#so dramatic as if shes about to propose | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

areislol · 8 months ago

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‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎"WANT A (HERSHEY) KISS?" — with JJK men

pairings. satoru gojo, suguru geto, choso, yuji itadori, megumi fushiguro, kento nanami, ryomen sukuna, yuta okkotsu x gn! reader

warnings. all sweet mushy stuff, fluff, can be seen as an established relationship or mutual crushing. geto is written to be taller than you (sorry to all my tall ladies), sukuna calls reader "human" (his weird little pet name.), characters might be ooc.

a/n. i overheard my friend ask my best friend if she wanted a kiss and i immediately thought about this hershy kiss idea.

‎ ‎‎ ��‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎synopsis. asking the jjk men if they want a kiss, but not that kind of kiss.

wordcount. 3.4k

— satoru gojo

gojo straightens up, his posture suddenly becoming theatrically grand. he places a hand dramatically over his heart, his eyes wide with mock seriousness as he gazes deeply into yours.

“oh, you have no idea what you’ve just unleashed,” he declares, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “i’m more than ready for your kiss!”

with a flourish, he takes a step back. he raises his other hand to his forehead as if swooning, his usual confident smirk replaced by an exaggerated look of faux vulnerability.

“oh, how could i have known today would be the day? the day my heart would finally be captured by an unexpected proposal!”

he lowers himself slightly as if preparing for the grand finale of some romantic play, his eyes never leaving yours.

you quirked an eyebrow, confused by your gojo's reaction. he takes a deep breath, his expression shifting to one of resolute determination. "what—"

“i accept your kiss with all the fervour of a thousand lifetimes!” he exclaims, his voice rising to a dramatic crescendo.

before you can react, he swoops in closer, closing his eyes as if truly expecting a romantic kiss. his lips are slightly puckered, and he holds the pose for a moment, the room filled with anticipation of his over-the-top performance.

"....what are you doing..." is all you manage to say while staring at gojo like he was a madman. at your words, he lets out a faint "huh" before peeking with one eyes open. you cocked your head to the side, reaching your palm out with a... hershey's kiss?

gojo's eyes travel between your face and the chocolate treat on your palm. both his eyes open as he resumes his old posture. "what's that?" he asks, confused. where was his kiss?

you nudge him with your hand, "take it, it's the kiss." you responded. there was a pregnant pause as gojo felt his soul being crushed and crumbling away.

he pouts as he usually does when things don't go his way. "so i won't be getting the kiss?" his expression shifts to one of exaggerated disappointment.

“you won't be getting any kiss other than the chocolate kiss in the palm of my hands! if you don't want it then just say it, i'll give it to someone else.”

gojo immediately felt a stab to his heart at your words. "so... no kiss..?" he asked once more, pushing his luck a bit too much. you turned around, beginning to walk over to maki.

"wait wait wait! no— wait! i'll take the kiss, come back! i thought we had something special!!"

safe to say gojo chased you around the courtyard wanting that kiss so badly. (p.s. he never got it)

— suguru geto

he looks up from his tea, his eyebrows raising slightly in mild surprise. his calm demeanour doesn’t waver, but you can see a spark of curiosity in his eyes.

“a kiss?” he repeats, setting down his cup with a gentle clink. “well, that’s unexpected.”

his eyes scan your face, you approached him with a playful smile, unbeknownst to him, holding a small hershey’s kiss hidden in your hand.

his response is measured, his tone light yet sincere. there’s a slight tilt of his head as he considers your offer, a small, enigmatic smile playing on his lips. his curiosity is clearly piqued.

“are you sure you want to do this right now?” he asks softly, his voice carrying a hint of amusement.

you can see the gears turning in his mind. he stands up gracefully, his tall frame now towering over you slightly. his presence is both calming and commanding, and he steps closer, his gaze never leaving yours.

“if you’re offering, who am i to refuse?” he says, his voice soft and gentle, yet with a hint of playfulness.

as he leans in, his eyes close slightly, and his movements are slow and deliberate. his face is inches from yours, his lips poised as if expecting a tender kiss on the cheek or lips.

his breath is warm against your skin, just as his lips are about to meet yours, you can’t hold it in any longer. you burst out laughing, the sound breaking the tension. geto’s eyes snap open, and he pulls back slightly, a look of mild confusion and surprise on his face.

“wait, suguru,” you manage to say between giggles, holding up the small, foil-wrapped hershey’s kiss. “i meant hershey’s kiss!”

geto blinks, taking in the sight of the tiny chocolate in your hand. for a moment, he’s taken aback, his calmness cracking just enough to show his genuine surprise. then, a slow smile spreads across his face, his eyes crinkling at the corners with amusement.

“oh, i see,” he says, chuckling softly, the sound low and rich. “you got me there.”

his surprise melts into good-natured acceptance as he reaches out to take the hershey’s kiss from your hand, his fingers brushing yours gently.

“i should have known there was a twist,” he says, his tone filled with amusement. he unwraps the chocolate with ease, the foil crinkling softly as he reveals the sweet treat inside.

“well, i can’t say no to chocolate,” he continues, popping the hershey’s kiss into his mouth with a graceful motion. “but i might still want that other kiss later.”

you shake your head, still laughing, "you’re too much, suguru.”

he smiles, his eyes twinkling with amusement, "that’s what makes life interesting,” he replies, his tone affectionate. “you always manage to keep me on my toes.”

geto leans in slightly, his expression turning more playful, a hint of a challenge in his eyes. “but just so you know, i'm expecting a real kiss next time,” he says softly, his voice filled with a gentle warmth that sends a pleasant shiver down your spine. “no more tricks.”

you nod, your smile matching his. “alright.”

— choso

choso’s dark eyes widen slightly, and he looks at you in surprise.

his usually stoic demeanour softened by your unexpected offer. choso blinked in surprise, his dark eyes widening gradually. "a kiss?" he spoke, uncertain of what he had heard. "from you?"

your playful smile widened a fraction as you nodded. "that's if you really want one," you replied.

choso's expression softened ever so slightly, a flicker of happiness crossing his features. he continued to sit down on the chair, his eyes, usually so guarded, were fixed on yours with anticipation.

"well since you asked," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

you nodded again, containing your joy as you held out the small chocolate treat. but choso, his attention solely on you, didn't notice your extended hand.

instead, he leaned in a fraction closer, his breath brushing against your cheek as he waited expectantly.

time seemed to slow, the air thick with anticipation. and then, as he continued to wait, you couldn't hold back any longer. with a gentle chuckle, you revealed the hershey's kiss, holding it between your fingers.

"wait, choso," you said, your voice soft. "i meant a hershey's kiss."

for a fleeting moment, confusion clouded choso's eyes, his brows furrowing slightly as he processed your words. the disappointment that followed was palpable, a subtle shift in his demeanour as he withdrew slightly, his gaze dropping to the chocolate in your hand.

"oh," he murmured quietly, a faint flush colouring his cheeks. "i see. i misunderstood."

regret tinged your amusement now, your heart squeezing at the sight of his crestfallen expression. you held onto whatever you could to stop yourself from apologising (despite it not being your fault in the first place) but his saddened face had a deadly grip on your aching heart.

letting out a soft sigh, you decide to make up for this misunderstanding. "i'll make it up to you," you promised, offering him the hershey's kiss with a gentle smile.

he looks back at you, his eyes searching yours for lord knows what. you step closer, closing the distance between you. “here,” you say softly, holding the hershey’s kiss in one hand and reaching up to gently cup his cheek with the other. “you can have both.”

you lean in and place a tender kiss on his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin under your lips. as you pull back, you see the love in his eyes, the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"how was the kiss?"

"amazing."

— yuji itadori

yuji sat relaxed on the couch, flipping through a magazine with casual interest before you asked him the question.

he looked up from his magazine, his expression momentarily puzzled before a flicker of curiosity crossed his face. "a kiss?" he repeated as his head cocked to the side, intrigued.

"yeah," you continued, your smile widening as you extended the small chocolate towards him. "i thought you might like one."

a hint of confusion lingered on yuji's features as he accepted the chocolate from you. "oh, thanks!" he exclaimed, unwrapping the chocolate with a grin. he popped it into his mouth, savouring the sweetness with an appreciative nod.

however, as he finished the chocolate, his gaze turned back to you with a playful look on his face. "that was good," he remarked casually, a mischievous smile tugging at his lips.

"but you know, i was actually hoping for a different kind of kiss."

you couldn't help but laugh softly at his playful teasing, feeling a warmth spread through you at his easygoing nature. "oh really?" you replied teasingly, pretending to consider his request. "what kind of kiss were you hoping for?"

yuji's grin widened, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "hmm, how about…" he trailed off, leaning in closer with a twinkle in his eye.

before he could finish his sentence, you leaned in swiftly and gently kissed his warm cheek. his skin was soft against your lips, radiating a faint warmth.

yuji blinked in surprise, his hand instinctively touching his cheek where your lips had just been.

"like that?" you asked with a playful smirk, teasing him lightly.

yuji chuckled softly, his cheeks dusted with a faint blush. "yeah," he admitted, his voice softening. "that was nice."

the room fell into a comfortable silence, filled with a newfound ease. yuji glanced at you, a soft smile playing on his lips as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

"thanks for the chocolate, and the kiss," he said sincerely, his eyes meeting yours with a warmth that made your heart skip a beat. you shake your head, "it's fine, i enjoyed the kiss."

yuji immediately brightens up at your words before speaking. "can i get another kiss?" he looks at you with those pleading, puppy eyes. ugh. you let out a soft sigh and nod. "of course, on the cheek or lips?"

"lips please!"

— megumi fushiguro

he pauses. did he hear you correctly? a kiss? why now, as he's training? did you need to distract him after doing something wrong (you had a tendency to do that)? thousands of thoughts whirled around in his head.

"a... a kiss?" he repeated, his voice betraying a hint of confusion and something else—perhaps a flicker of vulnerability.

you nodded, feeling giddy for absolutely no reason. "yeah, a kiss. what do you think?"

for a moment, megumi seemed to be at a loss for words. he glanced around, as if checking to see if anyone else was watching, then looked back at you.

"why are you asking me that?" he said, his voice low and slightly nervous.

you couldn't help but chuckle softly at his reaction. "just answer the question, megumi. do you want one or not?"

his cheeks took on a faint tint of pink, a sight that made your heart skip a beat. he struggled with his thoughts for a moment before he finally nodded, his gaze steady on yours. "sure," he said quietly.

you pulled the small hershey's kiss from your pocket and held it out to him. "here," you said, waiting for him to take the treat.

megumi stared at the chocolate in your hand, his expression shifting from confusion to realization and then to mild embarrassment. he let out a small, almost imperceptible sigh, shaking his head with a wry smile.

"oh, yeah. thanks," he muttered, feeling completely and utterly embarrassed by the thought that he would actually be getting a different type of kiss.

your eyes focus solely on megumi as he stares at the chocolate in your hand. he seemed disappointed but tried his best to hide it, but he knew better.

"you look disappointed. why?"

there goes your attentiveness.

"nothing's wrong. i just thought that.." he paused, taking the chocolate and unwrapping it, popping it into his mouth. your brows raised at his abrupt pause, indicating for him to go on.

you wait for him to finish the chocolate, and when he does you notice a faint blush on his cheeks. he seems to consider something for a moment, his eyes growing more contemplative.

megumi let out a soft sigh, eyes downcast as if embarrassed to say whatever he was about to say. "if..." he began slowly, "i was hoping that you would give me the other kind of kiss,"

his words took you by surprise, and you felt a warm flush creep up your cheeks. "oh?" you replied, your heart fluttering at his unexpected words (though you haven't fully comprehended it yet). after a few seconds, the realisation hit. "OHHH!! was that the type of kiss you were expecting?"

"shut up."

— kento nanami

nanami raised an eyebrow, curiosity was evident on his face. "a kiss?" he repeated. you nod your head.

"yes, a kiss. what do you say?"

he studied your face for a moment, his sharp eyes searching for any hint of a joke. but seeing your expression, he relaxed. "alright," he said with a small, gentle smile.

"i suppose i could indulge."

to your surprise, nanami stood up and closed the distance between you with a few steps. gently, he cupped your face in his warm, calloused hand. leaning in, he placed a small, chaste kiss on your forehead, his lips soft against your skin.

"there," he said, pulling back slightly to look into your eyes. "now you can give me a kiss."

your heart fluttered wildly in your chest, and you felt a flush rise to your cheeks. you fumbled for a moment, holding up the small hershey's kiss that had been concealed in your grip.

"i-i meant this kiss," you stammered, your voice flustered. "but this works too."

nanami's eyes flicked to the chocolate in your hand, and a soft chuckle escaped his lips. "ah, i see," he said, a rare glint of amusement dancing in his eyes. "a hershey's kiss."

he took the small chocolate from your hand, unwrapping it with practised ease, he popped the chocolate into his mouth, savouring the sweetness. "delicious," he remarked, his gaze never leaving yours.

you couldn't help but laugh, still feeling flustered by his actions as you shook your head. "i didn't expect you to actually kiss me like that," you admitted, a grin creeping onto your face, tugging at the corner of your lips.

nanami's smile widened slightly, a gentle warmth in his eyes. "you asked if i wanted a kiss," he said simply. "i saw no reason to decline."

— ryomen sukuna

the room was thick with tension as the king of curses lounged on his throne-like seat, his piercing red eyes flickering with a dangerous mix of boredom and disdain.

the king of curses rarely indulged in the mundane pleasantries of human interaction, yet when it comes to you, it becomes tolerable.

you approached him, chocolate clutched in your hand. "hey, sukuna," you called out, trying to keep your voice steady.

he shifted his gaze towards you, his eyes narrowing slightly as he regarded you with a mix of curiosity and contempt. "what is it, human?" he growled, his voice dripping with disdain.

taking a deep breath, you mustered your courage and offered him a tentative smile. "do you want a kiss?"

for a moment, sukuna stared at you, his expression unreadable. then, a mocking scoff escaped his lips, and he leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "a kiss?"

"i don't want your disgusting lips on mine, or on my skin at all. foul. don't you ever ask me that stupid question ever again."

you let out a sigh, resisting the urge to roll your eyes at his words. "i didn't mean that kind of kiss," you said softly, revealing the small chocolate in your hand. "i meant a hershey's kiss."

sukuna's eyes flicked to the chocolate, and for a fleeting moment, a flicker of something—curiosity, perhaps—passed through his gaze. he snatched the chocolate from your hand, unwrapping it with a sneer.

"pathetic," he muttered, popping the sweet treat into his mouth. he chewed slowly, his expression shifting from contempt to thoughtful consideration as he continued to chew.

you observed him, noticing the subtle change in his face. despite his harsh words, there was a part of him that seemed to enjoy the small gesture, though, he'd rather allow himself to be killed than admit his feelings.

after swallowing the chocolate, sukuna's eyes returned to yours, his gaze intense and unwavering. "that was tolerable," he admitted grudgingly, a faint smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "is there anything else?"

you shake your head. "no... what else would you want?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

he leaned back in his seat, his eyes never leaving yours. "another type of kiss," he said, his tone both commanding and taunting. "show me if you dare."

you hesitated, the weight of his demand on your heart. his earlier insult still lingered in your mind, but there was something in his gaze—a challenge, a test—that compelled you to step forward.

sukuna's eyes gleamed with a predatory anticipation as you drew closer. when your lips brushed against his cheek, his skin was surprisingly warm, a stark contrast to his cold behaviour.

the kiss was brief, a soft and tentative gesture that seemed to surprise even him. as you pulled back, you searched his face for a reaction. sukuna was silent, his expression neutral. then, a slow, almost imperceptible smile spread across his lips—a smile that was equal parts dangerous and intrigued.

