floraltypes

[floraltypes]

hi i’m alive :0 what should i write abt

[floraltypes]

hello angel !! are you still taking requests? you know how jim was going crazy bcs charles didnt like him? i was thinking abt op being quite new in the office and getting close to everyone there but jim so he thinks she just doesnt like him and tries to impress her anyway yk,, turns out she was just rlly rlly shy around him bcs PLS have you seen him the man of her dreams!! or anything really i just love some slowburn with little kisses in the end 🥰

thank you so much for the request lovely! i really hope you enjoy what i’ve written up and feel free to request more.

you can find it here

[floraltypes]

A People Pleaser

pairing - jim halpert x reader

summary - jim is known to be likable, so the one person he really has grown to enjoy seemingly not liking him is very frustrating

request - 900 event!

Despite sitting right beside him your eyes seem to always look past his. It had been almost a complete month since the newest co-worker of Dunder Mifflin, you, arrived and you still won’t look at him. It is (not so) secretly getting to him. 

It was clear from the moment you arrived that you made the dull office seem brighter, smile and sweet beauty, you chatted up everyone. Sure, you were more quiet but you still tried to come out of your shell.

He admired that aspect about you, the way you’d bashfully let Dwight wander on and on about some stupid beet rant and kindly explain something to the vibrant Kelly who would rather chat your ear off about royalty drama. Somehow, in one way or another, you had done something kind for everyone in the office, even Jim, yet he was still spiraling. 

You would quietly bring him coffee after getting some for yourself, yet never said anything more than placing it on his desk and returning back to your work.

“I don’t get it,” he sighed, legs crossed and furrowed brows while staring at the camera. “Did I give her a mean look the first day? Accidentally take a potential client? She just refuses to talk to me!” he waved his hands around, clearly stressed. 

“Have you tried being nice?” one of the people behind the camera asked. 

“I mean, yeah!” 

“Oh my,” you agitatedly whispered underneath your breath, hand rubbing the bridge of your nose while peering at the never-ending circle of death. The bright colors were now spinning for ten minutes, and you had tried everything. 

“You alright?” Jim looked up from his work to see your mouth downturned and face sour. 

“It’s fine,” you shake your head, typing something into the keyboard while waving the mouse around the screen. “The website might just be down.”

“Mine works fine.”

“Thanks,” you grimaced, your voice clearly showing how annoyed you were at the moment. At your reaction, Jim flushed a bit, fearful that he was giving you another thing to hate about him. Therefore, in order to make sure that wouldn’t happen, he made it a mission to help you. 

He stood up from his desk, walking the few steps to your own where he leaned over the side of you, now scanning his eyes through the computer screen in hopes of seeing something you had not. 

You could feel his breath on the open skin of your neck, he was so close, his hand gripping one edge of the desk, near where your own arm lay with hand on top of the mouse. Inside your stomach was experiencing that familiar stirring feeling when you encompassed Jim Halpert.

“I don’t hate Jim,” you quietly answered the question, sitting uncomfortably in front of the camera. “Why would you think that?”

“Did you try doing that command exit?” he questioned, looking down at you, a few wisps of hair falling across his forehead. You couldn’t help but stare at the new look, the way his eyes always seemed so soft when they looked at you. But, then again, he was just such a nice guy that it probably was like that with everyone. 

“Didn’t work,” you hum, forcing yourself to face away and keep your sights on the computer screen. This action now gave Jim a similar opportunity to look over your features. The way you nervously bit at your lip and the creases from your current stress were evident near your eyebrows. Something fluttered within him, and how he wished to just gently smooth them before placing a sof- “I’ve tried everything.”

“Well there is one way, if you head to the search bar,” pushing his thoughts aside he moved his hand up a bit to reach for the mouse. In return he accidentally grabbed the top of your hand. “Oh,”

“It’s fine!” you accidentally yelled, looking around at the stares from disrupting fellow co-workers you quieted down, and tried to leave your seat. “I’ll just go talk to IT, call them, or something. You don’t have to worry about it.”

He hesitated before removing his hand from your own, and like an ignored puppy, he relocated back to his desk, sending a defeated look towards the camera, trying to signal them to look away.

All that was swirling through his mind is that - somehow - he gave you another reason to despise him. All that was swirling through your mind was that your crush on the naturally kind man was escalating fast, and you didn’t want to make a fool of yourself. 

This was merely one example of Jim’s attempt at showing an extra kindness to you, a chance for you to grow a liking to the genuinely sweet man (even though you already had, he just wasn’t informed on that information). Later on in the week he was determined to do a coffee drop off as you had done for him many times. 

It was the later hours of the night, Michaels lack of organization leading to two sales people having to stay later and fix his mistake. After too many rounds of rock paper scissors, it was concluded that you and Jim were the (un)lucky winners. 

“I’ve almost finished with the first pile,” he perked up at the sound of your voice, soft humming exiting your lips after the small comment. “I should be able to finish up the next one rather quickly.” 

“Same here,” he hummed, tapping his pen on his desk. “Weird without everyone.”

“Mhm,” you nodded in agreement, scribbling away with no mind to his words. 

“I’ll be back,” exiting his area he made his way to the darkened kitchen area. Luckily there was a pot left, pouring a bit into two cups - your specifically designed one and his striped one - he plopped them in the microwave to heat up. 

“Hey, does it look like the name-” you suddenly stopped your question upon noticing that your co-worker had disappeared. With much interest and confusion, you now followed the beaming light to where he stood blowing your coffee a bit. “Jim?”

“Ah!” he hastily put the cup down. 

“What are you doing?”

“Providing you a good cup of joe,” he hesitantly smiled, lifting up the green mug. “I warmed them up too long, don’t want your tongue to burn off or something.” 

You couldn’t help but laugh at his comment, giggles erupting which made him just want to join in. “You’re so kind,” you mumbled, taking the cup and bringing it to your lips. 

Jim was stunned, stuck in place, his eyes wide and ears (almost seemed) to perk up at such a compliment. “You think I’m nice?”

“You’re the nicest person in the office, probably.”

“Wait, you don’t hate me?”

“Why do people think that?” you shook your head. 

“It’s just, well, you act so differently. I try extra hard to be nice, I don’t know if when you first started working here I somehow did something to … tick you off?”

“Oh,” was all you could muster up at the moment, nerves once again kicking in at the way his body heat seemed to be radiating and a soft glow was in his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize, it’s just, I actually just want to get to know you more.” 

“Jim, you’re kind, but you don’t need to do anything extra for me. I’ve noticed your politeness and all of these acts, it makes me overthink things,” with a sigh you let him know the truth, shoulders slumped due to the confession. “It’s not your fault, it’s mine, I just don’t want to take things out of context.”

“You think I learned the way you take your coffee just to be friendly?” you nodded at his question. “Even the way I always drop off a specific candy bar if you’re having a bad day, or e-mail a funny message about animals because that always seems to make you smile? Have I ever done any of that for Dwight, Angela, even Stanley?”

There is silence roommate, and for once you ponder to yourself that you may not be overthinking everything after all. Jim places his hand on your shoulder, thumb rubbing over the fabric. “It’s not as if I like them in the way I like you.” 

And after those words tumble from his lips that hand moves up to cup your cheek, mouth leaning in to place itself upon your own. He can taste your coffee concoction on his lips now, and finally get to feel the softness of your cheeks. Similar to a boy's first kiss, he opens his eyes, trying to admire the features (finally) up close. 

“Well, it’s obvious he confessed,” Pam laughed, rolling her eyes while speaking in the confessional. “He shows that lovesick smile all the time, I would know, I’m his best friend. It was even obvious that she liked him, but I figured it would be better for him to find that out on his own.”

The camera went on to pan into where you and Jim were giggling at the candy on the receptionist's desk. He stole a piece from your hands, plopping it into his mouth, and you lightly smacked his arm in response. Jim’s lips twitched, hands grabbing your own hand, and just shaking his head before letting it loose. To Jim the confession was liberating, he was known to be a people pleaser but especially a you pleaser. Yet, hiding his growing affection from the office staff would be more difficult than he imagined.

(the office masterlist)

#the office x reader #office x y/n #office x you #office x reader #jim x reader #jim halpert x you #jim halpert x reader #jim halpert x y/n #jim x you #office fanfiction #jim halpert fanfiction

[floraltypes]

is it even a question if i would like a fic of during svu?! of course!! another wonderful fic, the forehead kisses UGH, too cute (and too sexy) loved this, another great job elois

dating sonny carisi before svu headcanons this is already so long. let me know if y'all want a part ii of during svu.

content warnings- nsfw themes (18+), swearing, and mentions of alcohol.

- you two meet at fordham. you’re a full time law student, fresh from the criminal justice department at john jay while sonny is in his starting years as a detective at staten island pd.

- he sat next to you in your legal writing and research class, your only night class. it was the only time the class fit into your schedule and it was only once a week. not too bad besides the shit amount of writing. the cute guy was also a plus.

- the first few classes you two exchanged small smiles and easy conversation, even numbers for questions about homework. neither of you knew it at the time but your fates were sealed.

- one day something felt different. your usual happy-go-lucky desk neighbor rushed into class late, dressed in his work clothes and hair askew. you did not miss the flip your poor heart performed. he slid into his usual spot, pulling out his notebook and pencil.

- you prayed to whatever god was listening that your heartbeat was much louder to you than it was to everyone else.

“hey doll, did i miss anything? a case ran late.”

- as soon as the name left his lips, you were fucked. whether it was his staten accent or the damned piece of hair in his face, your fleeting thoughts of how sonny would look between your thighs grew into solid attraction.

“nah. porter was just going over examples of our next paper. i’ll send you the pictures later.”

- you answered nonchalantly. a handsome cop would not derail your plans of becoming a well respected prosecutor, no matter how handsome he was. you could ask him out for a drink after class ended.

“you’re a real lifesaver. i owe you a lunch.”

- if your heart had been doing flips before, now they were doing a full on trapeze act.

“i’d like that a lot.”

- after several dates and shared all nighters to finish papers, sonny decides to ask you to be his girlfriend. however, it does not go as smoothly as he hoped.

- as he is getting ready to pick you up for your date, the homicide division gets a call, meaning not the first canceled date in your relationship. he makes the call in the squad car as his partner drives the two of them to the scene. not what he planned for his night.

- you’re not upset as sonny is. you know how important his job is. that doesn’t mean it doesn’t sting a little. at least it gives you more time to catch up on your reading.

- as the bell tower chimes ten times, you realize one chapter is enough for now. standing up to stretch your legs, there’s a knock at your door. wearily you stalk towards the peephole and see sonny in his work clothes and a large bouquet of your favorite flowers, peonies and lilies.

“sonny?”

“i hope this makes up for our date?”

- the things this man did to your heart. you happily take the flowers and invite him in.

- instead of spending the evening at a fancy restaurant, you snuggle on the couch and make fun of crime dramas, groaning and laughing at the major and minor mistakes. you two definitely had more fun at your apartment than you would have at a restaurant.

- as the night wound down and sonny knew he had to get home soon with work early in the morning, he decided it was now or never.

“doll, i had a question for you?

“hmm?”

“i’ve had a lot of fun on all our dates and love spending time with you. somehow you haven’t gotten sick of me or my unpredictable schedule. i was going to wait to ask. i had this whole dinner planned for tonight and then i-”

“are you asking me to be your girlfriend, detective carisi? if so, i’d love to.”

“wait, really? even though i had to cancel?”

- sonny was not used to being someone’s first choice. in high school, he had always been the lanky kid who had not grown into his body. in college, he was quite handsome but all the dates he went on, girls mostly wanted to hookup. once he was on the force, his busy schedule often turned girls away. there was mckenna from college but she was working for the lapd and leah the school teacher.

“yes really. especially then. can’t have other girls trying to flirt with my guy to get out of tickets.”

“your guy?”

- the two of you have a hard time seeing each other during the week. with sonny’s night classes, his double shifts, your day classes, internship at the manhattan da office, and shifts at the bar, most of the time you two see each other is at night.

- sonny often would show up to your apartment after a long day of classes and work, wanting nothing more than to curl up in your queen sized mattress with you.

- you would be waiting with whatever ingredients for the dish sonny to make that night. you had learned from the first time he came over that it wasn’t worth fighting him on.

- cooking was his love language and he catered to whatever dietary restrictions you had. besides there’s a reason you chose law school rather than culinary school.

- if he wasn’t in the mood for cooking, you would either make a pasta dish for the two of you or order in from a pizza place.

- he’s the kind of guy who makes you not only his phone wallpaper but keeps a polaroid of you in his wallet. when he’s having a bad in the field, he takes a minute to look at the tiny picture, a solid reminder of why he does what he does.

- forehead kisses. i cannot stress this enough. even if you’re taller than mister long legs, he will stand on his tiptoes to kiss your forehead. it’s almost a reflex.

- he’ll do it at the most random times. washing your face at one in the morning? a ‘good night sweetheart’ and forehead kiss. studying for your latest exam in the middle of his living room floor? forehead kiss. in the middle of going down on him? forehead fucking kiss.

