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vroomvroomcircuit · 6 months

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You pulling in made me wish your Dad pulled out

(A/N): Thank you to @foreveralbon for workshopping this fic with me with this prompt. I don't know what to do if you weren't my muse.

Summary: Charles pissed off his neighbor with his parking. Her answers are notes taped to his car window. How can evolve more out of that?

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x female!reader

Wordcount: 1.6k

🏎Masterlist🏎 ________________________

(Y/N) knows that she isn’t the most professional car parker. She should never start a career as a valet for sure. After all, she needed a second attempt on her own practical test to attain her drivers license.

But there is this one neighbor of hers. She doesn’t know what he looks like, what his name is or where he even lives. But (Y/N) knows one thing for sure: He is a shit parker.

Like, he is the worst person at parking that has ever walked the world. If he could, he probably would park his oh so expensive car onto other cars. But she tries to not let that get too close to her. After all, we just talk about parking spaces and it’s not worth getting her blood pressure up over it.

But (Y/N) found her tipping point.

Her whole morning has been a shit show. Her alarm went off, but she accidentally turned it off instead of giving herself another five minutes of sleep. Five minutes turned into 45. That meant the young woman had to rush through her usual morning routine and she is 90 % sure that she put at least one clothing item on the wrong way.

But it’s ok, she is still on time. She just needs to get out of the car par-

This is where (Y/N) last thread of patience with that neighbor snaps in two like a potato chip, crisp and unclean. This person parked the front half of his car in a way that completely blocks (Y/N)’s rear end from exiting the car in a way that does not hinder the sidewalk.

It takes a solid seven minutes to get out of her spot, trying not to scratch hers or another car. Arriving a few minutes late at work because of that and receiving a reprimand from her boss is really the young woman’s last straw. On her lunch break she does some snooping on the internet and comes across a really fine find. It’s worth the price and shipping cost to her.

Actually, she can’t wait for the week it is supposed to take to arrive at her doorstep.

But the time between that particular day and the day of arrival do fly by when you use it getting madder and madder at the dickhead that is unable to park like a normal person.

The next occurrence doesn’t take long after (Y/N)’s package finally arrives. She wanted to park her vehicle in her usual spot when Mr. Ferrari already took his and her own too. How can one person be such an asshole?

(Y/N) takes one of the business card sized cuts out of her glove box and puts it in the slit of the black car’s window. Satisfied with her work she steps back into her vehicle and looks for a different spot, ending up walking several minutes back to her apartment building, having to look somewhere farther away.

Charles can see from a distance that there is a card at his car’s windowshield. Which makes him suspicious. Surely no one thinks that he wants to sell his car for cheap, so it can’t be one of those car handler’s business cards. Maybe it’s a new ruse of thieves, trying to get him to stand long enough at his car to read it and be able to steal his car. Or they are kidnappers. Anyways, he makes quick work of putting the card into his pocket and drives off at a neck breaking speed.

When he arrives at his destination, the Monegasque pulls the piece of paper out and reads it. “The way you pulled in makes me wish your dad pulled out”, he reads aloud, laughing a little to himself.

He has to admit that he might not be the best at parking. Who is he even kidding, he would win the world championship at being the worst car parker possible. But the thought of someone getting that angered over his non-existent skills.

It’s something that makes him happy throughout his entire day. Which is his main reason to try and look how much he can piss that particular neighbor off even more.

So Charles starts parking even worse. If he also starts on the habit of watching out of his window more often now, he would claim it is just a coincidence. But something in him wants to meet that neighbor.

That person that gets more and more creative with their insults. One time they called him an obstacle to evolution. The other day the business card said something along the lines of him belonging to the asshole club now.

Another, a handwritten, note asked him not to reproduce. The neighbor even left a condom for him. This made Charles laugh so loudly, that (Y/N) looked out her opened window.

She just finished one of the worst shifts she ever had since starting that job and all she wants is just a quiet evening to come down from the stress. Just the noise of the laugh is enough to set her off again.

Seeing her handsome neighbor from under her apartment pocketing the note and condom she left just minutes earlier isn’t what she expected. Watching him opening the car, sitting down and driving off is even less on her list.

It kind of destroys her world view, realizing that hot neighbor and asshole parker are the same person. In the last couple of weeks (Y/N) started to get some fun out of the mean comments she left at the black Ferrari’s window. This also could be her chance to finally make a move on him.

The young woman waits for the brunette to return with his car and stays seated on her couch for another couple minutes, for extra measure of course. After that, she leaves the apartment building with her prepared note and tapes it to the car’s rear window.

Charles on the other side stays glued to his window as soon as he enters his apartment. He finally wants to catch the person that gets angrier and angrier each time he parks in an outrageous way in the act.

Seeing the beautiful neighbor, who lives above him, sticking another note to his car makes his heart flutter in an unexpected way. For some time now he wanted to get to know her and if everything went according to his original plan, ask her out on a date. But maybe he can now use this to his advantage.

As soon as the beautiful neighbor is back in the building Charles waits an extra couple minutes before he once again makes his way to his car.

Running over his vehicle with a pep in his step, Charles is kind of excited about what insults or threats await him now. He has to admit, he actually parked pretty decently. Or as decent as he is able to. So the note has to be at least a little bit nicer than the previous ones.

“Hey neighbor. I thought instead of shitting on you and your parking skills even more, I want you to help and get better. I may not be a driving teacher, but helping you wouldn’t make your skills worse. Just text me with the times you are available at ;)” signed with (Y/N)’s name and number.

It’s kind of funny to explain to the press later how Charles met (Y/N) and became her boyfriend.

"Yeah, well I know that my driving has become sort of a, a meme,” he answers when asked a week after his announcement on instagram, “And my neighbor wasn’t too fond of it either. So she started to leave me these really funny, but also really aggressive notes at my car. One said something like I won the inconsiderate Parker Price. Which made me quite proud.” This entices a laugh out of the journalist. “Yeah, (Y/N) has a really good way with words, I fear. But in the end she offered me some parking lessons.” Charles smiles and thinks back to them.

He had texted (Y/N) immediately and they set up a date for the lesson two days away. But they still continued to text non stop and by the time they met up, it felt like they had been friends for years.

Which didn’t stop (Y/N) raging at Charles after his fifth failed attempt of parking his car according to her instructions. “I don’t believe you anymore. With the way you park you are not from Monaco but the deepest and wildest parts of Italy! Your Ferrari seems really fitting now!” This drew a laugh out of him until she graced him with the meanest look he didn’t expect her to be able to muster up.

“How about dinner as a thank you and apology?” He asked sheepishly, trying both to diffuse the situation and make his move. Why not shoot his shot right now?

Luckily the young woman agreed.

“In the end my parking skills weren’t enough to win her over, but my charm was what scored me a second date.”

And a third. A relationship. After some more funny parking jokes and him kneeling down on one knee with a ring and the promise to take lessons to keep their future family safe he even scored himself his unexpected forever.

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fanfic #x reader #reader insert #charles leclerc x female!reader #x female!reader

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panandinpain0 · 11 months

Note

Miss Granger x female Slytherin I beg you 🙏🙏 but a nice one

Summer Lovin'

Sorry this took so long! I've got a schedule out now so I'll be doing these requests more regularly <3

Enjoy!

@@@

Requested by: Anon

Hermione Granger x Fem!Slytherin!Reader

The fresh smell of new books would always cheer Hermione up. Not that she was in a bad mood, but it cheered her up nonetheless. Hearing the bell ring above the door was something Hermione had been longing to hear all year, the smell of a citrus scented candle wafting around the sunlit shop.

The walls had chipped brown paint on them, a warm timber color that seemed to be fading, showing the true age of the building. The wood floors had colorful rugs placed here and there, the children’s section a burst of color against the serene atmosphere. Waving to the man at the front desk, someone she’d seen there often over the years, Hermione was on her way to find a new book.

She walked slowly down the fiction aisle, her finger skimming the spines of each book. When she found one that caught her eye she pulled it off the shelf, reading the synopsis on the back.

“Looking for something exciting?” a voice asked, making Hermione flinch in surprise. She looked up at the person next to her, eyes wide. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” she laughed and held her hands up to show that she meant no harm.

“You’re fine, it’s just very quiet in here,” Hermione reassured, smiling gently at the girl in front of her. “And yes, something exciting. I’ve been reading non-fiction these last couple of months and decided to switch it up.” She waved the book in her hand around slightly.

“Hence the fiction section,” the girl commented, smiling with amusement when Hermione agreed. “That one is one of my favorites.” She gestured to the book Hermione was holding.

Hermione looked back down at the book, reexamining it. “Is it any good?”

“I’d like to think I have pretty good taste,” she replied, skimming the titles of the books on the shelf in front of her.

“Are you looking for something to read?” Hermione questioned, holding on to her book with more certainty than before.

“No, I just come here to find pretty girls to talk to,” she replied, her face completely serious.

Hermione was slightly taken aback, hesitating before asking, “Really?”

The girl’s serious face morphed into a smirk, shaking her head calmly. “No, I was being sarcastic. But that does tend to be one of the perks of this shop.”

Hermione laughed nervously in response, nodding her head before tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.

“Yes, I’m here to find a new book to read. Any suggestions?” She motioned to the shelf they were standing in front of.

Hermione turned serious as she inspected the spines, her eyes catching a specific one. As she pulled it off the shelf she asked, “How do you feel about a mystery with a romantic subplot?”

“Sounds right up my alley, if I’m being honest.”

Hermione handed her the book and they both made their way up to the counter to pay.

“You’ll have to let me know how you like the book,” the girl insisted, scribbling something down on a nearby paper. Ripping it off she handed it to Hermione. “This is my house phone, don't be surprised if my parents answer.”

“I won’t…” Hermione trailed off as she realized she didn’t know the girl’s name.

Catching the hint, the girl stuck out her hand for Hermione to shake. “(Y/N) (L/N), at your service.”

“Hermione Granger,” she returned.

“Hermione?” a voice called from outside the shop, catching both girl’s attention. Hermione’s father waved to her through the window, motioning that it was time for them to leave.

“Ah, I’ve got to go. It was a pleasure meeting you! I hope to hear how you enjoy my book as well.” Hermione smiled, cheeks pink as she said goodbye. She scolded herself as she walked away, reminding herself that she had a new friend and she shouldn’t expect anything more. Well, she had a new and very attractive friend. There’s a difference…

A Week Later…

Sniffling, Hermione gently closed the book and placed it on her lap, wiping at her tears. It had been a wonderful yet heart wrenching book, in which the main character lost the person which they loved most. She took a deep breath as she looked out of her cracked window, reflecting on what she’d read. Taking a sip of the tea that had gone cold, long forgotten after the climax of the book started, she stood up.

