#the most impeccable scruff I have ever seen?

[andy-clutterbuck]

[death-in-a-handbasket]

Ooh on the topic of drinking !!

What would Ayatsuji's favorite drink(s) be? Is he a fruity margarita guy or straight vodka

And any other characters you have in mind I love reading your thoughts!!

OOOH OKAY OKAY.

Yukito: liquor and whiskey. more on the sweet side than not but it def burns, takes a bit for him to get drunk but when he does it is the most vulnerable state you’ll ever see him in, doesn’t drink often but might indulge if there’s something worth celebrating, a lot of his alcohol he has on hand ends up as a cooking ingredient

Tsujimura: likes a good tasty martini but prefers harder drinks because she wants to be badass like all the spy women in her favorite works, can both settle down with a good beer and also do straight vodka if she’s feeling bold (relatively low alcohol tolerance though and passes out after the latter) drinks after work sometimes with coworkers from the special division

Ango: mellow drinker, starts off with whiskey and sips it throughout the night, too responsible most of the time to drink past slightly tipsy, his body is mostly comprised of caffeine instead, might put a little alcohol in the coffee to take the edge off sometimes (only if the day is going really bad and it doesn’t work tbh)

Nikolai: could drink paint thinner if he wanted to (he has) gets rowdier and slightly more emotion when drunk but can somehow still function impeccably well even when plastered, he’s just deeply more chaotic LMAO, probably drinks vodka cut with the fruitiest mix on planet earth because this man likes pizazz, alcohol tolerance so deranged no one is sure if he can actually die from alcohol poisoning

Fyodor: doesn’t drink often because he doesn’t want it to impair his mind plus he’s anemic and like 7 pounds soaking wet, it goes right through him like water so he’s fairly lightweight, but if need be he’ll sip on a little vodka throughout a night and go nap after he’s done

Fukuchi: could down a barrel of sake like a boss but the minute he gets drunk old man peepaw is a damn party animal, drinks socially and for sport but it bites him in the ass every time though we know this man gets WHIPLASH fuckin hangovers

Bram: doesn’t want alcohol but doesn’t dislike it either, cannot get drunk by any stretch, mostly just samples shit from time to time for the flavor

Sigma: liquor and wine boy, prefers not to drink but will do it for show while at the casino, can hold his alcohol but prefers not to go past tipsy, a moderate and chill man

Teruko: can outdrink Fukuchi and remain fully lucid on command. everyone is scared of her

Jouno: not much of an alcohol man, will sample a little sake but he doesn’t especially care for it plus his tolerance is super high, passes on drinks most times

Tecchou: can drink his weight in alcohol, has a preference for beer and sake, but instead of getting rowdy in any way he just takes a nap directly afterwards and wakes up normal the next morning with no hangover, no one is quite sure how he does it

Tachihara: more likely to go out drinking with the pm than the hunting dogs, will drink the fancy stuff if need be but he’s a beer man at heart, you can take the scruff off this boy but it’s still there in his heart, slow drinker but once he gets going he’s super happy and rowdy as shit, not immune to doing shots, helps balance out Chuuya’s bitchiness at times

Hirotsu: old fashioned whiskey man, sips on it throughout the night but never gets drunk, the most sober man drinking in the bar tbh, mostly does it to relax, the guy there to keep Chuuya from being a total dick

Chuuya: a wine guy as we all know, starts out slow and savoring it but then gets emotional and pissy and start downing the damn glass, prone to being an angry drunk and yelling like a little bitch before getting shepherded home

Mori: has seen his fair share of alcohols in his time but prefers to remain sober

Verlaine: likes white wine and vodka, also gets angry tipsy and will judge the quality like a megacunt, no one likes to drink with him

Ranpo: prefers not to drink as he despises most alcohol tastes but can be persuaded into amaretto with how much it tastes like candy, gets loud and affectionate when drunk, will call you an idiot and pass out on your arm

Dazai: will try and drink any and every alcohol, can remain entirely lucid no matter what he’s ingested but he loves acting drunk and passing out anyways for the experience and also to be inconvenient for some people (Kunikida)

Fukuzawa: sake enjoyer, doesn’t drink often but drinks slow and steady, high alcohol tolerance, rarely gets drunk

Yosano: wine lover, gets loud and rowdy when drunk, is a social drinker but also samples different kinds of wine in her free time just to judge the flavors

Higuchi: doesn’t drink often but might mellow out and get sad over a beer or whiskey

Oda: drinks slowly and methodically throughout the night, also a beer or whiskey man, prefers to mostly take in the ambiance of the bar than the experience of the alcohol, might get buzzed but hasn’t taken it much further than there

Francis: drinks socially and mostly champagne, gets more energetic and egotistical the more alcohol enters his body, will spend money on progressively stupider shit as the event goes on because he has no sense of consequences while drunk

Sober gang:

Atsushi: low alcohol tolerance and lowkey kind of scared

Akutagawa: he coughs every time because it burns his throat, could have a decent alcohol tolerance if he wanted to but his body can’t take it

Mushitarou: despises being drunk and hates the taste

Poe: too scared to do it

Nathanial: to religious to do it

Gin: not really her thing

Lucy: could hold her own if she wanted to but she hates the way alcohol makes people act and prefers to pass on it

Kunikida: designated driver and wouldn’t touch alcohol because it violates his ideals

Tanizaki: also too scared to do it but if Naomi was allowed she’d get tipsy for fun

Lovecraft: alcohol has net zero effect on him so he simply Doesn’t

—

THIS WAS SO FUN y’all feel free to request any of your faves I forgot 🙏

[datleggy]

i’m not sure if this is a good prompt but i’d love to see something based off of jealous eddie in the new episode. established relationship with buck reassuring him about how he and taylor are just good friends. maybe getting together with a first kiss. i love all your work, but don’t feel like you need to write this if it doesn’t spark anything. thank you!

so i haven’t had a chance to watch the new episode yet, but i’ve seen gifs of jealous!eddie and it’s given me life lmao so here we go 

Taylor is at the station...again. And that’s fine. Totally fine, Eddie tells himself over and over in his head, as he watches Buck moon over the reporter. 

A week ago Eddie was content with his life and everyone’s place in it. Or so he thought, until he realized exactly why he was so bothered by Taylors presence at the station. All thanks to Chimney and his extraordinarily large mouth. 

Eddie huffs, annoyed just thinking about it. He’d been in the locker room after a long shift, and Buck had run in and changed faster than lightning, barely taking the time to tie his shoelaces. Eddie had asked if he wanted to come over and grab a beer, maybe play some video games with him and Christopher, but Buck had politely declined. “Sorry man, I’ve got plans with Taylor, she’s waiting outside for me. I’ll see you guys Monday! Bye!” He’d waved and sped out of the station before Eddie could so much as think of an appropriate response. 

Chim had laughed and said something that had most definitely struck a nerve, whether he’d intended it to or not. “Hey, cheer up, there’s other fish in the sea.” 

And Eddie had thought in that instance: But I don’t want anyone else. 

The very next day he’d broken things off with Ana. She’d been more confused than anything, initially, wondering if maybe she’d done something wrong, which had prompted Eddie to spill his guts to her about these decidedly romantic feelings he’s been harboring for his best friend. 

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize, not until last night, or I wouldn’t have dragged you into this, I just--” He’d tried to explain, tongue tied and at a loss. Ana was perfect, after all. Intelligent, a self possessed woman with ambition, good humor; she got along just swell with Christopher, and she was gorgeous to boot. But... 

“Hey,” Ana had taken one of his hands into her own and squeezed gently, comfortingly. “So...this sucks. Because I really do like you Edmundo. A lot. But I am glad you were able to sort your feelings out. I know--especially growing up in a Hispanic household--how difficult it can be to come to that kind of conclusion. Have you...told him, yet?” 

Eddie had shaken his head no, “Um, actually? You’re the first person I’ve told.” 

That had come as a huge surprise to Ana, who, though heartbroken, had still offered a listening ear and a shoulder to cry on, in the future. 

Now, a week later, Eddie still hasn’t said a single word of this to anyone else. Not to Hen or Chim, not to his Captain--though sometimes the way Bobby looks over at him makes Eddie think the man knows something--and most definitely not to Buck himself. 

Instead, he departs from the crew, shoulders stiff, irritation spiking, and makes his way to the bunks. Which is where Buck finds him a few minutes later, sulking. 

“You ok?” 

Eddie’s head swivels towards the entrance and he can’t help but frown at the tall figure standing there. It’s all Bucks fault, with the way his hair goes poofy with strawberry curls when it’s humid outside and those dumb contagious too-wide smiles of his and that look on his face when he gets hyped whenever he gets a chance to share any of the million factoids he’s learned--all of it makes Eddie want to rush up to him and kiss his stupid face. 

“Eddie?” And suddenly said face is right in front of his, just inches away, and Buck is waving a concerned hand in front of him. “Earth to Eddie, you alright?” 

Eddie blinks and quickly backs away, nearly falling off the other side of the bed, if not for the fact that Buck springs into action, one long arm going around Eddie’s back and holding him upright.

Now they’re impossibly close and Buck is staring at him all wide eyed and breathing kind of funny and Eddie is swaying forward ever so slightly, not breaking eye contact. He’s not sure what it is he’s doing, except that his hand is now caressing the side of Buck’s face and Buck is leaning into it and Eddie's tilting his head to the side and then their lips are meeting at the middle and Eddie can only describe the feeling as sparks of electricity bursting in his chest.

It's only when they finally pull away that reality comes crashing back down around Eddie and white hot panic sets in. "Shit! Shit, I'm sorry. I--that wasn't supposed to--I mean--" he covers his face with the hand that had been cradling Buck's cheek not five seconds ago and it's warm and butterflies flutter around in his belly.

Buck sits back on the bunk and clears his throat, "Um, I thought you and Ana were..."

Eddie looks up instantly, "No, no, we broke it off last week. Or, I guess I did..."

Buck nods. "Oh."

Eddie slides his sweaty palms across his pants and looks away, nervous. "I didn't mean to kiss you." Not when he knows Buck is dating Taylor. Not when she's literally in the other fucking room. Jesus Christ what is he even doing?

If Eddie were looking he would see the hurt that flashes across Buck's face for a split second before he's able to school his expression. "Right. Yeah." He lets out a faint impression of his usually boisterous laughter. "Who wants to be a rebound, right?" And then he's up and gone.

There's a tension hanging in the air between Buck and Eddie after the incident and no matter how badly Eddie tries to pretend it's not there it lingers.