- your second year of law school, the two of you decide to move in together. the two of you spend a weekend apartment hunting and settle on a cute little two bed, one bath in queens. it’s in the middle of your work, sonny’s precinct, and fordham.

- the kitchen becomes filled to the brim with cooking utensils and instruments; pantry flush with ingredients and spices used in common italian dishes. law books are scattered around flat surfaces, dog eared and marked with sticky notes. your art supplies and many journals are on a small shelf sonny had made for you. it even had your name in an attempt at cursive.

- date nights at least twice a month are mandatory. if sonny can't get one saturday night off, then there's a problem. you two alternate between planning dates.

- they can be as simple as going to a new exhibit at the met or a picnic at the park. or they can be fancy like going to a four star restaurant or a gala for fordham students or nypd. as long as you two are together, it really doesn't matter.

here are where things are nsfw

- sonny has a mad sex drive. like real mad. with your busy schedules, it's almost impossible for you two to have sex more than twice a week. you're just too exhausted from spending the whole day on your feet. this makes the time y'all have sex even better.

- on the weekends, you two go at it like rabbits. you hardly leave the bed unless it's for meals or other essential human functions. it's almost normal for sonny to get called in during sex. if he does get called in that is.

- i don't really see him as someone who's real into the dark kinky shit like knife play or even little things such as bdsm. especially later on when he starts working with sex crimes. it's just too surreal. that doesn't mean this man doesn't have any.

- he definitely has a breeding kink. sonny's always wanted a large family coming from one himself. once y'all are ready to have kids, it is over. he'll at least want three.

- sonny 100% has a praise kink. whether it's giving it or receiving it, he's a huge sucker for compliments. telling him he's taking you so well or calling him your good boy will make him reach his climax much, much faster.

- he's definitely a switch. most nights he has no problem taking control but after a really hard case, he likes to get his brains fucked out like the rest of this side of tumblr.

back to pg-13 content

- your third year of law school is when sonny transfers to staten island's sex crimes unit.

- he barely makes it a month before they transfer him to another department. sonny takes the hit hard.

- once he calls you almost in tears, you rush to staten island and grab the make sonny feel better essentials: serafina's famous cannolis, cheesy romcoms, y2k classics, red box wine, and that good movie theater kind of popcorn.

- you pop in mean girls into the dvd player, light lavender candles of different sizes, and poured two glasses of wine. opening one of your textbooks, you wait on the couch for your golden retriever of a boyfriend to come home.

- not an hour later, you hear the keyhole turn and rush to greet sonny. he doesn't make it past the entryway before he collapses in your arms.

"i worked there for my entire career and they just throw me to a different police department entirely. what kind of cop am i, sweetheart?"

"one that cares."

#law and order svu #law and order imagine #svu imagine #sonny carisi #sonny carisi x reader #sonny carisi imagine #floral. #florals.ficrecs

[floraltypes]

Hi! First congratulations 🥳

Could you do an Anthony Bridgerton X Reader story with the prompt "is it so obvious how infatuated i am?", pretty please. Thank you very much and congratulations again!!!!

thank you for your request and compliments !!

i hope you enjoy it and please let me know what you think <3

anyone can request here !

the fic

#floral.ficrequests #floral.900event

[floraltypes]

Reel in the Moment

pairing - anthony bridgerton x fem!reader

summary - anthony must admit that with all the time afar his yearning for you is still present

request - 900 event

The grounds were filled with various members of the gossiping ton. They filtered about the grassy lands with fans and umbrellas in their grip, hoping to block out the annoyance of the sun. Fellow small children had rushed to the gates holding back the horses who were to race. They stuck their smaller hands out in hopes of touching the drippy snouts. The racers themselves either flirted with young maidens or spewed evocative words at each other. This area was truly bubbling with many emotions, similar to what was happening with Anthony’s own emotions.

Considering your reappearance after much time it perplexed his emotions greatly and knew that excitement would fill his whole family. Though he had yet to see you walk onto the grounds, he could concur that as soon as you were on the premises Eloise would have your hand, yet it was just her and Penelope. 

Anthony did have Edwina’s hand, her own family, and Lady Danbury traveling behind as they both walked around. The race had yet to begin, giving the two moments to speak about future hopes and plans amongst themselves despite Anthony’s wandering eyes. 

The young maiden was absolutely joyed at having moments with the wanted viscount, she enjoyed his presence and despite her eldest sister’s words regarding the possible match, Lady Danbury allowed her the moment with him. 

“Do you enjoy these types of events, my lord?” she questioned, peering up at his stoic look. It was clear if anyone just glanced closer for a few lingering seconds that something else was forefront on the viscount’s mind. 

“Hm?” he hummed, looking back over at the pretty maiden in pink before nodding his head with a smile. “I truly do, do you enjoy horses, Miss Sharma?”

“Kate does! She often rides back home, though I do enjoy admiring the animals.”

“Well, a small insight, the one in blue holds no chance. Why, the fat on his legs is much smaller compared to others, giving away the strength in them,” he pointed out.

“You are most knowledgeable!”

“Mrs. Edwina, there is someone you shall meet,” Lady Danbury had called out to her, she swiftly turned around, apologizing to the man as she wandered back towards her family. Anthony walked back to his own family seeing that a new person had joined the excited bunch. 

“You must tell us! Did you meet a princess? I had heard there were many there,” Hyacinth exclaimed, hanging onto your arm as you laughed at her actions. 

“Where had you ever heard that?” Violet laughed herself, shaking her head before looking sympathetically back at your mother. 

“I would wish to be granted that opportunity, though I was not.” you denied, a fake sigh leaving your lips. “I am delighted to see my favorite family once again.”

“I wish you were a Bridgerton as well,” Gregory huffed. 

“She could marry!” Hyacinth quickly responded. “Oh, you must!”

“The youngest get to greet before I?” Benedict questioned, smiling over at you. “I must know what you are thinking since returning. You saw Eloise and Penelope last evening?”

“I missed my dear friend,” you turned towards her, smiling graciously before another hand was tugging at your own. 

“Anthony, dear, you must come to say hello!” Violet gestured him over, glass in hand. Your voice got quiet at the mention of him, lightly gnawing at your bottom lip with memories of the past and new knowledge you learned.

“Oh, I shall go and retrieve my brother,” You mumbled, rushing past Anthony as you searched for the man. The air caused by your movement allowed some of your perfume to venture into his senses, lightly sniffing the citrus scent before hiding the smile that seemed to take over his lips.

A faint thought resounded in his head, the idea of capturing your wrist right at that moment and pulling you close to his chest. He wanted to complete that action many times before, the main thought on his mind was to feel the plushness of your lips, let those actions say all the words of his feelings he could never get out. 

“She is to wed this season,” your mother mentioned, fanning herself with the feathered device. “I spoke to a young gentleman’s father last evening, he is to approach her any moment now.”

“She can not get married!” Hyacinth muttered, Benedict, smiling down and leading her off as his mother apologized to yours for her words. They were ones, Anthony thought, she shouldn’t have been apologizing for, that thought wasn’t just going through the youngest’s head but also the oldest.

He wished to gain another moment to speak, he wanted to finish the conversation from before. It was a conversation cut short, and your past confession, he wanted to clarify the meaning behind it.

His own feet lead him off, searching for an area where your locks were in sight. He soon heard the small laugh and followed the noise to find you standing beside a fellow gentleman, a new drink in your grip, and another gloved hand hovering near your own.

“What is commencing here?” he stormed over, hands at his hips as the man drew his hand away from your own, closing his mouth that was once letting out laughs as well.

���I apologize, Viscount Bridgerton, I do not understand,” the man spoke, leaning back onto the stand and taking a sip of his drink. “We were merely chatting,” he winked back at you.

“You were to find your brother, the man is not present, let me help search,” he reached for your hand before a girl moved to his side announcing his name.

“Lord Bridgerton, the races are to start,” she voiced then turning to face the both of you. “I’m Miss Sharma, a pleasure to meet you..”

“The diamond, it is my pleasure,” you responded by telling her your name, handing off a drink to the maiden before complimenting her dress. “You are most beautiful.”

“Why, thank you,” she conversed more with you as Anthony just stared at the scene, watching how polite you could be while still sending annoyed glares at him.

“Let us go to the benches, we can be seated near one another,” Anthony commented, reaching over for your hand until the man on your side took it instead and Edwina placed her in his. All four of you traveled over, a Kate Sharma in some distance behind, and sat near one another on the bench.

Edwina was seated first, Anthony following after and waiting for you to take the open space right on his other side. Your new male friend sat there instead, leading you to his other side, holding your drink as you gathered your skirts to sit.

“It has been much time since I have attended a race,” you mentioned, pointing out to the opponents. “I must believe that his calves have too little fat to be placed high.”

“That is similar to Lord Bridgetons assessment!” Edwina pointed out, leaning over to look at you. “You enjoy the animals as well?”

“I had few moments with them in early years,” you told her, leaning back.

“She was a terrible rider,” Anthony commented, letting out a chuckle before facing more toward Edwina. “Once, her buckle was not fastened and she fell straight to the ground. I would imagine she would be prepared with all the begging that ensued.”

“It was your duty to fasten it,” you hastily responded, huffing slightly. “Eloise had begged as well, I chose to ride for her.”

“You wished to do it due to your brother's talents.”

“That is a lie.”

“He could become a professional rider, much talent, it is understandable she was envious,” he smirked, Edwina politely listened, nodding her head at his argument.

“Envious?” Edwina repeated.

“The races are to begin,” the man beside him interrupted. “No need for teasing, she was a mere child, let us enjoy the race,” looking back at you he pointed to the horse he was voting for with a bashful grin.

Anthony kept quiet for a short moment, listening to the gunshot as the horses traveled at dizzying speeds around the tracks. Whips were present in the hands of the riders, encouraging or demanding the animals to hurry up their running.

“Come now! Come now!” Anthony chanted to himself, watching the one he had voted for begin to take a lead among the others.

“Here he rushes!” you stood up, radiantly motioning over to the animal who was right behind the one Anthony betted on. He was racing in behind, his owner waving and holding onto the reins as they all leaned to the side following a turn.

“Still childishly, hopefully for the small,” he laughed to himself. “The one in red has much speed, the better choice.”

“I disagree, Lord Bridgerton, purple has more saved power,” you denied, watching as the one in purple was slowly inching closer and closer.

Anthony yelled encouragement for the one in red, as much of the crowd was also doing. You showed some of your hope for purple, eventually joining along and hoping for the horse to take the win.

As soon as your voice quieted it caught Anthony’s attention, the man beside him was now whispering some statement very close to your face. It was an image that disgusted the viscount, how improper could this stranger be?

The races were soon over, the winner being the one in red. It was a simple succession that lead to a quick comment of boasting until your male friend helped you down the steps.

Words buzzed around the table, all revolving around the new sights your brother was gifted with viewing, describing his new adventures during your family's move. He loved to blabber on and felt no worry to stop, Colin constantly added words of his own travels, both bonding over it.

A small giggle left your lips at the mention of your brothers' trips, a memory of how he’d fallen in front of a whole crowd causing the noise. Anthony’s eyes were immediately drawn to you, he’d tried so much during this time to keep it on his food but finally hearing such a delightful sound, he couldn’t help himself.

“Brother,” you began, placing your napkin back onto your lap. “Was that not the time you split your drink on Lady William?” a few more laughs came out from others, just imagining the man dumping water on someone. “It was how he met his wife.” you went on as he flushed red.

“That was not our first meeting,” he denied, shaking his head. “My sister had plenty of foolishness. Once, she had tripped on Lord Landon’s shoe, and almost fell back into the table holding the cake! It was a shock that he still wished to dance with her.”

“I do wish to hear more,” Colin muttered.

“Have you found someone to court?” Eloise frantically turned her head to her friend, eyes wide, nudging her shoulder.

“Impossible, if she completed something as such, it would scare the man,” Anthony commented, shaking his head and taking another bite of his food.

“Anthony,” his mother warned, sending a sympathetic look before taking a drink from her glass.

“We have arrived home in hopes of me courting someone here,” you responded, looking back to Eloise with a kind smile.

“Anthony is as well, searching for someone to court!” Benedict exclaimed, pointing over to his brother with much enthusiasm. “It seems as if it is fate that you both search at the same moment.”

“Fate?” you repeated, putting down your fork and finally letting your eyes land on the man across. He eyed you up and down, slowly moving up, biting down on your tongue you tried to choke out a laugh. “Never mind that.”

“You and Anthony would be a fine pair!” Hyacinth agreed, poking her head more over the table, giving Gregory a chance to fling another pea at her eye.

“They hold no such affections,” Eloise interrupted. “My dear companion, she is one of such intelligence she could never hold affection for Anthony.”

“Did you hear he is to court, Miss Edwina Sharma?” Colin asked you, cutting up some of his food. “Lady Whistledown writes, you have heard of her, yes?”

“Indeed, to both.”

“Lady Whistledown is a gossiper who only wishes for chaos. I am not courting Mrs. Edwina at the moment, to be true.” Anthony interrupted, waving his hand about as if it were only mere speculation. “They are possible plans for the future.”