Hermione had been using the slip of paper (Y/N) had handed her at the bookshop as a bookmark, so as not to lose it. Now, she’d use it for its actual purpose. Gliding down the stairs, Hermione found the landline in their kitchen, dialing in the number and holding it to her ear.

As it started to ring she felt pangs of nervousness with each ring that sounded. Should she actually call her? It wasn’t a prank, was it? She didn’t think it was- they both were interested in reading and it’d be nice to have someone to talk to about it… What if she’d been making fun of Hermione the whole time and-?

“Hello?”

Clearing her throat quickly, Hermione recovered from her surprise at the voice. “Yes, hello. This is Hermione Granger, I was wondering if I could speak to (Y/N)?”

“Just a minute,” what seemed to be (Y/N)’s mother responded. Hermione heard a distant shout for her, with a “your friend’s on the phone!” after.

After another moment a different voice echoed through the phone.

“Hey, bookshop girl! Hermione, right?” (Y/N) teased through the phone, and her ease comforted Hermione from her anxieties.

“Yes, it’s Hermione. I finished the book you recommended, just now actually.”

An excited gasp could be heard, followed by a, “Did you cry? How much did you cry?”

Hermione let out a somewhat offended scoff and shook her head, even though (Y/N) couldn’t see it.

“For your information I did cry, it was a sad ending! How come you didn’t warn me?”

“What would be the fun in reading it if I’d told you how it ends?” Hermione could hear the smile in her voice.

“I suppose you’re right,” Hermione sighed back, sitting down on a stool near the counter. “Have you finished the one I gave you yet?”

“Yes, I did! You know, I always do the same thing with mystery books. I think I’ve figured out who the culprit is within three chapters and am always completely wrong by the end of the book.”

Hermione chuckled, “I also thought it was Mr. Barnabee until chapter sixteen.”

“It so should’ve been him, right? And that crazy reveal in sixteen where Gracie the mistress pulled out the handkerchief- it was exhilarating.”

“I take it you liked it?” Hermione twisted the phone cord around her finger, giving her hands something to do while they talked.

“Oh yes, I thoroughly enjoyed it. Any more recommendations? I was going to go back to the bookshop this weekend to feed my addiction.”

“Addiction?”

“Of literature.”

Hermione snorted, laughing at the response. “That’s a bit dramatic, don’t you think?” The smile in her voice was evident.

“Not at all. I can’t seem to stop and it’s draining my bank account.”

Hermione giggled again. “How about this, we can meet up and shop together?”

“Even better. I’ll be there Saturday at noon.”

“I will too.”

“Bye.”

As the line clicked to signal (Y/N) had hung up, Hermione bit her lip and sighed. She stopped mid-giggling and shook her head, scolding herself again. She’d found another friend who enjoys reading just as much as she does, that doesn’t mean she can’t still scare them off. She needed to tone it down.

…

The summer had ended as soon as it began as the girl’s read together. They started going to each other’s houses to read, and Hermione had gotten into the habit of laying her head on (Y/N)’s lap, listening to her tell the most wondrous stories from the books.

They laughed together, cried together, damn near did everything together. None of which helped Hermione get rid of her feelings in the slightest. Little did she know, (Y/N) had started to harbor feelings for her as well, what with so much time spent with each other.

Today they were reading separately, Hermione sitting against the headboard of her bed while (Y/N) laid at the end, legs hanging off as she fingered the corner of the page. It didn’t seem like she was actually reading, but lost in thought.

Hermione’s gaze kept darting from her book to the girl in front of her, blushing every time she was almost caught.

Truth was, both the girl’s were trying to figure out how to tell the other they wouldn’t be at home for the school year. They couldn’t very well tell the other that she was a witch! Well, they could, but they didn’t know that yet.

(Y/N) shifted her position to sit up, facing Hermione and abandoning her book.

“‘Mione?”

“Hm?” Hermione set down her book, giving (Y/N) her full attention.

“I need to tell you something.”

“What is it?” She began to worry, her own problems shoved to the back of her mind.

“Summer’s almost over… I just wanted to tell you that I won’t be here when school starts back up.” (Y/N) bit her lip, picking at the skin of her nails. “I’m attending this boarding school, it’s a live-in…”

Hermione let out a somewhat relieved sigh at the admission, setting her book aside and scooting towards (Y/N) on the bed. Taking her hands in her own, Hermione smiled at her.

“I won’t either for the same reasons.” Her worry drained away as she saw (Y/N) shoulders relax and a smile appear on her face. They still wouldn’t be seeing each other until winter break or summer, but at least she wouldn’t be leaving Hermione behind. They both had reasons for not being home.

“Can I send you letters?” (Y/N) asked, playing with Hermione’s hand that rested between them. She knew it probably wouldn’t be the best idea to have a muggle sending letters to a wizarding village, or castle, without knowing, but what she didn’t know couldn’t hurt her- right?

Hermione seemed to be going through the same possibilities in her head, but ever since she’d met (Y/N), her priorities had been a bit skewed.

“Yes, you can. I’ll write down the address,” Hermione got up and scribbled on a piece of paper, handing it to (Y/N). She put it between the pages of her book immediately without looking at it, knowing she wouldn’t remember a lick of it anyways. When she sends her first letter Hermione can just look at the address she wrote from to write back.

Hermione sat back down on the bed and the two girls shared a look of understanding. They wouldn’t see each other in person for a while but that doesn’t mean this friendship had to only be for the summer.

(Y/N) reached across the bed and wrapped her arms around Hermione’s neck, pulling her into a hug. Hermione returned the gesture, arms around (Y/N)’s waist as she tucked her head into her neck. She just knew (Y/N) and the boys would get along so well if they’d ever get the chance to meet.

“I’ll miss you,” (Y/N) whispered into Hermione’s hair.

“I’ll miss you more.”

“I doubt it.”

“Don’t fight me on this, you won’t win.”

Hermione pulled (Y/N) back and they both laid on the bed, laughing together.

A Week Later…

They’d said their official goodbyes the night before hugging and holding hands until it got late enough that Hermione knew she wouldn’t want to wake up the next morning. When they parted, (Y/N) had kissed her cheek, handing Hermione a book she’d bought her as a farewell gift.

Sitting in her parents car, Hermione read the synopsis on the back of the book, smiling and flipping through the pages.

There’s no doubt Harry and Ron would hear more about (Y/N) than they’d care to, but that’s just what comes with being friends, you hear about each other’s crushes whether you like it or not. Not that Hermione would ever admit to it being a crush. Or that she’d touched the place (Y/N) had kissed on her cheek every time she thought of her…

Arriving at platform nine and three quarters, Hermione bid her parents goodbye with a hug and ran straight into the brick pillar. Coming out on the other side, Hermione took in the air, already feeling the magic thrumming through it, as if she could taste it.

Taking her bags off of the cart she had pushed them in with, she left it near the entrance and searched for her friends, specifically for the family of redheads, knowing Harry would most likely be with the Weasley’s.

Eventually she found Ron and Harry with them, and they boarded the train. Now they walked down the aisle, searching for an empty compartment, Hermione leading. Suddenly, as she was looking through the windows of one of the doors, someone ran into her. She was pushed back into Ron, who helped her stand back on two feet.

“Oh, I’m so sorry! I wasn’t looking where I was going- ‘Mione?” the extremely familiar voice gasped in shock.

Looking up, Hermione met (Y/N)’s gaze. “(Y/N)?!” Hermione asked back with just as much surprise.

“I didn’t know you were a witch,” they both said at the same time, laughing with each other after.

“Well, this makes things much easier,” (Y/N) admitted, pulling Hermione into a hug after handing her the bag that she’d dropped back.

“You two know each other?” Harry asked, gaze darting down to (Y/N)’s green and silver tie.

“We met over the summer,” Hermione filled in, also taking in (Y/N)’s uniform (but not for the same reasons). “I had no idea you went to Hogwarts,” Hermione repeated, moving out of the way as a few people passed by.

“I didn’t know you went here either! There’s an empty compartment just up here.” (Y/N) led them just two doors up and opened it, letting them all enter and following after.

“So how did you two meet?” Harry asked, looking slyly between the two as they sat across from Ron and himself.

“At this muggle bookshop, we were both looking for something to read and started spending time together,” (Y/N) explained after putting Hermione’s bag above them next to her own.

They spent the rest of the time getting to know each other, Ron still holding a bit of distaste for her house, but pushing that aside as they talked about the Chudley Cannons together. Harry had liked her from the start, well- as soon as she said she disliked Malfoy about as much as the rest of them.

Once they arrived at Hogwarts they got off the train, knowing they’d have to separate soon. (Y/N)’s Slytherin friends waved in the distance, calling out her name.

“Well, I’d better go now. It was a pleasure meeting you two, and it was a welcomed surprise to see you, Hermione.” (Y/N) smiled and took Hermione’s hand, kissing the back of her knuckles. Hermione’s face heated at the action, Ron and Harry deciding they should just start walking to avoid making things awkward.

“Don’t be a stranger. Now that I know you go here I want to spend time with you,” Hermione admitted, not letting go of (Y/N)’s hand until she did it herself.

“I promise, I’ll see you as much as possible. And hey, now we recommend wizarding books to each other.” (Y/N) winked and hugged Hermione goodbye, walking away to see her friends.

Hermione bit her lip before turning to where Ron and Harry had waited for her. She jogged to catch up to them, and they started walking to the carriages.

“So, a Slytherin?” Harry teased and Hermione elbowed him in the side, Ron throwing his head back as he laughed.

This was going to be an interesting year.

End

Hope that was okay! Thanks again for requesting <3

-Author Max <3

#fanfiction #x reader #fluff #writer #fandoms #harry potter #hermione x fem!reader #hermione granger #hermione x reader #x she/her reader #x fem!reader #x female reader #x fem reader #x female!reader #hermione granger x reader

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letarasstuff · 11 months

Text

Female Rage

(A/N): Initially, I wanted to end this one on a hopeful note. But fighting the war of equality and equity can be pretty hopeless. I tried to be as inclusive as possible, but it's came out in a very binary way. I'm sorry for that and I'm readyto change anything.

Summary: Spencer learns from his daughter how much the patriarchy really sucks.

Word count: 1.3k

Warnings: the utter feeling of hopelessness in today's patriarchy, unwanted advances, some men suck

✨Masterlist✨

_________________________

“Hey, what’s with you today?” Spencer asks after hearing his daughter slamming the front door shut.

Her stomping feet bring her towards the living room, where he sits on the couch with a book in his hands, deciding whether or not he’ll include it in his next class. Looking up from the written words, he instantly spots all the emotion running over (Y/N)’s face.