It's Friday night when Eddie rallies and asks Buck out for a beer. Christopher is at his aunt's for the night and it's been a while since the last time they hung out together, just the two of them, so he figures it’s worth a shot. 

He’s in the middle of asking Buck to go to a bar with him when who but none other than Taylor pops out from behind Buck, making the two of them jump. She tilts her head back and laughs at their expressions of surprise and Eddie wants to gag at how impeccably pretty she is with all that long red hair and those pumps on her feet that make her legs look like they go for miles. 

“I got bored of waiting for you in the lot, c’mon, happy hour’s almost over.” she bumps her shoulder into his playfully and Eddie watches heartbroken as Buck gives her one of his charming megawatt grins. Taylor notices him staring and smiles politely. “Hey firefighter Diaz, didn’t see you there--we’re gonna’ hit Bahama Mama, you should come with us.” 

Eddie tries to decline the invite but Taylor is relentless and despite his protests, he finds himself at the counter, ordering drinks next to Taylor, fifteen minutes later. He hates small talk, and apparently so does Taylor, because the moment Buck steps away to go to the restroom she turns to Eddie with her razor sharp stare and says, “So I heard you kissed Buck the other day and tried to do a little take back, huh?” 

Eddie wants to glare at her and tell her to mind her business but this is her business, and he’s the one in the wrong here, not Taylor, and so instead of lashing out he bites his tongue and apologizes. 

Taylor blinks. “What? Why are you saying that to me? It’s Buck you should be apologizing to. I’m not the one who’s heart you’re playing games with.” she snaps. 

“What? What are you talking about? Look, I’m trying to say sorry here--I kissed him in the heat of the moment, and I want to say I wasn’t thinking straight but the truth is I’ve been in love with him for longer than I can admit but I know you two are dating and I know I overstepped, that wasn’t my intention at all so I just--” 

“We’re not dating...” 

Startled, Eddie turns around to face Buck, who’s standing behind him, having heard a good portion of that conversation. “What.” 

“Is that why you said that? That you didn’t mean to kiss me? Because you thought Taylor and I were going out?” Buck can’t help but sound hopeful, gulping when it takes Eddie a moment to answer. 

“You’re really not dating?” Eddie breathes out. 

Buck shakes his head. “We’re just friends.” 

It’s quiet for a moment before Taylor decides to break the silence. “So...I’m gonna go get us another round and let you two geniuses figure this out.” 

As soon as she’s out of ear shot Buck sits down across from Eddie and both men try to speak simultaneously. “Oh, sorry, no, you go first.” Buck insists. 

Eddie twiddles his thumbs and bites his lip. “How much of that did you hear, exactly?” 

Buck’s heart pounds in his chest like a drum. “Uh, I think I walked up to the part where you told her you’re in love...with me? And for the record, I--you know, I--” Buck stumbles over his confession. “I’m in love with you. Too.” 

“Jesus, Buck,” Eddie leans over the table precariously and holds Bucks face in his hands, not giving a damn about the fact that they’re in a crowded bar. “Are you serious?” 

Buck nods softly and the scruff of his five o’clock shadow gently scratches the palms of his hand and Eddie can’t get over how much he likes that feeling. He could hold Buck like this forever. “Can I kiss you?” 

“Please.” Eddie lets Buck take the lead this time, digs his hands into those blonde curls as Buck twists a hand in his shirt and pulls him even closer. 

Taylor finds them making out like teenagers in the corner of the bar twenty minutes later and pats herself on the back for a job well done. It’s about time those two idiots figured it out. 

.

a/n anon i loved ur prompt <3 thanku! 

[ficsnroses]

Put Your Head On My Shoulder - John Wick x Reader

Some soft John fluff. Enjoy! :) 

Word Count : 2652

Warnings : None!

Summary :  Reader falls asleep on John’ chest, however, he’s too kind and gentle to wake her.

A/N : I will use this gif 100 times he’s so  p r e t t y 

As John scrambled around his living room, tidying up the spare couch cushions and scattered remotes, he finds himself growing more nervous than initially intended. Should he light a candle? Dim the lights? How much was too much? He hadn’t done this in years, he was definitely out of practice. His heart hadn’t planned on falling this solid, this fast for Y/N, but he did. And there was no undoing it, no going back from here.

Finding new love may just be one of the purest feelings on the planet. It’s hard to find another experience that makes you feel so hopeful, so cheerful, so happy with the course of life. You begin to find joy in all the little things around you, begin to see yourself in new ways. Falling in love, even the simplest drink of water tastes as if maple syrup, tapped from the finest maple tree, the smallest glance their way bringing the light of a million stars, twinkling in your eyes, nothing in the universe seeming more seamlessly, more flawlessly crafted, than them.

He didn’t believe in love at first sight, it was a concept too perfect. Too faultless, impeccable, a dire contrast to the life he had lived, the things he’d seen thus far. He didn’t think the sin he lived deserved to find happiness, the awful deeds that defined him would never truly erase. They’d always linger, glooming around him, following him to the depths of everything he did, everything he tried to be.

But when Y/N walked into his life, he didn’t think he’d ever be able to see her walk out. She’d gave him the normalcy he so desperately tried to seek, everywhere. Something about her was so inviting, so wholesome. He truly felt she was the first to see the good in him, the man who so desperately wanted to be free from who he had been. A man who wanted not to be remembered by the gruel things his life had succumbed to, whenever, wherever, he inevitably fades away.

Y/N and John were still quite new, still adjusting to the feeling of having each other around, feeling each other in the most unique of bonds. They were still getting used to each other, but one thing they knew, was that they’d keep each other around for a long, long time.

John tried his best to keep his thoughts, his feelings at bay, scared they’d overtake him too soon. But he had already pictured a future with Y/N, the perfect life he’d craved, the life he’d chased. He wanted it all, the white picket fence, the loyal dog, the boy born before the girl, so he could protect his sister from all harm that may threaten her way. The love he didn’t get before; the companionship he’d never received. He wanted it all, with her.

As he smoothed out the lines on the sofas, and made sure each thing was exactly in place, he ran a hand over his slightly sweat coated forehead. It wasn’t as if this was his first date with Y/N, it was far from that actually. They’d been seeing each other for around three months now, making an effort to talk to each other every single day, whether it was just a small text asking how their day was going, or a full blown conversation about things they hadn’t discovered about each other yet. He’d took her out to romantic evenings in the city, she loved the way the lights glimmered in evening air. He’d take her to the park, where they read books together under his favourite oak tree. He’d taken her on long, destination-less drives, where he’d hold her hand as she leaned her head out the window, taking in all the beautiful coastal sights, letting her know he’s close.

However, he’d never properly invited her over for a day in. He had been to her apartment a few times, popping in just to see her gorgeous face. But she had only ever seen his house once, the day she’d come to drop off some goodies she’d baked for him. She didn’t stay long that day, he was due for a job in the city next to town.

This was the first time she’d come to spend time with him in his setting. She’d get to see him in the place he was most vulnerable, the same place he’d spent countless nights lonesome. He had forgot how it felt to have someone else there with him, someone else’s voice to echo in the gray corridors of his not-so-humble abode.

The doorbell ringing sent butterflies quivering through his stomach. She was finally here.

He found himself taking a look at his appearance in the full body mirror by the entrance doorway. He’d never cared much about the way he’d looked before, sometimes letting the scruff of his beard grow wild in all directions. But now, he had someone to look good for. Someone to keep his beard trimmed spick and span for, someone to lather cologne onto his skin for. He straightens out his shirt and jeans, running a hand through his hair. He made sure to ruffle it a little bit, just the way she likes it.

With a finally content sigh, he glides open the bulky wooden door. There she stands, stunning as ever, her hair falling perfectly over her shoulders. The sun had been hitting her seamless skin in all the right places, she looked divine. John may have just felt his breath hitch momentarily at the sight of her. A big smile casts itself on his face, as he brings his arms up to wrap around her waist, pulling her in.

“Hi,” John beams, staring right at her lips. She’s brought her arms around his neck, getting on her tippy toes to reach his lips. They kiss briefly, both grinning into each other’s delicate, tender lips.

“Hi,” she says back. “You look really handsome today. Lucky me.” She grins, gently grazing her thumb over his cheek. John knew he must have blushed three shades deeper in a vibrant pink. There’s no one else that could manage to have this effect on him.

“You look beautiful, Y/N. As always.”

“I didn’t think we we’re going anywhere, so I didn’t dress up too much. I hope this is okay.” She glances down at her attire. She’s got on an oversized sweater and some jeans.

“It’s perfect. We’re not going anywhere, I thought we could watch a movie or something, make lunch at home?” John proposes, as she steps in and he closes the door behind her. Down the hallway, the sound of Dog’s collar rattling comes closer and closer, finding Y/N and John. Dog had met Y/N before a few times. When John took her out to the park on a date, or for a walk around the city, he’d bring Dog along.

“Hi baby, how are you today?” Y/N coos, leaning down to pet him. Y/N and Dog were quite fond of each other already, seeing them together, getting along made John’s heart so warm each time. She would buy Dog new toys often, much to John’s dismay. “He doesn’t need more toys than he already has, Y/N.” John would argue. “But he’s such a good boy!” she’d insist.

--

After brewing some fresh tea for the both of them, John and Y/N sit at the kitchen counter, talking. As they grip their respective mugs in hand, every now and then, their fingers touch each other’s skin, their hands fiddle together. They could talk to each other for hours, if time allowed them. John had never had such an easy time investing himself in someone else before, opening up to anyone else. But Y/N made him feel safe. He knew each thought; each word his lips spoke would be welcomed by her generous heart. She had such an aura to her, so alluring. He could never harm her, despite all the violence that laid on his fingertips, and he knew she’d never harm him.

“So what kinda movie you wanna watch?” John asks, leading her to the living room, where he may or may not have had a minor nervous breakdown before she arrived.

“Oh, anything works for me. Whatever you want.” She smiles, setting herself down on the couch, innocently folding her hands in her lap.

“Hmm, okay. Let’s see what’s on then?” John says, flipping through the channels. When they finally settle on a comedy, John places himself beside her on the couch, close enough so that their legs and shoulders are touching. John was a little out of practice to the whole…relationship thing. It had been so long since he had been in love, or even felt love for someone. He knew he wanted to hold her, but was that okay? That is what lovers do…right? Or did she just want space? John didn’t know what was the appropriate thing to do was. Should he just hold her hand, as they usually did?

