#I mean it's on Tuesday so almost. same thing but my plan was to study the day before and jsjskdjdjdbfjrkrkb I have another day bithc????? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

universitypenguin · 3 years

Text

Steve Rogers - Sex Headcanon

Warnings: Smut, Light bondage, NSFW, 18+

Word Count: Too long, as usual.

First of all, Steve Rogers loves sex.

He’s a bit touch starved after waiting for the right woman, but when he finds you and things move into the physical affection stage, he’s all over you.

During sex, Steve loves that he can pick you up with little effort

He likes doing it against the wall

Standing, almost any position

Likes that he can hold your hips still even when you start to squirm when he hits the right spots

In general, holding onto your hips, your butt, and even when he gets to curl his hands around to grasp your inner thighs, Steve is thrilled. Captain America is an ass man.

He loves your legs too, though.

Likes to pin you down for prone bone.

He hates to admit how much using his strength against you turns him on.

But you love it too and when he realizes that you like the same positions he does, it gets more intense.

Like, he’ll pick you up while he’s standing and lift you to his shoulders, draping your legs over his shoulders to eat you out.

When Steve learns that you not only can orgasm multiple times, but that you enjoy it, he starts to let go a bit more.

At first he was careful in bed. He kept things slow and gentle, not being entirely sure of his strength. But once he gets comfortable…

He goes feral

It starts when you ask him to tie you up. The idea is only familiar to him from Tony and Thor’s jokes about 50 Shades of Gray.

Steve hates 50 Shades of Gray. He thinks Christian is an ass who doesn’t respect women.

But back to the topic: bondage. He’s willing to hear you out about why you want that. And eventually, he says yes.

The conversation about bondage goes like this:

You’ve never done bondage before. Despite having several past relationships and experiences, you’ve never trusted a man like that. Erotica tastes aside, reality is a beast of its own.

And without the feeling of complete safety that Steve Rogers inspires in your heart, you won’t have even brought it up.

But you trust him without reservations.

The idea of bondage for you is totally psychological. To have your hands restrained and be blind folded takes the pressure off of you. Sometimes your mind starts going during sex and it ruins your enjoyment.

It’s not like you’re thinking about the groceries or anything, just that you start planning your next move. Should you kiss him now, or do you need to moan louder? Does your moaning sound like a dying cat? Maybe you should keep it down.

So the blind fold is important.

And you don’t want to be able to move because you’d try to plan that too. Sometimes you put a lot of pressure on situations to be perfect. Perfect because you made it perfect, you mean. Your expectations are of yourself.

This is one reason you hate not being able to achieve orgasm. That matters to Steve a lot and he always but your pleasure first. The man is selfless and sweet. And when your mind decides to shut down the orgasm buttons, you hate disappointing him.

Steve is sold on the idea of bondage once he understands that it’s only an option because you feel safe with him. And he likes being the only person you’d trust to be this vulnerable with. All the 50 Shades objections vanish for him once you explain that part.

When you tell him that your struggles orgasming sometimes are from your own pressures to be good in bed, he gets it.

He loves that about you, your desire to please him and make things good. It motivates him to accept the offer of bondage.

Because it makes perfect sense that being forced to be the recipient and having control stripped away would fix that for you.

Steve says that you’ll have to let him make the plan. Which is *so* Steve Rogers it’s almost funny.

On a random Tuesday you get dinner with a friend and come home late. The lights are off which is weird because you expected Steve to be home. When you step inside you call out for him but no reply. Kicking off your shoes you wander to the kitchen and when you reach for the light switch, a hand grabs your wrist.

You give a small scream as a body presses you into the wall. Then you recognize the feel and the scent of his aftershave.

Steve has you pinned to the wall, wrists on either side of your head, feet spread apart and his big body caging you in.

It’s happening. It’s so happening. And you feel thrilled and scared and outrageously excited.

He’s excited too, you can feel it pressing into your back. The man’s been planning and fantasizing, clearly.

“Do you still want this, honey?”

His first words to you are the reason that you want this. It warms your heart at the same time your panties are growing wet.

“Yes, Steve. So much. Please.”

He rolls his hips, pressing his body against you and you can’t control the moan that passes your lips.

“Red means we stop. Yellow is slow down. If I’m going to do something that I think you need to consent to, I’ll ask ‘is this okay?’ and you’re going to say “Green” if you want it. Understand?

“Pick a safe word, doll.”

Eagle is your safe word. Your mind just liked the whole patriotic motif, you supposed.