Now, being a father to a 16 year old teenager wasn’t always easy and especially since puberty started it’s becoming increasingly difficult to decipher his child, but Spencer knows right away what kind of emotional cocktail is playing here: Anger, hurt, a pinch of shock and layered under all of this is a certain type of fear. Which one is up to (Y/N) telling him.

“What’s with me today?” She asks him in an incredulous tone. “With me? What about you? Or your entire gender. No, seriously. How can you men go around, trumpeting how you are the stronger, the smarter, the better, the most superior gender? And mean that? Even going as far as to believe that bullshit”

(Y/N) stops, taking in a deep breath. Her father looks at her with waiting eyes, thinking that she now will calmly explain to him what her whole tirade is about. But it seems that this was just the prologue. Because she continues with even more vigour in her voice than she started with.

“For real, what makes you even think that? Stronger than a person, who was assigned female at birth? Just because you are able to build muscles faster than we? Or lose weight faster than us? You know what I call that? An evolutionary problem, because while I got emergency fat to feed off in the case of, I don’t know, an apocalypse, you will freeze to death.

“Our bodies are, for the most part, able to grow an entire functioning human being. We literally take a breakfast bar and build fingers with that energy.

“And for the smarter part? No, absolutely not. So many findings in history have been stolen from women by men, who greedily put their name on it and call it a day of science. Without women, cars probably would still drive around with windshield wipers. Mary Anderson has been laughed at for that idea, despite being one of the first women to hold a patent. And as soon as it expired, suddenly wipers were installed in all cars. Out of nowhere, it stopped being a dumb idea? Just because you weren’t able to attribute it to a woman?!

“But what more to expect from a gender that made protective gear for their testicles in hockey mandatory a hundred years before doing the same thing with a helmet. Who would have thought that brain cells need protection, too? A woman definitely.

I don’t wanna say one gender is better than the other or that there should be a particular fight between any gender at all, but men make it out like that. Damn it, they make women compete with each other to garner their attention. All those “pick me” girls you make fun of? They are the product of internalised misogyny.

“The baseline is wanting to be different from the “typical girl”, right? Well, what is a typical girl, who defined her and why is it so bad to be typical. Who do I want to be different for? Who is mad that I’m dressing up, putting makeup on or having good friendships with other girls?

“Men apparently, because they don’t want a different girl. They don’t want a well dressed, put together woman for the sake of love or so. They want someone easy. Nothing complicated, not someone, who asks them if these pants do look better with that shirt or this blouse. They don’t want to be confronted with problems. That’s why they made up a narrative of how a woman is supposed to be, solely for their own interest.

“And this whole thing eradicates the beautiful experiences you can have as a woman. I don’t talk about these silly and partly belittling things like girl dinner or girl maths. I’m talking about hyping each other up. Bathrooms in a club are fun, because there are a bunch of strangers, talking another stranger up to shoot their shot. Or down from texting their ex. There is unity.

“So where do men get their audacity?!”

Ending her whole rant with this question, (Y/N) stands in front of her father, seething and looking like she is about to overthrow the patriarchy with her own two hands. Right here, right now.

Meanwhile Spencer has started to shrink into the sofa and looks as physically small as possible.

“Uhm, the audacity for what, Sweetheart?” He asks hesitantly, scared for her reaction, but also knowing that this is something his daughter needs to get out of her system.

“TO WALK UP TO ME AND TRYING TO GET SOMETHING ON WITH ME WHILE HE CLEARLY HAS BEEN TRYING TO DESTROY MY WHOLE PRESENTATION! TO FLIRT WITH A MINOR WHILE HE CLEAR AS DAY IS IN HIS MID TO LATE TWENTIES!”

(Y/N) falls down on the sofa face first, next to her father. He rubs her arm up and down in a soothing manner, trying to take the fall after her burst of warranted female rage.

“I apologise. I know, there is nothing I can do against all of what you just said. I also know, like you, that we are talking about a structural problem. It’s nothing that can be solved by a few words. It sucks, knowing that your right to vote is younger than the patent on the first motorised vehicle. It’s not right that you always have to stick up for your rights, while mine will never be threatened.

“Nothing about all of this is fair. That I have to raise you in a way to remind you that any man out there could hurt you. It’s not fair that you have to go tell other men making advances at you about an imaginary boyfriend, because they rather believe in the legitimation of a fake male than your no. That you have to say no more than once, just because someone wants to “make sure you really mean it”.

“I can’t do anything right now that will satisfy you.

“But I can promise you that I will always listen to you. Listen to what makes you mad about this system. I will listen to other people, telling me how the patriarchy failed them. I promise to uplift the women in my life, give credit where it’s due and try to be the best feminist I can be.

But you need to promise me to tell me how I can support you the best in a world that wants to diminish your opinion, your rights and you. Can we do that?”

A short moment of silence gives Spencer the opportunity to think about instances, where he had to endure how (Y/N) being born female made her life more difficult. May it be boys pulling your hair on the playground and the teacher saying that they show love in this abusive way. May it be being called emotional or being told to stop being dramatic while talking about her problems. May it be in simply enjoying stereotypical girly things and being called basic because of that.

“Yes, I promise, I’ll keep you in check. And if you start rambling about how men are superior, I’ll ship you off to the worst retirement home I can find,” (Y/N) says, voice a bit muffled by the couch pillows.

The family continues sitting in silence, the feeling of deep and utter unfairness seeping into their bones.

If you have come this far, please consider a reblog or a comment. Not holding you at gunpoint or anything, but it would be pretty neat.

All works:

@venomsvl @kneelforloki @ssa-uglywhore27 @bibissparkles

Criminal Minds:

@averyhotchner @herecomesthewriterwitch @ash19871962 @ellyhotchner

General Spencer Reid:

@mayoanddelight (sunny, you seriously need to tell me when you change your url, this list had such an old one in it)

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x female!reader #spencer reid x daughter!reader #spencer reid x teen!reader #spencer reid #x reader #criminal minds #reader insert #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction #fanfiction #x teen!reader #x daughter!reader #x female!reader

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moonriseoverkyoto · 3 months

Text

Masterlist 🤍

©️moonriseovertokyo 2024. please do not steal, copy, plagiarize, or translate any of my works without my permission.

banner credits @ioveartfilm

Clinking Dogtags and Afterthoughts - pt.1 , pt.2

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish x Riley!Reader aka That time when Soap got a little too involved with Ghost’s little sister before asking who the dog tags around her neck were for..

Save a horse, Help a cowgirl - pt.1, pt. 2

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish x Southern!Medic!Reader aka the two people with the heaviest accents on base fall the hardest for eachother

Drabbles & Untitled Misc.

Secret Admirer! Ghost x Medic! Reader - pt.1

Btw you can also just click the tag #moonwritesstuff to find all of my writings in one place if I have not updated this in time

#masterlist #navigation #call of duty fanfic #cod fanfic #fanfiction #x female!reader #soap mactavish x reader #call of duty #john price #john soap mctavish x reader #soap x reader #cod smut #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #john mactavish #john mctavish x reader #Moonwritesstuff

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scarisd3ad · 3 months

Text

Trouble

Chapter - one (trouble on my left, trouble on my right)

Pairing(s) - stu macher x reader, billy loomis x reader

Summary - ‘trouble on my left, trouble on my right I’ve been facing trouble almost all my life.’

(A/N) - I know its early June, and I promised this by late may, but got real busy.

Warnings - mentions of murder, mentions of blood, regular scream warnings, infidelity, cursing, violent language

Masterlist

Taglist

I leaned myself against my counter as I listened to Stu and Billy go on, and on about killing Casey Becker, my next-door neighbor, and Stu's ex-girlfriend.

"So, what's the plan again?" I ask.

Both boys turn their heads towards me. "We break in and kill'er duh," Stu says, rolling his eyes. He was a complete idiot. I don't even know why I like him sometimes. "We need a plan, dumbass. You're gonna get your ass locked up if we do that," I say with an eye roll. Billy stands up from his spot and walks over to me. He wraps an arm around my waist. "I'm gonna call, mess with her a bit. You're gonna be hiding in the house, and Stu will be outside. Stu will kill Steve, and you try to get her outside for Stu," he explains, pressing a kiss to my cheek. "What're you gonna do?" I ask as I wiggle out of his grip. "I already told you I'm doing the calling. " I roll my eyes, walk over to Stu, and plop myself into his lap. Stu has a grin on his face as he wraps his arms around my waist. Stu was the clingier one out of the two boys, and I didn't hate it.

Stu presses kisses to my neck as I say, "Why do we have to do all the hard work?" Billy rolls his eyes; he's fed up with the two of us already. "I'll do the hard work next time with Sid, alright?" I nod with a smile. I turn towards Stu, press my lips to his, and wrap my arms around his neck. Stu always immediately goes all in, with tongue and everything.

Billy groans. "Can you guys not do that shit?" I roll my eyes as I pull away from Stu. "you can join in Billy" Stu says with a laugh. Billy shakes his head. "gotta date with Sid. I'll see you guys later," Billy says, pressing a kiss to my lips and smacking Stu in the back of the head. Once my front door slams shut, Stu's lips are immediately on mine. I kiss him back, but only for a few seconds before I push him away.

He looks like I had just kicked his puppy. His brows furrowed and his head cocked to the side. "So, when are we doin' this shit?" I ask, arms wrapping around his neck affectionately. "tomorrow" he replies before immediately pressing his lips back to mine.

When Billy and Stu had first proposed the idea of going on a killing spree, I was absolutely against it. Hell, I thought they were fucking crazy and really questioned why I was sneaking around with the two assholes, but when they brought up the fact that they were planning on killing both of their girlfriends, I was in.

I have been secretly seeing Stu since the beginning of the school year. It all began with a drunken kiss, which then led to us sneaking around behind his girlfriend's back. Eventually, I found myself completely in love with him. About 2 months ago, Billy joined us. He caught us together one night at Stu's house, and since then we've formed a very unusual and insane trio.

Most would think I was absolutely insane to go to the lengths of killing the girlfriends of the two men I was sneaking around with, and well so do I. Sometimes I feel like I'm crazy for hating Tatum and Sid, but at the same time, I can justify it. I've fallen so in love with Billy and Stu, that I've just hung onto the idea that I'd have them all to myself once they were gone. By now, I crave the day I get to slaughter both of them bitches. I hate having to go behind everyone's backs. I hate having to pretend I like both of them. I hate that our relations stay in the confines of Billy, Stu, and I's houses while Sid and Tatum get them everywhere.

I pull away panting before saying, "You leaving too?" he chuckles softly, probably hearing the saltiness in my voice. "Nah rather say here with you" I giggle as he presses his lips to mine once again.