As he pulls a knitted blanket from the side of the couch, he drapes it over the both of them. This was okay. He turns his head to see her smiling at him. He almost felt as if she was waiting for something. For him to do something. With a wave of confidence cast over him, he takes her smaller, softer hand in his, entwining both their fingers. She looks down at their connected hands, the way her hand has basically disappeared in his. She chuckles lightly, her lovely voice filling his ears. “You know, I don’t bite, John.”

John is almost awestruck, watching how comfortable she is around him, and in his home. He watches in admiration, as she lightly kisses his shoulder, before leaning her head on his bicep. She brings her arms to wrap around his arm that is holding her hand, tucking herself in. John loves every second of it, her holding onto him, proving to him that she trusts him, she feels safe around him. It may not have been a big deal to most people, but to John, having someone so close, knowing they’re not scared, was so special. It meant the world to him.

John wasn’t hesitant anymore. He slightly shifts his arm, moving it out of her grasp. She lifts her head, brows furrowing as she’s confused. She’s nervous now, did he not want to be held so close? Had she invaded his personal space, gone too far? She swallows lightly, scared she ruined the moment. But when John brings his arm to wrap around her, pulling her into his chest, she feels the smile creep onto her lips once again. John wanted to hold her closer. He kisses the top of her hair as she tucks her head onto his chest, her eyes reverting back to the screen. John brings his other spare hand to connect with her hand once again. They hear Dog pad into the room, waltzing in a few circles before setting himself at John’s feet, for a nap. This was perfect.

--

“This guys a complete idiot. Who even does anything remotely like that?” John huffs, staring intently at the screen. “I would feel stupid even writing this character on script.” John chuckles. However, when Y/N doesn’t reply, he questions why.

“Y/N? Darling?” John’s chest rumbles as he speaks, his coarse voice filling the room. When Y/N doesn’t reply, John leans his head forward, looking down at her.

She’s fallen asleep on his chest.

John felt butterflies in his stomach for the possibly 90th time that day. Here was the woman of his dreams, asleep, right on him. She felt secure enough, protected enough to doze off. John only holds her tighter, moving the hair that’s fallen in her eyes behind her ears, pressing his lips to her temple. She looked so precious. If he wasn’t sure of it before, he was definitely sure of it now. He was in love with her, and he didn’t think he’d be able to keep from telling her for much longer.

John tries not to stir; he didn’t want to wake her. He’d stay there all day, holding her, giving her a place to rest if he needed to.

Minutes go by, turning into an hour, an hour and a half…and so on. The movie has long finished, and John’s arm has fallen asleep a few times. He’s growing a little uncomfortable, but there’s no way he’s going to wake her. For her, he feels he could endure any pain. This was nothing. He keeps her in place, soothingly rubbing her back every now and then, embedding kisses in her head as his heart desires. Life seemed pretty darn good in this moment.

--

Eventually, two hours in, Y/N’s eyes snap open, as she gently flutters her eyelashes, getting used to the light surrounding. She’s in John living room still, but where’s John? She stirs, before realizing, he’s under her, as his right arm is wrapped around her, and his left hand is holding hers securely, still. She notices John must have pulled the blanket up to drape over her as she slept. He was so considerate.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry. Did I fall asleep on you?” she questions, voice quiet, as she sits up, looking at him.

“Yeah, actually. About 30 minutes in to the movie.” John smiles.

“How long was I out?” she scratches her head. Her hair is tousled, right on the side that had rested on John’s chest.

“Well, the movie finished about an hour ago.” John chuckles. Y/N’s eyes grow wide, and she gasps lightly.

“John, why didn’t you wake me up! We were supposed to spend time together.” She frowns. “I’m so sorry.” She sighs, rubbing her forehead. “John, you look like you haven’t moved an inch…did you stay like that the entire time?”

“Yeah, I guess.” He says, scratching the back of his head.

Y/N’s eyes grow gloomy, and she feels horrible. “Oh my gosh, baby, you must be so stiff. I’m sorry.” She says, touching his shoulder.

“I’m okay. I couldn’t bring myself to wake you. I really liked it, though.” He smiles, staring into her eyes. As he moves his arm, however, he can’t help but wince at the sudden movement.

“John, please tell me you’re okay.” She grabs his arm, concerned.

“I’m all good, angel.”

Her expression suddenly moves from concerned, to a light, pink hue to blush over her cheeks. Her smile reaches all the way up to her eyes, and they sparkle. “John, did you really just sit still for two hours, just so that I could have a nap?”

John shrugs, unable to hide his dreamy smile. Y/N’s heart grows warm this time, in awe at the man in front of her. This amazing, remarkable, compassionate, gentle, dream of a man. She couldn’t believe how lucky she had fallen to find him, to have him walk into her life, and become such a big part of it so quick.

She brings one of her arms to entwine with his once again, leaning forward, to cup his bearded cheek with the other. She stares at his lips first, and then into his earthy, espresso eyes.

“You’re a good man, John.” She says sincerely, placing a loving, admiration and respect filled kiss onto his cheek. “A really, really good man.” She kisses the corner of his mouth this time.

John can’t help it, the moment is perfect, and she’s so close. They’re so connected in this moment, its picture-perfect.

“I think I’m falling in love with you.” He breaths, close to her lips, barely above a whisper. 

“I know I’ve fallen in love with you.” She assures, his cheek still resting in her hand, her thumb grazing the skin under his eye, as she connects their lips, in a searing, honey drenched kiss 

*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•* 

[meowmeow-motherfucker]

New York, New York Chapter 1

Summary: After a chance meeting at an interview, Tom becomes involved with a woman while in New York filming the Avengers. 

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston/OFC

Read it on AO3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1504970/chapters/3178469

    Anna took a deep calming breath as she watched the set in front of her. She was in downtown New York in Rockefeller Center, waiting anxiously for her cue to step on set. She had been completely at ease until she’d arrived at the studio to see none other than Tom Hiddleston chatting with Matt Lauer. Tom Hiddleston was as much the imaginary love of her life as he was the bane of her existence. The charming Brit had fueled her fantasies for over a year, ever since the release of the first Thor film. To know that he was in the same room as her made her feel extremely exposed and as skittish as a colt, even though the man had no way of knowing the effect he had on her. Anna had vowed to not give herself away…though she wasn’t sure how long that would last if the those damn blue eyes didn’t stop flicking in her direction. He’s just curious, nothing more. Anna almost laughed aloud at the idea that Tom would be interested in her. He’s here to do an interview, nothing more. Get a grip Anna, it’s not like he’s going to lock eyes with you and decide he has to chase after you. That only happens in movies. Damn it, why can’t my life be a movie? Anna sighed as she listened to Tom’s voice as he spoke to Matt, waiting for the next commercial break and his portion of the interview to begin. Anna took the opportunity to bury her head in her notes, pretending to go over them to avoid the temptation of gawking at the Brit. Only a small segment remained before Tom would take the stage and just after that, Anna would follow. Why couldn’t they have them come on separately? She could probably handle the idea of him watching her offset much better than sitting across from the man. Why, why, why?! Curse you, universe!

    “Good morning,” that velvet voice greeted her, jarring her discombobulated brain back into focus. Thoroughly startled, she couldn’t help but stare at the man. Dressed impeccably in a black three piece suit and black and blue striped tie with his ginger hair swept back off his face, he was a lovely sight amidst the dreary studio set. “I’m Tom.” He offered a dazzling smile and his hand which Anna accepted with a small smile, doing her best to remember what words were. Collecting herself, she quickly pulled off her glasses and shoved them into her purse before taking his hand.

    “Good morning,” she managed, returning the smile. “I’m Anna.”

    “Yes, you’re the therapist. My publicist keeps me well informed.” Tom gave another smile at her astounded look. He knew her work? Oh lord, this just got ten times worse.

    “As he should,” Anna laughed lightly. “Knowledge is power after all.”

    “Truest words I know,” Tom echoed her laugh with his own. Hearing his ebullient ‘ehehehe’ in countless interviews couldn’t have prepared her for hearing it from right beside her. It was absolutely adorable, and utterly devastating to her well-being. And he was ginger! She loved that look on him. It did unspeakable things to her, and the scruff on his strong jaw was decidedly not helping. Damn him. “Are you nervous?” his voice pulled her from her silent assessment of him, catching her off guard again.

    “A little,” Anna admitted. “I’ve done plenty of web interviews for the book, but I’ve never been on national television.”

    “Ah,” Tom nodded politely as a man gestured for him. It was nearly time for his segment of their joint interview. “It’s not so bad. Excuse me.” He winked at her as he strode off confidently to be outfitted with his mike. Anna looked away, determined not to gawk. He’d winked at her! It was nothing Anna, don’t get worked up over it. He’s just trying to help me feel better.

    When Tom had arrived at the studio, he’d known only that the woman appearing with him was a sex therapist promoting her new book. Luke had been able to provide him with a modicum of information on the doctor, namely her impressive resume. Her resume paled in comparison when he had seen her across the room. Tall and lithe, Doctor Anna Fowler was far from what he’d imagined in his mind. He’d expected some middle-aged woman with glasses and a knitted sweater in a ghastly purple. But the reality was welcome, and quite attractive as he spied her nibbling daintily on a triangle of toast from the catering table. She’s adorable. She appeared nervous, or at the very least distracted. Letting his eyes drift back to the anchorman he was supposed to be listening to, he tried to ignore the siren across the room. How was he supposed to listen to her talk about sex and not turn into a doddering idiot? Luke must be torturing me for something. Once Matt had taken his leave, he fished his phone from his pocket and sent a quick text to his publicist, knowing he would be awake. His phone vibrated immediately, and he smiled to himself as he unlocked the device.

    *No Tom, I am not torturing you. Why do you ask?* Tom snorted to himself as he considered Luke’s reply. Maybe he hadn’t known the woman was young and beautiful.

    *She’s bloody gorgeous, you sod. I swear you did this on purpose.* He pocketed his phone once again, looking over at Doctor Fowler again. Her brown hair hung down to her shoulder blades, pulled back from her face in a loose bun with tendrils framing her face. He did a quick once over, eyeing her athletic form with hungry eyes. His phone vibrating pulled him from his gawking and after glancing around the room nonchalantly, he opened his new message.

        *The therapist?* was the simple reply.

        *Yes the therapist, who else? She could pass for a naughty librarian, and I have to listen to her talk about God knows what without embarrassing myself. It’s not fair.* Ok, maybe he was overreacting a bit. But he was a hot-blooded single male in the presence of a beautiful woman. There were no excuses to be made for him at times like this.