Once the ground rules are laid out, Steve turns you around and with a tap on the curve of your ass, signals you to jump up.

With your legs around his waist and arms curled around his neck, he carried you upstairs to the bed.

Blindfold goes on first. Then cuffs that are lined with something soft that feels like shearling.

You know without asking that he picked them because he thought handcuffs would be too aggressive. Again, your heart flips.

“I’m going to push you, baby. I want you to wring every bit of enjoyment you can out of this. I’m going to make you come hard. You with me on that?”

You’re with him. You’ve waited a long time to try this.

“I have a plan for aftercare too,” he says.

And that’s your first hint that he’s about to go feral on you like he sometimes does when he’s keyed up from a mission.

Steve Rogers has freaking stamina for days. The man could kill you with sex if he wanted to.

(His sex drive is high… all that waiting for the right girl makes a man horny)

He undoes the halter tie of your dress and pull it down, slipping it over your legs.

He uses his mouth first. And it’s frustrating that he left your panties on.

(The outfit was something he’d suggested. You’d thought he just liked the sundress and had been complimented when he’d said you’d look great in it today. Now it was clear he’d been planning all day. Probably longer.)

He’s been planning since the night you told him two weeks ago. Before the conversation was even over. You felt safe enough with him to ask for such a private and vulnerable fantasy and that turned him on in a mental way he can’t even explain.

So he starts by teasing you.

He kisses your mouth, slow and sensual. His tongue flicks against yours but never quite for as long as you’d like. And he knows how you like it by this point in the relationship. So you’re well aware he’s teasing you.

His mouth begins to wander to your neck and he laps at the sensitive spot. Your thighs clench in response. You’re soaked now, so wet it’s a little bit embarrassing.

He finally finds your breast with his mouth, taking an aching bud in his mouth and drawing on it. Softly. Gently. Lapping and teasing without the friction you needed to enjoy it.

Your breath came in pants now and you spread your legs to open yourself to encourage him to continue. Because there’s somewhere else that really needs attention.

Instead he turns to the other breast and gives it the same attention. Slower. And softer. Stroking with his tongue until your nipple was painfully tight.

His hand trailed up to cup the breast he wasn’t sucking on. The pad of his thumb made teasing circles and you moaned, arching your back into his mouth.

He chuckled and released the aching bud with a pop. Fingertips swirled the nipple he’d just abandoned, coating it with his saliva. He pinch it just right and your hips jerked.

Arousal was a living breathing thing inside your body now, clawing at your lower belly, turning breath into unsteady pants.

“How are you doing, baby?”

The bastard knew you were dying. Sweat was starting to burst from your pores. Your entire body was hot with need.

“Please, Steve…”

“Mmmhh? What do you need, doll?”

“I need your to touch me.”

“Where?”

“My pussy. I’m so wet for you, please touch me. Get inside of me.”

He purred. This was the moment you realized that you’d created a monster. Because he was getting off on the power play.

(This wasn’t actually when the monster was officially created. No, that would be later when you were done and he got to see your dazed face and tear filled eyes from the magnitude of what he’d drawn your body.)

He let go of the nipple and flattened his palm on your ribs, sliding it down inch by inch until he paused on your low belly.

He toyed with the band of your panties.

“You’re wet for me? Does this needy pussy want my fingers or my mouth?”

“Both!!”

He laughed again. But he went ahead, so it was worth it.

And heaven help you, there were fireworks. The bondage was working wonders for your mental need to be out of control. But Steve took it higher when he forced your legs wide and pinned them to the mattress.

And while spin class workouts did amazing things for your thighs, nothing topped super soldier strength. You were stuck. Legs pushed flat to the bed, hands cuffed to the head board and nothing stopping the extremity turned on man with his head between your legs.

He lied about giving your his mouth and fingers. At first he only used his mouth on your clit, licking around it, touching the tip of his tongue over it in slow flicks, then finally, finally, sucking.

Your body seized at the shock of pleasure, white hot and raw jerking through nerve endings frayed from lack of fulfillment.

He knew what pitch he needed to hear you moan at before he added his fingers.

He knew it because Steve Rogers is a man who studies all the angles of a situation and knows his enemy. Or in this case, knows his lover.

He rubs at your G-spot with the pad of his finger and you scream.

Your head falls back on the pillow and tears start to flow because it’s not enough.

“More, oh, please. Steve, I need-“

He growls. “I know what you need, babydoll. And I’ll give it to you when you’re a good girl and you hold back that orgasm for me. I don’t want you to come yet. Don’t you dare come. If you do I’m going to have to take you over my knee.”

