed after her, files in hand to ask some more questions. Spencer’s walking back to his desk when Luke catches up with him.

“Y/N has a dark side. Who knew?” He says, smirking.

“Probably not.” Spencer muses. “She could’ve just known that. I mean, I just know stuff sometimes too.”

“Nah, I don’t think so. Her body language gave her away. She was flushing and stuttering sure, but she was confident in what she was saying. Almost as if, she was speaking from experience.” Luke laughs. “She may be all lollipops and candy bars here, but I bet behind closed doors, she’s handcuffs and gags.”

Spencer hums. “Maybe.” He says looking up to watch you walk back across the catwalk from Prentiss’ office. Luke was right though, your body language did give you completely away that you were talking from experience. Spencer couldn’t help but wonder just how much.

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

When you arrive in New York, You head straight from the jet to the Police Station in Queens. You fiddle with your thumbs a bit, you are nervous.

“You ok?” Spencer says, from his spot in front of the bulletin board he was setting up. You were supposed to be helping him but you knew Spencer was particular about some things so you let him do it. In fact, there were a lot of things you’d let Spencer do. With you, to you, you weren’t picky. The man was gorgeous enough to make you nervous. With his lean muscles, long, fluffy hair, and large hands, he looked like something that walked right out of a wet dream of yours. Which sometimes, he was just that. You weren’t stupid though, you knew Spencer didn’t think of you that way. In fact, you didn’t think Spencer thought of you in any way. He seemed to ignore you anyway he could.

You look up from your laptop. “Oh yea, I’m fine. I’m just...nervous. I’ve never been in the field.”

“Chances are you won’t be, Emily will probably keep you in the Station if she can help it.” Spencer provides.

“I know, it’s just-- you know what I mean.” You say, Spencer nods before returning to the bulletin board. You stand to look at the map with him. “So, from what I was able to find there’s only 3 BDSM clubs in Queens but there’s only one in the middle of where the three women were found. Place called Cat’s Cradle.”

Spencer hums. “How complicated and unpredictable the machinery of life really is.” You look up at the man, recognizing the quote.

“There is love enough in this world for everybody, if people will just look.” You say back, shrugging.

“You read Vonnegut?” He asks.

“You said that like you’re more surprised that I can read than what I read being Vonnegut.” You say, Spencer shrugs not even denying it. God, he was such a dick sometimes. A hot dick, but a dick nonetheless.

The two of you turn when you hear a knock at the door to see the lead detective coming in to check on you guys. “Just wanted to see how things were coming along. Also see if you guys needed anything?” Though he only directed the question at you with a sly smirk on his face. Men were so obvious sometimes.

“Nope, we’re fine.” You smile although you didn’t want to. “We’ve narrowed down to a couple BDSM clubs so hopefully we’ll catch our guy soon.”

“Wait, you think these girls were…” He trails off. You nod, knowing what he was thinking. “Well, it probably serves them right.”

“Excuse me?” You say.

“Listen, I know what kind of girls go into those kinds of clubs. If they want to be sexual deviants, they can’t be surprised when shit like this happens to them.” He gestures to the board.

“Actually more women are into Dominant/Submissive as well as BDSM relationships than you would think, statistically 85%.” Spencer cuts him off. “These clubs are just commonplace for them to meet like minded people just like you would do in any other club and they should be put on trial after their deaths for trusting the wrong person. If you don’t mind, we’d like to get back to work, Detective.” He says, turning back towards the board. The man nods and leaves shortly after that.

“Thank you.” You say, softly.

“What for?” Spencer asks.

“Come on, I work with profilers and I’m not stupid. I know you guys know about me so thank you for defending me just now.”

“I wasn’t defending you.” Spencer says. “He was making inappropriate comments about victims and we don’t need that outdated way of thinking working on this case. Besides…” He says, eyes flickering down to your lips and back to your eyes. “You’re not the only one with… unconventional extracurriculars.” He turns and walks out after that leaving you watching after him.

What?

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

After delivering the profile, you find the Unsub, a man named Ivan Parke. The only thing left to do was find the best way to snuff him out. When the team is discussing the next best course of action. It’s then Luke comes up with the idea.

“We should send Y/N undercover.” He says. “She knows the profile and knows the most about the scene.”

Emily nods. “Is that something you’re comfortable with, Y/N.”

You look up. “Oh, um yea. I’d have to find a different outfit but you have to send someone with me.” You say, everyone looks at you confused so you sigh and explain yourself. “If you send me into a club like this, in a foreign place with no Dom, the Unsub isn’t going to be my only worry. Someone’s going to have to play my dominant.”

“I’ll do it.” Spencer speaks up. Your eyes widened, you were not expecting Spencer to agree to it, you assumed you’d be stuck with Luke. Now you’re going to have to spend the night with the man you’d been crushing on since you started working with the BAU as his submissive. Like that wasn’t a dream come true.

“Great.” Emily says, dismissing everyone and handing you an expense credit card for an outfit. You take it and leave immediately, ignoring the sly look Spencer gives you.

You ended with a short, low-cut black leather dress with tank-like sleeves that showed off your curves and left very little to the imagination. As well as a clear pair of platform heels. You pulled your hair back into a sleek ponytail and you topped the look with your own personal leather choker with a large circle knob in the center. It was one of your favorite pieces to wear though you never really got a chance to wear it unless you were going to clubs, which you didn’t do as often these days. It was an expensive piece sure, but so worth it when you got to wear it. You were doing your makeup a little darker then you usually do in the bathroom when Spencer comes in.

“Is this how you typically look on the weekends?” He asks, standing behind you in the mirror. You look up to look him in the eyes through it.

“If I have the time.” You shrug.

“It’s very different. You’re very different from how I thought you were.”

“And how did you think I was, Spencer?”

“Naive...innocent.”

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t have assumed anything about me.” You say, turning towards the man.

“Maybe you’re right… That’s an expensive piece.” He points out pointing to your choker. “Emily’s going to have fun explaining that at the next budgetary hearing.”

“I didn’t buy it today.” You explain. “It’s mine.”

Spencer hums for a moment before lifting his hand to turn your jaw, examining the piece. You can’t help the way your breath hitches at the contact. Spencer was already so close to you and now he was touching you, it was already starting to be too much. Soon, Spencer is hooking two fingers into the circle knob of your choker and he yanks it. Involuntarily, a whimper falls from your lips, prompting a smirk from the man across from you.

“Tonight’s going to be fun.” He says before leaving you in the bathroom in a state of shock.

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

After getting your comms set up by Luke, who tried to avert his eyes from your frame as much as possible, you and Spencer walk into the Cat’s Cradle. Typically you didn’t like the club scene, but you sometimes liked to venture out when looking for a new partner. Cat’s Cradle was definitely different than the other places you had been. Sure it still had the private rooms and the main stage where a scene was happening in front of you but it was a lot more laid back than the ones you went to in DC. Spencer was really enjoying his role too. Probably hamming it up too much because he knew there was a part of you that actually wanted him to. In the end, finding Ivan Parke was easy. He took the bait almost instantly and you were arresting him just as fast.

“Great work tonight guys.” Emily says, when you reach the hotel lobby. “Jet’s leaving at 7AM so make sure to get some rest.” She says, dismissing you.

Now begged a tricky situation because you had almost forgotten you and Spencer were rooming together. As you walked back to the room together the air was thick but both of you were silent. The tension had been building between the two of you since he yanked your choker in the station bathroom. You knew it was a matter of time. The dam had to break.

“You can shower first.” Spencer says. You nod, taking off your choker and grabbing clothes before taking solace in the bathroom. You wanted Spencer and you knew you needed to expedite this. After a much needed shower, you change into your pajama shorts and tank combo. Spencer steps into the shower almost as soon as you leave it. It’s then that you think of the perfect plan. You lay on the bed and spread your legs before slipping a hand down your shorts. You tease yourself at first, rubbing your clit through your underwear while you thought about the events of the night. How Spencer had been so authoritative. How his hand slid to the small of your back and sometimes ghosted your ass as the two of you walked around the club. How he had been so close in the bathroom. The way he yanked you closer. A small moan escaped you as you slid your hand in your underwear. Soon you hear the bathroom door open. Spencer stops short, watching you before leaning on the frame.

“Were you just touching yourself?”

“Yes.” You answer. “Are you gonna to do something about it?”

“Should I? Instead of telling me what you want you decide to act like a brat and do this.”

Spencer moves closer to the bed but doesn’t do anything, just continues to watch you so you decide to give him a show. Moaning loudly as you slide a digit inside of you. Spencer looks at you with hooded eyes. You can’t help the small laugh that leaves you.

“I think you’re going to give me what I want.” You say, smirking.

“And why’s that?” He says.

“You’re already weak.” You say.

“I’m weak, pretty girl?” He asks, incredulously. Before you know it, he’s ripping your hand out of your pants and crowding in the space between your legs forcing you to sit up and look at him. “You’re in here touching yourself to the thought of me like a horny teenager and I’m the one who’s weak? Ok.” He sits back and pulls you by your hips to sit on top of his lap, your legs straddling one of his thighs. “The only way you’re getting off is on my thigh, ok?” He tells you, starting to move your hips. You moan, nodding your head as the friction makes its way through your core. Spencer lifts your shirt off you and smirks when his eyes land on your bare breast. He leans forward to catch your left nipple in his mouth. Your back arches as you grind harder against his thigh. Your hands fly up to start unbuttoning his shirt when he stops you.

“Did I say you could touch yet, princess?” He asks.

“N-No, sir.” You stutter.

“Then keep your hands to yourself.” He says, putting your hands back to your side. He does indulge you by taking his shirt off himself. But that doesn’t help you keep your hands to yourself. You saw the lean muscle and craved to mark it up with your nails. Your hands go up to touch him again but he stops you.

“If I have to ask you again, I’m going to tie you up, Princess. Just be good, baby.”

You were already close before but now with Spencer’s hands and mouth everywhere and constant friction on your sex it was damn near pushing you off the edge.

“I’m gonna come.” You tell him, he grips your hips tighter, lifting his leg slightly so he was only rubbing against your clit. That makes you moan out loudly.

“Go ahead, Princess. Cum for me.” He says, and that was all you needed to fall right over the edge. Your legs shake and convulse as Spencer grips your hips help you ride it out. Soon you come down panting and he’s kissing into your neck. He pulls back and grips your jaw.

“Still think I’m weak, Princess?” He asks.

You knew it was unwise. In fact, you tried to stop yourself before you did it but it was too late. You reared your hand back and slapped Spencer across the cheek. Not hard enough to be seen as anything malicious but sharp enough to throw him off, like he couldn’t believe you had done it.

“Yes I do.” You say looking him in the eyes after. Something like a switch went off because there was no other way to describe the look he gave you other than feral and fully primitive. He pushes you off him.

“Get on your hands and knees, now.” He says, menacingly. You scramble and run to get into the position. Once in, Spencer forces your knees further apart. He angrily takes his belt off his pants before fashioning them into a makeshift cuff and pulling your wrist so they’re tied behind your back, leaving you face down into the mattress. He slides your shorts and underwear off in one go. You yelp loudly when the first slap comes to your behind. When the second and third slap comes, you try to squeeze your legs together to get some form of friction but Spencer forces your knees further apart. You moan out when you feel a digit slide against your folds. You try to push back on it but Spencer holds your hips in place.

“P-Please.” you stutter.

“What do you want, Princess?” He says, sliding a second digit inside you making you cry out more.

“Please, fuck me, Spencer.” You say, and you really didn’t have to ask twice because almost as soon as you ask Spencer’s hands leave you to finish unbuckling his pants. There’s a brief moment of calm, so calm that you almost think Spencer wasn’t going to give you what you want but that calm is interrupted by Spencer slamming into, no warning. You scream out but that’s only rewarded with your head being shoved more into the mattress to muffle your cries. Spencer’s hands are pulling on your cuffs so he is almost impossibly deep inside you. You moans start to get louder and louder. Suddenly, Spencer is pulling you up so you’re both sitting up, your back against his chest. One of his hands slides to grip around your neck while the other is moving to circle your clit. The hand around your neck tilts your jaw back so you’re looking up at the man behind you.

“Fuck, you feel so good. Open your mouth, Princess.” He orders, which you do instantly sticking your tongue out. Spencer leans forward and spits into your waiting mouth before locking his mouth with yours. His hand squeezes your neck tighter as you moan into his mouth as he starts fucking you faster, his dick hitting your g-spot almost every thrust. It’s not long before you’re just babbling, not even able to string a coherent sentence together.

“You gonna come for me, Princess?” He asks. You nod, moaning loudly. At this point, you knew there was no way the person in the room next to you guys didn’t hear you. You could only hope that it wasn’t one of the team. “Go ahead for me, baby. Be a good girl and come on my cock.” After that, it doesn’t take long before you’re falling over the edge, shaking all the while. Spencer fucks you through it before tightening his grip on your hips to bend you back forwards so your face is back on the mattress. He fucks you hard and fast before falling over the edge himself, moaning your name.

The two of you say nothing as he unties you. When he does, you instantly flop down on your back, breathing heavily. Spencer wordlessly gets up and goes to the bathroom. For a moment you think he’s just leaving you like this, that you were foolish to think Spencer cared anything about you but in that moment he comes back with a wet cloth and ointment. He says nothing as he wipes between your legs before tossing the towel aside. You watch him with a smirk on your face as he rubs the ointment on the red marks the red cuffs made on you.

He looks you in the eye. “What, Y/N?”

“What happened to Princess?” You say, Spencer just looks at you with a bored expression which only makes you smile more. “Now’s probably a good time for you to ask me to dinner.”

Spencer chuckles lightly at that. “You don’t want to go to dinner with me.”

“I’m almost positive I do. Why would you say that?” You ask.

Spencer looks you in the eyes at that moment. “I’m not-Y/N, I’m not like you.”

“Like me?”

“I’m not able to be cheery and smiley. I can’t float into rooms. I can’t be happy like you are, too much has happened to me. You deserve someone happy.”

“Spencer.” You say, looking him in the eyes. “You are not broken. You can be happy, it’s going to take time sure but I’m willing to be with you through that. If you want that.” You say.

Spencer nods. “Ok, Y/N.” he smiles.

“So….?”

He rolls his eyes at that. “What’re you doing next sunday?”

You smile, brightly. “Absolutely nothing.”

Perm. Taglist: @moonshinerbynight @crimeshowtrash

#spencer x reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer x reader smut #spencer reid x you #spencer x you #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid smut #spencer reid #bau x reader #criminal minds smut #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

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shemarmooresfedora · 3 years

Text

Menagerie

Summary Quote: “Don’t you get it? It’s all been a lie, Spence. Since the moment we met, our entire relationship has been founded on a carefully crafted lie and since then, we have been tricked into thinking this was love...but maybe that was a lie too.”

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader

Genre: Angst with happy ending, Fluff

A/N: this fic has already been completed! it’s 25 chapters and just over 40,000 words. i don’t plan on posting all the chapters on to here but i have included the first two and the ao3 link to the rest is at the bottom if you are interested!

Chapter 1

You woke up from your peaceful slumber to hear a loud crash followed closely by someone yelling “FBI”. You screamed, alerting the agents of your presence thinking you were in danger but once the agents had reached your bedroom, you were being put in handcuffs and read your rights.

“W-What is happening? Is this some sort of sick joke?” you stuttered.

“Do you think killing three men is a sick joke?” the muscular intimidating agent spat back.

You were in utter shock. You barely even left the house let alone go out on a murderous rampage.

“I-I don’t know what you think I did b-but I can assure you I-I didn’t kill anyone or do anything illegal,” you tried to stay as calm as possible but you were shaking profusely.

The other agent that was the back-up in your apprehension seemed to notice this and took some sympathy on you by lightening his grip on your cuffs as he led you out of your front door that had been kicked down.

You sat in the chilly interrogation room wishing you had something else on rather than a thrifted oversized t-shirt with stains on it that said “Best Dad Ever” and sweatpants. They removed your handcuffs, I guess you weren't considered that much of a threat in a locked room in FBI Headquarters. Although you could not see past the one-sided glass, it was obvious the agents from before and possibly others from their team were standing on the other side, observing you.

“Well she is definitely not what I was expecting,” Prentiss was the first to break the silence as the whole BAU team watched you through the glass.

“She was sleeping when we apprehended her. Her facial expressions and body language showed clear signs of distress but I can not be certain if it was because we have the wrong person or she is scared she finally got caught. In her apartment, we found nothing in the slightest bit incriminating, mostly just lots of books,” Spencer spoke, while he was trying to remain impartial, he had admired your taste in literature as he was looking for evidence.

“I’m not convinced. I think this is whole ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about’ thing is an act,” Morgan stated as he strolled to the door leading to the room you were being held in.

The door opened and your eyes flickered up. Much to my dismay, it was the muscular agent rather than the tall, lanky agent who seemed a lot friendlier to you, given the circumstances.

He took the seat across from you and spoke firmly, “I am ready to take your confession whenever you are.”

At this point, you were just getting frustrated. You were ripped from your bed in the middle of the night given no explanation other than you had supposedly killed three men and he had the audacity to ask for your confession to something no one would even tell you the details of. So against your better judgment, you opened your mouth which has been known to get you in trouble from time to time.

“Well, considering no one has even told me what I am formally being accused of or the details, I can’t do that. Do you even have any evidence to keep me here? Oh wait...you don’t...that’s why you need a confession because all your evidence so far has been circumstantial. Only too bad for you...I know my rights. So, you have forty-eight hours to find some real evidence against me, that doesn’t exist if I may add, before you have to let me go.”

The agent looked back at the glass with his jaw dropped.

“I watch a lot of crime TV shows,” you huffed and crossed your arms.

“Okay this may be harder than we originally planned, folks. We are going to need everyone on call for the next forty-eight hours until we find some incriminating evidence,” Hotch spoke.

The agents began to depart from the room to review old case files and dig deeper into your personal history. Spencer stayed back for a few minutes and saw tears start to roll down your face when you thought no one was still watching you. You quickly wiped them away and wringed your fingers together. Spencer didn’t know if he should or not yet but he felt bad for you.