“Brother, you had just told me earlier-” Benedict began before Anthony rudely cut him off.

“Let us hear more of our guests' adventures, do tell more of your new wife.”

“My marriage is one I’m very content with, though there is more excitement in my sister's endeavors. Our mother believes she should proceed affections with the Lord down the ways, Lord Garnshaw.”

“He is much too noisy.” Anthony took a sip of his drink, turning his head towards Violet, “Mother you agree? He yells every word, bothering much of the ton, too much for you to work with.”

“Or Lord Eisterton,” you furrowed your brows, watching the way his face was morphed into an expression of disgust at the name. “Though this is no matter, Benedict how ha-”

“Not that man, he has much history with all the women of the ton. He would prove to be an unreliable man.”

“Well, it is a fine matter then that the one I choose does not concern you.”

“I just wish to provide you guidance, do accept it graciously.”

“I see you still wish to chastise me, even despite all the time that passed,” you stood up from your chair, placing the cloth napkin on the seat before turning to the host. “Please excuse me,” you walked out of the dining room, gathering your skirts and muttering words of frustration to yourself.

“Anthony,” his mother sighed, shaking her head while he just left his seat, moving after you.

It infuriated him that you would even consider those men, ones who held nothing compared to him, they could not give you what he knew you still yearned for. He read your journals, he fought your brother, he helped you learn, he did it all and not them.

He was the one who knew where your feet would lead you, the large oak door pried open to where you stood on your toes trying to reach a book behind his big oak desk. Your skirts rose above your ankles, hair daintily clipped behind your head and bottom lip between your teeth. It was a habit for you to search for a book, even just getting lost in the opening pages, to take your mind off the time at hand.

“Are you there?” you turned around, book gripped in your hands before signing and stepping away. “You’ve found me, similarly to earlier.”

“I was not searching for you then.”

“Were you searching for Mrs. Edwina then?”

“No, no, why would you presume that?”

“She is the one you are to court, is she not?” you placed the book down, stepping towards him who was right beside the small flickering candle. “I expected the alluring viscount to find a beautiful viscountess but the time I arrived.”

“I have not. You must believe my astonishment was true, seeing you, after much time…”

“She must be the one you court.”

“Why, why must she?” he stepped closer, chest near your own as he looked down, admiring your heavy breaths and squinted eyes. Your hand moved up to your chest, placed flat on your heart before taking a step behind, being stopped by the large desk.

“We are not a fine match, our years of history vexing one another.”

He called out your name, taking a key from his pocket. He moved around the desk, opening a drawer and taking out an object before moving in front of you once again. He revealed the tattered, leather notebook, flipping through the pages.

“This is fine evidence of us, of our relation! Your words spew a different compassion than you share with the others, we share an opposing compassion.”

“My lord, those words,” you shook your head, taking the notebook from his hand and reading a passage. Many surprises took over at the idea he had kept such a belonging for all this time. “This notebook.”

“You told me before your disappearance, you promised, my heart would always be intertwined with yours,” he slowly lifted his hand to your cheek, lightly rubbing his thumb against the skin, relishing in the foreign contact. “I am no longer an immature child. Is it not obvious that I am infatuated with you?”

“My lord,” you mumbled, letting his hand gently take your own and move the skin to his lips, kissing your left hand's ring finger. “What of…?”

“Nevermind that now,” he let your arm fall back at your side, hand sliding to cup your cheek, thumb dragging itself across the skin while he lovingly peered down at your bitten bottom lip. “I wish to reel at the moment with the one I need the most.”

His lips captured yours in a captivating kiss, he ignored the social standards and try to deepen it, letting his other hand travel to grip your heavily clothed waist. Soon he pulled away, keeping his hands present on you. 

“This could hurt our family relations.” 

“Would it not go to strengthen it?” Anthony’s grip had begun to tighten around as if you were to disappear from him any moment now. “I had let you leave once, I can not allow that to happen again.”

“What of Edwina?”

“She is a fine diamond, she will find another. How could I pretend love with one when the one who has my heart stands in front of me?”

You wanted to cover your face at his words, heart leaping at the confession he seemed to be spewing but your nerves and worries just wouldn’t go away. 

“What of the others? What will they think?” you whispered, Anthony gently cupped your cheek in his grip once again, the cool metal of his pinkie ring bringing you back to the moment. The stoic man, so afraid of feelings had never wanted to confront them and see the outcome ensue as much as he desired at this moment. 

“I believe I need you by my side, I care not of others when knowing that I finally may have my viscountess. This has not been a new thought or sporadic, these dreams were with me as a lad. My father always knew that I would come back to you.” 

(bridgerton masterlist)

#anthony bridgerton x you #anthony bridgerton imagine #anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x reader #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x female reader #floral.900event #floral.ficrequests

[floraltypes]

900 followers event !

ahh, thank you all it’s crazy i have grown this much! much love!!

beautiful people choose a prompt from here or here with the character of your choosing, (it can be one i haven’t written for before). - requests

#criminal minds x reader #ncis reader insert #peaky blinder imagine #shameless x reader #harry potter x reader #bridgerton x reader #dc x reader #the office x reader #a business proposal x reader #wednesday x reader #enola holmes x reader #better call saul x reader #euphoria x reader #floral.900event #floral.ficrequests

[floraltypes]

Childish Love

pairing - aaron hotchner x reader 

summary - the four constant thoughts aaron has of you

so you know - a bit of sunshine!reader, maybe ooc hotch, and also inspiration from jades hotch five nosebleeds fic @/luveline

He thinks you’re too sweet. 

Rough hands flip through pages upon pages of information, mostly redacted, with a wallet-sized photo of you at the top right corner. Your eyes beam with excitement and your mouth threatens to conform into a smile while glaring at the camera. He takes notice of the shine of the pendant lying across your neck. Something he imagines holds much importance due to its appearance in the photo. 

There is much information regarding undercover work you’d performed in the past, working alongside inter pool and having expanse knowledge about hunting down criminals. Yet the photo glaring back at him on the papers seems like you’re just too kind for this field. 

“Agent Hotchner, sir,” a curt knock is placed on the wooden door, nameplate hung to indicate who the office within belongs to. 

You take a tentative step inside, hands holding onto two steaming cups, labeled from a local coffee shop. A black pantsuit covers the skin of your legs with a button-up to top it. His eyes can’t help but glance over your figure, taking in the same pendant and glittering smile that you send his way. 

He can tell your nerves by the short breaths, eyes wandering around his figure and not to his eyes until he steps up himself. His form seems much larger than it did sitting behind the desk. 

“Agent,” he speaks your name, trying it out on his tongue. For an odd reason it seems fitting for some soft woman of your nation, a tiny part of him admires that. A tiny part of him admires your sweet demeanor despite the many horrors you’ve undoubtedly witnessed on the job. 

“I’m pleased to finally meet you,” now your rushing over, lightly placing the two on the desk (not before your eyes scan for a coaster) and allowing your hand to be enveloped by his own. 

For a moment the heat of his warm palm reassured your cold fingers all due to forgetting your gloves in a nervous rush to make it to the job on time. You can feel the calloused fingers brush against your smoother ones, his hand faltering to pull itself away. He catches on soon enough to the lingering touch and hastily picks up the file and seats himself back down. 

“You have an impressive resume,” a quick comment, now that same hand offering for you to take a seat across as he flips through. “Family in the job?”

“No, just me,” you beam. Suddenly you gape, hands rushing to the cups and trying to push one across the busy desk toward his frame. “This is for you, sir. I had worked with Agent Prentiss for some time, she told me how you enjoyed your coffee.”

“Thank you,” he nodded, wrapping the cup in his hand. “But this was not necessary.”

“I bought everyone a coffee, even Penelope,” you’re quick to add, changing his original thoughts. 

He brings the cup towards his lips, leaning his head back slightly and taking an anxious sip of a familiar drink. Though what he is matched with is nothing like he imagined, tooth-aching sugar is what fills his mouth - and what he is forced to swallow - in return. 

You mirror his movements, taking a sip of your own but not hiding your expression to the distaste of the bitterness very well. A light cough leaves your lips and Hotchner can feel a part of himself racing for a glass of water to appease you. He catches himself. 

You’re too sweet, just like your coffee order. 

“I think I gave you the wrong one,” you hand your head, cheeks feeling the heat as your hands rush to take his cup. The lightly painted fingers glide against his bony, larger ones, clutching the cup in your grasp. Carefully removing the top and exchanging the lids, you give him the correct cups. “Might be odd to have a kiss our first meet,” you laugh. 

“A kiss?” Hotchner feels a blush of his own overtaking his cheeks, his eyes are wide, and now instead of admiring the change of features that overtook you, he is conscious of his own. 

“Oh! The silly kids' thing, an indirect kiss since my lips were there and then your - oh never mind,” you sigh, mumbling incoherently to yourself as he just watches it all ensue. 

Hotchner can’t help but laugh, his laugh becomes so loud it easily takes over the office. It mimics the smile placed on his lips in the photo of him tickling his son to the ground. It was a somber time then, sadness filling the air, yet his still happy son couldn’t help but make the man grateful and just laugh. It seemed as though in recent times you would be doing the same. Make his life filled with more laughter. Make his life brighter… Maybe he was getting too ahead of himself. 

He thinks you’re too daring. 

“He ran down this way,” you puff, picking up speed to follow the comfortably dressed man down the darkened alleyway. Resting heavily at your side is the trusty firearm you have gained much  experience with using in recent years. The shoes lining your feet are not the most comfortable, not to mention running has never been a hobby, but there is adrenaline rushing through to push you forward and faster. 

Sliding around the corner he disappears from your sight, you keep up the rushed pace, following only a few inches behind as he keeps making his way. You know that your partner, Derek, has probably moved around to find a different entryway to cut him off. As your feet merely point in the direction he was running you hear the scream resonate, pulling yourself back to the corner to hide your body.

Slowly, your head peaks itself out a bit, watching the man with bloodied fingers move the knife around rapidly and then place it onto a young girl's neck. You glance down at the gun hanging in your pocket and knife tucked in your pants then move to approach him. 

“Put the knife down,” you direct, tears forming in the shaken girls' eyes as the man just smirks back over towards you. 

“Where’d that partner go, agent?”

“That holds no matter, why don’t you let the girl carry on her way?” “Really? You couldn’t do that for me, just let me finish my business one last time.”

You and Derek had luckily arrived on the scene before more blood could have been spilled. There were many locations up for looking and you two happened to arrive at the exact one he was tying another girl up in. She had kicked him a few times, causing him to clutch his stomach, and when his eyes reached Derek’s slow stance he ran. You ran after him in response and now you were here, trying to stop him from killing another. 

“She doesn’t seem like your type,” you step a foot forward, eyes squinting and peering over at the girl. You see her eyes widen at your words, and you almost want to wince at what you are to say next. “You could do better, she is so docile, no fun when they don’t put up a fight, right?”

“Now you are understanding, she was a bit easy, probably a slut.”

“Let her go, you know that I will put up a fight,” you want to vomit at your change of tone, the way your free hand taps at your lips. Many questions wandered through your head if this could be the best approach, and how this would look, but it was too late to begin questioning as his arm was already removed and the girl was running. 

“Alright,” he flings the knife to the side, now tumbling towards your frame with fury. Your hands stand on guard, taking the first punch he throws to hit you square in the nose. Though you soon show him your power with an uppercut punch to his jaw. He clutches onto his face before you push kick his knees and deliver another blow square between his eyes. The man's balance falters, and he falls on the unarmed knee and tries to reach for your foot. You gain balance on the grabbed foot, swinging yourself around and using your other to kick the side of his face, the man falling over. Your handcuffs soon are placed around him, yelling and sirens coming closer as you watch co-workers gather around. 

“Damn, someone got a beating,” Derek huffs, hands on his knees as he runs right beside you. “Told Hotch about the girl and you, alone, didn’t like that.”

“It was alright,” you hum, facing Derek. “I have much training in hand-to-hand combat. No need to worry,” you place a smile onto your lips, trying to make it convincing, and soon taste iron on your bottom lip. “Did you see the girl running south of here, pretty shaken?”

“She is alright, but you’re bleeding.”

“Agent-” Hotch yells your name, jumping out from the car as the other agents follow behind. The police take the unsub away and you see your boss impatiently gesture you over to the medic vehicle. 

“I am all good,” you laugh it off, brushing the flowing blood with your sleeve before walking up to your boss. 

“What you did was irresponsible. You didn’t call for backup, not informing your fellow agents of where the suspect was heading, and instead took on a dangerous and armed man all on your own. If it weren't for Derek informing us -” he pauses his rant, a large thumb dragging itself across the skin above your upper lip. He pulls it away with red staining his fingers. “You are hurt.”

“It’s a bloody nose, common, nothing painful.”

“Why would you risk yourself like that?”

“We had to get the unsub, I was the most likely to catch him at that moment.” “There are protocols in place for this very reason. So you don’t have to make decisions to risk yourself, like now.” 

“My mother would say that there are good reasons to break them sometimes. I am truly alright, Hotch, I have been against much more dangerous men.” 

