#tried to skirt around certain things for others’ sakes

[bunicate]

rambling abt diluc’s relationship with his sister from the maid, adelinde’s pov ♡ im pretti sure dis was an ask I received on my old blog too ! !

adelinde didn’t have much expected of her besides her daily cleanings and the occasional rotation of taking out the trash, but recently she’s been burdened with the task of looking after you.

you’re a troublesome girl to tend to.

she would never say it out loud or let her feelings show, but master diluc had you spoiled rotten. you were the only one allowed to disturb him in his study and demand the most menial things for the sake of his attention. 

you're often half-naked and oversleeping when you weren't bothering him.

she frequently dresses you, and brushes your hair so you could look presentable in front of your brother, and you would insist on only the shortest dresses and skirts. or flat out refuse to have your blouse buttoned all the way. she wouldn’t dare to speak out of turn, but your bosom was nearly visible at all times. 

she doesn’t acknowledge her master's subtle glances towards the swell of your chest, or his hand that rests too closely to your bottom.

you both were closer than most siblings. that she knows, the other maids all witnessed it but wouldn’t speak of it lest their master would catch them.

it was an enjoyable job, and it would be a shame to lose it because diluc caught their loose lips flapping away.

adelinde was quick to regard the interactions as siblings who simply cherished each other.

although you’re a handful, you’re also sweet and thoughtful, and she could see why diluc treated you as such. she often helps you clean up your messes from making strawberry tarts, and other little gifts that you give diluc. by the end of the day, you’d be exhausted, and each time she’d lay a blanket over your slumbering body when you waited up late for diluc.

she’d watch you until she’s interrupted by her master's arrival. 

“thank you, adelinde. you may go for the night. i’ll take care of her from here,” he’d say.

like routine, she’d bow.

“well then. goodnight master diluc.”

she would watch him slowly collect your body within his grasp, gentle enough not to disturb you from slumber. 

he’d pull back the hair that obstructs your face and adelinde could never forget the look of utter tenderness that seeped into his visage.

a certain kind of love unbinds the furrow of his brow and eases the tension in his broad shoulders. his figure would then disappear into your room, and that would be the last she saw of you both for the night. 

the next day when adelinde knocks on your door to come in, and you’re already awake.

your pajamas are revealing as always. a skimpy underwear and a strapless cotton top. your hair covers it, but she makes out the bruise on your neck, and she ignores it.

she tries not to appear uncomfortable when you walk downstairs in the same attire and diluc don't even seem phased. he just puts you on the kitchen counter, feeding you blueberries for breakfast.

touches and the palatable air isn’t enough to jump to conclusions, but she supposes she no longer had a choice anymore when she mistakenly walks into the living room and witnesses such a sweltering kiss.

her master trails his hands on the cheeks of your butt, groping the flesh while he buried his tongue in your mouth. 

adelinde is stunned at the sight. her master was kissing his little sister. 

a sensation she’s unfamiliar with runs down her body. his tongue is so much larger than yours, wrapping around your smaller one, swallowing your breathy cries. his hands cup your face, and it’s then she realizes how large those gloved fingers really are.

carefully, she watches them trail downwards, slipping into his pants to pull out his thickening and leaky member. 

adelinde , felt fear and a tinge of arousal.

he was going to insert his cock between your folds. your pretty silken folds, that sweltered with lust. his dick was hard and angry, and your body looked too perfect — too delicate to be touched.

adelinde licked her lips as diluc entered inside of you. your back arches and your tits jiggle from the comedown of his hips. he fucks into you at a rapid pace, and the sound of wetness on his cock destabilizes the maid's ability to react appropriately.

the moistness is audible between the slaps of skin and the loud cries.

the sheets darken with sweat and cum. your skin is bitten and then kissed, and your moans reverberate in the same room.

the air is hot and sticky and adelinde feels a knot in her belly. she quickly darts out into the corridor and begins to dread the following day. anxiety pricks at her skin at the fear of facing you both once more.

she knows that she’ll have to clean you up in the morning and face the dark truth about her master and his younger sister.

[allthesmutl0vers]

Managing Mischief: Weasley Twins x Fem!Reader (Part Seven)

MDNI, NSFW, 18+ Masterlist Pairing: Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader x George Weasley TW: Mentions of ED, Oral Sex (M! and F! Receiving and giving), Just general fluff, and Ron who makes you facepalm yourself. 🤦🏻‍♀️ A/N: I am so sorry it took me so long to update this! I'm re-writing this story and the chapters are long af, and just a mess. (This was my first ever fic from like 2 years ago on Wattpad.) I solemnly swear that I will update this more. Tag: @helendeath @ the anon who asked where this was. Please reblog and/ or comment if you like the story, as they help me stay motivated to keep writing 💜🥹

Chapter Seven

Fred

Looking at y/n sitting next to me, talking to our friends, makes my heart pound. She’s so goddamn beautiful. I just wish we could make her see it for herself. George and I have tried to come up with reasons why she doesn’t eat when we’re alone, but we can’t seem to find one. We notice the weight loss. We were the first ones to notice it. At first, we thought she just wanted to slim down a bit, not that she ever needed to. 

But now? She’s so tiny that her ribs are poking out, and that can’t be healthy. What really worries us though, is when she gets so lightheaded she almost faints and has to sit down. Neither of us cares how much she weighs. We never did. We just want her to be healthy and happy. She will always be the most beautiful girl in the world to us, no matter her size. 

I’ve never been into Angelina. She’s a good mate and a fair chaser, but nothing more. The way that y/n got so defensive and chewed her out, though? Fuck, my dick swells just at the thought of it. Not to mention the way she blew up at Malfoy, calling out about having a shitty dick. That made my heart soar and almost cripple me with laughter. 

But what really got my attention? The way she said that she screams my and George’s names. I can only imagine what that’d be like, what it will be like. I squeeze her leg a little tighter, and she looks up at me with those beautiful brown eyes that I just want to fall into and never come out of. 

She gives me a curious look, and I lean down to whisper in her ear. “So, you scream our names, hm, little one?” I ask her softly and feel her shudder and clench her thighs under my grip. I love the way she reacts to my touch and my words. 

“Maybe,” she whispers back and softly whimpers. Biting her lip when I slide my hand further up her skirt. Fuck, I love the little sounds she makes. Every single one of them goes straight to my cock. I lick my bottom lip as George grabs her attention as we pull into the train station. 

George

I’ve seen y/n pissed off before, but her yelling at Angelina and Katie was something else. Something something much sexier. I’ve never given Katie so much as half a glance outside of quidditch practice, and during games, I’m focused on the game. At most just keeping people from getting bloodied up too bad. But I’m fairly certain she would’ve killed them if Harry hadn’t stepped in. 

I could’ve destroyed Draco on the spot when he asked to have a moment with her. But this girl, with her tiny little hands and fingers, stopped me instantly. She ate him up, spit him back out, and I’m pretty sure she made him cry. And he deserved every last bit of it. I don’t know what made him think it was a good idea to try to talk to her, alone for that matter. Did Blaise not tell him we’re together? Oh well, the whole school is going to find out sooner or later, and I can’t fucking wait. 

The only thing that really worries me is her eating habits or lack thereof. We haven’t really found the right time to talk to her about it, but we talk to each other about it. Fred thinks it’s just stress, but I think it could be an eating disorder. She’s losing weight so fast, and she’s so light that now I can lift her and swing her around with one arm without breaking a sweat. For Merlin’s sake, my trunk is heavier than she is. It scares the living daylights out of me when she almost faints. We can’t lose her. I can’t lose her. I wouldn’t survive it. 

My attention is drawn to her thighs clenching under my hand, and I look over to see Fred, no doubt whispering some dirty shit in her ear. She thinks she’s going to win whatever little game she is playing, and she just might. I want to get down on my knees and serve her every single chance I get. I haven’t even tasted her pussy yet, and I’m fucking addicted. 

I see her pull away slightly from Fred and take the opportunity to grip her chin and force her to look at me so I can whisper my dirty shit in her ear. She leans in with those perfect, supple lips and I fight the urge to just kiss her instead. But I hold back, whispering into her ear instead, smelling the strawberry conditioner in her hair. “We may be going to a feast, baby, but I’m going to eat you out like it’s my last fucking meal,” I hear her gasp softly and feel her thighs clench together even more, rubbing her legs together like she’s searching for some kind of friction. I kiss her as we pull into the train station, and she stands up to follow Fred out of the compartment with me right behind her. 

Y/n

I take Fred’s hand as I slide out of the booth. My panties are fucking soaked. This is going to be a long dinner, and the sorting ceremony feast is always long. As we we off the train, Fred and George go ahead of me, and each helps me down, taking my hands in theirs. We walk with our friends, everyone holding hands with who they’re now officially dating as we walk to the castle as the sun begins to set. 

We’re all some of the last people to enter the great hall. I can’t help but feel anxious with so many people staring at me, Fred and George. They sense it, though, and grip my hands tighter as they walk me to the Gryffindor table, and we take our seats across from our friends. “Everyone is staring,” I whisper to both of them.

“Let them stare, little one,” Fred tells me with a smile. 

“Nothing, and nobody can hurt you while we’re around. I promise, baby,” George says softly, stroking my hair. I nod my head and turn to the front as Dumbledore starts his speech. 

“Good evening, and welcome back,” Dumbledore says with a smile as the rest of the chatter dies down. “Here starts another year of education, friendship, and memories. While we may be separated by house, we are one school, one body. And we must all look out for each other, care for one another, and protect everyone. As with every year, we will begin with the sorting ceremony, welcoming fresh minds and new friends. Be kind, be generous, and be helpful. I’m sure you all remember the first time walking through those doors and the uncertainty that came along with it,” he chuckles before continuing. 

“Show them that no matter what house you are sorted into, everyone is welcome, and everyone has a place here. This year, we will also have a new Defense Against The Dark Arts professor joining us as well. A man I believe to be one of the bravest, most loyal, and even one of the most trouble-causing previous students I have ever known. Please give a warm welcome to Sirius Black,” he claps with a smile. 

We all look at Harry and smile. We all stand up and clap the loudest of anyone in the great hall, Fred and George whooping and hollering as Sirius walks out from a room behind the teacher's table, smiles at us, and takes a seat. 

*****

“That concludes our sorting ceremony,” Dumbledor claps as the new first-years take their seats at their assigned house tables. “Let the feast begin,” Dumbledore says as platters of all sorts of food appear on the table in front of us, damn near throwing me into a full-blown panic attack. 

Everyone digs in, and I start to look for the lowest calorie foods, mentally counting them in my head and comparing them to how much exercise I’ll have to do to make up for it when Fred takes my plate and starts putting food onto it. “What are you doing?” I ask him, trying not to panic. 

“Serving you, little one,” he says calmly, putting a scoop of potato salad on my plate, knowing it’s my favorite. I dig my nails into the palm of my hand when I see the size of the scoop, double what I would’ve taken for myself. My breathing intensifies as I watch him put beans and chicken on my plate, too. 

George takes my hands in one of his and tips my face to look at him. “Deep breath, baby. It’s alright. You don’t have to eat it all. We just want you to try, okay?” He says in a soothing tone of voice. I nod my head as tears well in my eyes, begging myself not to cry as Fred takes control of my plate. “Hey, hey, look at me,” George says, getting my attention again. “Take a deep breath in with me, okay? In,” he says and we take a deep breath in together. “Good, and out,” he says as we blow it out. We do this three times until I’ve finally calmed down. “Good girl, you feel a little better now?” 

I nod. “A little. I just hate eating in front of all of these people. I feel like they’re all staring at me,” I sniffle. 

“I promise they’re not, baby. But would it make you feel better if the others blocked you from looking at them?” George asks me. I nod shyly, and he smiles and kisses my cheek before leaning over the table to Hermione. “Pst, Granger,” he says, getting her attention as Fred sets my plate down in front of me. 

“Yes?” she answers, leaning over. 

“Tell everyone to scoot down so our girl doesn’t have to look at everyone while she eats, will you?” he asks quietly. Hermione gives him a thumbs up. 

Fred rubs my back lovingly and places some water and tea down in front of me as the others scoot down. “I don’t think I can eat all of this, Freddie,” I admit quietly. 

Fred smiles sadly and leans in. “It’s alright, little one. Just eat half, okay?” He says softly. 

I nod. “I’m sorry,” I admit, feeling ashamed. 

Fred tilts my chin up to look at him. “Listen to me. You have nothing to be sorry for. Do you understand me?” He asks seriously, and I nod as he continues. “Whenever you’re ready to talk about it, we’re here. Until then, and after, we will do everything we can to help you, okay?” 

“Thank you, Freddie,” I say softly. 

Fred genuinely smiles and kisses the back of my hand. “Anything for you, little one.” 

Our four friends scoot down to block me from looking at anyone else, and Fred and George tilt their bodies slightly to block me on the sides. “I still don’t see why we had to move,” Ron groans as I pick up my fork. 

Hermione nudges him in the ribs. “I told you, we’re helping y/n,” she scolds him. 

Ron rolls his eyes and looks at me. “Honestly, what did you need our help with, anyway?” Ron asks as he puts more food on his plate. 

I bite my lip nervously before I answer him. “I promise, I’ll tell you later. But I really do appreciate it,” I respond, giving him a small smile. 

Ron swallows a big bite and looks at me. “Whatever it is, it better be good, is all I’m saying.” 

Harry rolls his eyes and looks at Ron. “Honestly, Ron, just eat.”

I manage to eat half of my plate before the table magically clears and dessert appears. I take a deep breath, feeling my anxiety start rising again, but before I can get too deep into it, a voice behind me pulls me from my thoughts. “Ms. Hunt?” I turn around to see the headmaster, Dumbledore, behind me, looking down at me with a kind smile. 

“Oh, yes, sir?” I respond politely. 

“I hate to steal you away from your friends, but would you kindly accompany me to my office? I need to speak with you,” He asks like I have a choice. 

 “Of course, sir. Right now?” I ask, looking around at my friends and wondering how I could be in trouble when we literally just got here. 

Dumbledore smiles and nods once. “Yes, if you please. I will have you back to your common room with plenty of time to visit and settle in.” 

I nod and stand from the table. “Of course, sir. Lead the way,” As I walk through the great hall with Dumbledore, everyone, and I mean everyone, stares. But this time, I also hear the rumors. 

“She’s probably in trouble because she’s dating the twins,” someone from our table says.

“Hopefully, the slut gets kicked out,” someone adds in response to the first.

“Did you see her crying at the table? Fucking pathetic,” someone from the Ravenclaw table says.

“I heard she’s on drugs, and that’s why she doesn’t eat,” says someone from Slytherin.

I try to ignore them, but my eyes are filled with tears by the time we exit the great hall, and I can’t stop the sniffle that breaks free. Dumbledore doesn’t speak about it, simply handing me a tissue without saying a word as we walk to his office. 

“Sherbert lemon,” Dumbledore says to the griffin statue that leads to his office. The statue turns, and stairs appear in its place. When we get to his office, he opens his door and allows me to enter first. “Please, have a seat,” he says kindly, motioning to the chair in front of his desk as he sits behind it. 

“Sir, am I in trouble?” I ask nervously as I sit down in front of his desk. 

 Dumbledore looks at me curiously. “Now, why would you think that you’re in trouble?” He asks, making me want to roll my eyes. He always does this. Answers questions with a question. 

I shrug my shoulders. “I don’t know,” then it hits me. “Is it my Mum?” I ask worriedly. “She’s in the hospital, you see, at,”

Dumbledore raises a hand, cutting me off. “At St. Mungo’s, with your father. Yes, I am aware,” Dumbledore says with a small smile. “Your father wrote me this morning and explained the whole situation. I am happy to say she is quite alright, even if she hasn’t woken yet,” he says, leaning back in his seat. “And you are not in any trouble.” 

Now, I’m even more confused. “Okay. Forgive me, professor. It’s just that I’ve never been called into your office before,” I say, looking around. 

“I asked you up here because I noticed that you seemed to be struggling at dinner. And I wanted to ask if there is anything that I can do to help,” Dumbledore responds kindly. 

I breathe a small sigh of relief. “Honestly, sir, I’m not sure,” I answer honestly, but I can see that he is waiting for an explanation, so I decide to just tell him everything. “Over the summer, I went through quite a bit,” he nods, waiting for me to continue. “My eating disorder has returned. It started in year three, and I got it under control in my fourth and fifth years, but this last summer,” I look off to the side, my hands shaking. “It returned in full swing. I noticed that I had gained quite a bit of weight and well…” I sigh and shrug my shoulders as I look back at him. “Here I am.”

Dumbledore nods, thinking for a minute before he speaks. “I’m very sorry to hear that, Ms. Hunt,” he says sympathetically. “You care so deeply for your friends, and you are always kind to everyone around you. I notice it when I am doing my evaluations during the year, and even just around the school in general,” he explains. “You are always the first one to offer help to another student, regardless of their house. I admire that about you,” he says with a smile. 

He thinks for another moment and speaks again. “How about this,” he explains. “There is a big enough table in your common room for you and your friends. How would you like to eat your meals there instead of the great hall? Your friends can join you, of course. You can eat your meals there in peace and just join the rest of the school when you feel comfortable enough.”

“That would be amazing, professor,” I say surprised. “But I would hate to burden you or the elves. I know nobody thinks about them, but I do. They already have so much on their plate: starting the fires, cleaning, and warming the beds on top of everything else. I would hate to add on to that.”

“I think it is a beautiful thing that you think of them,” he smiles. “You’re right. They are often overlooked. But I assure you, with your permission, of course, that when I explain the situation to them, they will be happy to help. Especially Dobby. As I hear, you have gotten quite close with the elf?” 

I chuckle and nod. “Yes, Dobby is wonderful. He always listens to me when I need someone besides my friends to talk to. And always with hot chocolate,” I smile fondly at the memories and nod. “Yes, I would very much appreciate that. You have my permission to speak with them about it. I know I can trust you and them.” 

Dumbledore nods and smiles. “Thank you for trusting me. Forgive me for asking, but does anyone else know of your struggles? Your friends, for instance?”

“Not yet,” I shake my head. “I was going to tell them when we got back to the common room once everyone else went to bed. I know I can’t fight it alone. Part of me doesn’t want to fight it at all, if I’m being honest,” I admit nervously. “But I’m tired all the time, and it’s scary when I almost pass out,” I sigh. “I just don’t want to feel like this anymore.”

Dumbledore nods with understanding. “Yes, the battles we have within ourselves tend to be the hardest to win. But,” he points to me. “They are also the battles most worth fighting for,” he says with a smile. “There is one more thing I wanted to share with you.” 

I lean forward slightly, paying attention. “Yes, professor?” 

Dumbledore clears his throat and leans forward. “When I corresponded with your father, he mentioned that when you’re stressed, it helps for you to have your own space,” I nod in agreement. “I have made arrangements, and you will have your own dorm room this year,” my eyes widen in surprise. My own dorm?! “If, at some point, you would like to share it with Ms. Granger or Ms. Weasley, that will be your choice, and we can arrange it. But it is your choice.”

“Thank you, professor. That is very generous of you,” I smile. “I hope it wasn’t too much of a burden.”

“None at all,” he shakes his head. “You may also, if you choose, have co-ed sleepovers. You are a bright witch, and I trust your judgment,” he explains, interlocking his fingers. “But only in your dorm room, and as long as you are careful and remember to take your potions every day. You are a young woman, and I understand that you have, well, shall we say, desires, but I do not want to hear you or your friends bragging about your privileges in the halls or class,” Dumbledore says sternly.