Chapter 2

The door opened again but this time, you just kept your eyes down at the table so the person could not see your watery eyes.

You have been trying to put up a brave face but every time, a different agent comes in to question you about your routine, friends, family, and personal life, you just feel exposed.

Traces of your DNA had been found on the bodies and they had all visited your bookstore but that wasn’t enough to convict you I guess. You didn’t know the victims personally but you still felt bad for them.

A cup of coffee was placed gently into your line of sight. You wrapped your hands around the warm paper cup and mumbled your thanks.

“I didn’t know how you liked it. I can add more creamer or sugar if you like,” the voice spoke.

You glanced up tentatively and it was the tall, lanky agent. Your lips turned up ever so slightly into a small smile but it was the most you could manage at the moment. You took a sip.

“No it’s fine, thank you. It really helps. I appreciate it,” you said.

“I’m Spencer, by the way”

“Y/N, but you probably already know that by now.”

He chuckled at your joke. Silence filled the room once again.

“I didn’t do it, Spencer...and I know I can’t really prove that but I wish I could. Most of my friends live in another state and so does my family so I don’t go out too often. I don’t have a boyfriend. I own a bookstore so I spend most of my time there. I don’t really know why this is happening to me,” you started to get choked up again so you stopped talking.

Spencer involuntarily blushed when you stated you didn’t have a boyfriend.

He really needed to get it together as much as he wanted to believe you.

You could be a murderer for all he knows...but a really pretty murderer with a great taste in literature and probably even a bigger collection of books than him.

Stop it, Spencer, get your head in the game. He smiled softly once more at you cradling your drink and exited the room.

The forty-eight hours were up. They had nothing solid against you. If anything, the team had less of a case against you.

The bodies were all dumped on the opposite side of town from where you lived but it was clear they had been transported there. Garcia’s digging showed you had no car and you weren’t lying when you said most of your friends and family live out of state so the chances of you borrowing someone else's car were unlikely.

Credit card receipts showed you hardly ever went to that side of town and they had profiled the unsub would know the area well.

The victims did come into your store a few times but they also visited all the shops on that street occasionally as well. It didn’t make sense for you to kill your customers. That would just be bad for business and easily linked back to you.

The team agreed that they believed Y/N was no longer a suspect.

An officer drove you back to your apartment where luckily, your door had been fixed.

You ordered takeout and took a shower to hopefully rid yourself of the stress of the past two days. Shortly after your dinner, you fell asleep hoping your door would not be busted down again by the FBI.

A few days had past and you were opening up the store for the morning. You were in the back organizing the nonfiction section when you heard the soft bell chime of the door opening.

You walked to the front expecting to greet one of your regulars. Once you saw who was standing shyly at the front desk, you stopped in your tracks.

“Spencer?”

“Uh h-hi-hello Y/N. How are you?”

“Good...unless you are here to bring me back in for more questioning”, you said half-joking half-seriously.

“Oh! Um no, you’re all set. I am truly sorry about that. But I do have a question for you”, he was nervously wringing his hands just like you do, looking anywhere but your eyes.

“It’s okay kind of sounds like the wrong thing to say because I would preferably not be dragged out of my bed in the middle of the night and then held for forty-hours but I understand, you were simply doing your job. Anyways, ask away,” you replied.

His eyes finally made contact with yours and he opened his mouth like he was about to say something but completely lost his confidence.

“Do you...um do you...do you have a nonfiction section?” Spencer blurted out.

You didn’t understand how the nonfiction section could make someone so nervous. He looked as if he was going to say something else but thought better of it.

“Of course! I was just organizing it! Right this way!” you chirped with a smile that seemed to untense his shoulders just a little bit.

Spencer perused the section a bit before deciding on a hefty book about the different plants and flowers native to the East Coast. When he made his way up to the front desk to check out, you praised his choice.

“Aw! I love reading about plants. I have some many succulents in my apartment. It's honestly more of a jungle. Have you ever seen forget-me-nots? So lovely!”

Spencer smiled and nodded, knowing if he tried to speak it would be gibberish because he could not focus on anything when he was looking at your radiant smile.

“Did you do it?”, Morgan asked as Spencer entered the bullpen with a brown bag.

“No but now I have a book on plants and flowers. I actually am excited to read it. Did you know that some plants like orchids do not require soil to grow they get their nutrients from-”

“You chickened out”, Derek sighed.

“She is so pretty! She was just standing there in all her radiance smiling at me and I couldn’t take the rejection. We dragged her out of her bed and put her in handcuffs only to find out two days later, she is innocent. I can hardly believe she is still being nice to me despite it.”

“Well believe it or not, the first night I met a girl, she was in handcuffs in her bed with me so it’s not always a bad thing,” Morgan smirked.

“Not appropriate, Morgan,” Spencer scolded.

“What are we talking about? I don’t like to not be included in the gossip!” Garcia ran over in her pink heels with Prentiss right behind her.

“Pretty Ricky here went to visit Y/N at her bookstore but then chickened out about asking her on a date,” Morgan informed them.

“Awwwww! I like her! She’s so pretty! Plus, I have already done a background search on her and she is squeaky clean now that we have proven she isn’t a murderer,” Garcia excitedly rambled.

Prentiss was nodding her head in agreement, grinning at Spencer.

Spencer had already chugged his morning cup of coffee during this conversation just to have an excuse to go get another cup and leave this conversation.

“You can’t run away from your feelings, Boy Wonder!” Garcia shouted.

Chapters 3-25

#spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #cm fanfic #reid x reader #spencer x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds

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winterscaptain · 4 years

Text

the pleasures of the elder.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader

a/n: the people have spoken, and they all love sean hotchner. this fits after mean it in the joyful future universe, but no context is actually required to enjoy a little bit of sibling rivalry. title comes from jane austen’s quote: “the younger brother must help to pay for the pleasures of the elder.”

words: 3k warnings: language, alcohol use, sex mention, jealous!aaron, perceptive!sean

summary: when he arrives for an impromptu visit, sean knows his brother too well to give him any moment’s peace - especially when it comes to you.

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | requests closed

A man, both very handsome and vaguely familiar, pushes through the glass doors and walks across the bullpen - a visitor's badge pinned proudly to his leather jacket. You try to place him, but come up short.

You’re alone, for the time being. Almost everyone is off running some kind of last-minute errand around the federal building - making copies, finishing paperwork, or in a meeting (in Hotch’s case). It’s the last dregs of the day, the sun setting over the river.

The man stops in front of your desk. “Hi. Are you part of the BAU, or am in the wrong place?” His eyes are bright, roaming over your face with a kind of curious, warm, knowing air.

You smile at him, and before you can answer -

“Sean!” JJ’s fond tone carries across the bullpen, and she arrives with an armful of cases.

Sean?

Oh my god.

Sean Hotchner.

“Hey, JJ, right?”

She laughs, sounding a little younger than she is. You can’t blame her. Sean is exceedingly handsome in an entirely different direction than his older brother. And if your memory serves correctly, just a year older than you. “Yeah, that’s right. Good to see you.” He offers her a hand, and she shifts her files to take it. His handshake is firm, and lasts just a moment too long.

You kick back in your chair, almost inviting him to lean against your desk. “Hotch is in a meeting, if you’re looking for him. He should be out in,” you check your watch, “about five minutes.”

Sean turns back to you, his shockingly blue eyes meeting yours. “Thanks.” He smiles at you again, and you’d be lying if you said your heart was doing normal things in your chest. “Sean Hotchner. I’m Aaron’s - sorry, Hotch’s - little brother.”

Those eyes are dangerous.

Oh, poor Aaron.

You shake his hand and introduce yourself. “Pleasure’s all mine, I’m sure.”

Just as you suspected moments ago, he takes the initiative and leans against your desk. JJ hovers nearby, a little smile on her face. You watch as she sends a quick text, and puts her phone back on her belt.

Gotta tell the girls...

“So,” he starts, brisk and businesslike, “you definitely weren’t here during my last visit. What’s your story?”

“Well, if you must know -“

“I must.” He flashes you another smile, and you can only imagine all the trouble he caused growing up. Or, rather, you can imagine all the trouble he would have caused if his brother wasn’t around to bail him out. Five years ago, you would have been drawn into his pretty eyes and wide smile. Now, you can only see a boyish, overt, almost-inelegant version of the understated warmth you love in Aaron.

You give him a quick rundown of your history: hometown, alma mater, etc. “- I was an academy grad in 2007, and I’ve been here ever since.”

“Ah, so not a newbie anymore. And you’ve worked with my brother the whole time?” He almost looks impressed. His glance down to your ringless left hand doesn’t escape your notice.

Oh Sean, if only you knew.

You nod. “Yeah, I’ve worked under Hotch for five years now.”

And I’ve worked over him for about three months. Also under him, around him, on the couch, in the kitchen, etc.

Shut up.

C’mon. It’s funny.

A low whistle leaves him as you bite back a smile. “Damn. I’m so sorry. He’s a real hardass.”

You lean in conspiratorially, and you’re almost cheek-to-cheek as he leans down to listen. “You know, that’s what I hear, but -”

Penelope bursts through the doors and calls your name, carrying an armful of papers that have absolutely nothing to do with the work going on upstairs. Emily is close behind her, an amused grin on her face.

Sean leans back so you can finally see her. “Yeah?”

“I have these for - Oh, hi Sean!” She says it like she hasn’t already decided her primary objective is to get his attention.

“Hey!” He looks over at her, one finger up to stop her in her tracks. “Wait, don’t tell me. Garcia, right?”

“Penelope,” JJ supplies helpfully.

“That’s right. It’s good to see you again.” He offers her his hand, and she takes it. You’re almost certain he winks at her, and she smiles through the blush rising on her cheeks.

He really is a heartbreaker, huh?

Aaron must have had his work cut out for him.

Derek rounds the corner and immediately rolls his eyes at the scene before him. Sean has his body angled toward you (in your chair, completely open, with your chin in your hand) while he shakes Penelope’s hand. JJ pretends to do work off at her desk behind yours, but she’s completely tuned into the conversation. Emily’s sitting on her own desk off to the side, watching the whole thing with a certain degree of good humor.

“Sean, good to see you, man.” Derek walks over and takes Penelope under his arm. It’s almost possessive, and you almost laugh.

Sean releases Penelope’s hand and takes Derek’s. “Hey, Morgan. How’ve you been?”

Their bro-to-bro catch-up fades into the background as you see Hotch appear on the breezeway by his office. You look up at him before pointedly glancing at Sean beside you. He sighs, then calls, “Sean.”

The man in question turns, and a smile breaks out over his face when he sees his brother. There’s something cocky about it, and you don’t miss the way his body language remains keyed into you as he speaks. “That’s my name, don’t wear it out.”

Aaron takes another deep breath and walks down the stairs. “What are you doing here?”

“Can’t I just come see my big brother at work?”

Aaron’s eyebrow is dubious at best. “What do you need?”

Sean laughs, and it reminds you enough of Aaron’s that it draws a wide smile from you. You find yourself looking fondly up at Sean, seeing more of the resemblance now that they’re beside each other. Aaron’s jaw flexes. You notice.

Oh, see, now this is fun.

“I was just in town and figured I’d stop by to see if you were here or out on a case.” Sean glances down at you with another charming smile before looking back at his brother. “I guess I got lucky.”

He’s just full of those smiles, isn’t he?

JJ jumps in. “We’re actually planning on going out to drinks once we wrap up in a couple of minutes. You’re more than welcome to come.”

While JJ pulls attention elsewhere, you glance up at Hotch and throw him a wink. Hey. Relax.

His jaw relaxes just a touch, and his lips twitch. As usual, he covers it by crossing his arms over his chest. Don’t be a shit.

You wet your lips and purse them a little. Nice try.

He shifts, just a little, raising an eyebrow. You’re really gonna go there?”

Watch this. You toss him a quick smile. “That would be great!” You brush Sean’s sleeve as you unnecessarily reach over him for Penelope. “What do you think, Pen?”

“Oh, we’d love that!” Penelope takes your hand, squeezes it, and looks up at Derek. “Wouldn’t we?”

Derek nods. “We’d love to have you, man. It’ll be good to hear what you’ve been up to in New York.”

Aaron does his best to suppress his eye roll. You’re lucky he loves you, childish antics and all.

+++

When you split up into your respective cars, Sean elects to ride with you over his brother. You and Hotch play the role of designated drivers. You’ve fallen into the routine, finding it's much easier to sneak around your coworkers as they get more and more inebriated through the evening.

Aaron doesn’t look too happy with the ride arrangements, but he lets it slide. Dave and Emily ride with him, while you have Derek, Penelope, and JJ in the car with you and Sean.

It’s not that he doesn’t trust you. He doesn’t trust Sean.

Logically, he doesn’t have anything to worry about. He woke up this morning to your patient, adoring eyes and your hands playing with his hair. You ate breakfast together (read: sat in his lap with a bowl of cereal while he read his emails), were (almost) late due to your showering arrangement, and only parted after a (very) good kiss in the driveway.

Still though, he can’t quite shake the insecurities he always felt with his brother. Thirteen years his junior, Sean always seemed to excel in every social pursuit. Music, girls, friends - he was able to settle into things Aaron always struggled with. It was stupid. Aaron was well into his thirties when Sean was in undergrad, but that prickle of envy never seemed to fade.

Their mother never put the pressure on Sean the way she did on Aaron, and in some ways it made sense. He was a teenager when their father passed, and Sean was hardly a child. More responsibility, more weight, less credit.

Aaron might be his mom’s pride and joy, even to this day, but Sean will always be her baby.

Thus, watching Sean easily weasel his way into one of your smiles wore on almost thirty years of tension.

“Hey, what’s going on with you?” Emily asks, tapping Hotch’s shoulder with gentle fingers. Upon making contact, she snorts. “Wow, you’re really tense.”

Hotch shakes his head and shrugs her off. “I’m alright.”

It’s Dave’s turn to snort. “No you’re not. You’ve been scowling since Sean showed up.”

“He just has that effect on me. Always has.”

“C’mon, Aaron.” Dave says. Aaron’s grip on the wheel tightens, but he doesn’t say anything. “He’s just a kid.”

With a flat deadpan, Aaron replies, “He’s thirty.”

Emily leans forward on the center console, inserting herself into the conversation. “Hotch, you don’t have anything to worry about. Sean doesn’t have anything on you.” She bumps his shoulder with hers.

He sighs. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Emily and Dave share a look and a little smile.

+++

You hop out of the car, swinging your keys in your hand. Hotch is a couple of spots down from you in the parking lot, and your little groups meet up somewhere in the middle. Falling back, you let Derek and Emily lead the way. When they’re all in front of you, Sean included, you press your shoulder to Aaron’s for just a moment.

“Are you going to be childish?” he says, quietly.

You suppress a smile. “You’re fun when you’re jealous.”

“I’m not jealous.”

“Alright.” Your hand snags his for just a moment, before you jog forward to catch up to the rest of the group.

“There you are!” Sean’s voice rings out, and you let him tuck you under his arm. You wrap an arm around Sean’s waist and chance a look back to grin at Aaron.

Gotcha, babe.

Aaron rolls his eyes so loudly you can see it from twenty feet away. Ridiculous.

I love you.

I know.

+++

You’ve all managed to secure a table. While not incredibly crowded, there are plenty of people around. You planted yourself next to Aaron, and Sean planted himself next to you. The music is just loud enough to encourage dancing without requiring a shout to communicate.

Derek downed his first drink and led Penelope on the floor within ten minutes of your arrival.

The round table is crowded, and your pinkie locked in Aaron’s belt loop goes unnoticed. He stretches his arm out behind you to clap Sean’s shoulder, and his fingers quickly trace across your shoulders as he pulls it back.

“So what have you been up to, Sean?”

“Oh, you know. This and that.” He pulls from the drink in front of him and you’re almost certain it’s just a Coke.

Sober? Getting there?

Remind me to get the skinny on that later.

10-4.

Aaron chuckles darkly. “You’re gonna have to do better than that.”

Sean shrugs, and leans back, checking out the dance floor. You pull your pinkie from Aaron and put both of your hands on the table. Emily’s looking a little too watchful tonight, and you’d hate to lose your bet.

Your money is on making it more than six months without alerting the team you’ve been sleeping together. Aaron, always of little faith, took the alternative.

“Dance with me?” Sean offers you a hand, and you take it. Before you get too far, you lean across Aaron to take another sip of your drink. When you lose your balance (on purpose), Aaron steadies you with a hand around your waist, making sure you’re settled on your feet before you jet off with Sean.

“Thanks, Hotch!”

He takes a long pull from his beer - his only drink for the evening. Hotch. Gimme a break.

“Looks like they’re hitting it off great,” JJ says with a laugh. “That works out. I mean, Sean’s about our age, right?”

Don’t remind me.

“Yep. Turned thirty last month.” Aaron does his best to not sound too bitter.

JJ smirks at Emily, who turns to smirk at Dave. They don’t know what they don’t know, but they certainly know enough to keep an eye on Aaron for the rest of the evening.

“That’s in-flight entertainment, baby.” Emily whispers to JJ. “I can’t wait to tell Will. He’s going to die laughing.”

JJ lets out a peal of laughter. “Absolutely.”

Out on the floor, you’re having way too much fun, sandwiched between Derek and Sean. You pull Penelope between you and Derek, and loop an arm over Sean’s shoulders.

“So,” he says, his lips close to your ear and his voice barely audible over the music, “how long have you been sleeping with my brother?”

You freeze for just a moment, but it’s a moment too long to recover. “What?”

“Oh, come on. Question in response to a question? That’s like profiling 101.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Sean rolls his eyes. “He’s halfway in love with you, if not completely fucked, in case he’s failed to tell you.” He spins you out, and back in so your back is against his chest.

“We’ve got that covered, yeah.” You twist in his arms. “You gonna do anything about it?”