Wednesday is excruciating, as always. I almost have a perfect schedule now, be friendly with Tatum and Sid, go to English class, make out with Stu in the back seat of his car during math class, go to Spanish class, make out with Stu under the bleachers in the gym, go to gym class, have lunch outside with Billy Stu, randy, Tatum, and Sid, make out with Stu, leave early with Stu and Billy during 7th period so no one sees us. I'm surprised no one has caught on to our affair, seeing that Stu always wants to make out with someone, and if it's not me (which it usually is), it's Tatum.

Tatum presses herself against the locker next to mine. I can't say I hate Tatum, cause she's a nice girl, and so is Sid. if we were in any other situation, we'd be not only friends but best friends, but I can't like her. I can't bring myself to look at her without envisioning myself killing her in the near future. "Hey," I mutter as I pull my English notebook out of my locker.

"Casey said she saw Stu and Billy at your house... what did you guys do?" I can hear a hint of jealousy in her voice as she says it. I stared at her for a few seconds as I conjured up a lie. "They were hanging out with my brother. I think they might have watched some movies or something. "It wasn't a terrible lie. Billy and Stu did hang out with my brother Austin often. it was just that this specific weekend Austin was out with his girlfriend, so I had to make sure to get to Austin before Tatum did. "Oh..." she nods before turning around and walking off.

When Tatum is out of sight, I immediately bolt toward Austin's locker. Luckily, he's there, sorting through the items inside to find the ones he needs for his first period. "What?" he asks as he turns his towards me, pushing his hair back as he does so. "If Tatum asks, can you say you were hanging out with Billy and Stu this weekend?" his brows furrow before a grin erupts onto his face. "Why?" I roll my eyes, already knowing what he was thinking. "Because I had them over this weekend, and I don't want her knowing they were hanging out with me. "Somehow his smirk grows wider, "Why? Are you still fucking her boyfriend?" I let out a little groan as I rolled my eyes. "Shut up, please Austin?"

He lets out a begrudging sigh before mumbling a quiet "Fine but you owe me" I smile, "Thanks Austin!" I say before walking away. The only reason Austin knows anything about Stu and I is because he had accidentally walked in on Stu and I a few months back. It took two entire weeks of convincing to get Austin to keep our secret.

Stu, Billy, and I sneak off of campus at around 2:30, and we make it to my house at around three. A few weeks ago, I convinced my brother to stay with his girlfriend today, and my parents were out on a business trip, so we had the house to ourselves as we got ready for tonight.

We're up in my room just talking. We weren't going to go into action until at least 9:30, so we had some time to kill. Stu and I were lying on my bed, with his arm wrapped around me, while Billy sat in the swivel chair I had. Stu's head occasionally dipped down into the crevice of my neck to press kisses. "Tatum asked about you being over here yesterday, said Casey told her," I say, as Stu sucks a chunk of my skin into his mouth. He hums against my neck as Billy asks, "What'd you say?"

"Said you were hanging out with Austin," I say, leaning into Stu's body. "Made sure Austin would say the same, too." Stu nods against my skin, muttering "good" against my skin. "So, you got the shit we need to use?" I ask as I push Stu away from me so that the already developing hickey won't get any darker or bigger than it already is. I wasn't there when Billy and Stu killed Sid's mom. I was clueless as to what they were doing. They waited until well after the funeral to ask me to join them. "Yeah, got it in that duffle bag I brought in, got the knives and the costumes," he says as he leans back in the chair.

I sigh, crossing my arms over my chest as I watch Billy spin around in the chair, in an unusual act of childlike behavior. Stu's left-hand travels to my hip as he leans in and presses a kiss to my lips. I roll my eyes as he goes in for another. If I had to choose one of us to say is the absolute horniest, it would be Stu. Stu wasn't only fucking me, but he was also doing Tatum at the same time. It's like all he thought about was having a tight hole for his dick. Unlike Billy, who was only fucking around with me, and not Sid because Sid hasn't felt like it since her mom died. "God, can you guys stay off of each other for one second?" Billy says, rolling his eyes.

Stu and I pull apart, and he grins. "You're just jealous," Stu says with a laugh as he tries pulling me in for another kiss. I oblige, but only press my lips against his for less than a second before pulling away and throwing my legs over the side of my bed, so they dangled off the side. I pushed myself back up to my feet before walking over to Billy, who sat in my swivel chair, making sure to strut over as sexily as I could. I straddle Billy and trail kisses up his neck, starting down towards his collarbone. Once I make it to his ear, I whisper "You coulda just asked we woulda let you join Bill" he tries his best to roll his eyes and mutter "Don't call me that" under his breath but before I know it, he's got both his hands pressed tightly against my cheeks in a bruising grip and his tongue shoved in my mouth.

"Holy shit," Stu whispers, with a light chuckle as Billy and I pull apart. Both of us are panting, and his hands are still pressing tightly against my cheeks. Billy grins as my cheeks heat up. "A-anyway....what are we supposed to do after we....y'know, kill her?" I ask. I'm still hesitant about killing Casey. she didn't do anything to me, we were practically best friends growing up. Casey was just so that everyone in town would be weary. So that we had a better chance of getting everyone we needed at our party. Safety's better in numbers. She was the opening kill, a kill that would make everyone stop and stare. That kill could have been anyone, but Stu decided to sign Casey and her new boyfriend Steve up for it because he was still bitter about how Casey broke up with him.

"I'm goin' to Sid's. so, I can have an alibi you two can do whatever the hell you guys want." if Stu decided to leave too, I'd be the main suspect, there'd be no one to vouch for me because we needed the house empty for us to execute our plan. I swing my legs over and my body around so I'm now facing Stu. "You up to stayin' here tonight, Stu?" I ask, a faux innocent grin on my face. He matches mine with a similar yet less innocent-like grin. "Fuck yeah."

Billy reaches around tapping my thigh before whispering, "Need to go downstairs, get the bag so we can get ready, babe. " I nod as he presses a kiss to my cheek. I get up and trot back over to my bed as Billy exits my room. I sit on my bed, sliding the ring that sat on my middle finger on and off anxiously. I didn't know if I was ready, or if I wanted to take part in the murder of Casey, anyway. I had hyped myself up for Sid and Tatum's, but Casey's? I tried my best to put that one to the side. I awaited Sid's and Tatum's deaths like it was my birthday. I craved the feeling of the knife between my hands as I plunged the knife in and out of their bodies. but Caseys, I awaited it like the first day of school after Christmas break, my hand jittered for the last 3 days as I thought about it and I just wished more days would appear between the day I was on, and the day I was supposed to help kill Casey. I just wanted it to be over.

"You, okay?" Stu asks, scooting towards me. "I Dunno if I'm ready. " His eyes roll as he places his left hand on my thigh, rubbing small circles into the supple skin with his thumb. "you're fucking ready." he says, for the past month or so they've been helping me 'practice'. they showed me the right way to hold the knife and then helped me practice 'stabbing' a pillow. So logically I'd be ready, but I still can't push away the guilty feeling that sat in my chest. I shrug "I Dunno, I-I'm just scared" he laughs loudly, throwing his head back in amusement. I furrow my eyebrows, a pout forming on my lips. His laughter dies down into just a little smirk as he leans in, pressing his lips to mine. "Don't be scared. I'll be with you the whole time," he says, pulling away. He shrugs. "and besides, you're not even killin' her. You just gotta scare her."

Billy bursts into the room, a large black duffle bag in one hand. He takes a seat back in the chair before unzipping it and pulling one large knife. The blade glistens in the light as he turns it, showing it off. My mouth is gaping open, staring at the freshly sharpened blade. All of my anxieties instantly wash away as I take the knife in my hand. "Nice, isn't it?" he smirks as my pointer finger lightly brushes over the sharp tip. suddenly I'm ready, it's like all the worry that was just filling my mind was instantly wiped away, and all I could think about was how nice the knife felt in my hands.

Taglist

@pookie-snookie @heyspl4zi @drilethetoppat @ciuguapa @heraliveken @naito55 @katie-tibo @eve-sick-blog @bitchybasmentcats @1ts-jeany @kitkatdreamsmpmcyt @slowly-becoming-like-draculaura @nitcsky @weaponxgames @vrsin @cupid3clipse @st-rgirl-forlife @confusedriftin @catastrophic-panda @carnagetrickster21 @kaiparkerwife @d0llykill @ceceher @melidodo @yaoi1206 @hellraser1999 @altair10 @loveheart-123 @pearledreader @multifandom0-0 @cursedashes @a-bunny13

#fanfics #x reader #scream x reader #scream #scream 1996 #ghostface x reader #ghostface #stu macher x fem!reader #stu macher x reader #Stu macher #billy loomis x fem!reader #billy loomis x reader #billy loomis #x female!reader #female!reader

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lala-lolly · 1 year

Text

Bloodhounds

Kim Geonwoo x Gn!Reader (anyone can read, no race/color/ethnicity, age, gender or physical appearance specified)

Argument with Kim Geonwoo (Gunwoo) as best friends

We all know Geonwoo is a very nice and respectful man

We all also know Geonwoo is very protective over his loved ones and that includes his friends

What happens when he gets into an argument with one of his best friends?

It all started because you felt that Geonwoo kept blowing you off to spend more time with Woojin

You two were suppose to hang out but he kept saying the same thing every time, "Sorry Y/n, Woojin and I already have plans. Sorry."

Like okay maybe two times is fine but FIVE?!

What was so important about what him and Woojin had planned that he couldn't make time for you?

When you confront Geonwoo about it, he doesn't say anything at first, just makes uncomfortable noises

He may know how to handle himself and stand up for himself and others but you are one of his best friends

After you finish rambling about how he's been making you feel, he finally says something

Geonwoo would feel guilty and apologize for making you feel that way because obviously that wasn't his intention

He wouldn't give you a clear explanation as to why he's been spending so much time with Woojin but he keeps saying that it's safer that way and that it will be over soon

This would make you more frustrated because what does that even mean, right?

You would keep pushing until he told you what he was talking about but all that made him do was snap

Geonwoo has always been known as a calm and collected person even when faced with confrontation so when he started to raise his voice it made you scared

When he seen your face, he realized what he did and immediately started to apologize profusely

You walked away to catch a break and get some air. That break lasted three days

You finally decide to talk to him and he explains everything to you and apologizes again

Woojin also ends up apologizing for stealing him away from you and keeping you in the dark about everything that had been going on

When you all finish making up, they offer you to treat you to some pork belly and kimchi fried rice at Woojin's aunt's restaurant

A/N~ I'm so sorry if this is bad or not what you wanted. Remember this is my first time writing something like this so if you feel I need to or should change something let me know. Hope you enjoyed. Also if you a story version of this where there's more context or in depth then let me know.