He stopped himself from letting more lectures fall from his lips, just peering back down at his bloody finger. Those same fingers quickly traveled back up to your nose, pinching off the holes so no more blood could fall down. You instinctively reach for his hands, the beginning of bruised knuckles clutching around his with a wince. 

“Seems like it hurts,” he mumbled, looking back at the ambulance that was taking care of the woman who ran back. 

“Maybe it is broken, but probably not, sprained if anything.”

Hotch wanted to say more about your riskiness. He was getting irrational, he had seen your resume, he had seen you fight and negotiate alongside the others, and he knew you were capable, but why did you have to be so daring? Why did you have to willingly take this on? Why was his heart racing unlike it ever has when fellow agents have been in these positions? 

He thinks you are too kind.

Another late night at the office lands Hotchner hunching over the desk, papers a flew, and hand rapidly moving the pent to check off reports. His light is one of the last ones shining and it has been a while since he last peered over at the clock. 

“Looks like daddy is busy,” a young woman tsk, standing at the opening of the elevator with a young boy clutching onto her hand. He has golden hair and his lips move to a frown at the words leaving her lips. 

You pick your head up from your desk, which is covered by papers of your own. After an especially long night, you agreed to take on a couple of files so Emily could get out quicker and head over to her date. When the area was empty you could plop in one earbud connected to your iPod and enjoy the serenity while covering nauseating cases. 

She is blonde as well, you begin to speculate her relation to Hotchner, easily recognizing the little boy to be the son pictured in so many of the photos he likes to share. Yet, you also remember the new vein in his forehead that seemed to appear as he gathered some other assignments to look over from your fellow agents. He was one of the most present in the office, spending much time to do the best job he could, you admired that greatly. 

“Hi,” you end up speaking before honestly thinking through your decision. “I am a co-worker of your dad's,” you walk towards the two with a hand extended, tearing the earbud from your ear you introduce yourself to the woman who tells you she is Jack’s aunt. 

“I am pretty sure Aaron has mentioned you before,” she tiredly grins. “Well, great meeting you, we will just head up there to your dad so auntie can head to bed,” she is looking down at Jack who looks a bit sleepy himself. “I think Aaron forgot that I couldn’t keep Jack overnight today.”

“Yeah, he is always keeping himself busy,” you look back over towards him, sleeves rolled to his elbows and forehead in his open palm. 

“I just want to see daddy,” Jack sputters, rubbing tiredly at his eyes while the small backpack hands loosely in his grip. 

“He wants to see you too, but it's my fault, really,” you’re mumbling and this quickly piques her interest in your words. 

“Why?” Jack softly questions, looking sweetly up at you.  

“I begged your dad to be able and play with you. I know it is late but I have some pencils at my desk, maybe a few colored markers, and want to draw with you. I’ve heard all about your talents and, well, I really want to see them myself,” you lean down towards him, cupping your hand and whispering into his ear. “I can’t find anyone who can draw me Spiderman,” and with a fake sigh, you rest on your knees sadly. 

“I can! I love Spiderman!” he jumps with joy, dropping the bag to the floor, and touches your shoulders with his small hands. “I’ll draw it for you.”

You change your once sad expression to one of excitement, placing your hand on top of one of his. “Thank you so much! We better tell auntie bye so we can get drawing.”

Jack eagerly kisses his aunt on the cheek and she gratefully looks your way, leaving with a content grin on her features. Jack reaches for your hand, you accept it and pick up his discarded bag, leading him to your desk. With gentle hands underneath his armpits you lift him onto the spiny chairs, but not before casting your work all to the side, covered up. Jack opens up his backpack to take out a journal and markers of his own, he offers some to you. 

Kneeling beside him you draw a different figure, playing some light music through your iPod in the background. Soon enough Jack is chatting your ear off while drawing spider webs, talking about his friends at school and what he has recently learned. He explains what his bedroom looks like and a new toy he wants. Eventually, he is finished with the piece of artwork, addressing it to you at the bottom with a tiny, crooked heart by your name.  

“I love it,” you beam, holding it up higher in the air to admire it. “You are so talented, sweetie.”

He just shines with your compliments but despite his happiness, a yawn exits his mouth and his hands travel back up to his eyes. You take off the sweater that was once covering your shoulders, wrapping the young boy up in its comfortable sleeves and placing him back on the chair for him to undoubtedly close his eyes and begin to drift. 

By the time Hotch has shut off the lights to his office, briefcase tight in his grip with the leather coat slung across his shoulder he notices a soft light emitting from your desk. He takes careful steps down the stairs and walks over to recognize the boy snoozing in the chair, and you, who sits on the ground filling paperwork. 

“I am so sorry, did she leave you here with hi-” he begins to ramble, briefcase dropping at his side and hands extending to get a hold of his boy. 

“Shh,” you carefully place a finger over your lips, indicating to your boss that he should lower his voice. “It was my choice, I wanted to spend time with the infamous Jack.”

He grins. His lips upturn for the first time in a while at your pure kindness towards his son. You took over taking care of him so he could peacefully finish his work all while not making him feel guilty about forgetting his son. 

 “He looks kind of comfortable,” Aaron comments, trying to hide his spreading grin while looking over at his son sweetly resting away. 

“Surprisingly, these chairs could never put me asleep,” he laughs at your comment, causing Jack to stir in his sleep while you try to muffle your giggle. Hotchner leans down, lowering himself to sit beside you on the ground. 

You turn towards him, faces only a few inches apart and your knees even closer to touching. It seems as if you can feel the heat of his breath from this distance, you can notice the softness of his lips and bobbing adam's apple. He recognizes your chewed bottom lip and darkened lashes with small clumps of mascara at the tips. Though these small things just make him want to notice more of your secret features. You are thinking the same. 

“I really like Batman,” you admit, well sputter in admission. It comes out jumbled and your eyes are trying not to stare at his own, or his lips, and you nervously spit out nonsense. 

“What?” he is back to being serious, eyebrows furrowing. 

“I told Jack I wanted him to make me a Spiderman drawing, but I am a bigger Batman fan. I lied,” you whisper softer now. 

“Me too.”

“Really? But Jack is such a big fan of Marvel comics, I figured you were too.”

“It must have been his classmates, I always read about Batman and Joker growing up.”

“Oh, me too! The DC villains and Gotham are just so interesting. I still occasionally read them now.”

“That’s cute,” he slips, pink gathering at his cheeks when recognizes his confession. You can feel your ears heating and your hand itching closer to his. “The sweater that you gave him, it looks … cute,” it sounds a little as if he is questioning himself. 

“Very comfortable too,” you’re quick to add, his hands moved a bit closer to your own this time. 

Your eyes wander down to how your hands are nearly touching, how your finger keeps tapping and getting closer and closer. “Is your hand alright?”

“Oh yeah!” you choke, shaking your head and then turning it into a nod. “Of course.”

His hand finally takes yours in his, palms lying across each other and his fingers fold over to apply pressure to the holding. “You’re shaking a bit.”

He can’t say that it is only you, it feels as if his own heart is shaking. 

He thinks you’re too beautiful. 

The new scenery is very different from the other bar they tend to regulate more often. As a team constantly involved in traumatic events together, they try not to make it the only thing they experience together. Hence why Penelope has dragged the BAU team to a new, flashy club to let loose and have fun. 

She has been loose for a while now. Penelope, predictably, has a low tolerance, and after two drinks she is yelling and dancing with a random guy on the floor. Not before of course trying to gather any romantic secrets she can from her co-workers. It is not very successful. 

Though if anything the woman is determined, she is determined to get everyone to have as great of a time as she is. That is the reason that most of your group is out on the dance floor at the moment, just jumping around and giggling at an old song. Derek and Penelope are actually breaking out dance moves and Reid stands on the dance floor near JJ just lightly nodding his head, more in the corner of the dance floor. Meanwhile, you and Emily are swaying a bit more together near the dancing duo, admiring their moves and laughing to yourselves. 

“Interesting group we got now,” Rossi comments, taking a large sip of his beer while chatting over in a booth with Hotchner. “Fits with the interesting new party spot, though at this age I prefer the setting of that old bar we were going to.”

“I agree,” Hotch nods his head, eyes on where you stand swaying with flared jeans and a shirt revealing more than it normally would. He always likes to see the way you dress outside of work-mandated fashion, get a look at what your figure looks like in tight-fitting clothes or ones that express your style more. He knows it shouldn’t be something he looks forward to, but it is. 

Another thing Aaron knows is that he should be trying to minimize his growing crush on a co-worker, one he is the boss of at that, but he is still letting that get bigger too. 

“Your eyes are lingering,” Rossi laughs, his shoulder bumping with Hotchs’. “Might want to reel them back in this way before she finally notices along with the rest of us.”

“Rest of us?” “We are all profilers, Aaron, we noticed the change in your demeanor with her new presence. Especially me, if anyone.”

“That’s a lie,” Aaron is quick to deny, searching for his discarded bottle amongst the table of half-filled glasses. 

“Let yourself find love,” he whispers, eyes now searching for you in the crowd. “No matter who that is, everyone deserves to find a love that will last.”

“I had Haley, once.”

“Once,” Rossi repeats. “There is a keyword in that statement. I think, in the end, you shared a different type of love for her, not that same that is developing between you and that agent.”

“Getting a bit sentimental there, Dave. Too many drinks?” “No,” he laughs, a good old-hearted laugh, if you were all in your normal bar it would easily be the loudest in the room. “I just see how much you work, how much you secretly care, and I hope for my friend to find someone. That isn’t too sentimental for you now, is it?”

“No, no you’re alright, Dave.”

“It is pretty clear she’s got a little school-girl crush on you too,” Aaron nearly spits out the overly expensive liquor at Dave’s confession. “The subtle glances, little touches, it is like you two are kids again.”

“I wouldn’t say it is that obvious.”

“When you begin to fall in love, a characteristic most pick up on is nativity, that is what-”

“Are you guys going to dance already?” Penelope barges over, cocktail spilling at her abruptness. “Reid is even out there, Doctor who hates crowds, and you two old-timers are sitting here like you are, well, old-timers!”  

“Rossi, last dinner night at your house, we did see some of those moves,” JJ walks over, winking at the man who puts his hands up. 

“Fine, fine, I will show you all how it is done,” this earns a laugh from the group, JJ and Penelope wandering off into the crowd with their new guest. 

“What about you?” Hotch looks over at your form reaching for a random drink to take a sip of. “Are you going to join us?”

“I am no dancer,” Hotch laughs, remembering many past times when he has tried and failed horribly. 

“Me either, but there comes a moment where everyone must perform,” you pretend to do a little curtsy, courtesy of the drinks flowing through you, and laugh when standing back up. “It is just us, no one to impress.”

Aaron Hotchner would greatly disagree with that statement. 

“Just one,” he gives in, standing up and following your giddy form into the crowd. It takes a moment, but soon enough he recognizes the song and awkwardly sways to the beat. You are much more fluent with the moving of your body compared to him and his stiffness. 

The way the bright light shines onto your expression, he admires your pure enjoyment of the moment. If there were such a thing as a mental photo, he was taking one, he was snapping this photo so as to never forget the moment. Hotchner never envisioned himself as a romantic, sappy man, but the way you helped him believe in the hope of fun how could he not think much and just let his hands wander to your waist? 

It stopped your upbeat movements, the heat of his palms bleeding through the thin shirt, the same fabric uplifting so you could feel his rough fingers on your skin. You felt more conscious of the eyes and thoughts of people surrounding you but even more inquisitive about what the man holding onto you was envisioning. 

“Aaron,” the whisper of his name was breathless, he is not even sure he heard it in this loud crowd. 

You quickly step away from his grasp and rush out of the crowd, rummaging through the groups of young and old in hopes of catching the fresh, cold air. Pushing through the doors you lean against the building taking a deep breath in, feeling it down in your lungs. He is fast behind your trail, eyes scattering and brows furrowing when he catches your anxious figure. 

“What happened? I am sorry I should not have touched you-”

“You’re just trying to dance, but my mind leads me to think it is more,” you begin to sputter, hands on your forehead, posture bent. “I am going to have to transfer divisions, I’ve never been this irresponsible.”

“What’s going on?” he sounds very concerned and is even more hesitant now to reach for your shoulder as a way of comfort. 

“Aaron, I don’t think we can work together anymore, my feelings just keep expanding.”

“Your feelings?” he repeats and the words of his fellow friend from only moments before begin to swirl around quicker than his nerves after touching your waist. 

“It is highly unprofessional-”

Aaron gently pulls your hands away from your face, eyes looking into yours and he drops one hand to move his own to your cheek. “I think it’s okay.”

Hotchner has never envisioned himself as a romantic man, but when he lent down and placed his lips onto your own he imagined it was a very similar moment to romance movies. He clutched onto your cheek, rubbing his thumb against the expanse while his lips worked dutifully against your own. 

Your hands began to wander up his arms, pulling yourself closer to his chest. He pulled away, “Don’t we have to sign something before we do all this?” he laughed again at your words, something that you so commonly did to him. 

“As someone special to me once said, there are good reasons to break rules.”