He shrugs. “I dunno. I think it’s pretty funny to get him all worked up, though, don’t you think?” Another bright smile crosses his face and his blue eyes seem to glow in the dim light.

“Oh, Sean. I think we’re going to get along just fine.” You laugh and reach for him again, but a finger appears in your belt loop. Derek pulls you back toward him by the hip. He’s stupid strong, and you can only tumble back into him with another laugh.

You’re sweaty, sober, and having way too much fun.

“Careful, kid. I think Hotchner has a crush.” Derek’s playful jab is warm against your ear as you fall in with him, cheek-to-cheek.

“What can I say?” You ask. “I’m irresistible.”

Derek throws you under his arm in a spin and you land back at his chest with the wind knocked out of you. “He’s gotta get in line though.”

“Oh?”

“I think his big brother’s gonna give him a run for his money?”

That’s enough for you. “Gimme a break, Morgan.” With a laugh, you shove at Derek’s chest and leave the floor. Returning to the table, you sidle up to Aaron again. “Hey, Hotch. Having fun?”

He gives you a weak glare out of the corner of his eye and takes a sip of his beer. “A blast.”

“Couple more hours, if that, then we’ll be home.” You drop your voice, almost whispering into your glass as you take another sip.

Aaron nods. “Can’t come soon enough.”

The rest of the team gets more and more sloshed as the evening progresses, and you can get away with a lot more. That said, Sean’s eyes are playful, sober, and more than a little amused.

“What did my brother say to you?” Hotch murmurs, under his breath. The girls went to the bathroom (and to call Spencer a cab home) while Derek and Sean posted up at the bar, itching for an excuse to give some asshole the what-for.

You bump his shoulder. “Just that you’re half in love with me, if not already completely fucked.”

He heaves a sigh. “Can’t catch a break.” You link your pinkie through his belt loop again. “He’s right, though.”

“How’s that?” You look up at him and you know he can see how much you love him.

“I’m completely fucked.”

If any of your team members wonder what’s so fucking funny, they don’t ask. It’s just good to see Hotch smiling again.

+++

At the end of the night, you drop Sean back off at the hotel on your way home. He’s the last in your car, so he can speak his mind with a certain degree of freedom. You idle in front of the building for a moment, just enjoying the silence.

“Hey.”

You look over at him. “Yeah?”

“You’d make a great in-law. Just wanted you to know that I’m here for it.” He offers you a hand. You shake it and it almost feels like you’re making some kind of gentleman’s agreement. “Take care of him. He needs it.”

“Oh, don't worry. I know.”

The smile you share is that of a pair of co-conspirators, of siblings, of friends.

We’ll do just fine, you and I.

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magalidragon · 3 years

Text

So this is in response to a prompt ask I got awhile back from @freesoulladyaic— they requested beauty underneath and I am not sure exactly what but I think there was a mixup for which prompt list and number was requested so I went with the one I thought made most sense I hope you don’t mind and so sorry it has been so long! Enjoy!

Prompt: “I prefer you naked but that dress looks really good on you too.”

"Fuck!"

"Language."

Jon looked up from where he'd stabbed his thumb with a pin, a series of them stuck between his lips. He made a face at his wife, who was on the other side of the room, working on another dress form. He lifted up the yards of shades of red soft organza and tulle, which he'd been alternating in a macrame styling on the bodice of the gown. He'd been pinning them to the waist, already marked on the form. It was giving it a very ethereal look, but with the deep colors, indicative of the Targaryen crest, the overlay looked equal parts ash and fire.

He finished off the bodice, taking the remaining pins from his mouth, and turned the form, frowning at the back, where he wanted to make the two straps criss-crossing from shoulder to waist thicker, both in black. The red was just the detailing. He pursed his lips, contemplating how best to achieve this, and felt eyes on him. He lifted his, meeting Dany's gaze across the studio. He smirked. "What?"

"You're so focused, so intense." She licked her lips, arching her brow teasingly. She purred, "You know what that does to me."

"Keep it in your pants, we've got dresses to finish."

"Hmm, the auteur himself, Jon Snow, working on his creation." She sauntered over, in her long black housecoat, which she wore when working, her feet bare on the hardwood and jeans rolled at the cuffs. Her hair was bound up in a scarf, kept from her eyes while she worked. It was a decidedly unsexy look, measuring tape over her shoulder, pincushion strapped to her wrist and her pockets heavy with thread and a little set of scissors tucked into a brace on her other wrist, like she was some sort of sewing superhero.

He smirked up at her, the stool he was on swiveling over to her. "Well I promised the client that I would have my best men on it." He puffed his chest. "And that happens to be me."

"Funny, I thought I was the client."

"You are, what do you think so far?" He chewed his bottom lip, studying her face as she perused the fabric draped and pinned to the form. He pretended like her opinion meant nothing to him, but in reality it was the only one that mattered. If there was even a hint of dislike, he'd destroy the entire thing and start again. It worked both ways.

She trailed a finger along the macrame detailing, the straps across the back, and lifted up the tulle strewn along the floor. On the table he had sketches of the design, fabric samples pinned to a board on an easel, and at least one of the leather leggings he'd been sewing to go underneath. While she studied everything, he got up, too nervous to watch her, and went into the adjoining office, picking up his vape.

Clamping his lips around it, he puffed, holding it in his mouth like a 'binkie' as Dany teased him, and picked up some sales reports, flicking through the assessments from their CFO. They'd poached Willas Tyrell from his grandmother, mostly because he was bored with the steadiness of the established company and wanted something new. He was brilliant, had taken their sales higher than even Jon had imagined-- and that was pretty far.

Dragonwolf had become the most sought after couture house in Westeros, while he transitioned L.Stark into an upscale ready-to-wear line, headed by Sansa. Dany still maintained her CEO position over Dracarys, but Missandei had taken over as creative director. It afforded him more time, he'd discovered, to do the things he really enjoyed doing.

Hanging out with Ghost, coming up with new creations, and Dany, not necessarily in that order.

He sucked down the fake smoke from the vape, tricking his brain it was actually a real cigarette, the action habitual and relaxing his nerves. He sank into his chair, glancing at the photo of his mother he kept on the edge of the desk, smiling briefly at the image of her laughing, arms around him as he was wrapped up in fabric from playing in her studio. His gaze darted to the image right beside it, of Dany in the same pose, hugging him after she had wrapped him up in fabric too. It was in the same place, the same location he'd just come from, their private studio in the old townhome in Winterfell.

The vape still between his lips, he moved to the window, cranking it open and blowing smoke into the nighttime air, glancing towards the castle up on the hill. The dresses were for the annual Winter's Eve Gala event, something of a who's who in the zoo of the Westerosi peerage and entertainment industry. It was a chance for the Starks to show off the castle, everyone to arrive dripping in icy couture and jewels, and pretend like they gave a shit about the lesser people among them. There would be a famous silent auction, fundraising for the Lyanna Stark Memorial Fund-- which was incredibly important to his heart-- along with an award that would honor someone who had contributed significantly to Lyanna's chosen cause-- orphaned children.

But the thing people seemed to care most about was what everyone would be wearing.

He was making Dany's dress and she was making a dress for a new young actress as well as the young cousin of her friend Ser Jorah Mormont. Lyanna Mormont was a Lady, technically, but you wouldn't know it. She was a pistol. This would be her first big event after her first movie had hit the scene, garnering her immediate raves and attention. It was a big deal for her to be getting a chance to wear a Dracarys creation, especially handmade by Dany herself, but it was the least Dany said she could do for the young girl who made her smile and laugh every single time she encountered her.

Jon finished his vape, returning to the studio, and found Dany back to work on Lyanna's dress. There were no notes left for him, so he continued to work, both of them silent. He kept at it, accepting her kiss and murmured "don't stay up too late" with a distracted nod, remaining at his station into the night. He pinned and draped and sewed, every stitch even, like his mother taught him.

Around two in the morning, his eyes burned, but he leaned back in his chair, feet up on his desk, and Ghost under his legs, fast asleep. He was working on the leggings, finding hand-sewing leather to actually be a relaxing task. It was soft in his hands, buttery almost, and he likened it to his mother, watching her work on making her own riding clothes. He took a deep breath, slowly releasing it, and pulled on thread, slipping it in and out, until his eyes drooped further and further, until he was fast asleep.

The suit he'd chosen to wear was one of Dany's. The irony of L.Stark by Jon Snow, award winning and bestselling couture men's designer wearing a suit from anyone but his own line, especially Dracarys. It was something he never would have thought possible two years ago when they were at the height of their hatred for each other. Nay, he corrected himself, it wasn't hating, it was unresolved tension, best resolved by the explosion most everyone witnessed at the MET gala.

He adjusted his tie in the mirror, smoothing the velvet brocade over his chest, eyeing Ghost, who looked like he wanted to run up to him. He pointed his finger, warning. "No way. This is black velvet. I'll never get your fur out."

Ghost wagged his tail, thankfully staying put on the bed.

Indeed, it was an incredibly comfortable and finely detailed suit, black silk tie with matching black velvet brocade along it-- if you got close enough you could see it was wolves and dragons running and tangling throughout, swirls of flames and snow following them. That was a hallmark of Dany-- her ability to tell stories with her designs and the intricacies of her attention to detail.

He left their room, knowing she was elsewhere in the suite at Winterfell, where they'd deigned to stay that evening to prepare for the event. He thought it a little silly; they would have to pretend to "leave" just to "arrive" at the same location and walk up the icy blue carpet with photographers.

Price they paid, he supposed, for business.

He left the suite, taking his time down the set of stone stairs spiraling down from their sitting and bedroom areas, into a receiving hall. Davos was already waiting, their constant taskmaster, and he had Satin floating about somewhere. "Where's Arya?" he asked.

"I believe she said and I quote 'fuck this shit, I'm not going.'"

He snorted, fixing his cufflinks. "Sounds about right."

Davos checked his watch. "I'll go check on the car."

"Stupid Davos, this is stupid."

"It's just a whip around the block." Davos nodded, signing, resigned. "Although aye, it is stupid."

"What's stupid?"

Jon heard Dany's voice before he saw her, and turned, looking up the stairs to where she was at the top, waiting for him. He gaped, mute, and jaw dropping the moment his eyes rested on her form. It took his brain a second to catch up with his body, which was already responding in kind, and another second for his voice to return.

He choked, watching her smirk at him, knowing exactly how she appeared and what she was doing. Especially with the slow descent she took, every step tiny, allowing the full effect of her appearance to settle. He could not believe it.

It was one thing to see a dress on paper, another in progress, and even the final version on the form or on a model down the runway.

It was another when it was on the person who inspired it, who it was meant for, from the first sketch to the final stitch.

Dany floated down the stairs, the dress whispering around her, the crimson and black rippling through the soft tulle. It gave her a fairy-like appearance, but it was the black macrame, the black strappy heels on her feet, and her black fingernails, leather leggings, and crimson lips that warned eveyrone she was no simpering little thing. She would burn you alive.

The skirt floated about her and she had topped it off with the see-through tulle gloves he'd made at the last minute. Her silver tresses were spun in a complicated braided style, mountains of them criss-crossing and tangling in a crown about her head.

Someone asked her once why she always wore her hair in such intricate braids-- it had become her trademark. "When I was growing up I learned a lot about the Dothraki tradition of a braid for a victory," she explained. She had smirked. "I grew up with the Dothraki. They were my family. I have never been defeated. The braids show that."

Jon couldn't believe how gorgeous she was.

Or how lucky he happened to be.

He unstuck his tongue from the roof of his mouth, found his voice. "You know, I prefer you naked but that dress looks really good on you too."

Dany beamed, her smile beatific. She offered her elbow to him, to take and lead her away to their car, but instead he lifted her hand delicately, even though that had was stronger than anyone would have thought at first look. Eyes on hers, unblinking, he dragged his fingertips up the tulle, delighting in her breathy hiss.

He dipped under the top of the glove, above her elbow, and began to peel it down, agonizingly slow. Her pupils dilated and mouth fell, her tongue darting out to nervously wet her lips. He plucked at fingers, removing the glove. With her skin bared, he stroked her forearm and then lifted her knuckles to his lips, brushing over them.

"Jon," she gasped, brows arching. "We're going to be late."

"Do you think I care?"

"It took forever to get into this dress and look like this."

He spun her into his arms, tossing the glove down, and nosed at her neck, whispering along her racing pulse. "I made the dress, I'll be careful."

"Not a word in your vocabulary."

He didn't acknowledge that, because he was kissing her. After a moment, he lifted her under her knees, hurrying her back towards the stairs, to her delighted giggles.

Occupational hazard, he thought, later when they were late, racing down the carpet instead of allowing photos taken. He made her the dresses, even though honestly, she looked good in anything. Or nothing, as the case may be.

"Dany, who are you wearing?" someone called out.

Dany shouted back. "Who do you think?"

He laughed, racing after her and not even bothering to answer the same question directed at him.

#jonerys #jonerys au #my fics #my moodboards #jonerys fanfic #writer prompts #fashion jonerys!

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awigglycultist · 3 years

Text

Okay so I have a headcanon that Spencer and Graham meet Paul, Artie and Liam (Paul's roommate if you don't know/remember) at like comic con or some sort of convention and then become friends so uhh here's some incorrect quotes because why not

Spencer: You're a loose cannon, Paul

Paul: No, I'm not. I'm a cannon maybe, but a loose cannon? Is that what you think of me?

Liam: I think you play by your own rules

Artemis: No way, he thinks rules were made to be broken

Spencer: Those are all attributes of a loose cannon

Paul: No, I'm just a reckless renegade. Graham is a loose cannon

Graham: *smashes a chair*

---

Graham: I’m gonna need a human skull and I can't have you ask any questions why

Liam: Only if you also don't ask why

Liam: *Pulls out 7 pristine human skulls* Take your pick

Graham:

Liam:

Graham: This one is fine

---

Artemis, banging on the door: Graham! Open up!

Graham: Well, it all started when I was a kid...

Paul: No, she meant-

Spencer: Let him finish

Liam: There are seven chairs and ten people. What do you do?

Spencer: Have everyone stand

Artemis: Bring three more chairs!

Paul: The most important ones can sit down

Graham: Kill three

---

Artemis: Is having a penis fun?

Paul: It has its ups and downs

Graham: Sometimes it’s a little hard

Liam: It’s a pain in the ass

Spencer: Oh, Jesus, fuck, guys, come on.

---

Paul: Are you the big spoon or the little spoon?

Graham: I'm a knife

Spencer, from across the room: They're the little spoon

---

Paul: Hey, you want some leftovers?

Graham: What's that?

Paul: You've never had leftovers???

Graham: No, because I'm not a quitter.

---

Liam: Care for another sundae, weenie?

Spencer: I am not a weenie!

Paul: Relax, you’re among friends. *raises his drink*

Spencer: My friends don’t hang out at Weenie Hut Jr’s.

Graham: You tell ‘em, Spencer! *sips his drink*

Spencer: Graham, what’re you doing here?

Graham: I’m always here on Double Weenie Wednesdays

---

Spencer: We’ve been conducting an ongoing study to see what Paul will and will not eat.

Graham: Grass? Yes!

Spencer: Moss? Yes!!

Graham: Leaves? Ohh, yes!

Spencer: Shoelaces? Strange but true!

Graham: Worms? Sometimes!

Spencer: Rocks? Usually nah.

Graham: Twigs? Usually!

Spencer: Liam's cooking? Inconclusive!

Artemis: How did you… test this?

Spencer: You just hand them stuff and say ‘eat this’ and if he eats it, he eats it

Artemis: ... I don’t know how to feel about this

Liam: IS THAT WHERE ALL MY SPARE SHOELACES WENT?

Paul to Artie later: look being a half werewolf does things to you

---

Graham: Who thinks I can fit 15 marshmallows in my mouth?

Artemis: You’re a hazard to society

Liam: And a coward. DO TWENTY!

---

Spencer, setting down a card: Ace of spades

Graham, pulling out an Uno card: +4

Paul, pulling out a Pokémon card: Jolteon, I choose you

Artemis, trembling: What are we playing

---

Artemis: How did none of you hear what I just said?

Paul: I’ve been zoned out for the past two and a half hours

Spencer: I got distracted about halfway through

Graham: Ignoring you was a conscious decision

---

Spencer: It’s dark in here

Paul: Don’t worry dude I got this

Paul: *Stomps his feet*

Paul: *Skechers light up*

---

Paul: Graham isn’t answering his phone

Spencer: I’ll call

Artemis: Paul and I have both tried six times each, what makes you thi-

Graham: Hello?

---

Graham: Hey, what do IDK, LY, and TTYL mean?

Spencer: I don’t know, love you, talk to you later

Graham: Ok, I love you too, I’ll just ask Artie

---

Paul to Artemis: On the count of three, what's your favorite cake? One, two, three-

Paul and Artemis, in unison: Chocolate cake peanut butter frosting with chocolate chunks!

Graham: Our turn, Spencer! One, two, three- vanilla!

Spencer, deadpan: I've never had cake, what is cake.

---

Liam: Why are Spencer and Graham sitting with their backs to each other?

Artemis: They had a fight

Liam: Then why are they holding hands?

Artemis: They get sad when they fight

---

Spencer: Isn’t it weird that we pay money to see other people?

Paul: Plane tickets?

Liam: Concert tickets?

Graham: Prostitution?

Spencer, holding his broken frames: Glasses.

---

Graham: You lying, cheating, piece of shit!

Spencer: Oh yeah? You’re the idiot who thinks you can get away with everything you do. WELCOME TO THE REAL WORLD

Graham: I’m leaving you, and I’M TAKING PAUL WITH ME

Artemis, picking up the monopoly board: I think we’re gonna stop playing now.

---

Graham: You fuckers don’t know about my knife stick. It’s a knife taped to a stick and it’s the ultimate weapon.

Artemis, not looking up from her book: Spear.

Graham: BLOCKED

---

Spencer: You have to apologize to Artemis

Graham: Fine.

Graham: 'Unfuck you' or whatever

---

Spencer: There is no future. There is no past. Do you see? Time is simultaneous, an intricately structured jewel that humans insist on viewing one edge at a time, when the whole design is visible in every facet.