“As you know, private co-ed gatherings in the dorms are allowed for sixth years and above, but only before eight o’clock. Should I hear you or your friends bragging about your privilege, it will be revoked. Is that understood?” he asks seriously. 

I nod profusely. “Yes, professor, I understand entirely,” I respond, trying not to jump for joy right out of my seat. 

“Very well. Now, let’s get you back to your common room, and I shall confer with the house elves about your accommodations,” he says as we rise from our seats and walk out of his office. “Your dorm will be at the end of the hall, past the other girls’ dorm rooms. It’s a new door, so you can’t miss it.” 

As we walk down the corridors and up the stairs to the Gryffindor common room, he shares some of the amenities of my new dorm. I have to refrain from running ahead and telling my friends all about them as he tells me. Dumbledore also tells me how to lock and unlock my door. Apparently, my door is just like the doors to the common rooms, and once I set a password, so charm in the world will open it. Dumbledore also tells me one more surprise I’m excited to share with my friends tonight, while the rest of the school will be told in the morning. 

“Ms. Hunt, may I offer you one more piece of advice?” He asks as we reach the portrait of the fat lady. 

“Of course, professor,” I answer him. 

“In the course of my many years, I have heard a lot of foul rumors. Some about myself. The one thing I’ve noticed about all of them is that they are almost always false, and all from people who simply don’t understand or won’t understand one’s situation. As hard as it may be, pay no mind or attention to the rumors we heard upon our exit from the great hall,” Dumbledore tells me as he places a hand gently on my shoulder. “People tend to create such horrible things to say to cope with their internal issues. Not a single one I heard tonight defines you.”

“Thank you, sir. That does make me feel a bit better,” I tell him truthfully. 

“Of course,” he nods with a smile. “Goodnight, Ms. Hunt,” he says, turning away. 

“Um, professor?” I call after him.

“Yes?” He asks, turning to face me again. 

I smirk and point to the common room door. “I don’t have the password.”

Dumbledore chuckles and shakes his head. “Of course, my apologies. The password is ‘Fortuna Major.” 

I nod and Dumbledore turns and walks away as I turn back to the door. “Fortuna Major,” I tell the fat lady. She nods, and the doorway opens, allowing me to pass through. 

I walk into the common room and see my friends and the twins all waiting for me on the couches by the fire. Other than that, the common room is empty. Everyone else is probably still at the feast, given the fact that it doesn’t end for another hour. That, or they’re in their dorms, unpacking and settling in. When they see me, they all jump up excitedly. I walk over to Fred and George, giving them a big hug. 

“Are you alright?” George asks me as he kisses the top of my head. 

“Yes. He just wanted to talk to me about what I need to talk to all of you about,” I tell him as I pull back. “Also,” I smirk. “I got my own dorm room.” 

“What?!” They all ask in shock. 

“You lucky witch! How’d you manage that?” Ginny asks in surprise. 

“So that’s what the new door is for! Nobody could figure out how to open it,” Hermione laughs. 

“Yeah, I’m the only one who can unless someone has my password. I guess my dad and Dumbledore talked, and they decided that with everything going on, I should have my own space,” I explain as everyone still looks at me in shock. “So…” I smile wide. “You guys want to come check it out with me?” I ask them all excitedly. 

“Um, yes!” Hermione says excitedly as we start to walk toward the stairs. 

I turn around when I notice that the boys aren’t following us. “You guys coming?” I ask with a raised brow. 

They look at each other, and George scratches the top of his head. “Uh, it’s after eight, baby. No boys can be up there.” 

“Yeah, but we’ll wait here until you’re ready to talk,” Fred says with a look of disappointment. 

I smirk as I look at them. “Well, then, I guess it’s a good thing that my dorm is co-ed twenty-four-seven,” I smile wide. 

The boys look at me like I just sprouted seven heads. “What? Seriously?” George asks in shock. 

“How’d you swing that?” Ron asks in equal shock. 

I shrug my shoulders and smile. “I guess Dumbledore trusts me,” I giggle. They all immediately follow us up the stairs and to my door. “Okay, I need to think of a password so nobody except us can get in. Any ideas?” I ask our group. 

“Oo! One second, let’s make sure there’s nobody around first,” Hermione says, checking the dorms. “Okay, all clear,” she says when she comes back. 

“How about ‘butterfly’?” Ginny suggests, then shakes her head. “No, that’s too easy.” 

“How about your Mum’s maiden name? Nobody would be able to guess that,” Harry suggests next. 

“Excellent idea, Harry!” I say with a smile and turn to the door. I place my palm on the wood like Dumbledore told me to and set the password. “Password set to ‘Benson,’” I instruct the door. 

“Did it work?” Fred asks behind me. 

I shrug. “I don’t know, let’s see,” I say, gripping the door handle. “Benson,” the lock clicks, and the handle turns as I open the door. I gasp as I see my room. It’s beautiful. 

The room is huge. It’s square with the brick walls exposed. A big, four-poster queen bed is against the wall by my door, with a nightstand on both sides. A large table with a comfortable-looking chair overlooks my window, and next to it, a minifridge filled with Redbull, water bottles, and the potions I take every day. 

On the wall directly in front of my bed is a fireplace with a TV on top, filled with my favorite streaming services. In front of the fireplace, two small couches face each other, with a coffee table in the middle. On the left side of the room, a private bathroom and a wardrobe for all of my clothes. 

As we all explore my room, everyone tells me how much they love it. “And the best part?” I smile, moving to the green button by my wall. “You can all stay the night. This button summons beds, snacks, and drinks. I press it again, and they disappear,” I explain. 

“Wicked,” the twins say in sync as they sit on one of the couches. I smile and sit between them as everyone gets comfortable. 

“So, onto more serious matters,” I sigh. I need to talk to you all about something,” I tell them as my hands begin to shake. 

“You can tell us anything, y/n. We’ll listen,” Ginny says, giving me a reassuring smile.

“You’re our best mate,” Harry adds, pulling Ginny onto his lap. 

I nod and turn to look at Fred and George at my sides. “Whenever you’re ready, little one.”

I turn to look at everyone again and take a deep breath. “Please hold any questions or comments until I’m done. Because it’s a lot,” I ask everyone. Everyone nods as they wait for me to continue. I close my eyes, relax, and begin to explain. 

“So, as I’m sure you all noticed, I don’t eat a lot, or sometimes, not at all,” I take another deep breath and continue. “I have anorexia. It’s an eating disorder that causes me to starve myself. It started in my third year, and it got better in my fourth and fifth year, but it’s back,” I look down at my hands. “I’m not proud of it; as a matter of fact, I hate it,” I sniffle. “I’m just so ashamed of my body and so scared of getting fat that I can’t stop, even though I hate feeling so dizzy all of the time.”

Fred and George each take one of my hands, holding them tightly as I look back up at our friends. “I hate eating in large crowds. That’s why George and Hermione asked you guys to scoot down in the great hall. To prevent me from having to see anyone else or anyone else seeing me,” Ron covers his mouth and looks at me with a sympathetic expression. 

“I also have really bad anxiety. I take a potion for it every morning. Nobody knows because Molly would slip it into my coffee in the morning. I also carry around single servings of a stronger dose of it in case I have a bad anxiety attack. I hope you guys don’t think less of me or think I’m weird because of it. But I feel like I can trust all of you, and I feel like you won’t. It’s just hard sometimes because my anxiety tells me people will,” I finish explaining, wiping away the few tears that fall. 

Fred and George help me stand as everyone stands with them and they pull me into a big group hug. “We would never do that, y/n. You’re our best mate,” Harry reminds me. 

“Exactly. You’re like a sister to me. Hopefully soon, a sister-in-law,” Ginny adds, making all of us laugh as we pull back. 

Ron looks at me with a guilty look on his face and a tear falling from his eyes as he pulls me into a tight hug himself. “Merlin, I’m such an ass,” he sniffles. “Can you ever forgive me?” 

“Of course, I can, Ron,” I assure him as I pat his back before I pull back. “None of you knew.”

“Thank you for telling us,” Hermione says as she hugs me. “I’ll do some research, and I’m sure we can find a way to help you beat this.” 

I giggle as I pull back. “Thanks, ‘Mione. I can always count on you and your research,” I giggle. And turn to Fred and George, seeing them crying. They rarely cry, if ever at all. 

“I’m sorry if this is all too much,” I go to apologize, but before I can finish, they pull me into their chests, hugging me between them in my safe space. 

“Don’t you even think about finishing that sentence,” Fred tells me as he sniffles and kisses the top of my head. 

“You’re never too much, baby. We will always be here for you,” George assures me. They pull back and wipe my tears that started to fall again and kiss my cheeks. “Always,” George says as he looks into my eyes. 

I put my arms around their waists as they drape their arms over my shoulders when I turn back to our friends. “I have one more surprise,” I smile. “Dumbledore is giving everyone the day off tomorrow as a mental health day. He said he wants everyone to just relax and have an extra day on the grounds before school starts. So, I was thinking we break in my new room with a good old-fashioned sleepover.”

Everyone cheers, and I turn back to Fred and George. “You guys still have those bottles of Firewhiskey?” I ask, biting my lower lip with a smile. 

“Oh, baby,” George smirks and leans on my shoulder. “We have bottles for days,” he flirts, kissing my cheek. 

“Okay, but we need to be careful because Dumbledore said nobody else can know that you all are allowed in here after eight,” I warn him. 

“Here,” Harry says to Fred and George, reaching into his bag and pulling out his invisibility cloak. “Take this to go grab ‘em. Will you grab Ron and I pajamas, too? The four of us won’t fit under there,” he says, handing the cloak to Fred. 

“No problem, mate,” Fred says, taking the cloak from Harry and turning to me, kissing me deeply. “Be right back, little one,” he says with a wink. 

“I’ll come with you. I’ll hold the clothes while you hold the bottles,” George says to Fred before kissing me. “Back soon, darling,” he says with a smile as he gets under the cloak with Fred, and they sneak out of my dorm. 

“So,” I walk over to the green button on the wall and face my friends. “Should we press the button?” I ask with a smile. 

“Yes! But we should probably move the table and couches first, get them out of the way,” Hermione mentions. 

“Good point,” I agree. We push the couches out of the way and push the coffee table to the end of my bed, clearing the floor for whatever kind of beds pop up. “Alright,” I say with a smile as we finish, and I walk back over to the button. “Here goes nothing,” I say as I press the button. 

We gasp as two beds appear in front of the fireplace, adorned with pillows and fluffy-looking comforters. The table by the window magically fills with snacks and drinks. Chips, dips, cookies, pumpkin pasties, two liters of soda, a jug of pumpkin juice, and a kettle with hot chocolate. 

“Merlin, y/n. This is officially the coolest room I have ever seen in this castle,” Ginny squeals excitedly. 

“Um,” Hermione says with a blush. “Didn’t you say there would be the right number of beds for guests?” Hermione asks shyly as she looks at the two beds. 

I shrug. “Well, Dumbledore said couples were allowed, so maybe there’s a bed for each of you,” I suggest. “The magic probably knows you’re with Ron and that Ginny is with Harry.”

“If you’re not comfortable, Hermione, Harry, and I can take one, and you and Ginny can have the other,” Ron says, giving Hermione a reassuring smile. 

Hermione kisses his cheek and smiles. “It’s okay, I don’t mind. I was just curious,” Hermione says with a blush. 

“Cool, because I, for one, want to sleep with my boyfriend,” Ginny smiles and kisses Harry as he wraps an arm around his waist. 

My bedroom door opens and closes, looking empty until Fred and George remove the cloak, already dressed in pajamas, holding two bottles of Firewhiskey and pajamas for Rona and Harry. “Only two extra beds?” George asks as he hands Harry and Ron their pajamas. 

“The magic knows they’re together,” I quickly explain as Fred sets the bottles down on the table. 

“Oo, so we get to sleep with our girlfriend, too?” Fred flirts, wrapping an arm around my waist and dipping me. 

I giggle and kiss him. “Easy, tiger. Nobody is getting laid tonight.”

Fred lifts me back up and spins me in his arms to George, who catches me and sways. “Hey, no complaints here,” he says before leaning into my ear. “For tonight at least, baby.” 

“Just know you’re never getting rid of us now,” Fred says with a wink as he appears at George’s side. 

I laugh and roll my eyes. “Oh, no. Whatever will I do?” I ask in a flirty and sarcastic tone. 

For hours, we drink, eat, play cards and wizard chess, and eventually put on a movie as we all lay down. We all put on ‘Zombieland’ and mostly laugh at it. After the movie, our friends are knocked out hard, and I lay down between Fred and George on my bed, stretching my arms over my head as they wrap their arms around my waist. 

Fred leans in and kisses that sweet spot right behind my ear, making me hum in pleasure. “Can you be quiet for us, little one?” He asks flirtily, drawing lazy circles on my lower stomach. 

“Why do you ask, Freddie?” I ask, loving their touches. 

Fred and George look at each other and smirk before looking at me again. “We know you said ‘no fucking,’ but we want to finger you,” George says, biting his lower lip. 

I think about it for a moment, just the thought getting me wet. “What about the others?” I ask, not saying no.

Fred leans over the edge of the bed and lays back down next to me. “They’re passed out. We may or may not have put a sleeping potion in the bottle they were drinking from,” Fred says with a wink. “As long as you don’t get too loud, they won’t wake up.” 

I nod my head and bite my lower lip as Fred and George rub my thighs, making me clench them together. Maybe I’m crazy, but after all the teasing today, I need a release. “And you two are okay with not going all the way?” I ask, double-checking. 

“Completely,” they whisper together with devious smirks. 

“Plus, you deserve a reward after today,” George says, kissing my neck as his fingers trail up the inner part of my thigh, making them fall open on their own. 

“Mm, okay,” I hum softly. “I’m in.” 

“That’s our good girl,” Fred praises. “Just lay your pretty little head back and relax while we take care of you.” 

George quietly pulls back the covers and positions himself between my thighs. His fingers graze over my skin as he moves up the waistband of my sleep shorts, setting off sparks wherever he touches. He pulls down my shorts and panties, and his tongue pokes out to lick his bottom lip. “Mm, fuck. She’s glistening, Fred,” he smirks and looks at Fred next to me. 

Fred leans down to look at my pussy, making me blush as a low groan escapes his chest. “So wet for us, huh, little one?” 

I whimper with need at their words as Fred moves back to lean over me from my side. “Yes,” I moan softly as George swipes one finger painfully slow between my folds. 

Fred removes my shirt, leaving me bare before them. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he praises me as he leans down and takes one of my nipples into his mouth, drawing another small moan from my lips. 

George rubs slow circles around my sensitive clit as he slides one finger, then another, inside of me. “So tight and wet,” George praises. 

“Fuck, yes, just like that,” I moan as George starts to thrust his fingers in and out faster.

 “You like that, little one?” Fred asks as he switches nipples, pinching and rolling the one he was just sucking. 

“Yes, mm, I love it,” I moan, rolling my hips to meet George’s fingers. He pulls them out, making me whimper at the loss until I feel him shift, and his tongue meets my clit, licking and sucking on it as he slides two fingers back into me, curling and thrusting them in a delicious rhythm. “God, yes, George,” I moan, my back arching. 

George moans against my clit as his arm wraps around my hip and thigh, holding me in place. “You taste fucking devine,” he groans. 

Fred swallows my moans as he kisses me deeply, taking my bottom lip between his teeth. “Fred,” I moan softly when he pulls back. “I want to suck your cock,” I whimper against his lips. 

Fred chuckles darkly against my lips. “Is that so, little one?” he asks. I nod my head with another moan as George sucks my clit again. “How do you ask?” Fred teases me. 

“Freddie, please,” I moan softly, one of my hands moving down to clutch George’s hair as he laps at my clit and thrusts his fingers inside of me faster. 

Fred sits up, pulling down his pajama pants and boxers, freeing his long and hard cock. My mouth waters at the large size of it. I part my lips, sticking out my tongue to accept his cock in my mouth as he slides it in. “Fuck, you look so good with my cock in your mouth, little one,” Fred praises me. “Doesn’t she, George?” He turns and asks George with a groan as I take him deeper. 

“Like a fucking vision, Fred,” George says breathily before going back to my clit, flicking it fast with his tongue and making me mewl around Fred’s cock. 

I take his cock deeper in my throat, swallowing around him and hollowing my cheeks to create more suction as I bob my head up and down his long shaft. “Yes, just like that,” he moans, tilting his head back. “Fuck, switch me, George. I need to taste her now,” Fred groans. 

“Mm, don’t mind if I do,” George groans as he withdraws his fingers, and they switch places, making me whimper. 

“Needy, aren’t we, little one?” Fred teases me as he settles between my thighs and licks a long, slow line from my entrance to my clit. I hum and nod my head, making him smirk. “Guess we better take care of you then,” he winks and plunges his tongue into my entrance. 

I gasp as my back arches, and I grab the sheets of my bed. “Shh, don’t want to wake anyone,” George chuckles as he leans down and kisses me deeply, letting me taste myself on his tongue. “Mm, you want to suck my cock too, baby?” George asks me as he bites my lower lip. 

“Yes, Georgie, fuck, I want it,” I moan as he pulls down his pants and boxers. I grasp George’s cock, taking it into my mouth as Fred’s tongue moves to my clit and his fingers thrust into me harshly, making me whimper. 

“My God, you taste so good,” Fred groans against my clit, adding a perfect amount of vibration. My thighs attempt to clamp together around his head as I moan, taking George further down my throat. Fred forces them back open and thrusts three fingers inside of me. “Keep your fucking legs open,” he demands. The roughness of his hands, the demanding voice, and his sinfully skilled fingers only drive me closer and closer to the edge. 

I pull back off of George’s cock, stroking his cock and taking a breath of air. “Fuck, I’m going to cum,” I moan pathetically as my legs begin to shake. 

George thrusts his cock back into my mouth, gathering my hair in his hand and holding my head still as he starts to fuck my throat. “Good girl, cum for us, baby,” he moans, biting his lower lip. 

“Cum on my face like our good little slut,” Fred orders as he flicks my clit with his tongue faster and thrusts his fingers into me harder, curling his fingers and hitting that perfect spot inside of me. 

I force myself to take George in my throat all the way to his base, gagging around him as my orgasm starts to crest. “God, yes. Swallow my fucking cum, baby,” George moans as his cock twitches in my throat. My legs begin to shake uncontrollably as George spills himself down my throat, sending me right over the edge myself. His cock barely contains my moans as Fred holds my hands down at my sides, riding me through my orgasm with his devilish tongue as I swallow every drop of his twin’s cum. 

When George pulls himself out of my throat, he kisses me harshly, not caring about tasting himself on my lips. I pull back with a gasp as I look down at Fred. “Freddie, I want you to cum down my throat, too,” I plead. I had only just cum, and I already need more. 

Fred smirks and bites his lip as he comes up to my other side. “Your wish is my command. Open up, little one,” he instructs me as he presses his cock to my lips. “Fuck, that mouth,” Fred groans as I take him to the base, and he grips my hair tight. 

George’s fingers find their way back to my sensitive clit, rubbing circles around the tender nub. “I want you to be a good girl and cum for us again. Can you do that for us, baby?” he teases as his fingers slide to my entrance and back to my clit. I nod against Fred’s cock, and he harsh;y pulls me off of his cock by my hair, making me whimper. 

“He asked you a question. Use your words, little one. Are you going to be our good girl?” Fred asks in a low, demanding voice that makes me fucking feral. 

“Yes,” I hiss as he pulls my hair harder, only making me more wet. 

“Yes, what?” He groans, his cock twitching as the tip drips with pre-cum. 

“Yes, I’ll be your good girl,” I answer, sticking out my tongue and licking the slit on his cock where his pre-cum is dripping.

