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zepskies · 6 months ago

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A Line and a Half

Pairing: Russell Shaw x F. Reader

Summary: When Dory’s eldest brother comes to visit her at Wyoming University, you don’t know quite what to make of Russell Shaw. But he knows exactly what he wants to make of you.

AN: Okay, here’s my first toe-dip into the world of Tracker with Russell Shaw! 1x12 gave me too many ideas not to explore this intriguing character. This is set before episode 12, but I have a little series I want to sketch out that will continue after this one-shot, so think of this as a “Part 1,” if you will. 😉

Word Count: 3.2K

Tags/Warnings: A kind of “meet cute,” attempts at flirting, and hints of setup for more to come…

You watched, silently simmering, as Dr. Goldstein added yet another packet of internship applications from his graduate students onto your desk.

Applicants that he, as the History Department Chairman, was supposed to review himself. Instead, he’d been adding these hours quite literally onto your desk.

“If you could review these for me as well, sweetheart. Thank you,” he said. “Get ‘em back to me by Thursday, okay?”

As a Professor of History with two doctorates in your name, you once again grated internally at sweetheart, but you tried to keep that cringe off your face as well.

Goldstein barely even met your eyes when he dropped off his burden, and then aimed to leave your office.

“Uh, Paul,” you called out, raising a finger. You stood from your desk as quickly as you could in your pencil skirt, but the man was already out the door. You followed him out, your heels clacking on the tile floor.

Damn it. Knew I should’ve gone with pants, you said, continuing to hasten after your boss.

“Paul! Just a second,” you said. That finally managed to turn the man’s head off of his phone. He glanced at you while checking his watch.

“About the internship applications…and your midterm exam essays for that matter. Don’t you think—” you started to say, but the man spoke over you.

“I’m sorry, I’ve got to run. Meeting my massage therapist at noon,” he said, and rolled a seemingly stiff shoulder under his tailored blazer. “Something’s just not right here after my trip to Cali last weekend. I don’t know what I did, pulled muscle or something. But hey, they do say parasailing is a sport.”

You quirked a brow. “Do they?”

You weren’t sure that being strapped into a parachute for a nice air glide over the Pacific counted as a sport.

Goldstein shrugged at your question and he kept walking down the hall. Though he turned back to toss you a pointed finger.

“Need those by Thursday. Thanks, you’re the best,” he said.

You watched him go, as proverbial steam began to escape through your ears. Slowly you pivoted on your heels, and you went back to your office. You grimaced at the large stack of applications. You were pretty sure he padded them with an extra section of midterm exams.

Tapping your nails on your desk, you grabbed your phone next to your desktop and checked the time. 11:30 a.m.

Screw it. I’m going to lunch, you thought.

Dory had to be out of her Intro Physics class by now, which meant she’d be in her office, ready for you to drop in on her a little early. You took up your purse and almost made it out the door…but at the last moment, your anal brain made you turn back to grab a shoulder bag and the pile of applications. Maybe you could knock out a few during lunch.

Friggin’ doormat, as your brother would say. Laughing at you, probably.

You rolled your eyes and headed back out the door with your haul of papers, purse, work bag, and keys, locking your office behind you.

Why, oh why did the Sciences building have to be on the other side of campus?

It was damn near a mile walk from your Humanities building over to Dory’s office on the second floor. Your hands were laden with packets that couldn’t be contained by your heavy work bag, your purse was slipping off your shoulder, and these heels were killing your feet.

It was a miracle you and Dory had ever met on this campus. On your first day of teaching, you’d of course been hopelessly lost. Somehow you ended up at the tail-end of one of her classes in one of the science auditoriums.

She’d been gracious enough to help you, and even walked you all the way to the Humanities building so you could find your World History class before the students decided to just get up and leave. (And after fifteen minutes, they very well would.)

That day, she became your first real friend at Wyoming University. In the three years since, she’d become your best friend.

And now, her door was mercifully open halfway. You pushed it open and stumbled just a little from the transition of tile to carpet inside her office. Your papers nearly flew from your hands, so you struggled to right yourself and contain them all back into the semblance of neatness.

“Hey, girl. You better be ready for lunch because Jesus fucking Christ. Goldstein’s up my ass again and all I’ve had today is a crusty donut from the teacher’s lounge, which I’m pretty sure was stale,” you said, with your brows furrowed in frustration.

When you finally looked up from your struggles, you realized that Dory wasn’t alone. She smiled at you in amusement, sitting at her desk beside a man who made you pause. Your eyes widened.

He was leaning casually with an elbow propped up on her desk, dressed in jeans and a worn, pale green jacket—a good match for his eyes. He looked a little rugged for Dory’s tastes, but you couldn’t fault her, with the cut of that bearded jaw, and the smile raising the corners of his lips.

“Hey,” Dory laughed. “I see you’re having a good day.”

You bit your lip in embarrassment, probably smudging your lipstick.

“I’m so sorry. I should’ve knocked first,” you said, though you could see she seemed to be having an actual good day. Office picnic? Or maybe the handsome stranger was getting ready to take her out.

Dory just waved you in. She stood and set a hand on her companion’s shoulder, and he got up along with her.

“It’s okay. This is my brother, Russell,” she said, and she introduced you in kind.

“Well, hi there,” he said. He subtly took you in with his eyes as he held out his hand. Already you felt your face heating up with more than just embarrassment.

You were a bit shocked as well, to say the least. Dory had told you some…interesting things about her family, including the fact that she had two older brothers. You wondered which one this was, the middle child, or the eldest.

“Hi! Sorry. Again. Nice to meet you,” you said. You tried to hold your hand out to reach his, but a few papers began to spill out. You clutched at them on reflex, but Russell drew in quickly to help you.

“Got yourself a load there,” he said. You agreed with an awkward laugh and a shrug of your shoulders.

“My boss’s idea of extra credit,” you said wryly.

“You can set it down on that chair over there,” Dory said, pointing to one against the back wall, next to a tall filing cabinet.

You and Russell meandered over and managed to set down the stack without casualty. You were able to pull up the straps of your bag and your purse from falling off your shoulder and give him a grateful look.

“Thanks,” you said.

“No problem,” he said, giving you an easy smile back. “I actually crashed in unannounced, so if you two wanna to head to lunch, you go right ahead.”

“Uh, no. I haven’t seen you in months! You should come with us,” Dory said. She grabbed her purse to join you and Russell by the door.

You raised your hands in placation. “Oh, I wouldn’t want to intrude, especially if it’s been a while since you’ve seen each other. You guys should catch up.”

Dory shook her head and grabbed your hand.

“Uh, uh. I want to hear the latest on Paul’s bullshit, and why you’re carrying half your office across campus. Let’s go,” she said, and gestured at your work bag. “Leave that here. You’re gonna eat and talk to me. No working involved.”

You laughed, but you agreed to her cajoling. With another glance at her brother, and those green eyes that seemed to be dancing, you joined them for lunch.

The three of you ended up at a diner that you and Dory frequented at least once a week. The food was good, the service was quick, and it was close to campus. Wins all around. Russell seemed to be enjoying himself, as he hummed in delight after the very first bite of his Philly cheesesteak.

“Sriracha on fries, huh?” you remarked, gesturing at the man’s plate. Your brow was quirked, but he shot you a smile.

“I said avert your eyes,” he teased. “Don’t knock it ‘til you try it, sweetheart.”

Ugh. Another sweethearting man. You narrowed your own eyes at him a bit. He caught the look and raised a hand in defense (the one that wasn’t holding his cheesesteak).

“Uh oh. What’d I do?” he asked.

“You gave her some PTSD,” Dory said with a laugh. “Dr. Goldstein likes to sugar coat his demands with sexism.”

Russell noted your souring look with apology. You’d just finished recounting your morning for your friend, and recapping years of “sugar-coated demands” for Russell.

“Why don’t you just tell him to cram it up his…uh…” he paused. Seeing his little sister’s look of amusement, he amended. “Or you know, stuff it.”

A smile twitched at your lips. “Oh, believe me, I’d love to tell him to stuff it. But he’s technically my boss, and the department chair. Even though I’ve basically been doing his job for two years now.”

“Well, that sucks,” Russell said. “And I feel for ya. I’ve had my share of shitty bosses in my time.”

You sighed and accepted his commiseration with a nod.

It wasn’t fair, but Goldstein planned to retire early in a few years. Must be nice.

When he did, it would make you the most likely candidate to replace him as department chair. The way you saw it, this was giving you plenty of practice before you (hopefully) inherited the position.

Anyway, you shook your head. You didn’t want to talk about it anymore. You were more curious about one Russell Shaw. You now knew he was an army vet, and he carried himself like one. Calm, controlled, even though his smiles came easy. His tousled hair and beard, while well-trimmed and neat, still gave him a roguish quality.

“So let me guess. You’re…the eldest?” you asked. You blotted at your mouth with a napkin, having finished your chicken panini.

Russell treated you to another one of those smiles, though this one held a hint of more.

“Guilty. Though I’m the handsome one,” he said with a wink.

You found yourself smiling behind your napkin.

“I’m sure,” you replied.

Dory rolled her eyes. “Don’t mind him. Apparently my brother’s an incorrigible flirt.”

He chuckled and sipped at his beer, but then he grimaced.

“Ech. Friggin’ weak,” he said. “I brew better than this outta the trunk of my car.”

You raised a brow at that. “You make your own beer?”

“Damn straight,” he said. His gaze turned a hint more playful. “Next time I’ll bring you some. You can tell me what you think.”

You shared a telling look with Dory.

“Next time, huh?” you asked.

“Sure,” he inclined his head. “I pop into town from time to time. Gotta check in and pester my little sister, the physics professor.”

He laid a hand on Dory’s shoulder, squeezing warmly. You could see the pride in his eyes, and it warmed you as well.

She turned to him with a smile, reaching up to cover his hand with hers.

“You don’t pester me. I’d love it if I got to see you more often,” she said.

“Ah, I know, I’m sorry,” he said, releasing her. “My job’s got me all over the place. But I’ll be here for a week or so on this gig.”

That intrigued you. “What do you do for work?”

“Ah, well, you could say I'm a contractor. Private security mainly,” said Russell. His shoulders shifted as he became a little more guarded, you noticed. “My company connects me with the client for as long as the job lasts. Could be a few months, sometimes a few days, depending.”

“Oh, wow. Do you live here in Wyoming?” you asked. He paused, but tilted his head a little, back and forth as he considered your question.

“I kinda bounce around,” he said. “Just go from one job to the next. Sounds a bit unorthodox, I know, but it’s a living.”

“Interesting,” you nodded, but inside, you thought that sounded like a hard way to live.

Unstable…and lonely.

“You know, it’s amazing how much you and Colter have in common,” Dory said. She folded her hands on the table and met her brother with a pointed look.

He huffed in response, though he glanced at you, then back at his sister. As if he was saying, You really want to do this now?

Dory had told you before that Colter was a “rewardist,” or some kind of bounty hunter. The nature of his work kept him busy, and seemingly too busy for his sister. But you also sensed there was an edgier history here.

For the first time, you felt like you were intruding in a moment between brother and sister that went beyond words.

After a moment, Russell shook his head.

“Look, I tried with him, all right? He won’t talk to me,” he said. He went back to eating, polishing off his fries. He offered you one that was half-smothered in sriracha.

“Come on. Live on the edge with me,” he teased.

You eyed the sauce-covered fry in distaste, but after glancing up at his more playful smile, you accepted his offer. You chewed in contemplation, and found that the tangy hint of kick wasn’t so bad.

“Eh? Eeeh? Delicious, am I right?” he said, his hands going wide.

You rolled your eyes, but you nodded in agreement.

“It’s all right,” you replied.

“Yes!” Russell’s hands swept up higher, like he was celebrating a touchdown. "See, I told ya."

You couldn’t help but laugh. Dory shook her head fondly and gave him a clean napkin for the bit of schmutz she spotted at the corner of his mouth.

“Here, wipe your sriracha face.”

“You really don’t have to,” you said, as Russell helped you gather your stack of papers and slung your work bag over his shoulder.

“No, no. I’m a bonafide gentleman. Ain’t that right, D?” he asked his sister. She barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes again, but she did give you a knowing smile.

“Oh, his intentions are pure,” she said.

And by that, you both understood her meaning. His intentions couldn’t be any clearer than a mallet over the head, but you kind of found it endearing.

This man really carried your stuff from the Sciences building across the entire campus to your office. All the while, he asked you about how you and Dory met, the kinds of things you two did together, and if you thought she was happy working here.

You had a feeling he was trying to learn more about his sister’s life. On one hand, it was rather sweet. On the other, it made you realize that there was distance in this family, both literal and figurative. You were glad to hear that Russell, at least, was trying to bridge that gap with his sister. Dory deserved to have more of that in her life.

As you explained to Russell while you led him down the hall to your office, your friendship with her had just…clicked. From the very beginning.

“Dory, you know. She’s more than kind,” you said. “She’s a real one. I can rely on her, even when I can’t rely on my own family.”

Russell hummed at that. “That sounds like a story.”

“Yeah,” you said, glancing away for a moment. You smiled and met his gaze once more. “Maybe one for another time.”

“So you’re on board with a ‘next time.’ Good to know,” Russell remarked. Your smile deepened.

It was good timing when you two finally reached your office. You unlocked it and let him inside, so he could set down your bag, and the god-forsaken stack of internship applications back onto your desk. You’d probably be stuck here working late on those.

“Well, thank you so much. You really didn’t have to schlep for me,” you said.

When you turned, Russell was a bit close. Not uncomfortably so, but enough to make a trill of something zip up your spine. You smelled more intensely his cologne, woodsy and warm. Looking up at him, you once again found his smile.

“It’s no problem,” he said, but his eyes met yours for a moment, as if he lost his train of thought.

“What?” you asked, a bit nervous.

“Anybody ever tell you, you got soulful eyes?” he asked.

It took your brain a second or two to compute, but when his words registered, you had to laugh. You held it behind your hand, while the other went to steady yourself on your desk.

“Well, that’s a line if I’ve ever heard one,” you said, shading your “soulful” eyes with a hand.

You didn’t know it, but Russell’s face warmed in slight embarrassment. He recovered though, taking in your pretty laugh, and the shade of your hair, let loose around your shoulders, and yes, your eyes, when you let him see them again.

If he hadn’t known before, now he was convinced.

He wanted to see more of you before he left town.

“Hey, now that was 100% genuine,” Russell said, but his grin spoke volumes. When your mirth died down, he scratched the back of his head.

“Okay, cards on the table. Would you be interested in grabbing a drink with me sometime?” he asked.

You took in a breath at that. You actually did consider his offer, because homebrew and sriracha fries be damned, there was something more to him. It was lying in wait, behind those eyes that were drawing you in.

However, this was also a man whose job basically made him a nomad. It didn’t exactly scream relationship material.

Which only left the alternative: something…casual.

You just didn’t know if that alternative was such a good idea. Not with your best friend’s brother.

“Just a drink. No frills, no more grilling you about my sister,” Russell said, breaking you from your deliberation. He gestured a hand between the two of you. “Just this. You and me.”