"not bad," he murmured, his voice softer but no less commanding. "perhaps you're not as foolish as i thought."

sukuna's eyes darkened, his smirk widening slightly. "don't think this changes anything," he warned, his voice regaining its edge. "but i might tolerate your presence a bit longer."

— yuta okkotsu

yuta's eyes widened, his cheeks flushing a deep shade of pink almost immediately. he seemed caught off guard by your question, his book slowly slipping from his grasp as he tried to process your words.

"a-a kiss?" he stammered, his voice shaky. "you mean… like… a real kiss?"

you couldn't help but chuckle softly at his flustered reaction. "yes, a kiss," you spoke, watching as his blush deepened.

his mind seemed to be racing, a mix of confusion and excitement flashing in his eyes. "i… well… um… sure?" he managed to say, his voice barely above a whisper.

he looked down, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt, clearly trying to gather his composure.

you held out the small hershey's kiss, the silver foil catching the fading sunlight. "i meant this kiss," you said softly, a knowing smile on your face (yuta was always very easy to read).

yuta stared at the chocolate in your hand, his blush was still prominent but now mixed with a look of realization and slight embarrassment. "oh," he breathed out, his shoulders relaxing a bit. he let out a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "o-oh! yeah, totally—a chocolate kiss."

you handed him the chocolate, watching as he took it from you with a shy smile. "yeah, a chocolate kiss," you confirmed, your voice gentle.

as yuta unwrapped the chocolate, he glanced up at you with a sheepish grin. "i thought you meant the other kiss," he admitted, popping the treat into his mouth.

after a while, yuta turned to you, his blush returning slightly. "do you think you can give me another kiss?"

your heart skipped a beat at his words, and you felt your own cheeks warming. "you mean like the physical kiss? not the chocolate" you replied softly, already knowing the answer. he nodded, feeling a little nervous. "yeah. i mean… if you feel like it. no pressure of course!!"

you smiled, laughing softly. "i'll keep that in mind," you said gently. "you're too sweet."

yuta's smile widened, his eyes shining with happiness. "you're the one that's sweet here," he replied, his voice soft and filled with warmth.

rika is fuming right now

a/n: divider credits @/v6que // my first-ish post for jjk ^-^ if there are any pronouns other than GN please tell me, either in messages or on this post! thank you for reading 💕

#jjk x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #geto x reader #choso x reader #yuji itadori x reader #yuji x reader #megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #nanami x reader #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #yuta x reader #yuta okkotsu x reader #jjk x you #jjk x yn

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bread-crum206 · 2 months ago

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A Game of Hearts

Chapter one: Ultimatum

Summary: Y/Ns father is a VIP for the games, he makes a deal with the Frontman that if he marries his only daughter that he will continue to sponsor the games. However, Y/N is not fond of this decision as she loathes the games and in turn, loathes the Frontman as well. Will she grow to love him? Will he let his walls down?

1 | next

Series Masterlist

Click, Click, Click the sound of your heels clacking on the floor echoed throughout the hallway. You stood in front of the door to the VIP room, where sick and twisted men drop millions of dollars on a death game. Unfortunately your father is one of them. The room reeked of power and desperation, two forces colliding in ways that felt suffocating. The black walls with gold jungle like accents were a stark contrast to the mahogany table in the center of the room. You sat down in the farthest corner of the polished table, trying to avoid your father’s hawk-like gaze. The air conditioning hummed faintly, serving as the only sound punctuating the heavy silence, but it did little to cool the heat simmering beneath your skin.

Across from you, the man they called the Frontman sat stiffly, his sharp, black mask reflecting the harsh light of the overhead chandelier. He hasn’t moved an inch since you entered the room, and the lack of expression from the cold, unfeeling mask made your stomach churn violently.

“I’ve been more than generous,” your father began heatedly, swirling the amber liquid in his crystal glass. He wasn’t even pretending to be subtle about what he was suggesting. “The games thrive on my contributions, but generosity only goes so far without… stability.” Your father finished with a concerning glint in his eye.

The masked man tilted his head, just slightly. “What kind of stability are you referring to?” His voice was even, almost dismissive, like he already knew where this was going but didn’t care enough to stop it.

You did, though.

“Dad-” you attempted to start your protest, he couldn’t go through with this.

“Quiet,” he snapped demeaningly without even sparing a glance towards you. His attention was fixed on the Frontman, the kind of single-minded determination that always made him dangerous.

The Frontman leaned back in his chair, one hand resting lightly on the table. “Speak plainly.”

Your father smirked, a wolfish grin that made your stomach twist. “Marriage. My daughter will marry you. The deal will be sealed, and my funding continues uninterrupted. You gain the security to maintain the games without… complications.” A crazed look in his eyes matched his maniacal grin.

Your mouth fell open, a sharp, indignant laugh escaping before you could stop it. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Your father shot you a look, the kind that demanded obedience, but you weren’t a child anymore.

“Don’t be dramatic,” he said, as if this was a business deal like any other. “You’ve lived in comfort because of the wealth this partnership provides. It’s time to play your part.” The look on his face was nothing less than a look of hatred. Your eyes bounced between the frontman and your father incredulously.

“Play my part?” you repeated, standing so fast your chair scraped loudly against the marble floor. “You can’t just marry me off like some pawn in your sick games!”

“I can,” he said, his tone sharp and final.

You turned to the Frontman, searching for some sign of humanity beneath the mask. “And you’re okay with this? You’re just going to go along with it?” You were pleading, ready to get on your hands and knees and beg for him to reject this proposal.

The Frontman was silent, his stillness unnerving. Finally, he said, “What happens if I refuse?”

Your father shrugged, taking another sip of his drink. “The funding stops. The games collapse. And we both know what the VIPs will do if that happens.” That caused a slight falter in the frontman’s appearance. His gloved fingers curled against the edge of the table. The air felt heavy, oppressive, as if some invisible battle was taking place between the two men.

Finally, he stood. The chair scraped softly against the floor as he rose to his full height, towering over everyone in the room. “If this is the cost of stability, then so be it.” Your heart dropped to your stomach, any drop of freedom that you had previously had was stripped from you by a few mere words and you had no control over it, you were trapped just as much as the players were.

———————

The wedding took place two days later, in a grand hall that felt more like a theater than anything sacred. Rows of VIPs sat in velvet chairs, sipping champagne and watching the proceedings as if it were just another form of entertainment.

You stood at the end of the aisle in a dress that felt more like a costume, the intricate embroidery and heavy fabric weighing you down. Your hands clenched into fists at your sides as the officiant droned on about unity and partnership, words that felt hollow in a place like this. You felt like you were drowning and couldn’t resurface.

The Frontman stood beside you, his mask still firmly in place, his posture rigid. He hadn’t spoken to you since the meeting. He hadn’t looked at you either.

When it came time for the vows, he recited them mechanically, his voice devoid of emotion.

“I do,” he said, the words landing like stones in the pit of your stomach.

You hesitated, your mouth dry as the Sahara when the officiant turned to you. For a brief moment, you considered saying no, throwing the whole charade into chaos. But the weight of your father’s expectations and the suffocating gaze of the VIPs pressed down on you.

“I do,” you said finally, the words tasting bitter on your tongue, laced with venom that would slowly suffocate you.

The crowd erupted into applause as the officiant pronounced you husband and wife. It felt wrong, surreal, like a nightmare you couldn’t wake up from.

The quarters you were escorted to after the ceremony were spacious and cold, a reflection of the man who now shared them with you. You wandered through the rooms in silence, your heels clicking against the marble floors.

When you finally stopped in the main sitting area, the Frontman was already there, standing by the window with his back to you.

“This doesn’t mean anything,” you said, breaking the silence. Your voice was firm, but it wavered slightly at the edges.

“I know,” he replied without turning around.

You wanted to scream at him, to demand answers, but you were too exhausted. Instead, you turned and walked into the adjoining bedroom, slamming the door behind you.

You didn’t cry. You refused to. Instead, you sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the ornate rug beneath your feet and wondering how your life had spiraled so completely out of your control.

Be nice lmao, this is my first time ever writing anything like this.. pls let me know how I did and you would actually like to see other parts. :)

also thank you to @sunny21200 for the idea!!

#squid games x reader #squid game x y/n #x reader #the front man #in ho x reader #frontman x reader #squid game #marriage au #arranged marriage

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ddejavvu · 1 year ago

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Can you do a spencer reid with a bau reader who is younger and very atractive and when the bau are coming to see him at his apartment for whatever reason and use the key (derek probably has one ngl) they just find a mess of clothes everywhere and them just asleep together

When they wake up they are like:👀😶

Bau: 😏😏

They're not snooping, per se, but the BAU are profilers by nature, and it's not hard to spot the neon pink bra that's abandoned by the side of Spencer's recliner.

"Uh, I think pretty boy's mom has kinda aged outta stuff like this," Derek holds up the bra by one single strap, indicating the lacy cutouts that leave very little to the imagination, "Unless she's got a boyfriend we don't know about, and Spence let her have his place for the night?"

"Oh, come on, is it so hard to believe Spence has a woman here?" JJ pleads, but when she gets several 'subtle' glances from the rest of her team, she relents with a sigh, "Oh, fine. Maybe it accidentally fell into his basket at the laundromat."

"Spencer doesn't go to the laundromat," Emily recites, "Because he has 'no way to realistically verify that their machines are sanitized within proper health regulations'."

"Oh, dude, that man is a wet blanket," Derek scoffs, "But don't tell him I said that- he'll probably start on a tangent about mildew."

"We should leave," Hotch proposes, standing by the door where he'd been trying to keep up an air of polite disinterest despite his intent glances around the apartment, "His keys are hung up by the door, so I'm sure we're just not getting a response from him because he's sleeping. And if he woke up he'd kill you all for wearing shoes on his carpet, so it's in everyone's best interest to leave."

"Hold on!" Penelope gushes, "I just want to check!"

She creeps towards Spencer's bedroom, but at JJ's insistent, 'Shoes!', she chucks her heels back towards the door. One hits its intended blonde target, but the other whacks Derek in the arm, and Hotch is surprised that the dramatics that ensue don't wake Spencer from where he's presumably sleeping. He's sure Penelope will offer to kiss it better.

Penelope tiptoes towards the bedroom door, peering inside the small gap that he'd left before laying down, and finding a Spencer-sized lump under the covers. She nearly turns when she notices that it's larger than just Spencer-sized, and-

"Ooooh, guys," She rushes back to the living room, voice barely hushed enough not to wake you, "He's got a girl in there!"

Derek's victory fist-pump is accompanied by a whispered, 'My man!', but Emily reaches for a pen that's resting in the breast pocket of her blazer. She takes the bra from where Derek had set it on the arm of the couch, rooting around for a post-it in Spencer's drawer and finding a stack of them neatly tucked into the front-right corner. Typical. Just the way he does it at work.

While Penelope describes how close the two of you were sleeping beside each other- 'not an inch apart, guys, they were totally spooning!' - Emily scrawls a neat message on the post-it, dotting the I with a heart.

'Congratulations, Spencer and Mystery Girl!' She writes, leaving the sticky note over the lingerie that she sets on his countertop, 'Tell him to bring you around the office sometime soon - your bra is gorgeous, I need to know where you got it ~ Prentiss <3'

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid one-shot #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid headcanons #spencer reid headcanon #spencer reid hc #spencer reid hcs #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid dialogue #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader fanfiction #spencer reid smut

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iamgonnagetyouback · 24 days ago

Note

I’ve read every single one of your works, and I am absolutely obsessed! The way you write and capture emotions is beyond amazing—it’s pure magic. I really hope this isn’t too much to ask 😭, but I just adore your writing so much. If you’re not comfortable with this request, though, please don’t hesitate to ignore it. Thank you so much!

Could I request a James Potter x Reader story? The plot starts with James pursuing Lily Evans, but along the way, he realizes his feelings for her were more about the excitement of the chase. In contrast, with the reader, he feels truly at ease, able to be himself without pretending or changing for anyone. I’d love for Lily’s perspective to be included—how she starts to desire James after noticing how much he’s 'matured' in his relationship with the reader, but she can only stand by and watch as James and the reader create their beautiful love story.

chase ⋆˚࿔

synopsis ⭑.ᐟ james potter x reader where he realizes who he truly loves

warnings: fluff overload, mild angst

word count: 1,836 words

author's note: omg stopppp you’re making me blush ‹𝟹 this is the sweetest thing ever, and i’m so honored you enjoy my writing!! ♡

navigation┆ james potter masterlist┆request here 𝜗𝜚

James Potter had been chasing Lily Evans for years. Everyone at Hogwarts knew it—how he’d flash his most charming smile, throw an arm around her shoulder with a wink, and dramatically proclaim his undying love. It was all in good fun, of course. At least, that’s what he always told himself.

Lily, ever stubborn, had always rebuffed him. At first, she detested his arrogance. Later, she simply rolled her eyes and dismissed his advances, treating him as little more than a particularly persistent house elf. James didn't mind. The chase was half the fun, after all.

"She'll come around, you'll see," James would say after every rejection, running a hand through his already messy hair.

"Mate, she's been saying no for three years," Sirius pointed out, sprawled lazily on the Gryffindor common room couch. "At what point do you consider the possibility that she's actually not interested?"

James gasped, placing a dramatic hand on his chest. "Not interested? Padfoot, please. That’s just what she wants me to think."

Remus sighed from behind his book. "Or perhaps she genuinely means it. You ever consider not making a public spectacle every time you ask her out?"

Peter snickered. "Yeah, Prongs, maybe if you stop serenading her in the Great Hall, she'll stop running the other way."

"That was one time!" James protested. "And I thought she’d appreciate the gesture."

You, sitting cross-legged by the fire, smirked. "James, darling, even I was embarrassed for you, and I usually live for the drama."

Sirius grinned. "See? When even our dear, theatrical doll here cringes, you know you’ve gone too far."

James huffed, crossing his arms. "You lot are supposed to support me."

Remus finally set his book down, giving him a small smile. "We do support you. We just also support your dignity."

James groaned, burying his face in his hands. "Alright, fine. Maybe I’ll try… a different approach."

The boys exchanged glances, and you patted his knee sympathetically. "That’s the spirit, Prongs. Maybe next time, just… don’t propose in front of McGonagall again."

James groaned even louder as the Marauders burst into laughter.

But somewhere along the way, the chase had stopped being fun.

It had started with you.

You, the one he never really had to chase. You, who laughed at his antics but also scolded him when he was being too reckless. You, who had a quick wit but also a kindness about you that softened his rougher edges. You, who never needed him to be anything but himself.