        *Tom I’m not interested in what you think about in your free time, but try to focus okay? Interview first, shameless flirting after.* Tom scoffed, tapping out a quick response.

        *I’m just trying to give you a heads up in case I make a fool of myself.* Tom didn’t have to wait long for a response.

        *Stop making dirty jokes and focus on why you’re there. I didn’t book this interview so you could drool over a woman.* Tom sighed and put his phone away in frustration. His segment was rapidly approaching and he knew she was meant to follow him. Maybe if he talked to her first he could get somewhat comfortable with her before things got…undoubtedly weird. He glanced over at the doctor who was engrossed in her notes, a pair of reading glasses perched on her button nose. Gritting his teeth, Tom dove for his phone, seeking distraction of any kind.

        *SHE EVEN HAS GLASSES LUKE* he felt better after sending the message, looking anywhere in the room but at the woman. His phone vibrated in his hand and he checked it immediately.

        *Bet you’re wishing she was an old woman in a purple sweater aren’t you?* Luke’s sarcastic tone was not lost on Tom, who was indeed wishing this cruel prank would end and the real Doctor Fowler would appear. But that wasn’t going to happen, and he needed to prepare himself for the inevitable. *Just talk to her. You’re overthinking things.* Luke’s new text advised him. Right. He could do this. Tucking his phone away, he made his way over to her and greeted her casually. She jumped slightly before she turned to look at him, pulling her glasses off her nose and tucking them into her purse before taking his outstretched hand.

     “Good morning. I’m Anna.” She returned his smile, making his nerves flutter.

     “Yes, you’re the therapist. My publicist keeps me well informed.” He said smoothly. The hell he does, the bloody wanker.

     “As he should,” Anna gave a soft laugh. “Knowledge is power after all.” She gave a cheeky grin and he had to return it.

     “Truest words I know,” he laughed with her, captivated by her quiet charms. “Are you nervous?” He asked, wanting to put both her and himself at ease. He hoped upon hope she didn’t discuss anything graphic; if she did his public image would most likely be shot to hell.

     “A little,” Anna admitted noncommittally. “I’ve done plenty of web interviews for the book, but I’ve never been on national television.”

     “Ah,” Tom nodded politely as a man gestured for him. His time with Anna was over. “It’s not so bad. Excuse me.” In a bold move, he winked at her as he strode off to the sound technician to attach a mike to his shirt. Anna watched on with interest as Tom walked onto the set, confidence clear in his gait. He answered Matt and Kate’s questions with ease, completely comfortable in the moment. Damn him. Then again this is probably his millionth and a half interview. She was about to retreat to the bathroom to collect her nerves (for the twentieth time) when a techie flagged her across the room to pin her mike on her shirt. So much for that… The show cut to commercial and Anna’s blood pressure sky rocketed. She felt like she was walking to her doom; in a matter of minutes she would be face to face with Tom god-damn Hiddleston talking about BDSM relationships. Could there be anything more embarrassing?! Oh god, I need a drink…I knew I should have put vodka in my water bottle.

     “This way miss. We’re ready for you.” The sound technician said, ushering her toward the set and her plush arm chair as Matt and Tom were laughing about something. “We’re back on two.” The technician said, retreating from the set and giving a thumbs up to the cameraman. Oh god, two minutes! Oooohmyyyygoooood…ok Anna, you can do this. Just breathe! Everything will be fine-holy hell why is the cameraman counting?! Has it been two minutes already?!

     “Please welcome our next guest, Doctor Anna Fowler.” Matt introduced her and Anna took a deep breath as her first national television appearance started. Sitting in the same room as Tom Hiddleston was not helping. She felt like her insides were made of J-ello, just because she knew he was watching her with interest. Don’t do anything stupid, don’t do anything stupid. “Doctor Fowler is a sex therapist here in New York and author of her first book, Full Exposure: Opening Up to Sexual Creativity and Erotic Expression. As you all know, the practice of BDSM is under fire by many people calling this kind of expression degrading. Doctor Fowler, can you explain this subculture to us? What exactly does it mean to be involved in a BDSM exchange?” Fuck, here we go. Can’t believe I’m talking about this in front of my go-to fantasy guy. Why did I ever think it was a good idea to become a sex therapist?

     “BDSM encompasses a variety of erotic practices involving dominance and submission, role-playing, restraint, and other interpersonal dynamics. Many people engage in BDSM behaviors without even realizing it. Given the wide range of practices, inclusion in the BDSM community is usually dependent on self-identification and shared experience. Interest in BDSM can range from one-time experimentation to a lifestyle, and there is debate over whether a BDSM or kink sexual identity also constitutes a form of sexual orientation.” Anna made the mistake of letting her eyes drift away from Matt and Katie to Tom, who sat with his back straight and his eyes at rapt attention on her. And his fucking legs splayed open. As usual.

     “So when you say wide range of practices…what all does that include?” Katie asked, drawing Anna away from Tom’s hypnotizing eyes.

     “The three main aspects of the culture are bondage and discipline, dominance and submission, and sadism and masochism. A person might identify chiefly with one aspect, but that’s not to say they don’t enjoy bits and pieces from another. Everyone identifies differently, and the majority of BDSM communities are very open and accepting of this fact.” Anna answered.

     “So there are no set definitions.” Tom spoke up, looking up from her breasts as Anna looked back at him. He really didn’t want to be caught ogling her, even though he could swear he’d caught her ogling him. Now that she was under the bright lighting of the set, he was able to see her much better. She was truly beautiful, there was no denying that. He could see the red tint in her hair now. Her warm amber eyes drew him in and those damn legs and breasts of hers made it extremely difficult to focus. Her stylish clothing accentuated her curvy physique, from the black leather high heeled boots that enclosed her calves, the black pants that clung to her skin, all the way up to the deep blue top she wore. The sleek material gave off a metallic sheen under the set lighting, and the color offset her skin tone perfectly. The sleeves she’d rolled up and buttoned, exposing her soft forearms, which made him want to see more. The collar she’d left unbuttoned, along with the top two buttons, so he could just barely see the tantalizing beginnings of cleavage.

      “Correct,” Anna graced him with a smile and he returned it happily, enjoying the glow her smile brought to her face. “The precise definition of roles and self-identification is a common subject of debate within the communities. For example, in the Dom/sub aspect, people who fluctuate from the dominant to submissive role are known as switches, but a lot of people within the community find the term derogatory. It puts too simple a label on something much more complex.”

      “As I said, there are some groups that are saying this kind of behavior is barbaric and degrading, especially for women who identify as submissives.” Matt said. Anna chuckled at that; how backwards.

      “Not at all; those women make the choice to allow someone, whether it’s a male or female, to dominate them,” she smiled cryptically. “These people, while not necessarily female, do in fact give their consent to a person they trust to take care of them. Consent is the backbone of the BDSM community. Without consent, that is where you get into barbarism. There have been recent studies that show people involved in a BDSM lifestyle to be less likely to commit violent crimes than say…a man who has had no involvement in that lifestyle. What we derive from this data is that people involved in BDSM practices are able to act out their darker urges in a safe environment, with a willing participant. Everything is based on mutual trust, just like any other relationship.”

      “Within the book, there is a chapter where you touch on the best-selling novel Fifty Shades of Grey and I have to say I was rather surprised by your opinion on the work.” Katie said.

      “Ah yes,” Anna gave a light chuckle, lightly scratching her face. “E. L. James and I are not on the best of terms, suffice to say.” She replied.

      “Having read the book I already know the answer, but can you explain to our viewers why you took such a strong stance against the books?” Katie asked.

      “E. L. James did not give her readers an accurate representation of a BDSM relationship. In her novel, the exchange is controlled by Christian Grey. Anastasia is extremely innocent, especially concerning BDSM experiences. I was disturbed by the fact that Christian sort of lulled her into the world of BDSM; it can be extremely overwhelming and it’s something you should ease into.” Anna said firmly.

      “The pair did actually ‘set limits’ as you said a couple should. What exactly was it that you disagreed with?” Matt asked.

      “The thing we have to keep in mind is that limits are the same as rules. Some are flexible, some are not. Soft limits are the rules you’re willing to bend. Hard limits are non-negotiable,” Anna shook her head. “In Fifty Shades of Grey, both Christian and Anastasia set their limits; they even signed a contract to that effect. Yet almost immediately, Christian showed an utter lack of disregard for Anastasia’s hard limits when he pushed her to do what he wanted. This is not an accurate portrayal and only fuels the fire against BDSM practices,” Anna sighed. “Contrary to what people might think, in a BDSM exchange-especially in a D/s partnership, the submissive holds all the power. On the surface, these interactions appear to be putting the submissive down, but this isn’t true,” Anna shook her head. “In truth, while the submissive gives his or her dominant power over them, the dominant can only act within certain parameters that they and the submissive have worked out beforehand.”

      “So you could say that the dominant is a caregiver of sorts.” Matt summarized.

      “In a way, yes. The dominant is a provider. They know what their partner needs and are happy to take care of those needs, and they do have the freedom to choose the way they do so as long as they stay within their predetermined boundaries. Christian Grey is not a good example of a dominant because he is constantly pushing Anastasia to do what he wants.”

      “But in the later books, Christian did take very good care of Anastasia.” Katie pointed out.

      “To an extent, yes, but we need to examine his behavior as a whole. Christian is very controlling and possessive of Anastasia, which are usually seen as red flags in any relationship. He comes from a tragic past so he does feel that need to control everything around him, especially women; all of which resemble his birth mother in some fashion. Any psychologist would tell you that this is not the type of person you would want to be involved with. People with those sort of issues rarely have healthy relationships.” Anna said firmly.

      “What type of person would make the best dominant? Is there a certain type of personality or trait that they all share?” Tom asked, regaining Anna’s attention. He could swear he saw a faint blush along her cheekbones, and his inner self grinned like a Cheshire cat.

      “The best dominants are very sympathetic, sensitive people. It’s very important that the dominant is in sync with their submissive in order to take of their needs,” Anna explained. “Whereas controlling and apathetic individuals are very ill-suited for the dominant role.”

      “Can I ask how you identify?” Tom asked, his tone slightly shy. He was pushing her, he knew, but he was burning with curiosity.

      “Guess.” Anna requested, meeting his gaze levelly. He gave a smile, and Anna could swear she melted inside.

      “Are you the dominant one?” he asked, intrigued by the faint rise of color on her cheeks.

      “Only if you ask very, very nicely,” Anna grinned, allowing a hint of mischief to color her eyes. “I’m actually a submissive.”