Eventually, you sighed. Your lips raised into a more genuine smile.

“Sometime, huh?” you asked.

He smiled back. “Tonight?”

You hesitated, but despite your better judgment, you nodded before you could change your mind. You still weren’t sure what to make of this guy, but you were willing to find out.

“Sure,” you said. “Howley’s at eight?”

“Well, all right,” Russell said.

He surprised you by sweeping up your hand into his. You looked up at him, curious, but not wary. Anticipation tingled down your spine.

He pressed his lips to the back of your hand. Soft shock made your eyes widen as you blushed, feeling the subtle graze of his beard against your skin.

Who is this guy, Cary Grant? you thought.

But when he pulled away, you had to remind yourself to breathe. Again, you caught sight of his cheeky grin.

“See you tonight,” he said.

AN: He is beauty he is grace, he is Mr. Sriracha Face. 😆

Let me know if you guys liked this! 💜 It's my first time writing a character based solely on one episode, but next up is a series that will continue this one-shot. It's called Every Second Counts.

Next Time in Part 1:

“Are you absolutely sure?” you asked, with your hands on your hips.

You wanted no miscommunication here, no read-between-the-lines mishaps, no subtext or nuance to bite you in the ass later. So here you stood in the middle of your best friend’s office, still on the Wyoming University campus after your last class.

Dory had to laugh at you. She pushed away from her desk and threw her hands up.

“Yes, for the love of God, you can grab a drink with my brother,” she said.

▶️ Keep Reading: Part 1

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Russell Shaw Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Russell S. Tag List:

@kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007

@wincastifer @ades106 @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @roseblue373

@brianochka @branj19 @hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog @globetrotter28 @charmed-asylum

@waywardxwords @deanwinchestersgirl87 @this-is-me19 @rachiem4-blog @sweettimelady

@leigh70 @clinicallydepresso @xiphoidbones @skoveu @nyotamalfoy

@kmc1989 @jackles010378 @emily-winchester @waynes-multiverse @jessjad

@my-stories-vault @deans-spinster-witch @syrma-sensei @stellasfictionalworld @ultimatecin73

@jesllianaquilesrolonsworld @pieandmonsters @lhymer1995 @taehyungxjungkookistaekook @lovelystoriesaj

@nicksalchemy1 @spnwoman @onlyangel-444 @sexyvixen7 @illicithallways

@wolkenprinzessin007 @alwaystiredandconfused @carpenterswife @cheynovak @grilledcheeseandtomato

#A Line and a Half #russell shaw #tracker #russell shaw x reader #russell shaw x female reader #russell shaw x you #russell shaw fanfiction #russell shaw fanfic #dory shaw #colter shaw #jensen ackles #jensen ackles characters #tracker fanfiction #tracker cbs #russell shaw series #tracker series #zepskies writes

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bestofmultiverse · 8 days ago

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Between the pages || 4

Aubrey plaza x fem!reader

"It’s hard to save people from themselves. But if they’re willing to try, it’s worth the risk.”

- Paperweight by Meg Haston

A/N : this part talks about mental health, i don't know if its on triggering level but it was important for me to let yall know.

Got inspired by my trip to the ER today because of anxiety attack that left me feeling like i was literally dying. Im okay, conveniently had a therapy session as well afterwards so had a pretty rough day- but pushing trough it 🤍

I love you guys hope you will like this one x

1 • 2 • 3 • 5

When Aubrey stormed into the ER, she wasn’t sure what she was more furious about: the fact that her girlfriend hadn’t told her she was there or the casually infuriating way she explained it when she finally did.

“I didn’t want to bother you,” her girlfriend had said with a weak shrug, as if chest pain and difficulty breathing were minor inconveniences she could brush off.

“Didn’t want to bother me?” Aubrey had echoed, disbelief flaring in her voice.

The younger woman, seated in one of those awful plastic chairs, simply nodded, her eyes heavy with exhaustion. “It’s not the first time,” she added lightly.

That had nearly sent Aubrey over the edge, but then her anger had crumbled the moment she took in her girlfriend’s slumped posture, the way her hands trembled slightly in her lap. The fight in her drained away, replaced by a deep, aching worry.

Without a word, Aubrey knelt in front of her and wrapped her arms around her tightly. Her girlfriend stiffened for a moment before her shoulders sagged, and tears, born of frustration and weariness, spilled from her tired brown eyes.

“You scared the hell out of me,” Aubrey murmured against her temple, her voice breaking.

“I’m sorry,” came the hoarse reply.

“What did the doctor say?” Aubrey asked after a beat.

“Nothing yet. It’s been two hours since they checked me, so I guess that’s a good sign,” her girlfriend said, trying for humor, but the weak smile didn’t reach her eyes.

Aubrey frowned and brushed a stray strand of hair from her girlfriend’s face. “What made you come in today?”

Her girlfriend hesitated, looking down at her hands. “A coworker noticed I was struggling and told my supervisor. They basically forced me to come.”

Aubrey’s heart clenched at the thought of her being too stubborn—or scared—to seek help on her own. “I’m sorry that happened, baby.”

“It’s not your fault,” her girlfriend said softly, shaking her head.

Aubrey pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Still. I wish you’d told me sooner.”

“I didn’t want to worry you,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Aubrey sighed, her thumb tracing comforting circles over her girlfriend’s hand. “I’m going to talk to the nurse and see what’s going on.”

Her girlfriend grabbed her wrist, her grip surprisingly firm. “Please don’t make a scene. They’re doing their best.”

“I won’t, I promise,” Aubrey said with a small smile. “But I’m not just going to sit here while you suffer.”

She stood and approached the front desk, her patience already worn thin. “Excuse me,” she said, keeping her tone calm but firm. “My girlfriend’s been waiting for two hours with chest pain and trouble breathing. Is there any way to get an update?”

The nurse didn’t even glance up. “It takes time,” she said dismissively.

“I understand that,” Aubrey replied, clenching her jaw. “But is there any way to know how much time?”

Before the nurse could respond, a doctor appeared in the doorway, clipboard in hand. “Y/N?” she called out.

Relief washed over Aubrey as she hurried back to her girlfriend. “Come on,” she said gently, helping her to her feet.

They followed the doctor into an exam room, and Aubrey stayed close, her hand never leaving her girlfriend’s.

“After running several tests, we didn’t find anything concerning,” the doctor began, offering a reassuring smile. “Your heart and lungs are healthy, and your bloodwork came back normal.”

Aubrey’s girlfriend nodded slowly, her expression conflicted.

“So what’s causing this?” Aubrey asked, her tone carefully measured.

The doctor hesitated before answering. “It seems to be psychological—likely a panic attack.”

Aubrey’s girlfriend let out a bitter laugh. “Figures.”

“It’s more common than you think,” the doctor said gently. “There’s nothing physically wrong with you, which is good news. But I’d recommend following up with a therapist to explore potential triggers and coping strategies.”

“Right,” her girlfriend muttered as she stood, grabbing her bag. “So, I’m crazy. Got it.”

“You’re not crazy,” Aubrey said firmly, standing as well and pulling her into a hug. She held her close, one hand cradling the back of her head as her girlfriend let out a shaky breath against her shoulder.

“Thank you, doctor,” Aubrey said softly before leading her girlfriend out of the hospital.

The drive home was quiet, the radio turned off at her girlfriend’s request. When they reached Aubrey’s apartment—a place that had gradually become their shared home—they settled on the couch, the silence stretching between them.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Aubrey asked after a while. “No pressure, but… I’m here.”

Her girlfriend pulled her knees to her chest, resting her chin on them. “It’s just… stuff. Work’s been rough, and… other things too.”

“Other things?” Aubrey prompted gently.

Her girlfriend hesitated. “It started about five months ago.”

Aubrey froze. Five months ago—the same time the media had started dissecting their relationship, plastering their faces across magazines and social media.

Her girlfriend must have noticed the look on her face because she quickly added, “This isn’t your fault, Aubrey. Please don’t think that.”

Aubrey shook her head. “I should’ve protected you from all of that.”

“You couldn’t have. I chose this. I chose you,” her girlfriend said, her voice trembling. “And I’d choose you again. Every time.”

Aubrey pulled her into her arms, kissing her temple. “I’d choose you too. Always.” She paused, stroking her girlfriend’s hair. “But I think we need help—someone who can help us make sense of this.”

Her girlfriend looked up at her, confused.

“I’m talking about therapy,” Aubrey said gently. “For you, if you want it. And maybe for us. Together.”

Her girlfriend frowned. “You think we need couples therapy?”

“I think it’s worth trying,” Aubrey said honestly. “You were scared to tell me what you’ve been going through, and I can’t stop blaming myself for what you’ve been feeling. I don’t want either of us to carry that alone.”

Her girlfriend sighed, her shoulders slumping. “I’ll think about it,” she said quietly.

“That’s all I’m asking,” Aubrey said, kissing her hand.

After a moment, her girlfriend stood. “I need a bath. I feel gross.”

“Want company?” Aubrey offered with a small smile.

Her girlfriend nodded. “Yeah. I don’t want to be alone.”

Aubrey followed her into the bathroom, and they sank into the warm, bubble-filled tub together, with a book of y/n's choice as their worries temporarily melting away in the comfort of each other’s arms.

#anxitey #panic attack #fic writing #aubrey plaza x reader #aubrey plaza #rio vidal x reader #rio vidal #agathario #agatha x rio #agatha all along #agatha harkness x rio vidal #wlw

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enwoso · 3 months ago

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Hey , your latest jump scare fic is so funny. It made my day. I couldn't stop laughing. Hope you write more of platonic Kyra and reader being a pest to everyone in the arsenal team but also the arsenal women team couldn't live without their two pests

INCOMPLETE — arsenal wfc

masterlist

"I'M BACK BITCHES!!" you cheered as you walked through the changing room doors, big smiles had been plastered around the room at your entrance. the girls may not like to admit it out loud very often but they had missed you.

"language y/n"

you hadn't been in training last week, you'd been on house arrest, okay not really but you had been studying for an exam you had. but it basically felt like house arrest to you anyway. sitting still and having to be serious was not your strongest suit.

but you were back!

you did your rounds as each girl greeted you most engulfing you in a tight hug, "yep, meado i do actually need to breathe!" you stutter out as it felt as though the girl was about to squeeze your lungs out your chest.

"sorry kiddo, it's just been so quiet without you!”

"and boring by the sounds of it" you said smugly as you had been filled in with what you had missed out on in the week you'd not been there.

kyra had been telling you at the end of each day what had happened and by the sounds of it, it had been a pretty plain week. boring like a white dull wall and no fun at all. it boosting you ego probably more than it should that you were the source of fun around the training ground.

as you made your round and finally to leah, who looked at you with a blank smile. giving you a small hug as you looked at her, not being able to take her seriously as you giggled a little. the blonde being slightly confused as the signature frown appeared.

"don't pretend like you haven't missed me- even kim had a brighter smile than that!" you pointed to the blondes face as leah began to lace her boots up. you were just seeing how far you could wind the blonde up.

leah always had been your target to wind up as out of everyone she was the one who you could tick of easiest.

"it was like i was in heaven" leah joked as you rolled your eyes already having your retaliation ready.

"oh give it up lord farquaad, i heard about you saying you felt incomplete without me!" you smiled smugly as the blonde glared at you shaking her head at the nickname.

a one you and kyra had came up with after the blondes recent haircut, but unluckily for leah it had rubbed off on the team as some of the girls had resulted in calling her that too.

“no, no! no. it’s been twisted! i said that the team was incomplete cause you weren’t with us during the win at the weekend” leah reworded what you said, the blondes mind replaying the moment from the previous weekend in her head.

“what a good week!” beth smiled, as she swung her arm around leah’s shoulders the pair doing their lap of honour together. leah hadn’t been in the field too long still having limited minutes as she was still in light rehab for her knee.

“yep, no pranks, no cheekiness, no having to look over my shoulder every time i go somewhere, just peace.” leah sighed peacefully as a laugh came from beth. the pair walking in front of kyra and alessia who were busy giggling on at something.

“oh i know you’ve missed y/n more than anyone in the team” beth nudged the blonde as leah rolled her eyes playfully.

“it’s been like a mini holiday, although the team does feel incomplete without her here this week” leah admitted, while you were a right pain in her ass at times it did help to bring some excitement into the blondes life. it would be a little boring if every training session was the same.

“yeah blondie that’s literally what i said-“ you sighed, rolling your eyes at the blonde flat energy as you moved to get your own boots on, a few giggles being spread around the changing room from the team at the interaction.

it was now the time of the day where players would get treatment if they needed/wanted it while others would have meetings or media etc to do.

you were just wondering around, having finished your meetings for the day. but you did have one thing you wanted to complete today and that was prank leah.

you were flying alone on this prank, kyra being stuck in media appearances and meetings all afternoon. so it meant you didn’t have an accomplish, it was just you.

you passed the medical room, glancing in to see who was in there. laura was getting another dressing put on her knee, beth was in there, so was alessia who was getting some sort of massage, and so was leah who just so happened to be having a nap as she had her knee in some heat rehab thing.

bingo! the perfect opportunity.

you wondered in so innocent looking around to see if you could find anything, well the item you were looking for. and there it was in the bench at the side. a black sharpie.

“what are you up to trouble-“ beth began with a smirk knowing you were up to something as you quickly shushed her pointing to leah with a grin.

you carefully went over, taking the lid of the top of the pen as you hand inched closer to the blondes face. you carefully constructing a moustache drawing on leah’s upper lip. being so careful with the amount of pressure that you didn’t wake her, as her shallow breath blew onto your hand.

smiling and admiring your work as you took a step back so that beth and laura could see both gasping quietly at what you’d done but both laughing about it.

“kid she’s gonna murder you-“ beth tells you as you wave her empty threat away.

“she’ll have to catch me first!” you winked swinging out the room waving goodbye.

it had been a while since your prank on leah and you still hadn’t heard her, so you thought that maybe nobody had told her or maybe she was infact plotting your murder somewhere and she was waiting to pounce on you - now that you wouldn’t put past the blonde.

you were sat in the canteen with steph, kim and katie the three talking amongst themselves while you finished off some last minute essays on your laptop, not listening to a single word they were saying. your music drowning out their voices completely.

“Y/N!” leah screamed angrily, the threes eyes looking straight at you. your eyes widened. you heard that voice through your music, loud and clear.

“what have you done-“ kim asked but was cut off by a very angry leah williamson walking into the room, and oh boy it looks could kill let’s just say you wouldn’t be walking freely.

you thought a lecture was coming from kim as she looked between you and leah but instead just burst into laughter steph and katie joining in. leah’s frown only getting deeper — if that was even possible. the drawn on moustache making it look even more funnier.

“oh kid that is brilliant” katie laughed out loud as leah got closer you scooting further away in slight fear of what she may do.

“so brilliant that it won’t come off-“ leah scowled as you giggled hiding slightly behind you laptop.

“oh but be for real, your life would be so boring if y/n wasn’t here!” steph smiled as leah just looked on unimpressed. you were just surprised you were one still sat there in close proximity to leah and she hadn’t try to lunge at you and two that you weren’t being lectured by kim,, yet.