It hadn’t happened all at once. There was no lightning strike, no grand revelation. Just little moments that wove themselves into something undeniable.

The way you tucked a stray curl behind your ear when you were reading, tongue poking out slightly in concentration. James had watched you do it a hundred times before realizing how endearing he found it. The way you argued with Sirius about the best way to sneak into Hogsmeade, eyes alight with mischief as you held your ground against the self-proclaimed master of rule-breaking. The way you always had a spare quill when he inevitably lost his, rolling your eyes fondly as you handed it over with a teasing, "Honestly, James, do you even own quills?"

There was the way you leaned against his shoulder after a long cold day, sighing. "James Potter, you are a human furnace. Please continue existing exactly as you are."

There was the way he found himself seeking you out first—before Remus, before Sirius, before Peter, before anyone else—whenever he had good news to share. The way his jokes felt funnier when you laughed at them. The way his name sounded different coming from your lips, softer somehow, like it belonged there.

One night, after an exhausting Quidditch practice, you had met him outside the changing rooms with a chocolate frog in hand. "For your heroic efforts," you’d said with a mock bow, pressing it into his palm. He had laughed, shoving it into his pocket, but the warmth in his chest lingered long after.

James Potter had always thought he wanted a grand, all-consuming love. He had spent years chasing something he thought would make him whole. But standing beside you, teasing and laughing and existing so effortlessly together, he realized something else.

Maybe love wasn’t supposed to be a chase.

Maybe it was supposed to feel like home.

Lily noticed the shift before James did. It crept up on her, subtle but undeniable, like the slow changing of seasons. He still ruffled his hair like a prat, still laughed too loudly with his friends, still turned every moment into a grand performance. But there was something quieter about him now, something settled in the way he carried himself. The endless pursuit that had once defined James Potter—the grand gestures, the dramatic declarations, the unrelenting chase—had stopped. And he hadn’t even noticed.

At first, she felt relief. She had spent years pushing him away, certain that his attention was something fleeting, something she didn’t want. And now, finally, he had listened.

Then she felt something else.

She caught herself watching him more often. Noticing the little things. The way his grin softened when he looked at you. The way his hand found your wrist when he pulled you toward him in the common room, like it was second nature. The way he listened when you spoke—really listened, with an intensity that made it clear you had his full attention. She had never seen that look on his face before. Not when he looked at her.

And suddenly, she found herself wondering. Had she been wrong about James Potter?

Had she spent all these years dismissing him without ever really knowing him? Had she mistaken boyish bravado for immaturity, mistaking the show for the substance beneath it?

But it didn’t matter.

Because James wasn’t looking at her anymore.

The realization hadn’t struck James like lightning, not at first. He hadn’t woken up one day and thought, Oh, I love her. No, it was something slower, quieter—woven into the fabric of every moment he spent with you.

It was the way you sat beside him in the common room, curled up with a book, the firelight casting flickering shadows across your face. The way you absently played with the hem of his sleeve when you were lost in thought. The way you saw him—not James Potter, Quidditch Captain, mischief-maker, the boy who never stopped chasing—but James. Just James.

And for the first time, he found that was all he wanted to be.

He didn’t need to impress you. He didn’t need to chase you. He could just exist with you, and it was enough.

There was a night—one that stuck with him, long after it had passed—when he had finally put words to the feeling.

You had found him on the Astronomy Tower, shoulders hunched against the cold, lost in thoughts he hadn’t even realized were weighing him down. You didn’t ask what was wrong. You just sat beside him, close enough that your knees touched, close enough that he could feel your warmth.

“You ever think about who you are without all the noise?” he murmured after a long silence.

You tilted your head. “What do you mean?”

James hesitated. Then he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’ve spent so much time being—being James Potter, you know? The one who’s always got a joke, the one who’s always chasing something. But with you…” He trailed off, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. “I don’t have to be anything but me.”

You blinked, taken aback, before a small smile curved your lips. “That’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

James let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “Yeah,” he said, his voice quieter now. “Yeah, it is.”

You nudged his shoulder gently. “For what it’s worth, I like just you.”

And that was it.

Not a grand confession. Not a dramatic moment. Just quiet understanding.

Just home.

Lily saw it all unfold. Saw James fall in love without the fanfare, without the spectacle. And for the first time, she saw him—not the boy who had chased her, but the boy who had finally stopped running.

And it wasn’t for her.

It was too late.

Then came the grand gesture.

James Potter did nothing in half measures, and asking you on a date was no exception. If anything, he seemed almost nostalgic about the whole ordeal—like he had spent so many years planning elaborate schemes for Lily that now, finally asking the right person, he wanted to do it justice.

So, naturally, it started with fireworks.

Not just any fireworks, but ones that spelled out your name across the sky in brilliant, shimmering letters, crackling above the Quidditch Pitch where half the school had gathered after dinner. Then came the enchanted banners floating midair, reading: 'WILL YOU GO ON A DATE WITH ME?' in flashing gold and red, trailing behind a very enthusiastic Sirius, who had volunteered to fly them around on his broom. A charmed choir of singing toads croaked a love song (Remus’ contribution, because, according to him, ‘there needed to be some class in this spectacle’), and Peter had somehow gotten his hands on a bouquet of flowers that smelled like sunshine.

James himself stood in the center of it all, hand on his heart, eyes locked on yours, waiting.

The crowd turned to you, hushed in anticipation. Lily, standing off to the side, watched with wide eyes, an unreadable expression on her face. There was a time when she would have scoffed at something like this, dismissed it with a roll of her eyes.

But you—

You were grinning.

Dramatically clutching your chest, you gasped, staggering back like a swooning damsel in distress. "Oh, James Potter! Whatever shall I say? This is all so sudden!"

James, without missing a beat, fell to one knee. "Say yes, my darling star! For I have loved you since the dawn of time—or, well, since fourth year at least, and that’s practically the same thing!"

You pretended to think, tapping your chin. "Hmm. I don’t know, Potter. It’s an awfully big commitment."

James shot to his feet, grabbing your hands, eyes wide with mock desperation. "I shall spend every day proving myself worthy of your love! I shall carry your books! Share my sweets! Defend your honor against Slytherins and bad hair days alike!"

You sighed deeply, then beamed. "Well, in that case… Yes! A thousand times yes!"

The crowd erupted into cheers, Sirius fist-pumped midair, and Remus groaned into his hands. James, triumphant, swept you up in a spin, laughing so hard his glasses nearly fell off.

Lily watched it all unfold, and for the first time, she felt the weight of what she had lost. Not because she wanted James, not really. But because once upon a time, it had been her he was chasing.

But James Potter had finally stopped chasing.

Because he had already caught what he was looking for.

#james potter x reader #james fleamont potter #james potter fluff #james potter #fluff #dividers by bernardsbendystraws #ivy writes ⋆.˚#james potter x you #james potter fanfiction #james potter x y/n #james potter drabble #requests ⊹₊⟡⋆#dividers by adornedwithlight

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simplyholl · 8 months ago

Text

Happily Never After Pt. 1

Summary: A marriage proposal from Prince Loki is every princess's dream come true, except for yours.

Pairing: Asgard Loki x F. Reader

Warnings: Smut. Minors DNI. 18+ ONLY. Loss of Virginity.

W/C: 3.4K

A/N: This will be two parts!

See My Masterlist Here

"Married to Prince Loki?!" You shriek. It was the most absurd thing you had ever heard. "Stop being dramatic, dear. You two are very close. Since Prince Thor is already promised, this is the best match we could secure. Your father and I thought you would be happy considering he is your friend, and not a stranger."

"We used to be close! That was ages ago! I loathe him, mother. This is unfair. I would rather marry a stranger." You protest, wiping your sweaty palms on your long gown as you pace the room. "Why do you hate him? We just visited them last week." She tries to reason with you.

"You said yourself he was your best friend. Do you not recall the tears you shed when your father forbid you from spending time with him unchaperoned?" She pours herself more tea, waiting for your reply. "Yes, well he was my best friend. He's a different person now. I barely know him." You look out of your window, the palace in clear view of your own estate.

Your father was king of a neighboring realm, when the ogres attacked, forcing your family to seek safety in Asgard. You were welcomed with open arms. Frigga and your mother became fast friends. Odin relied on your father's knowledge of the other realms' customs, so he became valuable to him. Frigga invited your mother for tea every day. She insisted your mother bring you along since she had two boys close to your age you could play with.

Thor was older, more focused on playing rough with the other boys. He never paid attention to you. Loki was only a year older than you. You often found him reading under a tree instead of playing. He didn't notice you at first until you insisted the older boys let you play. Volstagg accidentally knocked you to the ground.

When Loki heard you crying, he stood up for you even though Volstagg towered over all of you. He was an unusually large child. Loki brought you to his favorite hiding place. Deep in the woods behind the palace there was a treehouse. He explained that he often came there for solace. It was built for Odin thousands of years ago when he was a child.

Thor didn't like to play there because it was too far from the palace. He thought he would get in trouble. One evening, Loki lost track of time and fell asleep in the treehouse. When he was finally found, Frigga had the place cleaned up, so it wouldn't be dangerous. Ever since that day, you and Loki were inseparable. You used the treehouse as a secret lair for you two to spend time alone.

The other children didn't play with you. They only played with Loki because they were scared of Odin. You understood each other completely. You would make up stories and put on one person plays to share your creativity. You grew up together. It went from playing as children, to hiding out in the tree house after mandatory appearances at balls. You despised when your father wanted you to meet other royals. He would force you to dance with their sons. After two dances, you and Loki would slip away to your private place.

You would laugh about the cheesy things they said to impress you. You would never forget the first time your heart skipped a beat. You were laughing about the visiting prince who told you your gown was lovely. It was the most hideous shade of lime green the seamstress could find. You had requested it that way, so you could hide your beauty. You wiped tears of laughter from the corners of your eyes as you told Loki your reasoning for the unpleasing color.

"You should have known you couldn't hide beauty like yours even in that atrocious gown." His sentiment made you blush, your heart stopped beating as he held your gaze. His eyes lingered on your lips for a few seconds too long. You were sure he was going to kiss you. You closed your eyes in anticipation, feeling his face draw closer to yours. Then you were interrupted by Thor bellowing down below. Your father was looking for you.

You wouldn't be allowed out of his sight if he caught you out there. When you got home, you wrote everything down in your diary. How Loki had made you feel beautiful for the first time in your life, how you wished Thor and your father would have waited moments longer. The next day your father called you into his study, your diary in hand. Oh, how you wished the floor would open up and swallow you whole.

"I forbid you to see him ever again." Your father's stern words instantly made you cry. Loki was everything to you. You couldn't lose him. You told him it was just a silly crush. That what you had written was just a fantasy you made up. He finally believed your lies, but now you couldn't be with him unless you were chaperoned.

Hundreds of years went by, you were as close as ever. You still found your way around the chaperones. You would sneak out at night meeting at the treehouse. You would stay up half the night together laughing as you did when you were children. He would have you back in your bed before sunrise. You always thought it was unfair that you had to be chaperoned, but Loki could do as he pleased.

Then came your first heartbreak. A visiting prince had met you at one of Frigga's balls. He immediately asked your father to court you. You were devastated. You didn't want to be courted. You were happy with your life. But your father couldn't wait to marry you off. But the more time you spent with the prince, the more you liked him. He had dark hair and blue eyes, sometimes you pretended he was Loki.

But he wasn't and there was your whole problem. No one would compare to Loki. But if you had to marry someone, at least the prince was nice. The prince would often find you with Loki going on strolls through the gardens, eating, and reading in silence. One evening, he visited your estate. He said he wanted to end this courtship. You couldn't think of anything you did wrong. He explained that he was certain your affection lied elsewhere, and he wanted to be the only man in his future bride's life. You didn't understand what he had meant, but you thanked him. You were free once again.

Then the latest scandal sheet was delivered by your maid. It mentioned how you and the prince were getting close. You rolled your eyes, thankful that was over. But when you reached the last paragraph, your whole world shattered. Prince Loki had been seen at the brothel three times this week. Not only that, but he had been caught with an unnamed maid in his mother's garden.

It wasn't uncommon for royalty to fuck around like whores, but this truly wounded you. You cried for a week after it came out. Your mother thought you were upset over the prince ending your courtship, so she explained there would be other princes. You didn't visit Loki for three months after the scandal sheet came out.

Another one hundred years passed, and you had grown used to Loki's womanizing. You were at the market, Loki carrying your basket filled with trinkets, winking at the unsuspecting maidens. He made note of the ones he wanted to bed later. You rolled your eyes, as you handed your coins to the shopkeeper, peeling the orange you just purchased.

"Really Loki, can you go one minute without finding four new lovers?" You joked. "Jealous?" He smirked. "Of course not, don't be ridiculous." "The only reason you are not overcome with jealousy is because you do not know what I am capable of carnally." The bite of orange you had just taken lodged down your throat causing you to choke. Loki smiled, pleased with himself.

"Of course, I wouldn't know that, or care to find out. You shouldn't speak of such things so loudly. What if someone heard you?" You looked around, your maid, Greta had her eyes on the ground pretending she wasn't listening. Loki walked over to her, dropping a few coins into her hand, and whispering to her. You watch as she goes to the next vender looking at the silks.

Loki grabs your arm, leading you behind a tent. "Aren't you curious? Your parents keep you in the dark, only for the bumbling fool you end up marrying to spill his seed in a matter of minutes." You would be like the other princesses, not knowing what to expect on your wedding night, if it wasn't for Loki. He had told you all about the act some hundred years ago, so you would know what to expect. You were thankful for that, at least.

But now, when he was looking at you like that, and speaking of such things, you wished you didn't know. "You won't experience pleasure with them. They just want to produce an heir, and once that's taken care of, he will get a mistress. I don't want that for you. I hope that you find a love match, but that is highly unlikely considering your father allows anyone with a title to court you."

You consider Loki's words as he leans in, his breath tickling your ear. "Let me show you what you are missing. I'll make it good for you. You deserve to experience mind blowing sex at least once in your life." He was the devil himself; you were sure of it. He was so tempting. You knew he was experienced, and women threw themselves all over him everywhere you went. He had to be good at it.

"I - I'm not sure. I would be ruined if anyone found out. My father would kill you.” You whisper, just in case someone was listening. "That's not a problem, I would just marry you before your reputation took a hit." He smiles as if what he said wasn't crazy. "Loki, I couldn't ask you to do that. To be honest, I am frightened. Not of you, but of the act itself. It doesn't sound like it would be pleasurable. Oh, but it must be if every eligible maiden in the kingdom lets you have your way with them."

You continue your ranting until Loki grabs your hand. "I would be gentle with you. We could start slowly. We would only do what you are comfortable with." You agreed to meet him at the treehouse that night. When you're back in your chambers you call Greta in to question her.

"Greta, have you had sex before?" She gasps, looking everywhere but at you. "My lady, that is not appropriate." You sit on your bed, gesturing for her to sit beside you. "Oh, spare me, we have known each other since we were girls. So out with it." You fold your arms across your chest waiting for her to answer.