      “So how exactly does that work?” Katie asked. “Specifically, what all does a dominant do?”

      “It varies from person to person really…there’s a sliding scale, so it can range from being only slightly controlling to completely controlling, say…what your submissive is allowed to wear in public or how they can wear their hair.”

      “Would you be willing to give a small demonstration? Nothing too explicit, just to give us kind of an idea of what the dynamic is like.” Matt said. Anna was shocked by the request, her brain crashing to a stop at the idea of Tom seeing her like that.

      “Um…I didn’t bring anyone with me…” she started. Once again she mistakenly looked directly at Tom, whose eyes had darkened just a touch. “Normally I wouldn’t do anything like that with someone I didn’t know, but I guess I could make an exception,” Tom stared at her in awe, equally startled by her gall and turned on. Don’t do it, Tom. Don’t say anything…

      “I don’t know much about it, but I could try.” he offered semi-awkwardly, inwardly cursing himself as he spoke. Why the hell did he have to open his mouth? Fuck, Luke is going to be furious. Across from him, Anna was having an internal panic attack and nearly killing herself to seem calm on the outside. OHMYGODOHMYGODTOMFUCKINGHIDDLESTONWANTS TODOMINATEMEOHMYGODYOUIDIOTSAYYES!!!!! NONONONONONO!! NOTONTVYOUSTUPIDFUCK!! OHMYGODSAYSOMETHING!! Anna cleared her throat, trying not to squirm as desire lanced her core, already imagining what was about to happen.

      “Ok, so um…” Anna struggled to extract words from her panic and desire swamped brain. Keep it together, Anna. Do NOT embarrass yourself in front of Tom Hiddleston! “So normally,” Anna attempted to begin her explanation as she did her best to seem natural and not like her insides had turned to what she imagined a star felt like before it exploded. “Before anything happened,” she took a deep composing breath. You can do this! You can talk about sex with Tom Hiddleston like a normal, functioning adult…that hasn’t gotten off to thoughts of him a million plus times…not to mention your near instant orgasm when you watched The Deep Blue Sea and saw practically all of him naked. Hnn… “Tom and I would have a discussion about what is and isn’t okay, we would each be able to set our limits; I would tell him what I’m comfortable with,” Anything… “And he would tell me what he’s comfortable doing.” Oh honey, you can do anything you fucking want to me.

      “So Tom will have total control.” Matt said. OHMYGODYESPLEASE!!!

      “Yes,” Anna replied. “The submissive doesn’t do anything unless they’re told. In some cases the submissive isn’t allowed to speak unless the dominant says they can.” she glanced over at Tom, who was regarding her pensively. HOLYFUCKINGSHITTHATLOOKI’DKILLTOKNOWWHATHE’STHINKINGRIGHTNOW!!! Tom watched Anna unabashedly, taking note of the small squirms that seemingly went unnoticed by Matt and Katie. She was enjoying this! Nervous as he was about being in such tricky territory, he was curious to see how this would play out. What is going through her head right now? Glancing at Matt and Katie, he realized he should probably take control-of Anna- and the situation.

      “I just have a few more questions for you-”

      “Anna,” Tom said, interrupting Katie’s tangent. Anna’s eyes flickered to his, and he could see that her pupils were dilated and gave a small smirk. You can do this, Tom. It’s just a role…with a gorgeous woman who will probably do whatever I tell her. Fuck. He held up his hand and beckoned her with a finger. “Come,” Anna swallowed, making no move to get up as her eyes bored into his. OHMYGODIT’SSTARTINGFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKINGFUCK Tom raised a brow at her, showing impatience, and Anna held her breath as she got to her feet and crossed to his side of the room, stopping in front of him. Tom realized she was waiting for him to give her another command, so he told her to turn around. “On your knees.” he said smoothly, watching as Anna complied. When she’d sat back on her haunches at his feet, he leaned forward and threaded his fingers through her loose hair, pulling her head back slightly when he’d fisted a handful of the auburn locks, and Anna’s core throbbed headily. OHGODPLEASEPULLHARDER… As if he’d read her mind, Tom tightened his grip on her hair and as she felt the minute sting in her scalp she allowed her eyes to slip closed for a brief moment and she swallowed, trying to control her rapidly rising heart rate. Tom felt like he was having an out-of-body experience as he looked down at Anna with her eyes closed, his eyes following the movement of muscles down her throat as she swallowed. To have this beautiful woman at his feet, under his hand…and enjoying it? His cock twitched in his lap, thankfully hidden in this position. Maybe if I-No no no no no! Shut up brain! Don’t even think about it.

      “Um…back to my question: you don’t find the idea of being controlled demeaning?” Katie asked, clearing her throat and dragging Tom’s attention away from Anna for a brief second before he looked back at her. Anna’s warm honey eyes shot up to his, asking permission to speak. He gave it with a subtle nod, turning her head slightly so she looked at Katie.

      “Not if it’s by someone I trust. This instance is different because I don’t know Tom personally, but by giving permission a submissive gives their dominant free reign over their will. That’s not something anyone should give lightly; there need to be rules in place, and both partners need to know what they are and are not okay with. Consent and safety are the most important things.”

      “What about the people who call BDSM abuse? What would you say to them?”

      “A healthy BDSM relationship is completely consensual. In an abusive relationship, the victim has no say, no control over what is done to them. There is no direct connection between BDSM and abuse…” Anna trailed off as Tom’s hand flexed, slightly tightening his hold on her hair and making her scalp tingle. Hnn…

      “Anna.” Tom cajoled her softly, snapping her back to reality. His hold loosened and she was able to focus again.

      “Right, sorry,” Anna flushed, smiling embarrassedly. “If we look at the psychology of both BDSM participants and abuse survivors there are major differences. The submissive is able to opt out if things get to be too much for them, whereas a victim of abuse has no say.”

      “Well, thank you very much for being with us, Doctor Fowler, Mr. Hiddleston; that’s all the time we have for today.” Katie said.

      “Have a good day everyone, and we’ll see you tomorrow morning.” Matt signed off and the camera man gave the cut off sign. Tom released his hold on Anna’s hair and offered her his hand to help her to her feet. Anna didn’t meet his eyes, but accepted his hand as she stood up. Did I do something wrong? Anna made a beeline off stage, stopping at the small reception table and grabbing a bottle of water. Tom followed, still intrigued by this woman, coming to a stop next to her at the table.

      “You seem flustered.” he said without preamble, causing Anna to nearly choke on her sip of water.

      “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t.” she replied honestly with a coughing laugh, daintily dabbing away a droplet of water on her lip with the pad of her finger.

      “I hope I didn’t do anything wrong.” he offered, breathing a small sigh of relief when Anna shook her head.

      “No, no, nothing like that.” she assured him with a small smile.

      “Oh good; I’ve never done anything remotely like that before.” Tom smiled and Anna gave a faint laugh, resting her hand on the table. Tom’s eyes jumped to the surface, which was level with her hips. Perfect height…shut up!

      “Could’ve fooled me,” Anna said, getting his mind out of the gutter. “You just kinda ran with it, I’m impressed.” Tom shrugged, pinning her with a playful look.

      “That’s what actors do,” he teased, his eyes darkening slightly. “We’re very good at reading people.” he added, and Anna knew she’d been caught. He knew. He must have seen her checking him out. Fuck! Now what do I do? Wait…he enjoyed it too! He’s been staring at me since I came on set! Two can play at this game…

      “So are therapists,” she said cordially, grinning when he looked taken aback. “I was thinking of going for an early lunch, would you like to join me?” she offered boldly. OH GOD I just asked Tom Hiddleston out!!

      “Um…” Tom checked his watch, brightening when he realized he had nearly three hours to kill before he needed to be at the airport. “I have some time to kill…what did you have in mind?” You could bend me over the table and fuck me senseless…

     “Does the Carnegie deli sound good? It’s not far from here,” Anna suggested, mentally slapping herself as more dirty thoughts ran rampant through her brain. No suggesting you straddle his face…or Loki roleplaying! Oh god, I honestly might die of embarrassment… Tom grinned when he noticed a slow blush covering Anna’s cheeks. What was she thinking about? Did she really enjoy having her hair pulled that much?

[speed-reiding]

Genuine Admiration

A/N: I’ve envisioned writing this as a series/long form for a long time but finally sat down to do it. Let me know if you have an idea for the title of the series. This is just chapter one.

Y/N had known she wanted to leave Connecticut for Washington, DC since she was 9 years old and learned about the government for the very first time. She had only applied to schools in the DC area and was thrilled with her acceptances to a few. She happily traded her large, well-decorated, private bedroom in her parents’ home for, first, a shared dorm room in college and then, when she continued at the same university for her masters degree, a small studio near the university’s campus. She loved it because no matter how little space she had or how much of her neighbors’ conversations she could hear through the thin walls, she was in DC. 

And of course, there was one thing DC had that Connecticut could never compare to: Dr. Spencer Reid. The young professor had 3 PhDs and worked for the Behavioral Analysis Unit (BAU) of the FBI. While that meant he often had to miss a class or two a semester, his team was usually great about letting him assist remotely. He was the best professor Y/N had ever had. 

Y/N had taken her first of Dr. Reid's classes during her first semester of her senior year of college. Accidentally. She had had to drop a class that conflicted with a required course and she needed another one if she was going to graduate on time. Enter International Criminal Law, a class that sounded fascinating and fit her international relations curriculum- even if criminal law had not been her particular area of interest at the time. That class had drawn her in immediately and had shaped her graduate school applications.

Dr. Reid was brilliant. It didn’t hurt that he was easy on the eyes as well. He always wore formal clothing- usually a jacket and slacks. He also had a beautiful, warm smile, kind eyes that displayed his emotions and- well his body was slim but muscular. His voice was soft but commanding; when Dr. Reid spoke, everybody hung on his every word. 

Naturally, Dr. Reid’s classes were not easy; he expected a lot from his students- a lot of reading, a lot of preparation for debates and discussions and a lot of application on his exams. He didn’t just care that his students could regurgitate information, but rather would be able to apply them to various situations and create solutions- or at least think them through. This meant that his classes started out at full capacity- due to his name, profession and reputation- but about a quarter of the class dropped out during the add/drop period. Dr. Reid seemed to enjoy weeding out those unwilling to work. Y/N liked the challenge.