Keep dreaming~~💚💙

~ Lala-Lolly 🌆☁️🍭

#lala-lolly asks answered #lala-lolly pennied thoughts #bloodhounds x reader #kim geonwoo #kim gunwoo #kim geonwoo x reader #kim gunwoo x reader #Hong woojin x reader #kdrama #kdrama x reader #x black!fem!reader #x poc!reader #x gn!reader #x male!reader #x female!reader

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hanasnx · 2 years

Note

HOLY SHIT FUCK PISS PLS GIVE ME MORE FRAT BOY ANI I BEG 🧎🙏 I need the spice 😩

once again my greatest weakness is exploited…. my inbox ….

ppl say jump in an inbox message i say how high

bcos quite honestly fratboy!anakin is so hard for me to write, simply bcos its so difficult for what i know of anakin and his character to align with a fratboy persona. however! i married the concepts my last fratboy post and i’ll do it again for u jelly. ive had to brainstorm a couple days…

next part

☥ likes nuts. peanut butter. pistachios. nut and seed bread. u ask and he’s like “i like feeling like a squirrel” and ur not sure if its a joke. probably keto diets. he eats his body weight in good fats and goes to the gym as an obsessive hobby bcos hes got so much energy and nowhere to put it

☥ mario kart is one of his favorite games. he has a nintendo switch solely for mario kart. his friends play in competitions and get super hyped about it, sometimes they play normally but sometimes they make it an entire event. his frat makes a tournament out of it tbfh and winner usually gets some stupid made up prize like “mk-losers of the frat is your slave for a day” or “everytime you enter a room, if a MK-loser member of the frat is present, they must announce you to the room like ur a king” or “you gotta set up the winner with one of your hot exes”

anakin usually wins. and gets pissy when he doesnt. hes so competitive. especially if the people around him make it a big deal that he didnt win, hes all like “whatever its just a stupid game anyway. i changed my vehicle settings this time around”

☥ as an excuse to be close to you he asks you if he can crack your back for you bcos you complained about it hurting and when you stretched trying to get it to pop it wasnt as satisfying as you wanted it to be.

“i can crack your back for you.”

you fall for his trick. “would you? that would be so great thank you,” you fist your hands and cross your wrists over your chest, like usual, expecting him to get behind you and lift you and jostle you like people always did when they cracked your back. instead, he gets to your front with a smile.

“i know a better way.” you look at him quizzically as he takes your wrists and drapes your arms over his shoulders. he stoops, large frame wraps around you and your waist, fists at the base of your spine. you get nervous. “go limp.” you relax as best you can, your cheek against his neck surely heating up with a blush at how youre pulled flush against him.

he knows exactly what hes doing and his cheeky grin is hidden from you. “alright, inhale deep.” you do as he says. “and exhale.” you do. and slowly he lifts you from the ground easily by standing straight, and his fists slide up your spine, squeezing you to him. your heart is pounding, and your spine pops as he moves up. he gets to the top and sets you down, and holds you while the black dots in your vision subside. you realize he’s embracing you so tender and patient and you politely push off of him.

“um. thanks.”

“anytime.”

and he meant that. bcos he gets into the habit of asking you if you want your back cracked, and you get into the habit of saying yes bcos of how good it felt, how good he was at it, and how close the two of you got when he did it.

to the point that when you saw him, he’d pavloved you, and you lift your arms above your head reaching for him, waiting to rest them on his shoulders so he can pick you up and pop your spine. he obliges every time, excited to do it. he loves pressing you against him like that.

☥ hes an engineering major i just know it. very bright, but not the top of his class. he doesnt study really, things just make sense to him. and he also admits to you that he does a lot of things in his free time that requires engineering.

“like skateboard ramps?” you taunt.

“something like that.”

☥ his favorite movie is treasure planet and he wants to watch it every time you two end up hanging out. if you ask what movie he wants to watch, its treasure planet. if you look over at him randomly, you see him mouthing the words. it was his hyperfixation as a kid and heavily influenced him. especially bcos he doesnt have a dad, and hes got a father figure named obi wan in his life that had no business caring for him but did anyway. like that pirate in his favorite movie:)

if youre not sick of it, you dont even bother to ask him what he wants to watch. u just put it on. it usually is background noise anyway for whatever conversation arises bcos this boy cannot focus on one thing at once, and must multitask and get distracted

☥ hes the band “chase atlantic” coded unfortunately

☥ would wanna sleep with u in ur bed all the time even if ur not dating. he wants to take naps with you. he has insomnia, and he noticed that one time when you hung out, he fell asleep with you so easily. now he asks for sleepovers constantly. also bcos it means he can subtly cuddle you.

and when youre closer, and he can flirt with you, and youre comfortable with him. he probably cops a few feels so you smack his hand or move it away for him.

at one point you move his hand onto your chest, indicating you wanted him to grab and massage it for real this time. just like he always teases. and it turns into grinding his dick onto your ass and squeezing your chest til the flesh pops out in between his fingers. circling and pinching your hardening nipples. arm under your head, hand on your jaw to inclined your face in his direction so he can bite and nibble your ear, lick at it while he talks dirty shit in it.

“you’re so hot, can’t believe you’re letting me do this to you… you know half the guys at house would kill for this…

you wanna help me make ‘em really jealous?”

☥ the horny texts and pics this man would send once you two are officially talking or together.

“i think about fucking you all the time.”

“you gonna let me hit after class? cmon i deserve it.”

“baby you gotta show me that pussy. its been so long i forgot what it looks like. remind me.”

“coming over today. you want a ride? on my cock i mean.”

“some guys at the house were talking about you today. can i tell them about us?

gotta see their faces hearing what a slut you are. i promise i’ll spill every dirty detail. could even show em some of the pictures if you want… or the videos. i like the bareback one, doggy style? cant get over the way you sound in that one. wet pussy, pretty moans, twerking on my cock like a porn star. miss you sweet girl.”

☥ he honestly would pick out a hoodie for you to wear. he wants u to wear it. gets pouty when you dont “wheres my hoodie?”

“at my dorm.”

“why arent you wearing it?”

“ani—?”

“its cold outside.” he wants ppl to know youre wearing a guy’s hoodie— specifically his hoodie— for a reason

☥ he’d still call you stupid nicknames like “killer” and “champ”.

“hows it hangin today, killer? you look fucking good.”

“you’re late again champ, usually you get here before me. you avoiding me or something?”

☥ trying to get you to fuck him at his frat house or dorm or whatever bcos he wants the guys to hear you .. just so everybodys clear on whats going on between you two

#jellydodger #thanks for the msg!!#indy shoots the shit #fratboy!anakin #anakin #anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker imagine #x y/n #x f!reader #x fem!reader #x female!reader #au!anakin #star wars #sw #the clone wars #tcw

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wallwriterstuff · 9 months

Text

The Night Before Christmas ||John Price x Wife!Reader||

Warnings: Tooth-rotting fluff, suggestive themes, John Price is his own damn warning. Christmas Eve preparation by parents.

Words: 2601

Taglist: For @glitterypirateduck 's CODHOLIDAY2023 challenge. Inspired by the song "I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Clause" after a lifetime of watching my parents make Christmas magical for me...and annoyingly kissing every time they hear this song at Christmas. Thanks for that Mom and Dad.

Summary: On the night before Christmas, in John Price's house, a strange thumping is heard that is caused by his spouse. Or, when John finds out just how much of the magic in Christmas is created by his wife.

There’s a rumbling of jet engines plaguing his mind in the enveloping heat of a dry dessert. It’s almost suffocating, the way it presses on his chest, but there’s something mildly comforting about the familiarity of it. There’s a lull in the rhythm, a crack in the foundation. Soap’s laughter’s muffled but his smile’s bright, and the way Gaz’s eyes are twinkling makes him wonder what terrible joke Ghost has told now that he’s missed. Has he missed it? It’s difficult to tell here in the heat haze. He’s everywhere and nowhere, halfway between this world and somewhere new, somewhere undefined that his body knows but his mind hasn’t identified. It’s difficult to take a deep breath to try clear his head. He’s weighed down and weightless. He’s here and he’s gone. He’s lost and he’s found here among the family he’s chosen as the Earth shakes.

The boom is as garbled as trying to hear TV through static. The mortar strikes should be roaring, shattering his eardrums as much as the Earth but they’re not. He frowns, looking around. Why is no one running? Panicking? Another dull thud of what must be an enemy missile of some sort drowned out by the rumbling of those jet engines. He looks around in a daze. He can’t bring himself to feel even a twinge of fear. He just knows, instinctually, that there’s no danger here. The ground’s splitting and quaking beneath his feet but the smell of the Earth weeping for mercy through the fissures doesn’t come. Instead, it’s strong and clinical, almost like menthol. He inhales deeply, frown deepening as he gets closer to the crack in the Earth. Yeah…menthol. Another muffled thud and the gap is swallowing him whole, his team and the dessert all swirling away in a vortex of sand that the sandman retracts. He cannot sleep just yet. There’s work to be done.

Inhaling deeply, his nose stings at the strong smell of Vapo-rub. The tub still sits in his left hand while his right lingers on a small, rattling chest. Long lashes brush the apples of rosy red cheeks and his heart aches at the sight of his youngest, curled into his side in an effort to find respite from the flu that’s plagued him all week. Quietly, John clears his throat, lips smacking a bit to moisten his dry mouth. He gives himself a mental shake, removing his hand and carefully shifting himself off of the bed, old injuries aching and creaking as they always do when he’s given a moment of respite. He was barely home all of two days and he’s had the bedtime shift both nights, his children craving his attention now he’s finally, finally home. With a slight grimace, he cleans off the remnants of the foul smelling substance with a tissue from the nightstand, ensures that the nightlights are all turned on and slinks out of the room to let his son sleep.

He should find his own bed, he thinks. He can feel his own exhaustion in the marrow of his bones, a deep-seated kind of tiredness that robs him of more than just energy, but then he hears it again. The dull thud that roused him from his almost sleep is coming from downstairs, and adrenaline shoots through his veins like wildfire. It burns through that tiredness with whispers of ‘once more’, a drive to push through, fight back, obey every instinct hard-wired into his DNA that places survival above all else. He knows he locked the doors. Triple checked them like he does every night he’s home right before he put the kids to bed. Kids. You. Where are you? It’s automatic, no longer training or instinct but something more ingrained even than that, the way he searches room to room. Two fragments of his soul sleep soundly in their beds but you’re nowhere to be seen.

He's greased every hinge and secured every floorboard in this house. John knows exactly where to put his feet and how much weight to place on every individual board as he eases himself into the shadows. He greets every dark crevice like an old friend, one he knows intimately and has a depth of knowledge of that is unrivalled by any intruder in his home. The front door is closed, but the chain is off. His ears strain, that rhythmic clomping of clumsy boots making his brow furrow. Whoever it is is damn noisy, untrained even, perhaps even –

“What the bloody hell are you doin’?” he can’t help but snort, every muscles unwinding and the alarm bells in his mind fading in the face of his amusement. He settles it in his mind then and there. There’s no intruder, my wife’s just lost her marbles.