"Yes, there was one man." She answers, her cheeks turning red. "Greta! Who was it?" She smiles, "Bart, the baker's son. We had a lovely couple of months together, but then he married the butcher's daughter. You see, men are fickle creatures. They use you until they find someone else. So be warned, my lady, keep your heart out of it. Men can have sex without emotions, and us women, well we often times end up heartbroken."

Greta's words repeated in your head all afternoon. You had known Loki for centuries, so you didn't think he would hurt you. But you were tempted to turn around, go back to your chambers and pretend like none of this ever happened. Luckily, he was in the treehouse waiting for you, so you couldn't leave now.

"It has been brought to my attention that men will do this with anyone, so I know it will mean nothing to you. And apparently, it will mean everything to me. I just don't want to regret this." You confide in Loki. "My darling girl, this will mean everything to me too. You are far too precious to me for it to mean nothing. We don't have to do anything if that is what you wish."

"I think you are right. I deserve to feel pleasure, and I trust you. I'm just nervous." Loki cups your face in his hands, bringing himself closer to you. It was so similar to that night when you were teenagers, your stomach erupts in butterflies. You never imagined the cute, gangly boy you knew so long ago would grow into the devilishly handsome man before you.

He kisses you, and it is exactly how you had always imagined. It was as if no time had passed between the moment when he almost kissed you centuries ago and now. You felt exactly the same. When he finally breaks the kiss, you look at him with wide eyes. If just his kiss could make you feel like this, you were in trouble.

Loki sat you down on the old mat you used to read on as children. It had fresh linen on it. Loki must have put it on before your arrival. He pressed kisses to your neck, sharp teeth nipping at your exposed skin. He had you sit up so he could undo your dress, nimble fingers working quickly on your corset until all your clothing was sat aside. You were bare for the first time in front of a man, but you were not ashamed. You should have attempted to cover yourself, but when Loki looked at you like you were a priceless painting, you felt no need to.

Loki took his time kissing every part of you. He toyed with your nipples, and you felt yourself growing wet. When he lowered his head to take one between his lips, you finally understood why all those maidens would jump at his beck and call. He kissed his way down your stomach, nipping your upper thigh. He spread your legs apart, pleased with your arousal dripping down your thighs.

"May I?" He asks, pink tongue poking out to lick his bottom lip. You aren't sure what he is asking, but he knows what he is doing, so you give your consent. His tongue envelops you, sliding from your slit to your most sensitive part. "Loki!" You shout, as he continues exploring you. His tongue flicks your clit as your hands weave through his messy locks.

You never imagined it would be like this. And you suppose if it wasn't for Loki, you would never know. He slips a long finger inside you as he continues licking you, He stretches you, placing another finger inside. You jolt at the intrusion, his fingers curling to caress your walls. You feel like you are about to explode.

"Loki, I feel so wonderful." You tell him. His lips suction around your clit, tugging while his fingers work their magic. Stars explode behind your eyes as your first orgasm rips through you. Loki waits until you finish writhing on his face before coming up for air. He wipes your arousal off his face with the back of his hand.

You think that has to be the most attractive thing you have ever seen. But you are proven wrong when Loki undresses. He has filled out since the last time you saw him shirtless, when you were swimming as teenagers. He drops his trousers, hard cock springing free. You gasp when you see the size of him. You were beyond thankful he told you about the differences between men and women so long ago. What a surprise this would be if he hadn't.

"You still have time to change your mind, love. Just say the word and I will stop." He stalks toward you, lowering himself to the mat. "Please do not stop." You say breathlessly. Loki chuckles, settling between your thighs. "This will hurt, but only for a moment. Tell me when you are ready for me to move."

Loki sinks into you, pressure and pain causing you to cry out. "I'm so sorry. I can't help it. It will feel better soon, I promise." You grit your teeth as Loki bottoms out. He stills inside you, waiting for you to give him permission to move. You take a minute, adjusting to his size, before you tell him you are alright.

Loki slowly removes himself before filling you completely again. After a few thrusts, it starts to feel good. "Faster, Loki, please." You beg, clawing at his back as he ravishes you. His hand comes down between your joined bodies, skilled fingers swirling against your clit. The feeling you had earlier comes back full force, another orgasm sending you soaring. Loki pulls out, finishing on the fresh linen on the mat. You lay there, breathing heavily, looking at Loki. He truly is beautiful. "Shall we go again?" He asks, his signature smirk returning.

Loki laid with you three more times before the sun rose. He walked you back to your estate, making sure you made it inside safely before walking back to the palace. The next day, you were excited to see Loki. You secretly hoped you would spend the day in the treehouse.

"Mary was looking for you." Fandral tells Loki, raising his eyebrows suggestively. "Well, you can tell her I never wish to see her again. She is of no use to me anymore." They laugh in unison, walking away as you round the corner. "Has someone finally caught your eye?" Fandral smiles. "Actually, I plan on asking the princess to marry me." Loki shocks Fandral who places a hand over his heart.

"Did you hear that, Greta?" You ask your maid, unwanted tears filling your eyes. "Yes, my lady." She answers. "Repeat what you heard please."

"Prince Loki said "You can tell her I never wish to see her again. She is of no use to me anymore." She looks at you with pity. "That's what I heard too. Oh, Greta." You collapse into her arms, sobbing. "Let's go home, my lady. We mustn't let the prince see that he has hurt you."

From that moment on, things were very different between you and Loki. He demanded to know why you avoided him now and why you never had a kind word for him. You never answered because he knew what he had done. He just didn't know you heard him talking about you. That was five months ago. Now, Odin was ordering him to marry and they had chosen you of all people.

If this happened before you would be ecstatic. Now, it makes you sick thinking about being alone with him. You had no choice. Your father had been trying to marry you off for centuries, and you always got out of your courtships somehow. You suspected Loki had a hand in it. But now that he wanted to marry you, there was no getting out of it.

You were expected at the palace by noon tomorrow. You paced the floor so many times, your footprints were probably embedded into the floor. Then you had the perfect idea. You would run away.

The next day everyone awaited your arrival. Your mother and father sat with Frigga and Odin having tea while they waited. Thor patted Loki on the back. "Finally, brother. Everyone saw this coming. I am very happy for you." Loki brought his cup to his lips, when a timid knock on the door interrupted them. He jumps up, rushing to let you inside. Instead of you, he is greeted by Greta. "Forgive the intrusion, your highness. It's the princess she ran away." Greta hands Loki the letter you left.

She sniffles, worried about you. While he reads the note, your father and Odin start planning on sending knights to find you. Frigga comforts your mother. "What does it say?" Thor asks, peeking over Loki's shoulder.

Greta, I cannot marry that pompous ass. I would rather live amongst the pigs. Do not bother looking for me, because you will never find me. Tell mother and father I love them dearly. Thank you Greta, for everything. I wish I could have taken you with me. All my love.

"No need to create a search team, father. I will find her myself." Loki states, leaving the room.

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contact-guy · 1 month ago

Note

currently breaking down over watson and mary if u even care <3

THIS IS WHAT I'M ALWAYS SAYING!!

Something I thought about with Mary that I didn't really have time/room to get into was that, when we meet her in the story, she did not honestly believe in the possibility of long term, happy gay love. She had had flings and affairs, like the one with her employer, but believed that they were destined to end (usually painfully and dramatically) because that's just what a person like her in a society like theirs had to accept, and she was a practical woman. So she readily agreed to Watson's proposal, because the societal protection of marriage with a husband who didn't want anything from her besides friendship was the best option she could possibly imagine. And then, surprise surprise, she fell in love with Ed (who, as a butch who dresses in mens' clothes and works mens' jobs, has a very different experience of the world) and realized she wanted to fight for that love and dream bigger than a life of compromises. ANYWAY ultimately the sketchbook is the story of Watson and Holmes BUT I have a billion thoughts about Mary and lavender marriages and maybe one day I will make another comic on this topic!

#watsons sketchbook

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siriuslylantsov · 22 days ago

Text

canine tendencies

pairing: sirius black x reader

description: in which, you put charms in sirius' hair and confront certain traits of his.

tags: fluff! fem!reader, mmm pining, cuddling, totally platonic activities going on here, r is muggle-born hence the vet and dog anatomy knowledge, sirius is a puppy agenda, pretty women from the 70s mentioned (dont pay much attention to it), flirting.

a/n: staying true to my username with more sirius black. wanna play with his hair for days tbh. happy reading!

wc: 1.7k

“you don't know when to give up, do you?”

you raise your chin indignantly, “i'm stubborn.”

sirius fixes you with a withering glare, it doesn't pack much of a punch but you can tell he's stalling. he finally relents with a long sigh, ever the dramatic. you squeal, walking over to his bed with a little pouch that jingled as you moved. you nudge at his shoulders to lean against the headboard and set yourself down beside him. he grumbles, muttering something along the lines of waste of time and how your neck is gonna hurt. you bite back a smile at his cause for concern: you.

“complain all you want, but you know this is gonna look good,” you muse, with an air of smugness. “you’ll be singing my praises.”

he lets his head hang to the side, looking at you, up those pretty eyelashes of his. his eyes are indifferent, yet they crinkle at the corners, trying to not prove you right. pools of grey and blue, you could drown in them.

your elbow is wedged between a pillow and the headboard, propping you up, knees curled, poking into his thigh. his legs are sprawled out in an obnoxious man spread, effectively making you move closer so you don't fall off the bed–that's small enough regardless of the space he's taking up.

he's avoided you all day since you proposed the idea at breakfast: putting charms in his hair. what's strange is that you’ve done his hair plenty of times before sans protest. you ponder it quietly, simultaneously willing him to concede with squinted eyes, as he deadpans you.

if he could, he would've told you that he’s afraid to be alone with you. not that he hasn't been before, he has and he's been this close to you too (he constantly is). but something is different now, something about your hands in his hair that he can’t deal with. especially recently, you've taken to scratching behind his ear and it drives him a little crazy. he won't stop you though, on account of it feeling so good. usually, you're around the others so he can shift his focus elsewhere rather than think about how softly your fingers pad over his scalp, but now you’re alone and he's cursing lily for dragging his friends to some stupid baking endeavour that he stealthily got out of.

you watch as annoyance passes over his features (directed to lily but you don't know that) and it instantly worries you. maybe he was serious about not wanting this, were you pushing him?

“sirius, if you really don't want me to do this,” you start, a nervous edge to your fast rush of words, “please tell me. i don't want to force you into doing anything-”

“hey,” he stops you with a hand over your arm and a small reassuring smile. “i'm sorry, i do. i just think you’re hot when you're irritated.”

“you must think i'm farah fawcett all the time then,” you mutter, rooting around in your pouch for the gold cuffs you thought would suit him. “and i'm not irritated, i have a surprising amount of patience for you,” you correct, inspecting the cuffs in your palm.

sirius sits up a bit to peer at them, chewing his lip in thought. “mmm not her. barbara carrera maybe,” he adds, looking back at you, his resistance fading away.

your eyebrows shoot up slightly, in mild shock. “she's pretty,” you remark to his comparison and the seemingly honest delivery.

“yeah,” he says, incredibly earnest, “so are you.”

curious and curiouser. “you think flirting with me is gonna get you out of this?”

“i don't know, is it working?”

“nope,” you say curtly, bring your hand back up to his face, this time with a few charms as well. “pick.”

he does, and sets them in your other hand held out. you begin parting his hair for the braids, you settle for placing them under the top of his hair, since his layers are short they'll peek through nicely. you tie a sloppy half bun to the unused portion of his hair so it's out of the way and section out a piece to braid.

sirius dutifully holds the gold adornments in his hand as you work, suddenly quiet. he always gets like this, you've noticed. all quip remarks are silenced when your hands are in his hair. you make note to tease him about it later but for now you're content to stay quiet.

he's humming something quietly, a tune you're unfamiliar with, it's ok he’ll tell you later. it fills the silence nicely. you pick the first charm, looping it into a strand of hair and continuing the braid to secure it. his hair is unbelievably soft, it's probably why you like touching it so much. you both know it gets greasier faster because of your constant contact but sirius makes no move to stop you, ever, simply muttering a spell to revive it.

it goes on like this for about ten minutes, mostly because the charms were a bit more difficult to work with than you thought and also because you were extremely wary of trying not to tangle his hair. he stares at you diligently out of his periphery and you try not to meet his gaze.

when you're done you lift the handheld mirror to his face. fuck, he looks beautiful. you have to look away, allowing him to assess everything on his own.

he shoots you a blinding grin, looking exceedingly pleased with how it turned out, “thanks, dove!”

“you’re welcome,” you respond. “it looks good, right?”

he nods, looking into the mirror again. “really good. you did an amazing job.”

your heart flutters at the praise but you don't let it show, accepting his words with a smug smile. it doesn't last long though as he jumps you with a hug, winding you. arms wrapped around your middle, his head rests on your chest, just below your chin, squeezing you in appreciation. you wrap your arms around him in tandem and lean back against the headboard and the pillows, practically pulling half of him on top of you.

it's rough and tumble for a moment before he settles with a low hum, arms still circled around your torso. he knows they’ll go numb the longer he stays like this but he doesn't care.

you trail one hand into his hair instinctively, like it's second nature. your nails lightly graze over that spot behind his ear and he’s done for. when you begin scratching, he melts, like truly melts against your body, letting out a long, pleased sigh. he makes note to kick himself later for acting like this. beneath his cheek, he feels you shake. are you laughing?

he lifts his head, a little incredulous. “what?”

you chuckle, seeing how he blinks away the blissful air to his expression. “nothing, it’s just-”

he looks at you expectantly as you contemplate your words.

you let out an amused snort before speaking again, “i don't know if it's, like, a subconscious response to your animagus form but dogs really like being scratched behind their ears.”

he gapes at you, affronted. “are you calling me a dog?”

“you are, padfoot.”

he whines petulantly before dropping back to your chest. he noses at your sternum, his own wordless way of getting you to continue. so you do.

“dogs have a very concentrated area of nerve endings here,” you explain quietly, scratching his scalp again, just behind his ear. “when stimulated, it causes the brain to release endorphins, making them feel relaxed.”

he hums in thought though it sounds more pleased and it scarcely proves your point.

“how’d you know that?” he asks, voice muffled by your shirt.

“my friend had to take her cat to the vet and i read one of those pet magazines to pass the time,” you murmur, your voice still quiet as you begin to feel sirius growing heavier over you.

“y’so smart,” he slurs, words trailing off in the beginning of sleep.

“don't fall asleep,” you whisper, though you make no effort to wake him up.

he mumbles something incoherent, nuzzling further into your neck but giving you a little grace by shuffling off of your body. one leg is still tangled with yours and his arms are still tightly wrapped around you but at least he's not crushing you.

“tell me more,” he requests, words trailing up at the end in question.

you think for a moment, reaching to the depths of your brain to retrieve the dog facts you read about that day, perking up when you do.

“hmmm dogs have incredibly sensitive noses. they have up to, like, 300 million scent receptors, where humans have about 5 million and the part of their brain that processes smells is 40 times larger than ours,” you mumble, tapping a light finger to the tip of his nose.