Y/N had aced her first class with Dr. Reid, unbeknownst to her getting his attention in more ways than one. When she had approached him to write a letter of recommendation to the same university’s graduate program- one that he primarily taught in- he had agreed readily. When Y/N had showed up in International Human Rights Law the following semester, Dr. Reid had noticed as well. Y/N had thanked Dr. Reid with a beautifully hand-written card and a small gift- a small porcelain elephant that resembled one he had mentioned losing in passing. She didn’t know he had followed up with her application and had noted that she would be attending as a member of the graduate school class.

Y/N knew that most of Dr. Reid’s female students tried to flirt with him and expected that they would one day garner his affections. She knew of one specific student who’d had to leave the class after inappropriately offering the professor her contact information and an idea that she would happily perform for him should he raise her grade. She liked Dr. Reid more for not only not accepting such an offer, but for kicking the girl out of the class. While Y/N was not so delusional as to think the professor would ever play hot-for-teacher with her, she hated the idea of him spreading anyone else over his beautiful mahogany desk. 

God, she needed to get laid. Problem was, she wasn’t interested in just sex. She never had been, really; Y/N was a relationship or single person through and through. While this called for many ‘lonely’ months, she never felt the emptiness or regret her friends seemed to when a one night stand proved his intentions to be just that.  

Now, it was the first day of her first semester of graduate school and Y/N was getting ready for Dr. Reid’s class. She was taking 3 classes in total, while vying for a teaching assistant position and working at the university’s writing lab. She couldn’t deny that she was putting in more effort than she would for either of her other classes, but tried to justify it as a first day of class thing, instead of a Dr. Reid thing. She settled on a tasteful raspberry dress with short sleeves and a scoop neck that hit a couple inches above her knee paired with brown ballet flats. It was simple and didn’t look like she had tried too hard. She spent an extra few minutes blow-drying and tousling her dark hair- which had grown significantly longer over the summer- and spritzing on a little musky vanilla perfume. 

Checking her watch, Y/N realized she had less time than she had imagined and entered Room 211 with only a few minutes to spare that Tuesday evening. She chose a seat in the center of the second row of the small room and took out a notebook and pen. She much preferred paper to computer notes, especially when notes were only about conversation. Dr. Reid provided an outline template of all his notes as he believed attendance to be a personal choice for regularly scheduled lectures.

She was the only one in the room until Dr. Reid walked in. He was dressed impeccably- in a dark grey suit with a lilac shirt underneath. His hair was longer than it had been too, and less clean. He had a little bit of scruff on his face. Damn it, he was ever better looking now. He removed his jacket almost instantly and hung it on the back of the chair in the front of the room. Was Y/N making it up or was he giving her a once over.

“Good afternoon Y/N,” Dr. Reid said pleasantly and Y/N glanced over at Dr. Reid, figuring she had definitely been making it up in her head. 

“Hello, Dr. Reid! How was your summer?” she responded with a smile that Dr. Reid immediately returned. He took a moment to answer though. 

“It was lovely, thank you. How was yours?” he finally responded. In his own head, Reid had panicked for a moment. How could he say that he had spent all summer distracted by thoughts of Y/N in his head and that the time had passed painfully slowly as he had just been waiting for this day to see her again. How could he mention that he had spent the whole summer dragging his then-boyfriend to places that Y/N might be, just so that they might run into her, even though that’s where the plan ended. It sounded thoroughly un-genius of him and it had also probably cost him his relationship. How could he tell her that he didn’t mind that his now-ex, Jason, had noticed his odd behavior, given him an ultimatum and, eventually, left. That was not before class conversation. 

“It was relatively monotonous,” Y/N responded, “I was an intern at a small NGO and worked crazy hours. They were significantly understaffed. I think they may have held onto the hope that I’d push back grad school to stay on full-time but alas.”

“Definitely their loss, but I’m happy you chose to return,” Dr. Reid said before he could stop himself. By this time, the other 20 or so students had arrived to the seminar- Y/N supposed no one would actually miss the first day. She was surprised to see Ronnie, a girl she had met during a pre-college program, in the room and made a mental note to catch up with her. 

With that, Dr. Reid started the class. It was engaging as ever, though he spent the beginning discussing the syllabus, work load and expecations. As Y/N was used to, fear struck the eyes of some around her, but she supposed since it was graduate school, fewer than usual seemed likely to actually drop the class.

---

Y/N stared at her screen in surprise. She had, in fact, been chosen as a teaching assistant for an undergraduate course this semester. The class, however, was a writing-intensive course- all undergrads had to take two in their disciplines- so the class was capped at 20 students. And the professor was no other than Dr. Spencer Reid. Since the class met twice a week- Monday and Wednesday- she would be spending three days a week in the presense of Dr. Reid.

Y/N couldn’t deny how excited she was for it, but she was definitely confused. She had been in talks with the coordinator to serve as one of six TAs in a 200 person introduction to international relations course. In that setting, she would have had to lead her own weekly session and deal with freshmen. Now, her students would be primarily upperclassmen and her workload would be more intense, but less annoying. And the pay was higher. How had that happened?

Dr. Spencer Reid would not have admitted it if you asked him, but he had lobbied hard for Y/N as his TA when he’d seen the list. The first problem was that he hadn’t requested a TA- preferring to do his grading and teaching alone. The next had been that Y/N had already been assigned a class. The final problem had been the potential conflict of interest, which was quickly negated by assurances that Y/N had been his top pupil two semesters in a row and that all of his grading was completely blind. Nevertheless, Dr. Reid knew he was owed more than one favor and called that into play. One intense email thread later, it was confirmed. Even as the pull made itself more obvious, he refused to admit how he felt about Y/N. 

At their first “introduction” meeting in the TA coordinator’s office, Y/N was told- according to Dr. Reid’s instruction- that a scheduling conflict had changed her role. It was the following Monday, the week before the undergraduates would flood campus again. He had justified it to the coordinator as a means to take the pressure off the TA, and the lie sold easily. Y/N just shrugged.

“Sure you won’t get sick of me, Professor?” Y/N sing-songed as the meeting ended and they were packing up. The coordinator had left swiftly to attend another introductory meeting. 

“Sure you won’t get sick of me?” Dr. Reid shot back, mentally kicking himself for how flirtatious he must have sounded, “oh and Y/N?”

“Yes, Dr. Reid?” 

“You can call me Spencer now that we’ll be working together, Y/N,” Spencer said.

“Well then, Spencer, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Ah, but in that class, you can call me Dr. Reid,” Spencer laughed, raising his eyebrows. 

“Gladly, Spencer,” and with that, Y/N was off. Spencer wondered if he had scared her away but in reality, she sped off to stop herself from anymore foolish flirting. She was not about to get her heartbroken because she was making up signs of reciprocity. There was no way her brilliant, modelesque professor was interested in her. 

---

“There’s no way she’s interested, Morgan,” Spencer said over a beer with his BAU colleagues. They weren’t travelling that week but had gathered at a bar to catch up and unwind. 

“What makes you say that Pretty professor?” Derek Morgan smirked at his new nickname while JJ and Prentiss rolled their eyes. 

“She has this innocent, pragmatic way about her. Not the type to fall for a rousse, but she’ll believe the best in you unless you show her otherwise. She is truly the most beautiful person I’ve ever known”.

“Spence, you know I’m the last person to encourage sleeping with a student,” JJ started, and Spencer’s face fell, “but you never spoke this way about Jason. I know you were enamoured when you met him and I know you trusted in him, but you never talked about him like this. I think this girl is special.”

“Yeah, it’s been a long time since I’ve seen a lovesick Spencer Reid puddle. It’s not a good look. Tell her how you feel,” Prentiss insisted, “and also, do a shot with me!”

And so the night continued like that, Spencer wallowing and taking a drink every time he did. Soon, however, the others had to head home. Spencer, renting a place nearer to campus now, had far shorter of a commute and found himself sitting alone in a booth until past midnight, just dreaming that Y/N would walk in. Around midnight, he paid his tab and poured himself into a cab. Luckily he didn’t have work until his evening class the next day because he knew he would be waking up to a headache. 

The real surprise came when he arrived home, made it to the lobby and the elevator opened to reveal a startlingly under-dressed Y/N. She wore short black flowy shorts, a tank top that exposed her midriff -without a bra- and her beautiful long, dark hair was piled on her head. For a moment, Spencer thought he must be imagining the entire thing, but Y/N appeared equally as surprised. “Dr. Reid! Uh, Spencer, what are you doing here?” she asked, subtly trying to use her arms to cover her exposed middle. 

“I, I live in this building,” Spencer said, glad he’d switched to seltzer once he was alone. He knew he looked tired but at least he wasn’t really drunk. “So do I,” Y/N said simply, “hold the elevator?”

Confused, Spencer did as he was told as Y/N dashed out. He told himself his eyes didn’t go straight to her ass but who was he kidding. He swallowed, mouth suddenly dry. Another minute later, Y/N was back in the elevator carrying a pizza box. 

“Late night cravings,” she smiled, blushing a little, “I’ve gotten a bit off schedule these days. Working into the night, sleeping in, you know?” Spencer could just picture it. He selected the button for the top floor where he lived, and Y/N reached across him to select the floor just below his own. Spencer wondered if the elevator always felt quite so warm.

“Yeah, happens to me all the time when I teach graduate school and work is slow,” he managed to get out, trying not to stare directly at her body. Y/N nodded and looked up at him. She must have sensed his lust and admiration for her, because she unwittingly drew her bottom lip into her mouth and rolled it between her teeth. Spencer must have been a touch drunker than he realized, because his eyes followed her lips like they were glued to them. Damn she was gorgeous.

“Oh screw it,” he heard himself say. Her eyes widened as he closed the gap between them, arm slinking around her waist. She stood on her tip-toes to meet his lips with her own. Then, they were kissing- all lips and tongues crashing into one other as they drew each other closer and closer in. And they stayed that way until the elevator reached his floor.

[ripplestitchskein]

His Brightest Star Was You - a missing Wish!Realm scene

AN: This wouldn’t leave my brain so I had to write it. For @acrobat-elle who I love a lot. I’ve been wanting to write you something forever and this is a gift for keeping it real about this episode and just generally being awesome and lovely. I hope you like it darling.

Word Count: 1198 

ON AO3

_____

Even if the man sprawled, open mouthed and snoring on the bed before her was only barely recognizable, a grim shadow of the man she knew, Emma took comfort in the fact that his home was for the most part unchanged. He always took impeccable care of his ship, even if the same couldn’t always be said of himself.

There were new books lining the mantle, a few things replaced or slightly off from the Jolly she knew, but the feel of the vessel, the warmth and care shown on the spotlessly clean deck, in the tidy and efficient cabin, everything arranged just so, was exactly the same.