Fred hisses, and a low growl comes from his throat. “That’s our good girl,” George praises as he thrusts three fingers into my entrance, as his thumb rubs my clit. “Such a good little slut for us. Cum all over my fingers, baby,” George moans as my legs begin to shake. 

Fred pulls me off of his cock again. “Who’s good little girl, are you?” He teases me. 

“Yours and Georgie’s,” I moan softly. 

“That’s fucking right,” Fred groans as he thrusts himself inside of my mouth again and starts to fuck my throat. I feel myself come undone as Fred cums down my throat, shooting hot, salty ropes of cum down my throat, holding my head still as he gives me every drop. I feel my walls clench around George’s fingers, moaning and whimpering pathetically around Fred’s cock. 

When Fred pulls himself from my throat, he grabs my throat and slams his lips to mine as George fixes his pants and puts my shorts and panties back on, leaving soft, gentle kisses up my legs. “Woman, you’re going to be the death of me,” Fred whispers against my lips. 

“I could say the same to you two,” I whisper back as George lays back down next to me. 

Fred chuckles and sits me up, sliding my shirt back on and laying down on my other side. “You good, baby?” George asks me, drawing lazy circles on my hips. 

I smile and nod as I look at him. “So good,” I say quietly as Fred runs his fingers through my hair. “I don’t think I’ve ever cum that hard in my life,” I giggle. 

Fred chuckles and kisses my neck softly. “You say that now, little one. Just wait until we get our cocks buried inside of you.” 

“We’ll wear you out,” George flirts with a wink. 

“Mm,” I hum, satisfied as I close my eyes and yawn. “Can’t wait.”

“Goodnight, beautiful,” Fred says, kissing me good night. 

“Goodnight, Freddie,” I say against his lips. 

George tilts my face to him, holding my chin with his thumb and forefinger. “Goodnight, my love.” 

“Goodnight, Georgie,” I say, kissing him just before sleep pulls me under with their arms wrapped around my waist.

[the-mellow-drama]

Another drabble (who is she)

nsfw, explicit sexual content, minors do not engage,

beta'd by EastWindmlk

It was risky to be sneaking around the Ministry, fucking in broom closets and bathrooms, occasionally sucking him off under his desk but Hermione wouldn't have it any other way. It was supposed to be just a mutually beneficial relationship, a way of easing the tension after a long day. Of course, they never went to each other's places; they would simply wait for Ernie to close up and then they would meet each other in an abandoned office or a broom closet. 

But the last time they ever fucked in secret; Draco told her he needed more and if she didn’t like that, she could find someone else.

"This isn't just sex anymore, Hermione, you know that." For Merlin's sake, they were even calling each other by their first name!

"No-Draco, I-" Hermione stuttered, grabbing up her skirt and torn knickers. He would destroy them every time, pleased with the idea of her Apparating home with no knickers on. "I can't, Draco," Hermione sighed, sliding the zipper up her thigh and smoothing out the fabric, busying her hands so that he couldn't see them shake. 

She turned to leave but stopped as she heard Draco say, "If you leave, that's it. You can find someone else to satisfy your needs,”  he spit out the last word as if it was such a burden for him. "Don't act like you didn't get anything out of this. I'm sure it was so challenging to have regular orgasms, Malfoy." The name tumbles past her lips, and she regrets them instantly.

Draco straightens up to his full height, wiping the fleeting look of panic from his face as he sneers down at her. "Fine. Have a good evening, Granger. " He emphasizes her last name, steps past her, and walks out the door, leaving Hermione alone and very, very confused. 

***

Their… ‘arrangement’...had begun very suddenly. It was only supposed to happen one time; exhausted, Hermione had walked a stack of files down to Draco’s office, her eyes drooping shut as he walked her through the case he had been assigned. 

“Granger, are you listening to me?” Draco asked and Hermione’s eyes shot open.

“What were you saying?”

 Draco has smiled at her devilishly and stood up, slowly walking around to sit in front of the chair Hermione was occupying.

“You look stressed, Granger.” He had said and Hermione couldn’t understand why she wanted to pull him toward her and kiss him. “It’s just work. Nothing to worry about.” But he had called her back. 

He offered, "just to take the edge off things" and Hermione had been more than happy to bend over and let someone take care of her, even though it was her childhood nemesis.

After that, they stopped by whenever one of them needed a physical release, usually it was more for Hermione’s benefit than Draco’s, but he assured her it was no problem at all. She would bend over her desk, and he would eat her out until she was so close to orgasm and then he would pull away, sliding his pants down and groaning as he filled her, holding her close to him as she rode out her climax. 

After Harry almost caught them in the locker rooms after a Ministry Quidditch game, they decided that they needed to be more careful going forward. Draco and Hermione decided that staying late after work would be best, considering they already worked late most nights anyway. 

***

Hermione went home that night and drowned her sorrows in a bubble bath with slow jazz music playing in the background. Crookshanks, her scraggly orange cat from Hogwarts rounded the corner of the bathroom, peeked in on her, and then stalked away, seemingly uninterested in her unrequited feelings for a certain blond prat. 

***

A week later, Hermione was an hour late to work, the night before was spent tossing and turning as she fitfully tried to sleep.

Honestly, it was embarrassing that she was this hung up on him. It was supposed to be just sex, but somewhere along the lines, it shifted into something… nice. And comfortable.

She would stop by his office for a quick shag but by the end, they would end up on the couch, sparring about work. Hermione would argue one point and Draco would do his best to convince her she was wrong.

The day before a particularly brutal court case. He would drill her on the facts, statistics, and evidence she was presenting until she stopped stumbling and tripping over her words and met his eyes with a quiet ferocity that spoke to how much the case meant to her. 

When she felt satisfied with the argument, she would present to the Wizengamot, Draco would crush her to his chest and whisper praises into her hair. She would smile and slowly unbutton his dress shirt and, in time they were sweaty and boneless on the couch. 

That afternoon, having got nothing done, she made her way to his corner office. A nice quiet space that resembled him, oddly. Simple furniture and a plant here and there, elegant and understated. 

She knocked on the door, a quick two raps of her knuckles, a pause, and then three more. If this was before, he would already be pulling his tie from his neck and slipping his shoes off. Instead, he simply stated, “Come in,” in a bored and uninterested tone.

Hermione slipped through the door and smiled sheepishly. She had enough foresight to bring a folder on the Donovan case, her appearance to the Wizengamot only days away. She held it up and shrugged. 

“For old time sakes?” She asked and Draco nodded, albeit a bit hesitantly. He asked her the same questions he normally would, attempting to catch her off guard or get her to trip up but his heart wasn’t in it. He looked as though he was waiting for it to be over. When he was satisfied, he closed the file and passed it back to her. 

“You’re ready,” Draco stated simply, and Hermione smiled again. 

“So, how are you?” she asked. Draco scowled.

“Don’t pretend to care for my well-being. Merlin knows you didn’t when you ended things.” He said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

His reaction made Hermione gasp. “Me!? You’re the one that said this was ‘over’!” Hermione shrieked and normally, she would have the decency to be embarrassed but she couldn’t bring herself to feel anything except anger. 

“I said I needed more, and you threw it back into my face,” Draco said, standing up and looming over her. 

“I thought you were having a go, Malfoy! Why the fuck else would you want ‘more’ with me?”

“Because I fucking fell for you!” He shouted and Hermione gaped at him. Draco scoffed and fell back into his chair. “Now you know, and you can leave.” Draco finalized but Hermione shook her head. “You fell for me?” She narrowed her eyes disbelievingly. The notion was laughable. 

“Of course I did, you dolt I fell for our arguments and your hair after we fucked and your smile when I would congratulate you and our quiet conversations about our favorite books.” Draco leaned forward in his chair and continued.

 “Our lunch conversations and our sex in the broom closets, but it wasn’t enough. And you wouldn’t want more, and I knew that and it felt like the easiest way to end it for both of us.” Draco finished quietly and Hermione stalled for a second before smiling and closed the distance between them. She ducked down and instinctively, Draco’s hands wrapped around her waist. “And you didn’t realize that I fell for you, you absolute git” She pressed her lips to his and her body sang, and heart fluttering.

Draco kissed her back just as intensely, standing up and spinning them around so that she sat in his chair instead. 

He kneeled before her and slid his hands up the back of her bare thighs, groaning at the feeling of her soft, warm skin under his palms. He grabbed her legs and dropped her feet on his thighs, working on the straps of her shoes.

When her shoes were off, he kissed her knees and her legs fell apart. His breath ghosted up her skin, and Hermione shivered, biting back a moan. His fingers pushed her skirt up, baring her lace knickers to him and he sighed.

“I’m going to take my time with you now, Granger. Gonna make you mine,” he told her, and Hermione stammered.

“Yes, Draco–please–” she was cut off as his fingers slowly pulled her knickers to the side and he thumbed her clit. He groaned against her thigh.

“You’re so wet for me, Hermione. Gods, you’re beautiful–” He delved between her thighs, and she sighed as he licked up slit, grazing his teeth along her clit nestled between her folds. “You taste divine. All for me,” he rasped, and Hermione let out a shaky breath. “All yours, Draco–” Hermione sighed, and Draco groaned again before pushing up off the floor, eliciting a whine from the witch on his chair. “Need to have you, Granger–please,” he begged, and Hermione was more than happy to oblige.  

He pulled her up and dragged her over to the couch that they had become intimately familiar with. She sprawled out on the couch after peeling off her skirt and practically ripping off her shirt, revealing her lacy brallete to him. She could have sworn he stopped breathing. 

Draco slowly crawled up the length of her, kissing every inch of her exposed skin until he met her lips.

“After this, you’re mine, Granger. Fucking swear it,” he demanded as he bit the skin of her neck and she keened. “Yes, Draco. Please–” Hermione whined and reached for his pants, unbuttoning them and pushing them down his thighs. He grabbed hold of his cock and sliding it between her legs, her arousal coating him, lined himself up, taking one last look at her reverent gaze before slowly filling her.

He couldn’t describe the feeling as anything other than coming home. She clenched around him perfectly, and he couldn’t help but drop to his elbows and bury his face in her neck, whimpering into her skin. 

He filled her until she came, her fingers desperately clutching his hair. He came after, fingers curled around her hair as he shivered before stilling, falling on top of her. 

Hermione carded her fingers through his hair, combing it back off his forehead. He kissed her neck, grabbed her hand, lacing it tightly in his much larger grip, and kissed her knuckles. 

“All mine, Granger. You’ll never get rid of me now,” he told her jokingly, and she laughed. 

“Good, I have no intention of letting you go any time soon.”

[jackiequick]

The day she got brought in | Agents Of SHIELD Fanfic

Summary: What if the thing you were waiting for came at the the wrong time? Or in Amelia Parker’s case, when she was street racing in Puerto Rico to let off a little steam after being rejected by her schools.

Pairing: Amelia Parker & Grant Ward, Rick Banner x Luna Marsh

Characters mentioned: Phil Coulson, Bobbi Morse, Lance Hunter, Grant Ward, Melissa Wallace and etc.

——

It’s been months. But it felt like years for her. She has been told time and time again she wasn’t surely good enough to be apart of certain schools. Regretted time and time for the schools she applied to. Only two accepted her but she wasn’t too pleased.

She never wanted to go to college to be exact.

But she need a career. She wanted a future.

Something interesting.

So she applied for SHIELD Academy at a certainly young age. She knew that SHIELD existed ever since she just a little girl, especially after the accident that happened at Stark Expo.

She thought there was a huge possibility that she would get in. Her cousin, Peter Parker, parents were agents of shield themselves before they died. On top of that, her aunt Bobbi and uncle Hunter are agents as well!

So she studied, practiced her skills and tried to explain herself in every letter as a someone who deserved a chance. A chance to help SHIELD future agents and heroes. Since Amelia was good at boxing, had a huge hand when it came to sewing, believing she’s pretty okay with a computer and had communication skills. Also well as scouting places and some design.

However after every letter and application, she kept getting rejected.

Then she thought it about, why am I not surprised? My grades aren’t too good, my only concern is that I’m too emotional for the field and my records were bad.

~~~~~

She’s a street kid for gods sake! Her actions didn’t measure up, hanging out with a so called “wrong crowd” according to the police, stealing parts and racing borrowed cars while earning cash on the side. The girl sounded like a young criminal.

And honestly she didn’t care, she loved it. The music, the people, the rush you get from being behind the wheel, the talks and the community built around it. The type of people she met made her smile.

There wasn’t too many rules and no one questioned whether you were good enough. Because if you ask a racer, any real racer doesn’t matter if you win by a inch or a mile, winning is winning. It’s all about passion and love for the lifestyle.

Currently she sat behind her wheel, sliding down towards the area where everyone was at. Her mind was running a mile a minute.

Puerto Rico baby! The smell of food from the streets, the music blasting from cars, people chatting with one another, laughing being shared. The men in and women were dresses in the best mood you ever seen.

People from every race and backgrounds crowded the area. It felt like heaven

Amelia parked her blue skyline in a perfect scene nearby a few shaded orange, deep green and hot rod red cars. She was dressed black short skirt, a deep gray top and a red flannel. Black sneaker. Her curls were loosely bouncing around as she walked over to a small group.

“Ahh! Look who showed up!” Yelled Nico giving her a hug.

“Girl we thought you weren’t gonna make it.” Shouted Kira chuckling.

“Be nice, be nice! She was just fashionably late to the party.” Added Jesse, joking around holding up his cash for tonight.

The group walked and talked, grabbing a bite to eat as they catches up with one another. Talking about their deals and how they were planning a small heist for extra gasoline to sell at Jesse’s shop. But first Amelia need to check out the competition and sneak into other locations to exchange a few items.

They were in a middle questioned when she asked.

Amelia rolled her eyes chuckling, “Your hilarious, all of you. Who’s the racing tonight?”

“Ok I’ll tell you!” Nico explained everyone who racing that night and even added, “You see the tall blonde over there with the pretty brunette around his arms? They’re racing the first round tonight.”

It nighttime so she couldn’t see them too well. Still she tried to looked over across the crowd, to see blonde with dark eyes carrying a cheeky grin.

And his girlfriend was wearing a puffy jacket and shyly giggles to what he was talking about. She taught they must’ve been an adorable little couple, secretly ready to wipe the floor with them.

She didn’t think too much of it. However her friend, Kira, was more interested in how they raced.

But they didn’t have to wait for long, since the moment Kira said, “Ready, set, go!”

They were off. And they were fasted! Rushing around the stores, turning up the furious speed, passing through a crowd of cars, and sliding across small obstacles to get to the finish line.

Impressive. Very impressive. 

The brunette won first, and a few others coming in at a close second. She screamed and smiled shyly at winning as one of the other racer went to congratulate her. The rest of the crowd clapped and cheered.

But Amelia wasn’t paying too much attention as she clapped, checking her phone and the corners of the road behind them.

Hoping cops didn’t came. Watching their backs.

When it was her time to race in the second round, she jumped into her skyline and joked with the other racers.

Once again, Kira started yelling loudly “Go!”. Amelia made it and snappy.

Turning up the NOS when needed, taking a left turn to pass another car and even flipped off another race who tried to cut her off. Speeding off, switching on the radio, laughing and watching the other cars driven past her.

In the end, she didn’t win but she didn’t care. She had fun feeling the rush behind the wheel, being free in her seat and all her worries were thrown away focused on the road instead.

But she hopes were broken, as Jesse yelled out, “Cops are coming!”

Her eyes widen muttering, “Shit!”

~~~~~

Everyone jumped into their races, speeding off quicker than expected. Once she hoped she was out of clear an hour later, Amelia sneaked into an small old facility of full cars.

She held up her flashlight towards the back end of each vehicle.

Beautiful. Each one styled differently and wonderfully useful.

She looked around to find the place empty as she snapping pictures and started to pop off the hood of an car.

The girl was lucky to find a gorgeous cherry red convertible. Hell, she would kill to just have this for a drive to the beach.

Before she could get her hands on soft inventor and possibly get a better look at this reliable beauty…

..she heard it.

She turned off her phone as she started rushing to hide behind boxes and corners. But she was too late.

She woke up, in the hallway nearby the exist. Blinking she turned to face a young man, not even 20 yet with dark hair and brown eyes.

He wasn’t bad but stupid.

“Eugene. I meant nothing.” She told him, with a sigh.

He chuckled, “So why the hell are you here?”

“You were hoarding cars, jackass!”

“They’re mine, babygirl and I’mma use them.”

“Ha! You stole half of them and redesigned the older ones. Pumping up the gasoline and ordering NOS.”

“You need a 5-second car.”

“10 second car. And I was just looking over them, honest.”

Eugene scoff, “You’re not half bad, Ames. But you gotta know not to mess with me.”

“I’m not sure about that. Be lucky it wasn’t, Jesse or Nico. You had worse than us.” She added, knowing they would do something crazier than her.

“Don’t ever come around here again!”

“No promises!”