Paul:

Artemis:

Liam:

Everyone Else At Spencer's Surprise Birthday Party:

Graham: All I asked was if you wanted to cut your birthday cake first

---

[The group, playing DND, are in a prison cell that was just hit by an earthquake]

Paul: Uh, I'm gonna roll a perception check of... 4, and see if our cell is, uh, in any way damaged by this quake

Spencer: You're in a prison cell

Artemis: You did great. Well, I got a 10-

Spencer: You're in a prison cell with bars on it

Graham: I got a 1!

Spencer: You're in... a cube-shaped place.

---

Artemis: Welcome, idiots

Spencer: Hello, Artemis

Artemis: No, no, not you, you're not an idiot

Spencer: You underestimate me

---

Paul: If I die, my funeral is going to be the biggest party ever and you’re all invited

Spencer: If?

Graham: Great, the only party I’ve ever been invited to and they might not even die!

---

Store Worker: Would a Ms Schue-Horyn please come to the front desk?

Artemis, arriving at the desk: Hello, is there a problem?

Store Worker, pointing to Paul and Liam: I believe they belong to you?

Paul and Liam, simultaneously: We got lost :(

Artemis: I didn’t even bring you guys here with me-

---

Paul: Liam... Why did you draw a pentagram on the floor?

Liam: Your text told me to satanize the house before you returned

Paul:

Paul: I wrote sanitize, Liam

---

Graham, after Artemis and Paul were complaining about APN: I'm gonna burn this place to the ground

Artemis: I'll show you where my desk is. You can start there

---

Graham: What's the expression? Fool me once, shame on me. Fool me twice... fiddle-dee-dee.

Liam: Fool me once, and I'll be fooled for a day. Teach me how to fool people and I'll be fooled for the rest of my life.

Paul: Fool me once, fool me twice, fool me chicken soup with rice.

---

Graham: Back in uni I once self medicated with a mix of NyQuil and DayQuil called QuilTM in the hopes it would manage my undiagnosed ADHD

Paul: And did that actually work?

Graham: Spencer tells me I wasn't much different than usual but, between you and me, I don't remember my entire sophomore year

---

Graham: I'll whoop their ass.

Spencer: Wait, don't! That's Artemis!

Graham: Wait, is it?

Graham: I mean, I'm still gonna do it, but is it?

---

Liam: Wow, Graham. I like seeing you get all feisty

Graham: That's the Graham way

Spencer: I thought the Graham way was a toasted bagel with grape jelly?

Graham: That's the Graham breakfast way

#tin can bros #flop stoppers #the wayward guide for the untrained eye #incorrect quotes #paul schue horyn #artemis schue horyn #spencer lang #graham holden #liam white #caps tw

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btsslowburnfic · 4 years

Text

The Arrangement Chapter 4

Series Summary: Desperately in need of money, you answered the questionable ad. AKA-Arranged marriage AU featuring Y/N and Yoongi.

Chapter Summary: The job interview continues, and Yoongi finally takes an interest

Author’s Note: I wrote a massive amount of this story last weekend and I am super happy with it. I can’t wait to share the rest of the chapters with you guys each Thursday <3

Previous chapter here ---------------------------------

You left Grindhouse feeling better about the job. Mostly. It was clear that Kim Namjoon, you resolved to try and use his real name in case you ended up working together, wasn’t your biggest fan but he did respect that you had researched the position.

Parts of the job were definitely strange. The strangest part? Agreeing to get married if the client decided “he wanted to.” No pressure. Totally a normal thing. You thought back to the interview

--------

“I’m sorry. So this is like a mail-order bride type thing?” You wrinkled your brow in confusion.

“Technically internet-order bride, and don’t make that face, it will give you wrinkles,” Namjoon replied waving his hand in front of his face.

“Ok fine. Walk me through a day in this job.”

“Huh. This is usually where half the girls laugh at me and leave.”

You awkwardly shrugged your shoulders and waited for him to answer your question.

“Wake up, check the itinerary for the day. A work schedule will be emailed to you every morning by 7 am. Ensure the client makes it to their appointments on time, accompany the client to events both domestic and international, organize small social events. Any and all of these things. Whatever the client asks for. I’m sure he’ll have work for you to do. You are also responsible for posting appropriately to social media about your burgeoning love story,” Namjoon looks boredly over at the door, surprised that Yoongi never came back.

You wrote down some notes. “ Will I be provided social media accounts? I don’t really want to use my own. “

“Yes, they would be monitored and managed by BigHit behind the scenes.”

“Ok.” You jotted a few things down. “I saw that I would be living on-premise. Would I still be able to see my family and how far away is the location?”

“Yes. The apartment is actually at BigHit Headquarters. Several floors are dedicated to staff apartments. You may see your siblings if you put in appropriate time off requests and mark yourself out. You may not skip important company events. You must also sign a nondisclosure agreement upon the beginning of the contract. Your family and everyone else can’t know you are being compensated for your role outside of personal assistant. As you can imagine, it would look bad for the company.”

“Ok. That makes sense.”

“One last question [Y/N]: Why are you so nonchalant about this job? The marriage stipulation had most of the girls running off. And I can’t tell you how many cards I handed out that never signed in.”

You pouted, “ And here I thought I was special.” You laughed dryly as he rolled his eyes. “Dude, I’m not getting any younger. Dating sucks. I might as well get paid to do it.” You flipped your hair behind your shoulders. “This is a lot of money. If I end up getting married, it’s just a piece of paper. As long as the guy’s not a total asshole I really don’t care.”

“Oh yeah?” Namjoon clicks his pen a few times, “What if he’s really ugly? Is the money good enough to make up for that?”

You don’t miss a beat, “I’m more of a personality gal myself. Which may explain why you and I aren’t exactly hitting it off,” you mused and he just laughed at you, beginning to acclimate to your dry sense of humor.

“Yeah. That’s why.” He rolled his eyes. “All right. We’re done here. If you make it to the next round you’ll receive an email within the next few days.

----

Well that was a fucking disaster, Namjoon thought as he walked back over to the office. Three. He had started with 50 cards distributed. 20 returns. And three candidates that showed an interest after finding out more about the job. He groaned. Why had BPD thought this was a good idea? He took his phone out as he entered the lobby and to Namjoon’s absolute shock he saw that Yoongi had scheduled a meeting for the two of them that afternoon.

Two things were extremely out of character: one that Yoongi had even scheduled a meeting at all; most of the time Yoongi had to be dragged, kicking and screaming, to the meetings. Two, that he actually took the time to put it in the agenda. He most often showed up when he felt like, walked into Namjoon’s office, bypassed a yelling Jimin, and then complained about something.

Namjoon rode the elevator up to his floor. He didn’t get a chance to eat since the interviews had taken all of his lunch hour. He exited and walked over to Jimin. “Order me lunch. Surprise me.”

“Of course Sir,” Jimin dutifully replied and pulled up the food ordering App.

“Thank you. When Yoongi gets here send him on in.”

Jimin straightened up a few items on his desk, “Usually I have trouble keeping him out sir, but I understand.” Jimin was dying to know what was going on. Yoongi and Namjoon usually avoided each other but had interacted thrice now within the week. He resolved to make a coffee delivery mid-meeting. Yes. Excellent. Jimin smirked as he placed the food order and sent it.

Namjoon took out the three remaining folders and placed them on his desk. Hopefully this meeting meant Yoongi had stopped being a little shit and decided to go along with it. He took out the paperwork he had prepared for Yoongi, a similar NDA to the one he had discussed with [Y/N].

An hour passed where he ate his lunch and caught up on emails.

Yoongi exited the elevator and lazily walked over to Jimin. “Is Namjoon ready?”

Jimin raised his delicate eyebrows. “You’re actually stopping to ask? Well that’s a first.”

Yoongi stuffed his hands into his pockets and rolled his eyes. “I’ll just head in then.”

Jimin sat there, utterly confused but also strangely excited. He ordered two coffees in preparation for his eavesdropping. Yoongi had never, ever stopped at the reception desk. Or made an appointment. Since when was he playing nice?

Jimin: GUYS. Yoongi and Namjooon are meeting for the third time this week. And Yoongi actually made an appointment.

JK: Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat?

V: Are you serious?

Jimin: Yes. I’m sneaking in there in half an hour. I’ll report back.

Jimin didn’t know why he cared so much. It was just that Yoongi was such a mystery compared to the rest of the guys. He was good looking, talented, but kept to himself and seemed to resent everything and everyone else that worked there.

Yoongi opened the door to the office. Namjoon looked up from his desk, “Yoongi. You left the interviews early, I’m surprised to see you made an appointment this afternoon.”

Yoongi walked closer to the desk, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah well I had seen everything I needed to see, and heard everything I needed to hear.” He looked down at the desk. “Are those all the candidates that are left?”

“Yes. Unsurprisingly it was difficult to explain the situation without sounding like we are running an escort service, as you can imagine.”

Yoongi had been practicing the conversation he wanted to have since he got back to the building earlier after the girl returned his headphones. “Are there any headshots included in these?” He asked, feigning nonchalance.

“Nope,” Namjoon replied, looking over the NDA. “You said you didn’t want to be, and I quote, unduly influenced by physical appearance.”

“Huh. Ok.” Yoongi responded. He didn’t want Namjoon to know that he had met one of the women who had applied for the job. Wait. She had said she worked somewhere nearby. “Can I see the resumes?”

“Knock yourself out.” He said, pushing the papers toward the edge of the desk.

He flipped through them. The first one was a model. Nope. The second one was an office worker. The third one listed two jobs, including Club Tokki. That was the woman he had met earlier. She had gone back and completed the interview. Despite trying to school his face, he let a small smile creep across his face.

“Find something you like there?” Namjoon asked.

“These two sound interesting.” He handed two of the folders back to Namjoon.

Namjoon looked at the two he had kept, “Of course you dumped the model. Here we have Lisa. She’s nice. Boring but Nice. And [Y/N]. You know what? I’m not even going to tell you anything. She’s something. Let’s invite her just to see what happens.”

Yoongi stood there for a moment, swiping his lips with his tongue. Really? It had been that easy?

“Here. You need to sign this. It’s an NDA about the situation. As far as anybody else knows, the girl we hire is your assistant. None of this was arranged before time. Additionally, you are to tell her that you want this, not that Big Hit is forcing you to do this.”

Yoongi puffed out his cheeks, “Why does that matter if she’s in on it?”

“Plausible deniability on the company’s part I’m sure. I didn't write the contract, BPD and the attorneys did.”

Yoongi sat down and started to read through the document.

Jimin knocked lightly on the door before entering. “Coffee gentleman? I have two iced Americanos right here.” He walked towards the desk.

“Thanks Jimin, put them on the desk.” Namjoon said, standing with the files in his hand.

“Ooo am I getting a new coworker?” Jimin tried to ask casually.

“Yoongi’s getting an assistant.” Namjoon responded.

“Good maybe someone will actually answer when I call down to the studio.” Jimin quipped.

Yoongi snorted, “As if I would let her in MY studio.”

“Enjoy your coffee, Sugar,” Jimin said, purposefully pronouncing his alias incorrectly.

“It’s Suga. Thanks for the coffee.”

Jimin blinked slowly, not sure how to respond to Yoongi saying something half-nice to him and slowly exited the room.

Yoongi picked up the coffee, sipping it while he finished reading the document. “Alright. Give me the pen.”

Namjoon was excited to be moving forward on this stupid project. If it actually worked, he hoped he would have to babysit Yoongi way less. “Here you go. You need to come to the next round of interviews. I think it’s important for you to meet each other.”

“Yeah, ok.” Yoongi signed the paperwork and stood up. “Put it on the calendar. See you.”

NEXT CHAPTER

Taglist: @lidda @anpanman-sonyeondan @firefairy1

#bts fanfic #bts fanfction #bts au fanfic #bts suga x you #bts yoongi x reader #yoongi x reader #yoongi scenarios #suga x reader #suga x you

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kingstylesdaily · 4 years

Text

Harry Styles’ “Adore You” Is Everything a Music Video Should Be (Including Underappreciated by The VMAs)

youtube

KSD NOTE: there is a mention of suicide in regards to the beginning of Adore You.

On November 18, 2019, a website promoting a mysterious place called Eroda (“No Land Quite Like It”) arrived on the internet. Two days later, the official Twitter account for this fictional frown-shaped island began teasing local seaside attractions. You may have missed it, depending on which corners of the internet you choose to lurk, but not if you were a Harry Styles fan, a group that went into pure overdrive trying to figure out what it all meant.

I, for one, missed it at the time. I was unaware this account was cryptically quote tweeting fans as they tried to piece together what was happening, what it meant, and what it could be connected to (Greek Mythology and Lost were a couple of theories posed in comments, Twitter threads, and Reddit). Meanwhile, the Columbia Records marketing department had been hard at work for months, devising this specific and highly-detailed campaign around the music video for Styles’ second single, “Adore You” from his second solo album, Fine Line, ever since he shot the video in Scotland in August 2019 (Eroda = Adore backwards — clever!).

But it was all leading up to the morning of Friday, December 6 when the video was released, one week before the full-length album arrived. Up until that point, I had never seen an entire Harry Styles music video, but what happened next was inevitable. Somehow, as a self-proclaimed boy band scholar, I had never paid much attention to One Direction. I kept a distant eye on Styles since they disbanded, intrigued by the decisions he was making in his solo career. But I hadn’t yet realized I’d been in the ring all throughout the fall of 2019, fighting to resist the inevitable fascination that awaited. First came the jab of Rob Sheffield’s Rolling Stone profile, followed by the cross of “Lights Up”, a song that cracked my Top 20 most listened to songs of the year despite being released just two months before Spotify so thoughtfully compiled that personalized playlist. Then there was the hook of his SNL hosting stint in November (and bless you Bowen Yang for that Sara Lee sketch), which then leads us to the “Adore You” video, the uppercut and ultimate TKO. I surrendered in what felt like a near instant. I was now a Harry Styles fan. (If we’re following this analogy, I sat up to spit out some blood after seeing that cover of “Juice” before my head quickly hit the mat again with a loud thud).

Maybe it’s not quite remarkable that I took time out of a Friday morning to watch a music video, but that I sat at my desk, in an office, with other people around (back when we did those kinds of things) and proceeded to wipe away a few tiny tears from under my eyes by the end of it, was an experience I had not been through… maybe ever? In a world of lyric videos and TikToks, actual, thoughtful, impactful music videos with a full (and sweet!) story are about as rare as a glowing and growing fish these days.

Ultimately, “Adore You” does everything a music video should do. In nearly eight minutes, this video uses excellent visual effects in a cool and interesting way, tells a compelling and heartfelt story, is anchored by an irresistible leading man and an adorable sidekick, is backed up by the catchiest song you could ever dream of, and culminates with a touching and hopeful ending. It’s a treat for the eyes and the ears and the soul. It’s innovative and the kind of thing that begs you to watch it more than once to catch all the details (and yes, I do tear up every time).

So one would think that an award show with the specific purpose of celebrating this type of creativity would be extra sure to nominate such a charming and effective clip, but alas, “Adore You” was overlooked in the MTV Video Music Awards main categories this year. Of course, some could argue that that fact only adds to the video’s credibility but I’ll do my best to not be that petty as I’m still rooting for it to win in the three technical categories where it picked up nominations: Best Visual Effects by Mathematic, Best Art Direction by Laura Ellis Cricks, and Best Direction by Dave Meyers, who remains one of the most inventive and influential directors of all time and whose videos with artists such as Missy Elliot, Pink, and Kendrick Lamar have been racking up nominations for nearly 20 years now. He also saw four other videos he directed get recognized this year: Normani’s “Motivation” (Best Chorography), Travis Scott’s “Highest in the Room” (Best Hop Hop and Best Visual Effects), Anderson .Paak’s “Lockdown” (Video For Good), and Camila Cabello feat. DaBaby’s “My Oh My” (Best Cinematography).

But I reached out to Meyers to specifically ask about the intricate details of “Adore You” and how it all came to be; how he captured such a vibe with the overcast and dreary weather, mixed so wonderfully with the charming oddities of the people that make up this world of Eroda. In addition to directing the video, he also co-wrote the story with Chris Shafer and said, “It’s the first idea that popped to mind after the first listen to the song, and the first idea I pitched to Harry. It was a story that underscored my understanding of what Harry stood for and felt it was necessary to tell it as a narrative to convey his optimism.”

The extended version of the video starts with a two-and-a-half-minute introduction to the world of Eroda, narrated by Rosalia. This includes the “peculiar” people and their professions on the island, meeting The Boy (Styles) and his glowing smile that most people try to avoid, and the quirky superstitions these people continue to live by. “It all served a purpose,” Meyers said of the details. “The superstitions were a set up for how society generally reacts to different things. They fear change or oddity, even if it’s what’s best for them.”

Meyers, however, did not share in that fear, as much of this video provided for interesting and new opportunities he had yet to experience throughout his decades-long career, which he listed off: ”Compelling narrative, CG character, remote location, Scottish crew (nothing phased them),” also noting that all of the other characters in the video were locals as well. So perhaps they were less fazed by the atmosphere across the four-day shoot in Scotland, but as Meyers recalled, the “weather was nuts. It rained every 20 minutes, then the sun, then cloud over.”

However, it’s likely that Mother Nature is also a Styles fan, as Meyers recalled, “I seem to remember going up on the hill for Harry’s picnic with the fish and being worried that it was so gloomy. By the time we came to shoot, the sun came out. And then the sun went away as soon as the scene was over. Similarly, we had the worst storm when Harry was contemplating suicide at the start. Pouring rain, drenching him. So I guess in that sense it was fun watching how Scotland provided a backdrop for the emotions we were after.”

And hey, at least they had the weather on their side to add to the mood while shooting the video, as one of their main characters, well, didn’t exist. “It was very odd shooting with no fish,” Meyers admitted. “But was quite rewarding later seeing it dropped in and making empathic sense to the story we were after.”