Emma laid his sword carefully on the table, and looked around, finally feeling some measure of peace in the day’s recent chaos. The palace she had called home here wasn’t a world she knew, the years of growing up there, of her marriage, and raising her son in the endless echoing corridors, elaborate balls and parties, were familiar in the way dreams are, intangible, fleeting, curling and fading around the edges with every moment after the dawn.

This ship however, she knew this ship.

She had lain sated and warm on those sheets. Had made love on it’s decks under the stars and the light of the moon. Had laughed, and eaten with a man this Killian would never have the chance to be, at the very table his sword now sat upon. Grilled cheese and onion rings pilfered from his plate were more real than any feast from this life she had never really lived. Smiles as he growled out his praise over her piracy, kissing her with food greased lips as laughing punishment, were more potent and tangible than any kiss received from a husband who lived only in false memory.

Her heart wrenched as she traced his face, weather worn and lined from years of hard living. Years of loveless failed purpose in every crease and wrinkle. His eyes though, his eyes were still that beautiful blue. No twisted wish could dim those eyes.

Emma set to work, undressing him with care, his form still and sleeping. She removed the dirty coat, squashing the urge to throw it into the sea, discarded the stained linen shirt, the curling twisting scarves. She removed them all, methodically and reverently. She couldn’t just leave him like this. He may not be the man she loved, but the echo of him was still there, a path thankfully untaken in another life mapped out in the unfamiliar scars and tattoos on his chest and torso.

She summoned the copper hip bath from the galley, filled it with hot water, scented it with conjured oils, and set to work. Her work was mindless and tedious, the only sounds in the cabin his harsh measured breaths, the trickle of water as she bathed him, the scratch and rasp of the cloth on his skin. She lingered over his hand, still firm and sure, and carefully removed his rings, setting them on the mantle.

She traced his brow, more prominent than the one she knew, the curve of his jaw, less defined and angular, but no less dashing. The water and candlelight played tricks with the shadows, his former handsomeness appearing like a specter on his face as the flame flickered, filling in the lines, darkening his beard, sharpening his features, blurring the years of neglect. It was just an illusion though, the next guttering flare of the light casting his true form in sharp relief.

She washed his hair, nails scrapping at his scalp, remembering his appreciative moans in similar circumstances. She’d always loved his hair, falling across his forehead with a wonderful playful boyishness, curling enticingly at his collar when he’d let it go too long, a chaotic beautiful mess that had now gone lank and gray. She bathed it in the oil, slowly working it through each strand, until it looked almost black in the light, and rinsed it over and over with the warm scented water.

She carefully trimmed the ends with a small pair of scissors that were still in the same spot on his basin, ever a creature of habit even here, and gave form to his dishevelment, structure to the neglected chaos. She brushed and brushed as it dried, until it shone silver and straight against the tan of his hardened skin.

Next came his beard, so coarse and wild, so different than the soft well trimmed scruff she had pressed her palm against a hundred times. She lathered him in cream with the bristled brush from his shaving kit, dusty from neglect, carefully smoothing it over the planes and angles of his face.

Each scrape of the straight blade, sharpened to a razors edge on the same stone that had seen many a sword, honed on a thick leather strap, took away years, decades even. His skin was smoother here, protected from the harsh elements and an even harsher life under all that wild growth. Slowly the years melted away as she carefully scraped the blade down, his jaw growing more pronounced without its thick, unkempt covering.

She dressed him again, her magic aiding her work, clean black leather and stark white linen, embracing him in golden light as it moved over his body, his necklace prominent against the silver hair of his chest.

She laid a more familiar leather jacket on the back of his chair, her eyes burning when she saw it, just the same as ever, folded carefully in a chest, tucked away like so many unwanted memories. She whisked the old decrepit one away with a flick of her wrist, glad to see it gone, and imagined him pulling this one on instead, strong and confident, the leather panels sweeping out behind him as he went off into the world to conquer his demons.

She cleaned up, putting everything back exactly as she had found it, the copper tub emptied and whisked back to the galley, the scissors back in their spot on the basin.

And then she wrote.

She had never been much of a writer, preferring the colors and hues of paint on paper when it came to creative endeavors, but this story she knew down to her very soul. She poured it out onto yellowed parchment, wove the tale with every scratch of nib, every dip into black ink. She told the tale of an ugly duckling turned into a swan, of a princess and her pirate, of a true love blessed by the gods themselves. She told the tale of a man who changed despite the darkness, a hero revealed through his sacrifices made for love, of vengeance forgotten for a life well lived.

She told their story, the most beautiful story she had ever known, the ink marred by falling tears, the lines smudged by shaking hands as she folded it, pressing a red lipped kiss to corner, and laid it carefully on mantle.

Emma hoped he would read it when she was gone, back to the the man he would never get to be. Emma hoped he would read it, and know his story wasn’t over yet.

[5hfanfiction]

The Chosen Juans (Camren Hogwarts AU)

Prompt:  Hogwarts Camren AU 

They’re in the same house and quidditch team and have a match against the Slytherins Camila gets injured seriously (like unconscious) and Lauren is really worried. 

https://www.wattpad.com/357636657-camren-prompts-the-chosen-juans

The start is a little…well… (͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) —————————————————————————————————

“Laurrr-oh wow,” Camila bit down on her lower lip in pleasure and arched her back into her girlfriend’s body. The full lips were attached to the base of her neck, peppering her with soft, wet kisses and sucking the skin along her collarbone.

She dug her fingernails into Lauren’s back and pulled the girl into her; who was now slowly running her tongue over the side of Camila’s neck to the earlobe and tugging it, between her teeth.

“S-stop baby…” The brown eyes dilated as the petite girl moaned, throwing her head back.

“Do you really want me to?” The taller girl husked into her ear causing another unrelenting moan to escape from within.

“N-no kee-” she began until a loud shriek tore them apart; her arms still draped around her girlfriend.

“MS. JAUREGUI! MS. CABELLO! WHAT ARE YOU TWO DOING?”

Oh fuck me.

Camila’s eyes widened at the sound of Professor McGonagall’s voice, directly behind them. She pushed Lauren off, rapidly, who fell back but managed to grab the support wood, throwing a glare in her direction. One that she promptly returned with, a ‘You fucking started this’ look.  

Today was a pretty important day for Gryffindor. Today was the Quidditch semi-final between Slytherin and Gryffindor, and never in the past decade had Gryffindor, ever failed to secure the cup. Especially, since Lauren Jauregui joined the team. Her impeccable skills as a goal keeper had secured the team victories with huge margins and earned her the honour of being the youngest Quidditch captain, in the history of Hogwarts, just in her fourth year.

So, when beautiful, smart and goofy third-year Camila Cabello joined them as a seeker, the raven-haired girl couldn’t help but be smitten by this adorable creature who played with prowess and passion, she had never seen before. The girl, however, initially started off hating the over-demanding captain who pressured them to practice at odd-timings and did not care much for their personal time. But early morning practices and time spent together, eventually formed a budding relationship that blossomed over the course of a year.

And when they won their first cup together; it was natural that Camila ran towards Lauren with a hard blazing look, throwing those lean arms around her and even more natural that without thinking, without planning it, without worrying about the fact that fifty people were watching; Lauren kissed her. Everything since then, they had only grown. Sneaked kisses, midnight dates, teasing words became their routine and in her seventh year (Camila’s sixth); they had their first time. It was sweet and sometimes awkward, but full of love and adoration. She gave the brunette a string of promises and hopes of a life that awaited them after Hogwarts. She already had an offer to join the Holyhead Harpies after graduation, while Camila sought out to have a career in Magical Law Enforcement.

They were in love, there was no doubt about that.

Today was also pretty important for Lauren. It would be her second last (last if they lost the semi-finals) match and she was focused. Her mind was consumed with the silver cup of victory. That was until she saw her girlfriend, slipping her robe over the form fitting kit that enunciated every curve of her body. A wildfire erupted inside the pale girl’s body and her green eyes darkened. Before she knew it, they were behind the bleachers and she had Camila pinned against one of the wooden supports, moaning in pleasure.

Well before now at least.

Professor McGonagall’s expression was somewhere between shock and amusement as she narrowed her eyes at the pair. “Explain. Now.”

"Oh uh I-” The brunette tried to formulate words as a deep blush crept across her face.

"Camila thought something bit her and I was, um… inspecting the area?” Lauren cut her short and shot a cheeky grin at McGonagall, who looked at her like would grab her broomstick and make a sport out of hitting her across the head with it. “Gotta make sure all my players are in their prime today.” She lowered her head and coughed, uncomfortably.

The older witch pushed her glasses down to the tip of her nose and looked them over for a while before sighing.

“If I didn’t have a 10 Galleon bet with Professor Slughorn, I would have made sure you were cleaning the staircases with Mr. Filch, instead of playing today.” She grumbled and a smirk fell over the Quidditch captain’s lips, which quickly faded when she said, “10 point from Gryffindor, each. For frolicking around like blithering, hormonal idiots and being excessively loud while doing so.” Her eyes drifted to Camila’s face whose tan skin turned furiously red, while Lauren stifled a laugh. “Go.”

“Sorry Professor.” They mumbled and sprinted out of the room.

“Oh no, you come back here!” The young Latina narrowed her eyes at her girlfriend who was heading towards the stadium entrance to join the team. “This is your fault.”

“I, well…um? You looked so fucking beautiful, I couldn’t help myself?” The fill lips curled into a cocky simper, making Camila roll her eyes in response and grab the scruff of her girlfriend’s robe. She captured Lauren’s lips in a passionate kiss and bit down on them harshly, causing a low groan to escape the older girl’s throat.

“Yeah, well you better be prepared to finish what you started, Jauregui,” she rasped, pulling away; her brown eyes darkened with lust and want. “Tonight.” She winked and gave Lauren’s butt a light smack before joining the rest of the team.

Flabbergasted, the pale girl flushed and shook her head in amusement at Camila’s boldness. She made her way towards the front of the team (not before flashing Camila a quick grin) and whispered words of encouragement.

Within minutes, chanting ‘Gryffindor’ loudly, they ran into the stadium where they were greeted by red and gold confetti along with screaming from bleachers of every house, except Slytherin.

“I LOVE YOU JAUREGUI” screams erupted from the Gryffindor bleacher and a cloth like object was thrown towards her from the front. She caught the racy bra in her grasp and smirked but quickly threw it away, as she practically felt Camila boring holes into the back of her head with her glower.