“cool,” he exclaims, though it's anything but. his eyes slowly flutter shut as you coil a piece of his hair, sealing your fate for the rest of the evening. that is until, much to sirius’ dismay, his roommates come bursting in.

flour scattered over their clothes and hair alike, they’re boisterous as they enter, chatting something along the lines of baking is actually kinda fun. he groans against your body, sleep stretching far and wide from his grasp. you stifle a laugh as he glares at them annoyedly. they pay no attention to the boy, instead making plans on playing quidditch. to this, he brightens. jumping from the bed at a speed you can't quite justify, not being overly fond of the sport yourself. you were more inclined to flying for fun, rather than competition.

he glances back at you, tentatively, asking for your permission almost. you shrug indifferently, you were going to make your way down to the field anyway. he grins and leans down, pressing a quick firm kiss to your cheek before rushing after the dwindling voices down the stairs, his own broom in tow.

you bite your lip to push down the giggle that bubbles up in your throat, maybe there are some innate canine tendencies.

reblogs and replies are appreciated :) | m.list

#sirius black #the marauders #marauders era #sirius black fic #sirius black fanfic #sirius black fanfiction #marauders fanfiction #padfoot #sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #sirius black x y/n #marauders #sirius black fluff #fluff #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction

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luvst4rc0r3 · 22 days ago

Text

“Sleepy Proposals”

Jinx x F!Reader

WC:973

NOTE: establish relationship. Man, I don’t know how I keep coming up with these ideas.

The room was quiet, save for the occasional hum of Zaun’s neon lights filtering through the cracks in the blinds. You were lying in bed, half-buried under the tangled mess of blankets that Jinx always insisted on hoarding but never really used.

Jinx was sprawled out next to you, her long, slender limbs a chaotic mix of elbow and knee angles that somehow always found their way into your personal space. She’d been unusually calm tonight, her usual hyperactive energy dimmed to something softer—still Jinx, but with a quiet edge.

You were already halfway to dreamland, your head resting on the pillow, when she spoke.

“Hey,” she said, her voice uncharacteristically small.

“Mm?” you hummed, not bothering to open your eyes.

There was a pause, like she was searching for the right words, and then she blurted it out.

“We should get married one day… Will you marry me?”

It was so casual, so simple, that it took your brain a solid five seconds to register the words. But in your sleepy haze, you just murmured, “Talk about this in the morning,” and rolled over, pulling the blanket tighter around you.

Another pause. Then, softly: “Okay.”

The quiet settled back over the room, but something started tugging at the edges of your half-asleep mind.

Wait a second.

Your eyes blinked open. You stared at the ceiling, your heartbeat picking up as her words replayed in your head.

We should get married one day.

Will you marry me?

Oh, shit.

You shot upright, turning to look at her. Jinx was lying on her side, her hair spilling over the pillow in messy blue waves, her wide, tired eyes glinting in the dim light. She was watching you, her lips twitching in a small, nervous smile like she was trying to act nonchalant but couldn’t quite pull it off.

“You—” you started, your voice hoarse with sleep. “Did you just—?”

“Ask you to marry me?” she finished, her grin widening into something more familiar, more mischievous. “Yeah, I did.”

You stared at her, your brain struggling to catch up. “Jinx!”

“What?” she said innocently, propping herself up on her elbow. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Not that big of a—” You cut yourself off, running a hand down your face as you tried to process the situation. “You can’t just drop a proposal on me when I’m half-asleep!”

“Why not?” she asked, tilting her head like she genuinely didn’t understand. “I figured you’d be too tired to overthink it, y’know? Just say yes, and we’re good!”

You groaned, flopping back down on the bed. “Jinx, that’s not how this works.”

“Why not?” she repeated, this time leaning over you so her face was inches from yours.

“Because—” You paused, your gaze locking onto hers. Her eyes, so bright and full of mischief, were laced with something softer now. Something real.

“Because it’s a big deal,” you finished quietly.

She didn’t say anything for a moment, just studying you. Then she smiled again, but this time it wasn’t her usual wild grin. It was something smaller, something almost shy.

“It’s not, though,” she said softly. “Not for us. I already know I wanna be with you forever. Figured I’d just make it official, y’know?”

Your heart twisted at her words, and suddenly, the weight of what she was saying hit you all at once.

“Jinx…”

She leaned back, flopping onto her side of the bed with a dramatic sigh. “Fine, fine. We’ll talk about it in the morning,” she said, mimicking your earlier words with a teasing smirk.

But before she could pull away completely, you grabbed her hand, lacing your fingers with hers.

“Ask me again,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

She turned her head to look at you, her brows furrowing. “Huh?”

“Ask me again,” you repeated, your cheeks warming as you met her gaze.

She blinked, then slowly grinned, her mischief returning in full force. “What, right now? While you’re awake this time?”

“Yes, right now,” you said, rolling your eyes but unable to hide the smile tugging at your lips.

She sat up slightly, her free hand reaching out to cup your cheek. Her thumb brushed against your skin as she leaned in, her expression softer than you’d ever seen it.

“Alright,” she said, her voice quieter now. “Will you marry me?”

Your chest tightened, and for a second, you couldn’t speak. All you could do was nod.

“Yeah,” you finally whispered, your voice cracking just a little. “Yeah, I’ll marry you.”

Jinx’s face lit up, and before you could say anything else, she tackled you in a hug, the force of it knocking you both back onto the bed.

“You said yes!” she squealed, burying her face in your neck.

“You didn’t exactly give me a choice,” you teased, laughing as you tried to push her off.

“Shh,” she said, wrapping her arms around you tighter. “Just let me have this moment, alright?”

You sighed, a smile still tugging at your lips as you ran your fingers through her hair. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“And you love me anyway,” she said, her voice muffled against your skin.

“Yeah,” you said softly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “I do.”

For a while, you just lay there, tangled together in the mess of blankets and limbs, the weight of her words sinking in.

“I’m holding you to this, y’know,” she said eventually, her tone light but with a hint of seriousness beneath it.

“You’d better,” you replied, your heart full as you held her close.

The morning would come, and with it, more questions and plans to make. But for now, you were happy to stay like this, wrapped up in her warmth, knowing that your forever had already begun.

I want food

#arcane x reader #arcane x y/n #arcane x you #x reader #x you #jinx #jinx arcane #jinx league of legends #x y/n #jinx lol #jinx x y/n #jinx x reader

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dorabellingham · 3 months ago

Text

La Liga

warning: none

characters: jude x fem!reader

summary: when you're celebrating the la liga trophy, but he's really drunk and keeps asking you to marry him

may contain spelling and translation errors!

It was a party night at the stadium, and Real Madrid had just won the La Liga championship. The team, the fans, everyone was cheering, but no one seemed happier and more relaxed than Jude. He was completely overcome with euphoria, hugging everyone who passed by —players, journalists, staff, it didn't matter who it was, he just wanted to share his happiness.

With a bottle of whisky in one hand and the La Liga trophy in the other, Jude danced and sang as if the world was watching (and it was). His smile was so wide it seemed permanent, and his laugh was contagious. When the background music changed to a lively funk, he wasted no time in starting to dance, with exaggerated steps and movements with the clumsy and fun touch of someone who was clearly a few glasses too many. In the midst of all this joy, he suddenly spotted you, who were there backstage, waiting for the right moment to congratulate him. Jude's eyes shone even brighter when he saw you, and he practically dropped the trophy, walking towards you with a passionate smile.

—BABE!

He shouted from the other side of the field, running towards you and, in the middle of the path, almost tripping over his own legs.

Arriving at your side, he pulled you into a tight hug, the strong smell of whisky in the air. Without letting go of you, he began to speak, the words coming out in a slurred and exaggerated way.

—Y/n, you are... you are the most incredible woman in the world! —He declared, his hands cupping your face adoringly. —Marry me? Please! I love you, I'm crazy about you!

You laughed, trying to keep your composure in front of your clearly drunk husband and the cameras that recorded every second of that moment.

—Jude, we're already married!

You reminded him, trying unsuccessfully to hide your amused smile.

But that didn't seem to make a difference to him. Jude continued with the scene, his eyes shining and his tone of voice rising even higher.

—No, no, babe! I want to marry you again! I need to hear you say ‘yes’!

He pulled one of your hands and, on his knees, began to make a dramatic marriage proposal right there, in the middle of the field, while the reporters around filmed and laughed.

—Y/n, my love! Marry me again, will you? Please?

He begged, reaching out to you, as if it were the first time.

You tried to contain your laughter, shaking your head in denial.

—Honey, no. Come on, get up. We’re already married!

You looked around, noticing that the reporters were absolutely amused by the situation, and gently patted his hand, trying to get him to stand up.

It was then that, to everyone’s shock and surprise, Bellingham, with the expression of a devastated man, began to cry. Yes, cry! He put one hand to his face, covering his eyes, and grabbed the microphone from a reporter standing next to him, his voice cracking.

—I WAS REJECTED! —He announced dramatically, as if he were on stage. —She doesn’t want to marry me! Everyone saw it… she doesn’t love me anymore! —He looked at the microphone and repeated it, so there would be no doubt. —Are you seeing this? My wife doesn’t want to marry me again!

The reporters tried to hide their laughter, some barely able to keep the cameras focused. You, in turn, had your hands on your face, laughing and in disbelief at the show your drunk husband was putting on. You bent down to him, trying to whisper:

—Jude, honey, everyone’s watching! Get up, go…

He ignored you completely, turning to the camera with a martyr’s expression.

—She doesn’t love me, guys. Here I am, winning La Liga, and my wife… rejects me.

He sighed theatrically as the camera focused on his face.

The crowd in the stands, who were already laughing and applauding the scene, began to scream, encouraging Jude. And he, of course, loved the encouragement, raising his fist in the air, as if he were ready to fight for that love right there.

You, still laughing, pulled him by the arm, finally managing to lift him up.

—Come on, you dramatic! Let's go home.

But he seemed unable to let the moment pass. Hugging you tightly, he lifted you in the air, spinning you around as he continued to speak towards the microphone he was still holding.

—I love this woman! She is everything to me. My wife... and the most beautiful of all!

The crowd applauded, and Jude, finally satisfied with the show he had put on, gave you a loud kiss on the cheek and finally handed the microphone back to the reporter, laughing at his own situation.

As they left the field, with his arms around her and his eyes shining, Jude whispered:

—But you’ll marry me again one day, right?

You rolled your eyes, laughing.

—We’re already married, love. Come on, let’s go home before you even ask the trophy to marry you.

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fear-is-truth · 1 month ago

Text

THE ODDS

— THE RECRUITER x gn!reader

warnings : 18+. dead dove do not eat. gunplay. violence. death. dubcon. oral sex (m!receiving) a/n : english is not my first language

the room smells like damp concrete and despair, all condensed in roughly one hundred square feet. you’re on your knees, beside you, the girl—just as nameless to you as you probably are to her—shudders uncontrollably. her breaths are shallow and uneven, and her face is streaked with tears, her cheeks flushed from crying or panic or both.

before you stands a man, impeccably dressed in a black suit, the revolver in his gloved hand catches the yellowish light, glinting ominously. his expression is unnervingly calm—almost amused—as though this is all some kind of game.

which, of course, it is.

“five bullets,” he announces jovially, spinning the cylinder with dramatic flair. the click of the mechanism echoes in the stillness, impossibly deafening. “one empty chamber. one of you walks out. the rules are simple, no?”

you don’t move, can’t even think about moving. your focus is glued to the gun as it catches the weak overhead light. it looks heavy, like it should clatter to the floor, but he handles it effortlessly, as if it’s an extension of himself.

from the corner of your eye, you can see your unnamed companion shaking beside you. the woman lets out a small, strangled whimper. it makes his lips curl upward.

“your odds are… slim, let’s say. but i have a proposal,” with an exaggerated gesture, he holds the revolver up, his index finger poised against the chamber. “i’ll make the odds more… favourable. i’ll remove four bullets.”

both of you freeze, the words taking a moment to sink in.

“excellent.” he slides open the cylinder, plucks out four bullets, and drops them onto the floor with a metallic clatter. he snaps the revolver shut and steps closer to you.

“that leaves just one bullet,” a faint smile. “but there’s a condition. before each turn, you’ll need to show me your gratitude.”

his hand reaches out, tilting your chin upward with a gloved finger. his other hand, the other hand—still gripping the revolver—drifts downward, stopping near his belt. the implication is obscene. he tugged down his fly and stuck his thumb under the waistline of his trousers, pushing down. his cock sprang up and hit his stomach, a bead of precum glistening from the tip.

your stomach twists in revulsion as you lower your face to his crotch. swallowing back the sob welling up from your chest, you lower your lips to him.

cheeks hollowed, pausing occasionally to rove your tongue across the veiny underside before finally taking all of him, suppressing the urge to gag when his tip hit the back of your throat.

tears of pure terror and humiliation sting your vision as you pull back—count that as a blessing, being unable to see that infuriatingly calm smirk of his.

“very good,”

the barrel of the gun presses against your temple, and your body goes rigid, preparing for the inevitable.

click.

beside you, she’s sobbing, shaking her head frantically.

“no… nononono please no…”

the man in the suit sighs good-naturedly before crouching slightly so his face is level with hers. “if you forfeit, you lose the game.” each word carefully enunciated, like he’s explaining to a child. her breath stutters, but after a moment, she leans forward. her lips tremble as she parts them, shaking so violently you think she might collapse. you squeeze your eyes shut, but it doesn’t block out the sounds—her muffled gags, the choked whimpers that make bile crawl up your throat.

then comes the click. hollow. empty

she screams anyway, collapsing forward as if the relief itself has knocked her over. her body convulses, the sobs dissolving into gasping, hysterical laughter.

you should feel something for her relief—for her survival. but instead, disappointment lodges itself deep in your chest, bitter and shameful. it’s not fair, you think, even as guilt claws at you for daring to feel that way.

his gaze locks onto you once more.

“your turn.”

you shut your eyes tighter, willing yourself to be anywhere but here. your movements are robotic as you dip your head, taking him all into your mouth again. your trembling fingers comes to wrap around the base of his shaft to ensure that every inch of him was subjected to the attention you were providing, you established a steady rhythm, jerking him off with both your mouth and hand, a dull ache spreading along your jaw muscles.

as he pulls away, the barrel of the gun finds your temple again.

click.

you gasp, but the sound is drowned by her renewed sobs. the cycle begins again.

your skin feels clammy, your body on edge with every click that isn’t followed by the sound of a bullet.

the fifth round arrives, and it’s your turn again.

the cold barrel presses against your temple, and every muscle in your body locks up. your mind betrays you, conjuring grisly visions of what could come next—neurons obliterated, bone fragments exploding outward, blood vessels snapping like threads.

click.

the silence rings in your ears as glorious relief crashes over you, wild and dizzying. you made it. for the first time in what feels like hours, you think you can breathe again.

but then something changes. the relief curdles into dread. your heart sinks as the realisation strikes: you survived. you.

which means she won’t.

your gaze flickers to her, trembling beside you. she’s staring up at him, her face pale and devoid of hope, her chest rising and falling in shallow, panicked breaths. it’s then you notice it—a warmth seeping against your knee. your stomach churns as you realise she’s wet herself.

the acrid smell hits you and shame burns through you, even though it’s not yours to feel. her body is betraying her completely, and she doesn’t even seem to care. she’s too far gone, staring blankly as the revolver shifts from you to her, the barrel pressing against her temple.

the silence stretches unbearably long, but the gunshot is deafening.

her body crumples to the floor with a sickening thud. the sound is dull, but the sight is anything but. blood pools beneath her head, a dark, glistening red spreading across the concrete. clumps of hair and flecks of brain matter cling to the wall behind.

your face feels warm and wet. you don’t even blink as the realisation hits: it’s her. her blood, her flesh, clinging to your skin.

the man in the suit lowers the gun, his face lit up with a cheerful smile, as if this is all just a game—one he’s delighted to host. splatters of red streak his cheek and the edge of his collar, but he doesn’t seem to notice as he calmly buckles up his trousers.