Eugene made a move to grab her but she elbowed him in the face. He spinner her around, pushing her against the wall but she kicked him where the sun don’t shine.

~~~~

Amelia made a run for it, still ending up with a bruise or two. Pulling out her mini pistol, just in case. She wasn’t the greatest at theses things but still she tried her best.

She walked down the street, popping up her jacket and started up her engine driving off.

But when she thought her night couldn’t get any odder or worse. The polices she raced from earlier found her.

Amelia was thrown into a cell, hearing the police report about her as the cops walked away. She tried to defend her case but they only have half listened.

They cleared her up for the self defense part but still pissed off about what she did.

It was no use per say.

Amelia’s face dropped. It wasn’t her first time running around from the cops and getting caught up in a mess and it sadly won’t be her last.

It was the trill of life. She sighed as tears came rolling in, mumbling how stupid she was. No career, no school, no actually friends and possibly no one to bail her out.

Disappointed.

She was a good girl or at least that’s what she wants to believe.

She always did schoolwork but never past a lot of classes cause no one took the chance on her. Actually help her understand it! She treated her family with respect, earned money during races to help pay the bills, worked low jobs and such.

But never got a chance to prove herself, they always tell her that she need experience and or worse, no one believed she had the true patience to get a job done.

Everything felt like a balancing act for her. Keep her head up, even when she wants to keep it down.

Playing up the act of the cool, confident, somewhat edgy and sweet girl. The wannabe bad bitch who gossips, talks shit about others and let’s the rumors fly in.

But she ain’t really that. Yeah sure, she got a temper, gets stressed out easily sometimes and has a thick glare that meant she got shit she wants to get done, but still.

She doesn’t know want she wants. No one ever does.

“Miss Parker?” Said a male voice, light but thick.

She turned to face the man, standing up wiping her tears to get a better look. To her surprise it was too men.

One younger and somewhat fresher faced than the other. They were wearing all black, comb hair expect for the younger one who’s hair was a little messy, wearing sensitive shoes and shared a gentle expression.

“W-who are you?” She asked, softly with hitched voice.

“Agent Coulson from SHIELD.” Said the man, “You’re having one hell of a day, huh?”

“Grant Ward.” Said the other one with a half smile, “You’re younger than expected.”

She blinked with tears trying to figure it out how this happened and asked, “Wh-what? I—how?…oh god.”

“I know it’s tricky to explain. But we’re here to help.” Coulson said, seeing the poor look in her eyes.

“Really? No offense, but where were you months ago?! I sent letters, applications for programs, video of myself for a visual idea of who I am…”

“I’m sorry we didn’t come soon but you were rejected for some of our supervisors believing you were not trying enough.”

“Hell, I saw that videos and it was a little dry. Besides, you sounded like it wasn’t serious enough..” Ward added.

“Your hilarious, Ward.” Amelia replied with a half sarcastic tone, “Sorry I wasn’t what you expected. I’m sorry that I was not perfect enough for you guys. Especially you.”

“Yet, you lack self esteem, confidence and the strength that is needed determination for something.”

“Determination?! You rejected me! You don’t take a chance on anyone.”

“But I’m not wrong. Have you seen your records? Jail time, street races for money, and stealing from second hand stores. Do your parents know about this?”

“…i um…not exactly everything…”

“Exactly. If you had any bit of respect for yourself and self care, you would deal with what you have. Look where you are now. I just see a pathetic picture of a young woman.”

“Okay look, I screwed up big time! I don’t have any track record for something good or anything…but i know I can do the same thing as you! I’m sorry for what happened..”

“Sorry?! You don’t know what you want or what exactly is your play here. ”

“Hey! I don’t—”

Coulson spoke up, “Enough! Ward, play nice, not everyone has their hands full time in the world as you. And Parker, I understand that you’re not sure where you stand. I apologize on SHIELD behavior, but I was given a chance to see your responses..”

“And? Coulson, you and Ward clearly just came to do what? Bail me out or something? I’m a idiot according to him and he’s right..” Amelia admitted, sadly.

“He’s wrong. You done some bad things because you don’t feel comfortable or worth other peoples time. Your smart, kind, seemed determined to race together even if you didn’t win—”

“You saw?!”

“I did. Or at least I scout here who used to work with me did. But Amelia you’re not an idiot, you just need someone who can give you a chance to try and do good. Because you are good.”

“Who told you that? I’m not smart enough to pass a few simple classes or good enough for you before. You guys didn’t give me a chance to prove that I’m good for something…”

“Because I wasn’t there before and I didn’t have agent Lance Hunter to tell me about you. Your not exactly school smart for certain things, but your street smart and clever with a lot of stuff. Your easygoing, sometimes honest and if I’m correct, you see a lot in someone.”

“I..um..”

“I’m being honest when I say your not bad. Never were, just chose to go do something that others think is wrong. I’ll like a give you a chance to come study and work together with SHIELD. You may be nervous and not feel ready for it now, but I believe you might be.”

Amelia stay speechless hearing Agent Coulson’s words and the recommendations he heard from Hunter. She didn’t know that part. The only person other than her stepdad and mother to speak like that to her.

Even Ward had to admit to himself he read the whole letters and applications, finding it actually charming. He didn’t know what Coulson saw in her but he kinda like it.

The only thing she could do was nod rapidly because of how tired she was and unable to comprehend what happened. It’s late. It’s 1:40am.

And she was just offered to be apart of something she didn’t expect to get after wishing and imaging the role.

Ward went to front desk to bail her out with a smile. Once she was let out of her cell, she thanked Ward as he apologized for his comments earlier. He told her that he’s welcome to help her with any needs

Then she turned to Coulson with tears in her eyes once again, thanking him. He smiled softly pulling her in a hug, knowing she needed it.

Phil held her in his arms, whispering kind words.

Honestly he felt bad, he didn’t catch onto her case earlier and made a decision to bend the SHIELD Academy rules.

He would need to speak with Fury and Hill but he knew there were plenty of people like her who needed a chance to be heard.

He remembered that Darcy Lewis had a daughter as well with a interesting case, he decided to possibly message Hill later about that. Plenty of cases of young folk who would be suitable for SHIELD or a Team in the future, but they need that push to do so.

Coulson smiled, walking out with Ward and Amelia in his thoughts. He wondered what if they were to recruit a set of young people one day, they definitely deserve a chance to be seen or heard.

Amelia snapped him out of his thought, “So um, when do we—I start my studies?”

Ward spoke up instead with a soft smile to her answers, “Soon. In about less than a month. You will have me and a few other people to help you along the way, Miss Parker.”

“You can all me Amelia.”

“Then you can me Grant.”

Both smile, exchanging phone numbers. Coulson told her a few more things before they brought her back to the hotel she was staying at.

~~~~~

Once Amelia said her final goodbye, she locked the door to her room behind her and let out a small sequel as she bit her bottom lip. To say when the realization finally hit her was an understatement. She felt scared, nervous and maybe a little excited.

She wondered what if no one likes me? What if it goes bad my first day? Oh my god what if i suck and they kick me out?!

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Anxiety still in the front of her mind, but laying low.

Her mind was overwhelmed by the thoughts, as she picked up her phone to thank her uncle Hunter for the placement.

Little did she know the next few months will change her life forever.

Meeting one of her best friends Melissa Wallace, get to know a couple of crushes such as Nikolai Morozov and a few other friends. Even encourage Melissa to go on a date with a special girl. As well as a future lifetime of opportunity and memories to come.

—-

Thank you for reading! What did you think about it?

Pls like, comment, reblog and share with friends

Tags: @gaminggirlsstuff @parisparker269 @msrochelleromanofffelton @gcthvile @meiramel @hanlueluver @rooster-84 @superspookyjanelle @mandylove1000 @triptuckers @blackheart-beauty @yetanotherwells @withakindheartx and etc

[ladyinwriting18]

Dressed All In Black (Jack Gladney x You)

Summary: A new, mystery woman dressed all in black comes into Jack's classroom and captures his attention for the first time since his divorce.

Words: 1,681

Warnings: Jack having dirty thoughts but no actual smut happens. Author's Note: I can't stop thinking about Jack Gladney.

You walk into his classroom dressed from head to toe in black, except for the silver chains that hang from loops attached to the front of your knee length skirt. The chains form a sort of belt that clearly has no real function other than to draw the eye. 

However that isn’t the only thing that draws Jack in. It’s the leg warmers. 

Black, like the rest of your outfit. 

They are a true weakness of his. One he’s never quite been able to shake. He’s lost count of the amount of nights he’s spent, cock in hand, while picturing some pretty thing beneath him wearing nothing but a pair of leg warmers.

It feels undeniably sinful that he’s currently ogling a new student over an article of clothing. 

Which is what you are. 

Right? 

Who else could you be?

You’re young and attractive but you stick out like a sore thumb among the bright faces of his other students. You have a certain confidence about you. One that in Jack’s experience comes with experience and age. 

But if you aren’t a student, then what the hell are you doing in his classroom? 

The clock chimes, signaling the start of class. With a room full of minds waiting to be molded, Jack is forced to tear his attention away from you. 

An unfortunate turn of events since he could have spent the rest of the day staring at you from across the room. 

You look so beautiful and soft. It stirs a hunger in him. 

One that he hadn’t felt since before his most recent divorce. He had sworn off relationships after his last heartbreak. He had thought Babette was his equal, but the sting of her betrayal tainted all that. 

And though he truly tried to, Jack hadn’t been able to forgive her for letting another man touch her. No matter what her reasoning was, it was still adultery. 

It’s behind him now. Instead he keeps his focus elsewhere. On teaching and being a good father. 

That is until you came into his classroom and fucked it all up. He can’t even get through a full sentence without wondering what your skin tastes like. 

It usually takes more than a pretty face to stop Jack Gladney in his tracks, but something tells him you’re much more than that.

You shine like a black diamond in a sea of colors. Everyone around you is more or less dressed the same. But not you.

You are so unique and striking that it takes all of his will power not to possess you like a collectors item that needs to be kept safe on a shelf. 

Jack is fully aware of how inappropriate these thoughts are. Relationships between teachers and students are strictly forbidden. Touching you could destroy everything he’s worked so hard to build. Who would teach Hitler studies if he went and got himself fired? 

Right now the risk felt worth the price. Obviously that’s the lust talking. No one thinking rationally would throw away tenure on a whim. Perhaps this is the culprit of one too many sleepless nights. Jack hated sleeping alone. Unfortunately, purposely remaining single doesn’t leave one with many options. Regardless, that must be where this tidal wave of passion is coming from. He’s certain if he can just make it through the rest of his lecture, he’ll be able to detangle you from his mind. You were just a student for Christ's sake. You didn’t deserve to be the target of his lecherous thoughts. The sooner he got away from you, the better. 

Of course class drags on and on and on. He’s sure his students feel it too. Especially because he can’t seem to fully commit to his usual passionate teaching methods. He’s letting the entire class down but any time he looks over at you, you smile. 

Nothing else seems to matter after that. He’s doing a piss poor job at ignoring you. Why is time moving SO slow? The clock chimes, alerting all to the conclusion of class. Jack nearly swears out loud in relief. He’s desperate to get out of there. You’ve clouded his mind far too much. He wishes he could fault you for it, but it’s his own weakness that’s made him needy.  He dismisses them in a rush and informs them there won’t be in his office for any after hour questions. Usually he took his time conversating with his students, but not today. No, today he needs to be alone. With his leather satchel packed Jack turns to leave but instead comes face to face with his newest student. 

You stand before him in all your glory with a smile spread across your lips. As if you already know you have him by the balls. 

What he wouldn’t give to be balls deep in that—

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Professor Gladney.”

The sound of you speaking breaks him from his thoughts. 

Your voice is warm with a sensual flare, like eating dessert before dinner. 

As if you couldn’t get any more alluring. 

“You’re new here at the college.” 

What an astute observation.

Jack wishes he could disappear rather than stand here continuing to make a fool of himself. 

You nod with a giggle and introduce yourself. He repeats your name back to you, letting it roll off his tongue like a prayer. The twinge of color that rises in your cheeks doesn’t go unnoticed. Could it be that you’re feeling as hot and bothered as he is? You hold out your hand to him. Jack takes it, knowing he’s meant to shake your hand but finds himself wondering if you’d enjoy the feeling of his lips against your wrist. 

“You know Professor, if you’re going to keep staring then you might as well buy me dinner first.” 

The free hand at his side twitches, itching to gag you with one of your leg warmers while he spanks you over his knee for your sass. 

If you wanted to play then so could he. He drops your hand and gives you a stern look.

“Is that really an appropriate thing to say to your professor?” 

“My professor?” You look just as confused as you sound. 

Before Jack can respond you stifle your laughter with a hand covering your mouth while the other reaches out to grasp his elbow. You seem to be using it to steady yourself as you attempt to talk in between fits of laughter. 

“I’m sorry for laughing. I know that I shouldn’t, but I’m not a student.” He truly doesn’t know if he should laugh from job or cry at his own stupidity. “You’re….you’re not? But you came and sat in on my class.” You’re starting to get your laughter under control, but you don’t move your hand away from his arm. “The College president gave me permission to explore around campus. He told me your lecture should be my first stop. Did he not tell you?” He shakes his head, still at a loss for who you are. “He didn’t.” Your face instantly falls into a frown, “He said that he would. Now I’ve intruded on you teaching without your permission. I’m so sorry!” “Please don’t apologize. I’m the one who feels rather foolish for not knowing who you are.” “I’m the new professor of fashion trends throughout history.” That explained your unique clothing style but not— “You’re a professor? But you’re so young.” He might as well have called you ugly with how offput you look from his comment. “Yes, well, I just graduated. This will be my first year teaching.” Jack's expression softens. He could remember his first day teaching like it was yesterday. You are a part of the new generation of educators. He can’t help but be in awe of that. “Your first year of teaching is a wondrous thing. Congratulations on getting the position.” Finding no malice in his tone you beam up at him with a smile so genuinely happy that Jack hopes to keep the image of it etched in his mind. “Thank you Professor Gladney! If I’m honest, I’m a tad nervous. There are so many great teachers working here. It’s a little intimidating.”

The vulnerability he sees in you only endears him to you even more. Now he can see that under all that beauty is a human being. “Even greatness has to start somewhere. Try to remember that we were once all in your shoes. Oh, and please, call me Jack.” You nod in agreement, “That’s great advice. Thank you for being kind, Jack.” God does his name sound good spilling from your lips. He smiles back at you while pushing his blue tinted glasses back into place. “Anytime. I’ll be looking forward to getting to know my fellow educator.” You giggle again, softer this time and momentarily bite your bottom lip before once again meeting his gaze.

“I’m looking forward to the same. Although I am sorry for making that joke about you staring. I was only teasing. I hope you can forgive me.” Something in the back of Jack’s mind tells him to be bold. He’d been burned by love before, but love had never looked anything like you. “I deserved it. I was staring.” Your expression changes to one of shock. You look like you want to say something but Jack takes a step forward to invade your space. His next few words are nothing but a low growl. “Honestly I still am.” You cock your hip to the side. That smooth confidence that you had when you waltzed in returns and heightens ten fold. “You can stare at me all you like while we have dinner.” Jack grins, the feeling of youth pumping through his veins. “How does tonight at 7:00 sound?” “Sounds like you’ve got yourself a date, Professor.” You write down your address before turning to leave. Jack doesn’t take his eyes off you. His gaze is fixated on the sway of your hips.

All the while thinking—

God bless fashion trends throughout history.

[ateliaers]

alright so usually when it comes to my muses & their appearance, unless i’m like, drawing directly from the source ( i.e. film & t.v. based muses ) i try to steer clear of like, just pointing at their face claims & being like yeah they’re wearing exactly this because i just … prefer not to, it’s a me thing, i just like to fuck around in my head with their wardrobe & stuff but in this case …

okay rapunzel wouldn’t wear exactly this because it’s fucking hideous. like no offence to the costumers of this show, & the others of its ilk ( based on the gregory books / starz historicals, guilty pleasures & banes of my life that they are ) because some of the outfits do fuck severely but this is absolutely not one of them. i don’t even think you tried at all gold star meme in regards to historical accuracy. however, one of the things about rapunzel’s life is that gothel hand - made the vast majority of her clothes for her as she grew, & taught her to sew & work off of patterns to do the same before she was brought to the tower when she was around eleven years old, & from about fourteen onwards, most of her clothes were made entirely by herself. & for the sake of being able to swap things around, & get extra wear out of certain pieces, that meant bodices with detachable sleeves á la what’s going with this outfit if you squint, & very few all – in – one dresses that weren’t like, nightgowns or chemises because being able to mix & match is great when your favourite skirt still fits, but the associated blouse is too small & needs to be recycled into something else.

& the amount of care she puts into her clothing, be it in presentation or construction, depends both on how well she’s doing mentally at the time, & how frequently gothel is visiting her. she can’t get fabric by herself. she’s entirely dependent on her mother showing up with it, & showing up with enough of it, & so she tries to make her outfits as consistent as she can, but there has been periods of time where she’s outgrowing old clothes faster than she can make them just because of the logistics of getting enough material for her to even try. she’s good at unpicking old pieces & recycling, but you can only do that so much before the fabric’s worn & threadbare & looks terrible no matter how you decorate it. & when she’s in a good state of mind, she does like to dress nice, she does like to wear her best clothes, because what is she waiting for ? a special occasion ? a party ? she’s convinced she’s never leaving the tower ― she might as well look good while she’s in there. but when the old depression creeps in & everything gets too much, care for her looks goes out the window, & she wears whatever comes to hand with no thoughts for co - ordination, if she can even bring herself to dress at all, & that’s when you end up with something like the outfit above, where nothing really matches, & everything just looks odd, & off.

all this to say, if your muse stumbles across rapunzel in her tower, there’s a fifty fifty chance she’s either done up like a storybook heroine, or she looks like a depressed tower rat. fun times either way.

[veesunderthetree]