“like we know y/n is a menace at the best of times-“ kim began as she made a pointed look towards you, forever telling you when may need to turn your silliness down and start being a little more serious during training.

“i’m sat right here you know!” you commented as they were talking as if you weren’t in the room, let alone say across the table.

“unfortunately..” leah mumbled as you glared at her, poking your tongue at her as she looked up towards you.

“-but she keeps us on our toes and we wouldn’t trade her for anyone else” kim continued as you poured slightly at the kind words the scot was saying.

“leah may have to trade her for a scrubbing brush though..” katie trailed off as you burst into laughter at that comment, leah’s scowl coming back as she glared at the irish who for once wasn’t in the same position the blonde was currently in. the two being your usual victims of your pranks.

“kim that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me… can i have that in writing..” you asked genuinely being serious for once as kim send a scoff your way.

“don’t push it!”

“i’ll take that as a no then..” you mumbled sinking back into your seat to carry on your assignments. the girl’s beginning to find out the best ways to get sharpie off of skin, you sitting there being no help at all.

#woso community #woso x reader #woso #woso imagine #woso blurbs #awfc #arsenal women #arsenal #arsenal wfc #awfc x reader #awfc imagine #leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #beth mead #kim little #steph catley #kyra cooney cross #katie mccabe #enwoso

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redeemingvillains · 26 days ago

Text

how mattheo would love you in every love language ♡

G I F T S

Mattheo wasn't proud of where his family money came from; in fact, most people didn't even know he was wealthy as he walked around in frayed robes and old hoodies.

But he l o v e d being able to spoil you.

It wasn't just about how expensive the gifts were...

...I mean some of it was (looking at you, diamond earrings for Christmas, the 16k gold 'M' around your neck, your new Louis Vuitton and the trip to Italy you took over fall break).

But the gifts that meant the most to you had nothing to do with what they cost: his favorite band t-shirt, worn and washed so many times it was heavenly soft, or the playlist he randomly texted you one day with every song that made him think of you.

Better yet were the smallest things that let you know you had been on his mind, like when he grabbed you extra dessert at dinner and brought it to you in the library while you were studying, or the flowers that showed up the morning of your big exam.

This boy lived to shower you every way he knew how.

W O R D S of affirmation

Mattheo is so cheeky and such a goofball, honestly.

He's quick with a joke, and his signature smirk, but he chooses his words very carefully around you and doesn't throw around empty compliments.

So, when he did speak up, you knew it was important.

You craaaveeed his praise and feedback, so when he picked you up for your first date and he didn't immediately say anything about your outfit, you were lowkey devastated.

But when you were walking hand in hand back to the castle after a perfect evening in Hogsmeade and he pulled you into his side and whispered "you are unbelievably gorgeous, I can't keep my eyes off of you" it was so much more sincere and meaningful.

(After that, you were his hook, line + sinker).

Not everything he'd say was about your looks. He would brag about you and gas you up to his friends, complimenting your intelligence, your kindness, your hard work.

"You know YN could have been a model? Yeah, they asked her and she said she wanted to focus on her studies, fucking brains and beauty that one."

And trust this carried over into the bedroom, the one place he went absolutely overboard, whispering every single thing you wanted to hear, knowing how crazy it drove you.

Quality T I M E

Something that was different with Mattheo right from the start is that you were always a priority to him.

Boys asked to hang out when you two already had plans? Too bad.

In big ways and little ways it was like he created moments to spend time together.

He'd go out of his way to walk you to every class, even though it made him late for all of his.

"And miss the chance to show off my girl to the whole school? Pass."

The way he'd lay on your bed as you did your nighttime skincare routine, or join you in the library to study.

(Well, you studied potions and he studied you).

He had a permanent seat next to you at every meal.

He'd only had to shove Pansy, then Draco, then Theo aside so many times before they got the hint, all shifting automatically when he came to join you now.

He would look for literally any excuse to be near you, to be in your orbit.

Acts of S E R V I C E

The way this boy would do literally anything for you. A n y t h i n g.

On anyone else, it would look foolish the way he ran after you like a schoolboy, but he cherished you like his queen.

Putting his jacket over puddles so you didn't have to step on them.

Rushing ahead of you to open every door.

Kneeling down to tie your shoe.

One fifth year once had the audacity to say something about it.

The next day he had a black eye.

Date nights? Organized, sorted, planned.

You basically never had to lift a finger again, you wanted for nothing.

He'd carry your books, really carry anything for you (your bag, your jacket, your wand, your water bottle).

And when he couldn't be there to walk you to class or carry your books, trust there were two Slytherin first years waiting for you to do it for him.

You were Riddle's Princess after all, and everyone knew it

Physical T O U C H

His hands. On you. All. The. Time.

Rubbing your thigh, his fingers tangling in yours or twirling your hair. A hand at your back in the hallways or grasping you firmly to him in larger crowds.

King of Casual Dominance™️

Why would you sit in a chair when his lap is open and waiting for you?

His head on your lap whenever possible so you could run your fingers through his chestnut curls.

And, conversely, not knowing what the fuck to do with his hands when you weren't around; his leg would bounce anxiously, his hands would fidget, messing with his tie, tapping on his desk, fiddling and twitching to feel your soft skin.

Oh and the way this boy kissed you...

In the morning. In the evening. On the stairs. In bed. Before Quidditch practice. In the middle of breakfast. During class. He did not give a single fuck who was around or what the circumstances were.

You're literally standing outside of transfiguration, two feet in front of McGonagall and his lips are warm and running over yours like he's going off to war. "That's enough Mr. Riddle!" her shrill voice would ring out.

(He'd ignore her).

And you'd slip past her a full minute later with rosy cheeks, trying to right your lipgloss, a shy smile on your face as you avoided eye contact with her.

taglist: @kenjikishimotoswifey, @mattiesgf, @sleepiibunniiii, @darlingshecried, @girllblogging777, @foivetimesacharm, @clar2aa, @broadwaybaby123, @slytherinscreamqueen

#mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle fluff

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azzibuckets · 4 months ago

Text

anything you want [pazzi]

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

summary: fluffy blurb based off this moment last year when paige dressed azzi in her entire outfit at the sza concert then lent her her jacket

a/n: dedicated to @clairosrealwife for messaging me on 4 different places asking for a new fic like the overbearing annoying ass she is

word count: 1.1k

masterlist

“Yikes.”

Paige, Jana, and Aaliyah peered through the doorway of Azzi’s room, all exchanging glances at the sight before them. Azzi was slumped on the floor, face down in a pile of clothes while shirts and sweaters were strewn all over her bed, furniture, and closet.

They’d been eating snacks in the kitchen before muffed groans had pierced the peaceful silence of the dorm. Azzi had been in a mood all day, and no one on the team dared to bother her when she was pissed off. But it was becoming hard to enjoy their Lays when Azzi was huffing and storming around in the other room, so they made a mutual agreement to approach the girl together by having strength in numbers.

“Azzarae,” Aaliyah said gently, always having a soft spot for her younger roommate. “What’s wrong?”

“I can’t find anything cute to wear for the concert,” Azzi groaned. “This is literally the worst day of my life. I failed my exam in accounting this morning and then I got a smoothie to console myself but then I fucking spilled the entire thing-,”

Paige glared at her teammates as they slowly started to creep away from the door. “Your girlfriend, your problem,” Aaliyah mouthed before she and Jana took off, giggling as they returned back to their snacks.

Fatties, Paige thought bitterly to herself before entering the room and shutting the door. “You know the entire team is scared of you whenever you’re mad?”

A small smirk slid its way onto Azzi’s face. “I know. They leave me alone for once. I get peace and quiet.”

Paige rolled her eyes fondly. She grabbed Azzi’s hand and folded it between hers, rubbing soothing circles across Azzi’s palm with her thumbs. “I got some new shit in the mail a few days ago. Come over and try them on?”

Azzi nodded gratefully. On their way out, Aaliyah and Jana were still laughing like hyenas, fingers flying across their screens as they texted the group chat about how they’d left Paige to her own devices. But as soon as Azzi sent them a withering stare, they both immediately shut up. “You’re such a pussy,” Jana whispered to Aaliyah. “You’re literally older than her.” Without looking up from her phone, Aaliyah jabbed Jana in the stomach.

Azzi made herself comfortable on Paige’s bed as the older girl started rummaging through some boxes in her closet. “Here.” Paige tossed a pile of plastic wrapped packages at Azzi.

Azzi’s hands hovered over the clothes. “You sure? You haven’t even gotten the chance to wear them yourself yet.”

Paige leaned down and pressed a kiss to Azzi’s neck, letting her lips linger on the sensitive pulse point that she knew made Azzi shudder. “Stop being so unselfish all the time,” she murmured, “or I’m gonna start making out with you and we’ll never make it to the concert.”

A rosy blush fell over Azzi’s cheeks. “That doesn’t sound half bad,” she admitted, tucking an unruly strand of blonde hair behind her girlfriend’s ear.

Paige playfully bit down on Azzi’s shoulder, earning a squeal from the dark haired girl. Smirking, she drew back and punched Azzi’s shoulder. “Try the clothes on, dumbass.”

“A full Supreme outfit outfit? Really?” Azzi wrinkled her nose in the mirror as she experimented with her shirt, tucking it in and scrunching up one side to see what would look best.

“It’s gonna be cold.” Paige tossed her a puffer vest. “This would go nice with the sweats.”

Azzi shrugged on the puffer vest. Tilting her head thoughtfully in the mirror, she rolled her shirt up to above her belly button, making it look like a cropped top. “Much better.”

“You tryna make people faint?” Paige complained, eyes glued to the shiny piercing on Azzi’s stomach.

Azzi grinned, hand gesturing across her body. “You like it?”

“You know I think you look good in everything.” Paige approached Azzi from behind, hands sneakily sliding under the vest to make contact with Azzi’s bare abdomen. Paige savored the way Azzi’s muscles contracted at her touch. “But you look better in this than I would, trust.” She nestled her chin on Azzi’s shoulder, her gaze meeting brown doe eyes in the mirror. “You look so pretty, baby.”

Azzi turned and planted a kiss on Paige’s cheek. “Wanna match? You can wear your other Supreme shirt?” She smiled at Paige, that goddamn smile reserved solely for the person she loved most in the world, and Paige had seen that smile and that dimple almost every day for six years now, but she swore her knees still went weak at the sight.

Paige’s thumb brushed the expanse of Azzi’s skin, dipping just below the waistline of her pants in a slow circle. “Anything you want.”

*********

“You know I can walk just fine by myself?”

Paige’s hands ghosted Azzi’s waist for the hundredth time that night. “I know.”

Thankful that Paige was behind her and couldn’t see her face, Azzi smiled. She would never admit it, but she loved whenever Paige got unnecessarily protective whenever they were in public, guiding her through crowds with a hand firmly planted on the small of her back. Their relationship was private to the point where they could never kiss or show affection in front of other people, but this was one subtle way Paige reminded Azzi of how much she loved her, and Azzi appreciated it.

“You’re shivering.” Azzi hadn’t even noticed how cold she was until Paige pointed it out, but suddenly she could feel the late night chill in her bones despite the body heat radiating from the crowd pressed against them.

“I’m fine,” Azzi brushed her off. “I’ll go buy a hot chocolate or something later.”

“You’re gonna get sick,” Paige murmured, hand reaching out to steady Azzi as she zipped up her girlfriend’s puffer.

“Can you guys stop being cute for once?” Aubrey grumbled from behind them.

Both of them ignored her.

When she noticed how Azzi was still trying to rub her hands together for warmth, Paige immediately took off her jacket and pushed it into Azzi’s hands.

“No,” Azzi insisted, trying to give the jacket back. “You’re literally in only a shirt Paige.”

“Well, I’m not cold at all,” Paige said stubbornly, refusing to accept the jacket. “Are you forgetting I grew up in Minnesota?”

“I’m not cold anymore,” Azzi lied.

Paige cocked an eyebrow. “So your lips aren’t trembling?”

Sighing in defeat, Azzi hesitated before slipping on the black coat over her puffer. Paige smirked, adjusting the collar so that it sat comfortably on Azzi’s shoulders. “Better?” she asked softly.

Azzi nodded, glancing around before bringing Paige’s hand to her mouth and pressing a fleeting kiss to her knuckles. “If you start getting cold I’m taking this jacket off,” she warned.

“I’m actually pretty warm,” Paige said breezily. “But I wouldn’t mind some extra body heat, if you know what I mean,” she said with an exaggerated wink.

Azzi rolled her eyes, biting back a smile as she huddled closer to her girlfriend, pressing her entire body against the blonde’s. Her fingers fumbled around before finding Paige’s hand and tangling them together.

“See? Perfect.”

#paige bueckers #azzi fudd #uconnwbb #pazzi #uconn wbb #wcbb #paige x azzi #paige bueckers x azzi fudd #fluff #blurb #fic

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frudoo · 4 months ago

Text

Mmmm unethical ER Doctor!Gaz…

Warnings: Fingering, edging, medical malpractice, inappropriate doctor/patient relations. Fem!Reader.

Your toes curl as you swing your legs off the side of the exam table, fingers tapping against your thighs nervously. It took forever for you to get called back, and it seems even longer, now, that you’ve had to wait on the actual doctor to show up. The bright fluorescent lights have started to make your head pound. Biting your lip, you debate on just leaving to try and deal with this… issue on your own again. The very issue that made you seek out help to begin with.

The paper sheet beneath you crinkles as you hop down, cursing yourself for wasting your own precious time. You grab your purse and open the privacy curtain to leave, effectively running into the doctor who had finally showed up. You’re not usually one to bitch and moan to people who are only here to help you, but you’ve been waiting for over an hour and you are in agony, damn it. For the first time in your life, you prepare to chew out a person you don’t even know, sucking in a deep breath.

“About time you… showed… up…” Your mouth drops open when you actually glance up to get a good look at the doctor’s face, immediately feeling your heart drop down to your stomach.

Towering over you with a cocked eyebrow and a cheeky smile is the most gorgeous person you have ever seen in your life. Flawlessly smooth skin and deep brown eyes, maddeningly straight teeth and a perfectly kissable nose. You find it impossible to tear your eyes from his luscious lips, entranced and frozen in place.

“Righ’. Sorry ‘bout tha’ wait. Would ya mind havin’ a seat up there f’me?” He hums, and fuck, even his voice is delicious.

“I- um- I’m so sorry,” you mumble, scrambling back to sit on the exam table once again.

“No’ to worry. I’ve dealt with far worse attitudes than yours,” he teases, and you curl your fingers into the hem of your skirt. “I’m Dr. Garrick, yeah? Says here your problem is… oh. Oh, my.”

You’re mentally cursing yourself. You could literally die right here and the only thing they’d put on your gravestone is ‘idiot.’ A very horny, very broke idiot.

“Yeah,” you tuck your lips into a tight line, humiliation evident in the way your entire body is trembling.