“congratulations,” he says warmly, offering praise. he holsters the revolver with a flourish.

“you’ve won.”

the words don’t register. you’re still staring at her lifeless body, at the growing pool of crimson that seems to expand endlessly.

tears fall freely as he crouches behind you, the sweet coppery tang of blood, gunpowder and piss filling your senses. the ropes binding your wrists suddenly loosen, falling away with a soft rustle, but your hands remain limp at your sides. he stands up, towering over you, straightening his jacket.

“stand up,” his tone firm but not unkind.

your legs feel like lead, heavy and unresponsive, but somehow, you manage to rise. your knees threaten to buckle, and the world tilts precariously as you sway on unsteady feet. the man watches you with a faint smile, his hands clasped neatly behind his back.

“you’re free to go,”

you stumble toward the door, each step shaky, your body moving on autopilot while your mind lags behind, stuck in the room where everything has just fallen apart. the smell of blood and piss still clings to you, saturating the air, your skin, your soul.

as your hand grazes the exit, you pause, instinct pulling you to glance back.

but the room is empty.

#squid game #the salesman x you #the salesman x reader #squid game season 2 #the recruiter #squid game 2 #the salesman #the recruiter x reader #gong yoo #the recruiter x y/n #the salesman smut #squid game the salesman #gong yoo x reader #squid game fanfic #gong yoo smut #the recruiter smut #squid game x reader

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janeyseymour · 1 month ago

Text

Keep Her Around

Summary: You and Melissa have been married for years, unbeknownst to almost everyone in your life. And when you finally meet the Schemmentis, they only think you're Melissa's girlfriend.

WC: ~3.1k

It’s funny the way that Melissa Schemmenti lives her life. By day, she’s a second grade teacher at Abbott Elementary. By night, she’s out at the bars trying to forget about her problems.

You live life quite similarly. During the day, you’re a first grade teacher at Abbott Elementary. Come night, you’re usually out at a bar trying to decompress after the hectic days that you tend to have with your students.

And then one day, you and your coworker accidentally end up at the same bar.

“What are you doing here?” Melissa asks you as she approaches the stool next to yours.

You sigh and take a sip of your Labatt. “Needed a beer after today. You?”

“God,” the redhead groans when she sees what you’re sipping on. “Why are you drinking that shit when there’s Yuengling on tap?”

“Cheaper,” you sigh.

“By like, ten cents,” your coworker grumbles. “If you’re that broke, let me at least buy you a good beer.”

Melissa buying you one good beer ends up turning into four, and that night ends with the two of you going home together.

Fast forward a few years, and your relationship with the redhead is still relatively hidden. The only person that knows at the school is Barbara. Not even your principal knows because she failed to recognize that when you put in to change your address for your paycheck, it was identical to Melissa’s.

You don’t mind not having the world know about your relationship. Both you and your girlfriend are extremely private people, so it makes sense.

But then you propose, you elope the next weekend with Barbara Howard as your witness, and when you walk into work the following Monday, the rings that sit on your finger just so happen to catch sunlight snd sparkle.

“Woah!” Jacob’s eyes go wide. “Did you- did you get married?!”

You roll your eyes at his dramatics. “Yeah. What’d you do this weekend?”

“No, no, no,” the social studies teacher stammers out. “We are not changing the topic this quick!”

“Jacob,” Barbara groans as she walks into the staff lounge with your wife and Janine. “It is far too early for you to be up in arms about something on a Monday morning. Have mercy on me.”

“Y/N got married!” Jacob gestures to you wildly.

“You did what?” Janine gasps.

“Got married,” you state. “I don’t see why we have to make such a big deal out of-”

Unfortunately for your wife, the same sunbeam that caught your ring catches hers, and Jacob gasps again.

“Melissa! Did you- did you get married too? What the hell is going on here?!” The redhead just nods with a smirk as she holds her left hand up.

“What?” Janine turns to look at her work aunt in shock. “What the hell guys? I didn’t even know either of you were dating, much less engaged to be married!”

“Yeah,” you sigh as you stand to make Melissa her coffee. If the secret is about to come out, you might as well start being the good life partner that you usually are at home. “We didn’t tell no one for a reason. Babe, your usual?”

It takes about a second for your words to sink in for the two nosey teachers that you suppose you call friends. “What?” they both ask incredulously. Then they look to Barbara who just seems amused.

“Aren’t you surprised your best friend hid this from you?”

“I didn’t hide nothin’, lowercase,” your wife snorts.

Barb looks incredibly smug before revealing, “I was their witness.”

“What?” Jacob shouts at the same time that Ava, Gregory, and Mr. Johnson walk into the staff lounge. “Did any of you know that Y/N and Melissa were together, much less that they got married over the weekend?”

“That is news to me,” Gregory states in his usual monotone. Then he lets a smile slip through. “Congratulations.”

“Damn, that means MILF Manor is s possibility for-”

“Enough,” you cut off your boss. “Melissa and I got married, but we’ve been together for years, living together for years. This doesn’t change much in the grand scheme of it all.”

You can tell that Janine is going to argue, but thankfully, the coffee has finished brewing, and you can pour your wife her mug before exiting the room with a roll of your eyes.

Later, Mr. Johnson gives a talking head that he’s been aware of your relationship for quite some time now. He just grins at the cameraman, stating that this isn’t the first time a workplace romance has budded. Then he smirks. “They aren’t the first. No. That was me, all those years ago.”

It’s later that day that you and your wife are laying on the couch watching whatever reality television show Melissa put on. You suppose you should say she’s watching, you’re laying down reading a book. It’s nice that the two of you can sit in a comfortable silence, both doing completely different things while still enjoying each other’s company. The quiet between the two of you is broken when your wife sighs from above you, her hand going to run its way through your hair.

“What is it?” you ask her gently.

The redhead just takes a deep breath again before shrugging. “Nothin’.”

“That’s the loudest nothing I’ve ever heard,” you tease as you sit up and set your book on the coffee table. “What’s on your mind, babe?”

“It’s weird that the crew knows now,” Melissa muses. “But at least now maybe on the rare day that the two of us are actually on the same schedule, we’ll be able to take the same car to work.”

“We always could’ve done that,” you chuckle. “We’re normally the first two in anyway, aside from Mr. Johnson.”

Your wife mulls this thought over in her head before shrugging. “Well, since they know… I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before Janine spills the beans to Kristen Marie.”

“That’s what you’re thinking about?” you ask. “If it’s just that, I can pull mini into my room tomorrow and threaten her life… not that I would do anything, but I know a guy.”

“I’m your guy, dumb ass,” Melissa lets out a belly laugh. “And no, I think… maybe it’s time we tell the Schemmenti family?”

Both brows raise an incredible amount. In all of the years that you’ve been together, the redhead has never mentioned introducing you to her family. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” your wife sighs softly. “I think it’s time I stop being afraid of what my family has to say and just… bite the bullet. And then maybe bite the dust depending on what they have to say to me about us.”

“So dramatic,” you roll your eyes playfully. “My god.”

“You love me for my dramatics remember,” Melissa chuckles. “Would you be open to meetin’ my family?”

You roll your eyes. “Babe, I’ve been ready for years. I was just waiting for you to be ready.”

“I-” your wife hesitates. “I am ready. You deserve to be shown off for the wonderful wife that you are to me.”

And so, a few weeks later, you’re walking into your very first Schemmenti family dinner at Theresa’s house.

“Hi Ma,” your wife smiles that dazzling smile of hers. “This is Y/N, my-”

“Your girlfriend,” Theresa states, arms folded over her chest and giving you quite the judgmental look. It’s very clear where Melissa inherited her traits from.

The redhead goes to cut in and correct her mother, but the matriarch of the Schemmenti household continues. “She told us you were pretty.”

“Thank you?” you smile awkwardly.

Theresa shakes her head. “I didn’t tell you what I thought of you- only what Melissa said.”

“Ma!”

“I’m just stating a fact,” the mother rolls her eyes. “And if you would’ve let me continue, I would’ve said she was correct in saying that.”

“Thank you,” you say with certainty now. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“I do hope I’ll be able to say the same things about you tonight. Come in. You’re the first ones here, but I’m sure the others will be here soon,” Theresa turns and walks in towards the kitchen. “Can’t resist my cooking, the gavones,” she mumbles to herself.

While the matriarch of the family walks away, Melissa goes to follow. You take her gently by the arm to hold her back though.

“She thinks I’m just your girlfriend,” you mumble into your wife’s ear. “What do we do?”

Melissa shrugs. “Maybe we just let her think that for a bit? Let her ease into it? She seems to like you so far.”

“That was her liking me?” you raise a brow as you slip your rings off and into your pocket.

“She didn’t outright tell you to leave, and she told you you were pretty. By Schemmenti standards, she already adores you,” your wife chuckles as she follows your actions. “And she’ll only continue to love you when you work your charm.”

“I don’t have charm, Lis,” you roll your eyes, but you do pull her in for a quick kiss. “I’m a dork.”

“A dork that I love,” Melissa smiles against your lips. “Just be you. Quick witted and sweet. The best of both worlds. And take her up on her offer for wine, and never say no when she asks if you’d like more- at least until your fourth serving.”

“Fourth serving?” your eyes widen. “Babe, I don’t know if I can-”

“I’ll subtly take some of the food off of your plate, but just… trust me?”

With a sigh, you nod. “I guess you know your family better than I do.”

Meeting the rest of the Schemmenti clan is… interesting. All of her siblings have something to say that your wife promises you are them showing that they like you, even if you don’t think so. They have quite an odd dynamic as a family, you must say. As dinner goes on, you would dare to say that they might just tolerate you, but your wife promises you that they are loving you.

And the kids in the family absolutely adore you. Even the youngest baby who won’t go to anybody but her parents finds herself nestled in your arms at one point during the night while she absentmindedly plays with your hair and necklace.

“I don’t know how you just did that,” Melissa mumbles from next to you. Her hand gently cups the side of your head as she pulls you in to kiss your temple. “I’m usually the baby whisperer in this family, and even I can’t get the little bugger to sit with me.”

You just look down at the little girl in your arms. “She’s just a little shy is all,” you mumble as you press a kiss to the top of her head.

Eventually though, your wife’s brother takes back his baby, and you sigh softly. “I just have to use the bathroom,” you tell the redhead quietly. “I’ll be right back.”

Melissa nods with a smile.

“On my way back, do you want another glass of wine?”

“Please,” your wife smiles. “Thanks, hun.”

With that, you head to the restroom upstairs. As soon as your out of sight, Melissa’s family members are staring at her.

“What? I got somethin’ in my teeth?”

“Yeah,” Kristen Marie lies.

“Kristen Marie,” Theresa stops the quarrel before it can even start. “No.”

“Then what, Ma?”

“That girlfriend of yours…” the matriarch starts, and immediately the redhead is ready to defend your honor. When Theresa follows with, “I like her. A lot more than I ever liked Joe, and you ended up married to that stronzo.”

“She’s even good with Sophia,” Marie puts in her opinion.

“And how long of the two of you been together?” Seamus asks.

“Long enough,” Melissa shrugs.

“You plannin’ on keepin’ her around?” Kristen Marie questions. “You know… for a long time? Maybe forever?”

Green eyes twinkle. “Maybe.”

“I think you should consider it,” Theresa suggests. “She fits right in. Pretty, witty, a teacher… she balances you out nicely with her sweetness.”

“I can be sweet too, Ma,” your wife rolls her eyes.

“Oh, you know what I mean,” the mother huffs. “Just… consider it.”

It’s then that you make your way back into the living room with the promised glass of wine for your wife. “What’d I miss?”

“Nothin’,” Melissa mumbles.

“That was the loudest nothin’ I ever heard,” Kristen Marie laughs. “Just teasin’ ol’ red, as usual.”

“I’m not even two years older than you,” your wife grumbles at her sister.

“Still old.”

“Girls,” Theresa cuts in.

It’s a bit later when the two of you bid farewell to the Schemmenti clan with hugs, and you get a kiss on the cheek from Theresa Schemmenti herself.

As soon as you’re in the privacy of your car, Melissa begins to cackle with laughter. You look to her as though she has three heads.

“What’s so funny, babe?”

“They love you!” the redhead continues to wheeze with laughter.

“And that’s funny because…?”

“Hun, they were basically tellin’ me to marry you while you went to the bathroom,” your wife wipes at the tears forming around her eyes.

“Oh,” you break out into a smile, and then you can’t contain your giggles either. “That- that’s hilarious!”

“I can’t with my family sometimes,” the redhead chuckles out as she begins to pull herself together to drive home.

You lace your fingers with your wife’s. But then you remember that you don’t have your rings on again, so you disentangle your hands, slip them back on, and then return to your position. Melissa does the same. “Should we tell them? Or do we just continue to let them think we’re girlfriends until they figure it out?”

“Who knows?” the redhead laughs. “For as smart as we can be, we can also be absolutely oblivious. Why do you think I didn’t realize you had a thing for me for as long as you did?”

“Well, I’m for whatever you think we should do. But I think it’d be hilarious if it got to a point where we had to have a fake wedding to appease them,” you laugh.

“Now that would be something,” Melissa hums. “We never did have a real wedding.” And then she pulls away and heads for home.

Only once the two of you are back at the house does the cameraman interview the two of you.

“Should I have told my family that me an’ my ‘girlfriend’ have been married for years before I let them meet for the first time, or should I just keep trying to slip it in? Because now they’re trying to hint that I should propose, and I’m wondering if it might just be easier to do a fake wedding,” Melissa tells the man. “My wife’s on board because she’s fantastic.” She finishes her spiel with a kiss to your cheek. You can only grin.

It’s about a month later that you head back over to the Schemmenti household for family dinner again. This time, you wear your rings, but the family doesn’t notice- the both of you wear a few rings as it is, so they blend in. When you go to the bathroom again, your wife’s family only continues to ask why she hasn’t asked you to marry you yet, and when is she going to grow the balls.

“If you don’t, I’ll ask her to marry me,” Seamus laughs.

Green eyes stare into his eyes. “Over my dead body.”

When you return from the bathroom with another glass of wine for your wife and settle into her hold, you can’t help but feel how she holds you just the slightest bit tighter.

“Give me your engagement ring, and move your band over to another finger,” Melissa whispers into your ear.

You give her a slightly curious look, but do as told. No sooner is your wife down on one knee asking you to marry her (for the second time). Of course, you agree to marry her. The Schemmenti’s are overjoyed.