(Criminal minds masterlist)

#Criminal Minds #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds x y/n #criminal minds x you #criminal minds x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #Aaron Hotch Hotchner #aaron x reader #aaron hotchner oneshot #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #hotch x reader #hotch x you

[floraltypes]

Show Me

paring - thomas shelby x fem!reader

summary - the shelby can’t help himself when making a business visit

warnings - mature audience only, read with caution! mentions of oral, hint of manipulation, inexperienced reader

In the early mornings of a new day, the sun has just begun its duty to rise while another is attending to his as well. With his cap tightly secured around his head, pockets filled with folded papers, and trousers neatly ironed he makes his way down the cobblestone path. 

A curt knock on the front of a numbered, wooden door brings the man back to reminisce of a time he had done a similar action for a very different reason. From the other side rustling and wandering around could be heard, and he could already picture the flowers beginning to bud around the home. 

“Mr. Shelby,” you gasp, hands fluttering to cover the feathery coverup as the air from the opened door rose the fabric. Your nightgown only goes right to your knees, leaving much of the skin to be now seen, you aren’t wearing stockings underneath and look completely up for devouring. “I wasn’t prepared.”

He can clearly tell and should refrain from letting those eyes wander but they can’t help but to look down. It’s a familiar nightgown, one he bought for you for your birthday after a curt mention of the clothing piece. Catching himself, he turns his head to look out upon the street.

“I came to chat, merely, about business with your father,” the kids are yelling around the streets, kicking some ball, while a dirty cat prances by with a specific hiss to the superior. 

“Oh!” you light up, hands now itching at the hair tied up in pieces of cloth from the attempt at a different curl. “Did you not hear?”

“Hear of what?” he glances back, eyes landing on your own doe-like ones. Your hands are playing with the ends of thread from the coverup, eyes searching anywhere but his own. It makes him realize how refreshing you are. 

“He was supposed to tell you before he left, well, to tell Polly. I did speak to Ada but she seemed preoccupied-”

“Tell me of what?” he cut you off, stepping inside and closing the door shut behind him. 

“That I was the one running the business. It was actually me, in secrecy.”

“You?” he looks down at the soft pout forming on your lightly tainted lips, twirls of hair coming loose, fidgety stance, and sweet pink of your dress mimicking the sweetness you possess. “You have been taking care of your father's plant business?” 

“I know much of nature,” you beam. “Please sit,” you gesture to him to an open seat in the nearby room, only two seats available. “I have tea ready.” 

You rush around the confined kitchen/dining room, pouring the steaming pot into a cup and gathering the limited sugar from the cupboard. Thomas sits gently in an open seat, legs crossed, and glances around the (somehow) nicer-looking kitchen. He never really noticed how much of an effect you had on the things you touched, including your father's business. 

“I read much, sir, especially when the men were away someone had to take over,” you explain, dropping a cube into his drink despite the lack of asking. “I now know much about,” you lean across the table, cupping your hand to his ear, “drugs,” you whispered. 

Thomas coughs, cheeks lighting up, “Who distributes them? You?” he takes another sip to try and cool the unexpectedness of your actions. A man of himself has had his fair accounts with women taking a liking to him, and their boldness, yet someone as you who has held such a place in his heart since childhood was the definition of unexpected. 

“No, father had a partner,” you easily tell him, pushing your dress down. It was always so simple for you to reveal secrets to a man you admire madly. “He picks up the items and sells them ‘imself. Kind fellow actually,” you add.

Thomas plants his feet firmly on the ground, now beginning to inch his chair over towards you. He moves it right beside your own, his knee touching your unclothed one. He picks through his pockets, a crumpled box filled with limited cigarettes. Propping open the box, his fingers picked their way toward a white roll, snugging it in between his pointer and middle finger. 

Your eyes were stuck on where your body was connected, feeling heated at the foreign touch of a man. He slowly looks you up and down, watching your fascination with his actions. “You have a light?” he whispers, words near your ear that you now feel as if those are burning as well. Looking back up your met with his stare, his eyes going back down to gesture to the cigarette between his fingers. 

“Mhm,” it comes out very quietly, hands fumbling towards the middle of the table where a matchbox lies. With a quick flick of the match a spark forms, you move the flame underneath the cigarette, watching the change in color at its end. He moves the stick to his mouth, breathing in largely before letting the smoke fall out. It isn’t surprising to him how your eyes are unable to glance away from his pink lips inhaling the substance.  

“Have you missed me?” Thomas questions, his hand moving to cup your cheeks. “You used to always complain when I went away when we were lads.”

“Of course.”

“Then won’t you show me?”

There is no movement on your part, pure shock at his words showing through the widening of your eyes. 

“Alright then,” he mumbles, pointer finger brushing back and forth against your cheek until his thumb prods at your bottom lip, “Why pretend innocence? You ‘ave done this once before.”

“I was nine, my eldest sister said I had to.”

“Did you not like it?”

You carefully take the cigarette from his grip, holding it tight and inhaling it in hopes to calm the bubbling nerves. Smoke falls past your lips and flows towards Thomas’s way. As he steals it back your hands stay motionless and he takes this opportunity to place his lips onto yours. 

It is a soft peck at first, the flavor of tea and smoke mixing with your own on your lips. His mouth opens as yours stayed close, hand still cupping your cheek before you open your lips for his tongue to dive in. The one hand holds the smoke away, focused on discovering your taste. He soon enough pulls away to watch you take a deep breath, eyes hooded, and body inching itself closer to his own. 

He flicks the ash into the small, empty sugar bowl, pressing it towards the bottom to stop the flame. With his now free hand, he moves to the hem of your nightgown, lifting the material and dragging his hand further up your thigh. What his other thumb once did to your cheek he now does to your inner thigh, finger dragging itself across the skin, that same skin heating his once cold hand. 

A small noise forms, where he was once staring down below moves back up towards your expression. Your hands travel underneath his coat, trailing themselves further toward his neck, and kiss him with eagerness. Soon enough your lips are opening themselves on their own, awaiting Tommy to take control once again. He deepens the kiss, that hand now resting on top of your underwear. 

You lift your butt slightly, scooting to feel his hand more. His finger points through the fabric slightly to allow you to feel the tip. “Tommy,” you moan during a break, grabbing onto his muscled arms tightly while he continues his movements below. 

His lips kiss down towards your neck, sucking on the open skin as your pussy keeps trying to move his finger deeper, yearning to feel more friction. You can feel the uplift of his lips on your skin and would imagine the gears turning in his head in regard to his effect on you yet your mind can only focus on one thing. He finds it endearing, exhilarating and entertaining all at once. 

“Do not get greedy,” he tuts, looking down at the mark forming on your skin. “This should be for me, show your gratitude.”

“Anything,” you hum, kissing his cheek where a fresh scar lay. He winces at the touch until the following kisses help him to relax even more in the rickety chair. “Anything for you, Tommy.”

He removes his hand from your pussy and totally removes himself from you. Your eyes are now fully open, looking at him, and a slight pout forms on your lips at the lack of contact. He takes your hand in his own, moving it down toward the top of his trousers. 

“Go ahead, show me,” he commands, your dainty fingers working to pop the button. Instead of continuing to pull them down, he takes charge once again, completing that for you. He guides your hand towards his crotch, placing it on the underwear covering it. “Feel it up, it's your first, ain't it?”

Your hand works, now clutching onto the bulge and letting your fingers be felt through the fabric. Your thumb rubs on the enclosed tip, trying to follow the length up to his waistline, slowly, inquisitive. His hands are now fumbling back with that same crinkled box, searching for another cigarette. Hesitantly you pull his undergarments down, watching as his cock springs to life, the tip hitting his stomach. You continue to feel the head, it's wet with precum and larger than you had imagined. 

“Just like a lolly now. Suck on it.”

He lifts his hand to push down on your bottom lip, opening your mouth. You lean further down, pushing the chair back, and getting onto your knees. You take the tip into your mouth, hollowing while trying to suck it like the sweet treat he told you to imagine it was. Your tongue moves around and eventually takes his cock out in order to kiss it up. 

The cigarette is now lit, placed between his lips as slit eyes peer down at you. He huffs at the smoke, admiring your fascination with his cock. You feel his balls hesitantly and begin to take his cock back into your mouth once again, trying to suck as he once guided before. 

Though it isn’t much, and he has experienced women who could at least take half, it is the fact that you are the one doing it. The only one who could calm the tremors he experienced during the night, the only one he could ever allow his softness to be seen by who wasn’t family. Some may say the Shelby became infatuated with you over the years, but those who would mutter such words knew the consequences they would weep. 

He thrust his hips, cock entering further into your mouth, tears forming in your eyes. Tommy knew he was almost at his point, quickly coming undone, and soon enough - with a grunt - you could feel an unknown liquid drip to the back of your throat. 

He pulled your face away, hands gripping onto your chin and trying to move you closer to his own face. Thomas stared at your fucked out gaze, brain hazy and hands searching for his own. He helped you get seated on the seat once again, liquid dripping onto your laced gown. 

“It’s a bit lonely here,” he looks around the silent home (besides your panting). “Come back to the house with me, see Ada, and we can continue to talk business there.”

“Yes, yes, Tommy,” you nodded, pieces of the cloth had fallen from your hair, allowing the strands to dangle. “I have to change.”

“Now, now,” he places the cigarette between your lips. “Take a drag sweet, I’ll go gather your dress.”

Though he didn’t mutter the words of fondness as many lovers would, he knew that he wanted you as his.

(peaky blinders masterlist)

#peaky blinders #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinders x y/n #peaky blinders x reader #thomas shelby x imagine #thomas shelby x y/n #thomas shelby x reader #shelby x reader

[floraltypes]

ᴛᴏᴍᴀꜱ ꜱʜᴇʟʙʏ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

➟ Show me

[floraltypes]

ᴘᴇᴀᴋʏ ʙʟɪɴᴅᴇʀꜱ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

➟ Thomas Shelby 

[floraltypes]

here’s a snip bit from a hotch piece i’m working on, plssss let me know what you think!!! (a quick summary is hotch’s five initial thoughts of you)