“Don’t, do that!” you hiss, hand clutched over your chest and foot raised, his boot dangling and far too big, in danger of falling onto the floorboards if you don’t take a step soon. John’s head tilts, a smirk twitching up his lips as he takes in the fake snow on the floor, the boot prints leading from the door into the living room.

“Since when did Santa wear combat boots?” he asks.

You scowl. “Since Mrs Clause had to throw her Doc’s away back in November...that’s why they’re on her Christmas list.”

He barely stifles his laughter, shoulders shaking as he rubs his finger under his nose. He knows better than to laugh at you right now as you continue to clomp towards the Christmas tree. He leans against the door frame, watching you navigate the sofa with keen eyes and folded arms. He can’t quite keep the grin from twitching his lips upwards as he drinks in the sight of you in his too big boots, Christmas pyjamas on and hair tied up, looking determined. There’s a peek of pink at the corner of your lips where your tongue pokes out in concentration as you try to keep your steps evenly spaced. That suffocating warmth is back and he recognises it for what it is now as he simply basks in the love you’ve woven into every inch of the house. It seeps into every grain of wood and is the stain lacquer finish of the laminate, holding the whole home together for him to return to. You’ve done it alone again, everything from presents to decorations and Grotto Visits. He can’t help his schedule but he wishes he’d been in on more of the magic you’ve woven that kept your little angels up until 10PM with unparalleled excitement.

“You could have asked for me to do that bit. Save you near breakin’ your neck in my boots.” He said. You sprinkle the last bit of fake snow down onto the floorboards and take a step, turning to look at him. John chuckles, crossing the room in three quick strides and scooping you up and away to the sofa. You grip him tight, the momentary shock of being airborne fading as you relax into his grip; trusting, always trusting. John won’t let you fall. He never has.

“I came up to, but you were asleep.” You teased. John huffed, kneeling before you and lifting your foot to his knee. His fingers made nimble work of the laces as he glanced up at you.

“Wasn’t,” his denial his half-hearted at best, “Was just restin’ my eyes.” He delicately slides his boot off your foot, setting it aside with much less reverence than he does your leg as he brings the other one up to untie next.

“Sure thing, cowboy.” You grin slyly. John looks up at you from under his brows, his focus half on the triple knot you’ve had to use to keep his work boots from sleeping off your feet. He chuckles a little as he picks it apart.

“Callin’ me a liar?” his query holds no bite to it. He slips the other boot free and lifts your leg, placing a delicate kiss to your calf. He feels the way your muscles tighten in response and he can’t help but smirk a little, does it again just to feel you respond to the touch of his lips on your skin.

“Liar? No. Big foot? Yes. How you walk in those things is beyond me.” You let your leg drop and shuffle forward. John’s left kneeling between your knees, his hands automatically finding purchase on your thighs, calloused thumbs caressing the smooth skin like it’s the safety on his rifle with a knowing, firm touch. A small smile creeps it’s way onto your lips, and John thinks that he could die happy this way, surrounded by you, kneeling at your altar. Hands cupping his cheeks, you gently rub your knuckles over the whiskers of his beard before leaning in to grant him the swiftest, sweetest of kisses.

Your eyes are bright, but there’s a small crease between them he smooths away with his thumb. John Price is nothing if not vigilant, and the only thing he knows better than the parts of his rifle are the planes of your body. Every minute twitch of a muscle and miniscule expression on your face is a well-read verse in the story of you. Your poetry in motion, and he won’t stand for your beauty being creased by worry and doubt.

“Stop worryin’ so much. Kids’ll be ecstatic to see Santa’s broken in.” He says.

“Broken in? John!”

“What? We don’t have a chimney so only logical explanation is that he’s shimmied the lock.” He grins up at you, letting you pull him to his feet with the most aghast expression on your face he thinks he’s ever seen. He swallows down his laughter because gods, you’re adorable and instead chooses to transfer his grip from your hands to your waist. “Joking, love, joking.” He assures you, stepping into your space and tilting your head up with his thumb and index finger. John doesn’t need to hear your forgiveness. He feels it in the way you let him chastely chase your lips until you push him back.

“We still have work to do cowboy.” You pat his chest and John huffs a bit, looking around the room. For the life of him he can’t fathom what else you could do to the place. Your shared house is cosy, decorated, loved. Fill it with anything else and he’s sure it’ll burst at the seams.

“Love, what could you possibly still have to do?” he looks down at you. You’ve got eyes like Christmas lights and are awash with the colours of them glittering on the tree, painted in stained glass colour like some Saint he knows he’s blessed to worship. The smell of fresh baked cookies and vanilla frosting is etched into your skin from your baking escapades with the kids today, soft and warm and inviting him to take a bite out of you.

“Presents. Had to hide them in the attic from certain sticky fingers. Can you get them down?” you ask.

John nods. “Alright. Anymore to be wrapped?”

“Ye of little faith. They’ve been wrapped since mid-November.” You scoff, crossing to the cookie plate and placing one in your mouth. As it melts on your tongue you hum in delight, and John frowns.

“Save one for me?”

“Sorry, Santa’s sent me for cookie quality control. Missed your chance.” There’s mirth shimmering in your eyes and cookie crumbs resting at the corner of your lips. John shakes his head as he slinks back upstairs, checking in habitually on his still sleeping angels before he pulls down the ladder to the attic. He’s got to admit he’s impressed at your tenacity. The bags are stuffed full. You’ve spoiled the little ones rotten. How you’ve done so much shopping and wrapping is beyond him, and he can’t quite figure out how you’ve managed to hide two very full bags in the attic on your own with two small children hanging off you while he was away. The Santa hat sitting nearby gives him pause. John knows he’s been a bit of a Grinch in the two days he’s been home. Something about coming home to a poorly babe and an overly prepared wife left little room for him to really get into the swing of the Christmas spirit. He endeavours to make a change.

Present bags retrieved, he slips back downstairs and pauses only to pluck a small sprig of mistletoe from the wreath at your front door. He triple checks he’s locked and chained the door once more. Force of habit. With your present bags resting in front of the tree he tugs on the Santa hat and waits patiently for you to return. There’s cookies missing and carrots with chunks eaten out of them in your efforts to make the children believe Santa really did come to see them, but he knows you can’t stand milk. He smiles slightly, knowing full well you’ll be pouring the milk back into the carton right about now.

When you return with the empty glass, you pause at the sight of him. John gives you a grin, lifting the sprig of mistletoe over his head.

“Someone’s on the nice list this year, deserved a special visit from the big man himself.” He offers you his free hand and you snicker slightly, eyes adoring and hand slipping into his. You let him pull you closer, and nothing feels better than his arm sliding around your waist. Now he’s really home. John leans in, eyes closing, and to his surprise there’s a strong smell of vanilla as you smear Christmas cookie onto his waiting lips with a giggle.

John blinks his eyes open in surprise, huffing a surprised laugh through his nose before he leans down and catches your mouth with his. He gives you no time to escape him or to clean off his mouth. It’s messy and it makes you squirm in his grip, but neither of you complain as you kiss and lick frosting away between you. His grip on you tightens, safe, inviting, hands sliding over the curves of you just to reassure himself your still here, still his. The best damn gift he ever did receive.

When you pull back for air, John’s thumb swipes away the last little bit of frosting with a chuckle.

“Where did your mistletoe go?” you tilt your head at him and he unfurls his palm to show you. You take it from him with a hum, mischief dancing in your eyes.

“And just what are you planning on doing with that then?” He queries. Your eyebrows lift a bit.

“Think I know a better place for it.” You shrug. He feels your hands tugging at his belt, his eyes never leaving yours for a moment even as a smile twitches up his lips.

“I thought we only opened presents on Christmas morning?” he glances down to see the mistletoe hanging from his belt buckle. You giggle a bit, reaching into the bag just behind the sofa that has all your wrapping bits and pieces in . You place a sticky bow on your head and wiggle your eyebrows at him.

“I thought you were an advocate for bending the rules on occasion?” You teased, hips swaying as you slowly walk backwards towards the stairs. John chuckles, taking three quick strides towards you before he hoists you up and onto his hips. You don’t squeal. You know he won’t let you fall.

“Quick, before the kids catch Mommy kissing Santa Clause.”

“Underneath the mistletoe?”

“I believe that’s how the song goes.”

#glittery pirate duck #codholiday2023 #captain john price #x female!reader #cod modern warfare #cod x reader #captain john price x reader #john price x female reader #christmas fic

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chaosandmarigolds · 5 months

Text

newbornDad! Simon Riley

Simon! Who insists on carrying the baby carrier through the threshold of the house when you get home from the hospital

Simon! who spent nine months training Riley to be gentle with the baby

Simon! Who carries the baby around showing them the house with little whispers, 'annnn this is your brothers room, he's had your grandads right now but don't worry sweetpea, you'll meet him soon'

Simon! Who strongly believes the baby needs skin to skin, so...are you complaining about him walking around shirtless with a baby held to chest, not at all

Simon! Who is so worried when Ollie holds the baby for the first time because yeah Ollie is six years old at that point but anxiety??

Simon! Who hates that he has to go on a mission, even if for two weeks because they are sooo so vital and he doesn't want to leave you alone and-

Simon! Who tells Oliver to take care of his little sibling and to look after you

Simon! Who hates his job sometimes

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k0juki · 4 months

Note

Hiii, I'm LOVING how you write Joost! Would you mind writing an

Jealous

Joost?, like, he's this chill, funny dude 99.99999% percent of the time but maybe, on a bad day perhaps? He gets jealous of a guy, maybe friend from work who got *too* close, or a friend of yours whom you've been spending too much time with him?

In my personal opinion, joost would be the type of clingy jealous, who would want cuddles and reassurance.

Feel free to ignore this if you want!!!

🍨

😲 A/n: I skipped a lot of other's requests just because of this one. I LOVE jelous prompts.

Jealous

Joost Klein x fem!reader

English is not my first language, so feel free to point out any mistakes or errors!

Wc: 411

---

Joost leaned back in his chair, a smirk playing on his lips as he cracked another joke, effortlessly charming everyone around him. He was the epitome of chill, always the life of the party. But today, something felt off. And it was because of that guy.

He watched you chat carelessly with Mark from work, his easy smile faltered just a fraction. Mark was a nice guy, sure, but lately, he seemed to be encroaching on Joost's territory. Maybe it was the way Mark's laughter mingled with yours a little too easily, or how he seemed to always find a reason to linger around you.

Joost tried to shake off the feeling, reminding himself that you were just friends with Mark. But as the evening wore on, his jokes became a bit more forced, his laughter a touch more strained.