Of course, the main character they did have on hand is an awfully useful and appealing one at that. Fans became enamored with the moment Styles uses the back of his hand to check the temperature of a coffee pot before dumping the fish inside the water so it could stay alive. I asked Meyers about this particular moment and he said, “The problem we had was apparent when Harry ran in and threw the fish in the pot. We all sorta felt — well, what if it was hot? So I believe Harry improvised that as a solution and we felt it was perfect for the character’s sensitivity and consideration for this poor fish.” And that’s not the only nice thing he does for his fish friend — he also serves him a tiny taco! “The taco was a whimsical way to express friendship between Harry and the fish,” Meyers offered. It looked pretty tasty, too.

The entire video serves as a showcase for what Styles does best and what makes him such a unique artist: his music, his acting, and his charisma, which Meyers knew would offer him a lot to work with. “Harry is a leading man. I felt that from my first meeting and wanted to play with his wonderful range of emotions. So finding a story with a real character arc was part of my focus in building this world.” Meyers described working on “Adore You” as an “all-around memorable shoot: awesome location, lovely Harry, compelling story, great effects, and… it worked.”

It did. And it was a risk: a video this complex and detailed (and one has to assume, costly), attached to a marketing campaign that proved to be even more involved, still came with no guarantee that the fans wouldn’t shrug it off. But as Manos Xanthogeorgis, SVP of Digital Marketing & Media at Columbia Records told Billboard last year, “When you have a video and a piece of art at such a level, it’s an incredible challenge for the rest of the team to build a campaign at that same level of artistry and creativity.” Oh, and that was only step one, as the marketing team engaged in “real-time marketing” with fans online, ensuring they would continue to remain engaged by dropping clues and clips in the lead-up to the video premiere and subsequently the album. “This whole campaign was around mystery and sometimes mystery is more powerful than knowledge,” Xanthogeorgis said. The Twitter handle has remained active throughout 2020, used as a continual marketing tool for Styles’ next videos including the Meyers-directed “Falling” and this summer’s hit, “Watermelon Sugar.”

With that kind of fan engagement, “Adore You” seemed like a no-brainer for the fan-voted categories of the VMAs this year, as they surely would’ve turned out to vote just as feverishly for this video as they did when searching for clues (about a made-up island, at that!). But hey, maybe MTV was just not interested in massive fan engagement this year — after all, it’s not like everything Styles does, including growing freakin’ facial hair, has the internet in a tizzy for weeks. Ultimately, as the impact of music videos (and certainly the ceremony celebrating them) continues to lose relevance, the disregard of this specific project simply feels like a missed opportunity to acknowledge a rare achievement in the art form.

While Meyers was sure to describe his inclusion in the VMA nominations this year as “lovely and flattering” (and he better have a moonperson in his possession this time next week, MTV!) it’s still puzzling why “Adore You” wouldn’t be included in the big categories, considering Styles is squarely within their demo, at the very least. That “Adore You” is also a technical and storytelling masterpiece, as well as a full moment that was used as inspiration both for the experience online and in-person at the Fine Line Spotify listening party last December, that also comes packed with one of the most enthusiastic groups of fans around, well, that should have had the entire network drooling.

Of course, some of this can simply be chalked up to a perfect storm. As far as his singles go, “Lights Up” was a nice appetizer, but “Adore You” remains the delicious entree (you already know what’s for dessert). “Adore You” is a perfect pop record if I’ve ever heard one (and I have) and deserved a special video. A Chris Isaak “Wicked Game” sexy vibe wasn’t going to work here. The song tells the story of such passionate, pure, and heartachingly naive and innocent love that it almost had to be directed toward a non-human being. Instead, Styles chose to inject those same carefree, sweaty, sticky, delicious, whimsical beach vibes into the “Watermelon Sugar” clip, which was the right choice, and not just for the summertime season (MTV has since added the Song of Summer category to the VMAs and included “Watermelon Sugar”).

But it’s “Adore You” that has melodies that bring a smile to the faces of babies, get your toes tapping even when you hear it in the dentist’s chair, and likely has my neighbors rolling their eyes when I sing along to it in the shower. The song is so simple it’s deep, a theme reflected in the video, as is the central reminder to help and care for others, a thoroughly 2020 message.

However, not all is lost. Both “Adore You” and “Watermelon Sugar” continue to rack up major spins at radio with the latter hitting number one on the Billboard charts earlier this month. Grammy voting kicks off at the end of September and Academy members should take note. Not only is Fine Line more than worthy of being acknowledged, but having Styles on hand to potentially collect trophies and perform is in your best interest when it comes to viewers and online chatter. Do not wait to take him seriously. This is the album, this is the time. Prove that you aren’t a bunch of stodgy old white men who think he’s just for teen (and um, thirty-something) girls, but that you understand the music he enjoys, is inspired by, and subsequently makes, is the same rock music you appreciate as well. An artist like Styles can be both of those things at the same time, and really, the best of both worlds. Give the album a listen, and then one more to let it all sink in. If you have not yet succumbed to the force that is Harry Styles fandom, I truly can’t recommend it enough — and please know that it will get you eventually.

Source: Decider.com

#kingstylesdaily #Harry Styles #hs: news #hs: adore you #August 2020 #Decider

114 notes · View notes

hlupdate · 4 years

Link

I, for one, missed it at the time. I was unaware this account was cryptically quote tweeting fans as they tried to piece together what was happening, what it meant, and what it could be connected to (Greek Mythology and Lostwere a couple of theories posed in comments, Twitter threads, and Reddit). Meanwhile, the Columbia Records marketing department had been hard at work for months, devising this specific and highly-detailed campaign around the music video for Styles’ second single, “Adore You” from his second solo album, Fine Line, ever since he shot the video in Scotland in August 2019 (Eroda = Adore backwards — clever!).

But it was all leading up to the morning of Friday, December 6 when the video was released, one week before the full-length album arrived. Up until that point, I had never seen an entire Harry Styles music video, but what happened next was inevitable. Somehow, as a self-proclaimed boy band scholar, I had never paid much attention to One Direction. I kept a distant eye on Styles since they disbanded, intrigued by the decisions he was making in his solo career. But I hadn’t yet realized I’d been in the ring all throughout the fall of 2019, fighting to resist the inevitable fascination that awaited. First came the jab of Rob Sheffield’s Rolling Stoneprofile, followed by the cross of “Lights Up”, a song that cracked my Top 20 most listened to songs of the year despite being released just two months before Spotify so thoughtfully compiled that personalized playlist. Then there was the hook of his SNL hosting stint in November (and bless you Bowen Yang for that Sara Lee sketch), which then leads us to the “Adore You” video, the uppercut and ultimate TKO. I surrendered in what felt like a near instant. I was now a Harry Styles fan. (If we’re following this analogy, I sat up to spit out some blood after seeing that cover of “Juice” before my head quickly hit the mat again with a loud thud).

Meyers, however, did not share in that fear, as much of this video provided for interesting and new opportunities he had yet to experience throughout his decades-long career, which he listed off: ”Compelling narrative, CG character, remote location, Scottish crew (nothing fazed them),” also noting that all of the other characters in the video were locals as well. So perhaps they were less fazed by the atmosphere across the four-day shoot in Scotland, but as Meyers recalled, the “weather was nuts. It rained every 20 minutes, then the sun, then cloud over.”

#harry styles #articles #270820 #tw suicide mention

112 notes · View notes

marvelfansince08love · 4 years

Text

Our own underground kingdom

Word Count: 1903

Pairing: Wilhelmina Venable x Fem!Reader

Warning: A lil angsty, soft Mina.

Prompts: 2,5,17 - “The only thing I have left is you”, “My only fear is losing you” “I can’t live.. Not without you”

Setting: Six months before the apocalypse, Mina is aware of Michael being the Antichrist but hasn’t met him in person.

A/N: For anon, I hope you enjoy! x @muted-stoneheart thank you for reading over this for me, thanks again bubbles!

Also bonus points for anyone who picks on a certain quote said by the woman herself (I couldn’t help myself) lmao. Still in a slight love/hate relationship with this.

Permanent tags and a few who i thought might enjoy it : @waitingfortheendtocome @natasha-danvers @saucy-sapphic @coconutlipss @stevenuniversetanzanite

Prompts 2,5,17

“You want us to move where because of what?!” You exclaim, looking dumbfounded at a desperate Wilhelmina. She clutches her cane in front of her, brown eyes begging you to understand as you both stand opposite one another in your shared apartment.

“To Central California, we’ll be safe there. I have it all planned out, I got two tickets that gives us access to a safe facility known as Outpost 3. My bosses may be coked up narcissists but they like me enough and know I’d be able to run the place well but I… I won’t do it without you Y/n. I need you onboard with this, please understand this is a matter of life and death.” She pleads reaching forward to take your hand. You hold your hand up in front, stopping her advance.

“Mina baby, you are not making any sense. You are telling me that in as little as six months time the world is going to end in smoke and fire and you want us to go live underground with rich strangers until what.. Everything goes back to normal again. I don’t understand what you are asking and you’re scaring me,” You inform her quietly, trying to process this new information that your girlfriend has given you.

You and Mina have been dating for nearly two years and in all that time you’ve never seen her look so terrified yet excited at the same time. You saw the glint in her eye when she first told you of her master plan to escape the upcoming apocalypse and to rule over one of the six outposts that were being built for the rich while the poor died from the nuclear bombs or worse. You understood that Mina’s empathy for others has always run thin, you were one of the few if not the only one who Mina truly cared for. You watch her take a deep breath in before releasing it in frustration, her eyes flash slightly at your lack of understanding and enthusiasm.

“That’s exactly what I’m telling you Y/N. All I ask is that you pack a few items.. Maybe that pretty lavender lingerie number that I bought you last year for your birthday and I’ll figure out the rest. Please baby don’t make me beg you…” She asks, her tone soft yet demanding. Her eyes dart away from yours suddenly finding the kitchen marble interesting, her voice like a whisper that echoes across the room to your ears.

“I can’t live… not without you.” She confesses, still unwilling to meet your surprised gaze. You knew Mina loved you even if she rarely said it out loud, see Mina showed you love with affection, personal gifts and allowing you to see her deepest scars and insecurities behind closed doors while making love but her confession shocked you nevertheless.

“Mina I’m not saying I wouldn’t go with you. This just all seems a bit crazy, I mean your bosses selling their souls to the devil who happens to have a son who's roaming the earth right now planning to destroy it and pretty much everyone on it. Tell me you understand my hesitance.” You murmur, walking towards her and delicately lifting her chin up with your finger forcing her to look at you. Her big brown eyes stand out behind her framed glasses as you go to remove them from her face, knowing she’s probably forgot that she’s still wearing them. She blinks a few times adjusting to the new sight while muttering a quick ‘thanks’. She leans her cane against the nearby chair before placing her hands on either side of your hips pushing you back slightly guiding you to the breakfast island behind you, indicating for you to hop on top so she can stand in between your legs comfortably.

“I know it’s a lot to process, I get it.. It took me a while to wrap my head around it but being around those two nutcases every damn day made it easier to understand why they didn’t have a soul, the rest just followed through. Baby this is a good opportunity for us, just imagine you and me ruling our own little underground kingdom, how satisfying does that sound hmm. I’m not embarrassed to say, it gives me a tingle.” She whispers brushing her nose against yours, her voice huskier at the thought of you standing by her side as she bends the guests to her very wimp as they beg for their life after disobeying the rules.

You roll your eyes at her idea of fun and being slightly turned on at the thought of being in control of others.

“But what about the rest of the world? Families Mina torn apart, children unable to grow up and become incredible people.who could go on to discover a new element or become the next president. Just gone, tiny specks of dust in the ground because some guy decided so.” You argue back, she pulls back a little so she can lock gazes with you dumbfound by your resilience.

“This isn’t just ‘some guy’ sweetheart, we are talking about the son of satan and all things hellish.” Mina ridicules, shaking her head at your ignorance.

“Have you met this man? Have you seen with your own two eyes what he is capable of?” You question, watching a flicker of hesitance cross her features confirming your answer without any words being spoken. Now it's your turn to look dumbfounded as you try to understand her eagerness to believe such nonsense.

“Just as I thought. Mina, this man could be insane and those two dipshits have only three things on their minds robotics, cocaine and pussy. You really wanna believe all this?” She nods her head with determination.

“I really do believe it. I’ll show you the planning if you like? I just need you on board with this Y/N. I can live with myself if the rest of the world dies out but baby, not you, never you. The only thing I have left is you, so i need you to come with me.” She speaks honestly, placing her hands on either side of your face wanting you to understand her.

“Show me the plans first Mina, then I will decide” You compromise, still feeling ridiculous that you are indulging her proposition. She smiles satisfied with your answer knowing it was the closest thing to a yes she was going to get out of you for now before she pulls away completely, moving towards her cane and heading for the kitchen door, she turns her head towards you, her face serious.

“I’ll show you the plans and I’ll prove to you that what i’m telling you isn’t some bullshit story to scare you, I’m not crazy dear.” She vows, continuing on her journey. Leaving you sat on top of the kitchen island, mind reeling from the information given to you. You know deep down somewhere that what Mina’s telling you is true. That woman is a realist who laughs at the thought of magic and spells, always believing in the science of things, never one to open her mind to more powerful beings. So there you sat waiting for her to fight her corner and prove to you that what she’s telling you is real and the idea of her mostly being right terrifies you.

But I’d go anywhere with her, even to run away from death itself.

***

“Jesus Mina and these are all the plans?” You mutter, looking closely at Mina’s tablet as you both sit at the wooden desk in her home office. The fireplace crackling to the side of you both, the light from the flames giving Mina’s side profile a soft glow of orange. As she leans over your shoulder, her finger sliding and tapping away on the tablet, showing you the other locations and its members.

“Yes, we have full access to all construction work as well. Millions of dollars have gone into this Y/N, those A-listers you see right there all know what’s going to happen. Do you think they feel guilty? Of course not.” Mina reprimands, scoffing in disgust.

“You could have gotten us into the outpost in Hawaii at least, baby,” You halfheartedly teased, still trying to process an actual response. Mina growls quietly and nipples underneath your earlobe before whispering in your ear.

“What and have you drooling over Johansson, I don’t think so. I want you all to myself.” The possessive tone makes you roll your eyes in good nature.

“So what do you think?” She asks into your ear, you hear the slight hesitancy in her voice making you turn your head to the side and placing a reassuring kiss to her cheek.

“I have one condition. You promise that you will tell me everything, from any changes to new developments. I want to know Mina, don’t keep secrets from me. I still don’t fully trust this cooperative or whatever they want to be called, especially that guy who claims to be the antichrist.” You enforce wanting her to understand that although you are agreeing to this you still have your reservations.

“Of course baby. We’re in this together darling, now about that little number… think you could put it on so we can celebrate our new move properly,” She hints before capturing your lips in a heated kiss. “So demanding.” you tease against her lips. Before you can continue with your heated makeout session Mina pinches the side of your hip making you jump slightly in the chair and yelp “Hey!” eyeing her fingers before locking eyes with her chocolate brown eyes, she smirks before replying “I won’t ask again, dear. You know where the closet is”.

With that you jump out of the chair and walk seductively out of the room before calling over your shoulder cheekily.

“See you in five minutes, my love”

***

As you lie beneath Mina, bodies glistening in the afterglow of your love making, you look up into those brown eyes above you as they sparkle with delight and admiration. Her forearms leaning on either side of her head, nose brushing eskimo kisses along your own.

“My only fear is losing you, Y/N. I hope you realise that.” She confesses, eyes wet with unushered tears as she collapses on top of you, her head tucked into the crook of your neck as you clutch onto one another.

“Of course I do, Mina. I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you either,” You reply, capturing her lips with your own in a heated kiss. You both moan in unison, loving the feeling of each other's soft lips seeking the love and comfort we share for one another. Once you pull back and settle into your new position, Mina’s head leaning against your chest where she loves to hear your heart beating steadily beneath her ears.

“We will watch the world burn bright together and bring in this new world while making love in our own hideaway, my love.” She breathes, against your naked chest nuzzling her nose against your exposed skin.

And for the first time tonight, you were looking forward to spending your days in your own little kingdom with the redhead. As long as you have her, you’ll be content for the rest of your days no matter how long or short that might be.

If you would like to be added to the tag list, just ask!

#wilhelmina venable x reader #sarah paulson x reader #venable x reader #ahs apocalypse #mina x reader #mina has my heart

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lov3nerdstuff · 4 years

Text

Voluptas Noctis Aeternae {Part 6.4}

*Severus Snape x OC*

Summary: It is the year 1983 when the ordinary life of Robin Mitchell takes a drastic turn: she is accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Despite the struggles of being a muggle-born in Slytherin, she soon discovers her passion for Potions, and even manages the impossible: gaining the favor of Severus Snape. Throughout the years, Robin finds that the not quite so ordinary Potions Professor goes from being a brooding stranger to being more than she had ever deemed possible. An ally, a mentor, a friend... and eventually, the person she loves the most. Through adventure, prophecies and the little struggles of daily life in a castle full of mysteries, Robin chooses a path for herself, an unlikely friendship blossoms into something more, and two people abandoned by the world can finally find a home.

General warnings: professor x student, blood, violence, trauma, neglectful families, bullying, cursing

Words: 4.7k

Read Part 1.1 here! All Parts can be found on the Masterlist!

______________________________

The moment they were back in Snape's office, Robin got started on making them coffee. It was early afternoon by now, and she was well aware that there still was plenty of work to be done before they could move on over to the lab. Once again she offered her help with his work, but his (admittedly very much justified) objection remained that he couldn't let her grade other students' essays, and Robin had to accept that. Thus she merely sat down at the smaller table with her own coffee after handing him his, and henceforth listened to him complaining about the many stupid mistakes the second years had made in their essays. Eventually it became a real game between them, to keep a list of the most ridiculous things people had written in their essays, and to rank them by their level of idiocy. Robin, void of anything else to do for once, actually wrote it all down on a piece of parchment, both the most ridiculous statements and the ranking points they had given them.