ENG: The young woman rhythmically turned the wheel of the zippo, the springs made a characteristic click. Sparks, but no flame. “Vivienne?” Silently, a word passed her lips pursed as she held the thin cigarette Bly made. A word by no means for a woman, but suppressed by her habits and by the attitude with which the family had formed her. Sure, up to a certain point... She tried again, holding the zippo closer to her and shielding it with her hand. Finally the accursed accessed with a vigorous blaze. Obviously Bly had gassed it to the brim, she thought sarcastically. She lit it, inhaling heavily and releasing a cloud of smoke. “Vivienne?” she heard again from afar. The faint voice of a little boy. "Coming, dear." She slipped the zippo into the hidden pockets under her long green skirt, which always seemed empty but were actually full of beads, skeins of sewing thread, colored buttons scattered around the Lodge. She had to keep a certain composure but in reality she was an avid collector of colored trinkets, no less the brooches that she placed in her hair styled as best she could. Looking back on it—and she checked a minute pocket watch to be sure—it was nearly noon. Why did he call her? She followed the railing of the balcony up to the narrow wooden stairs covered with a beautiful red carpet, in the typical bright color very dear to Venice. With graceful steps and barely lifting her skirt, she walked down and straight to the source of the voice. "What happens? Canteen trouble, Raven?” The child adopted in Austria by the Lodge and now grown into a young adolescent, wrapped in his raven-like overalls, shook his head vigorously. She saw him roll his eyes in surprise. "No, it's just... how, is it lunchtime already?" “I think the waitresses are about to put pots on the tables. Hot the way you like them.” Vivienne smiled confidently, seeing his small clear eyes light up with happiness. "But tell me." “Oh, and is there dessert too today?” the little one exclaimed, before stopping again. “No, sorry, I'm lost. I can't continue with my project. It seems too complicated..." "Which? The potato shooter?” "The other. The flamethrower that doesn't explode with you when you use it." “Oh, that.” The girl rolled her eyes with a half smile. The Frazers had a certain calling for desert death, she knew. Possibly devastating everything, she knew. But getting to those levels was foolish and counterproductive: Allen, what the hell had he thought when he had commissioned those contraptions? Definitely to use them actively ... and this was why she was making arrangements with Jonathan for the maintenance of the lodge in Venice. Mina did not resent it, but the ex-lawyer Harker, mentor of the Old Guard, was decidedly more familiar and less hostile. A matter of taste, she supposed. “Tell me, what's wrong?” "It is too big! It must be wearable, but I don't know how to reduce the size of the tank and the ignition, and then it should emit a continuous jet of fire but there is the problem of overheating the components and…” “For goodness sake, Raven. You know I don't understand any of these things." "But Vivienne, you know how to create those barriers to defend yourself from shots at a distance, I thought you could, I don't know, recreate that magical effect by touching the inductors that would connect..." Vivienne broke down for a moment bringing her hands to her temples. She was starting to get confused by the boy's lively babbling, and as much as she wanted to help him, with all the good intentions in the world she still wasn't prepared to carry on a long conversation with an enthusiastic little Caped Crusader. “Darling, you need to explain in simpler terms, I already told you,” she whispered, but she was saved in time by the reprise of Raven—who had absurdly short breath times—by the knocking of the kitchen bell. "Lunch is ready!" the utterly happy, blond teenager announced, almost hopping in place. She gave her half a second and she saw him running towards the delicious target, disappearing from her sight at the first corner towards the west halls of the great building. Vivienne sighed almost relieved; she narrowed her eyes and inhaled—but her cigarette had already gone out. A "Damn!" ran away from her, but fortunately the hall was already empty. Presumably everyone had two legs and normal moving speed, so Bly would take a while to get off. Time to light up and slip away to the refectory, before Hubert got up from wherever he was sleeping (strictly on the floor) and began his considerable bulk between the doors, or a very sleepy Grayson returned from the dark caverns under construction of his abode to spend some time in male company. She argued again with the lighter, looking around to decide where to leave it. The icy figure - actually endowed with less coldness than she wanted to show - her green eyes looked for a flat surface on which to leave it in sight for the Doctor, and she found that the piano was an excellent, highly visible shelf. She let out a sigh as she got closer, because she also saw her well-placed Tarot cards, left there for some time gathering dust. "Sorry, old friends." She closed her eyes, seeing the magic within them come to life as she reached out for them. She portrayed her with a grip on her heart: the San Giorgio did not see well this practice of an illiterate witch, but it was her uncle who taught her to help her better channel the magical energies when she still did not have a mentor. Then Jean Jaque in turn had considered it an excellent method of focus. Who knew what America would have in store for its comrades, too? In a rush she grabbed them and hid them in the back of her pockets, where no one could see them. She pulled yet another "Damn" realizing that the cigarette had gone out again. She switched it back on and set the zippo upright on the piano where she was sure Bly would see it before heading towards the kitchens with the vague satisfaction of having won for once, turning the cards over and over between her fingers. ITA entry 7: La giovane girò ritmicamente la ruota dello zippo, le molle fecero un click caratteristico. Scintille, ma niente fiamma. “Vivienne?” Silenziosamente, una parola passò sulle sue labbra increspate per tenere la sottile sigaretta fatta da Bly. Una parola affatto da donna, ma sopressa dalle sue abitudini e dall’attitudine con cui la famiglia l’aveva formata. Certo, fino ad un certo momento... Ci provò di nuovo, tenendo lo zippo più vicino e facendo scudo con una mano. Finalmente il maledetto si accede con una vigorosa fiammata. Ovviamente Bly l’aveva riempito di gas fino all’orlo, pensò sarcasticamente. Accese, inspirando pesantemente e rilasciando una nube di fumo. “Vivienne?” sentì di nuovo da lontano. La flebile voce di un ragazzino. “Arrivo, caro.” Infilò lo zippo nelle tasche nascoste sotto la lunga gonna verde, che sembravano sempre vuote ma in realtà erano piene di perline, matasse di filo da cucito, bottoni colorati dispersi nella Loggia. Doveva mantenere un certo contegno ma in realtà era un’avida collezionista di gingilli colorati, non meno le spille che poneva tra i capelli acconciati alla bell’emmeglio. Ripensandoci - e controllò un minuto orologio da taschino per esserne sicura - era quasi mezzodì. Perchè chiamarla? Seguì la ringhiera del balconcino fino a delle strette scale in legno ricoperte da una bella moquette rossa, nel tipico colore luminoso molto caro a Venezia. Con passi aggraziati e sollevando appena la gonna, si diresse giù e dritta alla fonte della voce. “Che succede? Problemi alla mensa, Raven?” Il bimbo adottato in Austria dalla Loggia e oramai cresciuto in un giovane adolescente, avvolto nella sua tuta dai tratti corvini, scrollò la testa vigorosamente. Lo vide alzare gli occhi con fare sorpeso. “No, è che... come, è già ora di pranzo?” “Credo che le cameriere stiano per mettere le pignatte sui tavoli. Bollenti come piacciono a te.” Vivienne sorrise confidente, vedendo i piccoli occhi chiari illuminarsi di felicità. “Ma dimmi pure.” “Oh, e c’è anche il dolce oggi?” esclamò il piccolo, prima di interrompersi di nuovo. “No, scusa, mi sono perso. Non riesco a continuare col mio progetto. Mi sembra troppo complicato...” “Quale? Lo spara-patate?” “L’altro. Il lanciafiamme che non esplode insieme a te quando lo usi.” “Oh, quello” La ragazza sollevò gli occhi al cielo con un mezzo sorriso. I Frazer avevano una certa vocazione alla morte nel deserto, lo sapeva. Possibilmente devastando tutto, lo sapeva. Ma arrivare a quei livelli era sciocco e controproducente: Allen, che diavolo aveva pensato quando aveva commissionato quei marchingegni? Sicuramente di usarli attivamente... e questo era il motivo per cui si stava organizzando con Jonathan per il mantenimento della loggia di Venezia. Che Mina non gliene volesse, ma l’ex avvocato Harker, mentore della Vecchia Guardia, le era decisamente più familiare e meno avverso. Questione di gusti, supponeva. “E dimmi, cosa non funziona?” “E’ troppo grande! Dev’essere indossabile, ma non so come ridurre le dimensioni della tanica e l’accensione, e poi dovrebbe emettere un getto di fuoco continuo ma c’è il problema del surriscaldamento dei componenti e...” “Per l’amor del cielo, Raven. Sai che non ci capisco nulla di queste cose.” “Ma Vivienne, tu sai creare quelle barriere per difendersi dai colpi a distanza, pensavo che si potrebbe, non so, ricreare quell’effetto magico andando a toccare gli induttori che collegherebbero...” Vivienne si scompose un attimo portandosi le mani alle tempie. Iniziava ad essere confusa dal vivace blaterare del bimbo, e per quanto volesse aiutarlo, con tutte le buone intenzioni del mondo non era comunque preparata a supportare una lunga conversazione con un piccolo, entusiasta Crociato Mascherato. “Caro, devi spiegarmi con termini più semplici, te l’ho già detto” sussurrò, ma venne salvata per tempo dalla reprise di Raven - che aveva tempi di respiro assurdamente brevi - dai colpi della campanella della cucina. “Il pranzo è pronto!” annunciò l’assolutamente felice, biondo adolescente quasi saltellando sul posto. Mezzo secondo e lo vide correre verso il prelibato obbiettivo, sparendo dalla sua vista al primo angolo veso le sale ad ovest della grande costruzione. Vivienne sospirò quasi sollevata; socchiuse gli occhi e aspirò - ma la sigaretta si era già spenta. “Accidenti!” le scappò, ma fortunatamente la sala era già vuota. Presubilimente tutti avevano due gambe ed una velocità normale nel farle andare, quindi Bly ci avrebbe messo un po’ a scendere. Tempo di accendere e defilarsi nel refettorio, prima che Hubert si sollevasse da dovunque si fosse messo a dormire (rigorosamente per terra) e iniziasse la sua notevole mole tra le porte, o che un Grayson molto assonnato facesse ritorno dagli antri bui in costruzione della sua dimora per stare un po’ in compagnia maschile. Litigò di nuovo con l’accendino, guardandosi attorno per decidere dove lasciarlo. L’algida figura - in realtà dotata di minor freddezza di quanto volesse dare a vedere - cercò con gli occhi verdi una superficie piana su cui lasciarlo in vista per il Dottore, e trovò che il pianoforte fosse un ottimo, visibilissimo ripiano. Si lasciò sfuggire un sospiro quando, avvicinandosi, vide anche i suoi Tarocchi ben riposti, lasciati lì da un po’ di tempo a prendere polvere. “Mi spiace, vecchi amici.” Chiuse gli occhi, intravedendo la magia che li permeava prendere vita mentre allungava una mano verso di loro. La ritrasse con una morsa nel cuore: i San Giorgio non vedevano bene questa sua pratica da strega illetterata, ma era stato proprio suo zio ad insegnargliela per aiutarla ad incanalare meglio le energie magiche quando ancora non aveva un mentore. Poi Jean Jaque a sua volta l’aveva considerata un ottimo metodo di focus. Chi poteva sapere cos’avrebbe riservato l’America ai suoi compagni, inoltre? In un impeto li prese e li nascose sul fondo delle tasche, dove non poteva vederli nessuno. Tirò l’ennesimo “Accidenti” accorgendosi che la sigaretta si era spenta di nuovo. La riaccese e posò lo zippo in piedi sul pianoforte, dov’era sicura che Bly l’avrebbe visto, prima di dirigersi verso le cucine con la vaga soddisfazione di aver vinto per una volta, girando e rigirando le carte tra le dita.

[genshingarbage]

Hiii, Good Morning/Good afternoon/Good evening Mod Kaeya,Mod Diluc^^, It's my first time requesting, Can I request? Angst with any Genshin Impact characters?,Soo The genshin characters are much more spending time with Lumine? Then the reader asks why they aren't spending much time with them and the genshin characters snaps and said the readers are weak ( reader is already insecured because they can't fight) and they have work to do then the reader leaves to fight hilichurl camps and unfortunately there's 2 Mitachurls ,luckly the genshin characters were on time to save the reader? Then they apologized to them? (It's Gn reader^^) sorry if it's alot and sorry if my grammar is wrong you both can disregard this ask stay safe ^^

Good afternoon dear Traveler!! Well done for making your first request! And such a lengthy one too oh my~ Your grammar is fine don’t even worry about it. Sorry for the long wait, Mod Diluc and I have been busy on the Kuzuha banner haha but I hope you enjoy this tear jerking tale (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧- Mod Kaeya

Recommending this song for this oneshot!

Go checkout Anna_drw01 for more art like this!! Here’s her artstation!

The distant scientist, renowned for being hard to get close to was someone you used to consider one of you closest friends. The two of you spent day and night together, hellbent of cracking open every single challenge you possibly could together. Many considered you two to be able to solve any mystery put in front of you together.

The keyword was together.

There was a mystery you yourself couldn’t solve; Why was Albedo’s time with you slowly becoming a rarity?

You’d been wondering why he’d been spending so much less time in the lab he’d meticulously built over years of his life or on site where his precious research was being buried little by little by crystalline flakes, tending to his experiments and recording time sensitive data that would be valuable for months to come for the research team. Albedo had been gone so long both you and Sucrose had designed a plan in order to cover the work he’s left unattended whilst managing your own on top of the store. It was beginning to get concerning. If the leader of the investigation squad was absent constantly then what did that mean for the rest of you? Surely he was only gone for the sake of something important he’d found, something he placed above everything else he was researching. That’s what you lent yourself into believing.

That is, until you saw him with her.

You couldn’t blame him honestly, Lumine was gorgeous. Her golden hair and fiery eyes are what a lot of men probably look for in a partner, even more so was the mystery behind her origins and the raw power she held in her fingertips at any given moment.

You didn’t have to have a vision to be able to tell that.

Maybe that was another thing he sought in her.

A traveling partner that could wield the powers of the elements, a traveling partner that could hold their own against the world. Maybe that wasn’t all he was looking for but also a romantic partner.

He finally came back to the investigation camp briefly one night, it was during a particularly rough blizzard ravaging across Dragonspine and the areas surrounding it a little like a turbulent child tossing snowflakes across already painted, buried monochrome peaks. He trudged into the camp with her rambunctious adventuring party, shouted something over the whipping wind about how they should get warm inside one of the communal tents dotted around the sparse camp halfway up the summit you inhabited and then ducked into the burgundy tent you were working away in with nothing but the clinking of vials harmonizing with the bubbling of flames. It was nothing but candle light right then in the morbid lonely night, only the sounds of the howling gales outside of the ones in your lab. If you’d felt like you were being watched during the night before now, Albedo’s piercing analytical gaze did nothing but soothe the loneliness you’d held inside yourself all night.

“I need a strong multi use Geoculus locator, if we have any.” The blonde said

He must’ve seen your shoulders perk up because he waited patiently as you searched through the shelves upon shelves of prototypes you’ve developed. After somehow finding one, you patted over to him. He seemed pleased with your work, if a bit distant as usual. He was in a good mood so you guessed would be the best time if any to ask. “Sir… with all due respect why have you been away so long?”

Albedo’s pale face was blank as usual though he blinked as if surprised you spoke, “Lumine needed someone with a sufficient Geo vision, I happened to be the one she knew the best to get the job done.”

“So you’ll be returning?”

“I never said that.”

You tried not to take it harshly, this was just how he spoke after all. “…could I come along then?” It was a long shot yes but you still missed his company, if it meant having to deal with him getting buddy buddy with that Outrider then you would suffer. 

It was quiet for a moment between you two as you stared him down and he observed the locator thoroughly. After he was pleased enough with the golden glowing device it was packed away into his back pocket without so much as a second thought, the man was obviously stalling while he thought carefully over the question but the result wouldn’t be to your liking evidently. You were about to make  a point you hoped would be convincing before he spoke, his voice sharp and words cold like the very ice being tossed around the blackened sky.

“No, you’re not a skilled enough fighter so you’d only slow us down more than we can handle to be right now. You’d be useless to us.” He put a hand to his chin for a moment in thought, “If you’d had been able to development a synthetic elemental burst like Sucrose’s swirl mark II…I would have considered but you can’t even do that.”

Watching him leave with them the morning after was torturous, they rushed off into the snowy landscape with barely a goodbye and never a second glance from Albedo beyond that. It stung.

Maybe that’s why when hilichurl camps, specifically ones becoming a nuisance to caravans as well as supply lines along Dragonspine almost avidly to the near point where there would be commissions called in, were brought up in conversation you elected to take a weapon and simply clear them out yourself. You could barely fight one off but usually they were smaller towards the base of the mountain so you figured it would be alright. You would just patch yourself up if you got a bit injured. Surely the pain of the injures would busy your silly little heart long enough to forget about Albedo and his cruel words to you, surely you would barricade your feelings of pining behind walls of broken bones and struggling through the snow. Maybe that was the remedy, the answer you needed to your mystery. Your pleas would probably be hidden by the snowstorms anyways.

Mitachurls unfortunately inhabited bigger camps. Thankfully, Frost Lawlichurls tended to live alone. The former happened to find it’s way to you, charging with the might of a bull on ozmanthys wine. As you were bowled over you heard an abrupt shout, maybe saw a brief flash of familiar golden light as the battle grounds around you erupted further into chaos but it didn’t matter that pale arms were abruptly gripping you to a panicked sword user. Your vision was to blurry, the shouts of attacks and spells too muffled and faint, your body felt too limp to comprehend even the though of moving. You could barely breathe.

Someone was muttering, crouched around you and holding you close, muttering something over and over again. Something important. The feeling of their lips pressed against your forehead, his quiet gut heaving sobs as he rocked you back and forth. Albedo’s pleas for you to just hang on a moment longer—

Where were you again?

There was sunlight and it was warm, a pleasant warmth that almost lulled you back to the sleep you’d fallen into. The only thing that kept you awake was that this was indeed not your bed.

Where were you?

Sitting up hurt, your whole body ached and you were certain something must have been rearranged or was missing because the pain shot through you like an arrow. Your sharp exhale alerted the two others in the room, one who immediately sprinted to get a nurse in an emerald and navy flurry of skirts and capes.

You were dizzy, only steadied by a gentle hand on your limp shoulder. Ah, when did you turn to face him?

The blonde man infront of you asked if you remembered what happened, his voice was soft but didn’t hold any emotion. The smoky circles around his beautiful striking cerulean eyes did nothing but worry you slightly as they implied a long period of time without sleep. You’d imagine him to be the sciency type who didn’t really know what to think of other people so he stayed nose deep in books to pass the time, though there was a deep sadness in the way he held himself you couldn’t understand.

“I don’t…who are you?” You thought you saw him flinch but figured it was a trick of the light.

“No one important, nevermind me.” The man sat up with an unreadable expression even for how blank it had been for this whole brief conversation after you had awoken, getting up from his chair to begin walking to the door when he stopped. “I’m sorry.”

“…for what?” You didn’t understand.

“Nothing that would natter now, please. Rest.”

You didn’t remember.

[everygildedstar]

Bible Study (Optional Male Bias)

Summary: He wants to know what could be better than God’s love, and you are happy to enlighten him

Pairing: Optional Bias x Reader

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: smut, corruption kink, religious corruption, blasphemy, hand jobs, blow jobs, riding, fem dom, male sub, loss of virginity, sex in a church, semi-public sex, quoting scripture during sex

A/N: It’s been a while since i wrote a smut so i’m rusty, so please be nice. Inspired by a discussion with @bigkpopstan and anon about religious corruption and Heeseung. Heeseung was in mind when I wrote this but it’s technically optional bias so have fun. ;)

“Meet me in the confession booth when everyone leaves for the barbeque,” you had messaged him. 

There had been a certain tension between the two of you for a while. He knew you weren’t the innocent “Church Girl” you pretended to be, and you knew he was curious. Curious about what could be so great as to reject what you were taught at church. What could possibly be better than God’s love? 

He had asked you as much one day, while you were waiting for your parents to stop socializing so you could go home.

“Because I like what I can understand,” you answered. “I like what makes me feel alive. I like what I can be certain of. And I am certain that there are a great number of things that are more pleasurable to me than church, and worshipping our so-called God while receiving nothing in return.”

“Like what?” he pushed.

“Maybe I could show you sometime,” you had said before walking out with your family.

He hadn’t brought it up to you again for a long time, but you could tell he thought about it. You could see it in his face every time you caught him looking at you, and every time he would look away blushing, as if he had been caught doing something sinful.

Finally he couldn’t take it anymore. He asked you to show him. And that’s how, today, you ended up pulling him into the confession booth in the empty church.

You shut and locked the door behind you, and then there was silence. The tension was so thick, just the sound of your breaths to fill the space, only a small amount of light leaking into the tiny room.

“Are you sure about this?” you asked. “There is no going back. You will only be pretending to be the good church boy. You will be like me,” You reach out and hold his face in one hand and the nape of his neck with the other, leaning in to whisper in his ear, “a sinner.”

You feel him nod. “Use your words.”

“Yes. I’m sure.”

“And you are not scared?” you ask further.

“No. If it is truly a sin, and should I wish to repent, God is merciful. He will take me back,” he says. 

You let out a breathy laugh. “And if you don’t wish to repent?”

He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you closer. “Then I suppose hell can’t be that bad if you’ll be there, my own beautiful temptress.”

You laughed again. “So much for the good little church boy.” 

You leaned in and kissed him. It started out slow and sweet, and you tried to pour every ounce of passion and honey as you can into every movement. He seemed to follow your lead leaning into you so much you were leaning back with him. You bit his lip, and then took his gasp to press your tongue into his mouth. He moans a little, surprised at the intrusion and starts sucking on it. 

You slowly move him back until his back hits the wall of the booth, pressing yourself close to his body. You tug his hair while your other hand starts to roam, slowly feeling its way past each dip in his defined chest and abdomen. You hook a finger in his belt loop and use it to pull his hips even further against you, forcing him to break the kiss and let out a moan. You move to kiss his neck, or at least the little bit you could reach with his unbuttoned collar. He moans again, and then again even louder when your hips forward. “What is your favorite scripture?” you ask. “Recite it for me, and don’t stop or I’ll stop.”

“What-” he asks as you unbutton his pants while you attack his neck with your mouth again. He gasps when you pull down his zipper, and then you reach your fingers into the waistband of his boxer briefs, eventually grasping his cock with only the tips of your fingers. He lets out a needy groan, rolling his hips into your touch, but you don’t move any further.

“Recite it, or I’m not going to do anything.”

He takes a second to gather his thoughts enough. “The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not wa-want.” He stutters when you pull his waistband down and bring his cock out, hissing at the cold air. You give it one stroke, and then stop, waiting for him to continue.

“He maketh me to lie d-down in green pastures-” You start stroking him slowly, rubbing your thumb over his slit once to gather his pre-come. You continue kissing his neck until you find a sweet spot that makes him whimper.

“-he leadeth me be-beside the still waters.” You move faster, pumping lightly with each stroke, while you pull his hair with the hand still resting there. 

“He restoreth my s-soul-” His grip on you tightens, hands grabbing fistfulls of the material of your church dress. “-he leadeth me in the p-paths of righteousness for his -ngh- name's sake.”

“Yea, though I wa-alk through the valley of the sha-hadow of death, I will f-fear no evil-” you move your kisses to the other side of his neck, and he throws his head back against the wood of the booth.

“-for thou art with m-me; thy rod and thy s-staff they co-co-comfort me- ” You then get on your knees in front of him, licking the tip of his cock, hand still stroking his length. “-Shit!”

You snicker, giving a long lick up the underside before looking up at him. “Don’t swear when you are reciting scripture, sinner.” -he moans at the nickname- “Keep going.”

He whines again before he continues, voice considerably higher. 

“Th-thou preparest a ta-able before me in the pre-esence of mine enemies-” You take the head of his cock into your mouth, sucking lightly. He lets out a guttural groan.

“-thou anointest m-my head with o-oil-” your hand that isn’t preoccupied with stroking the part of his cock that is not deep in your mouth is making its way under to cup his balls. 