And when Mark suggested grabbing drinks after work tomorrow, Joost's grip on his beer tightened just a little too much, his smile now tinged with a hint of jealousy. That was his last straw.

"Drinks with Mark, huh? Sounds like a blast." Joost said, his tone a mix of sarcasm and bitterness. He tried to mask his jealousy with humor, but the tension in the air was palpable.

You glanced at Joost, eyebrows raised in surprise at his sudden change in demeanor. He caught your gaze and quickly plastered on a fake smile, but the unease lingered.

"What is that? Are you jealous?" You asked because you never had the opportunity to see Joost jealous. Never.

"Me? Jealous? Hahah...no." He muttered the last part. Of course you knew he was jealous, everyone could see it on him.

"Yeah, sure, so you won't mind it then, right?" That was a trap and he knew it, but he also didn't want you, his girlfriend, to go somewhere with this guy named Mark.

"Yeah, I would have mind. Don't go near him." Joost said and sat extremely close to you. He put his arms around you and started giving you light kisses. Showing everyone that you're his. Not Mark's, but His.

"I won't." You laughed, "I was just teasing you." You pointed out as his kisses were tickling you.

"I know, but don't do that." Joost answered and threw an angry face to Mark. And let's just say that Mark didn't brothered you for the rest of the night, and if he did, Joost was here to remind him who was in charge.

---

Don't copy or translate my work! Also the picture is not mine! Credit goes to owner!

#🍨#anon🍨#joost klein x fem!reader #joost klein x reader #joost klein #stand with joost #justice for joost #joostice #x reader #k0juki's stuff 🩷#x female!reader #jealousy #imagine #blurb #fluff

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vampdes · 1 year

Text

( cw. quick drabble, makeout sesh. könig & reader. grinding / dry humping. + google translate german used. )

“mmh! schatz, wai—”, könig and you had a mission no less than four hours from now. both of you knew that, if the two of you were caught by price, again, only god knows how he’d reprimand the two of you this time. [t. sweetheart.]

but könig’s lips were so distracting. they were full, his upper lip being a soft pink and his lower lip being rose pink, with a scar on the left side. if he didn’t want makeout sessions all the time, why would he put on a show just for you?

“jus’—fuck, hands on my hips, babe.” you said between kisses, placing his gloved hands on your hips before going back to gripping his hair and grinding against his cargo pants.

“too—engel, engel–gott, ich werde— zu viel!” he cried, squeezing his legs shut after you had pulled his swollen lips away from yours. [t. angel, angel–god, i’m gonna—too much!]

you grinned, wiping away the stray tears from his tear-stained cheeks, “we have . . a little longer, yeah?”.

“liebe, trainin’—hah, ah!”. you pressed your hand against his mouth, you motioned for him to be quiet as you unbuckled his belt. könig bit his lower lip, nodding slightly as he watched you place his belt on top of the duffel bag. “we—training, though, the mi–oh, god–the mission!” you situated yourself on top of his lap before tilting your head. [t. love.]

“we have time. three hours and some minutes, [we] won’t be late like last time, swear.” you mumbled, pressing kisses against his jaw whilst slowly grinding against the crotch of his black briefs. könig nodded slowly, his mind becoming clouded by his urges, “we—yeah, yeah,” he mumbled, agreeing, his hands going underneath your shirt and situating on your waist.

you pressed soft kisses against his adam’s apple to which he tipped his head back with a soft groan. “yes—we definitely . . hah, we definitely have more time.” könig whispered, licking his lips before smiling and gently pressing his lips against yours.

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vroomvroomcircuit · 8 months

Text

Sometimes you need to be loud before it can be quiet

Summary: Everyone has their breaking point, even prefectly fine media trained drivers. Especially when people start asking dumb, sexist questions.

Pairing: driver!reader x f1!grid, but mostly Daniel Ricciardo and Max Verstappen, Lando and Charles have a bit of a guest appearing

Wordcount: 1.2k (she is a shy shorty, please be nice to her)

🏎Masterlist🏎 _________________________

“My next question is for (Y/N): What do you want to be perceived as?”

Everyone in the post race press conference halts in their movements. (Y/N) blinks once, twice before she clears her throat and gets closer to her microphone. “I’m sorry, can you please elaborate on that? I fear my English is failing me to comprehend what you just said.”

The reporter is not hesitating, jumping into his explanation right away, as if he had chosen the words he wanted to say beforehand. “Well, you participate in a male dominated sport, being currently the only female on the grid line up. You are never seen in typically female clothing. You even wore a suit to the last FIA gala. We have yet to see you in makeup outside of festivities. That’s why I am asking what you want to be perceived as. A man? A woman? Or something in-between?”

Silence has never been so loud. Nobody really knows how to respond to such an audacity.

(Y/N) pulls her microphone another bit closer before murmuring into it: “I rather be not perceived at all. Thank you for the question, I wanted to clear that bit up for quite some time now.”

Her answer brought a booming laughter out of the one and only Daniel Ricciardo, effectively breaking that spell of awkwardness that has been cast over the room by Mr Audacity. Everyone relaxes and joins in the laughter.

As the media representative is about to call onto the next journalist, Max asks a question. “Can we all answer this? Because I want to make it clear, I identify as a problem and want to be perceived as that.”

“Yeah”, Daniel interjects,”of course you do. I want to be perceived as a menace to human kind, please. What about you, Lando?”

“Number 1 Fish Hater, certified and trademarked already,” he answers with a cheeky smile.

Charles breathes “I’m a hot mess” into his microphone before the media representative is able to call onto the next person.

The following race weekend the drivers stand in the media pits with their PR managers, hopping from interviewer to interviewer like at a speed dating event.

“-overall I would say we have a good pace. I’m confident in the team to help us through this race in spite of the unpredictable weather conditions this weekend.” (Y/N)’s answers the usual questions that are thrown at her after sessions.

The journalist smiles at her. “I am sure of that. Now, onto my last question: Last week you have been asked what you want to be perceived as and you never really answered that. Why is that?”

(Y/N) throws a not amused look towards the woman. “I didn’t feel like it. I didn’t want to answer a question that is just a poorly disguised attack towards my femininity. I can like fast cars and dress however I want without having to answer something like that. I’m secure enough in my own gender identity as a woman to be able to express myself in all the ways I want without having my actions impede on my identity or expression of my gender. I will put on a dress when I feel like it, I will get the brushes out for a glam makeup when it is convenient for me and I don’t have to do ‘typically female’ things just to please the public opinion.

Instead of going around and judging, just work on why you have this urge to comment on my expression of gender in the first place, because your insecurities surrounding my gender don’t look cute on you.”

After that (Y/N) is practically dragged away from the media pit by her PR manager, who probably already has a headache thinking about the mess that will follow on social media and certain online magazines.

But the few drivers who stood around them, having media duties to follow themselves, just stared impressed and with deep respect after the young woman. She usually is softer spoken and obviously went through bootcamp media training. This was the first time they witnessed speaking her true mind in an interview.

Back in her driver's room, where she gets ready for the debrief, (Y/N) realizes the kind of mistake she just made.

Her little outburst will definitely get more of a reaction than it would if a Max Verstappen would have said something along these lines.

Before her inner eye she sees the headlines. Something about women being too emotional for motorsports. Her being too young, too hot headed, too much of everything and somehow not enough of everything.

The team will replace her, the negative PR not leaving them any other choice. The pressure on them is too much, they already took a big chance on her by giving the driver a seat in Formula 1 in the first place.

With the news of her sudden contract ending, at least one news outlet will write “The little experiment failed”, paving an even more difficult path for other women trying to prove themselves in motorsports.

And all that just because she wasn’t able to let this stupid question roll right off her back.

A sudden knock on her door breaks (Y/N) free from her downward spiral of thoughts. Max enters the room with Daniel on his tail. “This was amazing. How you told this interviewer off on life camera? And her face? After you went out, we just had to clap. It was so cool. You were so right, too. I’m so proud you finally spoke your mind. The audacity of these people.”

It seems like Max doesn’t need to breathe, judging from his rant.

Daniel has a much softer approach. He puts a hand on her shoulder, making her look up at him. “I hope you know that you had to say that back there. Even if you are ‘only’ a rookie this season, the questions you got the last couple of weeks were anything but ok or nice. Sometimes you need to be loud before it can be quiet.”

(Y/N) shoots him a thankful smile, squeezing the hand on her shoulder with her own. “You are right. It was just a bit overwhelming at first. But I can see the appeal now. I think I have to take a few classes with Max, because the concept of saying what you think got a new fan and that’s me. It’s the best thing I have done in the context of handling media duties.”

“No, you won’t do that”, (Y/N)’s PR manager stands in the doorway, probably to fetch her for the debrief. “In this case it was a good thing to do. Important, too, of course. The fans are eating this up on social media. They already made edits with the clips. But I don’t get paid what Max’ or Lando’s managers get, so you will return to your media trained good girl roots.” With that (Y/N) gets pulled out of the room by her. Max throws her a subtle nod, to which she smiles.

Sometimes you need to be more than the good girl, especially if it’s for your own sake. Who knows, maybe this is the beginning of the story of another media-nightmare-driver.

#you can see exactly where I started to scramble for plot haha #f1 x reader #f1 x driver!reader #f1 x female!reader #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x driver!reader #daniel riccardo x reader #daniel riccardo x driver reader #x driver!reader #x female!reader #x reader #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine

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panandinpain0 · 1 year

Note

Can Hermione x fem!reader (or any you’re comfortable with) exist where the reader’s a slytherin but actively a good person-

like she’s a pureblooded snake but like, the cute ones with big eyes and that smile at you

like she’s a super competitive quidditch captain, and has slytherin friends, but she also shows the nervous ravenclaw first years around and has study groups with her hufflepuff friends and eats at the gryffindor table sometimes??

ok bye I just think it could be cute

Study Group

OH MY GOD YES- YES OH MY GOD YES

My favorite kind of character to write for deadass.

@@@

Requested by: Anon

Hermione Granger x Fem!Slytherin!Reader

Literally Reader ^^^

---

“Slytherin wins!” the announcer shouts over the sounds coming from the stands on the quidditch field. A mixture of "boo"'s and cheering were heard, a conflict seemingly starting out in the Gryffindor stands.

(Y/N), a chaser and Slytherins quidditch team captain, flew over to her seeker, holding up the arm that held the snitch and cheering with everyone. Patting the seeker’s shoulder, (Y/N) smiled and congratulated him.

The team flew back to the ground, heading to the showers before being intercepted by the crowd.

“You fly better than Angelina!” Fred shouted, his arm going over the captain’s shoulder.

“Don’t let her hear you saying that,” George warned, arm going around (Y/N)’s other shoulder.