In the end, they successfully managed to miss dinner entirely, as their game was more entertaining than either of them had anticipated. But the work was done, and Robin was proud to say that she had made it less dreadful for him after all. Even if not entirely on purpose, but still very much willingly.

"You know, you could probably fill an entire lesson just with reading out the dumbest quotes on this list and have the students figure out why it's so wrong." Robin sighed with a smirk as she stretched in her chair. The piece of parchment in front of her looked almost like a piece of art at this point, littered not only with the most desperately wrong quotes from the essays, but also Robin's corrections of them, as well as some extended elaborations on the matter and little drawings of ingredients. Yes, she had been that bored between judging ridiculous quotes.

"I could. Should I, however?" He raised an eyebrow at Robin with a not-smirk while he got up from behind his desk at last, only to sit down again across from her at the small table. Without taking his eyes off hers, he snatched the piece of parchment out from under her fingertips and only then lowered his gaze to inspect it. A few seconds passed before he frowned, and Robin smiled.

"I think you should." She remarked innocently, replying to his earlier question while leaning back in her chair. "Have them correct the mistakes, that is, not mock the person who made them."

"I am surprised that you bothered to correct them."

"Didn't have much else to do between judging students' idiocracy. Besides, at this point I really should know the second year topics, shouldn't I? Did them twice, after all."

"Twice because…?"

"Once in my own second year and then again last year when tutoring Jorien and Cas. So technically I only did them once, and then tried to teach them a second time."

"You still tutor your roommates regularly?"

"Yeah." Robin shrugged with a smile. "Not just them though, and by far not only in potions. Just this morning I actually had sixteen students, can you imagine?! Sixteen thirteen-year-olds! And they actually listened to what I said!!!"

Now Snape's eyebrows rose in surprise, but the not-smirk turned into a real one; small, but definitely visible. "I had no idea that was even a possibility."

"Me neither!" Robin laughed, then kept on grinning. "So, just in case you get a suspicious amount of high quality essays from your third years next week, you know who to blame. Or who to thank."

"We will see about that." He replied with the same smirk, but then continued on a more serious note as he took another look at the parchment in his hands. "May I keep this?"

"Sure." Robin shrugged easily, and for whatever reason her heart skipped a beat. "I hope you can decipher all of it… I didn't specifically try for readability."

"I have been reading your handwriting for years, Robin. Not only in tests or essays written specifically to be handed in, but in scribbles and working notes as well. I would even say I know it quite as well as my own."

"Good." Robin couldn't help grinning at him with enough excitement to make him frown a little in suspicion. Before he could ask however, she had already summoned her handbook out of her backpack and dropped it on the table in front of him with a dull thud. "Because there's something else I have been dying to show you."

_______________

A quiet rustling of sheets, soft breathing, hushed whispers. "Robin…" The mattress dipped gently at her side. She smiled, curling a little closer around the new source of warmth. "ROBIN!!!"

She jumped at the loud voice, sitting up with a start, and her head bumped against something hard in an instant.

"Ow…" She grumbled with a deep frown, rubbing her now aching forehead in an instant, while her eyes finally went into focus enough to see Cas sitting in front of her on her bed, rubbing her forehead just the same. Jorien sat on the other side, laughing at both their misery without a hint of guilt or pity.

"Very funny, you guys…" Robin groaned tiredly as she crossed her legs underneath her to make room for the two girls. "The last time you woke me up like this was-..."

"Happy birthday, Robin!" Both girls cheered before she could finish her sentence, and Robin had to smile despite the small mishap.

"Thank you! Is it really the twentieth already? Again?" She sighed, but by now she knew that resistance to Cas was hard, and resistance to Jorien was entirely futile.

"Twentieth of October, six o'clock in the morning!" Cas grinned, and crossed her legs as well while Jorien followed suit a few seconds later.

"Six?! Good gods…" Robin groaned exaggeratedly and frowned at them with a desperate smile. "Why on earth would you wake me up this early?"

"Because it's Thursday and our present for you requires some time before breakfast." Jorien replied factually, and Cas nodded in her usual giddy eagerness.

"Do I need to be scared?" Robin inquired with a raised eyebrow and an amused smile. She knew that look on their faces, and she knew that they were up to something. A second later, a small box very much like the one she had received last year was placed in her lap and Robin opened it with a curious smile. When her eyes fell onto the contents however, her brows furrowed, and she looked up at Cas and Jorien with a big question mark on her face.

"We're not doing anything you don't want to, of course… But you liked those onyx earrings so much when we went to Hogsmeade, so we decided to get them for you." Cas shrugged with an excited smile, and Jorien merely nodded in no less amusement.

"That is very sweet of you, but you realize that I don't actually have any holes in my ears but the ones nature demands, yes?"

"Yet. That is part of the present." Cas replied mischievously, and both girls smiled at Robin in a way that made her realize that they were absolutely serious in what they were planning to do. It humored her more than it probably should have.

"Alright." Robin said with an easy smile. "Thank you for the lovely present. If you take joy in stabbing holes into my skin, feel free to. I don't mind."

"Wait… really?!" Cas frowned incredulously. "I thought you were going to protest! I prepared an entire speech to convince you that it was for the best!"

"I told you she would be all for it." Jorien shrugged at her friend, with a humored smile similar to the one Robin wore herself. "And you didn't write a speech, you practiced saying 'please' in as many ways as possible."

"Don't tell her that!" Cas protested with a roll of her eyes, and Robin merely had to chuckle at the two of them. They were like an old married couple sometimes, and it was hilarious and adorable at once to observe. Cas turned to Robin once again. "Anyway, we asked McGonagall for a spell to pierce your ears that wouldn't blow your head off along the way, so you don't have to worry about a thing. It's all approved and safe for use."

"I'm not worried." Robin replied easily, and really she thought the idea was rather sweet. It was such a typical teenager thing to do… something of the kind she had never spent a second thinking about before now. But to Cas and Jorien it actually seemed to be of immense importance to do this themselves, and Robin felt touched that they included her in their spark of youthful rebellion. And she wouldn't mind getting her ears pierced after all. "So… You actually asked McGonagall for a spell?"

"Who did you expect us to ask?! What Professor Snape is for you, McGonagall is for Jorien. I'm just swimming on her wave." Cas explained, then motioned for Jorien to go ahead and do the actual work. A typical Cas move, giving the speech and leaving the work for someone else. "This is probably going to hurt, so you might want to grab something."

"Don't worry, it takes a lot to hurt me these days." Robin sighed and for once, she would just have to trust them; there wasn't much that could go wrong anyway. "But try to keep my head intact, alright?"

Ten minutes later, and luckily without any accidents, Robin had two neat holes in her ears and could at last make use of the gift she'd received. Two studs of black onyx, small but just as gorgeous as she remembered them to be from the two times they had looked at them through the shopwindow in Hogsmeade. She smiled when she looked at herself in the mirror, admiring the subtle new detail about her appearance. The deep black really was a sharp contrast to her ashen skin, but so was her dark hair anyway. The new piece of jewelry probably wouldn't be all too noticeable in comparison to that.

"You look absolutely gorgeous, birthday girl…" Cas declared dramatically, still lounging on Robin's bed even while Robin herself had gotten up. "Now we just need to get a little colour onto your face and you're ready to seize this day!"

Robin spun around to face them in an instant, glaring at the two girls in both horror and defense. There was a lot she would let them do to her, but that most definitely did not include turning her into a canary! "Cas no! Absolutely not!"

"Cas yes!"

"Jorien?" Robin pleaded with both her tone and her eyes while moving back over to her bed and to the girls. "I already let you make holes into my ears!"

"Sorry, but it's all part of our present." Jorien shrugged with a sympathetic half smile before she moved off the bed to get ready. "Just let it happen."

"What is your present if it includes piercing my ears and painting my face?!"

"We're making you pretty, dumbass! Like they do in the movies!" Cas groaned loudly and rolled off the bed as well to pad back towards her own. "You're bloody 17 now! And you still don't have any dates! We're trying to get you one."

"Not that again…" Robin sighed in return, hiding her head in her hands for a moment to regain some composure before she started getting dressed for the day of classes. "Don't you guys have anything better to do than meddling in my affairs?"

"No." Both Jorien and Cas replied at the same time, then giggled at their synchrony, and Robin finally had to realize that resistance was futile indeed. Sometimes living with thirteen-year-olds demanded a sacrifice; sometimes Robin just had to make concessions to their youth. And honestly, she couldn't deny them a thing, being as excited as they were about this now.

"Fine…" She sighed at last, mindlessly buttoning up her blouse with long practiced moments, then tugged it into her trousers. "You may paint my face if it means so much to you. But I'll get the bathroom first, now and all to myself. And I forbid you to use anything actually colourful."

"But colour is the best part! It's ALL colour!!!" Cas cried as she struggled into her tights. "Some charcoal would do wonders on your eyes!"

"Black isn't actually a colour but a value." Jorien corrected with a roll of her eyes. "So technically you can use all the black, white and grey you want."

"Precisely! Thank you, Jorien, your thought-out input is always very much appreciated." Robin smiled proudly at the girl, who in return grinned to herself upon the praise. "Now, do we have an agreement? I get the bathroom first and you will use no colours, but you may otherwise do with my hair and face as you please. Deal?"

"Deal!"

… … …

In the end, Robin had to make another compromise: in exchange for not getting any brown paste and powder onto her face, which Cas seemed to be very fond of unfortunately, she had to agree to let them use colours, dark colours, on her eyes. Thus Robin ended up sitting on her bed, sighing repeatedly, while Cas painted her face and Jorien braided her hair. Honestly, she still didn't know how or why exactly she (the older one!) had become their dress up doll, but under the pretext of 'making her look pretty for her birthday', Robin still found herself unable to deny them. Even if, on the inside, she very much felt like running.

When all three of them made their way towards the great hall for breakfast at last, Robin still felt mildly uncomfortable. The braid Jorien had forced her hair into was rather charming actually, and also very much useful to keep the wavy, bushy mess out of her face, but she wasn't so sure about the 'smokey' black, brown and green Cas had layered around her eyes. Robin felt more like a raccoon than herself… but in comparison to what some (few) of her classmates wore on a daily basis, or those women in the magazines Cas read instead of books, it still was subtle enough to tolerate for a day. Makeup may be fun for some other people, which was fine, but it most definitely wasn't for Robin and she had a rather strong interest in not repeating this masquerade. Oh well… she still would be racoon-Robin for a day now. Besides, it would break the girls' hearts if she didn't suffer through it with a smile on her face, so that's what she did as they hurried to breakfast.

"And where would we be coming from?" A taunting voice stopped all three of them just outside the great hall, and Robin had to smile while the other two looked rather panicked upon the unexpected appearance of their potions teacher. "Miss Miller, Miss Blakeley… Punctuality is a virtue, not an option. Breakfast started fifteen minutes ago. You are late."

"So are you, professor..." Robin replied with an innocent smile, which however turned into more of a smirk as soon as her eyes met his. "Isn't that a funny coincidence?"

Snape approached them with long strides and his usual public facade, and the closer he came, the more Cas and Jorien hid behind Robin. She still didn't understand how they could miss the humor in his face that even now was obvious as day! All they saw was the menacing scowl he wanted them to see. That they probably wanted to see as well; expectation and prejudice were the masters of deceit in one's own mind.

"Funny." He said to Robin in a particularly flat tone that made her bite her lip to keep from laughing, then he turned to look at Jorien and Cas instead. "You two would do well to be on time from now on, even if for a mere meal. I tolerate no slacking. Now find your seats before your classmates leave nothing but their empty plates for you." With that, he motioned for them to get going, clasping his hands behind his back with that indifferent look that made Robin smile even more.

"Robin…? Are you coming?" Jorien asked carefully while Cas straight out started walking off already, gaining as much distance to Snape as possible until she disappeared out of sight. Jorien still stood between Robin and the doors, looking at her insecurely.

"You should be fine without your precious Robin for five minutes, or is that too much to ask?" Snape drawled in feigned annoyance, and Robin gave him a look before turning to Jorien.

"I'll be there in five minutes, just save me a seat and some toast, will you?" She smiled at the girl as positively as possible, who only nodded with a weak smile in return before quickly following behind Cas, out of sight.

"Did you have to scold them for something so minor?" Robin finally asked as she turned back to Snape with a small frown. "They were only late because of me, or rather because of what they did for me. Today, at least…" Really, they were usually late for all meals. No matter what day it was, and no matter if they were with Robin or without her.

"Had they been any later, all they would have found left is scrapings. It might have slipped your notice, but their classmates are more animals than civilised beings when it comes to meals." He pointed out calmly, and Robin had to sigh. He was right. "Unless you wish to show them how to use the kitchens or leave them to fend for themselves in the future, I would prefer to teach them punctuality."

"Yeah, alright, I see your point." She said with another sigh. "Nevermind. I usually prefer being early anyway."

"I am aware." He replied with a not-smirk, upon which Robin had to smile again as well. "Is that colour in your face the reason for your mutual lateness?"

"Ah, well, yes." Robin chuckled awkwardly, and before she knew her fingers nervously brushed over the rough spot of skin on her neck again. "It is, uh… it's part of their birthday present to me, I guess. They insisted on it."

For a moment Snape observed her closely, with a curious frown that made Robin feel both nervous and tingly. He leaned a little closer for a second, then back again. "Something else about you is different than it was yesterday evening, but I cannot tell what it is."

"Well, uh, I also let them pierce my ears, because they really wanted to, so it's probably that." Robin shrugged with an almost apologetic frown. Did he observe everyone that closely? Probably.

His eyebrows rose in surprise, torn between incredulity, humor and irritation. "Why would you let them do all that to you? I was under the impression that people did nice things for others on their birthdays…"

"They gave me earrings, so they also had to make sure I could wear them. And as for the colour on my face… you better don't ask what made them do that to me." She shrugged again, deeming the way he said 'nice' highly amusing. "I let them do it because it quite obviously made them happy."

"It is your birthday. People are supposed to ensure you are happy."

"Oh, I'm quite happy as it is." Robin replied with a small smirk, and a soaring heart once more. "I can manage looking like a raccoon for the day. Perhaps it'll scare Morgan off at least."

A quiet snort escaped him before he could make an effort to remain stoic, and even then he seemed to struggle not to smirk. "Raccoon certainly is not what I think of when I look at you, Robin. But you make me curious about their reason to obviously try for exactly that visual."

Now Robin had to snort as well, shaking her head to herself. Damn, she didn't want to tell him… but she also knew that she could deny him even less than the two girls. What was it about the people she cared about?! The only weak spot she knew of, and they all were entirely oblivious to it.

"If you have to know, they wanted to make me look pretty for the day." She sighed, but as soon as he even made an attempt to reply, she added, "Don't. Please. No scorn or mocking on my birthday. I know I look stupid, but I have to make concessions if I want to keep my sanity when living with them, and this was such an instance. I could have looked far worse."

"I was merely going to say that they obviously have a strange concept of beauty if they are blind enough to try to cover it up with paint." He said as if it wasn't enough to make Robin's entire body feel too hot all of a sudden. Actually, he didn't even seem to realize what exactly he had just said in the first place as he went on. "I do very well understand your need to make concessions, and your diplomacy is certainly appropriate. However you don't have to tolerate everything they do to you merely because I told you to watch over them."

"I know. That's not why I do it, not at all." She sighed, regaining control over her heartbeat by simply ignoring what he hadn't even said on purpose. "They care about me, they really do, and they only want the best for me in their own kind of way. A thirteen-year-old way, which unfortunately entails trying to draw more positive attention to me."

He frowned at that, with a lingering hint of amusement. "They paint your eyes black to draw positive attention to you? How… curious."

"I know, right?" She huffed in both humor and dread. "I for my part like black better than anything else they could've put on my fave, but it's probably the wrong colour to make other people think 'pretty' and not 'scary'. I forbid them to use bright colours though, so perhaps it is my fault that I'll scare people off all day, which I do almost every day anyway, so-..."

"Robin." He quirked an eyebrow at her, and Robin took a deep breath to untangle the mess in her head that caused her to ramble.

"Yes. Sorry. Nevermind, just forget about it."

"Give me your hand." He ordered calmly an instant later, holding his own out to her with his palm facing up. Robin's heart skipped a beat, but she did as he said without question, placing her hand in his only to feel the familiar surge of electricity running up her arm and through her body.

To her surprise, he turned her hand around to rest in his with the inside facing up as well. Then, without a word, a small spark of light flickered to life inside her palm. It glowed softly in different colours that came and went so quickly it left the light white, an addition of all colours, and yet black at once in its subtraction. Robin couldn't have described it even if she'd wanted to, for her eyes and mind were too drawn to their hands to even try such a thing. The spark grew, not into a bigger light, but into a shape, a web of atoms that made up matter one by one. It grew, blossomed and rooted until at last it took on the unmistakable shape of a flower. A flower Robin had never seen before, one that was entirely black in its impossible existence, but yet consisted of all the colours in existence indeed. She couldn't take her eyes of it as it rested in her palm, all light gone but the impossible colours remained. His hand was still curled around hers, long fingers brushing against the delicate skin of her wrist beneath the cuff of her blouse… Robin didn't know which of the two fascinated, enchanted her more. Perhaps both did, in a different way.

"Now, would you expect someone to deem this flower scary?" He asked after a few seconds, dropping his hand from hers at last.

"No…" Robin replied quietly, holding the blossom in her palm like the greatest treasure. "It's beautiful, breathtaking even. I've never seen anything like it."

"Because it stems from your mind alone, which makes it entirely unique in its existence."

"But, how… I mean…" She didn't even know what to say, leave alone what to think, neither in a positive nor in a negative way. Why had he shown this beautiful piece of magic to her? Why hadn't she known that he could do something like this in the first place?! The overwhelming urge to be closer to him overcame her when she looked up at him, and it couldn't even be lessened by his perfect neutral facade. Gods, why did he always hide when she wanted to see him the most?! "Why?"