“-my cup ru-runneth over.” He muffles a whine with one hand while the other makes its way into your hair.

He pulls his hand away from his mouth to recite the next part. “Surely g-goodness and merc-cy shall follow me all the d-days of my life- ngh!” You are bobbing your mouth farther and farther each time, and he has to refrain from thrusting his cock deeper into your mouth. 

“-and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever. Fuck, I’m so close-” He finishes his scripture, and you take him as far as you can and swallow, the squeezing of your throat around his cock almost sending him over the edge. You lift your mouth off of him with a pop, and he whines like a hurt puppy. “No- Please- Why?”

You stand back up and turn him, making sit on the seat to your left, before you push your skirt up around your hips and straddle him. “You didn’t think I was gonna let you have all the fun, did you?”

You grip his cock again, rubbing the tip over the wet spot on your panties. Both of you let out a moan together, pressing your foreheads together. His hands fly to your hips, gripping them tightly.

“Are you okay with this?” You ask again before you continue. 

He nods, the thin ray of light peeking into the booth in a perfect spot to show the desire in his eyes. “Yes, please. Please let me feel you. I’m not turning back.” He kisses you again, short but passionately. “Ruin me.”

You whine at his words, then you pull your soaked panties to the side and line his cock up with your entrance before you sink down on him, ever so slowly. Deep, long moans come from both of you. You kiss him again when he is fully sheathed inside you.

“Would you like for me to recite my favorite scripture for you?” you ask him, foreheads together while you adjust to his large size. “It was from a woman to her lover, and I feel like it fits the situation nicely.”

He nods, interested. “Enlighten me.”

“My beloved is white and ruddy, the chiefest among ten thousand.” You start to move agonizingly slowly up and down his length. He buries his face in your neck to muffle his noises and grips your hips even harder, and you were sure you would have bruises in the shape of his hands the next day. 

“His head is as the most fine gold; his locks are bushy, and black as a raven.” You tangle your hands into his own hair and he attaches his lips to the side of your neck like you had done to him.

“His eyes are as the eyes of doves by the rivers of waters, washed with milk, and fitly set.” You start to move faster, rolling your hips with each thrust. 

“His cheeks are as a bed of spices, as sweet flowers; his lips like lilies, dropping sweet-smelling myrrh.” You feel his hips stutter as he struggles to keep from thrusting up into you. 

“His hands are as gold rings set with the beryl-” He loses the fight, and starts jerking his hips up as you sink down, causing him to go way deeper, hitting your sweet spot and making you moan. “-his belly is as bright ivory overlaid with sapphires.”

“His legs are as pillars of marble set upon sockets of fine gold; his countenance is as Lebanon, excellent as the cedars.” You take one of his hands from your hips and press it between you against your clit, ripping a whine out of you.

“His mouth is most sweet-“ you move impossibly faster, even with your thighs growing tired. Your combined sounds and heavy breaths resonate within the confined box. 

“I’m close- is it ok if I…” He asked. You nod pulling him close, lips hovering only a hair away from his. 

“-yea, he is altogether lovely.” You kiss him deeply as you reach your high, hands harshly pulling his hair and gripping his shoulder. The squeezing from your release sent him over the edge, and he pulled your hips flush to his, coating your insides. 

As you come down from your orgasms, you finish the scripture. “This is my beloved, and this is my friend, O daughters of Jerusalem.” 

The two of you sit in silence for a minute, catching your breaths.

“Holy shit-” he says, and you let out a breathy laugh as you pull off of him, both of you wincing at the sensitivity. “I see why you do this now.”

“Are you gonna regret this and never talk to me again?” You ask, standing up and fixing yourself up. 

“Hell no.” He puts himself away and zips and buttons his pants. You feel his hands rest on your hips, and you wrap your arms around his neck, leaning in for another kiss.

“What do we tell our parents if they ask where we’ve been?” 

“Tell them we were doing private bible study and shared our favorite verses. And maybe ask if we can see each other more often for “bible study” sessions,” you added before stealing another kiss. 

“Sounds good to me,” he said. “That’s the only kind of bible study I’ll need from now on. If god is real and merciful, he can forgive me when the day comes. I have the only god I want to believe in right here in my arms.”

[uinmyheart]

  [♡] “let’s have breakfast together”

pairing: jeon jungkook x reader

genre: angst, established relationship

warnings: i don’t think they’re needed

word count: 1.5k

.

thinking about when was the last time he had the opportunity to truly look at you makes him realise about how the time keeps going by unapologetically.

it's been so long, and the only difference compared to the last time is the lack of infatuation towards you, the lack of the influence of the honeymoon phase. he remembers loving looking at you while you got pretty, prettier than you already were. there was a time where even the sweet perfume you always wear made him feel jittery and warm inside once you were near him. even if he tried to really think about it, he doesn't remember when the indifference started, when the both of you started to do your own thing and stopped caring about each other. he now looks at you sitting in your vanity and feels intimidated, feels dread when thinking of speaking to you, your coldness and how distanced you'd gotten through the years not helping him at all.

the peachy blush highlighted the apple of your cheeks and made your face look warmer, even though you'd grown to be one of the coldest and most serious people he'd ever met, he remembers perfectly and knows the kind of warmth that blooms in your chest every time you see simple things that make you happy. there was a time that cold facade always remained outside of your apartment and personal lives, until it didn't. maybe that's one of the reasons he'd gotten so far away from you.

in one of the deepest compartments of his brain he saves the memory of meeting you in college and enjoying the you that you were, the way you'd been and how you weren't as ruthless as you were today in your home and in your workspace. how your smiles weren't a rare occasion but an every day blessing. today you both are barely able to sleep in the same bed together and it's just for the sake of the proof of what was the love you both had for each other, probably in the kitchen waiting for the both of you to come out.

as much as he'd grown used to the bitter feelings towards you brewing on the surface every day, he will never try and deny how perfect and beautiful you were, how in some ways you'd aged like the most delicate and perfect wine, how your taste in fashion had grown to be so chic and sophisticated, the pieces of black fabric always looking marvellous on your skin and how you'd gone from a natural lip gloss to the darker more matte lipstick you'd grown to love, accentuating your pretty and delicate face. and his favourite; how your perfect curves adapted to your nicest black pencil skirts, always hugging your waist perfectly, the jeans that you would always wear with everything in college being long forgotten. he’d grown immune to your charms, just for the sake of not feeling the pain that comes with not being able to touch you anymore.

your cold gaze towards him when you faintly notice his figure sitting on the bed behind you reminds him of a certain love that barely manages to exist, but this time around he was willing to try to set the flame alight again. he was willing to fix whatever needed to be fixed, he wanted to give back the family that was unfairly taken away from your daughter, willing to try to go back to the days where your love was a mere example that miracles of finding the right companion can happen.. and he wanted his little Hanee to see the both of his parents happy and able to stay for more than 10 minutes in the same room. he would never deny a chance of pure happiness to his dearest and most perfect creation.

that's why he mutters your name, through his croaky voice and his eyes almost closed from how tired he was and how little sleep he had gotten because of the words, pleads from his daughter last night over a shared dinner without you. little communication leads to unknown responses and different reactions, that's why you're shocked to hear his voice, and annoyed instantly because it feels like he's looking for another fight, it feels like your name doesn't belong on his tongue and he's about to scold you, and a slight angry warmth spreads through your chest.

and when you turn around to truly look at him, he knows your mind is racing at ten miles per hour and you’re probably putting your barriers up, how you’re probably ready to spit some venom at him just like the both of you got used to doing almost every day.

"what?" you ask in return, and you knit your eyebrows in the way he'd grown to absolutely hate the most. he wants to groan and maybe demand for you to drop the bitter and nasty attitude towards him because he was putting everything aside and willing to bet on the both of you again, to bet on a better future. and he wanted you beside him on the same page too. so that's why he doesn't comment on the way you’re impatiently waiting, like the seconds of your time were a privilege you were not willing to give him.

"let's have breakfast together."

you turn around once again and he has the perfect view of your freshly just made sharp curls, your silky hair shining even through the blinding lights of the vanity sitting pretty on one side of the dark room. if it were another you and another him, he would've already mentioned how pretty you look today, he'd maybe be beside you leaving a trail of kisses from your neck to your collarbones, but today the both of you were already far away and not willing to get closer, the distance between the bed and the vanity barely being enough.

you get up from your spot and the sound of your high heels are sharp and ruthless, surrounding the whole room.

"i don't have breakfast. we don't at all"

and he's aware of that. life had gotten in the way and both of your schedules were so busy and what once started as an essential and necessary ritual between the both of you, ended up being a burden. a burden you weren't willing to go through first thing in the morning, instead choosing to eat something wherever you were and depending on what the both of you were doing.

he hates having breakfast. but he risks asking anyway and it's a peace offering you simply weren't aware nor couldn't see when he mentioned it.

you pick up the expensive bag sitting pretty in one of the stray chairs around the room and get ready to leave anyways, your rejection and the hurried sounds of your jewelry being jolted around with your sharp moves feeling like a slap in his face.

you try to leave, like every morning without looking back nor saying anything, yet his reflexes are quicker than yours and his hand ends up around your forearm, stopping you from going farther.

you almost jump in the spot from the shock of feeling his touch around one of your limbs after so long, a touch you’d grown to miss very deep in your heart, and that’s why you face him with widened eyes and what was the start of a labored breath. he's tired to even pick up a fight about whatever was happening between the both of you, but he’ll still try.

"have a great day at work, yeah?" this time around his determined gaze trying to meet your eyes intimidates you, so you try to avoid it in any way possible, and you stutter for a second he was barely able to catch.

was kindness something so lost and distant between the both of you?

he lets go the second you try to free yourself from him, not giving up a fight. he looks at you fix your attire once again like he'd pinned you to the ground even if you were fine, giving you the time to recompose yourself, and he gets reminded once again of the times where quickies before work were a common thing and you'd always leave fixing your clothes with a smile in your face. how many things had he taken for granted before losing that special connection with you?

"I have a car waiting for me." you mutter and keep going towards the door of your bedroom.

he doesn't say anything back, instead drowning on the noise of the door opening and closing shortly after.

he will keep trying, his only motivation being knowing well that you still have feelings for him, just as he does for you. hatred might blind the both of you temporarily, but there's a light at the end of the tunnel he's willing to reach just for the sake of saving his family, and being able to get his first and only love back.

A/N: this is my first time writing something relatively long and i’m really nervous about posting it, so pls let me know abt your opinions hehe <3 i’m always grateful for the kind support i always get on my tiny timestamps.. so this is a huge step for me. thank you if you’re reading! <3

[slytherinwh0re]

Mission accomplished

Draco Malfoy x Female Reader

Warnings: SMUT (18+ minors dni), possessiveness, alcohol, and swearing

Summary: Where you make Draco jealous at a slytherin party.

Masterlist

A/N: no cap this may be my favorite smut that I’ve ever written lol

If there’s one thing slytherin’s are best at, it’s throwing a party. Anytime there was even a tiny reason for celebration the house of Salazar was always ready to show it’s inhabitants a good time.

End of term parties were always the craziest, every one in attendance knew they’d be miserable the following morning but it’s a risk they’re willing to take for the sake of a great night. After all, no one’s out drinking a slytherin. With the flashing lights, thumping music, dancing bodies, and endless booze, the green common room was transformed into a scene straight from a movie.

That’s how you found yourself on the makeshift dance floor with Pansy, buzzed off a few cups of fire whiskey, and dressed to impress a certain blonde who had been watching you from across the room. You knew what you were doing, the sultry swing of your hips were intended for him to see but when you tried beckoning him over to dance with you he simply shook his head.

Well that just wasn’t gonna work for you so instead of continuing to dance with Pansy you grabbed the closest guy to you, knowing exactly what it would do to him.

“He’s gonna be furious.” You had your back pressed to Theo’s chest, swinging your hips the same way you were before, your head thrown back onto his chest and your hands around his neck.

“That’s the point.” You grab his hands and set them on your hips, knowing he’s too respectful to touch you without permission. Theo’s a good friend, he knew what was going on, he’d help you out even if it was just to get under Draco’s skin for your own pleasure.

“I better not get punched for this (y/n).” He whispers in your ear, making you laugh as you continue to dance together to the loud music. Your bodies flush against each other’s as you let the deep bass pulse through you.

When you felt the familiar hand grab your wrist and yank you away from your dance partner you knew you were in for it. Draco may as well have had steam blowing out his ears from how angry he looked, he made sure to send Theo one of his infamous glares before dragging you away from the party to his dorm. You look over your shoulder and wink at your friend, he laughs, knowing you’ve just gotten exactly what you wanted.

“Strip.” You’d barely closed the door behind you when he’d demanded this but you knew better than to disobey him right now. Draco watched from where he was seated on the edge of the bed as you slowly discarded your clothes.

You kicked off your shoes, tugged the tight cropped top over your head, and unclasped the lacy bra you’d worn. When you got to the small leather skirt you turned so your back was facing him, while slightly bent over, you slowly pull it down your legs, and swing your hips a little just to drive him crazy. That left you in only your panties and black fishnets.

“Leave those and get on the bed.” Draco was right behind you, one hand splayed across your stomach, the other around your throat. You nod your head and he lets you go, his eyes dark with lust as you climb onto the center of his bed. With a flick of his wand your wrists are bound over your head to the frame of his bed. “You’ve been so bad (y/n), what were you thinking letting Theo touch you like that when you’re clearly mine?”

“I just wanted to dance and you wouldn’t so I had to find someone else.” You watch as the handsome blonde removes his clothes and climbs on the bed, kneeling in between your legs in only his boxers while you’re completely at his mercy.

“After tonight you’re not gonna forget who you fucking belong to ever again.” Mission accomplished. His hand lowers until it’s at your center, lightly stroking you before tearing a hole in the fishnets you’d worn under your skirt. Small whimpers leave your lips as he works his fingers over your soaked panties.

“Draco, please... I need you.” You needed him to touch you, the smirk on his face says it all, he wanted you to beg. Finally he pushes your panties to the side, his thumb finds your swollen clit, he lowers his head in between your legs, and licks straight up your center.

His tongue skillfully swirls around your pussy, licking and sucking in perfect intervals, just the way he knows you like it. Your bound hands are clenched over your head, your nails leaving crescents on your palms from the pleasure you’re receiving. The moans that leave your mouth are sinful but when he sucks on your clit and pushes a finger through your entrance the screams you were holding in come tumbling out all at once.

“You’re mine (y/n), only mine. Only I can touch you like this, make you scream like this.” Your eyes roll into back of your head from his words, moaning in agreement as he pushes in a second finger, you’re so close you start shaking.

A gasp leaves your mouth at the sudden loss of contact, Draco’s off the bed, pulling down his boxers, and you whimper from being left so close to edge. He climbs back on top of you, his cock dripping with precum as he strokes himself.

“Beg. Beg me to fuck you, that’s what you want right love—me to fuck you?” He smirks at how desperate you must look, your hips bucking up towards him, trying to get a bit of friction as you pull on the restraints around your wrists. “Tell me how bad you want me.”

“Plea-” he rubs his cock on your sensitive clit, “please, Draco. I want you so bad, I want to feel your cock so bad.” The slytherin grabs one of your legs and brings it over his shoulder before slamming into you. His eyes trained on your tits that bounce with every sharp thrust of his hips, breathy moans leaving his mouth when you scream his name.

One hand is wrapped around your throat and you need to touch him, you need to feel his skin under your fingertips. “Please let me touch you, I need to touch you.” You beg him, your head thrown back onto the silky pillow, staring back at him with hooded eyes.

When Draco unties your wrists you immediately find his hair, both of you moaning at the feeling of your hands on him. His cock hitting the spongy spot deep inside that had you clenching around him.

He pulls out and flips you both over so you’re on top. His hands running over your legs covered in the fishnets as you sink back down on him. “Ride me until you cum.” He demands as you quickly start bouncing on top of him.

You lowers your body so your breasts are against his chest and he pulls you in for a needy kiss, his hand wrapped around your hair, and his tongue tangled with yours. “Mine. You’re mine.”

“I’m all yours Draco, don’t want anyone else.” You assure him, still moving against him as he meets your hips halfway. His thumb finds your bundle of nerves and traces small circles onto it making you scream, your orgasm washes over your body in powerful waves as he helps you continue bouncing on him until he’s releasing inside of you.

You lay next to him, your head on his chest, and his fingers playing with your hair when he grabs your wrists; frowning at how red they look.

“Do they hurt?” He examines them for a minute before looking at you to see if you’re in pain.

“Not really, just a bit sore.” His frown deepens before he grabs his wand, healing them quickly and making sure to kiss both of them.

“I might have to kill Theo.” You laugh at the over dramatic boy.

“Theo was simply helping me accomplish my goals for tonight.” Draco rolls his eyes at that.

“Next time just ask me to fuck you.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

*

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[1kook]

skirt chasers - drabble iii

this a skirt chasers drabble in case u couldn't tell uhhh here’s i and ii lol

summary; “I think the alcohol broke my amygdala. Your epidermis looks pretty today— did you use that toner I told you about?” warnings; alcohol mention, tit sucking, unprotected sex, use of the pull out method, uhh making out??? ratings; mature (18+) misc; educational abolitionist!jungkook, drunk jk, mentions of throwing up lol, jk is an anatomy frEAK, more skirts, more jk has questionable kinks wc; like barely 2k

notes; i wrote this in like 40 mins bc i couldn't stop thinking about STIMBO jk from skirt chasers and how cool he is enjoy xxxx also i barely rmr shit from anatomy bc it was the worst course of my life so pls bear with me

His first mistake is getting drinks with the boys. You like to think you know your boyfriend pretty well, know what he’s good at, where he excels, where he thrives, and well. Drinking doesn’t rank too high on the list.

Jimin calls a little past midnight. “Kook’s on the table,” he slurs into the phone, too loud and too sloppy for a Wednesday night phonecall.

“Ha?” you mumble back, rubbing your eyes until you see stars. The room is dark, practically spinning from how out of it you are. Chaeyoung is dead asleep in her room, so even whispering feels like a crime. “Where are you guys?”

Some bar on the south side of town, that strip where all the newly turned twenty-one year olds go to get wasted. Jungkook’s supposed to be studying for some big exam he has on Friday— at least, that’s what he told you —so it takes a few minutes of convincing on Jimin’s part until you’re shrugging your coat on, blindly navigating through your apartment for your keys and wallet. You briefly consider taking an Uber, but ultimately decide you’d rather get stabbed to death on a public bus so at least your family can sue the city afterwards.

Jungkook is indeed on the table, except the table has long since tipped over. So now he’s just sprawled across some dirty bar floor, puppy-soft head of curls spilling over his forehead. He’s so cute, so adorable. You want to kill him. “Up,” you command, channeling the strength of twelve football players to haul your beefy boyfriend off the ground.

“Baby,” he beams, looking at you but not actually looking at you. “I think the alcohol broke my amygdala. Your epidermis looks pretty today— did you use that toner I told you about?”

You don’t even know what that means, can’t even question him, because then Jin is angrily yelling at you to cover his tab. You pay with a stiff middle finger, flail the three dollars in your wallet at him, before sweeping away your poor damsel in distress. “You’re supposed to be studying,” you huff, can’t even be mad when he stops to throw up in a bush outside the bar. You’re so embarrassed, pretend you don’t know him as you pull up the bus times on your phone.

He’s huffy by the time you get on the bus, sniffling against your neck as he cries about his common hepatic portal vein thing— you don’t fucking know.

Chaeyoung isn’t too impressed with you when you bring him home, dump him on the couch while she steals your AirPods from your room. “Explain yourself,” you demand, and his head rolls back.