“Alrigh’. I can have a female come in t’do this if you’re more comfortable-”

“No! P-please, I just want it out,” you plead, nearly in tears at the thought of having to wait any longer.

“Hey, hey, tha’s fine,” he soothes. “Go ‘head and remove your bottoms f’me, I’m gonna step outside t’give ya some privacy.”

Dr. Garrick does as he said he would, closing the curtain behind him. With a shaky sigh, you remove your skirt and panties and set them aside, laying back on the table with your feet flat on the surface, knees bent and pressed together. After a few moments, the curtain slides open and the doctor steps back inside, clearing his throat softly.

“I’m jus’ gonna place your feet in some stirrups, alrigh’? It’ll be easier f’me, and hopefully more comfortable f’ya,” he explains, plopping onto his chair and rolling towards the table.

In the cubbies below you, there’s a contraption that pulls out to act as stirrups, and Dr. Garrick helps you guide your ankles onto them carefully. He then drapes a paper slip over your bottom half, giving you a false sense of security given what he’s about to do. You take a deep breath when you hear him go to wash his hands, wishing you were just about anywhere else but here. The seat puffs again and you flinch when you hear him snap on a pair of sterile gloves. Fucking hell. This is getting too real.

“Gonna have a look, now,” he says softly, placing two gloved fingers at your entrance.

Cautiously, he pulls your outer labia open in an attempt to find the object lodged inside of you. Shaking his head, he sighs.

“Can’t see it from out here. Gonna have to push inside,” he explains, gently pressing his middle finger inside of your pussy and feeling around. “Y’know, there are safer options than a hairbrush. I would recommend investin’ in a genuine sex toy, preferably with some kinda base at the bottom.”

“Noted,” you grit your teeth, biting back a moan when he inserts another gloved digit.

You’re already sensitive from having the broken hairbrush handle stuck inside you for over two hours now, and the way his fingers are stretching you out and rubbing against your walls is nothing short of overstimulating. With your eyes squeezed tightly shut, you don’t notice the way your doctor smirks, but you sure as hell feel the way his digits brush against your g-spot.

“Ah, I feel it, now,” he murmurs, curling his fingers to hit that bundle of nerves again.

You don’t expect him to shove his fingers in further, nor the way he speeds up, rapidly massaging your sweet spot. You can’t hold back the whimper that escapes your throat, your back arching uncomfortably, ankles slipping in the stirrups.

“Sorry, I know it’s sensitive,” he says, but there is no sympathy in his tone.

Dr. Garrick rests the pad of his thumb on your clit and circles it tightly, muttering something about needing stability to help him pull the object out. You bite your lip, thighs already trembling as you curse yourself for getting off from this. You simply can’t help it—a pretty man knuckles deep in your pussy, hitting all the right places flawlessly. You’re right on the edge when he pulls his fingers out, popping the hairbrush handle out with them.

“Got it,” he smiles proudly, and if tears weren’t blurring your vision, you might have seen the smug glint in his eye because he knows he ruined your orgasm.

You hear a clank and then the snap of his gloves being pulled off. A weary sob escapes your throat at the newfound emptiness, your cunt clenching around nothing and your swollen clit still throbbing. Dr. Garrick helps your feet back down from the stirrups, watching the way you just lay there limp. He sniffs, hovering over your body and leaning in close to your face.

“Y’know, if ya don’t want a toy, ya can always give me a call. I won’t keep ya waitin’ next time.”

#next time it’ll be a cucumber #call of duty #cod #cod mw2 #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick #gaz x reader #gaz x fem!reader #doctor!gaz

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lilbitdepressed27 · 4 months ago

Note

Can you do a fic where the core four find out Tara is dating a really famous singer (Fem reader) and how Sam would take it?

Tara Carpenter/Fem!Reader

WC: 2.3k

Author’s Note: hope you enjoy, and it’s up to your expectations.sorry for the wait

For the life of her, Tara couldn't understand what or how she got to call you her girlfriend. She remembered meeting you like it was yesterday when in reality it was six months ago. She remembered being in the library trying to study for her final exam, she had lost track of time. When she heard someone somewhat loudly talking on the phone.

The tiredness and the hunger she was feeling (that was making her head hurt) boiled over into anger as she slammed her book shut. Storming up to whoever was talking so loudly. (It's wasn't that loud, it was more of a whisper yelling. But she was irritated.)

"Look Max, I'm in a library. I'm just gonna check some books out and that's it. Oh my god, Rex is outside. Yes I know-Hey, can you talk a little bit quitter some of us are trying to study."

Her irritation was gone the moment you had turned around. Her jaw dropping and eyes widening at the sight of your apologetic face.

You hung up the phone the moment you heard the voice. A wave of embarrassment washed over you. "I'm so sorry that was my ma-mom. My mom. She worries. She's a worrier. Uh sorry I disturbed your study session."

"You're Y/n Y/ln...the singer."

It wasn't long ago that she was literally drooling over a thirst trap about you on TikTok. She gets way too many thirst traps of you on her for you page. Not that she's complaining.

Looking back at that memory, her face still flushed with embarrassment. She couldn't believe she had snapped at you. Although a part of her was kinda glad she did. Cause now here she was dating you. She was happier than ever.

Keeping the relationship a secret was surprisingly easy. With you being on a bit of a hiatus after a long, long world tour. You had so much free time. Time that she loved that you spent with her. Most of the time was spent at your own apartment, she had to lie a few times to Sam. Seeing as Sam didn't know she was dating you.

Being with you had been so freeing. She felt so happy. You made her feel safe, you took her protection very seriously. When going out with her, you always had your bodyguards with you. The men were always prepared and ready. Keeping a good distance to give you both a bit of privacy. Frank and Bill, the ex marine bodyguards were the sweetest but were not afraid to get physical with anyone.

You weren't either, you had gotten verbal with an older woman who wouldn't stop bugging her about the Woodborro's attacks. She had never been more attracted to you, seeing you curse out the older woman. Not even letting the woman get a word in.

"Hey baby, are you done studying now?"

Arms wrapped around her shoulders from behind. The light kisses you placed on her neck. Tilting her head so you had more room as she leaned back in her chair. Gladly accepting your kisses.

"You've been in here for hours, you need to rest. Come on." Moving the chair to face away from the desk. Turning the chair to face you. "Come on. I already got the bath ready for you, I also made us some dinner."

Tara couldn't help but fall more in love. You were always so sweet, caring, just so adorable to her. A completely different person than when you're on tv or with other people. The person in front of her, only she had the luxury to see this way.

"Join me?"

"Without question."

She did more than just relax in that bathtub.

"When am I going to meet the person you've been sneaking out to go see?"

It was late in the afternoon when she had gotten home. You were busy meeting with some people to talk about business, till late. You had wanted to make sure everything was set for your long hiatus that you were going to take. She knew you deserved it. After being on tour for almost two years, your world tour made billions and it was one of the biggest tours in history.

You deserved to rest.

So she had made her way home. Opting to just stay there so Sam wouldn't suspect anything. Clearly she underestimated her sister. Cause she had almost jumped a full foot in the air at the unsuspected voice the moment she stepped into the apartment.

"Jesus Sam. I thought you were at work." She tried to ignore the question as she set her keys and bag down before heading to the kitchen. To her dismay her sister followed her.

"Come on Tara. You know I worry, just let me meet them so I can see if I can trust them, and possibly have Kirby run a background check."

With a shake of her head and a laugh, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Tara you're my sister, I can tell when you're lying." Sam crossed her arms, as she took in her little sister. For the past few months she's seen the change in her sister. Tara seemed more happy, at peace. A complete 180 from how she was when they first moved to New York. Don't get her wrong she loved this change. Tara openly talked about the things that happened in Woodboro with her. Talking about wanting to move on.

But she knew Tara was hiding something/someone. She also saw the love marks on her sister neck that Tara clearly tried to hide.

"It's Y/n Y/ln."

A mock laugh was all Tara got. "Come on Tara seriously. Who's this person."

With a grin in return, "I am serious."

"Fine don't tell me. But I will find out."

You had been messing around with your guitar when you heard your doors lock unlatch and open. Only one person had a key to your apartment. So with you knowing who it was you put your guitar on its stand, leaving your studio to meet the love of your life.

"Hey baby." Seeing her was always such a sight you loved. She was absolutely beautiful. Even when she was clearly overthinking something. She had the familiar furrowed eyebrows and pout when she was deep in thought. Gently tapping her nose, her slight jump didn't go unnoticed. "What's wrong?"

Tara leaned into your embrace the moment you brought her into a hug. The feeling of your hand gently creasing her back. She just loved being in your arms.

"How do you feel about meeting my sister and best friends?" At the sight of your smile, her nerves settled.

"Nervous, but I would love to."

Tara had been pacing the living room for the past ten minutes. It won't be long till you got here. With you being a big artist, you always wore funny disguises to blind in with the normal crowd. It sometimes reminded her of Superman. Everyone knew Superman, but hardly anyone knew Clark Kent. Which also meant you were going to take a bit longer than usual.

"Tara would you relax. It's not like we're meeting anyone famous. We just want to ask her a few questions and then have Kirby run a background check." Mindy said from her seat on the couch, getting a bit dizzy from seeing Tara pacing. Anika was right next to her cuddled up to her.

She was nervous, it'd be the first relationship she'd be in with Sam around. And she wanted Sam's approval. Sam was her big sister after all. Sam wouldn't care if you were a big artist. It would still take her time to trust you.

You were absolutely losing your mind, you don't remember ever feeling so nervous. You didn't know much about the ghostface murders, let alone the stab movies. You didn't really like slasher movies. You didn't do any research, not even when Tara told you what had happened to her. You didn't want to come across any crime photos you were for sure to see. From the scars on Tara's body you knew her encounter with said ghostface (who also happened to be her best friend) had been gruesome.

You also knew that Sam was protective. And you couldn’t blame the sister.

So you wanted to make a good first impression. With a nice bottle of wine. It was also extremely expensive but no one had to know that.

You were in front of Tara's apartment door a lot quicker than you had hoped. You've preformed in front of thousands of people but these, these was your first serious relationship. Your first time meeting a significant others family. Since the start of your career you had always focused more on your music. Never focusing on the many girls that were basically throwing themselves at you.

Tara though, Tara was different. She made you feel so, special, in love. Cared for. She was your person.

Knocking on the door as you took off your hat, wig, face mask and glasses. The door opened and Tara's beautiful face greeted you. You could see the nerves in her eyes but one look at you and she seemed to relax.

"Hey gorgeous, I brought wine. I wasn't sure what to bring, I was gonna call but I was, I'm a bit nervous-Hey it's okay. The wine is perfect." Seeing how nervous you were she pushed her own nerves down. She knew this was your first time meeting a girls family. Something she found hard to believe. She could have sworn you had been dating Renee Rapp. But the blonde singer was just your best friend.

"Come on. Also they might freak out and stare, so be prepared."

You took a deep breath and exhaled trying to steady your nerves. With Tara's hand in yours. You heard people talking in the living room. With your hand in Tara's she lead you to the living room, the voices quickly stopping at the sight of you. You took in the way their eyes widen and jaws dropped.

"Guys this is Y/n, my girlfriend. Y/n those are the twins, Chad and Mindy. Anika who's Mindy's girlfriend, Quinn my roommate, that's Ethan and this is Sam my sister."

You forced your nerves down, the girl Quinn broke the silence. "You're Y/n Y/Ln." the disbelief was heard in her voice. Her eyes refusing to take her eyes off you. It was starting to make you a bit uncomfortable. The way she was looking at you was menacing in a way. Like you were some type of award that she was dying to have. It was an odd look. One that only made you feel so uncomfortable, a squeeze to your hand took your eyes away from the red head to the brunette standing to your side.

Sam had tried to hide her disbelief as she took you in. She herself had been a fan of yours for quite a while now, remembered feeling a bit of disappointment when you had announced your hiatus after your last world tour show. A tour she had sworn she'd try to go to but with everything that had happened the opportunity never came.

You offered a small smile at the tall brunette. She was taller than Tara which was a bit funny. Tara looked absolutely adorable standing next to her sister. Extremely tiny next to her sister and friends. The uncomfortable feeling you had with the red head being forgotten at the sight of your beautiful girlfriend. "It's nice to finally meet you Sam. Your sister talks highly about you."

At mention of that, it had Sam smiling but yet her eye brows raised. Tara rolled her eye in return but yet she was also smiling. As much as Tara told you, how they butted heads. You knew Tara admired her big sister. And based off the look the older carpenter had casted Tara's way. You also knew that Tara's opinion on Sam mattered.

"Thank you, although Tara hasn't said anything about you-Wait yes I did! I told you about Y/n last time you cornered me."

"I didn't believe you!" Sam quickly responded.

“Dude who would? Tara I’m sorry but holy shit Y/n you are a whole lot hotter in person.” Mindy said her eyes still wide in disbelief. Quickly snapping out of it when Anika elbowed her side.

Chad was the first out of the three to stand up, “It’s nice to meet you Y/n, you think you can get us to meet Beyoncé?” He received an even harder elbow to the stomach by Mindy.

At the sound of your chuckle, Tara felt herself relax leaning into your side. Watching you get along with her friends and Sam was all she wanted.

Getting to know Tara's friends and sister was fun. Even though that red head still kinda gave you a weird vibe. Thankfully she had retreated to her room. With time it had come down to just you Tara and Sam. Tara momentarily leaving to use the restroom.

“Okay so I know Tara is all about independence and her freedom. So all I’m going to say, treat her right, make her happy and we won’t have any issues.” Sam said, although she still planned to have Kirby run a background check. Yes you were a big star, and even though she was a fan. Her sister’s safety came first.

“I will Sam, I love you sister. More than anything. I take her safety seriously as well. And Tara told me you were probably going to have one of your friends run a background check on me.” At the sight of her wide eyed and the slight redness on her cheeks. You chuckled, “Be free to. I don’t hide anything well maybe my once obsession with supercorp.”

Sam let out a small laugh. Even though you were thee Y/n Y/Ln. it would take time to fully trust you.

#tara carpenter x reader #fem!reader #scream #tara carpenter #jenna ortega x fem!reader

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chaotic-orphan · 7 months ago

Text

Recapture

Hello! I’m sorry I have been absent, but the next two weeks are my exam times and I most likely won’t be active, but good news is that my exams finish on the 17th! Which means a whole summer of more writing!! Thank you for being patient and here’s a lil whump drabble to scratch that itch

*~*~*~*~*

Caretaker was dragged through the camp struggling like a worm on a hook. Two of Whumper’s men stood on either side of them, marching Caretaker by their arms to Whumper. Caretaker’s hands were zip-tied awkwardly behind their back, and no matter which way they moved their wrists the plastic cut into them sharply.

Caretaker saw Whumper before they reached their tent. Slightly larger than most, big enough to hold a cot and a space for tactics. Whumper’s war room. Whumper’s hair shone like a star in the darkest night’s sky, the moonlight reflecting off of the silvery strands. It always looked a little off, a little too unreal. A little too beautiful.

Whumper smiled when they saw Caretaker being dragged towards them, dismissing the people they were talking with to greet Caretaker with open arms. Literally.