"It is nothing but a reminder that darkness does not scare everyone." He replied neutrally, neither bothering to feign indifference nor to let his honest expression shine through. A few seconds passed in silence, and they merely looked at each other as they did so often.

"Thank you." Robin finally said, giving him the most sincere smile that had graced her lips all day. "It's a lovely gift."

"It isn't a gift." He was quick to respond though, frowning first, then looking almost humored again. "But it might counteract the racoon visual nonetheless."

Robin chuckled, closing her eyes for a second to dwell in the happiness of the moment. The overwhelming bunch of emotions tied to the impossible flower in her hand. "Well, thank you either way. I appreciate your help with my facial issues."

Finally the not-smirk was back on his face, and if Robin wasn't mistaken, so was the humor in his eyes. "What kind of… person would I be if I didn't help you even with the most obscure problems?" Again he raised his eyebrows at her, and she smiled brightly enough to light up the entire hallway, until he spoke on. "That, among other things, is why I want you to be prepared at two o'clock this afternoon."

"Huh?" Robin's brows furrowed into a deep frown in an instant. "Prepared for what?"

"To play along." He smirked for real this time, quite obviously basking in her confusion. "You will see."

Then, without another word, Snape turned on his spot and disappeared down the hallway towards the dungeons before Robin could say another thing. Two seconds later, the doors to the great hall were opened by the first students already leaving breakfast, and they stormed the hallway with enough noise and chattering to break Robin free of her frozen state. Did Snape actually enjoy being that cryptic?! He probably did; insufferable idiot.

Robin sighed to herself, looking at the flower in her hand in careful consideration, then moved to tie it into her hair with a smile. Having this little piece of magic with her, his magic, would certainly make her day a lot better, even if it was prone to cause her constant tingles. Who cares… it was her birthday, she could allow herself to enjoy one single day of dwelling in her feelings. And besides, nobody had to know who had given her such an impossible flower; it wasn't a gift after all, just a point proven.

As Robin made her way into the great hall at last, hoping that at least some kind of food was left for her, she wondered what would be happening at two o'clock. She really couldn't wait to know. Then again, the anticipation and excitement of not knowing was also quite delightful. Two o'clock… that was a third into her defense against the dark arts class. And that meant whatever was going to happen, it could only be an improvement.

______________________________

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stylesnews · 4 years

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Meyers, however, did not share in that fear, as much of this video provided for interesting and new opportunities he had yet to experience throughout his decades-long career, which he listed off: ”Compelling narrative, CG character, remote location, Scottish crew (nothing fazed them),” also noting that all of the other characters in the video were locals as well. So perhaps they were less fazed by the atmosphere across the four-day shoot in Scotland, but as Meyers recalled, the “weather was nuts. It rained every 20 minutes, then the sun, then cloud over.”

#harry styles #aug20 #adore you #decider #suicide tw

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patchoulimademoiselle · 4 years

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Guilty. (Part 2.)

Part Two.

Steve Rogers (Lawyer AU) x Reader Insert.

Word count: 4.9k

Warnings: Natasha Romanoff gives off crazy sex appeal, smoking, self destructive habits, laguange, masturbation, SMUT, fingering, choking.

Masterlist.

Part two:

The next time you see Steve, he's freshly showered with wet hair, clad in a navy suit that brings out the blue of his eyes. He looks tired, even despite all he's done to clean himself up. His eyes are red, his face expressionless, and if it weren't for the coffee in his hand you would be concerned he won't make it through the day.

He grabs you when he gets close enough, hand on your elbow to pull you in close, "I need you on the next one." Is all he says, voice a whisper.

"What is it?" You ask, hand on his chest to stop him from walking inside your office. Wanda is here, and you have something you need to tell him as well. "We need to talk. Privately."

He nods, glancing down at his wrist watch. "Your place in an hour, I need to pack up here. Send Wanda home, don't let her do anything else."

That gets your head spinning, gears turning, the strange way she was acting this morning and the urgency in his demeanor, something is wrong. Very wrong.

You nod, patting twice where your hand rests. You turn on your heel, leaving him to watch after you. You place your hand on Wanda's shoulder, "You've done great today, hun. But I'm going to pack up and head out, you need to do the same. Can you take the metro?"

She nods. "Yeah, sure. Found something worth chasing?" She asks, pencil dropping in her hand.

"Something like that." You sigh. "I'll call you when I need you again. Be safe, and let me know when you're home."

"Sure thing." She looks happy to be sent home early, but annoyed. You woke her up early only to send her home after a few hours. Hopefully you would be able to explain yourself, but for now, she's a liability, and she needs to be gone.

You lock the door behind her, turning to Steve who stands with his arms crossed, deep in thought even though his eyes are already on you.

"Wanda said something to me today-"

"Her brother is involved."

"What?" He cuts you off before you could even finish.

"Her brother is a lawyer on the case. He's her twin, young and inexperienced just like her. But he's licensed, and he's working the case."

You're shocked, sinking back against the door for support. "Do you think she's been leaking information?"

He shakes his head. "No, she doesn't know anything, because we don't know anything."

It's an exaggeration, but it's true, you've hardly covered anything at all for her to start leaking information to her brother. She may not even know he's on the case yet, let alone been able to agree to spy for him.

"So what do we do?" You ask.

"Keep her here, see if she talks." He says, hand on his chin. "Filter her tasks, minor enough to not be important, but important enough to not make her think we're on to her."

"That or miss-feed her." You suggest. "She won't be present in court, she isn't permitted to be without my permission. Whatever she feeds them should be off stray enough to give us an advantage."

"That's good." He nods, eyes flicking to you for a moment. "That's real good."

You have the nerve to smile, letting out a puff of air. You won't tell him about the car ride this morning, at least not yet. Not until he's settled. He's still stressed, you can see it on the wrinkles on his forehead, in the way his fingers twitch against his chin. You know what he's going to ask before he asks it, eyes floating up to your face. "Cigarette?"

You nod to your purse, and he's quick to get it for himself, not even caring to step out on the balcony before lighting one to smoke it. You eye the smoke detector warily. "I need you to come with me for the next one. It's a woman, Natasha Romanoff, and she's going to eat me alive the moment she sets eyes on me."

You aren't sure what that means, but you know it can't be good. You've never heard of her, lawyer or not, and that's never a good sign.

"What do you need me for?" You ask.

"You're a woman, you can read other women. It's up to you to decide if she's full of shit or not."

He speaks so bluntly, as if you two are nothing more than colleagues after all, and a part of you feels uneasy about it. It feels like you're walking into a trap, it feels like all the odds have been stacked against you, and rather than reassure you, his anxiety is making you feel even worse.

"Steve, stop talking like this." You groan, slamming your head back against the door. You still haven't walked away from it. "You're making it sound like we're apart of the mafia and not the public justice system."

He smiles, eyes a little lighter. "We might as well be." Is all he says, walking towards the balcony, letting himself outside.

If you weren't tired before you definitely are now, the lack of sleep the night before on top of all this excitement was proving to be too much for you. You sit back at your desk and take a sip of water, closing your eyes for a moment. You reflect on everything you've just learned, the risk you're taking by keeping Wanda on your team.

She's a good girl, hard working, and it hurts to think that she may betray you down the road. It would be easier to let her go now, gently and easily, tell her that the firm doesn't have enough funding to pay her, tell her that you're unfit to have an assistant. Anything is better than letting the poor girl walk into a trap. You can hear Steve scolding you before you even suggest it. Letting her go would not only be a sign of weakness, exposing a soft spot to women on your team, but also alerting Stark's lawyers that you know what their next move will be. The small advantage you have will be gone in an instant.

The life of a lawyer is a hard one.

"Falling asleep on me?" Steve knocks against your desk top, your eyes snap open to glare at him.

"I wish." You groan, sitting up in your chair. "What do we need to go to my place for?"

"In an hour," He reminds you. "We have something else to talk about, something entirely unrelated to this case."

That has your attention, sleep deprivation leaving you. "About?"

There's a smile on his face that you can't place, a ghost of a smirk curling his lips in a way that makes your stomach flip and flushes your cheeks. "You'll see." He doesn't give you time to dwell on it, nodding towards the door, telling you it's time to go.

You grab your purse and take one last sip of water, pushing your hair back off your face before you stand. Your heels echo as you follow after him, making sure to lock the door to your office behind you.

Natasha Romanoff is a character, that's all you can say while being respectful of her practice as a former lawyer. She's witty, giving off a sex appeal that leaves even you flustered a few times, not to mention Steve. He's a speechless fool every time she locks eyes with him, and a part of you is jealous by that, the other part knowing you have no choice but to speak up and save him from the torture she's putting him through. It's all a test, and now you understood your purpose in going along. He needed saving, a solid reminder to remain professional no matter what. If you weren't there, she probably would have tried to seduce him.

But you don't fall under her spell so easily, remaining stone faced as she throws her best wit at you, and her most obscene pick up lines. She's good. She knows how good she looks, and she uses it to her full advantage. It's a dirty trick to use in a court room, but it's gained her a successful career that you can only dream off, so you try to show her nothing but respect as you drill her with your questions.

"We're here about Stark." You cut the formalities, Steve shifts and readjusts his suit jacket. "We can't walk into this blind, we need to know his strategies."

She's smiling at you over a cup of tea, she offered you one and of course you both declined, not classy enough to drink something like tea. "Stark is unpredictable." She says, lipstick leaving a bright red print behind on her cup. "Let's start there."

Notepad and pen at the ready, Steve pulls out his phone to record, setting it out on the table for all to see. Natasha takes note of it and rolls her eyes. "You can quote me on anything you want, but don't think I'm going to testify." She says. "Stark will ruin all of us, don't be stupid."

It was stupid, the way Steve laid all of your cards out on the table. It shows how desperate you really are, you have no tricks up your sleeve and no back up plan. But the again, it could be a front. Natasha doesn't know that you have a potential spy on your team, she also doesn't know that you're fully aware of just how desperate Stark must be as well. Either way, you trust her enough to be truthful, but calling her to the stand would be a suicide mission. She's obviously afraid of Stark, and you aren't blind to the fact that she would turn on you if it were in her favor.

"We don't want you on the stand." Steve says what you were thinking, and you try to hide a smile. "We just want to know what he'll try to throw at us."

You're in sync, two of the same mind, and my god, if there was ever a time you wanted to kiss him, it would be right now. He looks so serious, determination spread across his features, yet there's a tint to his cheeks that gives away his exhaustion, the lack of sleep you had the night before would soon catch up with you both, coffee or not, and you have a feeling that somehow it's going to inconvenience you.

"Everything he can." Natasha sets down her tea cup, shifting in her seat. "Especially whatever this is." She waves a finger between you both, "This protectiveness you have of each other will be the end of you. They'll dig into it and exploit it."

You know that, Steve knows that, and it's the very reason that there is nothing going on between you to begin with. But the chemistry is there, there is no hiding that. A stranger could tell, a woman who has laid eyes on you for just a few minutes. It's obvious that there is something, even if it's not official, and even if it hasn't been explored.

If her observation phases him, he doesn't let it show, eyebrows furrowed. "He plays dirty, sure. We know that. Tell me something I can't hear anywhere else," Steve says. "What has he asked from you personally as a lawyer."

Her eyes slit down into a glare, one that stops your heart beat even though it isn't directed at you. "I'm not going to testify."

"Yes, we know." You sigh, tapping a single fingernail on the table. "Off the record, the recording is just for our notes. Just tell us exactly how dirty he can get. What are some things that he's asked of you in the past?" What laws has he broken?

She hesitates, pondering her options and their consequences, then lets out a heavy sigh, settling back into her seat with her fingers pressed to her temples. "This is going to ruin my credibility." She says. "I can't give you specifics, but he does like to bend the rules a bit. He looks for loopholes, breaking one law in favor of another to cover his ass."

She stands, walking back to her desk and pulling open a drawer, you and Steve exchange a look, his hand clamps down on your thigh as he offers you a tired smile, forced, but the gesture shines through nonetheless. "I do have something I can give you though. It's a case I worked on, it was kept out of the media, but there may be some details here that can help you." She digs around, fingers skimming alphabetically arranged folders, plucking one up and bringing it back over to you. "It's a lawsuit over workers comp'," She says, eyes on you. "It's not much, but it's all I can offer."

It's good enough, she's smart, and she knows exactly what's being put on the line by helping you. So you take what you can get, nodding, you take the file from her hand. "Thank you." You say, standing, and Steve follows suit. You shake her hand. "You know how the reach us, let me know if we can ever return the favor in the future."

You've made an ally, you realize now that Natasha wasn't a dirty lawyer, she was just smart enough to know better than risk her career and reputation. She's got a bit of red in her ledger, but by helping you she's wiping it out, doing what she can where she can, and you respect it wholeheartedly.

You both leave, Steve's hand on your back to push you forward as you leave Natasha's office. In his car, you open the file she gave you, looking over the case she was assigned. It's a couple years old, but fairly similar to what you're dealing with. Stark Industries refusing to pay a worker, the lawsuit was buried under false claims of fraud, the employee was fired and had to pay a settlement fine. "Steve," You reach over and pat his arm, his eyes floating over to you for a moment, his hand flexing on the steering wheel. "This is golden."

The small handout Natasha gave you is huge, a gold mine, all you had to do was find this former employee and convince them to go on the stand along with James Barnes. "What is it?" Steve asks.

"You need to meet with, Brock Rumlow." Your eyes scan the file. "Former employee who sued for workers comp, Stark buried him under false fraud charges."

Steve hums, thumb tapping against the steering wheel, "I'll go by tomorrow after I look over his file. Offer him immunity, and a chance to reopen his case. He'll be fully compensated, there's no reason he'll say no if he's looking for a chance to get his justice."

You sound like vigilantes, smiling to yourself as you shut the file and tuck it into your purse for safe keeping. You don't go back to the office, Steve turns down your street and you remember suddenly that he wanted to meet at your place. The nerves set in immediately, a silence falling between you as he pulls into your driveway, cutting the engine of his car.

He takes off his seat belt, shifts a bit to look at you, and for the first time, you're nervous to be alone with him.

"Of all the years I've known you, I've never known you to be shy, Y/n." He says, tone deep and voice mocking your demeanor.

You glare over at him, "I've never known you to be so reserved with me."

Both are lies. You were shy at first, eager to please and never wanting to disappoint, his every criticism molding you into the lawyer you are today. He was never open with you at first, his trust was something you had to earn, but now that your dynamic was established, the silence between you feels like something from a past life. You, a shiny new assistant, and he your mentor. A flash back into the past, you feel so small sitting next to him.

You expect him to say something coy, but his eyes are tired as he looks at you. "Are you going to invite me in or not?"

With a roll of your eyes, and him hot on your trail, you get out of the car and unlock the front door, letting him inside. You step out of your heels, dropping in height, and move quickly to get away from him before he can comment on it. You head into the kitchen, putting on a fresh pot of coffee, turning to find him standing at the island, eyes locked on you.

"What did you want to talk about?" You lean back against the sink, arms crossed, a safe distance between you. Yet you still feel a bit flustered under his gaze.

"Us," He says it simply, as if that should answer your question. "This case is going to be dangerous for us."

The way he says the word sends a chill up your spine, and you can't stop yourself from shivering. The word weighs heavily in your mind and on his tongue, the hint of something more, the same something everyone sees but you're too afraid to acknowledge.

"There is no us."

The words sound flat to your own ears, unconvinced, and the pointed look he gives you from across the island says the same. "There is an us." He says, palms flat on the marble table top. "It's forbidden, and unspoken, but it's there." He pauses, sighs to himself, "And it's driving me crazy."

Driving him crazy, your memories take you back to your fresh days at the firm, those days where you didn't have to pretend not to like each other, where you could bask in his appreciative gaze and not have to think twice about the consequences. You wish it could feel that way now, pinned under his stare, you wish you could enjoy it, but all you feel is the risk you're taking by even been here right now, completely alone in your house where anyone could assume anything.

He licks his lips, makes a move to step around the counter, and you stop him before he can get any closer, finger pointed at him in warning, "Don't you dare."

Don't you dare come any closer because I won't be able to stop myself.

You busy yourself with pouring two mugs of coffee, adding cream and sugar for him, just sugar for you, glaring at the man as you slide his mug across the island to him. He matches your stare, forever challenging you, not stopping even as he takes a sip.

"We can't." Is all you say. "We can't, and you know we can't. So don't."

The air falls silent between you, and for a moment you think he's going to listen to you. You think he's going to stay away and stick to the rules he set long ago when you first met. But then he sets his mug down, rounding the island to takes yours from you as well, setting it aside.

He's on you quick, fingers on your jaw to hold you in place as he captures your lips in a warm kiss. Your eyes flutter closed, the feeling you've longed for washing over you, leaning into his touch. His other hand is on your hip, grip digging in, and it's enough to snap you out of it.

You pull back, leaning over the sink behind you. He tries to follow. "Steve-" Your voice comes out as a strangled wine, and it doesn't help your case, his lips peppering against your jaw instead.

"Everything you do is such a tease." He says, fingers sliding down your throat. "Even when you try to resist me, you were designed to tempt me."

You don't know where this is coming from, he always seems so collected around you. But here, now, he's losing it, your very existence eating away at his resolve.

"Your little skirts and high heels, you have no idea-" He cuts himself off, shoulders rising with each breath he takes, grinding his hips against you, and oh, you feel it.

You aren't a lawyer right now, all your training and years of experience out of the window. Right now you were completely at his mercy, held under his grip, right where he wants you. You gasp as you feel his grip tighten around your neck, pulling you to meet his lips once again.

You don't resist the second time, eyes closing as you wrap your arms around his neck. He hums against your lips, approval, hands dropping to hoist you up on the edge of your sink, prying your legs apart to wrap around his torso.

You can feel his bare hands on your thighs, inching their way up under your skirt, it makes you flinch, touch starved, not expecting the intimacy of him holding you here like this. Your thoughts betray you, your body betrays you, your back arching into his touch, pressing you against his chest. You've had a little taste, his hands warm as they explore, and now you've decided you want more.