And when you get into the car and ask her what that was about, your wife just rolls her eyes. “Seamus said he’d ask you if I didn’t.”

“So, we’re really going through with a fake wedding?” you chuckle.

“We are.”

Four months later, on the anniversary of the actual day that the two of you got married, you hold a fake wedding in your backyard. The Abbott crew and your side of the family know that this is all to appease the Schemmentis, but they’re happy to play along and be there for you since they weren’t at the first one- with the exception of Barbara Howard. The Schemmenti family is thrilled to watch as Melissa gets married, even if it’s unknowingly for the second time.

You do everything by the books. You have an ‘ordained’ minister (Mr. Johnson), best people (Barbara of course serves as Melissa’s while your sister is yours), your father walks you down the makeshift aisle, the little baby that melted your heart the first time you met the Schemmenti side is the flower girl. Vows are said, rings are exchanged, a reception is had. It’s magical.

“You think we should’ve done this the first time?” Melissa asks as the two of you lay in bed later that night.

You just kiss her softly. “I wouldn’t change a thing about our story.”

A year goes by, and the two of you are spending your fifth (first) wedding anniversary together- somehow at a Schemmenti family Sunday dinner. It’s not like you mind or anything- they’re family. And, you had already celebrated just the two of you last night.

After church though, Barbara did drop off a cake to help make this year just the slightest bit more special- five years married is a big deal. The two of you thanked her kindly and then decided that you were going to take it to Theresa’s for dessert.

Only when you open it, there’s a slight hiccup. It’s clear that Barb had intended for the two of you to enjoy this cake in the privacy of your own home. It very clearly reads, “Happy Fifth Wedding Anniversary!” on it. And before you can close the box, Theresa gets a glance at it.

“Fifth?”

Both you and your wife hazard a glance at each other. You’ve just been caught.

“Uh,” you hum softly.

Melissa takes a deep breath before, “Ma, I have a confession…”

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#abbott elementary #abbott elementary fanfiction #abbott elementary fanfic #lisa ann walter #melissa schemmenti fanfic #melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti fanfiction

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wstviewvidal · 2 months ago

Text

prerequisites- w. maximoff

summary: where worlds collide

pairing: rich!wanda x r

a/n: #needthat

next part

minors do not interact

i know you told me not to, but you deserve it. i left something on your porch for this weekend

you open up the text from wanda and can’t help but feel a smile creep onto your face. you two have been texting and calling as much as your schedules allow since valerie’s recital last month.

you two have only had the opportunity to meet up three times since then— each time being for a quick lunch during the work day. the company event that wanda invited you to was on saturday and you had told wanda you were stressing out over what you were going to wear.

wanda, being the sweet woman that she is, told you not to worry about lifting a finger. when she told you this, you couldn’t help but feel somewhat worried— not sure what she meant by that. however, knowing the fact that wanda has yet to make you feel uncomfortable is what brought you the slightest bit of peace.

you get home less than an hour later to a pink rectangular box with a bow on it sitting on your front porch. a small laugh bubbles up and you shake your head slightly in disbelief. you quickly move to unlock the door and open the box.

the first thing you notice is intricate beading and lace as you pull out a black midi length dress from the box. you gape at it for a moment, your heart beating quicker at the thought of her putting thought into getting you this dress.

your phone rings, interrupting your moment. you dig it out of your bag and answer without even looking at the caller ID.

“hi,” wanda says, her voice warm, and you can practically hear her smile through the phone, “did you get my gift?”

you let out a soft laugh and tell her you did, “wanda, you know that you don’t have to buy me these things, right? it looks way too expensive and i hate that i made you spend your money on it,” you pout softly at the idea of wanda going out of her way to even think about spending money on you.

wanda rolls her eyes and twirls a pen in her hand as she sits behind her desk, “nonsense. you didn’t make me do a single thing. you were telling me you were stressing and what kind of a friend would i be if i didn’t at least try to help you out?” a slight grimace covers her face as she calls herself your friend.

truth is, wanda thinks she’s could fall for you. she wouldn’t admit it aloud, but she finds herself thinking about you often. the way you smile when you talk about your niece, the passion and love you have for your career, the way you make her laugh— everything

“still, i can’t accept this gift. you know i don’t like you spending money on me,” you whine softly as you trace the detailing on the dress, “you’ve paid for all the lunches we’ve been on— you never even let me finish offering to pay before you give the waiter your card!”

wanda can hear the whine in your voice and rolls her eyes with a dramatic sigh, “so? i want to pay for you. keep your money so you can spoil your niece, or i’ll spoil her myself.”

you sigh into the phone as she says this— you know she’ll stick to her word about spoiling valerie, “you and that girl love to conspire against me and i hate it. fine, but next time we go out it’s going to be on me.”

you try your best to sound confident and firm, but you know wanda is on the other side of the call trying to hide her snicker.

“okay, whatever you say goes,” you can practically see her teasing smile through the phone as she replies and you can’t stop the feeling of butterflies in your stomach as you listen.

the two of you stay on the call for an hour later, even while wanda is working on her tasks for her company. she goes on to tell you all about how she has to review funding proposals and finalize budget adjustments for a new program she hopes to implement in another school.

you listen to her talk as you prepare your dinner, chiming in when necessary.

“sorry, i’ve been talking at you,” wanda cuts herself off and cringes when she realizes you haven’t said much, “what are you doing?”

wanda tries her best to smooth over and shift the topic back to you. “hush, i love when you tell me about your job. besides, it’s keeping me entertained while i’m making my dinner.”

wanda’s cheeks flush a shade of pink when you tell her that she’s not being bothersome, that you enjoy her company. she goes to respond but is suddenly cut off by a question.

“if i save you a plate, will you come have dinner with me when you get off?”

your body felt cold as soon as you asked that question, almost afraid that wanda would reject the offer. on the other side of the call, wanda was practically jumping for joy at the idea of having dinner with you. a wide grin covered her face and it was almost like wanda had to physically restrict herself from kicking her feet like a lovesick teenager.

she looks at the watch on her wrist and decides she could leave right now if she wanted. after all, she is her own boss.

“if that’s okay with you,” she shyly replies, “i can be at yours in about an hour or maybe less?”

an impossibly large grin covers your face at her reply, “that’s perfect. i can’t wait to see you.”

after you two hang up, the air seems lighter and you both know that the dinner isn’t just a friendly invitation. somehow, you both know that it signifies the potential start of something special.

wanda arrives to your house, true to her word, in less than an hour. she even brought you small bouquet of white roses with a pink bow.

you open the door to wanda standing there with a sheepish grin, a huge contrast to the businesswoman you met last month.

“hi,” her voice low, “i know you said i didn’t need to bring anything, but i didn’t want to come to your house for the first time empty handed. i didn’t want to be rude, especially since—“

wanda rambles and you can’t help but try to hold in a laugh at her nervous demeanor.

“wanda?” you tilt your head slightly with a teasing tone. your lips pursing together in a feeble attempt to contain a laugh.

wanda raises her eyebrows in acknowledgment as she looks at you with a flustered look, “yeah?”

your heart melts at the sight of her clutching the roses and rocking back and forth with an anxious look.

“come inside,” you hold your hand out to her to pull her inside, “your plate is already on the table.”

wanda looks at your outstretched hand, then back up to your eye, almost like she didn’t expect it. she takes your hand and allows you to guide her into your home.

she hands you the flowers with a timid smile, “i wasn’t sure what your favorite flowers were, so i tried to play it safe with roses.”

wanda looks uneasy and it takes everything in you to not let out a laugh, “thank you, wands. you’re so sweet.”

wanda’s heart beats faster at the sound of the nickname and you calling her sweet. she follows after you as you walk towards the kitchen to put the flowers in a vase.

the smell of roasted chicken and mashed potato full the air and you can hear wanda’s stomach growl as she stands near you.

that’s what makes you finally break into a fit of laughter. wanda looks at you sheepishly and apologizes softly.

“no, no,” you giggle softly and guide wanda to the table by the waist, “you need to eat, come on.”

wanda’s heart pounds as you lead her with such casual intimacy. she watches you as you walk back with two glasses, her lips curling into a smile as you set one down in front of her while you glance back at her with a playful expression.

“everything smells amazing,” she looks at the food then up to you again, “did you really make this on your own?”

you laugh softly, “what, you think i can’t cook?”

shaking her head and suppressing an apology, “no, i think you can do anything. this just smells amazing— like it came from a restaurant.”

wanda watches you with an amused expression as you playfully roll your eyes at her compliment. you pour the drinks in hopes that the flush on your face will go away— it doesn’t. wanda gazes at you as you busy yourself with making sure she’s taken care of.

as you two eat dinner together, the conversation flows and you two share jokes and memories. wanda begins talking about her childhood as you listen intently and rest your chin in your hand.

wanda’s infectious smile as she talks about her brother, pietro, is something you’re sure you’ll never be able to forget. she tells you all about how he was always a problem child and she always had to cover for him growing up. you find yourself hanging onto every word that comes out of her lips.

“i mean, i love him and all but, geez, that boy had everyone worried when he’d come home with a scrape on his face,” she shakes her head in disbelief as she recounts stories of him as a teen. you can see the love in her eyes as she talks about life before she became who she is today.

you decide to throw caution to the wind and ask something more personal, “do you think your relationship has changed with your family since you became big in the business world?”

wanda’s breath hitches as you ask that. she looks off into space as she thinks over the question, a small sigh coming from her lips.

“yes and no,” she sounds far off as she’s speaks— you almost regret asking such a question, “i miss my family— the dynamic we had, but i’m also a career woman. i’m lucky to be in the position i’m in, and i’m happy i’m able to provide for my family and give back. i see it as a price i had to pay.”

you nod along as wanda speaks, your hand subtly grazing over the back of her hand as she speaks. you aren’t sure if she wants to continue this conversation, but you allow her to take the rein.

after a few more minutes of wanda speaking about her family, she helps you pick up the table. you’re stood at the sink, ready to begin washing dishes before wanda stands next to you with a curious expression.

“what are you doing?” she goes to grab the sponge from your hand before you look at her with a confused look.

“washing the dishes?” wanda almost laughs at your tone, shaking her head at you. she gently pushes you to the side, “let me do it, you cooked our dinner.”

needless to say, you two both stood side by side washing the dishes together— the smile on your faces never leaving.

wanda turns to you after the last dish is dried with a smile, “thank you for tonight. i can’t remember the last time i had a good meal like that, or such great company for that matter.”

wanda watches in amusement as a blush covers your cheeks and you try to distract yourself. your chest tightens and wanda watches as you fold a dish rag.

turning to face her, your eyes trace over her features— something that makes wanda freeze, “you’re always welcome in my home, wanda. i loved having you here.”

her eyes meet yours, something unreadable behind her eyes as you two look at each other.

“i know tomorrow’s event sounds a little intimidating,” she speaks slowly, choosing her words deliberately, “but i’m really grateful you’re coming with me.”

the gentle reminder of tomorrows event causes your stomach to flip. the thought of being back in wanda’s world— the banquets, the attire, the business talk. it’s all out of the norm for you, a complete 180 from the simple night you two just shared together. however, the gentle way that wanda spoke to you brought you some sort of comfort.

“i’ll be okay as long as i’m with you,” you say gently, looking at wanda with a soft expression that made wanda smile.

her words struck you where she’d hoped they would. she nods softly and brushes her fingers against the back of your palm, her warm fingers leaving goosebumps on your skin.

“it’s getting late, i think i should head out. we have a day ahead of us tomorrow.” wanda says, feeling remorseful that she has to end the night.

you nod solemnly as you begin to walk her to your front door. you open the door, the cool air now tracking inside. wanda turns to you, her eyes sweeping over your face as if memorizing your every detail.

“thank you,” her eyes flicker to your lips for a second too long, then back up to your eyes with a teasing smile, “i hope we can do this again.”

you nod softly and agree, watching her as she mentally battles between wanting to say more and leaving home.

“goodnight, wanda,” your voice came out softer than intended, but wanda loved it the gentleness in your tone.

“goodnight,” she gives you a warm look before walking towards her car and driving off. her adoring presence still felt inside your home.

the following day is filled with anxious thoughts and the overwhelming knowledge of knowing your night will be occupied by wanda. you know that she will be by your side the whole night, but knowing you’ll be in her world for a few hours is what causes your stomach to churn.

over the past few weeks, wanda has brought a sense of warmth to your everyday life that you hadn’t known before. her attentiveness and willingness to help you keeps you growing a liking to her more and more.

but tonight feels different— you’ll be crossing over into her world.

you’re seated at your vanity finishing up your makeup as your hair sets in place when you get a call from wanda. your heart beats a bit faster at the contact picture that takes over your lock screen. you’d taken a picture of her sipping her coffee while looking over the rim at you. her eyes twinkled as she made eye contact with you, and her small smile made brought one of your own over your face— even with nerves boiling in your chest.

“hi, wands,” you put the call on speaker as you grab your dress to put on. the black beading on the bodice catches your eye in the light— a reminder of wanda’s thoughtfulness. you still can’t believe wanda went out of her way to get you a dress like this.

“hi, you,” wanda’s warm voice comes through the call and it immediately coaxes a laugh out of you. “i’ll be at yours in about 20 minutes. do you need me to bring you anything?”

wanda is an incredibly thoughtful person and is always checking up on you— and today is no different. she’s sent you a few texts throughout the day sprinkled with reassurance and care.

“no, ma’am,” you say as you put the dress on, allowing yourself to marvel in its entirety and how perfect it fits. “just need you to get here.”

your voice is light and teasing, and you’re sure wanda can hear.

in fact, she can, and it makes her heart skip a beat. her fingers drum on her steering wheel as she prays the red light turns green. all she can think about is getting to you as quickly as possible.

“as you wish,” her voice softer now. “i’ll be there in two seconds.”

you two hang up and soon you’re walking to your front door fully dressed to accompany wanda’s event. on the other side of the door is a fully nervous business woman who can’t stop messing with her hair and blazer while she waits for you to open the door.

when you finally open the door, she looks up quickly and stiffens just a bit, then smiles widely as she takes the sight of you in.

her eyes rake over you as she takes every detail in— the way the dress hugs your body, the subtle curl of your hair, and the glow of your skin.

“hi,” her eyes travel from the dress up to your eyes, her face visibly turning a shade of pink, unable to stop the smile adorning her face, “you look.. wow. the dress is.. perfect. you’re perfect.”

her compliment makes your cheek burn and you can’t help but try to bite back a shy smile. wanda lets out a small laugh as she notices your bashfulness.

“thank you, wanda. you look beautiful.”

you look over the taller woman’s figure, at the way she looks poised in her well tailored suit. “i love you in suits.”

it was meant to just be a friendly compliment, but she way wanda immediately became shy was something you would pay to see again. her nose scrunches gently and she tries her best to not look you in the eye as she thanks you.

for a moment, you two stand there like giddy teenagers until wanda wanda finally clears her throat, offering you her arm with a nervous laugh.