“You guys are like, younger than fifteen, geez,” she shouted at the crowd who, merely, screamed in return. Camila’s name was chanted too, with thankfully, no clothing items flying their way. The Slytherin crowd finally burst into cheers as the latter team emerged, with green and silver overtaking the sky this time, and met them in the middle. The Slytherin captain, Austin, shot Lauren a glare which she straightaway returned. There were heated glances being exchanged between everyone to the point that they almost missed Madam Hooch’s mount whistle.

The match began smoothly with the Gryffindor Chaser, Normani taking the Quaffle. About twenty minutes into the match, Gryffindor was up by ninety points, while Slytherin had a miserable zero. The captain, doused in slivery green robes, began shouting at his teammates in anger, while Lauren bucked up her teammates with cheers, even those who lost the ball. The match suddenly grew heated as Camila and the Slytherin seeker, Lucy, darted off behind the goal posts, chasing the small, impossibly fast Snitch.

Seeing an opportunity, Austin signaled his Beater, Shawn to hit a Bludger towards Lauren who was a little distracted by the Snitch chase.

“LAUREN WATCH OUT!”

The next sequence of events occurred in a slow-motion split second; a hush falls over the crowd as her teammates shouted at her; Camila tore away from the Snitch with a look of dread and stared at the goalpost where the wild ball was heading straight towards her; this prompted her attention and she whirled around to see the ball, barely inches from her; her hands clasped the edge of her broomstick and she pulled her body upwards into a tumble roll with her eyes shut.

As she flew, the ball whooshed past her, grazing the tip of her helmet. The crowd drew in a collective breath and she prayed she had dodged it. The loud cheers made her face break into a triumphant grin, confirming her prayers and she opened her eyes, while fist pumping the air.

“Better luck next time, Dorito boy!” She sniggered and cast a look in his direction. He seemed oddly unfazed and sneered back in retaliation. A sense of panic and confusion invaded her and she whipped around to look in the direction Austin was staring at.  

“Wha…” she turned and her eyes met Camila’s, who was beaming at her.

And then she saw it.

From behind the petite brunette, the wild ball emerged.

“CAMILA DUCK!” She shouted and the other girl turned around. Camila’s eyes widened and the last thing she saw was a flash of dull gray and bright red.

********

“…and then thwack.”

“Yeah it was a pretty harsh blow.”

“Hey I think she’s waking up!”

The warm brown eyes fluttered open slowly and instantly began to blink back at thunderstorms swarming in her mind; the disjointed haze receding to the point where Camila could make sense of the world around her. Though the edges of her vision flickered and danced, she saw several faces looming over her and soft hands running along the length of her arms.

“H-how-” she tried to speak but felt a painful pressure against her chest and the soft strokes against her arms, picking up pace.

“No, baby don’t try to speak. You’ve broke like half of your ribs.” The voice, she recognized as Lauren cooed.

“Yeah Mila, the Bludger practically threw you off like 50 feet in the air, McGonagall had to cast a spell to lessen your blow.” Dinah, one of the Chasers and Camila’s best friend, said while placing a hand over hers.

“Even then, you broke both your arms and most of your ribs. Punctured a lung too.” Normani joined in. “You’re lucky we’re all magic folk. You could have been dead if this was the Muggle world.” The dark, Muggle-born girl grimaced, thinking about her own familial origin.

“Did w-we-” Camila tried to wheeze out the words and saw the faces of the team falter. She groaned and closed her eyes in disappointment, knowing what the answer was. 

She let everyone down. She let her teammates down, she let McGonagall down and worst of all; she let Lauren down. This would have been Lauren’s seventh consecutive win and would have made her the most successful Qudditch player, Hogwarts had ever produced. Her name would have echoed forever through the corridors, like the childhood dream she had narrated to Camila several times over, during their midnight strolls. And just like that, it was now gone.  

“Visiting hours are up. Off you go, let her get some rest!” Madam Pomfrey, barged in, squealing like a banshee.

“Drink up, dear.” She shoved a liquid flask in Camila’s hand as everyone mumbled goodbyes and dispersed not before helping her sit up. “You’ll be alright by tomorrow. Sleep tight, love.” The old woman patted her cheek and disappeared down the end of the hall, dimming the lights as she left. 

The silvery liquid, which smelled a lot like something the young Latina would never want to smell again, sizzled in her frail grasp and she downed the liquid in one go before she could throw it up. She had a horrible gag reflex and thankfully, her sexual preference ensured, that would never be put to the test.

As soon as the foul liquid was down her throat, she felt the ache inside her chest ease and her arms, gain a little mobility. It was the tingling in her arms that made her realize, the soft strokes against them had never stopped. An eerie sense of fear drenched over her and her eyes widened as she looked around.

“It’s only me.”

Camila screamed. The disembodied voice, no matter how familiar it sounded, combined with the dreariness of the medication, threw her off.

“Oh my God, Camz! You’re lucky I cast ‘Muffliato’ before you fucking screeched. Pomfrey would put me in one of these beds, if she caught me here.” Lauren’s head appeared level with the side of Camila’s bed.

“Y-you sc-ared me.” The brunette drew in large gulps of air, her speech becoming a little better and turned her head towards her girlfriend.

“I’m sorry baby,” the pale girl stood up, shredding off the cloak that rendered her invisible and peered through the hall, cautiously. The entire ward was now submerged in darkness, apart from the moonlight flooding through the large windows. Madam Pomfrey had probably sauntered off with Mr. Filtch for their usual late night dates; one they had accidently discovered during their own romantic misadventures. “Borrowed this from the Potter kid, nice guy. You didn’t think I was gonna leave you alone did you?”

“I figured…” Camila trailed off and lowered her gaze, as she felt tears prickling her eyes. Whatever it is she had drunk, it sure as hell was making her an emotional mess.

Lauren was quick to notice the distress and leaned beside her bed, taking her hand in a gentle grasp. “Hey, you can talk to me. What’s wrong, Camz?”

“I figured y-you wouldn’t want t-t-to see m-me.” She stuttered, the emotions threatening to erupt at the slightest provocation.

“Why would you think that, baby?” Lauren furrowed her brows and began tracing circles on the younger girl’s wrist like she had always done when Camila was upset.

“W-we lost and it wa-was my fault,” Camila choked out; the remaining pressure on her chest and the painful lump in her throat, made it hard to speak.

“No C-” The green eyed girl sighed but was cut short by her. She wasn’t even making an effort to conceal the tears anymore. “Lauren, if I hadn’t b-been gawking at you, I w-would have seen the s-stupid ba-ball!”

The older girl tightened her grip around Camila’s hand to get her attention and let out a small laugh. “You think that’s why we lost? Because you got knocked out?”

This made the brown eyes widen a little in confusion and little because Lauren’s laugh is her favourite thing. “You lost y-your Seeker…”

“Darling, we were up by 190 points to zero!” Lauren exclaimed. “We lost because, after you got knocked out, I left my post and grabbed Ally’s bat and started sending Bludger after Bludger in that twat’s direction. They had to pause the game to carry me away… Not before I got Mahone on a stretcher of his own though.” She spoke through gritted teeth and Camila felt her tongue form knots and her stomach do somersaults at the thought of how protective Lauren was of her. “And even then, we lost by ten points only.”

After a moment of silence, the warm eyes welled up again as she stared at her girlfriend. “W-why would y-you do that?”

“He hurt you.” The older girl shrugged and stated as a matter-of-fact.

Her brain, still a little unconvinced, began to form a thread of rambles, which she voiced exasperatedly. “But y-you wouldn’t have had to do that if I h-had just p-paid attention and you w-would have accomplished y-your dream-”

“Camila, I want you to listen to me very carefully,” Lauren cut her off and took her hand in both of her pale ones.

“Before I met you, the picture I had in my head, was a small, scrawny girl in shiny Qudditich robes standing in a humungous stadium, while the crowd chanted my name.” The older girl chuckled and pretended to whisper scream, “Jauregui! Jauregui!”

“Ever since the first day of Hogwarts, I always knew I wanted to be a professional Qudditch player. My family did not approve and thought it best for me to have a more Ministry based career. They doubted me, taunted me and I won every single cup hoping to win them over. All in vain” Her raspy voice cracked a little, as her green eyes began to shimmer, not with sadness but with pure adoration as they looked upon Camila, like they will never love anyone again as much as they love this woman before her.  

“You, my beautiful darling, were the first person to tell me you believed in me. You made me believe in myself. You told me, that I could be the world’s greatest Qudditch player and in that moment, it was all that mattered. It is all that matters.” She smiled and pressed her lips on top of her girlfriend’s hand, planting a gentle kiss. “Because the image I have in my head now is of the same, scrawny kid in Qudditch robes. But standing next to her, is this magnificent, intelligent and definitely the most gorgeous, woman I have ever had the pleasure of knowing and having her by my side is the only dream that I want.”

Camila was dumbfounded to say the least. Her mind was whirring with so many emotions and seeing Lauren look at her like that, with tears in her eyes, was the most vulnerable she had ever seen the older girl. She knew then and there, no doubts left in mind, that kneeling before her, is the woman she was going to marry someday.

“I love you, Camila Cabello. Making a life with you would be the greatest achievement of my life and not even a thousand of those silly cups could compare to that.” Lauren smiled earnestly and leaned forward to press her lips to the top her Camila’s head.

“I love you too.” Without waiting for her to pull away, with every ounce of strength in her body, the young Latina grabbed Lauren by the back of her neck and lifted herself off, to kiss her chastely.

Lauren, immediately, wrapped her arms around Camila’s midriff to keep her from falling and returned the kiss, wholeheartedly. It wasn’t like a normal kiss they shared, but one that carried their need for the other to see how much they wanted them; that their hearts would shrivel and grow cold if either were to ever let go. The kiss was a silent vow of ever after and a desire to show how much they craved each other. And when Camila moaned Lauren’s name in the kiss, Lauren knew she wanted to hear that sound until her ears were hard of hearing and old age took her; and when Lauren cupped Camila’s face tightly in her hands and stared at her with an intense gaze, Camila knew these pair of eyes were the last thing she wanted to see before she died.

A/N:  I’M SORRY IF THIS ISN’T WHAT YOU WANTED ANON, THERE WILL BE PLENTY OF FLUFFY FANFICS IN THE FUTURE I PROMISE

Also, as of now, I’m not taking anymore prompt requests until I finish the ones I have lined up. Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoy <3 

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NYCC | 2014

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IGN ❖ 2015

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IGN | 2018

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NYCC 2014

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