“Caretaker,” they said, voice happy and light. “I know it’s only been a few hours, but I must say I missed you.”

“Yeah, well,” Caretaker replied, their voice coming out weaker than they would’ve liked. “You’re like a rash I can’t get rid of.”

Whumper’s eyes widened slightly as they glanced over Caretaker’s head to see if there would be another in zip-ties like Caretaker. Looking for Whumpee. Then they fell to one of the guards holding Caretaker. Without a command, the two guards threw Caretaker to the ground. Their hands shot out to catch themselves but caught on the zip-ties, and the best Caretaker could do to not eat a face full of dirt was to let their shoulder take the brunt of the impact.

“Caretaker, Caretaker, Caretaker,” Whumper said with a long sigh. Caretaker watched Whumper’s shiny boots draw closer to them. Then swing back out of sight swiftly. Caretaker barely had enough time to catch their breath before it was forced out of them, let alone try and turn away as a gleaming boot came down in a flash. It hit their ribs and Caretaker gasped, curling into a ball but it didn’t stop the next kick, or the next, or the next.

Whumper’s boots stopped in front of Caretaker’s eyes. Whumper sighed above them, and crouched down. Leather creaked as Whumper ran their fingers through Caretaker’s hair and made a fist before yanking. Caretaker cried out as Whumper craned Caretaker’s head back until they were looking into Whumper’s cold, impassive face.

Whumper tilted their head to the side. “Where’s my favourite pet, hmm? Where did you leave them?”

“I don’t know where they are,” Caretaker spat. “I just know they’re far away from you.”

Whumper’s smile could freeze hell, and seeing it sent shivers down Caretaker’s spine. Whumper released Caretaker’s hair and pushed them onto their back, leaning a knee down on Caretaker’s chest.

“That’s not the answer I want to hear, Caretaker.”

“Fuck you!” Caretaker ground out, then let out a sharp cry after Whumper punched them in the face. Their head smacked back off the dirt ground of the camp and Caretaker felt a headache creep into their skull.

For a long moment, Whumper just stared down at Caretaker, the same cold smile on his lips. Then Whumper got to his feet and waved his hand at Caretaker. Caretaker didn’t have to wait long to know what that gesture meant before the guards were taking his arms again and yanking him up.

Caretaker kicked out at them, catching one of them on their hip and turning to twist out of the other’s grip. The other yanked Caretaker towards them, throwing them off balance. Before they managed to correct it the guard they kicked had their hands on Caretaker’s elbow again and between them they managed to subdue a feral, cursing Caretaker.

Caretaker stopped struggling when their eyes were enthralled by Whumper’s, as if they were caught in a snare. It made their blood run cold. Not Whumper’s eyes or cold smile, but his current bare index finger and thumb that was removing their remaining glove from their hand.

“Caretaker…” Whumper said with a sigh. “I really hate to do this, especially to you. You’re my— you were my closest friend. You and I were like family.”

Caretaker fought to urge to try and back up in the guards hold. Everything in their body screamed at them to flee. To run, but they forced themselves to remain in place.

“We were friends before you needed goons to do your dirty work for you.”

Whumper’s eyes flashed with amusement as they advanced on Caretaker, reaching forward and ignoring Caretaker’s flinch, stroked the back of their knuckle along Caretaker’s jaw. Something so familiar about it broke Caretaker’s heart, but only now did they see the manic possession Whumper mistook for love in their eyes.

“That’s right, we were. Back when you were the one to do my dirty work for me, right?”

Caretaker swallowed the lump in their throat, or tried to, because it was still lodged there.

“Then you had to go and get noble, Caretaker. All for a pathetic nobody who wouldn’t return the favour.”

“I’d do it again.” It was a confession.

Whumper had the gall to look a little sad as they said softly: “I know. And you know what I must do now.”

Caretaker tried not to cry. They wanted to greet their maker with dignity. “I do.”

Whumper steeled their expression, jaw clenching, moulding their face as far to impassive as they could.

“For what it’s worth,” Caretaker said softly, their voice scratchy as if they had just swallowed sand. “You were my fiercest friend too. I don’t regret what I did, but I’m sorry I had to betray you.”

Whumper’s stoic expression cracked a little. In their left eye, Caretaker saw the telltale twitch and they smiled. They knew if they were alone Whumper would have expressed their doubts too, but Caretaker knew it had to end this way when they broke Whumpee free. Whumper knew it when they found Whumpee’s cage empty.

Caretaker nodded. Then closed their eyes and waited for the final blow.

It didn’t come.

Instead, Caretaker heard the most devastating sound they would ever hear.

“WAIT!”

Caretaker’s eyes shot open meeting Whumper’s smirking face. Caretaker lurched forward, renewing every struggling effort to get free of the guards’ hold but Caretaker didn’t get very far.

“Whumper, wait! Whumper! Don’t,” Caretaker cried, trying to squirm out of the guards’ hold but every time they got a bit of leeway the guards would change their position and keep Caretaker firmly between them. “Whumpee! RUN!”

“Oh, it’s too late for that, Caretaker,” Whumper said with a smile. “My men already have them. They’re bringing Whumpee up now.”

Whumper turned their attention back to Caretaker, a cruel glint in their eye that scared Caretaker. “Looks like you betrayed me for nothing,” Whumper told them and Caretaker’s seemed to disintegrate in their chest.

It wasn’t gentle, more like a shrapnel bomb going off inside them, pieces of sharp metal lodging in everything. It was difficult to breathe as if Whumper had his goons submerge Caretaker in a barrel of water and was waiting for them to drown.

When Whumpee’s eyes caught Caretaker’s they wanted to scream.

Why didn’t you run?

I told you to run!

This wasn’t apart of the plan!

I risked everything for you.

Whumpee’s expression was entirely apologetic, and it broke something else inside Caretaker. “I’m sorry… I couldn’t let you die.”

Whumper let out a little laugh at that. Caretaker stared at Whumpee, certain every emotion was crossing their face. Until Whumper stepped between them and Caretaker’s gaze strayed to his face instead.

Whumper reached a hand out and settled it under Caretaker’s chin, tilting their head up to face Whumper. They wanted to cry, to scream, to spit. All they did was stare.

“See what heroics gets you?” Whumper said gently. Caretaker couldn’t speak, emotion clogging their throat and not letting air or words through.

Without breaking eye contact with Caretaker, Whumper said: “bring Whumpee back to their cage, and make sure you double the guards around their tent.”

All adrenaline left Caretaker’s body in a quick flush leaving them drained and defeated. “You’re coming with me to my tent, Caretaker,” Whumper promised, something dangerously soft colouring their voice. “We have much to discuss.”

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lizard-on-a-window-pane · 7 months ago

Note

sunlight ☀️

hii it’s me againn. could you also do tasm peter who is nerdy and nerdy reader? and it’s kind of like a meet cute at the library? that’s literally my dream 😔 (you can tell i’m in my spiderman kick again)

-🎀

love a good spiderman kick ☺️ hope you like it!

pairing: TASM!Peter Parker x reader word count: 1.4k tags: just fluff

The exam was next week, and Peter still hadn’t gotten a chance to so much as glance at the most helpful textbook. The only copy the library carried had been way over due for ages, and the damn things were way too expensive to buy. He hoped it would be back by today because the late fees would be so much worse after today’s cut off. So, into the library he strode to look for it for what felt like the millionth time.

He was sure the librarian remembered him, and which book he was after, after so many attempts, so he went straight up to the desk. Peter raised his eyebrows in question, in hope. He wrung his hands together as the librarian gave him a look he couldn’t quite decipher. “So?” he finally couldn’t help.

“You just missed it,” the librarian deadpanned. How could she be so damn calm? She must know his life depended on getting his hands on this book! Well, maybe not his life, but definitely his grade… important enough.

“What?! And you didn’t hold it for me or something?” “Hold it for you? What do you think this is, kid? We don’t take reservations.”

After a moment, though, she sighed in slight defeat, something akin to pity entering her hardened features. She gave a sideways nod toward the person standing at the other end of the desk.

“Maybe she’ll share,” she whispered.

Peter followed her look. His eyes landed on a girl. She looked mortified. Given the books lying next to her open backpack on the desk, she’d clearly been packing them up. At the top of the pile lay the coveted textbook. And she’d clearly overheard his whole exchange with the librarian.

You lock your gaze onto the books in front of you. You could feel your cheeks warming, and the last thing you wanted was to accidentally make eye contact with this stranger. This ridiculously attractive stranger you’d noticed in class before… Peter Parker… who had clearly had the same idea about the book being returned today…

You feel terrible at having snatched it up just before him. You hadn’t known someone else was after it, too, but you could’ve guessed, and it felt like pure luck that you got it first. You have no idea how to react, and before you can come up with any idea at all, you sense him stepping toward you and freeze in panic.

“Um, hey,” Peter whisper-says. God, why didn’t he just speak at a normal volume? He was in the library, sure, but just the entrance. He’s sure he sounded weird, and that’s the last thing he wanted after his little outburst clearly made you uncomfortable. It wasn’t your fault you’d gotten the book before him.

Your eyes dart up to meet his at his words, and when they do, his nerves increase tenfold. Your eyes are so damn pretty. All of you is. And you look half way to an anxiety attack at his approach. “Hey, sorry,” he tries. “Sorry, I know we don’t know each other, but I just… Um, well… Sorry about that,” he ends lamely, gesturing back to where his exchange with the librarian just occurred. “It’s okay,” you whisper, smiling awkwardly and tucking your hair behind your ears. You look back down at your hands, pulling at the too-long sleeves of your shirt.

Peter’s hand comes up to his head, messing with his hair in a typical nervous tick. He can’t stop staring at you, and you can’t stop avoiding his stare. He had to say something else before the mounting awkwardness blew up. Why couldn’t he think of anything? God, why was his heart racing faster than it ever did when he had to fight giant, scary monsters? Somehow you were scarier.

“Um,” he starts again. “You in, uh, you in Vidal’s biology class?” he ventures, guessing you need the book to study for the same exam as he. It blows his mind he hasn’t noticed you before if you are.

“Mmhmm,” you nod softly.

“Me too,” he says and cringes. “I don’t recognize you.” “Oh, I don’t know. I tend to sit in the back.” You finally look up at him as you say this. Your eyes meet, and it’s too much to handle. After what feels like an eternal instant, you both look away chuckling.

Peter’s just nodding like an idiot, chewing his bottom lip, reeling for something else to say but failing miserably. At this point, the thought of getting the book has totally vanished from his mind. The fear of failing next week has been completely replaced with the fear of failing right now. The idea of your walking away and his not getting to talk to you again makes his stomach sink.

You’re just staring at your hands, unsure what you’re supposed to do in this kind of situation. How do people just know what they’re supposed to do when other people are involved?

You still feel really bad that you got the book first, and you figure he’s only still talking to you to ask when you’ll be done with it. The exam is so soon, you hadn’t really been planning to return it till after. But keeping it to yourself when he needed it too made your stomach twist. You didn’t even know him, but you wanted to help him. So, you mustered the courage to do something you know, from experience, you otherwise wouldn’t do.

You say softly, “If you want… um, I don’t know… maybe, we could share it?”

“What?” he responds, too quickly, confused, his voice nervously airy.

You’re not sure if he didn’t hear what you said — possible with how softly you’re speaking — or didn’t understand what you meant, so you don’t know what to say. Words are too hard, so you just grab the book — your hands grateful for something to do — and hold it up to him like an offering.

“Oh!” he hiccups. Then, “Oh,” he says more quietly, chuckling lightly. “I mean, I don’t want to bother you. You got it first fair and square.” “Yeah,” you shrug. “But you need it, too, right?”

“Yeah…” His mind begins stirring up images of the two of you studying together… maybe laughing together eventually… sitting closer together to both get a good look at the book…

It’s making his heart beat faster, and he realizes he’d be an idiot to not seize the opportunity. It’s the perfect excuse to spend more time with you, and he doesn’t even have to ask you out. Yet.

So, he quickly says, “Yeah, um, sharing would be great. If you don’t mind. I can just meet up with you whenever you were going to study anyway… Wherever is good for you; I don’t mind; you choose; whatever you prefer is good with me —” Having started, he can’t stop talking now, his nerves morphing into words, eager to leave his body.

You giggle at his garrulousness, and he knows he’s in trouble when the sound of it makes his breath hitch.

“Well,” you say. “I was planning to get started now… you know, since I’d been waiting to get my hands on the book. If you wanted to, um, maybe go to the café maybe?”

You hadn’t in fact been planning to start right away. If you were honest with yourself, you’d been planning to put it off till you couldn’t not… like you always did no matter how hard you tried to get an early start. Note to self: the only cure you’ve found to procrastination so far: ridiculously pretty boys with warm eyes and a voice you could listen to forever.

“Yeah, that’d be great. That’d be great,” he nods, smiling. It’s the first time you’ve seen him fully smile. You’d be happy to just hand him the book as long as you could watch him study, the exam be damned.

“Great,” you repeat, grabbing your things and turning toward the café. Your eyes widen in panicked disbelief at what just happened. You glance slightly back just to make sure you hadn’t imagined it, and sure enough: Peter Parker is taking a quick step to follow you. He falls in step with you as you walk, and it’s terrifying and invigorating just how much you like the feeling of him close beside you.

#peter parker #tasm!peter parker #tasm!peter x reader #tasm!peter x you #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #tasm!peter fluff #tasm!peter imagine #tasm! peter oneshot #tasm!peter fanfic #spiderman fanfiction #ria1k

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redvdress · 2 months ago

Text

CHEMISTRY GENIUS

A/N after you failed your chemistry test and kuroo laughed at you exactly like that (photo), he didn’t waste this opportunity to show you why literally everyone (except you) had asked him to study together, i bet kenma passes his exams only because kuroo exists. but it’s still kuroo we’re talking about, so enjoy this canon and teasing kuroo

Kuroo Tetsurou had a plan. The moment you had agreed to a study session, he couldn’t help but smirk, knowing full well he’d turn this “study session” into something more.

Sure, chemistry was important, and he’d help you, but when it came to spending time with you, every moment counted—and he had no intention of letting it go to waste.

You had agreed to study at a local café near Nekoma High. It was quiet, cozy, and not too far from either of your homes, making it the perfect spot. You had arrived a bit early, already seated at a table near the back, your notebook open and headphones in place.

You were focused, as usual, probably reading over some material before Kuroo showed up.

Kuroo, on the other hand, had taken his time getting there. Not because he wasn’t eager—he was—but because he knew exactly how to make an entrance. He slipped through the door, spotted you immediately, and smirked as he approached you from behind.

“Chibi-chan” (i BET this man calls you like this even if you’re just a little shorter than him and even if you’re taller, he just couldn’t help but tease you) he greeted in a sing-song voice, causing you to jump slightly, pulling one of your headphones out as you turned to face him.

“Kuroo, you scared me,” you said, though your voice was calm, almost as if you expected his sudden appearance.

Kuroo just grinned as he slid into the seat next to you, not across from you as you might’ve anticipated. “Well, I wouldn’t want you getting too comfortable before the real fun begins,” he teased, setting his bag down.