“shall we?”

you nod as you slip your arm through hers. the soft fabric of her blazer rubbing against your skin somehow grounds you as you take in the moment. wanda gazes at you while she guides you into her car, admiring how your smile has yet to leave your face.

you two sit in the car en route to the event, making small conversation in attempts to ease the nerves that the both of you have.

“how’s my girl?” wanda asks after a few minutes of comfortable silence. you look over at her with a confused expression, eyebrows scrunched together.

she looks at you with an amused look, “i’m talking about valerie.. you know, the tiny little girl with the same dimples as you? the sweet little four year old?” wanda teases you slightly, letting out a little laugh.

you roll your eyes and softly hit her arm that’s resting on the gear shift. “yes, i know my niece. she’s okay, still the same girly girl you met a month ago.”

wanda nods as you catch her up to speed with your niece— and how she keeps asking for her. in fact, it catches wanda off guard but she loves the idea of the little girl asking to see her again. after all, it gives her an excuse to be around you more often.

pulling the car into the valet area, she looks over at you with a grin. you groan, knowing that it only means trouble.

“let me take you and valerie out on a girls date.” her grin widens as she takes your hand in hers, her thrumb brushing over the top of your hand.

your brows raise, and for a moment you’re stunned into silence. the casual way she said it, like blending herself into your world is something she wouldn’t mind, makes your heart flutter.

“thank about it, okay?” she says with a teasing smirk as she gets out and hands the keys to the valet, “let’s just get through tonight first.”

her hand rests on the small of your back as she guides you into the building, the world moving as you walk in.

it’s overwhelming, the glamour of it all. high ceilings with glittering chandeliers, but the polite hum of conversations enveloping you reminds you you’re not alone in this room. everything feels so polished and poised, you’re not in your element.

wanda walks you around, holding some sort of physical contact with you and introduces you to a few of her colleagues. they are all lovely people who enjoy conversing with you about your line of work and passions. slowly but surely, you’re falling into an gentle rhythm— wanda’s hand on your back reminding you that you’re not alone.

she stays close to you and you cling to the warm comfort she brings— the way she looks at you with a soft smile. her steady and warm voice grounds you as she whispers words of reassurance, making the night seem entirely less daunting.

“you’re doing great,” she whispers into your ear as she squeezes your hip gently. somehow throughout the night, wanda ended up with her arm around your waist.

you manage a small smile as you adjust the straps of your dress while you glance over the room, watching everyone mingle with one another. you swallow hard as you take in the people in their tailored suits and effortless fashion.

wanda notices— of course she does. even with business going on, she’s got an eye on you. you’re her priority tonight. she steps closer to you, her fingers grazing your palm easily, a quiet gesture of reassurance.

“i’ve got you,” wanda whispers lowly so just you can hear, “i’m with you, okay?”

your heart aches at her words, you look up at her with a grin— you’re not alone.

before you can even reply, you’re cut off by a voice.

“well, maximoff, you’ve got… unique taste in company,” the sharp voice cuts through you and you immediately want to retreat.

your stomach drops and you hardly have the chance to even react before wanda instinctively pulls you closer.

her expression sharpens, the teasing and comforting energy you’ve grown so accustomed to immediately fades into something more firm and commanding.

“i would be careful if i were you when it comes to speaking about her.” her voice is laced with edge and sharpness.

the woman blinks, taken aback at wanda’s sudden shift in energy. wanda is known to be a firm but understanding boss, so for her to take on a firm authoritative role catches her off guard. wanda doesn’t give her a chance to recover, her posture straightening, a quiet but undeniable authority radiating from her.

“i’d think twice before making comments like that in my presence,” her voice is even, but firm, “don’t forget who signs your checks.”

the woman’s face pales and she blinks rapidly, muttering an apology, but wanda’s state has them taking a few steps back until they disappear into the crowd.

wanda’s hand finds your waist as she pulls you closer into her, her stern expression melting into something softer as she looks at you. “are you okay?” she’s speaking gently to you, her thumb rubbing against the fabric of your dress.

you nod, your stomach churning at the interaction, “i’m sorry, wanda. i didn’t mean to cause any—“

she shakes her head, interrupting you firmly. “don’t apologize for anything. don’t let anyone here make you feel uncomfortable.”

she leans in slightly, “you’re here because i want you here,” her voice holds a sincerity, “let’s step away for a bit, okay?”

you blindly follow wanda as she leads you with a hand on your waist to a more secluded area of the hall. she’s got you sat on a bench outside on a terrace. the lights on the railings add a sense of whimsy to the otherwise overwhelming evening.

“don’t pay attention to her or anyone else in this room.” wanda says as she brushes a strand of hair from your face. you two have yet to take any further steps towards a romantic relationship, but wanda knows you need to ground yourself with physical touch.

she scans your face as you take in her words, her eyes full of worry. “she doesn’t matter, i promise.”

nodding, almost absentmindedly, as wanda speaks to you with sincerity and patience. “thank you, wanda.”

her lips curve into a faint smile as she takes in the way you look up at her with doe eyes, “always.”

for a moment, she lingers and takes in the moment. in the quiet space between you, you realize that wanda isn’t just with you tonight, she’s standing for you.

wanda hesitates a bit before placing a comforting hand on your thigh, getting your attention. “i just..” she takes in a sharp breath, “i can’t lose.. this.”

her voice is quiet and steady, she doesn’t elaborate on what she means. you look at her face, the way you can see her mentally battling between wanting to say more and wanting to keep something to herself.

your chest tightens as you take in her vulnerability. wanda maximoff, the always composed, is now in front of you with a flicker of uncertainty hiding behind her eyes. your heart aches at how small she looks now.

placing a hand on top of hers, you move to where she can see you clearly, “you won’t, i promise.”

she nods, taking in your reassuring words. you rub your thumb over her knuckles in a way to help steady her, a gesture that’s just as comforting to her as it is to you.

she doesn’t say anything more, and neither do you— but in the space between you two, the air seems heavier and laden with something so precious and fragile.

#dirty cash #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x r #noe writes #wanda maximoff x reader #elizabeth olsen #wanda x y/n #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff fanfic #wanda x reader #wanda marvel #wanda x you

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jadeshifting · 2 months ago

Text

— A STUDENT’S GUIDE TO HOGWARTS CLASSES

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔

FOR EVERY CLASS . always sit where you can see (or avoid) the professor’s mood swings. bring a spare quill, and for Merlin’s sake, read all instructions on the board

★⋆. ASTRONOMY

DEALING WITH PROFESSOR SINESTRA . she’s chill if you stay quiet. don’t interrupt her passionate stargazing rants, or she’ll assign extra homework on constellations literally no one’s ever heard of

HOMEWORK . star charts and essays on planetary motion. tedious but straightforward—accuracy is everything.

TIPS TO EXCEL . memorize constellations and learn how to cast Lumos just dim enough so that you don’t blind everyone during late-night pitch black lessons

EXTRA CREDIT . spot and track a rare celestial event, like a comet. (bonus points if you can pronounce its Latin name to Sinestra without choking)

AVOID MISHAPS . never mix up Mars and Mercury on your chart—you’ll be doomed in astronomy and divination

★⋆. CARE OF MAGICAL CREATURES

DEALING WITH PROFESSOR HAGRID . show genuine interest in his creatures, even if they look like they could eat you (because they definitely could)

HOMEWORK . research magical creature habits and write about their care. watch out—he loves long essays (he can basically make students write books about his favorite subject for him)

TIPS TO EXCEL . always wear dragonhide gloves and boots that cover your ankles. treat the creatures and Hagrid with respect—he’ll notice

EXTRA CREDIT . help feed or clean up after the creatures during your free periods or after class. it’s messy, but he appreciates it immeasurably

AVOID MISHAPS . never, ever call a Blast-Ended Skrewt “gross” within his earshot

★⋆. CHARMS

DEALING WITH PROFESSOR FLITWICK . he’s sweet but sharp. pay attention, or you’ll be called on mid-yawn to demonstrate something tricky.

HOMEWORK . practice spells at home. if your wandwork looks like you’re conducting a dance recital, you’re doing it wrong.

TIPS TO EXCEL . focus on precise wand movements and pronunciation—no “swish and flick” means no charm

EXTRA CREDIT . perform an original charm in class and explain how you invented it (hint: slap a name on something flashy, and ramble about how Flitwick’s class gave you the “tools to do it”)

AVOID MISHAPS . don’t use charms on your classmates (no matter how obnoxious they are) unless you want detention for “unsanctioned spellcasting”

★⋆. DEFENSE AGAINST THE DARK ARTS

DEALING WITH THE PROFESSOR . varies wildly year to year. if they’re twitchy, don’t ask questions. if they’re confident, challenge them slightly—they love it

HOMEWORK . spell practice, theoretical essays on defensive strategies, and (sometimes) practical exams.

TIPS TO EXCEL . master shield charms early—Protego is your bread and butter. always watch your back in “surprise” practical tests (the surprise could be a curse aimed at your back)

EXTRA CREDIT . propose new defense tactics for obscure threats like Lethifolds or hinkypunks, it shows interest in the less ‘cool’ aspects of the dark arts

AVOID MISHAPS . don’t hex yourself in class while demonstrating a jinx. you won’t get in trouble. but it’s embarrassing.

★⋆. DIVINATION

DEALING WITH PROFESSOR TRELAWNEY . just nod and act fascinated. she’s happier when you look like you believe her

HOMEWORK . dream journals, tea-leaf sketches, and guesses at what the stars are “telling” you.

TIPS TO EXCEL . make up dramatic predictions that sound poetic. extra marks for impending doom towards a classmate

EXTRA CREDIT . spot a “true vision” (or just pretend you did). a fainting act doesn’t hurt

AVOID MISHAPS . never laugh at her predictions, even if they sound ridiculous—she’ll doom you for life (and you never know what fate holds)

★⋆. HERBOLOGY

DEALING WITH PROFESSOR SPROUT . show some love for plants, and she’ll adore you. don’t sass her or underestimate how dangerous some herbs are

HOMEWORK . care guides for magical plants, essays on uses for their parts, and detailed sketches

TIPS TO EXCEL . be gentle with the plants, even the ones with attitudes. also, if you’re prone to daydreaming, please keep a note of which vines bite

EXTRA CREDIT . cultivate a rare magical plant and present its uses in class (good luck)

AVOID MISHAPS . always wear gloves when handling anything spiky, slimy, or screaming

★⋆. HISTORY OF MAGIC

DEALING WITH PROFESSOR BINS . he doesn’t even care if you’re awake, but it helps if you look like you’re taking notes

HOMEWORK . endless essays on goblin rebellions, giant wars, and other events you’ll most definitely forget by next term

TIPS TO EXCEL . use mnemonic devices to remember key dates. start essays early—he grades on length

EXTRA CREDIT . find obscure historical details to add to essays. mentioning “primary sources” makes you look smart, and Binns doesn’t typically look into it further

AVOID MISHAPS . don’t doodle in your notes too obviously—he might drone on even more if he catches you

★⋆. POTIONS

DEALING WITH PROFESSOR SNAPE . know your ingredients and don’t speak unless spoken to. follow his instructions perfectly and try to look invisible. or he’ll eviscerate you

HOMEWORK . brewing practice and essays on potion theory. if you mess up the potion, he’ll expect twice the length in your essay

TIPS TO EXCEL . re-chop your ingredients before class, and try to do other prep work. Snape hates inefficiency

EXTRA CREDIT . create a new potion under his supervision. (warning: he will make you test it.)

AVOID MISHAPS . don’t ever blame Snape or his instructions if something explodes. just accept it and clean up quietly

★⋆. TRANSFIGURATION

DEALING WITH PROFESSOR MCGONAGALL . she’s strict but fair. do your work well, and she’ll respect you; slack off, and she’ll make you wish you hadn’t

HOMEWORK . spell diagrams, written explanations, and frequent wandwork practice

TIPS TO EXCEL . precision and focus are key. get creative, but don’t try anything too wild without permission

EXTRA CREDIT . demonstrate a flawless human-to-animal transfiguration (with her approval)

AVOID MISHAPS . never let your transfigured objects escape—chasing a hopping teacup through the halls is not fun, and you’ll never hear the end of it

★⋆. ARITHMANCY

DEALING WITH PROFESSOR VECTOR . she’s sharp and no-nonsense, but she’s got a soft spot for students who genuinely try. don’t show up without your charts; she’ll notice

HOMEWORK . endless numerical equations and analysis of magical patterns. expect to translate runes into numbers and vice versa

TIPS TO EXCEL . understand how numbers relate to magic—this isn’t just math, it’s magic theory in disguise. double-check your work; one wrong digit can tank your entire assignment

EXTRA CREDIT . present a new numerological correlation, like how the number “7” might affect potion brewing. bonus if it’s creative but realistic

AVOID MISHAPS . never guess at a solution—Professor Vector will spot laziness in seconds. keep your workspace neat, or the equations will haunt you

★⋆. ANCIENT RUNES

DEALING WITH PROFESSOR BABBLING . she’s patient and incredibly smart, but don’t come to class unprepared. misreading a rune will make her launch into a lecture about “respecting the symbols.”

HOMEWORK . translate ancient texts, decipher rune sequences, and write essays on magical etymology. sometimes includes carving your own runes for practice.

TIPS TO EXCEL . memorize the rune meanings and their magical properties—flashcards help. pay attention to detail; even a tiny line can change the meaning of a rune

EXTRA CREDIT . create your own rune sequence that produces a magical effect and explain its purpose. creative runework always gets top marks

AVOID MISHAPS . don’t mix up Nordic and Celtic runes—they have very different contexts, and Professor Babbling will lecture you for days

★⋆. MUGGLE STUDIES

DEALING WITH PROFESSOR BURBAGE . she’s enthusiastic and loves students who ask questions, even obvious ones. if you show respect for Muggle ingenuity, you’re golden

HOMEWORK . research papers on Muggle inventions and their impact, as well as practical exercises like identifying Muggle objects

TIPS TO EXCEL . don’t overthink it—Muggles live without magic, but they’re surprisingly clever. show curiosity and avoid using the word “primitive”

EXTRA CREDIT . present a Muggle artifact and explain how it works. bonus points if you demonstrate something functional, like a can opener or a bicycle pump

AVOID MISHAPS . don’t call electricity “the Muggle version of Lumos” unless you want a 10-minute tangent about how they’re completely different

★⋆. FLYING

DEALING WITH MADAM HOOCH . she’s strict but fair; listen to her instructions, and she’ll let you have some fun. mess around, and you’ll be grounded faster than you can say “Quidditch”

HOMEWORK . practicing broom control outside of class and writing essays about famous flyers or the mechanics of flight

TIPS TO EXCEL . focus on balance and broom grip—this isn’t about speed (yet). always stretch before class; cramps mid-air are embarrassing and painful

EXTRA CREDIT . show off advanced flying techniques, like tight turns or broom dives (but only if you’re really confident). bonus for clean landings

AVOID MISHAPS . never try to show off in front of the first-years—wobbling on a loop-the-loop is not a good look. keep your broom maintained; a splintered handle spells disaster.

[ there you have it—follow this guide, and you’ll not only pass these classes with flying colors, but you might even look like you know what you’re doing while you’re at it, and maybe you’ll avoid getting hexed by Snape. we’ll see ]

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔

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