“I hate school,” he complains, slaps a hand down against his forehead. You’re certain he’s concussed himself this time. Then he’s bending over, head held between his hands. “Wanna cry.”

You sigh, kneeling in front of him. “You’re almost done,” you comfort him, hand on the back of his head. He’s so sweaty, and smells like all his friends colognes at the same time. “You’re smart, baby, you can do this.”

Your words have the opposite effect, because then he’s rocking forward childishly, nearly rams your skulls together and kills you. He’s reached the point of his insobriety where he’s too sad and huffy to think, sadly leaning against your shoulder as if that’ll somehow solve all his problems. You doubt it will, but there’s really nothing much you can when Jungkook reaches this point, so you settle on softly patting the back of his head until the fool is fucking snoring against you.

Chaeyoung blesses you with her divine retribution the next morning by using up the last of your body wash, and then you’re left to deal with a hungover Jungkook on a Thursday morning. You’re pretty sure he had a class that morning, but he wakes up too late for you to even try to convince him to still go, and then he’s moping on your couch in last night’s clothes. You’re getting ready for your internship, blouse half buttoned, pencil skirt wiggled up to your waist.

“Abolish exams,” he mutters, numbly staring at the ceiling as you wipe his face with a cleansing towelette. He doesn’t seem remotely interested in the shower or the pancakes you made, which lets you know this is a much more serious issue than just a drunken episode. “Aren’t they stupid?” You nod. “Sure, test me on every damn thing we’re learning right now as if science isn’t always changing and I’ll have to keep learning anyway.”

He looks over at you, under-eye bags absolutely horrendous. “Tests are stupid,” you agree, and it seems to be exactly what he wants to hear as he sinks into your arms, face buried in your chest. “Too stupid for smarty-pants Jeon Jungkook.”

Jungkook groans, flops over you on the couch all smelly and gross. “They test you for memorization and not comprehension,” he adds, finally wiggling out of his stinky clothes.

With Jungkook, you can never tell where things are going. One minute he’s cursing the education system and the next he’s kissing along your neck in his rambling fury. “As if I these materials will somehow become nonexistent once I’m working,” he huffs, hands on your thighs. Your breath hitches in your throat, fingers digging into his biceps as he mindlessly kisses down the valley between your breasts. “Shit’s so fucking stupid,” he spits, bunching your skirt around your waist.

“Jeon—“

“I’m just trying to be a fuckin’ pediatrician, for fuck’s sake,” he growls, hastily undoes the front buttons on your blouse. Your black bra comes into view, heart pounding in your chest as Jungkook makes quick work of reaching behind and undoing it, pushing it away, and cupping your breasts in his palms. He guides one of your legs around his waist, tucks it around him as he gets to work raining down kisses on your tits. “So pretty, doll,” he murmurs, pretty pink lips leaving smooches down your chest.

You bite down on your lip, watch through hazy eyes as those big doe eyes flick up at you, tongue swirling around your nipple. “N— Not tired anymore?” you pant, hands in his hair. It’s still dry and knotted from last night’s adventures, but you don’t mind. Not when Jungkook’s hard cock is flush against your thigh.

“Nah,” he confirms, rolling his hips forward against your core. Oh he was horny horny this morning. Or was he angry horny? You don’t care, either way you were winning. “I serenaded you last night, y’know?”

You snort, but it morphs into a whimper when he captures your rock hard nipple between his perfect teeth. “Not a serenade,” you whimper, fingernails running along his scalp, “if I’m not there.”

Jungkook leans back, lets you breathe for a second as he unbuckles the front of his pants, jeans pulled down around his thighs. And of course he’s hard as fuck by now; this was Jeon Jungkook you were dealing with. He could get it up and going in two seconds flat at the mere sight of your collarbones. “You were there,” he insists, capturing your hand in his all romantic like until you’re flustered and shaking him off. He levels you with a cheesy grin, presses your palm against his chest. “Here.”

You gag. “That’s disgusting.”

Jungkook laughs, all squeaky and airy because he’s never given a fuck about looking cool in front of you. His next words only prove your point. “Why? Don’t like being nestled against my left lung and esophagus, all sexy like?”

You roll your eyes, tug your panties aside to give him a full view of what his dorky anatomical talk has done to you. “Dick me down or go away,” you say, pointer finger nudging his chin up when he stares too long

He snaps his teeth at you, almost bites your finger, the fuckin’ weirdo. “Sassy today,” he teases, presses the tip of his cock against you. Both of you groan, watch as he glides himself up and down your folds, angry mushroom head pushing against your clit. “Always so wet for me,” he mumbles shakily, eyes zeroed in on your wet folds and how slick they feel against him. “Didn’t stretch you out again.”

“Yo— You’re mean about that anyway,” you pant, pulling him closer by those firm ass cheeks of his. “I can tell when you’re using me as a reference model.”

Jungkook gasps as if he’s genuinely scandalized by your claim, follows your wordless command and finally lines himself up with your quivering entrance. “I’m a hands-on learner,” he offers, his cheeky smile still on his face until he finally sinks into you and his features twist up all pretty. “Your pussy’s just so pretty, baby,” he grunts, hand on your hip.

Your face feels warm, from the pleasure that rolls over your body and the vulgarity of his words. “Shush now,” you say, try to sound strict and in command, but he’s got his other hand cupping your jaw, looking at you like you’re a goddess and not some dorky college student in their even dorkier internship uniform.

“Temptress,” he mumbles, pushes past your clenching lips until he’s flush against you, your walls spasming around his cock because he just feels so good. “Tried to sneak past me in that tiny skirt.” He draws back, lets his swollen head catch at the entrance before sliding back in, pace slow and sensual, too intimate for some random Thursday morning. “Little doll just needs to be fucked in the morning, doesn’t she?” A pitiful whimper catches in your throat, eyes rolling to the back of your head with every glide of his dick back inside of you.

“N- Not my fault you have naughty eyes,” you whimper, hand coming up to bite at your knuckles as Jungkook continues to fuck you so sweetly. “Fuck.”

Jungkook ducks over you, wavy hair tickling your forehead as his hot breath fans across you. Smells like the mouthwash you made him take and hints of last night’s alcohol. “Can’t help it,” he husks, capturing your lips in his. Sloppy and wet, tongue clashing with yours as he guides you along, hips slowing to rhythmic ruts that have you moaning after each roll.

A few drawn-out thrusts later and you’re coming, body so sensitive this early in the morning, and it certainly doesn’t help that Jungkook looks like that (sweaty and worn, dark eyes watching you writhe beneath him). Surprisingly, it takes him a few more rushed thrusts before he follows, barely managing to pull out in time before his sparkling cum is splattering over your tummy and the skirt bunched around it. “No,” you whine, melting into the couch. “Jeon, this is my only one,” you complain, rubbing a hand over your eyes as if that’ll somehow make your legs work again enough to push him off.

Jungkook says nothing as he tucks himself back into his boxers, chest heaving from exertion as he crashes back onto the couch. “Liar,” he responds after a moment, out of breath and half asleep again. He’s still technically hungover. Hand lazily drawing circles on your knee as you sit up, wiggling your skirt back down. He gives you this indecipherable look. “I hid the other one under your dresser.”

You smack his arm. “Why the hell would you—“

He tackles you back into the couch, presses the stain into your skirt. It must feel gross against his naked tummy, but Jungkook doesn’t seem to care. “Makes me too horny,” he announces, pout pressed against your neck. “I had a teacher fantasy the other day. Did I tell you?” You roll your eyes, resigning yourself to this new life squashed beneath your boyfriend. “You were my high school anatomy teacher and I failed, so you made me stay after school for supplemental lessons—“

“That’s an abuse of power,” you point out, back to carding your hands through his now sweaty and greasy hair. “And you would never fail an anatomy class, that’s literally your comfort area of study.”

“Listen,” he stresses, lifts his head until he’s peering at you with these humongous Bambi eyes. “You spanked me and—“

“Go get my skirt.”

Copyright © 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Hue and Cry XV

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), grief, death, some elements may be untagged.

This is dark!medieval!Bucky Barnes x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: Lord Barnes faces the consequences of his actions.

Note: Yesterday’s chapter was intense, right? Well, here you go.

Thanks to everyone and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

MASTERLIST

The solemn servants carried the board as the woman's broken figure rested atop it. None knew if she was still alive and none were brave enough to ask. They just did as they were told as the duke, Lord Barnes, walked behind, his artificial arm gone, snapped from the impact of his fall, and his expression stony but bruised. He was streaked in blood; his own, the horse's, hers, maybe all three.

His closest friend, Lord Rogers walked beside him, mostly unscathed from the undue violence of their competition. The king and his wife trailed not far after the party as the body many feared was a corpse was balanced on the wide plank.

They were directed to the duke's chambers but did not move the woman from the wood. Instead they placed it atop the bed as her shorn skirts fanned around her and her stained sleeves laid like wings over her arms. They jostled her as they let the board down but she did not groan or gripe. She likely could not, if she could do anything at all.

The duke paced and stopped now and then to stare at the woman as he awaited the physician. The king and queen sat grimly on the cushioned bench before the dwindling hearth and the other nobleman stood by the window.

"Where is the healer?" Barnes growled as he came to the foot of the bed, "they will kill her with their indifference."

"He is coming," Samuel assured, "it will not be time that kills her, likely,"

"Oh shut up," the duke snarled, "she will live. I know she will."

"Brother," the queen said softly, "she was trod into the dirt… you cannot think--"

"She must, she must," the duke babbled and gripped the bed post as his eyes clung to her lifeless form, "she cannot--"

The knock came and Lord Rogers retreated from the curtains to open the door. The physician entered with his assistant and a chest with leather straps. He approached the bed with a morbid gaze. He looked her over then blinked at the silent duke.

"I am told she was caught beneath a horse," he said.

"Yes, yes, she…" Barnes' voice drifted off as his lips stayed parted. He was senseless as he could not look away from her.

The healer sat carefully beside the board and softly touched her throat. He nodded as his fingers pressed down and he brought his other hand to feel more firmly. He gave a long sigh and carefully moved her head.

"She is breathing. Barely. Her neck isn't broke but…" he felt along her shoulders and arms, her sides, and stirred around her skirts, "other parts of her, likely inside too."

"Can't you help her?" Barnes croaked.

"I can try," he replied hopelessly, "even if by some miracle she survives, she won't be the same. Not fully."

"Do what you can," the duke bid, "and the rest of you can go."

"Bucky…" his sister stood, "you shouldn't--"

"I said go," he snapped, "go away."

He turned his back to them again and stretched his fingers. He was shaking. His mouth was dry and yet he felt bile in his throat. She was stupid, she'd done it upon her own foolishness, so why did he feel so rotten? 

🏰

She was a shell. Lord Barnes stared at the woman, cocooned in strips of linen atop his bed. It had taken so long for them to cut her out of her gown and bandage her. When he closed his eyes, he saw the damage done to her fragile body.

He didn't sleep, only fed the fire and watched her. He didn't pray, he didn't speak, he just sat there, ignoring his own pains. She could have killed him too, he reminded himself, he wished she had.

She hadn't awoken, hadn't even twitched, at times, he was certain she'd stopped breathing. But he would lean in and listen, too afraid to touch her, and he heard the deathly rasps. Then he sat again and watched and watched and watched. Nothing happened.

The physician returned with the day. She was the same as before. He checked her arm in its splint and went through his careful inspection of her. He gave the duke the same empty words. Nothing more could be done.

The days passed as such. The physician tried to feed her with assistance from his aide and they cleaned up after her humanly messes. They changed her bandages, a painstaking task, and shook their heads as they left.

Nearly a week went by and the knock at the door was heavier than that of the healer. Lord Barnes called for his guard to let in his visitor and the duke was on his feet at once. He curled his lip as the Baron entered with a tall thin man at his shoulder.

"My lord, I've not come to provoke you, though I do realise your distaste for me but I hope for the sake of this… woman you would set it aside," Lord Zemo spoke carefully. Barnes was surprised how the other man did not flinch as he came to stand close to him, his fist gripping wantingly at his side.

"Why else would you come but to pester me?" Barnes sneered.

"I have heard reports of the unfortunate woman who did collide with your horse. I have found her weighing often on my heart and despite what has transpired between us, she is innocent of all that," he glanced forlornly at the bed, "This is Werner. He is my personal physician. He has treated every type of ailment, even a similar injury suffered by a stable boy."

"I have a healer," Barnes insisted.

"I am aware but what is one more opinion on the lady's condition," Zemo argued, "you needn't bide me, only the healer. He is at your whim, not mine. Yes, Werner?"

"My lord," the taller man bowed to each nobleman in turn, "with your permission, I would review the lady's wounds."

Barnes inhaled deeply. He shook his head at Zemo and shoved him back. The other man stumbled and the physician watched in shock.

"I don't want your help," Barnes hissed, "how dare you come here. Be gone before you are in worse condition than her."

"Lord Barnes, can we not--"

"We can't," Barnes gritted his teeth, "now go. I am too tired for you."

Baron Zemo looked at him placidly and lifted a single brow. He turned to his physician and gestured him away. They turned and went back to the door. The foreign lord stopped before he passed into the corridor, "the offer stands despite all this. Just send for Werner and he will come."

Barnes stormed over and slammed the door behind the Baron. He hit it with his fist and swore loudly. He turned and leaned against the wood and dropped his head back. Why couldn't anyone just leave him alone?

🏰

The day after Zemo’s appearance, another unexpected knock sounded from the corridor. Lord Barnes barely heard it as he was half-asleep in the chair. It shook the door again and he woke with a start. He stood and stumbled over, too hoarse to call for his guard to do his job.

He opened it and reeled at the sight of the young Lord Parker. He scoffed and made to shut the door. Parker caught it and gave him a desperate look, brows drawn together and eyes sparkling.

“Please, I did come to see her but there is something I must also speak to you on,” the viscount urged, “please, hear me. For her.”

Barnes’ eyes tingled and his lashes flicked away the droplets. He shrugged and stepped back, retreating back to the chair as the boy entered. Parker closed the door gently and his lightly footsteps crept over the floorboards. The duke stared at the wall and wiped his sweaty hand on his breeches.

“So, what is it?” he asked.

The younger lord stood by the bed and stared down at the unconscious woman. He was pale, deathly so, and he spun away from her with a gasp of dismay.

“It is my fault,” he said, “she spoke to me before she ran in front of your horse. She said how I’d hurt her and she was right. And I only did it because I thought it would help her. That it could save her from you, even that it might protect my family as well.”

“She spoke to you?” Barnes asked as his hackles raised.

“Would you begrudge her that? Even now?” Parker faced him, “look at her! I claim my part in this horrid thing but you… you are just as guilty.”

“Is that why you came? To tell me I killed her?”

“Killed? She--”

“Not dead yet but she is dying. I know it. I’ve seen men die, it isn’t any different with women,” Barnes felt the tears well and wiped them away and sniffed, “and yes, I do know it is of my doing.”

Parker was silent and shifted on his feet, “I’m sorry.”

“Good bye, Lord Parker,” Barnes huffed.

The other man hesitated but slowly moved to the door. He glanced back before he left and as he did, the wind from the corridor blew out the only lit candle. Barnes sat in the flicker of the fireplace and leaned forward to hold his face. His chest tightened as the dread coiled up his spine like a snake.

He thought if he didn’t say it aloud, it couldn’t be. He thought he could save her still. He hoped…

He stood and marched to the door. He ripped it open and grabbed Lester by his cowl, “go! Zemo’s man, fetch him.”

🏰

Werner changed the woman’s bandages and stood to wrap up the used strips. It was the third day he’d been to the Duke’s room and the lady did appear more lively, even if she had yet to wake. Her breaths were deeper and there was a new tone to her complexion. The physician packed up his chest and tutted.

“I know my master is… a particular sort of man but you should have called me sooner,” Werner said, “your healer, he did not wrap her ribs well enough and he should know how to feed a patient in her condition properly.”

“Thank you,” Barnes said, “is she getting better?”

“Better than she was, certainly, but will she get any better? Well, my lord, where I am from, we do not dampen the truth with hope. This is likely as good as she will be ever again,” he held his chest under his arm as he faced the duke, “many who have faced a horse’s step have not fared so long.”

“And there is nothing you can do? Nothing else?” Barnes frowned.

“I can see to your own wounds. The ones you’ve not treated,” he offered, “you’re lucky the cut on your cheek has scabbed and not festered. You should allow me to examine the rest.”

“Suppose… suppose you are right,” Barnes relented, “the cuts and bruises are mostly healed but I have a pain,” he touched his shoulder, “I’m afraid I’ve made it worse in my anger.”

“If you would,” the physician replaced his chest on the bed, “you might remove your tunic and I will have a look.”

Barnes nodded and carefully stripped his tunic. He hadn’t replaced the arm forged in steel and wood. It was useless anyway. The healer moved around him and felt along his shoulder and told him to lift his arm. 

“It is still in place but likely sprained--”

Both men froze as the woman coughed. Barnes pulled away from the physician and raced to the bed. The taller man caught up to him and stopped him with a hand on his chest. He tapped his bare skin and held up his finger.

“Wait, don’t--” Werner moved to sit next to the woman as her body tensed and and her breath harried and stopped all at once, “there is trouble.”

He bent and listened to her chest then moved to open her mouth. He opened her lips and covered them with his own. Barnes had never seen such a practice as the man blew into her mouth and pumped her chest. He was careful but firm as he varied between puffing and pressing.

“Is there anything I can do?” Barnes asked.

Werner shook his head as his tending grew more frantic. He leaned over the girl again as he stopped and he touched her cheek daintily. He was quiet as his hand moved to her chest then his fingers crawled back up to her neck. He stiffened and sat up. He looked over at Barnes as the wrinkles around his eyes deepened.

“She is dead, my lord,” he said as he drew his chest into his lap and stood, “her heart seized. The pain, it was likely too much for her.”

“Dead?” Barnes echoed airily.

“My apologies, I did all I could--”

“Dead.” Barnes affirmed, “well, then I suppose you might send for a carpenter.”

“My lord?” The physician questioned.

“For the coffin,” the duke answered bluntly as he turned away, “I thank you for trying as hard as you did. I should’ve let her go sooner.”

[weelittleweasley]

defender (g.w.)

prompt as requested by @a-vintage-kat: in your eyes, there was no tolerance for people who were unkind for no reason. that was one of the many reasons george weasley adored you so much.

paring: george weasley x fem! hufflepuff reader

warnings: harassment (that the reader sets MF straight), mild language (like two words)

word count: 2.2k

“That’s not fair, Georgie,” you laughed as George plucked the book from your hands, holding it above his tall stature. You were trying to enjoy the cool fall weather in the courtyard, reading under your favorite tree before George had disrupted your peace. “Give it here, come on,” you stood up and held out your hand, requesting the leather coated book to be placed back in your hands.

Instead, George placed the book on his head and balanced it as he walked carefully as to not make it fall. He jumped on top of one of the courtyard benches, pretending as if it were a balance beam as he walked its length with the book still perched on his head. George chuckled as you called out his name in protest, him walking further and further away from you.

“Georgie, come on, give it back,” you stood and folded your arms, feigning to be cross with him whilst he giggled around the courtyard, tossing the book in the air now and catching it. 

He looked over at you and smiled at the disgruntled pout on your face. “Aw, is my angel upset because her doting boyfriend is giving her a good tease?” he made fun of you as you rolled your eyes, secretly holding back a smile. “You can’t do your work because your dashingly handsome beau is distracting you?” George cooed as he slowly approached you as you threw your head back with a groan in protest. “Give us a kiss,” he puckered his lips mockingly. “Then I’ll give you your book back. Just one little peck and it’s all yours.”