You raised an eyebrow at him. “Fun? I thought we were studying.”

Kuroo leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest, a devilish glint in his eyes. “Oh, we’re studying. But I never said studying couldn’t be fun, did I?”

You shot him a skeptical look, but the slight smile playing at the corners of your lips betrayed your amusement.

“Alright, Mr. Chemistry Genius, let’s get started.”

He pulled his chair closer to yours, the space between them practically nonexistent now. Kuroo made a show of flipping through his own notes, but the entire time, his eyes kept darting back to you. After a few moments, he casually reached out, his hand brushing against yours as if by accident. When you didn’t pull away, he smirked.

“Hey, you didn’t answer my question from the other day,” he said suddenly, breaking the focus you had been putting into reading.

You blinked, confused. “What question?”

Kuroo leaned in slightly, his voice lowering as if he were telling you a secret. “About whether or not this counts as a date.”

You felt your cheeks warm slightly at the suggestion, your focus faltering for a moment. “We’re… studying,” you replied, attempting to sound indifferent. “So, no.”

“Oh, come on,” Kuroo teased, nudging you lightly with his shoulder. “We’re at a café. Just the two of us. Sitting next to each other…” His fingers lightly tapped against yours again, this time more deliberate.

“I’d say it has all the ingredients for a date.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, though your blush deepened. “You think everything is a date.”

“Only when it’s with you,” Kuroo replied smoothly, his tone playful but sincere.

You tried to focus on your notes again, but Kuroo wasn’t having it. He shifted his attention to your hand, lightly tracing his fingers over yours before gently taking your hand in his. “You know” he said, turning your hand over, “for someone who claims not to care about this being a date, you haven’t exactly let go of my hand.”

You shot him a quick glare, but the way he was looking at you, that soft smirk on his face, made it hard to be annoyed.

You huffed slightly. “Because you’re holding it.”

“And yet… you’re not pulling away,” Kuroo pointed out, his voice teasing yet soft.

He brought your hand closer, his thumb running over your knuckles in a surprisingly gentle manner before he lifted it slightly and placed a small kiss on the back of your hand.

It was so subtle, yet so charged with the soft warmth between them, that you felt your heart race.

“Kuroo…” you muttered, your tone half-warning, half-embarrassed.

“Yes, Chibi-chan?” he replied, his lips still hovering close to your hand.

You sighed, trying to focus. “Are we here to study or…?”

Kuroo grinned, finally releasing your hand but not before placing another kiss there. “Of course we are. But,” he added, leaning in just a little closer, “I’m just making sure you stay motivated.”

You rolled your eyes, though a small smile tugged at your lips. You knew he wasn’t going to make this study session normal—he never did anything the ‘normal’ way when it came to you. But the teasing, the light touches, the way he looked at you like he was always planning his next move—it made studying with him fun in its own way. And, though you’d never admit it aloud, you liked that he kept things interesting.

You spent the next hour going over your notes. True to his word, Kuroo was helpful, explaining difficult concepts in chemistry with ease, his voice confident but never condescending. Every now and then, he’d throw in a teasing comment or joke, making you laugh despite your best efforts to stay focused.

“See, this isn’t so bad, is it?” Kuroo said, leaning in again as he pointed out something on your notebook.

You glanced up at him. “I guess it’s… alright.”

“‘Alright?’” Kuroo repeated, raising an eyebrow. “I’ll have you know, I’m an excellent tutor. In fact, I’m pretty sure I’ve just earned myself the title of ‘Best Chemistry Teacher Ever.’”

You chuckled. “Is that so?”

“Mhm,” Kuroo said, turning to face you fully.

He rested his chin in his hand, looking at you with a soft smile. “And if you pass the next test, I’ll accept my reward in the form of another study date.”

You shook your head, trying not to smile. “You really think this counts as a date?”

Kuroo leaned in a little closer, his voice dropping to that soft, teasing tone he used only when you were alone.

“If I get to spend time with you like this, it counts as a date to me.”

You felt your cheeks warm again, but you couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Impossible to resist?” Kuroo teased, his grin wide.

You nudged him with your shoulder again. “Let’s get back to studying, Kuroo.”

Kuroo laughed, pulling back just slightly but still staying close. “Alright, alright. But just so you know, I’m counting this as our third date.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, though you couldn’t hide your amusement. “You’ve already counted?”

“Of course I have,” Kuroo replied, his tone almost serious. “Gotta keep track of every moment we spend together, Chibi-chan. Especially when you keep me on my toes.”

You continued studying for a while longer, the playful teasing between you never quite fading, but it only added to the warmth that had been growing steadily between you.

It wasn’t until the café started to dim its lights slightly, signaling that closing time was near, that Kuroo finally leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms out.

“Well, that was productive,” he said, glancing over at you. “And you’re officially a chemistry genius now, thanks to me.”

You laughed softly. “I don’t know if I’d go that far.”

“Don’t sell yourself short. You were a great student.” He stood up, grabbing his bag and offering his hand to you.

“Now, come on. I’ll walk you home.”

As you walked out of the café, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself .

Study session or not, Kuroo always found a way to make everything feel like a date—and honestly, you didn’t mind it one bit.

#kuroo tetsurou #kuroo testuro #kuroo fluff #kuroo x reader #haikyuu kuroo #kuroo tetsuro x reader #hq kuroo #kuroo x you #kuroo tetsuro x you #haikyuu #haikyu x reader #haikyu fluff

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xdinaryvamp · 2 months ago

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ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ 💿 ` ricky “three point shot”!!

where you love to watch basketball games, even if you know nothing about the game, and a player loves to watch you, even if he doesn't even know your name.

genre : fluff, gn reader.

pairings : basketball player!ricky × spectator!reader.

when you needed to distract yourself a bit, you always went for a walk in a park that wasn't too far from your house.

sometimes you walked while listening to music on your headphones, completely losing yourself in the landscape. other times you stopped in the shade to read a book, or to review some topic for the next exam. and sometimes, instead, you sat in the stands of the small basketball court in the center of the park, watching the people playing.

you had never been particularly good at basketball, nor did you know the rules well, but it was a sport that, for some reason, you had always enjoyed watching. and you weren't the only one doing it either: there was always a small crowd of people watching the games, even if they were mostly young kids.

a "serious" game had never been played on that court, and in your city there wasn't even a real basketball team, but some boys and girls often met to play games, momentarily becoming the celebrities of the park. one of these, in particular, had already noticed you sitting in those stands for a while. match after match he met your gaze, but you promptly forgot about it, concentrated as you were on trying to understand which team was winning (it was difficult when they didn't wear the same shirts).

one day, before a match, he sat next to you. and you, at that moment, didn't even recognize him as one of the players, but simply as another spectator.

"you really like basketball, huh?" he asked you, exactly a moment before you decided to lean over a little to have more space.

“uh?”

“when i play,” he explained, pointing with a finger at the basketball court "i almost always see you sitting here. i could almost start thinking i have a fan.” he smiled, looking back at you.

“oh” for some reason it made you feel a little awkward knowing that there was someone who had noticed you for so long "i really like watching the game, even though I don't actually how to play it." you added, out of fear that he would invite you to play because maybe he was missing a player. but that wasn't the reason he was talking to you.

“so i don’t have a fan.” he joked, resting his chin on his hand. “what a pity.”

you laughed, purposely pretending to think about it. "i just told you that i don't know much about basketball, how would i identify the best player?” you explained, though not very seriously, “i only become a fan of the best.”

he smiled amusedly, then rose from the stand to stand in front of you.

“if u won the match today, would you do me the honor of going to eat something out with me?” he asked, tilting his head slightly.

“why should i do that?” you asked, confused as to what this had to do with what you had just said. but not against the idea; he was still a charming boy to say the least.

“well, if i won i'd be the best, and then you'd know who to be a fan of,” he said, counting the explanations he was giving on his fingers, “i would also take advantage of the hangout to explain the game to you. unless you want to do something else.” he crossed his arms over his chest, looking at you with an expression that must have seemed confident, but to you it simply looked funny.

you laughed again, shaking your head. “fine. if you win, i'll go out with you.”

he smiled at you, before being called back by one of the players who was waiting for him to start the game.

“i'm ricky, by the way.”

“y/n.”

“such a beautiful name.” he said, before running onto the basketball court and winning the game.

i literally haven't even reread it, but i needed to get some cliché fluff out of my head. and what better than a classic basketball player? ( i'm a slvt for them, send help )

#zb1 ricky #zb1 x reader #zb1 x you #zb1 x y/n #shen ricky #ricky x reader #kpop fanfic #ricky x you #fanfic #kpop x reader #zb1 ricky x reader

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galaxiasgreen · 4 months ago

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📚🐦‍🔥Stay With Me

Slow burn Garreth x F!Reader romcom-mystery [T-Rated, 5.6k words]

You don't meet his eye. "I've prepared you some questions, for this... tutorship." You unbuckle your satchel and take out not one, not two, but four rolls of parchment, one for each subject, and slide them across the table. "It's simple multiple-choice so I can figure out how much you know. It won't take you long to do." He stares at them, open-mouthed. "You've set me homework?"

Garreth Weasley is good at Potions… and not much else. You, a bookish, lonesome Ravenclaw with a weighted family secret, are good at everything… except Potions. Assigned together for a mutual tutorship, Garreth is sure he won’t meet anyone more boring.

But the potions lab isn’t the only place where sparks will fly.

Tropes: romance/ humour/ drama, slow burn, fluff, tutoring together, grumpy x sunshine, strangers-to-friends-to-lovers, pining, love triangle, dark secret, sworn off love, Everyone Can See It.

[read on AO3, read on Wattpad]

A/N: Just to note, in this story Garreth and others fought Ranrok with MC. Enjoy!

He calls you Prim, mostly because you hate it.

It's not a nickname Garreth gives you for fun (though make no mistake, he loves to tease you with it). No, it's a nickname that's descriptive, deriving from your most cardinal trait. Prim, because you are. Prim and proper and academically minded. Meanwhile he's never had an aptitude for learning, preferring the freedom of exploration over the rigid structure of curriculum.

On paper, you seem like a match made in hell – but in practice? Well, he's always up for a challenge.

He doesn't get to meet you, though, until the dawn of his sixth year, when easy classes and free periods for the exam-weary older students are over. He doesn't even meet you on the day he first hears of you.

Back then, you were merely an illicit suggestion.

"I'm worried about you, Garreth."

He sinks into the chair in Professor Weasley's office. He's been here so many times now it practically feels like a second home, mostly for, ahem, disciplinary reasons, but there are the rare moments when his aunt calls him in for a quick catch-up, tea and biscuits, sometimes to discuss family news – a great grand-uncle dying or one of his cousins announcing a betrothal.

When the professor called him in this time, two days into the term, he thought maybe his parents were expanding their gnome collection and she wanted him to advise against it (there is such a thing as too many gnomes, and it's any number more than zero). Or maybe his sister Clara needed help adjusting to the school – she's a first year now, after all.

So it's like the rug is yanked from under him when she asks about his grades.

"It's two days into the autumn term, Auntie," he says, not prepared to have this conversation so soon. "What's there to worry about? I haven't even had all my N.E.W.T. classes yet."

"That's exactly what I wanted to discuss with you. You have so much potential, Garreth. You are incredibly bright and passionate, and I know you are capable of so much, but your O.W.L. scores left a lot to be desired, and I worry that you won't be able to handle the workload this year."

"Don't know if you remember," he says airily, "but I practically saved Hogwarts—"

"Yes, yes, last year in the caverns below with your friends, I know, Garreth. I was there." Her lips bunch. "But no school-saving antics will boost your grades. Your heroics are the only reason you don't have to repeat your O.W.L.s, and you won't have such an opportunity this time around."

He drops his head on the back of the chair, groaning. Imagine stopping a whole goblin rebellion... and still having to write history essays. He literally made history.

"Your father suggested something I actually like," she says, drawing Garreth's eyes back down. "It seems you need some motivation, and I know you work well when you're with your friends. Therefore he suggested you pair with someone. A mutual tutorship, if you will."

"You want to give me a study buddy?"

"Yes! Oh, I do like that phrasing much better."

"You can phrase it any way you want. Still wipes."

"Garreth..."

"Come off it, Auntie. What are they gonna' do? Sit with me doing every piece of homework I have? And I didn't flop at everything. I got an Outstanding in Potions and Defence Against the Dark Arts."

"Which were your only top grades, half of which because Hecat saw fit to reward your capabilities against Ranrok last summer," she remarks shortly, taking a piece of parchment. "You don't need a study buddy for those subjects. You do, however, need one for History of Magic, Astronomy, Divination and," she stares meaningfully over the rim of her spectacles, "Transfiguration."

He grins sheepishly. "As it happens, I know someone who's great at it?"

She sighs, putting the parchment aside and dropping into her chair. "I know you want to become a potioneer, Garreth, but even the most famous potioneers are well-rounded individuals and excelled in subjects outside of their specialty. Look at Professor Sharp! He was an Auror!"

"Okay, I get it, I get it." All this talk depresses him – all this knowing that he's a problem depresses him. "I promise I did try. I just— find revising very hard and demotivating. And you know, the whole saving-the-world thing..."

Professor Weasley gives him the look.

"I made it to N.E.W.T. classes, didn't I? I'll try this year, I will. You don't have to get me a... study buddy."

"Oh, but I think I do, and as it were, I happen to know the perfect student to match with you. A very bright young lady one year your junior, a Ravenclaw. She excels in all her subjects" – she pauses – "except Potions."

"So you want me to teach her Potions," he clarifies, "and her to teach me everything else?"

"That's right."

"Doesn't seem fair."

"I think you'll find it will be." She makes a knowing face that he doesn't like. "So, what do you say? Want to give it a try?"

"... Can I say no?"

"No."

He sighs. "Brilliant."

His schedule's already packed with classes and homework, now that his education's ramped up for sixth year, and he mulls on the extra work a mutual tutorship will bring for the next few days. Explaining it is even more difficult, when he has to tell Leander he's missing Quidditch for this.

"A study buddy?" he scoffs, as they lounge in the Gryffindor common room after classes that day. "Sounds right horrid."

"Tell me about it."

"Who're you pairing with? Do you know?"

"No idea. A Ravenclaw in the year below, apparently."

"A younger swot? Merlin's pelvis, couldn't she have put you with, I don't know, Amit? Or Everett? If she wanted a Ravenclaw?"

Garreth slouches. The sofas are so comfortable he doesn't want to move. "Bet she knew if she put me with either of them we'd get no work done, Everett because he'd be too busy trying to prank me, Amit because he'd be wasting time describing irrelevant extra stuff."

"Oh, no," Leander panics suddenly, "if this works then she might start doing it to all of us. I don't want a study buddy!"

"Relax. It's only because I'm her nephew that she's testing it with me."

He's sure his aunt wouldn't care quite so much if the same blood didn't run through their veins. After all, she has no children of her own – so Garreth and his sister are the closest she'll get. All her motherly affection, and motherly reprimand too, goes to them.