it’s supposed to be a hotch x sunshine!reader

~~~~~~~~~~

“No, just me,” you beam. Suddenly your mouth separates as your eyes recognize the inaction of your offerings and how they could appear. Your hands rush to the cups and push one across towards his frame. “This is for you, sir. I had worked with Agent Prentiss for some time, she told me how you enjoyed your coffee.”

“Thank you,” he nodded, wrapping the cup in his hand. “But this was not necessary.”

“I bought everyone a coffee, even Penelope,” you’re quick to add, changing his original thoughts.

He brings the cup towards his lips, leaning his head back slightly and taking an anxious sip of a familiar drink. Though what he is matched with is nothing like he imagined, an tooth-aching sugar is what fills his mouth - and what he is forced to swallow - in return.

You mirror his movements, taking a sip of your own but not hiding your expression to the distaste of the bitterness very well. A light cough leaves your lips and Hotchner can feel apart of himself racing for a glass of water to appease you. He catches himself.

You’re too sweet, just like your coffee order.

“I think I gave you the wrong one,” you hand your head, cheeks feeling heat as your hands rush to take his cup. The lightly painted fingers glide against his bony, larger ones, clutching the cup in your grasp. Carefully you remove the top, exchanging the lids, and giving him the correct cups. “Might be odd to have a kiss our first meet,” you laugh.

“A kiss?” Hotchner feels a blush of his own overtaking his cheeks, his eyes are wide, and now instead of admiring the change of features that overtook you, he is conscious of his own.

“Oh! The silly kids thing, an indirect kiss since my lips were there and then your - oh never mind,” you sigh, mumbling incoherently to yourself as he just watches it all ensue.

Hotchner can’t help but laugh, his laugh becomes so loud it easily takes over the office. It mimics the smile placed on his lips in the photo of him tickling his son to the ground. It was a somber time then, sadness filling the air, yet his still happy son couldn’t help but make the man grateful and just laugh. It seemed as though in recent times you would be doing the same. Make his life filled with more laughter. Make his life brighter… Maybe he was getting too ahead of himself.

#criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #hotch x you #aaron hotchner x reader

[floraltypes]

i’m obsessed, just everything, just so so so so so cute, i love it!!!

— the perfect girl

pairing: wednesday addams x fem!oni!reader

warnings: none

summary: wednesday hated warming up to anyone, but she would lie if she said the demon girl with soft grins and calloused hands wasn't slowly occupying a special corner in her heart

word count: 3.3k

read pt. 1 here

“You know, I’m still kinda pissed about the dance.”

Wednesday turned in her seat to look at the demon who was busy glaring a hole through the ceiling, hands under her head as she laid on the bed.

“Why would you be?”

“You know why,” (Y/n) worried her lip between her teeth, brows furrowed at the thought that she herself had brought up and didn’t seem to enjoy in the slightest, “It should’ve been me.”

The ravenette stared at the other girl, unblinking, before turning back to her typewriter, “You should’ve asked me yourself, then.”

“It’s never that easy with you. You’re so hard to read sometimes,” the oni girl turned on her side, watching Wednesday type with concentration, “Would’ve you said yes?”

The typing stopped, and Wednesday was silent for a moment, before she continued.

“Yes, I would’ve.”

(Y/n) fist pumped the air with a whisper-yell of a ‘yes!’ before turning to lay on her back again, grinning like a pleased cat. Wednesday sighed, shaking her head, “You’re so childish. The reason I went with Tyler was completely out of my control.”

“Fuck Tyler,” (Y/n) barked with no hesitation, “Well, at least we still got the prom,” she thought for a bit and then asked, “Will you go to prom with me?”

“If you’re not dead or expelled by that time, then yes, I will, (Y/n).” Wednesday replied distractedly, getting a bit annoyed with the conversation, “Now, please, let me focus.”

The demon girl sighed dreamily, closing her eyes, “I’m going to prom with Wednesday Addams.”

Wednesday rolled her eyes, but couldn't resist a small smile that made its way to her face.

"I want to cuddle with you."

Silence hung heavy in the air for a few moments, and (Y/n) looked up from the book she was reading, brows furrowed in complete disbelief as she stared at Wednesday, who was sitting at her desk like the girl had grown a second head on her shoulders.

"... What?"

"Do you have a hearing problem? I said," the ravenette closed her eyes with a deep inhale, and then looked at (Y/n) again, now obviously annoyed, "I. Want. To cuddle with you."

The demon closed her book and put it on the nightstand, her attention now fully on the other girl, still not believing the statement, “You want to cuddle?” she chuckled, “Is the world ending tomorrow?”

"Choke." Wednesday deadpanned before turning back to the laptop she was scrolling through.

“No, wait,” (Y/n) shot up from the bed to scooch closer to the chair the now frowning girl was resting on, “I’m sorry, snookums. That was insensitive of me,” the demon gave Wednesday the biggest puppy eyes she could manage, and paired with the tusks sticking out of her mouth, she did resemble one, though too big and a bit too menacing to be a puppy, “I would love nothing more than to cuddle with you. Please?”

Wednesday rolled her eyes with a sigh, as if she wasn’t the one asking in the first place, before giving in with fake reluctance, but (Y/n) had long since learned to see right through that bluff. The gloomy girl rose up from the chair, and the demon gently grabbed her hand, slowly, to give Wednesday a chance to pull away if she so desired, and moved the ravenette to stand between her legs, “Do you want me to hold you, or...?”

Without saying a word, Wednesday pushed the oni on the bed before joining her, tangling their legs together and resting her head on the demon’s chest. Wednesday’s body was clad in a hoodie that almost swallowed her whole and that was, undoubtedly, (Y/n)’s, judging by the oversized way it fit on her shoulders. It was the demon’s favorite, too – well, used to be, now that it seemed to belong to the smaller girl who refused to give it back, threatening to chop off the arms of anyone who touched it.

It wasn’t like (Y/n) minded, anyways.

The ravenette's arms wound themselves around the demon's middle, squeezing lightly, and (Y/n) could feel her heart swell.

“Aww, ‘Day,” she cooed lovingly, wrapping her arms around her girlfriend, palms resting on her waist, “You’re like a grumpy little black cat."

“Don’t speak.” The shorter girl grumbled against the oni’s sweatshirt.

“Again?” Wednesday asked, opening her dorm door in front of the demon girl, half – naked and covered in blood from head to toe.

(Y/n) stepped inside, bare feet leaving red prints on the floor, “I ate a deer!” She grinned proudly, eyes still gleaming with her hunting glee, and turned to the other side of the room to wave at the second inhabitant of the dorm, “Hey, Enid.”

“I think I’m gonna throw up.” the blonde mumbled, her hand over her mouth as she buried her face in her pillow.

“You’re killing her, (Y/n),” Wednesday sighed, rummaging through her wardrobe to find some clean clothes, “And you reek of blood. As much as I like that, you need to shower.”

“I don’t wanna.” The demon whined tiredly, stepping closer to Wednesday to drape herself over the girl who moved away, quickly avoiding the other’s bloodied claws and limbs.

“No touching until you’re clean. Come on.”

Despite her reproachful tone, she grabbed the sulking oni by the hand, holding a clean towel and a black oversized hoodie in the other, and led (Y/n) out of the room and to the bathrooms of Ophelia Hall.

The demon girl had made it a habit to come to the ravenette after Blood Moons in the early hours of morning. While she did act cool and collected, she loathed being alone during those nights. She was glad Wednesday didn’t kick her out the first time she had showed up at the girl’s doorstep, bloodied and tired. (Y/n) didn’t like being vulnerable in front of other people, but with Wednesday it was different. She didn't make her feel weak.

When they entered the showers, Wednesday turned on the lights, dropped the clothes on the sink, and looked up at the other girl, her gaze stern.

“Make sure you get all of the dirt off your hair. I hope you won’t need any help with that, at least.”

(Y/n) smirked, leaning her elbow against the door frame, her haori sliding off her shoulder seductively.

“Hmm, I don’t know… There are some places I probably won’t be able to reach myself…”

Wednesday threw the towel at the taller girl's face and, with a quick jab at the oni’s arm, left the room, her cheeks gaining a barely noticeable color.

When Wednesday raised her hand to knock at (Y/n)’s door, her fist froze mid - air. A huge claw mark was adorning the wood, the scratch seemingly almost powerful enough to tear the door off its hinges, and the ravenette realised it was unlocked.

Grabbing the handle to slowly let herself in, the girl stepped inside quietly, dread pooling at her stomach as a myriad of different anxious thoughts ran through her mind.

“…(Y/n)?”

It was pure chaos inside. It was dark, but the light of the lamps on the street coming from the window was enough to let Wednesday see the mess that (Y/n)’s dorm room was – there were claw marks everywhere, on the walls, on the table, and her chair laid on the floor, broken into pieces. Papers and books were scattered around along with some ceramic shards of what most likely used to be a cup. In the middle of the room, plunged between two floorboards, was the oni's katana. Its scabbard was thrown off to the side, but, thankfully, the blade was unharmed.

The (h/c) – haired girl was sitting at the foot of her bed, face buried in her knees drawn to her chest. She didn’t move an inch when Wednesday called her name, only growling quietly in response.

“Leave.”

Carefully maneuvering around the wooden and glass fragments, Wednesday made her way to the miserable form of the demon, and the oni hissed at her again, raising her head a bit to glare at the unwanted guest, slitted eyes glowing in the dark frighteningly, “I said fucking leave.”

“Don’t you snap at me,” Wednesday scolded softly, unfazed by her attitude, and crouched next to (Y/n), “What happened?”

The girl didn’t answer. She hugged her legs closer to her chest instead, clawed hands gripping her arms painfully.

The ravenette sat down and moved closer, leaning on her palms, and her hand touched something smooth and solid. Feeling around the floor in the darkness, she grabbed the item and raised it to her eyes – it was (Y/n)’s dragon pendant, lace torn in half.

Wednesday carefully reached for the nightstand to leave the golden charm there before moving even closer to the demon, making her flinch like a scared animal when their legs touched. She didn’t speak again. She leaned her head on the oni’s shoulder, cold fingers gently grazing her hand that was still gripping the sleeve of her shirt, and the ravenette’s heart squeezed at the shaky sigh the taller girl let out at the sensation.

Wednesday was seldom ever patient. But she’d stay like this for days, if needed. Only for (Y/n).

Wednesday stared at the clock with exasperation, counting the seconds. The class had ended a few minutes ago, and (Y/n) was supposed to pick her up for lunch. Where was she?

The ravenette prayed to all the gods almighty that the demon would hurry and show up any second, because the predicament she currently found herself in was going to make her snap a neck.

Xavier's neck, to be precise.

As if sitting next to him the whole period wasn't enough, the brunet decided to bother her during the break. He was going on about something Wednesday wasn't even listening to at this point, and the ravenette wished looks could kill so that the young man would drop dead at her feet and quit his pathetic attempts at socializing with her.

"Anyway, are you going somewhere this break? Want to grab lunch together, maybe?" Xavier asked with a grin.

"I'm already going with someone, actually." The ravenette informed without even trying to be subtle with her annoyance.

"Oh, you're on demand, aren't you? Will you ever fit me into that busy schedule of yours? Who are you going with?"

"That's really none of your business, Xavier." She could almost feel a vein throb at her forehead angrily, and Wednesday swore that a second longer and she wouldn't be responsible for-

"Excuse me," Wednesday heard a familiar voice by her side suddenly, and felt a warm hand land on her waist, "Hope I'm not interrupting anything important."

The ravenette looked up to see (Y/n), the demon’s gaze already fixed on her adoringly, mouth stretched in a toothy grin.

"Sorry I took so long, little raven. Weems and I had a talk," she looked at Xavier, her smile instantly becoming tight-lipped, "I'm not too late, am I?"

"You did interrupt something here, (Y/n). We were just having a normal conversation. Not sure if you've ever heard of those in whatever hellish cave you came from." The artist grumbled, obviously not happy to see the demon girl.

The hold the oni had on Wednesday's side tightened and she grit her teeth, lip rising to bare her tusks intimidatingly, "Better watch your mouth before I rip your jaw off."

The young man made a face of disgust at the threat, furrowing his eyebrows, “You should keep that thing on a leash, Addams.”

“Oh, believe me, I’ve tried. She tears them," Wednesday said, stepping into Xavier's personal space with a glare, "Call (Y/n) a thing one more time, and I might just let her have your remains when I'm done with you."

The ravenette grabbed the taller girl by the hand to turn around and lead her away and out of the classroom without another word, and the demon had hearts in her eyes as she stared at the back of Wednesday’s head, smiling like a lovesick fool.

I’m gonna marry her.

It was late in the morning as (Y/n) stood in the quad among her fellow students, worrying her lip between her blunt tusks in a nervous habit. It was the day she had been dreading for the past week –Parents’ Weekend at the Nevermore Academy.

The demon’s appearance was at its best: she had her hair done perfectly, suit jacket and pants freshly ironed, and even her shirt was buttoned up fully, which itself was an unlikely fashion for the oni girl. She had brushed her teeth extra hard and she smelled of good expensive cologne she insisted on drenching herself in before heading out.

Why was the oni feeling so on edge? It wasn’t a test she had to pass in order to keep dating her grumpy dark – haired girlfriend, as she knew Wednesday couldn’t care less about what anyone else thought of their relationship, nevertheless, the urge to impress her parents was kind of there anyway.

A bead of sweat rolled down (Y/n)’s forehead as she raised her hand to fumble with her tie that now seemed to be choking her, fixing her collar for the nth time to make herself look as pristine as possible.

“Stop fidgeting, (Y/n). You look good.”

Wednesday was standing next to the demon girl, completely unbothered, gaze emotionless as she watched (Y/n) writhe in her nervousness.

“I can’t,” the oni grunted in reply, “This damn thing is killing me.”

Wednesday sighed and got on her tip - toes, smacking (Y/n)’s hands away to fix the tie properly, slender fingers sliding under the cloth to tighten it slightly. When she was done, she moved away to take a look, and nodded to herself.

“There. Now quit overthinking. It’ll be fine.” The ravenette pecked the taller girl’s cheek gently to ease her nerves, and went to stand next to her again, “They’ll have to live with my choice, whether they want it or not.”

“Yeah, but… there’s something in having your parents like me on their own terms, don’t you think?”

More and more people were starting to gather in the yard, occupying the seats in front of the microphone where the principal was supposed to address the event. (Y/n) looked into the crowd, her slitted eyes gliding over the faces of the parents before she sighed, “Father’s still not here,” she mumbled, “I hope he doesn’t miss Weems’s speech again. Sometimes I think he does it on purpose every time.”