The Weasleys were a family friend of the (L/N)’s so they'd grown up together like siblings. When they started at Hogwarts and (Y/N) was sorted into Slytherin instead of Gryffindor they were disappointed, but got over it pretty soon after. Well, it took Ron a bit longer, but he got there. To make up for it, (Y/N) would sit at the Gryffindor table at dinner sometimes.

(Y/N) rolled her eyes and ducked out of their hold, wiping the sweat from her brow.

“Thanks boys, we worked hard,” (Y/N) replied, patting George’s arm before going to walk away again.

She was startled when Ron was suddenly in her face, Harry and Hermione behind him.

“Bloody Hell, (Y/N)!” Ron shouted, grabbing her upper arms and shaking her around. “That catch, and the pass- and when you-!” He continued to stutter out incoherent praises.

“You did great out there,” Hermione congratulated for him as Harry tried to calm him down.

(Y/N) replied with a laugh, “Thanks Hermione. I’m really proud of my team, they really gave it their all. You should’ve seen how hard I’ve been working them, I’m surprised they don’t hate me.” She smiled jokingly at Hermione.

“No one could hate you,” Hermione responded seriously to the joke. (Y/N) seemed to soften at that, her exhaustion beginning to show.

“Thanks, ‘Mione.” She patted her shoulder.

(Y/N) would have hugged her but she didn’t want to get Hermione dirty.

“Mind helping me escape?” (Y/N) laughed, gesturing to the crowd surrounding them. Hermione laughed and nodded, grabbing (Y/N)’s hand and pulling her away.

When they got to the Quidditch showers, Hermione let go.

“Do you think we’re safe now?” (Y/N) whispered conspiratorially, a laugh lilting the end of her sentence. She tried to stop herself from reaching out for Hermione’s hand.

“I think we are,” Hermione laughed back. The Gryffindor herself was missing the warmth.

There’d always been tension between them. When they’d first met Hermione was intimidated by (Y/N), seeing as she was in the year above her, and also a Slytherin. Hermione never had much luck with Slytherins.

Not to mention she was gorgeous, and it’s terrifying talking to beautiful people. (Y/N) had always sensed Hermione’s discomfort and was always trying to make ‘Mione feel comfortable. They’d grown closer over these past 5 years, but the tension was different than before.

“Well, I’d better shower before dinner,” (Y/N) lazily pointed behind herself to the door.

“Want me to save you a spot at the Gryffindor table? You know Wood will want to talk to you about Ravenclaw’s defeat.” Hermione really wanted her to say yes. They hardly spent enough time together as it is, and even if she doesn’t have a chance with (Y/N) she still enjoys her company.

“For sure, Granger. Make sure it’s next to you, yeah?” (Y/N) winked with a mischievous smirk. (Y/N) would often playfully flirt with Hermione to see her reaction, heat spreading up her neck and around her face.

And that’s exactly the reaction she got, Hermione’s gaze shy as she looked to her feet. She nodded and bit her lip, watching (Y/N) walk through the doorway.

At Dinner…

All of the Gryffindor’s were shouting over each other, the twins practically on the table as they argued with Oliver, their own captain. They’d already talked about the game, Wood practically interrogating the game plans they used from (Y/N). Now he was red in the face, scoffing at the twins.

(Y/N) and Hermione were on the sidelines, having a conversation about her study group. Ron and Harry would pop in every once in a while, but were also having a conversation about what Draco was up to this week.

“Lila, she’s from Hufflepuff- a third year- was having some trouble with Care of Magical Creatures. Something about nifflers? I don’t know, that girl is so quiet I have to have Becca translate for me.” (Y/N) shook her head sympathetically.

“Poor thing,” Hermione agreed, putting down her cup after having a sip. “Maybe I could come to the next one? It could be nice to have another person to help.”

“Sure, we’re meeting tomorrow in the library after lunch. Have you got a free period then?” (Y/N) asked, taking a bite of the food in front of her. Hermione hummed in confirmation, not trusting her voice.

She was so excited. Maybe she could start going to all of their study groups! She smiled to herself as she continued eating.

The Next Day…

Lunch was ending and Hermione stood up excitedly, practically buzzing.

“Someone’s excited,” Harry teased in a sing-song voice.

“It’s because she’s off to see her girlfriend~!” Fred and George replied.

“Oh, ‘Mione’s got a girlfriend now? Looks like I’ve got competition,” (Y/N) announced her presence, smiling at Hermione. She blushed at the quip and smiled back.

“Ignore them, they’re idiots.” Hermione shot the boys a glare.

“Trust me, I know. Shall we?” (Y/N) held up her arm, beckoning Hermione to wrap her arm around hers. Once she did they were off, leaving the boys behind.

When they got out into the corridor (Y/N) didn’t pull away like Hermione expected. They made small talk, (Y/N) waving to her friends when they passed. Hermione slowly trailed off her sentence when (Y/N) stopped walking.

“What’s wrong?” Hermione asked, looking around herself to assure they weren’t at their destination yet.

“Look.” (Y/N) pointed at a Ravenclaw, seemingly a first year. He was crying, sitting against the wall and shielding his face as his body shook. (Y/N) unhooked her arm from Hermione's and walked up to him, crouching down to his level.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” (Y/N) asked gently, but still frightened the first year. He flinched, uncovering his face to look at (Y/N). He seemed confused after he saw the color of her robes. Why would a Slytherin be nice to him?

He sniffled, “My classroom changed places and I can’t find it. I just got its new location memorized and then it moves! I’m gonna be late for Transfiguration and lose house points again.” He groaned in frustration, hands covering his face. (Y/N) gently took his hands and held them, giving him a comforting smile.

“Professor McGonagall can be very forgiving, as long as you tell her what happened. I’m (Y/N) (L/N), what's your name?”

“Conner,” he muttered through his tears. “Conner Wimble.”

“Well, Conner, I’ll walk you to Transfiguration. And teach you some tricks to find your classes. Is that okay?”

“Yes… thank you.”

Hermione shook herself from her thoughts, seeing (Y/N) being so kind to the first year did nothing to stifle her feelings. She rushed forward to join the conversation, crouching down as well.

“I know a spell that makes a string appear in the air that guides you to your classes. I could teach it to you,” she spoke gently to the Ravenclaw, bringing him to stand.

“Please, I need all the help I can get,” he sniffled out.

“Come on, let’s stand up now.” (Y/N), who still held his hands, pulled him to stand.

At the Library…

(Y/N) held open the door for Hermione, entering after her. She waved to Madam Pince before gently cupping Hermione’s elbow, guiding her to the study group.

“Look who decided to show up,” Becca giggled, a yellow ribbon holding her dark brown hair back.

“Yeah, sorry guys- got a bit distracted.” Her hand found the small of Hermione’s back. “This is Hermione-!” (Y/N) whispered before she was cut off.

“Everybody knows who she is. Harry Potter’s friend, right?” Suzie, a fourth year Ravenclaw, asked rhetorically. Her tone was a bit harsh, distaste following Harry’s name.

“Yes, but she has a name. Hermione will be joining us today, if that’s alright with everyone?” (Y/N) eyed Suzie with a warning gaze. After she got head nods from around the table she pulled out Hermione’s chair for her. Hermione blushed and gave (Y/N) a shy smile in thanks, earning a nod in return.

“So, how is everybody? Lila, how was Care of Magical Creatures today?” (Y/N) paid specific attention to the Hufflepuff as she pulled out her books. Lila murmured something nobody could hear, except for her best friend who sat right next to her.

“She said the niffler problem’s still got her stumped,” Becca repeated, going back to doodling on the corner of her parchment with her quill.

“We would have heard her if she would only speak up,” Suzie sassed as she rolled her eyes, playing with the end of her blond ponytail.

“Suzie!” (Y/N) scolded, looking concerned more than angry. “Please apologize.” She adopted a motherly look, eyebrows raised expectantly.

Suzie looked slightly ashamed, gaze lowering as she uncrossed her arms. She played with the edge of her blue sweater, the silver eagle on the sleeve catching the light. “Sorry Lila, that was mean.”

“It’s okay. You have a point,” Lila spoke a bit louder this time, giving Suzie a small smile.

“What’s going on?” (Y/N) gently asked Suzie, running a hand up and down her arm. Hermione watched with a bit of envy, but shook herself out of it when she realized her thoughts.

Suzie’s lip started trembling, her eyes blinking quickly to rid herself of the gathering tears. “David and I got into a fight. He’s been using one of the secrets I trusted him with against me in our arguments. It’s been going on all day.” She sniffled, sliding a bit of her sweater over her hand to wipe at her nose.

Lila, who was closest to her, put her hand on Suzie’s shoulder, rubbing it gently. Everyone sympathized and started helping her come up with solutions, and afterwards the studying quickly commenced.

One Hour Later…

Becca giggled at a joke (Y/N) whispered to her as they left the library, Lila smiling a bit. Hermione and Suzie were finishing a conversation while actively shoving books into their bags, trying to avoid the door swinging into them. Hermione almost got hit but (Y/N)’s hand stopped it, both of them looking surprised.

“Watch out there love, almost got hit.”

Hermione blushed at the pet name.

Suzie looked between the two of them for a second, sitting in their tension-filled silence.

Clearing her throat loudly, Suzie caught the girls’ attention, “I’m going to go talk to David now, I’ll see you two later?” Without waiting for an answer she walked off, waving behind her. She shouted goodbye to the two Hufflepuff’s and was gone.

“We’d best be off too. (Y/N), would you be a dear and ask Fred and George for more sugar quills? Lila and I have been craving them,” Becca laughed, joining hands with Lila.

“For sure! I’ll let you know what they say. Same time next week?” They nodded. “Make sure Suzie knows that too, please.” And they were off.

Hermione and (Y/N) looked at each other, still standing in front of the library. Taking in a breath, (Y/N) broke the silence.

“Would you like to come again next week? Suzie seemed to like having you around,” (Y/N) laughed a bit, smiling at the Gryffindor in front of her.

“Yes, I’m sure it was just Suzie,” Hermione giggled and nodded, not able to look away from (Y/N). Said Slytherin scoffed in surprise at the comment, her face heating up as she laughed in amusement.

“I’m glad we’re in agreement on that then.”

They smiled at each other for a bit longer, not wanting to part.

“Well, I think this makes you an official part of our group. What do you say?” (Y/N) stuck out her hand. “Want to join our study group?”

Hermione met her half way, shaking her hand.

“Well, we wouldn’t want to disappoint Suzie, now would we?”

End

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Ta-da! Sorry it took so long, Anon! But I'm pretty proud of this final product. (I actually think it sucks a lot but maybe you'll like it. I hope you do.)

-Author Max <3

#fanfiction #x reader #fluff #fandoms #harry potter #x she/her reader #x female reader #x female!reader #x fem!reader #x fem reader #hermione granger #hermione x reader #hermione x fem!reader

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