So when he gets the owl on Sunday afternoon to meet promptly in the library during lunch the next day, he sucks in his gut and resolves to at least try and have fun with it. He likes meeting new people, even if he doesn't like the circumstances – maybe he'll get along with the new Ravenclaw. Maybe they won't be as boring as he suspects.

He heads to the library the next day – late, mind, because he didn't particularly feel like rushing from Charms – and spots Professor Weasley waiting by the front desk.

That's the first time he sets his eyes on you.

Waiting placidly at his aunt's side, you're perfectly put together, not a hair out of place. Your waistcoat is straight, your long skirt starched, your shirt tucked in and top button done. You hold your books in your hand – because of course you do – and the satchel draped over your shoulder bulges with more of them.

You're the picture of a prim Ravenclaw student.

And it fills him with misery.

"Hello, hello," he says to you both, "sorry I'm late." Not.

You purse your lips, like you can detect his lie, but say nothing as his aunt gives him an admonishing glare. "That you are, Garreth. Did I not say you were to be prompt?"

"I grabbed some extra parchment, Professor," he makes sure to use her epithet in the presence of other students, "because I didn't know if I would need it."

By the way her brow loosens, it was a good lie. "All right. Come along, I've reserved a table for you both."

He decides to introduce himself to you on the way upstairs. "Nice to meet you."

You introduce yourself as well, but it's clear by your aloof eyes that you were also roped into this arrangement. "Nice to meet you as well," you repeat awkwardly, voice high with tension.

Turns out, Professor Weasley reserved an entire table, right at the back of the top floor. It seems unnecessary, the isolation, how you've obviously been coerced.

"Now, your proper sessions will take place after classes finish for the day, so for now I believe getting to know one another's style of learning would be most prudent." Professor Weasley ushers you to two seats next to each other. "I'll be sitting over there to keep an eye on you. Madam Scribner has given you both permission to have a quiet chat, so why not break the ice?"

It feels so forced Garreth would prefer to get a Howler right now, but under his aunt's stringent gaze, he plops onto the chair and tosses his bag under the seat. You draw out the seat gracefully, fold yourself upon it, and gently place your satchel, then books, on the table. There is method, he realises, to your movements.

"So..." he claps his hand awkwardly. "Where are you from?"

You clam up immediately, and he doesn't know why that's the wrong thing to ask, but he backtracks.

"Sorry, I mean – you know, where do you live?"

Your frown is still pronounced, but some relief breaths free. "London. You?"

"Devon."

"Right. I've never been there."

"It's nice. Except in the winter. Then the sea air is like murder."

Silence. He has a feeling he'll have to nudge all conversations, which is simply brilliant.

"Have any family?"

"Just my parents. They— they used to live in Asia, before coming here." You shift. "You? I mean, besides the professor."

"How much time do you have?" When you don't answer, he tugs his collar. Tough crowd. "Er, I have a younger sister. Clara, she's called. She's just started her first year. Little menace. Was hoping she wouldn't be Sorted into Gryffindor, but I guess it runs in the Weasley blood. Then there's my cousins, but there's so many that if I named them all you'd miss all your afternoon classes. Hey, maybe that wouldn't be a bad thing?"

You don't even crack a smile. This will be a long, painful conversation.

"Why don't we get started then?" he suggests instead, because the faster he does this, the faster he can leave. "I mean, discussing what we're meant to be, er, learning together? Shouldn't take very long for you if you're only failing Potions."

Your cheeks bloat. "I'm not failing. I just... need a little boost."

Touchy. Okay.

"Well, I'm not afraid to admit I'm failing."

"Yes," you say, and you list on your fingers as you go. "Transfiguration, History of Magic, Divination, and Astronomy. That's four subjects."

"Hey, last year it was five, but luckily I managed to wrangle a Kneazle before it bit Professor Howin, so she bumped up my grade." He's still quite proud of that moment. You make an unimpressed face. "What? You should be grateful we don't have collect Flobberworm mucus together."

"Okay, well, I've prepared you some tasks to complete."

His amusement drains like pus from a Bubotuber.

"What."

It's a statement of disbelief so sheer he doesn't even accompany it with the tonal flick of a question.

He stares at them, open-mouthed.

"You've set me homework?"

"It's not homework."

"It's work that I have to do in my own time. It's homework."

Your lip curls in displeasure. "Like I said, if I'm going to tutor you, I need to know how much you already know. Then I can incorporate it into my lesson plan."

"Your lesson plan?"

"How else are we going to know what to cover per session?" you ask, bewildered. "You must have something planned for me, right?"

Of course he doesn't. He was just going to give you potions to brew and point out where you'd gone wrong. He rakes a hand through his hair, thinking about whether he could get away pretending to have a stomach/ head/ knee/ butt ache.

"If you don't want to do it later," you say, "you can do it now. Then I can be prepared for our first official session."

How about I run and never look back? With his aunt's watchful gaze on his back, he reluctantly unfurls the first scroll. Transfiguration. You hand him a quill and inkwell and he surfs through, ticking the answers he thinks are right.

"You're not even reading the questions."

"Am too."

"Glancing your eyes over words isn't the same as reading."

Oh, Merlin, you will be the death of him. Sniffing indignantly, he slows down, actually taking time to read the questions. How many exceptions are there to Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration? He tries the rest, though not very hard, because just reading this stupid parchment has left him perplexed, and hands the scroll to you when he finishes.

He's halfway through puzzling when Geminis are born for the Divination quiz – he guesses February – before you roll his parchment up again.

"So? What's the verdict?"

You can't control the grimace on your face, and it's all he needs to know.

He's a total shambles. A failure.

"It's not— unsalvageable," you say hastily, your expression flattening. "But we have a lot of work to do."

He drops his head onto the table so loudly Madam Scribner yells "SSSHHH!" from the floor below.

When he's completed all your scrolls and falsely promises to make a list of things for your Potions O.W.L.s, you collect your belongings, slotting each book and scroll into its rightful place in your bag, give a quick word to his aunt in thanks and leave without goodbye. The whole exchange was about twenty minutes but to Garreth felt like twenty years. He tromps up to Professor Weasley in utter disbelief – and despairs in the way her grin unfurls.

"I told you it would be a fair exchange."

"She's made me homework, Auntie!"

"SSSHHH!" Scribner yells.

"Sorry!" he squeaks over the bannister. "Homework, Auntie. And— lesson plans. She told me I was practically unsalvageable!"

"I definitely heard not unsalvageable, Garreth."

"You can't be serious with this girl."

But Professor Weasley simply pets his shoulder.

"Your future is at stake here, Garreth. It's about time you start taking it seriously. She will help you. You will help each other."

But he really doubts it.

He waits for you outside of the Ravenclaw common room entrance for your first session later that week.

Dread roils through him as he leans against the bannister. Two hours of this, thrice a week, when he could be doing literally anything else. Quidditch has started again – which his aunt has barred him from playing due to his grades – but he could at least watch the Gryffindors practice, watch Leander and Eric Northcott toss Quaffles between them.

He's never had a mind for anything that doesn't interest him. History, divining the stars – both approaches. Even turning butterflies into bells doesn't capture his attention the same way potions do. There's just something about the way you can play loose and fast with the rules, with the ingredients, with the measurements, with the method, that delights his curiosity.

He wiggles his arm so it doesn't go to sleep. He's been to the Ravenclaw common room a few times, usually with Amit – for when they need to get back at Everett for catching them with a dungbomb. Unfortunately it means he's well acquainted with the eagle knocker.

"Honestly, Mr Weasley," it enunciates with that high and mighty tone, "if you sulk any harder and your expression will stick permanently to your face."

"Know from experience, do you?"

It doesn't bother to grace that with a response.

"What quandary plagues you so?"

"I'm doing a study buddy programme."

The knocker toots – literally, like a trumpet. "Hundreds of years I have guarded this tower, and never have I heard something so funny!"

"You could be more sympathetic."

"For the boy who thought it would be funny to tickle my nose with a feather when I was asleep? I think not!"

"I didn't think you had a nose!"

The door swings open then, and you step out. Prim, proper, picturesque. You startle at the sight of him.

"I thought we were to meet in the library."

"I was passing by, thought I'd come up and walk with you."

Suspicion flutters through your eyes. "Why?"

"What do you mean, why?"

"Why would you want to walk with me?"

He blinks. Is he being stupid, or has he missed something? "Er, because it's a nice thing to do, and if I have to waste six hours of my life on this mutual tutorship every week then I should at least get to know you better."

"I see."

Something not quite as strong as displeasure edges your voice, but you fall into step with him – not missing the way he makes a rude face at the knocker on the way downstairs.

"Look, I'll be honest," he begins, "I don't like this arrangement any more than you do, but I'm naturally pre-disposed to not taking anything too seriously, so even if we have to endure revision together, we can at least try to have a good time with it. Sound fair?"

You don't answer immediately. "What's the catch?"

"What? No catch. I just don't want to be totally glum each time I see you."

Something flashes across your expression, but it's too fleeting to identify it. "All right, that's... understandable."

"Great."

Conversation is stilted, however, even when you get to the library. You don't immediately warm to him, which is odd, because he's very used to people immediately falling for his magnanimous charms. You pull out your notebook – a timetable neatly journaled into the opening page – as he dumps out his parchment and quills.

"Since our sessions cover six hours per week," you say, "I thought we could work on your subjects for four of them, and then two hours on Potions for me."

"Right, fine." Sounds positively wretched. "My aunt's got Sharp's permission to use the potions laboratory this Friday, so I guess we can do it then."

"The potions laboratory?"

"Yeah. What? Did you think we could do Potions work without... potions?"

"Shouldn't we focus on the written portion?"

He frowns. "The written portion of the Potions O.W.L. is tiny. Like, miniscule. And boring."

You draw yourself up. "I don't find it boring. The essays are the best part."

Oh dear Merlin. "Well, sorry to disappoint you, but the majority of your Potions O.W.L. depends on actual potion-making." He grins. "Why? Scared, are you?"

"Why would I be scared?"

"You seem keen not to do it. Don't tell me you have some tragic backstory involving an exploding cauldron."

"No," you grind out. "I just... don't have a natural affinity for it like I do all my other subjects."

"That must've been really hard for you to accept."

He's teasing, but your face sours. Wow, you really are a tough crowd.

"Let's start. History of Magic."

This is one of those subjects he needs to know for his career choice – potioneers are expected to understand the history behind advancements in potion-making, after all – but Professor Binns makes it near-impossible to derive any sort of interest in the subject. The first topic of the year, the disbandment of the Wizards' Council in 1707, is already so dull Garreth can feel himself melting into the floor the moment the ghost opens his mouth.

"Now, I've already started the essay about the tumult of the Ministry of Magic's early years." You pull out a roll of parchment. "If we compare the key argument points—"

"Wait," he says, holding up his hand, "what do you mean, you've started the essay?"

"The essay that Binns set."

"You're doing N.E.W.T. level classes?"

"I'm doing N.E.W.T. level homework," you correct. "The professors assign it to me and I work on it with my regular homework."

"How do you have time to eat? Or sleep?"

You shrug. It's all so easy to you. You probably dream of your textbooks. It's so boggling.

"As I was saying," you continue, "we ought to start by comparing the points we've both made for the essay."

He just can't fathom it. Is there any point getting to know you when your spare time is dedicated to nothing but grades and studying? How can anyone be so academically good at (almost) everything, take on extra work, agree to tutor a frankly hopeless student... and still find time to enjoy other things?

"Right, yes, comparing essay points," he mumbles. "Sounds good."

Then again, he thinks, when neither of you move, and your eyes begin to narrow, you don't seem like the type of person to enjoy anything.

"You haven't started the essay yet, have you?"

"... Does a sphinx speak in riddles?"

You groan.

The first Potions session that Friday is a fun one – because now he gets to test you, watch you squirm and sweat. After the painful four hours together, scribbling theory for Divination and star charts for Astronomy, it's finally time to show what he can do. You're always so put together, so he wants to see how bad you are, see what it is that justifies asking for his help in the first place.

Professor Sharp is waiting in the potions laboratory when you both arrive, seated at his desk marking homework.

Garreth grins. "All right, Professor?"

His expression curdles exponentially. "I trust I don't have to keep one eye on you for the entire two hours, Mr Weasley?"

"'Course not, sir. I'm only here to supervise my charge. In fact, you could say I'm the professor here."

"That doesn't fill me with much more confidence," Sharp mutters, then flicks his quill. "I've prepared the one on the left. Work quietly, please."

You seem nonplussed when Garreth steers you to the potions station. "Do you have a... reputation?"

"Don't know what you mean."

"You must do, by the professor's tone. You're a— miscreant."

"I'm a creative," he corrects. "Professor Sharp just doesn't appreciate my artistry."

"I can hear you, Mr Weasley."

"See? No appreciation whatsoever."

He gave you a list of ingredients to bring, and as he lights the fire beneath the cauldron, you sort them on the table – a bezoar in a mortar, mistletoe berries tied together with twine, Mooncalf tears in a phial. He notices you spend an inordinate amount of time placing them in neat, agreeable piles, rather than, you know, starting the actual potion-making, and he tucks this information away.

"Right, so, today I thought you could brew the antidote to common poisons."

"Antidote," you say stiffly. "Common poisons."

"That's what I said."

"Isn't that a third year subject?"

"It is." He smiles devilishly. "But we're going to do it with a twist."

Your brow furrows. "You're supposed to teach me relevant things, Garreth."

"You'll be lucky I'm not adding my own spin on it. No, just a simple improvement to up the ante. We're going make sure our potion can also act as an antidote to spider venom."

"Spider venom?" Your hand reaches for the textbook, but Garreth palms it away. "But— I need the recipe."

"You won't get the full recipe in your O.W.L. exams. You only get a list of ingredients and vague instructions. But it's better to learn by doing, and you will be expected to understand how the property of each ingredient affects the potion." He gestures. "Shall we begin?"

Your lips are flat as you fill the cauldron with standard potioning water – two pints of it, until it bubbles nicely over the flames. You know the first step by heart, which is to crush the bezoar into a fine powder and add four measures. Good start. With each of his thorough explanations, you fidget, uncomfortable.

"Why not just feed someone a bezoar? It works, doesn't it?"

"Why do we extract essence of dittany instead of just nibbling on the stem? Because combined with other ingredients the potion is more powerful. A bezoar wouldn't work against more virulent spider venom on its own, but it will in the potion we're brewing, because its healing properties are enhanced. Also, have you tried shoving that whole thing in your gob? Tastes rank."

"Wait," you say suddenly. "I need to write this down."

"The tastes rank part, or shoving in your gob part?"

You ignore him, grabbing your quill and scribbling furiously.

"Watch your cauldron. It's bubbling over."

You squeak, dropping the quill and stirring. A sheen of sweat coats your forehead, which is pretty hilarious. You've only just started.

"What's the next step?" he asks.

Your eyes skim the ingredients, frantic. "Erm... Mooncalf tears?"

"Try again." When you grimace, he says, "Begins with Stuh. Ends with andard ingredient."

You glare at him. "This doesn't make sense. Why add that now?"