“Honestly, I can relate.” Wednesday deadpanned, and (Y/n) smiled weakly.

The girls watched the tall blonde woman walk up to stand in front of the crowd, but the oni couldn’t focus on the words she was speaking. Anxiety was clawing at her stomach with every passing second, and her bottom lip started to bleed from the intense nagging of her canines.

“So let’s focus on the positive, and make this Parents’ Weekend our very best yet.” Principal Weems finished with a smile, and the crowd burst into happy applause. Wednesday’s eyes flicked to the side, and she grabbed (Y/n) under her arm, “Come on, the sooner we finish this, the better.”

The demon nodded quickly, taking a deep breath and bracing herself for the worst. God, this was more nerve – wrecking than any exam in the academy.

“Look at this. Some things never change.”

A tall woman in a tight black dress walked into the quad, her gait like that of an elegant ghost as she looked around the yard with a hint of melancholic nostalgia in her eyes. Her hair was dark and long, and it contrasted with her pale complexion in an eerily - beautiful way. She was holding onto a shorter man dressed in a dark striped suit, and his hair and mustache were styled with diligence, and paired with his manners he seemed like a true gentleman.

When the family noticed their child walking over, they smiled, and her father stepped closer with a pleasant grin.

“There she is,” he spoke, adoration and a thick accent lacing his voice, “Oh, how we missed those accusing eyes and youthful sneer!”

Wednesday let go of (Y/n)’s arm to step into her father’s embrace, stiff as a board. Then the man's gaze flicked to the demon, "Have you brought a friend, dear?"

The short girl hesitated for a moment, as if embarrassed, and then spoke up, “This is (Y/n). She is my… paramour.” There was a small dust of color on her pale cheeks.

The man seemed taken aback for a moment, before he smiled again, obviously pleased with the news.

“Oh, how wonderful! I’m so glad to know someone has slithered their way into my little deathtrap’s dark heart,” he held his hand out, “My name is Gomez Addams.”

Taking the man’s palm into hers, (Y/n) shook it and smiled back at him politely, “I’m (Y/n) (L/n). It’s very nice to meet you, Mr. Addams.”

The older Addams stepped away and back to his wife, and the woman looked the oni up and down before smirking, a small mischievous spark in her half – lidded eyes, “We’ve been dying to meet you, (Y/n). My dear daughter has painted quite a picture. I’m Morticia. I suppose I have you to thank for Wednesday’s slightly better than grim mood she’s been in for the past few weeks. It’s a worthy achievement, I’d say.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Addams. It’s a pleasure.”

“So,” the woman turned to Wednesday, “Tell us everything.”

“Since you’ve abandoned me, I’ve been hunted, haunted, and the target of an attempted murder. And then she got stuck with me.” Wednesday deadpanned, and Gomez sighed dreamily, grabbing at his heart dramatically.

“Oh, Nevermore, I love you so!”

(Y/n) smiled warmly at the way a small ghost of an upturn touched Wednesday’s lips when she spoke to her father. It seemed that, behind the mask of disdain she held when she spoke of her parents, she still loved them dearly.

"My little storm cloud has mentioned you're good with a blade. Do you fence, (Y/n)?"

The demon girl was sitting next to Gomez at the table, leaving Wednesday to have her mother – daughter talk as she conversed with the short man.

"Uh, not exactly. I'm a swordswoman by my father's legacy." (Y/n) replied.

"Oh, so you must be a worthy opponent, hm? I hope we do get a chance to duel this weekend. To the death, of course." Gomez laughed, baring his gapped teeth in a friendly smile.

"I'd love to, Mr. Addams,” the oni smiled back, “Wednesday has been a fencing champion here at Nevermore since the day she arrived,” (Y/n) said proudly, tactfully choosing not to mention the Bianca incident, “She stings so fast and sharp, like a deadly black widow. You’re a wonderful teacher, Mr. Addams.”

“You flatter me, (Y/n),” the older Addams brushed the compliment off with a teasing smile, “But thank you. I’d say it’s mostly mia piccolo corvo’s merit. Her talent is unremarkable.”

Morticia and Wednesday watched the pair from where they were striding through the yard, and the woman smiled at the scene, “I never would have guessed you had a thing for demonic creatures, my lovely storm cloud. You inherited my good taste, I suppose.”

“I’m not as shallow as to choose the people I keep close based on their appearance, mother,” Wednesday said, watching her father hit (Y/n)’s back as he laughed at something she had said, “(Y/n) is much more than what she looks like.”

Morticia hummed, “She makes you happy. That’s what’s important to me.”

The smaller ravenette raised her eyebrows and looked up at her mother incredulously, not expecting such a response.

“But I have to say, her looks are certainly fit for a perfect Addams family member.”

Wednesday’s cheeks reddened at the statement, and she looked away, gaze landing back at the oni, a small smile on her lips, “Don’t be delusional.”

#florals.ficrecs #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday netflix #wednesday x reader #wednesday 2022

[floraltypes]

so cute and so sweet

maybe. (john munch x benson! reader)

the one with the age gap between olivia’s sister and john.

requested by anon! TW! mentions of alcohol, social anxiety, and medication. wc: 1.6k a/n! i rewrote this instead of working on my two final papers. oops

“Mel, I am so fucked,” y/n Benson complained to her boss and closest friend before taking another sip of her beer. “Every time I even consider telling Munch how I feel, I stumble over my words and can’t even look him in the eyes. Maybe I need to up my dosage,” she sighed, referring to her social anxiety disorder. The forensic scientist had been diagnosed at an early age, having trouble expressing her feelings and rarely made friends. It also did not help that her mother was a drunk. Because of her condition, y/n often had a hard time confessing romantic feelings towards possible significant others. Her most recent crush happened to be one of the detectives in her sister’s squad, John Munch.

“Want me to play mediator? I’m sure I could drop a few hints to your silver fox,” Melinda smirked, watching y/n become flustered. Although she was teasing, Melinda had no problem playing matchmaker for her friend. She normally would not interfere with her friends’ love lives but the ME had seen y/n interact with John. Melinda rather return to her night shifts at the morgue as a rookie forensic pathologist. Besides she had more than a small feeling that John returned her feelings. 

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#svu #law and order svu #john munch #john munch x reader #florals.ficrecs

[floraltypes]

too too cute !!!! as i thought, you wrote this perfectly <33 he’s so in love and sappy and it’s just such a enjoyable read.

𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒.

pairings ; chandler bing x female!reader

summary ; chandler goes to monica and rachel's apartment the day after his first date with y/n, only to hear she's on her way over.

warnings ; lots of chandler's pov within third perspective, includes the whole group, fluffy and scared chandler.

word count ; 2.8k

additional notes ; this came to me before a nap two days ago and i needed to write it so bad!

Waking up feeling refreshed was rare for Chandler Bing. Usually, he awoke to the sound of Joey’s snoring in the next room or his alarm clock ringing for work, rubbing his hardly-awake aching eyes and forcing a shirt over his frame to start his day.

Today was much different. Sure, it was a Sunday with no work, but he woke up feeling as happy as ever, a permanent smile upon his face and his heart feeling full while butterflies continue to invade his stomach. Still to dissipate after last night.

Y/n was the cause of this. One of his best friends, part of the group he considers family more-so than the parents he grew up with. One of his favourite people in his life and someone he was falling in love with, greatly.

It was only a few days before that Chandler braved himself enough to tell her, tell her how infatuated he was that it was almost scary to him. He had never felt like this with another person before. And last night Chandler had took her on a date, since she was quick to reply with her returned feelings, to Chandler’s shock.

Chandler remembers how tightly Y/n held his hand despite how clammy his palm must’ve been, or the light-hearted giggles whenever he pulled his collar from how tight it felt while stuttering over another sentence. Or how she smiled against his lips when he kissed her goodnight by her front door.

They were crossing a line, from friendship into something more, and while it was what Chandler wanted, he was still horrendously nervous when it came to it. He didn’t want to mess anything up between both of them and then affect the group.

But the feeling of Y/n’s lips against his proven far too addictive that Chandler was extra willing to try, desperate to feel her kiss again and form what they had into a special bond he hoped would last.

He didn’t have a great track record when it came to relationships, breaking up with each women whenever he got too scared of the commitment, and using any little flaw they had as the reason for bailing. Y/n was different, Chandler already knew her completely. Every flaw and indifference in her life, every quirk and hyper fixation. Each only made Chandler fall in love with her more.

And Chandler knew he would never treat Y/n like he has his previous girlfriends. God forbid he would ever be stupid enough to mess things up with her when she’s the best thing in his life. She makes him feel seen, laughs at all his jokes, helped him quit smoking and makes him never want to go back, loves all the movies he does, and cuddles with him, squished on the one chair after she’s had her heart broken.

No matter how bad Chandler was at comforting someone, unable to find the right words to help support, Y/n always went to him. Out of her six friends, it was always Chandler she went to for comfort. And he never understood it until now, how they were everything to one another.

Glancing at his alarm, Chandler’s eyes nearly pop when realising it’s reaching midday. He was usually an early bird, waking up before everyone else to get ready and start his working day and with the routine it meant most weekends he was still up early.

At least earlier than Joey.

Sure, he walked Y/n home last night just after midnight and then went a long walk himself before returning home, but waking up at midday was a stretch for Chandler. So, he’s quick to get out of bed and change.

Joey wasn’t even home, most likely at Monica and Rachel’s apartment having a late breakfast while Ross reads the newspaper and Phoebe chats in his ear, all likely to wonder why Chandler’s still to appear.

He pairs his beige trousers with a shirt and stripey sweater. Spending an extra few minutes on brushing his teeth and making sure his hair looked perfect in case Y/n dropped by Monica’s at any point. The smile on his face yet to falter.

The group turn to the front door when it slams, Monica refilling the coffee pot while Ross, Rachel, and Joey sit by the kitchen table with aimless chatter. Phoebe rustles with a card packet on the sofa.

They all observe as Chandler walks in with a slight spring in his step, one hand stuffed in his pocket with a grin upon his face while he speaks, “morning!” They all glance at each other, no joke or sarcastic tone as of yet, an unusual happiness radiating off him that they only guessed came from the date last night.

“Look who’s finally up,” Ross says, taking the last sip of his coffee mug and shaking his newspaper when it flops over. Joey nudges him before looking back to his friend, eyebrows wagging, “well, you did get back late last night.”

Chandler pulls a face at him, shaking his head disapprovingly before walking over to the counter by the door, pushing the key dish away before sitting atop it, facing them all as he speaks, “nothing like that happened.”

“You’re smile says otherwise,” Monica teases, from beside the kitchen window. Chandler looks to her before he falters to speak, unsure with where to start, “I just- Y/n was great, it was—” he splutters over himself.

“Good night?” Rachel asks. “Good night? It was the best night.” Chandler finally finds the words to express, taking it further as he thinks back to the best first date of his life, “she’s so great. We had dinner and she gave me her mushrooms because she knows I like them. We talked the entire night, right up until the restaurant was closing and we had be told to leave.”

They are all fond of the change in Chandler, it was unusual to see him so happy and upbeat, lacking in his sarcastic comments which could be tiring within each response. He lets out a chuckle as he thinks back to the night, the waiter coming over and pulling them out of their reverie for them to see they were the only customers left.

Y/n fought to split half the bill with him, leaning over to pry his credit card away from his hand while he uses his free one to usher hers away. Both of them laughing fondly while the waiter keeps a straight face, unamused by their antics and snatching the card from Chandler before they made their way out.

“I walked her home, and we ended up spending more time at her front door, just talking — I never knew two people could find so much to talk about — and then I kissed her goodnight,” a blush arises on Chandler’s cheek as he admits he kissed her and they all let out little ‘woo’s in response, Joey leaning back in his chair to pat his friend’s knee.

“Well, Y/n sounded just as excited on the phone.” Chandler’s expression dropped into shock, Monica turning back to the table to pour more coffee into each friends mugs, “want a cup, Chandler?” she asks but Chandler is too caught up in her previous comment.

“S-she called here?” asks Chandler, Monica’s eyes fleeting to the side, coffee pot frozen in her hand as she airily chuckles, confused, “yeah, she phones every morning, why?”. Chandler runs his hands over the top of his hair, right through the strands he perfected because even though he made sure they were perfect for Y/n to see, he didn’t process that he’ll have to see her the day after their date.

Chandler jumps from his spot to stand in front of her, hands on either of her shoulders, “what did she say?”. Monica tuts, the others chuckling at the old-Chandler returning, the awkward and weird version, “she said you were cute and that you kissed her.”

“That’s all?” Chandler asks and before he can feel relieved, Monica continues, “apart from that, she’s headed over.”

That’s what he was afraid of hearing. Of course she was coming over, she was just as close a friend to everyone as Chandler was. “Oh dear God,” Chandler moves away from his friend and covers his red-beat face with his hands, each of the girls look confused as they watch him go from loved-up and sappy to a nervous wreck in a matter of seconds.

“What did I miss?” Rachel asks, while Ross and Joey only smile awkwardly, “it’s the day after their date,” Joey begins but defensively Rachel continues before he can fully explain, “yeah, so?”.

Chandler pulls his hands away before landing on the back of the chair Joey’s sitting on, looking down at Rachel with a newfound fear in his eyes, “she’s my friend! my best friend, even! Normally the day after the date you don’t see the girl for a few days, especially not the day after.”

“Not unless they’ve slept over if you know—” before Joey can continue in his flirty manner, Chandler cuts in, “I gotta get outta here.” The girls ‘pshh’ in disbelief of the way he’s acting, overdramatic and a little bit rude.

Ross tries to level with him as Chandler turns around to leave, “suck it up, this is Y/n we’re talking about. If you’re the only one not here she’ll think something’s wrong.” Chandler’s still turning towards the door, maybe he’ll leave her a message once he’s back in his own apartment and say he’s sorry he missed her today. Maybe he’ll wait until she’s home later and then they can talk over the phone.