Giving him a hard time, you mad a mad dash in the opposite direction, running away from George. You hear him grumble under his breath with a cheeky laugh before hearing his footsteps not too far behind. You’re being chased now through the courtyard by George, giggling wildly as you run from him. But George’s legs are longer than yours, making him much more agile than you are.

Within mere seconds, you are scooped up into his arms as you squeal. “Gotcha,” he laughs before he drops to the grass, pulling you down with him. The two of you fall onto the lush grass, laugher, entangled in each other as you catch your breaths. George brushes your hair out of your face as you lay on top of him, propping yourself up on his chest. “Hello, gorgeous,” he smiles.

“Hi, Georgie,” you smile back. “My book please,” you reach for the book resting next to him.

But George grabs your hand before you can reach the book. “Ah, ah, where’s my kiss?” he raises his brows as you roll your eyes before smiling. “That’s my angel,” he speaks beneath his breath before grabbing your yellow tie and pulling you down to kiss his lips. You are smiling into the kiss as he tenderly cups your face, inhaling the crispy fall air. You pull away and look into his chocolate brown eyes and melt. “You’re a sight for sore eyes,” George huffs as you pull yourself off of him and get back onto your feet.

You brush the grass off of your skirt as George comes back to his feet. “A sight for sore eyes who is not going to finish her reading assignment on time, thanks to you, Mr. Weasley,” you drop your left eye into a wink as George chuckles, placing a kiss on the top of your head. “Walk me to class?”

George pulls your hand in his before placing a kiss to your knuckles. “My pleasure,” he tells you before grabbing your bag as you hold your two books in your other hand.

The two of you start down the corridors, making light chatter to each other as you lean into George’s side, smiling widely. There was a certain comfort that George brought you unlike any other. He felt like home, but also like a breath of fresh air. Regardless of the situation, George would drop anything if you needed him and that was reassuring to know that you had someone on your side no matter what. And you were fiercely loyal to him and his family. When it came to fights and drama, you liked to steer clear, not really engaging into animosity. But if it involved your friends or family, you would be the first person to defend them, coming in full force. 

It was how George fell in love with you. You stood up for his family when no one else would. Ron, in typical fashion, was getting picked on by the Slytherin quidditch team and in the blink of an eye, you were standing in front of Ron, physically shielding him as you held up your wand defensively at Adrian Pucey’s throat. Your face was red with anger as you threatened to hex him, Pucey immediately halting his taunting as he walked the other way. You had turned to Ron, asking him profusely if he was alright or needed anything. George saw how much you cared for other people, even if you didn’t owe them anything. George admired how you always wanted to do the right thing, even if it put you in harm’s way. 

Like now.

As you walked down the hall, you heard a familiar voice taunt someone. You stopped in your tracks and listened carefully, trying to recognize the voices speaking. “You alright?” George monitored your face as it contorted, trying to figure out what was happening. You held a finger to your lips, trying to signal to him to be quiet. But in typical George fashion, he could read the room very well. “What’s going on?”

“Shhhh, George,” you whispered as you let go of his hand, walking down the hall to see the scene before you.

Cornered in the hall was Hannah Abbot, a young Hufflepuff, clutching onto her book, knuckles white as Cormac McLaggen leaned up against the wall next to her. He spoke low as Hannah tried not to meet his gaze. “Come on, Abbot, I see the way you look at me during Potions. I think asking for a date isn’t unreasonable,” Cormac brushed back a piece of her hair as Hannah shifted uncomfortably. 

Your blood boiled at the scene as you exhaled through your nostrils like a bull about to crash into a matador. It was quite obvious that Hannah, as she should be, was not interested in Cormac’s prospect, but this didn’t stop him from repeatedly asking her for a date, touching her gently on her face as she cringed. “Hold my books, George,” you growled.

George smiled with delight and anticipation as he grabbed the books from your hand as you pulled your wand out of your robes. George was highly excited to watch you kick some ass. “Glady,” he beamed. “Go get him, tiger,” he pat your bum in encouragement. George followed behind you in case you needed back up, but you usually didn’t in these situations.

When you got mad, which wasn’t often, it was a sight to see. You were usually very sweet and kind to people, but only to those who deserved it. To those who didn't, you became a different person. 

“Oi!” you bellowed from down the hall, stomping toward Cormac and Hannah. Hannah’s face instantly relaxed when she saw you coming to her rescue, a relieved look washed over her face. Cormac on the other hand, spun around slowly and gave you a smirk that only made your blood boil more if that was even possible. “Can you not see that Hannah’s not interested in your offer?” you stopped right in front of him.

Cormac smiled at you, mocking you non-verbally. “This conversation doesn’t concern you, (Y/L/N),” Cormac spit as you took another daring step towards him. He took a step back. 

You chuckled angrily, “Oh, I think it does. It’s quite clear by her body language that Hannah is uncomfortable. So how about you stop and walk away now before we have a bigger problem on our hands.” The grip on your wand was iron as you glared at McLaggen who just stood in front of you with his arms crossed. “You alright, Han?” you look at your younger friend with a concerned smile.

Hannah walks away from the wall and walks towards you and George, exhaling a held in breath. “Fine now,” she breathes. “Thank you,” she whispers to you before George takes her hand gently and asks if she needs anything before offering to walk her to class to make sure she gets there with no other interruptions.

Now you and McLaggen were alone and you could have your way with him. 

“Well, you just cost me a date,” Cormac growls at you as you maintain your position, unafraid of the coward before you.

You lift your wand so it is aimed right at McLaggen’s chest as he gulps. “What I did was rescue a poor girl from your maniacal behavior. You are disgusting, you know that? A proper tool,” you spit at him as Cormac rolls his eyes and dares to try and walk away from you. Cormac takes three paces away from you before you call out with a flick of your wand, “Levicorpus!” 

In an instant, Cormac yelps before being hoisted into the air by his ankle at the mercy of your wand. “What in the bloody hell is wrong with you?!” he screams out which soon makes a few students gather and laugh at the scene before them. “Put me down! Right now!”

With a devilish smile, you yell back, “What’s wrong with me? My problem is with you, McLaggen! You never seem to understand when someone isn’t interested. You are gross. Not only for the sake of other’s, but for the sake of yourself, keep it in your pants and hands off, you imbecile!” 

Your taunting makes Cormac writhe, trying to get out of the hex, but to no avail. This only makes him look even more stupid, causing the now audience to point and laugh at Cormac which makes him blush in sheer embarrassment. “Put me down now!” he screams out, failing around wildly.

You hold him there for a few more seconds before George appears at your side. He looks up at Cormac’s position as starts wildly laughing. “Quite the pickle you’ve gotten yourself into, McLaggen!” George calls out as you laugh. 

“Weasley, tell your girlfriend to put me down!” Cormac writhes again, fighting against the hex and clearly losing.

George wraps an arm around your shoulder and kisses your temple, pride swelling in his chest. “Eh, I think you should do as the man says,” George looks at you as you give George a twisted look. “Drop him.”

Your face lights up, Cormac protesting, knowing damn well what’s coming next. “Don’t you dare!” Cormac exclaims.

Before he can say much else, you flick your wrist and Cormac plummets to the ground with a thud. The audience before you erupts with loud laughter as Cormac groans in pain before making his way to his feet. “When will you ever learn,” you start, still holding your wand up as a threat, “that you are repulsive.”

Cormac fixes his robes and glares at you darkly as you stand there, triumphantly smiling. “When will you ever learn that you are just a dimwitted Hufflepuff who will never achieve anything short of failure,” Cormac speaks through gritted teeth before spitting at your feet.

This makes George furious as he lunges towards the younger Gryffindor, about to beat the life out of him. But you place a hand on George’s chest and speak simply, “No, McLaggen,” you smile. “I’ll be hot and successful, while you’ll just be boring, stupid, and bald.”

“Bald? What do you-”

“Calvario!” you cry out.

With a flash of green, all the hair disappears from Cormac’s head. His eyes go wide and he pats the top of his head, in shock that his luscious locks were now gone and replaced with a shiny bald top. The crowd is crying with laughter as Cormac screams in horror and runs the other way and towards the bathrooms.

You stand there in victory, relishing in it all as the audience files away, chatter erupting about how funny it all was and how you gave him what he rightfully deserved. George wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you close to him as you started walking down the hall, “You are something else,” he shakes his head as you smile up at him. “I know you can defend yourself, but I still don’t like the way he talked about you and he’s gonna get a personal message from me about it,” George speaks through gritted teeth.

“I think he’s had enough taunting for the day, Georgie. The thought is sweet and although I would love for him to get what he’s owed, it’s okay,” you squeeze the hand that rests on your hip.

George sighs, “I just want you to know that I’m here to protect you as well. I may not do it as well as you, but I’ll protect you no matter what. I want you to know that.”

You smile up at your love and brush his cheek with your thumb. “I do know that, Georgie. Thank you,” you speak as he kisses your palm sweetly, resting his cheek in your hand lovingly. “You’re my person.”

“And you’re mine,” George speaks to you before ducking down to kiss you gently. “Now let’s get you to class before you get yourself into more trouble.”

[dreaming-about-fanfictions]

Don’t Steal My (Frog’s) Heart - Draco Malfoy x Reader

Summary: Draco Malfoy - the boy who flirts with you in Potions and ends up becoming the love of your life. 

A/N: The only good thing about this sickness is that I get to write so much lol. Enjoy!!

Inspired by this post

Words: 1.174 Pairing: Draco Malfoy x fem!Reader Warnings: none

Potions Classroom, Fifth Year

“You know, when you stole my heart, I wasn’t expecting you to lose it.”

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake, Malfoy, stop it and get down here to help me look for it!”, you hissed and almost hit your head.

“You can feel lucky, that’s the first time I’m getting on my knees for a girl.” He groaned as he dropped down and crawled underneath the table.

“It’ll also be the last time if you don’t shut up right now.”

Malfoy chuckled in response.

You ignored it – this was the reason you hated working with Slytherins in Potions. Well, not Slytherins, him. Ever since your friend drunkenly announced that you used to have crush on him in the second year, Draco Malfoy made it his mission to drive you to insanity whenever you had Potions together. He chose that subject because of Snape’s brilliant idea to pair you two up permanently for the rest of the year. Now, you couldn’t escape him if you wanted to.

It didn’t bother you because you didn’t like the blond-haired idiot. If anything, his constant teasing brought back any feelings that you thought had already left. No, it bothered you because you were certain that he just did this for his own amusement. You heard the rumors of him and Parkinson dating again and you were quite sure that he wasn’t interested in a Hufflepuff girl when he could have her.

“There I see it!”, Draco exclaimed and pointed underneath the cabinet next to the table.

“Shit,” you whined. “Why do frogs hearts have to be so small?!” You laid down on your stomach and tried to reach for it, unsuccessfully. “Can you try? Your arms are longer.”

Draco looked at you dumbfounded. “Just use your wand.”

You admitted – his idea was better. Both of you crawled back out from underneath the table and got up. You patted down your skirt and robe, getting rid of all the dirt and dust. In the meantime, Malfoy pulled his wand out of his bag.

“Accio, frog heart,” he mumbled and pointed in its direction.

Looking back on this day now, his idea turned out to be the worse one after all. The frog heart shot out from underneath the cupboard and flew up to him with extraordinary speed. You saw how his eyes widened before he grabbed the heart right out of the air with his free hand. You heard the disgusting squishing sound and then blood followed, running down his wrist and dripping on the floor.

Malfoy looked at his hand and back at you, who still stared at him.

You finally just shrugged and turned around to start packing up the rest of the ingredients for the potion.

He cleared his throat at your reaction. “Why aren’t you yelling at me?”, he asked, suspicion hiding in his voice.

“I’m trying to think of ways how you can make this up,” you replied and put apple tree wood back in its container.

“Make what up?”

“Well,” you began sharply but stopped yourself. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of being mad right now. You continued in a softer voice: “Well, Snape was clear and not giving us a second heart in case some bullshit like this,” you pointed at his hand, “happened. Which means, we failed this assignment. Which means, you might have cost me my grade.”

“If your grade solely depends on this assignment, that’s not my problem,” he shot back.

“Shut up, Malfoy, and clean yourself.”

Draco didn’t move. He watched you from the side – even though you didn’t look at him, you felt his glance lingering on you. Like an itch you weren’t supposed to scratch, you tried to ignore him.

“I might have an idea on how to make this up,” he said.

This peaked your interest. Your hand movements slowed down, and you glanced at him from the corner of your eyes.

“Go with me to Hogsmeade next weekend.”

***

Entrance Hall, Seventh Year

You found him on the stairs, sitting between the ruins and ashes, staring at his dusty shoes. The sight of him threw you off and a whimper escaped your throat. You stopped abruptly which caused some guy from the ministry to almost run into you. He cursed at you and you mumbled a distraught apology.

There was dirt on his face mixed with blood, and it left you wondering whether or not it was his. After a moment, you began to approach him – carefully, cautiously. When you stood in front of him, he looked up and you saw the dried tears on his cheeks.

A confusing mixture of relief and pain washed over you and you suddenly dropped down in front of him. You pulled him into a hug and he held on to you so tightly, you were scared he would break you. No sounds left your mouths, no tears wetted your shirts – only ragged breaths were heard as you held one another, trying to understand if this was real. If it was really your bodies against each other, your hands gripping the fabric of your clothes.

“You left,” you whispered when the two of you finally separated.

“I’m sorry,” his voice broke and he raised his hands to cup your cheek. You leaned into the touch. “I-I … I came back,” Draco stammered. “I’m sorry I left, I …”

“It’s okay.” You leaned forward to rest your forehead against his. “You came back. It’s all that matters now.”

He let out a shuddering sigh. “I’ll always come back for you,” he mumbled. “You have to believe me, I’ll always come back for you.”

“I believe you,” you replied softly.

“Because you know … when you stole my heart, I wasn’t expecting you to keep it.”

And for the first time in weeks – you laughed. You started to shake and before you knew it, in the middle of all this madness and terror, you truly laughed. You couldn’t get yourself to stop. All of the pain and fear of the last hours, watching your classmates die in front of you, seeing Potter defeat Lord Voldemort – the realization that all of it was finally over, hit you, and your body reacted in the weirdest way possible. You let yourself fall back on the gravel, giggles still escaping as you covered your mouth to muffle the sounds. Draco watched you with a smile, a sad and defeated one, but a smile nonetheless.

“How long were you sitting on that one?”, you asked him once you had calmed down. You wiped away the tears from your cheeks. Tears from laughter, you realized and couldn’t remember the last time that happened.

“Since the day I asked you out,” he admitted. “I wanted to say it when I’d propose but I figured … the day we survived a war was a good alternative.”

You shook your head in disbelief, warmth spreading in your chest. “I love you so fucking much, Draco Malfoy.”

The smile on his face widened. “Same, little Hufflepuff, same.”

***

A/N: Thank you for reading <3

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[fatefulfaerie]

Knight

Linktober 2021 prompt 5/31

Incarnation: A Link Between Worlds

Word Count: 990

Link knew he wasn’t to abuse his new role as a knight in Hyrule Castle, wasn’t to take advantage of it or skirt it like it didn’t matter. Yuga’s chaos had caused a certain level of unrest across the kingdom and, even with him defeated, people were on edge. Security was doubled at the castle and so it was even more of a given that the Hero of Worlds be given one of the coveted slots.

He had a route and he was expected to stick to it, to pace back and forth one hour after the next along his given hallway. Of course Link was loyal to Hyrule, wanted to protect it, but he was probably the warrior who knew best that there wasn’t a threat to worry about. That knowledge made night shifts all the more boring.

So Link found himself across the castle, far away from the route he had been assigned, and far away from pacing the corridor. If someone found him he was ready to say that he thought he heard something but it turned out to just be a rat, but for now he peered around the corner of a corridor of portraits.

It was just a rumor.

And so he felt like a fool spying like this. He had tried to ignore it, but he couldn’t stop his curiosity, couldn’t stop wondering if there really was a portrait of a previous hero and princess in each other’s arms, if the princess really did sneak out of her bed to admire it, if this all meant that he really did have a chance in hell with his likely foolish crush on the Princess of Hyrule.

“Link?”

He jumped out of his skin, flinching so much he almost jumped.

“Goddesses,” he whispered before turning around. His jaw dropped.

“What are you doing here?” 

Zelda asked it as casually as if she had found him in town during the daylight, her smile beaming and making Link forget that it was night time.

He stammered. His mouth moved, but no sound came out.

She was in her night gown but it didn’t seem to phase her as much as it did him, Link’s face flushing red as strawberries ready for plucking. Never had he seen the princess, let alone any girl, that wasn’t covered from neck to toe. Her nightgown was modest, of course, but he could see her collarbone, the shape of her breasts.

He shut his eyes before they could trail down any further.

“Uhm,” he said, covering his already shut eyes with his hand. “I th-thought…”

What was his cover story again? 

“I…um…”

He felt her gentle hand on his wrist, and she gently guided it down. She smiled, but Link didn’t see it.

“Open your eyes,” she prompted casually. “Come on. You can see me in my nightgown. You’ve seen much uglier things. Besides, this fabric isn’t sheer, it covers up everything. Nothing improper about this in the slightest.”

Link opened his eyes slowly and cautiously. The nightgown was pink and she wore it elegantly. It shone in the moonlight yet she shone far brighter. 

“You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

It spilled out to contradict her previous statement but it came out as a declaration of love, which is why Zelda’s eyebrows rose.

Her blush matched the hue of her nightgown. 

“Uhm.”

Finally she had as little composure as Link, which would have made him less anxious if he wasn’t currently regretting being so forward with his words. Did he make her uncomfortable? He didn’t mean to.

“S-sorry,” he stammered. “I just—“

Zelda took Link completely off guard when she pecked the lips of the blushing knight clad in clunky armor that was a couple sizes too big.

It was only a millisecond of contact between them and yet it spurred an eternity of warmth in both their hearts, their cheeks, their souls, the fourteen year-olds staring at each other in the aftermath of their first kiss.

“Th-thanks,” Link finally said.

Thanks? That’s the best he could do? The princess of Hyrule just kissed him and all he could think to say was thanks? What must she think of him?

She giggled.

A lot. That was the answer. She must think a lot of him to forgive his dorky verbosity.

“You’re welcome,” Zelda said. She averted her gaze and looked down at the way her right foot scuffed back and forth. Her fingers were playing with each other nervously behind her back. “I actually have been thinking about doing that for a while now.”

Link was so confused.

“Really?” He asked. He couldn’t believe it.

Zelda looked back up and nodded.

“It just took me a bit to get up the nerve,” she said. “I don’t exactly have your courage.”

Link almost laughed.

“Apparently I don’t have my courage either,” he said, to Zelda’s surprise. “I…well I’ve been wanting to kiss you too.”

Zelda took his hand slowly, not because she was being cautious, but because she was reveling in the sensation.

“Is that why you came up here?” She asked. “You were starting to get up the nerve?”

“No, actually, I…” he hesitated. “Well I was, but…I heard a rumor…about a painting in this hallway. People say you like to stare at it, the…” he didn’t even know if it actually existed. What a painting to be asking about in this moment. “The one with the princess and the hero?”

“Is that what they say?” Zelda asked rhetorically. “Goodness sake the entrance to my chambers is in this hallway. Sometimes I’ll give it a passing glance like I do the other paintings…”

She shrugged her shoulders sheepishly and tipped her head.

“When I was little I used to dream that I would find a hero too.”

She met Link’s blue gaze.

“I never thought I would be so lucky.”

Link smiled.

“Me neither.”