"It's a stabilising agent. It emulsifies the ingredients together."

"Like eggs in a cake," you murmur, which surprises him. "But we've only added the bezoar to the water. What's there to stabilise?"

"Bezoars don't dissolve in water, and this will help the ingredients we add next."

He can see your frustration. Suddenly it makes sense why you hate Potions so much. You don't understand the science behind it – ironic, for someone who seems so methodical, and so proficient at other more technical subjects like Transfiguration. You pour the herbs into the brew, watching cautiously as the liquid thickens and changes colour from grimy brown to forest green, and notes of saltiness waft into the air.

"Good." The potion isn't looking too bad – maybe a little too green, but not unworkable. "Now, what next?"

"... Mooncalf tears?"

"Nope. You need to desaturate the brew."

"So turn up the heat?" He gives a firm nod. "For how long?"

"Well, you've added standard ingredient, which acts as a thickening agent already, and bezoar powder burns easily, even in water. Do you think much heat should be applied?"

"... Maybe?"

"Bet your examiner would love that answer."

You scowl. "Just tell me."

"Bring it to simmer," he instructs. "But only for a few minutes. For the aforementioned reasons."

After you write this down, you nudge another piece of wood into the fire pit below, then adjust the knob for heat. After a few moments, the bubbles pop ferociously on the surface. He watches you watching it, transfixed, eyebrows sloping in intense concentration. It's clear you desperately want this to work – but something holds you back, whether it's just disinterest in the subject or not. You lower the heat after three minutes, leaning back.

"Now do we add the Mooncalf tears?"

He laughs. "Merlin's beard, you're desperate to get those tears in. No, now you wave your wand and let it stew. Do you know for how long?"

"I remember this," you say. "It was about thirty minutes."

"Are you sure?"

"Well now I'm not."

His grin only grows. "What type of cauldron are you using?"

"Pewter."

"How will that affect the time?"

"Isn't pewter less conducive of magical properties than the others, and therefore makes brewing time slower?"

"I don't know. Is it?"

"Garreth."

"Yes, you're right," he says. "You're a right laugh, you know."

"You're not," you remark tersely. "So it stews for more time then?"

"Probably about forty-five minutes, though I reckon with how you bunged all the standard ingredient in, it'll probably need a few minutes more. We'll eyeball it."

You squeak. "We can't— eyeball it!"

"'Course we can. When it's reduced enough, we'll take it off the heat."

Still, it's about a fifty-minute wait, and unfortunately you decide to get him back for all the fun he's having by asking how his History of Magic essay is going (... it's not). Even Professor Sharp laughs when he stumps at the first bullet point.

When the fifty minutes slog by (and they do slog – probably because Garreth dies a little with each legislative policy he has to know by name), you check the potion again. The water has boiled down to a gooey liquid, half the size it was before, and the colour has deepened.

"Now you have ground unicorn horn to add. This is where it gets interesting." His voice dances with glee, but you look like you'd rather get punched in the face. "The recipe for the regular antidote calls for a pinch of unicorn horn, then two clockwise stirs. But to work against a more potent poison like spider venom, you need at least two pinches, and double the number of stirs, to let everything combine."

You hunch over your unicorn horn powder. "Are you sure this isn't one of your creative exploits?"

"Hand on heart, this is all by-the-book," he says, then calls out, "In fact, I should really get some house points for it!"

"Don't hold your breath," Sharp calls back.

Garreth winks at you. "Worth a try, right?"

Your brow drops in exasperation.

Still, you follow his next instructions carefully. Two pinches of unicorn horn powder, then four stirs of the cauldron, and it hisses and pops as the powder melts into the solution. Finally you add two mistletoe berries, careful to keep the toxic leaves away, and wave your wand to finish. It's as expected – not bad for someone who claims to struggle at the subject, though he had to coach you through most of it.

"So... how do we know if the potion works?"

"Funny you should ask." Garreth reaches for his bag. "I have a spider I keep in a jar—"

You scrabble away at once. "What?" you shriek – it's the first explosive emotion he's seen from you. "No, no, no—"

"Merlin, that was a joke! 'Course I don't have a spider in my bag!"

Your shoulders drop. Your expression storms.

"Not. Funny."

But he giggles. "Come on. That was kind of funny."

"You really are a miscreant."

"Not a fan of spiders, are you?"

"They're detestable." You shudder, crossing your arms. "I don't know how anyone can stand the creatures."

"I think they're kind of cute. You know, in an ugly sort of way."

You step back to the station, gesturing with your chin to the potion again. "So? How do you know if we succeeded?"

"Colour, consistency, smell. Is it teal? Yes. Is it thick, and the bottom of the cauldron is only visible when you scrape it with a spoon? Yes. Does it smell like Graphorn dung?" He sniffs. Winces. "Oh yeah."

"How do you know what Graphorn dung smells like?"

"You don't want to know." (It involved Everett, naturally.) "So, with all those factors, we can safely say the potion was a resounding success. Huzzah!"

Yet you don't seem particularly pleased. He's not sure why, given that his aunt implied you were so poor at the subject even a mediocre brew was unthinkable. But maybe your bar to success is much higher than his. He helped you a lot, after all – maybe you'll only consider these tutoring sessions a win if you manage to brew an entire potion by yourself, without his ogling over your shoulder. Without someone literally telling you what to do.

And if that's what you want, okay. He's happy to help. The quicker you pick up these potions lessons, the quicker he is freed of your prickly company.

"Wait," you say suddenly, "what were the Mooncalf tears for?"

"Oh, those?" He chuckles. "They're not for anything. They're just to bamboozle you."

Your glare is potent enough to set him on fire.

"I am trying to learn here, and you fooling around is not helping."

"Who says this isn't helping? You'll never forget Mooncalf tears aren't in the antidote now, will you?"

"But— that's—!" You let out a groan. "You're being insufferable."

He just laughs harder. "You're so prim, it's hilarious."

"If wanting to learn things the proper way makes me prim, so be it."

"The proper way? Oh ho ho, no. There's no proper way."

"Written study is the proper way."

He leans on the potions station, grinning villainously. "Then I'll prove to you that it's not all about textbooks and words on a page. You're going to learn so hard you won't know what hit you. You'll see."

Your raise your chin, derision clear.

"Very well then, Garreth."

"All righty then, Prim."

He sees how it digs. "What? Don't— don't call me that!"

"Only calling you what you are, Prim."

When the session ends, he agrees to start that essay – or at least think about starting it – and you agree to review your notes for the antidote, but no matter how many times you remind him of your real name, he teases you with the moniker until you part ways. Unfortunately for you, insufferable doesn't quite have the same ring to it, and you wouldn't dare deign to his level of immaturity.

So at the end of the first week, you still call him Garreth.

And he calls you Prim.

[Next chapter coming soon] <3 [Divider credit, gorgeous art by Lyworth]

#hogwarts legacy #garreth weasley #garreth weasley x mc #garreth weasley x reader #hogwarts legacy mc #hogwarts legacy fanfic #prim #stay with me #acvasverse #my writing #my stuff

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darkeralmond · 1 year ago

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Luca smut… that’s the request, you pick the plot lmao

TYSM FOR THE REQUEST!! i am so obsessed with never have i ever so i just had to do this scene

Study Session

Luca Fantilli x fem! Reader

song: company - justin bieber

synopsis: y/n is luca’s tutor, and you’ve not been showing up to the past couple tutoring sessions. you and luca get in a huge argument and now you guys aren’t talking. he then crawls into your window and things get crazy

warnings: 18+, smut, p in v, she/her pronouns, luca calling u “good girl”, high school au!

word count: 1.6k

a/n: this is based off that one scene with paxton and devi from never have i ever when he crawls into her window and kisses her. literally my favorite scene ever. i’m in love with him and luca. ALSO THE EDITS TO COMPANY WITH LUCA LIVE IN MY HEAD RENT FREE

masterlist | request info

For the past couple days, Luca has been mad at you. The thing about Luca is that he was all beauty, no brains. He relied on his hockey abilities to score himself into college. He broke his arm while playing in a game which left him with a season ending injury.

Now he relied on your tutoring to help him get the grades for college. Even then, he couldn’t seem to pay attention when it came to that kind of stuff.

When Luca came up to confront you about you flaking on your guys’ tutoring sessions, it broke out into a huge public argument in the hall. In the heat of the moment, you screamed at him which you regretted deeply.

“Maybe, you should start studying on your own,” you yelled. “If you wanna be a good student, then be a good student! I can't hold your hand forever!” Like that, you stormed away. That single statement ruined that entire relationship you built up with him.

It looked like he took your advice however. He started getting A’s on his projects all without your help. You felt happy to watch him succeed independently, but it made you feel uncomfortable to know that maybe he never needed you after all.

You were laying on your bed while listening to music. You felt your phone buzz against your stomach which startled you. You had your phone on ‘do not disturb’ mode since you wanted some alone time without any distractions. You checked the notification and saw it was Luca texting you. You furrowed your eyebrows and read the text.

Luca

Wyd

Nothing

Luca

Can u let me in?

There was then a knock at your window. Your breath got caught in your throat as you shot your head up. You saw Luca outside your window while the rain poured down on him. You quickly threw your phone to the side along with your headphones and got out of your bed.

You rushed over to the window and unlocked it. “Luca?” you whispered. “You’re in my house?”

“Yeah,” Luca said as he looked around your bedroom. “I guess so.” He looked back at you with a smile on his face. His hair was soaking wet, his clothes were drenched, and he was in your bedroom. You blinked a couple times as silence filled the air around you two. “Look, I just wanted to thank you for pushing me to be a better student. It felt good to finally do something well in school.”

He had never been hotter. He shot you a look with his bedroom eyes, your heart pounding in your chest as you tried to wrap your head around everything currently happening. “So…” you started, “Are you here to study or…?”

That was a great question, why was he here to begin with? Was he here to study for an exam? Was he here to apologize for the argument? Was he here… for you?

He simply shook his head and muttered, “No.” You continued staring at him as he stepped closer to you. He brought his hand up to the side of your face and tucked some strands of hair behind your ear.

His touch made your body tense due to the shock. He glanced down at your lips before meeting your eyes once again. He closed the space between the two of you and kissed you.

You kissed back, your eyes fluttering close as you placed your hands on his chest. Your heart pounded faster than usual as his tongue brushed against yours. Your body was humming. You melted in his embrace and let your fingers trace patterns into his wet shirt.

This was the best feeling you ever experienced in your life. Every fiber of your body was telling you to stay right there, kissing him. You figured he was here to just study or anything else, just not this.

You pulled away and looked into his eyes. “Y/N,” he husked. Your eyebrows raised as you anticipated what he would say next. “I need you.” He needed you? This stunned you even more. “Can I please treat you like you’re mine tonight?”

The way he said those words sent a thrill through you and ignited a fire inside of you. Without saying a word, you nodded your head as you stepped back toward your bed. You sat down on the mattress and looked up at him. The dim lighting created shadows across his face which made him look angelic.

With a smirk on his face, he sat next to you on the bed and pulled you close. He wrapped his arms tightly around your waist and peppered kisses on your neck.

His hands trailed from your hips to up underneath your shirt. A small gasp escaped your lips as his cold hands came into contact with your warm skin. His mouth returned to yours, his hands cupping your breasts that were still covered by your bra.

You let a small moan slip as the kiss went on and on, deepening. It almost hurt how much you craved his touch and how badly you wanted him. The only reason he didn’t get a reaction out of you is because you were trying to keep calm, but it seemed he could sense your desire and knew what he was doing to you.

You tugged off your shirt and tossed it to the floor. Luca leaned back a bit and gazed at your body. The moonlight hits your skin perfectly making it shine and glisten. He ran his thumb along the curve of your waist, his fingertips grazing across your hip bone.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he whispered as he threw off his own shirt. All of this was happening while your parents were downstairs. You felt nervous that they could hear you right now, or that they would hear you soon.

You turned your body to face him. He stared back with hooded eyes. The moonlight illuminated his handsome features in an ethereal light. Your breathing quickened with every passing second.

He teased at the strap of your shorts which was his signal for you to take them off. You did exactly that and revealed your matching pair of panties.

Luca groaned as his colored eyes examined your exposed body. You both stopped moving as he stared up at you. “Are you on the pill?” he asked softly.

Holy shit. He wanted to actually have sex with you. It was such an abrupt realization. It took you a minute to process. “Of course, I am,” you replied with a sigh.

He nodded his head, his eyes trailing down your body. “Okay, good.” He looked back into your eyes before messing with the buckle of his belt. “Take them off,” he said as he shot a glance down at your panties.

You slowly slid them off just like he said to. He nodded his head with a smirk spread on his face. “Good girl,” he rasped. “Now lay down.”

He got up from his spot on the bed which left you more room to lay. Once you settled down, he stood in front of you with a mischievous grin. He took off his boxers revealing his large erection. “Fuck,” you muttered as your eyes widened.

He ignored your comment and grabbed your waist. He pulled you closer to him before aligning himself with your entrance. You looked up at the ceiling, your breaths shallow and quick.

You felt nervous. What if you ended up getting pregnant? What if you sounded weird when you moaned? What if you got caught? Your thoughts were interrupted by him inserting himself inside of you.

Your breath hitched as your back slightly arched. His movements were gentle. He pulled out of you a little before thrusting back in with one powerful motion. Your back arched again, but you relaxed as you realized what it was like. He began to move in and out of you at a steady pace, filling you completely. You felt so full and comfortable, it felt amazing.

You closed your eyes and breathed deeply as you allowed him to take care of you, to take care of you for once. Quiet moans slipped from your parted lips as he thrusted into you.

He was slow and gentle, obviously treating you like you were delicate. You could even hear him groan out of pleasure. You bit your bottom lip as you looked up at him. His eyes met yours, both of you were panting. It felt good. You weren’t complaining, in fact, you loved it.

Luca began to speed up his movement as you both came together. He moaned as he held you tighter. “Fuck, Y/N. I’m gonna cum,” he groaned as he kept a steady pace.

He pumped in time with his thrusts. As he climaxed, you moaned as you came too. Once you finished, you laid there as he pulled out. You heard a loud noise coming from downstairs as you both tried to catch your breath after that unraveled in under one hour.

“Uh,” you said as you sprung up. “You need to leave, now!” You then heard your mom yelled out your name from downstairs. “Uh, coming!” you shouted back as you got up. You threw on your pajamas as Luca threw on his clothes.

“That was fun,” he smirked. “I should come over for more than just study sessions.”

You would’ve been flustered by that comment, but you were too worried about not getting caught. “Yeah, yeah! Go!” You threw your shirt on and watched as he threw on his own.

He winked as he hopped out of your window and looked back. “One more kiss?” he asked.

You sighed, “Yeah.” You placed a long, lingering kiss on his lips before pulling away. “Now leave!”

He chuckled, “I’ll see you tomorrow.” You smiled softly as you shut the window and quickly rushed out of your room. You just had sex with Luca Fantilli. Holy, shit. He did need you!

#luca fantilli #luca fantilli x reader #umich hockey #smut fanfiction #luca fantilli smut #luca fantilli x y/n

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