However, before the million thoughts can dissipate into one idea, the door is opening in front of him and in Y/n walks. Chandler has a hand over his mouth while his thoughts ran wild, but the moment she’s in sight, it drops like each worried thought.

She wears a long trench coat and pale coloured scarf to battle the cold New York winter weather, wide-leg trousers with boots peeking out the bottom and Chandler is simply swooning within that moment that he can’t think straight anymore.

He’s kissed this girl. He still can’t believe it.

Y/n’s eyes land on Chandler first and she gives him a warm smile before greeting everyone else, who replies lightly but way too focused on watching the pair interact. She unravels her scarf before shrugging off her coat to place on the hooks by the door, if it were any other day Chandler would’ve helped her, but his feet were glued to the floor.

She looks back to Chandler, entirely delicate and earnest as she walks over. Her hand gently ghosts over his hip while whispering a soft, “hey, Chandler.” Leaning up, she places a kiss to his cheek before moving away from him.

Chandler’s frozen, hand reaching up so his fingers touch the spot she just kissed before turning to the rest of his friend’s once again. Y/n sat by Phoebe, quietly enquiring the girl of her cards who pulls her curious expression away from Chandler to amuse Y/n instead.

The others watch Chandler from behind Y/n’s spot, Joey nodding encouragingly towards the girl while Monica interjects from leaning against the counter, feeling some tension across the room, “coffee, Y/n?”.

“Coffee would be great, thank you, Mon,” Y/n speaks up in her oh-so-sweet voice that makes Chandler think he could melt into a puddle of sappiness and pure love. Compared to the chattiness from them both last night to the quiet on this noon, Chandler knows it’s only because he has to get used to it.

Y/n and him.

Not that he didn’t want that, he had been thinking about Y/n and him for God-knows how long, Chandler had never wanted a relationship as badly as he wanted one with Y/n. But they were friends, and he had never dated a friend before, and it was terrifying to him as much as he loved the idea.

What are they right now? Still just friends? Friends that date? or just dating but happen to be best friends?

It seems anytime Y/n makes eye contact with him that his worrying stops seize so he can focus on how amazing she is. Since his second wave of worries fall the moment she turns to look at him again, that kind smile addicting.

Joey stands from his spot, the lovesick gazes from one another tiring since he knows Chandler is a wimp to do anything about it. He stands behind Chandler, a hand on either of his shoulders before pushing his friend towards the couch, ushering him while the others silently gesture to Y/n so Chandler can make a move.

He clears his throat awkwardly, the sweater added with the situation making Chandler feel overheated when he looks to them all scared before sitting down beside Y/n. He tries to look casual, leaning back on the seat and his arm leaning against the back of the sofa, the space behind Y/n.

Y/n continues to look up at him, his awkward stance somehow not scaring her away as Chandler would expect. Instead, she moves slightly from Phoebe’s side and into Chandler’s, thigh brushing his and her shoulder tucking under his underarm.

There go the butterflies over Chandler’s stomach again at the feeling of Y/n so close to him.

Finally finding the words to speak, Chandler clears his throat again before asking, “hey, uh- did you, uh- sleep well last night?. The gang roll their eyes from behind Y/n’s head at the question, Phoebe looking at Chandler in sympathy before standing from her spot to leave them alone on the sofa.

Before Chandler can curse himself for sounding weird, Y/n’s giggling at how nervous he seems, finding his attitude so cute and so very Chandler. “I slept great, thank you,” her eyes never fail to pull from his, addicting, as her giggle lowers, “did you get home okay?”.

God, she’s so pretty. Chandler thinks before mustering up an answer.

He scratches the tiny stubble upon his jaw, a quirk Y/n had took notice of him doing when he’s nervous and awkward, “yeah, fine, fine,” Chandler replies and his eyes crinkle when he smiles so sweetly, Y/n’s expression matching, “good.”

They can feel their friends eyes on them, so intense that Y/n can’t help but giggle again as she breaks the ice by holding her hand to his jaw gently before quickly leaning in to peck his lips. It’s small and finishes as quick as it happens, Chandler trying to lean towards her after she pulls away.

His mouth agapes, eyes wide and surprised that Y/n was that bold to do it in front of the gang, but more than happy she did. Y/n’s hand then trails from his jaw to the shoulder of his arm rested behind her, fingers poking the sweater material endearingly while Chandler watches.

“You’re awfully tense. Are you okay?” Y/n asks and Chandler is practically swooning at her feet from the affection she’s delivering him, her hand flat and rubbing his arm so lovingly that he wants to bury his head against her neck and keep her as close as he possibly can.

His cheeks are red and mind feels hazy and light, the worries from earlier long gone and feeling less awkward from the moment her lips pecked his, the muscles beneath her touch relaxing. “Yeah, y’know, just went home and lifted some weights last night,” Chandler’s smile grows when Y/n laughs at his sarcasm.

That was the Chandler she knew, and the Chandler she was gravely in love with.

“Is that your post-date routine?” Y/n asks and Chandler outwardly laughs while leaning further into her touch, his friends watching him fall back into the sappy nature he was at first. “Nah, my post-date routine consists of a pit of worrying if I did something wrong and thinking of how pretty you looked in that dress while Joey’s snores keep me up.”

With that Y/n giggles even more, face close to his when she replies, “well, you better get used to that.” Chandler’s nose nudges Y/n’s before he tilts to the side, “more than happy to,” he says under his breath before their lips connect in a longer, more tender kiss than before.

“Alright, alright, get a room, you guys,” they pull away at the sound of Joey’s voice while Monica and Rachel lean over to smack his arm. Chandler looking up while Y/n digs her head into his neck, Chandler forgetting how awkward he was before as he only pulls her comfortingly into his side.

He will definitely get used to this.

⤸

taglist form . the library . chandler bing masterlist

taglist in reblog <3 please remember to support content creators and reblog.

#chandler bing x reader #chandler bing x y/n #chandler bing fluff #chandler bing imagine

[floraltypes]

Off Guard

pairing - cedric diggory x reader

summary - the time you allow cedric to get to know you

“It’s cold,” he opened his hand, large palm pushing back small hairs that seemed to be flailing around in the wind. His yellow scarf was draped around his neck, tightly wrapped around until it was snuggly rested inside his jacket. The cold had caused the ends of his nose to already begin to change in color.

Honestly, Cedric didn’t mind the cold, with it came beautiful new scenery of the green outside covered in a pure white. The snow easily coated most of the area, offering new entertainment and reminders that break was to come to the students.

The mention of break arriving was such a hefty reminder that he had two sickles and four knuts resting in a velvet bag at the top of his trunk. The bag had a embroidered CD on its front, representing his initials, and was once filled with sweets that you’d gifted him after a exceptional quidditch match. His smile was never so wide, and his hands never wanted to wrap themselves around you as much as in that moment.

“The cold is refreshing,” you hummed, sitting on the large windowsill as he slowly moved over to you. His steps were hesitant and eventually he mirrored the position your were in. Your knees were crushed to your chest, arms wrapped around to hug them tighter, just staring out at the bare trees with a transfiguration book discarded on the ground. He followed, trying to crush his long legs to his chest.

Cedric allowed his feet to be a few centimeters from your own, the tips of his boots nearly touching yours. “Why are you out here? You scared that friend, Luna. She came rumbling into the classroom!”

“I don’t know why,” you whispered, hands moving to stretch in front of you as Cedric took the opportunity to (finally) take one into his grasp. Your mouth opened wide, staring down at his actions as his thumb smoothed out the skin on the back of your hand.

“Why won’t you ever tell me what’s wrong?” his voice was soft, eyes filled with honesty while his movements never faded. With a small inch of his feet, his boots were now touching the tips of yours.

“There isn’t anything to tell,” you mumbled, tapping your own thumb against the hand that was connected with yours. “You worry too much, don’t worry so much about me.”

He took a soft breath from across and stood up. Your hand dropped from his grip and your shoe no longer prodded at the ends of his own. You turned your body so your feet dangled off the ledge of the window-sill and he swiftly moved to stand in front of you.

“Stop that,” he whispered, shaking his head and pink cheeks. His cold fingers moved to address the scarf that was handing idly on one shoulder. Cedric moved the fabric to be wrapped around your neck and tightened it. “You’re going to get a cold,” he mumbled while his fingers worked carefully at maneuvering the fabric around your neck.

“Maybe then I won’t have to deal with those annoying first years.”

He laughed, eyes lighting back up and nodded his head in a fast motion. “This years are something else,” the fellow prefect agreed. “But you’re so good with the kids, helping them with classes, you’re a perfect prefect.”

“Not like you,” it was another whispered statement, one that caused Cedric’s eyebrows to furrow in confusion. Soon after noticing the crease it was gone and you felt a chilly palm connect with your (now) heating cheeks.

“Don’t,” he hummed, staring at you with more adoration than he normally allowed to be seen. His eyes moved down towards your lips, parted slightly and taking in slow breaths. The air that was exiting your mouth was seen between the tight space separating you both, puffs of air from the both of your breaths intermingled with one another.

“Diggory.”

“Yes, de-” quickly it registered in the hufflepuffs head that you weren’t the one to mutter that statement. Your lips still being parted and eyes widening comically at the unwarranted appearance. His hands immediately went to his sides and speedily turned around to face the person.

“What are you doing? Break was only ten minutes and then you never come back!” his friend exclaimed, wrapping his fingers around Cedric’s wrist before pulling him back into the direction he came in.

A final quidditch match was in session the day after Cedric left practice to see you. The wind was furious and it’s effects could be seen by the players mobility. You watched from your houses stadium, small chattering in the background filled with exciting squeals and paranoid worries.

You were granted great seats, standing near the front of the box shape area due to your position of being a prefect. The two teams practiced down below, warming up against the ferocious weather. Despite you gaining some comfort in your now huddled position, a small frown on the field lead your feet to leave.

It wasn’t something you had planned with much thought, luckily before your feet reached their final destination you were caught in the act, a fellow Ravenclaw yelling your name.

“Have you come to wish us luck?” he flew over to your side, eager grin. “Our favorite prefect granting little ole’ us some luck?” his lips grinned eagerly at your image as more of the teammates made their way over. “How honored are we?” he turned behind to the others who nodded in agreement.

“Good luck,” you looked over at the large group of ecstatic quidditch players, bundled in gear and a new shine present in their eyes. Though the sport was never something that interested you so much, moments like these did, just being able to sense the pure emotions dripping from the fellow players. “You all will do amazing.”

“And us?” a charming voice spoke up, yellow bombarding the deep purple hues that surrounded your vision. In came the signature smile and kind eyes that were directed sweetly over to you. “Where is our luck?” diggory questioned.

“We are opponents today, so no wishes,” you hummed, hearing laughter resound around the immediate area. “When you lose this match, maybe then you’ll receive a ‘good job’,” a large smirk graced itself onto your features as the man just reached a large hand down to lightly flick your forehead.

“You just watch l/n, the competition is on,” he exclaimed, raising his broom high in his grip before turning it over to hop on and ride away. “I’ll make you say your praises!” he taunted while flying around in the air.

It was clear, throughout the rest of the match Cedric Diggory zoomed around with much fury and excitement, easily succeeding in his position and pushing his team towards the win. The yellow-gowned students sent loud cheers throughout the stadium as ones decorated in purple merely stood with small smiles and quiet whisperings.

You journeyed down to where the players stood, a sympathetic grin on your lips as pats among the backs were cut off with two long hands wrapping themselves around your waist and pulling you close. Soon enough your feet were dangling in the air as the Ravenclaw players glared up at your frazzled image.

“Wha- Diggory!” you yelled, turning yourself around as carefully as you could to hug his waist with much strength. “I don’t like flying! Godric we are very high!”

“Look how pretty everything looks from up here,” he whispered near your ear, leaning his head down to whisper and zooming a bit more away to get a full view of the stadium. “Look at the smiles on those kids faces,” he lifted his hand to point to the Ravenclaws laughing away with a newfound glee. “They finally get to see their prefect off her guard.”

“This isn’t so funny for me,”

“Because you’re off guard, that was the point,” he chuckled, his other hand leaving the handle of the broom. “No hands!”

“Cedric!” your grabbed his hand, pulling it onto the wood so he could return his grip. “Don’t-”

“You say that a lot, but, I just wish to know more about you l/n. Is that so bad?” he begun to lower you two back to the ground except the words continued to echo inside your head, his question, his secret.

You couldn’t focus on the cheers of your team, all rushing over with little remarks as he just exited the scene, smile whisking itself back onto his features. It didn’t help the odd feeling in your stomach, the one bubbling more and more at his actions that your feet soon enough led you off the field. Slipping past fellow students in the halls you heightened your speed to catch up with him, all until you could now grip his own wrist and pull him away.

He voiced your last name as a question, evidently startled, “Are you alright?” a hand rested on the side of your shoulder, those sparkling eyes looking upon you with concern once again.

He moved to flick the skin of your forehead before a hand gripped the ends of his scarf, pulling him down, as your lips were lightly placed on his. In a fleeting moment the kiss was over, your lips still puckered, breath heavy.

Then there was laughter once again, filling the large room, resounding so loudly in your ear as he just softly leaned forward once again. A warm palm crept to your colder cheek, comforting the skin with a light rub of his large thumb. “You’re very surprising, thank you,” his plush lips caught yours, a soft and angelic feeling that kept the bubbles boiling in your stomach but now welcomed.

Cedric Diggory was always worried, always wanted to know about you, and finally you were prepared to let him.

#harry potter x reader #harry potter imagine #cedric diggory #cedric x y/n #cedric x you #cedric diggory x you #cedric diggory x female reader #cedric diggory x reader #harry potter x y/n #harry potter x you #harry potter fanfic

[floraltypes]

ᴄᴇᴅʀɪᴄ ᴅɪɢɢᴏʀʏ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

 ➟ Off Guard