His lips are warm with coffee, lips sweet with sugar, and when he grinds into you this time, you feel it right between your legs, the material of his pants brushing against your panties. You don't hold back this time, moaning into his mouth. He swallows it eagerly, tugging you even closer if possible.

"Do you remember?" He whispers against your lips, letting you catch your breath. "Do you remember how I used to spread you out on my desk just like this?"

He doesn't let you answer though, eyes falling from yours to examine you fully, and you can feel when his gaze reaches your sex, "Cute panties."

You want him to ruin them, push them to the side and stretch them out as he fucks you. Right here, bent over the sink like you're the house keeper, his dirty little secret.

A whine slips past your lips at the thought, your legs squeezing his hips in an attempt to grant yourself some kind of friction, and he had the nerve to coo at you, kissing your lips. "You little succubus." He says, "I've dreamed about this."

Something about Steve Rogers naked in bed and dreaming of you sounds dirty, and you decide you like it, suddenly his kisses aren't enough for you.

"Steve-" Again, you call his name, not sure what else to say. But the urgency is there, the strain in your voice and the desperation in your eyes is all clear to him as you muster up enough courage to touch him, fingers cupping him through his pants, your knuckles brushing against your own sex at the same time.

He inhales sharply, closing his eyes, and you enjoy the brief power you have over him, massaging his erection. It doesn't last long, fingers wrapping around your wrist to pull you away.

He draws back as far as your legs let him, eyes locking with yours. "This will never happen, I meant that." He says, "But I can't stop wanting you."

It's like he's trying to torture you, and you've had enough. "Please just touch me." You're not one to beg. But for this, you would drop to your knees if he asked you to. "If you can't do anything else, just touch me."

He hesitates, finger pushing your panties to the side, the pad of his thumb gliding through your slick. It pulls a groan form him that you've never heard before, realizing that you're this wet for him. "Fuck, Y/n." He pants against your mouth, kissing long forgotten as he steals a glance down at the scene in front of him. "You're so good."

You don't know what he means by that, you don't know if he's talking about how you look, or how you feel, but either way you relish in his praise, nudging his face with yours to kiss him again.

He's greedy, slipping his tongue into your mouth, drawing slow circles with the pad of his thumb as you grind into his hand. It becomes too much, the pressure directly where you need it, and you try to back away for some air.

"No, don't run." His grip on your thigh is tight as he holds you in place. "This is what you wanted, isn't it? My hand up your skirt?" He kisses your cheek, pressing his thumb hard against your clit. You whine, body twitching at the intensity of his touch. "This is what you've been after all those late nights you pranced around teasing me?"

Teasing him how? You can't think, his words too much when they're accompanied with touch.

"Hair a mess, shirt undone, you don't realize what you look like?" He's slow in slipping his fingers inside of you, "You look good enough to fuck."

All the times he's reminded you why this can't happen fly right out of the window at the thought of him fucking you, at the thought of what his cock might look like, tip swollen red and leaking precum, stretching you out slowly.

"You want me to fuck you, don't you?"

You've never moved so quick, head nodding at a pace that rattles your brain a little. And he has the nerve to smirk, shaking his head at you. "I can't, baby." It makes you whine, and he's quick to shush you with a kiss. "There will be no stopping if I do, you know what's at stake."

But his actions contrast his words, cock growing in his pants right before your very eyes. His fingers pick up speed, his other hand at the small of your back to balance you, "Don't move." Is all he says, fingers moving at a rapid pace, the palm of his hand brushing your clit.

You clench around his fingers, feeling your pleasure start to build up, and it makes him shudder at the feeling. He can see it, your pussy throbbing in anticipation as he fucks you with his fingers, and he wants nothing more than to replace them with his cock. He groans, closing his eyes, not able to stand the sight of it.

But then you do something unexpected, eyes snapping open when you reach to undo his pants, freeing his erection. It springs up at attention, red and swollen, the sight of it alone makes you jolt, fingers eager to touch him.

He gasps at your touch, because you do something he's never felt before, your palm cupping his tip and smearing his precum as you slowly jerk him off, his hips matching your every movement.

When he cums, it's warm against the tops of your thighs, glistening as he continues to fuck his fingers into you. Your toes curl, and he realizes that you're struggling to orgasm. He decides to take mercy on you, pulling you against his chest, voice in your ear, "Is this what you need?" He asks, kissing your neck. "Can't come without my voice in your head?"

He's teasing you, throwing it right in your face that you can't get off without a little affection, but you don't care, panting and desperate, teetering on the edge of what you want.

"It's okay, I got you." He nudges his nose along your jaw, pulling back to steak a kiss from you. You hate the fact that it's helping. And then, "Cum."

And you do, hard, twitching under his hold. He kisses you through it, fingers slowing ever so slightly, until finally you're left slumped against him. He reaches for a dish towel, wiping you clean before helping you back down onto your feet. You feel exhausted, panting for breath, sweat coating your face, too tired to register the way he slips his fingers into his mouth.

"You did good work today," He says, leaning in to kiss you one last time, and you taste yourself on his lips. "Get some sleep."

He lets you go then, smile tired and lazy as he walks around the island. "Steve, my car."

He doesn't say anything in response to that, he only shrugs his shoulders, the atmosphere shifting once again. "We need to stay on our toes." He says. "And you need to meet with James at least once before the trial. He requested it. I'll take you."

It amazes you how quickly he recovered, just seconds ago he was cumming across your thighs and now he's stone faced as if he didn't just lick your cum off of his fingers.

"Okay. I'll meet with James tomorrow, you can meet with Brock." You nod at your own suggestion. "It will give me an excuse to keep Wanda away tomorrow."

He finishes his coffee and leaves, not saying another word, and a part of you feels oddly rejected by it. He comes here, gets you all worked up, chases a nut and then leaves. The worst part is that you can't deny how much you enjoyed it. The feeling of his lips against yours, the dirty words he whispered in your ear, his cock hard in your hand. It has you horny all over again, the shower head pressed to your sex as you shower, eyes closed tight as you imagine it being something else entirely.

You sleep well that night, the ghost feeling of his hands on your body, and it's the best sleep you've had in a while.

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

Steve is a piece of shit, and I love it.

Guilty masterlist.

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#steve rogers series #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers smut #lawyer steve rogers #lawyer au #lawyer series #natasha romanoff #steve rogers imagine #avengers smut #avengers fanfic

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pindaleng · 4 years

Link

Title: But I Knew You

Pairing: Avatrice

Chapters: 1/1

Wordcount: 2270

Summary: College AU. Beatrice is Ava’s favorite person. Ava loves being around her in a way she can’t explain. She wants to do everything with her, from studying to partying to walks outside. Which is completely normal for best friends.

Getting flustered by close contact and fake flirting is also definitely a super normal friendship thing.

Read on AO3 or below.

“I don’t get it.”

Beatrice sighed from her desk. “You don’t have to, it’s organic chemistry.”

“But I feel like I should. Like, this is the structure of living things right? I’m living, so I should understand how it works.”

“You use the internet, but you don’t know how that works.”

“Good point.” Ava shut the thick textbook in front of her. She didn’t really want to learn anyways. “You done yet?”

Beatrice sighed again, turning in her chair to face Ava, who was sitting on her bed. “We’ve only been working half an hour, and I specifically said I was spending the entire day studying. Which you should be doing too, since I know you said you have an exam Monday.”

“Fine Ms. Studious.” Ava made a big show of loudly unzipping her backpack and finally pulling out her laptop and notebooks. “I’ll…study,” she said, punctuating her last word with air quotes.

Beatrice narrowed her eyes, definitely looking skeptical, but turned back to her own pile of schoolwork.

Ava opened up her Google doc notes on her laptop, and simultaneously picked up her phone to check Twitter. Beatrice was right to doubt her; she practically never did any work on Saturdays. That’s what Sundays were for.

And yet, every Saturday, she showed up at Beatrice’s room under the guise of studying, just so she could hang out with her favorite person. Beatrice was one of the few people Ava felt comfortable in silence with, maybe due to all the death glares she’s received from Beatrice when she’s being too distracting.

Either way, she found comfort in it, even if they’re just sitting in the same room together, focused on their own activities. Beatrice studying, and Ava scrolling through social media on her phone, occasionally typing a paragraph or two for a paper due the following week.

They’re pretty much polar opposites, and Ava often wondered how they stuck as friends. Probably due to the weird crucible of living on the same freshman year dorm floor. People got to know everyone really quickly, for better or worse.

Luckily, it turned out for the better with everyone Ava met. A few of them with rooms in the north wing bonded fast, and they rented a house together for their sophomore year. She loved them all: Mary, Lilith, Camila, and Beatrice.

But especially Beatrice.

Beatrice was smart, kind, and witty, and honestly the best listener Ava’s ever met. Ava unabashedly talks a lot. Like, a lot. And being like that, people can lose interest as conversation and friendships progress.

But Beatrice still gave Ava her full attention after a year of Ava talking her ear off. Which was still impressive every time.

It’s cool.

It’s cool that she has a solid group of friends when there was no one back home to keep in touch with.

She really loved it here.

There were so many things to do and people to meet, sometimes she still got overwhelmed by it all.

And the best place to get the full experience? College parties.

It was the midst of midterm season, but honestly all the more necessary to have something to blow off stress. And to be real, midterm season lasted from the second month of school to the end of the semester. So, no better time than the present.

After Ava got kicked out of Beatrice’s room for being too distracting, she spent most of that evening helping the rest of her housemates set up their party. Mary was in charge of getting alcohol, having the most connection with older students. Lilith put Ava and Camila in charge of cleaning and setting up, which basically meant that Lilith didn’t trust Ava to actually do the work well. Ava would have been offended if she didn’t enjoy spending time with Camila so much. The girl was a ball of literal sunshine, yet also unexpectedly, full of dirty jokes.

So, setting up the apartment with Camila was a party in itself, full of fun banter and deep life discussions.

Ava just finished putting out the snacks and booze, when the first people arrived. She cracked open a bottle of Fireball, and downed a double shot.

Ava happily shook out her body as the the liquid warmed her up. It was going to be a good night.

———

Ava’s in the middle of laughing at some stranger’s story when she caught sight of a figure coming down the stairs. She grinned.

“Woo! Life of the party’s here!!!” She yelled across the room, startling the people around her, and drawing Beatrice’s attention towards her. If Ava was sober, maybe she would have cared more that Beatrice looked slightly (very) embarrassed, but Ava definitely wasn’t sober. She half skipped and half jogged across the room, undoubtedly spilling her drink on herself and several bystanders.

She hugged Beatrice tightly when she reached her. God it felt nice. Like sinking into a bed of clouds. Or something similarly soft and fluffy and comforting. “I missed you.”

Beatrice laughed softly, close to Ava’s ear. The best sound in the world. “You just saw me a couple of hours ago.”

Ava pulled away and pouted. “Still.”

Beatrice smiled, in a perfect way that made her entire face brighter. Holy hell she was beautiful. “Well, I finished up for the day and I’m here now. Any chance you can show me where the party is?” Her eyes sparkled with playfulness.

Ava looked at her in disbelief. “Wait seriously? You wanna join?”

“I can’t be a dud at a party in my own house, can I?”

Beatrice had definitely sat out on many parties they’ve hosted, but Ava ignored that. For now, she was going to enjoy this win. She led her to the kitchen, where various bottles of alcohol and sodas crowded their dining table. Beatrice shrugged when Ava asked what she wanted, so she just made a vodka cranberry. It was a crowd pleaser drink in her opinion. Plus, some rich kid brought Grey Goose, which was probably double or triple the price of everything else on the table.

Beatrice took a sip. “Not bad.”

“I may not know much,” Ava tapped her index finger a couple times to her temple, “but I do know my liquor.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, you also know how to get on my nerves.” Beatrice said teasingly, voice devoid of any malice.

Ava took a overdramatic bow. “Thank you, m’lady.” She refilled her own cup with a mixture of vodka and sprite. “Shall we?” Ava offered her hand to the other girl.

Beatrice rolled her eyes, but put her hand in Ava’s.

Ava led them back to the main room, navigating through groups of bodies to eventually land them at a couch, which was miraculously unclaimed.

From there, Ava launched into basically non-stop talking, wanting to entertain Beatrice in the best way she knew how. She shared stories of all the people she met during the night so far, with Beatrice supplementing the conversation with appropriate reactions and commentary. Ava recounted one guy that recklessly challenged her to shotgunning a beer against him. Spoiler alert, he lost miserably. Ava watched Beatrice’s eyes as much as she could while she was talking, entranced with their intenseness, openness, and expression. Did they always look like that?

The eye contact felt so personal, like it took away everyone else in the room, ignoring the raging party and loud music around them.

And the music was definitely loud, though the song choices were good. Mary knew how to set up a playlist. Ava got banned from music duty when she un-ironically added in Friday by Rebecca Black.

No regrets.

After exhausting all the tales from that night, she moved to discussing and speculating with Beatrice on the backstories of all the partygoers. People watching with Beatrice was always fun. As strait-laced as she appeared, Beatrice was also incredibly creative. Whatever wild stuff Ava theorized, Beatrice could match or do better.

At one point, a couple joined them on the couch, pushing Ava into Beatrice, pressing their sides together. The couch was much too small to comfortably fit 3 people, much less four.

“Shit, sorry.” Ava tried her best to back up and give Beatrice space, but there was nowhere to go.

Beatrice put a hand on her thigh and smiled. “Ava, it’s fine.”

Ava suddenly found it hard to breathe. Probably due to being surrounded by two more people.

“You okay?” Beatrice furrowed her eyebrows.

“Yeah, think I just need to get out here for a bit. Wanna take a walk?”

“Sure.”

There was a nice, cool breeze outside, a welcome relief from the humid air inside. It was also much quieter.

Beatrice suggested getting ice cream from Mcdonald’s and Ava emphatically agreed. Beatrice really knew her.

Fifteen minutes later she was contently humming to herself as they walked back to the house. This was the best party ever. She had an ice cream cone in one hand and somehow Beatrice’s hand in the other. A perfect night. Ava’s pretty sure this is the happiest she’s ever been in her entire life.

———

Ava groaned as she slid back into consciousness. She felt grimy, which was not unusual for her after a night of drinking.

She did a quick self inventory to assess the damage.

She was in her own bed, which was good. Boxers? On. Shirt? Also on, but in her sleep shirt instead of the button up she was wearing last night. Interesting. No bra. Also interesting.

She felt around to her right and left. No body in the bed with her. Good to know.

Minimal pounding in her head. She sat up, breathing a sigh of relief that she didn’t feel like throwing up.

She noticed a glass of water and a couple of Advils on her nightstand. Definitely Beatrice. No one else would be nice enough. Okay maybe Camila, but she still had bets on Beatrice.

She quickly washed down the pills with water and slipped on shorts and a pullover before making her way downstairs to the kitchen.

Mary was sitting at the table eating, and Beatrice at the stove pouring batter into a pan.

“Pancakes, oh my god. Bea you’re the best.” Ava gave Beatrice a tight hug and overdramatic sloppy kiss on the cheek.

Beatrice playfully pushed Ava away and made a show of wiping the kiss off her face. “Yeah yeah I know, now eat it while it’s still hot.”

Ava saluted. “Got it chef.”

“Dork.”

“You love it.”

“No comment.”

Ava’s in the middle of inhaling her fifth pancake when Mary said something. Beatrice left the room about a pancake ago, so it could only have been directed at Ava.

“What?” Ava momentarily stopped chewing.

Mary got up and started rinsing her dishes in the sink. “I said, you should really tell her how you feel.”

Ava knitted her eyebrows together. “About what?”

Mary stared at her for a while, long enough to make Ava to feel uncomfortable. Her mouth was still full, and Mary has perfected the gaze that made her feel like a kid in trouble.

“Never mind,” she said, as she put her dishes in the dishwasher.

“About what??” She repeated. Mary ignored her and walked out the kitchen. Ava swallowed the rest of the food in her mouth. “Asshole!” Ava yelled after her, eliciting a middle finger response.

Beatrice appeared in the doorway. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, just Mary being cryptic and messing with me.”

“Sounds about right.”

Beatrice sat down at the table. “How are you feeling?”

“Surprisingly… not bad. Seriously thank you for the food and Advils,” Ava remembered her state of dress when she woke up. “And…probably also for helping me out of my clothes.”

“Oh um, right, it was nothing. Didn’t want you sleeping in an uncomfortable, sweaty shirt.” Ava noticed Beatrice’s cheeks turn a little pink. Shit, she didn’t mean to embarrass her. She could fix this.

“Did you see something you like?” Ava wiggled her eyebrows, trying to lighten the mood, but it only made Beatrice blush harder. Oh my god Ava you’re so bad at this. She felt herself digging herself into a hole. Of course fake flirting with her is going to make it worse.

Ava was about to say something (probably dumb) to attempt again to save the situation, before Beatrice spoke.

“How could I not? You’re beautiful.”

For once, Ava was speechless. The incredibly reverent but casual way Beatrice said it completely took her breath away. There was something magical about how soft Beatrice’s eyes were, and how vulnerable it felt. Half of Ava felt calmed, while the other half of her was a raging mess. Ava felt the need to do something. She wasn’t sure what, but she needed to do something. She started racking her garbled brain for any ideas.

Beatrice’s smile slowly slid into a smirk, “Got you.”

The spell of the moment was broken. Ava laughed to dust off any lingering weird feelings. “Wow, got a taste of my own medicine. I’m impressed.”

“I had a good teacher. You should have seen your face.” Beatrice mimicked a “deer in the headlights” look for a brief moment before grinning again. She got up from the table. “Now hurry up and finish your food so we can get to the library. I’m not going to let you forget about studying for your midterm tomorrow.”

“Right. Yeah.”

“Cool.” Beatrice slapped Ava’s arm playfully before leaving the room.

Ava watched her go, wondering what in the living hell just happened. Fuck. Was she about to kiss her best friend?

#avatrice #sister beatrice #ava silva #warrior nun #college au #fic #fanfic #mine

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