Just the idea of him spanking you almost makes you lose it.

He backs off the intensity. And you start to sob from the brutal frustration of being taken so high and left without release.

His name begins to fall from your lips like a litany, as you start to beg.

“Steve! Please, I want to come!”

“Not yet. Hold back. You be my good girl and hold back. I don’t want to spank that sweet behind until it’s red, but I’ll do it.”

Your scream is gargled by a wave of pleasure that makes your whole body roll as it rips through you from head to toe.

“Let me come, damn it!”

Smack. He’s light and there’s a sting on your right inner thigh.

“Hold. It. Back!”

Screams become sobs. You can’t hold still. You’re fighting the restraints and trying to move but he’s not allowing it. All you can do is clench around his fingers and cry.

“Come for me, baby.”

Release floods you in a second when he gives permission.

The cord of tension snaps. Your muscles lock. The scream you felt building is nowhere to be found. Your voice disappears in the violence of the orgasm. It’s totally silent as your body takes control.

Your channel clamps down around his fingers. The orgasm pulses through your body like being set on fire.

Then you scream. And the muscles that had gone stiff suddenly quiver with release.

If Steve hadn’t held you down through it you’d have been snapping your hips and arching into the sensations, away from them.

He keeps going, pushing you through it until the orgasm is finished.

Then you cry.

Honestly crying, because of the intensity of the release.

You’d expected to get off. You hadn’t guessed that you would get obliterated by the world’s most intense orgasm.

Steve immediately crawls up and takes off the blind fold.

“It’s okay, doll. I’m here. You’re okay, you’re safe. Hold on to me.”

You move, trying to reciprocate when his arms go around you, but they’re still cuffed.

This makes you cry harder.

Steve rips them open, letting you free.

And then you’re in his arms and you can cry properly.

He rolls over with you in his arms, one arm tight around your waist, the other cupping the back of your head.

What shocks you is that he’s not nervous, apologizing, or asking if you’re hurt. He’s petting you and whispering sweet nothings in your ear.

“It’s okay, baby. Let it out. I’m right here, not goin’ anywhere. Hold on to me, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”

The warm hand moving over your back is a delicious comfort. Almost as good as being held to the strong chest by arms thicker than most people’s legs.

When the storm of emotions passes, you blink up as Steve, a bit confused.

His smile is gentle and his eyes are filled with warmth.

“I did my research. You came down from that hard, didn’t you?”

Your answering “yeah,” is slurred.

He kisses your forehead. If you weren’t already boneless from your release, that would have finished you off.

“You were such a good girl for me. I can’t wait to do this again.”

With a tired smile you arch an eyebrow.

“But we can’t be done. I haven’t had you inside of me yet, soldier.”

Steve’s eyes go wide at the remark and you smirk.

“I still need you to fuck me, baby. I need to feel you finish on top of me and collapse into my arms. Please.”

You said please. And if he didn’t get assist a lady who needed his help, what kind of a hero was he?

#steve rogers #captain america #headcanon #smut #steve rogers smut #avengers #lemon #lemon rambles #chris evans #reader #steve rodgers x reader

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sourwulf · 3 years

Note

hii i love ur writings! can i request an imagine where the reader is allison’s cousin who moved to beacon hills and stiles has heart eyes on her since the first time he saw her? thank you!

༄ word count — 1.2k

፨ characters — stiles stilinski

☓ tw — none

⊹ cw — none

✎ masterlist

─

you roamed the halls of your new school, searching for your locker. 1108 was the number you were looking for, and when you found it, you let out a relieved sigh. you looked at the paper in your hand at the combination of 18 - 24 - 10, hanging your backpack on the hook inside.

moving halfway across the country to california wasn’t on your agenda for the year. you had to leave your friends, your house, and everything else for “your protection”, which you knew was bullshit.

being an argent, you knew moving was always something you’d have to do. when things got complicated or you and your mom became targets, your dad would pack up all of your belongings and drag all of you to somewhere far from where you were.

this time, it was beacon hills. but this time, it wasn’t just you and your parents. it was the three of you and your uncle chris, aunt victoria, and cousin allison. you were close with allison, and she offered to eat lunch with you every day until you made some friends.

you hadn’t even been at your locker for a full minute before you felt a pair of eyes on you. you looked to your right and didn’t see anyone looking at you, but when you looked to your left, you spotted a boy standing at his locker, staring right at you.

he had a buzzcut, and he was cute. he had his backpack thrown over one shoulder, and he was wearing a flannel, jeans, and a pair of converse. he looked kind.

when you noticed him, he got nervous, his body stiffening. he gave you an awkward smile before quickly closing his locker and shuffling away, meeting a friend at the end of the hall.

you chuckled to yourself and stared down at your schedule, seeing you had biology first period.

—

you sat on the bleachers during your free period, the sunlight making the cool air more bearable. the lacrosse team was doing try-outs, and the boy from earlier was there, although he was on the bench.

you were sat next to allison and her new friend lydia, who made it very clear that she was dating the team captain, jackson.

“who is that?” allison asked, looking at the goalie.

“him? i’m not sure who he is. why?”

as if he could hear them, he looked your direction.

“he’s in my english class.”

ignoring their conversation, your eyes shifted back over to the one with the buzzcut. you’d heard the coach call him ‘stilinski’, but you still weren’t sure of his first name. he groaned as his friend hit the ground after being struck in the face with a ball.

as he began catching the balls, cheers of ‘yeah!’ and ‘woo-hoo!’ left stilinski’s mouth, and he jumped to his feet when he caught jackson’s shot.

he looked around and yelled loudly, “that’s my friend!”

you laughed as everyone cheered, meeting his eye contact.

—

you stood outside the boys’ locker room, waiting for the kid who you knew only by ‘stilinski’. it took a few minutes, but eventually he stepped out, freezing in place when he saw you.

“oh, hey,” he said nervously.

“hey.” you smiled softly and gripped the straps of your backpack. “your friend did good out there.”

he nodded. “yeah, i think even he was surprised.”

a couple of seconds of silence went by before you spoke again. “y/n.”

“stiles.”

“can i ask why you were staring at me earlier?”

his eyebrows raised and his mouth opened as he tried to think of something to say. “uh... i... i didn’t recognize you, i was trying to figure out if you were new.”

“yeah, i am. i just moved here.”

“oh, where from?”

“south dakota. my dad packed us up and moved us here last night.”

“i could give you a tour of the school. i mean, if you want to.”

you broke the eye contact and chuckled to yourself. “i think i’m okay. thanks though.” the bell rang and you looked at the stairs to your right. “i should get going. i’ll see you around, stiles.”

as you walked off, he shouted after you, “are you sure you don’t want that tour?”

“i’m sure,” you responded, not looking back so you could conceal your smile.

—

you stepped into your last class, where you immediately spotted stiles. he was scrambling to finish his homework, an extra pencil stuck out both sides of his mouth.

you chuckled to yourself and walked over, sliding into the seat right next to him.

“oh, hey,” he said, pulling the pencil out of his mouth.

“did you forget to do the homework?”

he nodded. “i got busy last night.”

you reached over and grabbed his paper, which was full of math problems, all of his answers wrong.

“what’s your grade in here?”

“bad,” he stated simply, which made you laugh.

“i can tell. all your answers are wrong.”

he groaned. “do you know how to do them?”

“yeah, i got an a in this class last year. i have to repeat it because i’m new.”

he lit up, adjusting his posture. “well, maybe you could... tutor me.”

you looked at him. “tutor you?”

“mhm.”

“now why would i do that?” you asked sarcastically.

“i don’t really want to repeat this class.”

you nodded. “alright. we can study in the library after school.”

his eyes went wide, almost as if he didn’t expect you to say yes. “wait, seriously? you’ll help me?”

“why not?”

—

“and just multiply the x by two and you’re done.”

he wrote down the answer, still visibly confused. “um... okay.”

“you still don’t understand, do you?” he reluctantly shook his head. “that’s okay. it’s the beginning of the year, i think you’ll be fine.”

he leaned back in his chair and checked the time on his phone. that was when both of you realized it had gotten dark outside.

“shit,” you said to yourself, pulling your phone out of your pocket to see texts from both of your parents asking where you were. “i have to go home.”

you gathered your books in a hurry and shoved them into your backpack, stiles doing the same. he followed you back out into the hallway, walking quickly beside you.

“are your parents overprotective?” he asked, making conversation.

“god, you have no idea.” when you got out to the parking lot, he stopped you. “i really need to get home.”

“i just... i liked hanging out with you. even if we were doing math.”

you smiled. “i liked hanging out with you, too.”

just then, your phone rang again. you looked at the screen to see ‘dad’ displayed across the top.

“hello?” you asked, lifting the phone to your ear.

“where the hell are you? i called and texted you a thousand times.”

“i’m sorry, i was tutoring a friend. i’m on my way home.”

“we’ll talk more when you get here.”

the line clicked, making you roll your eyes.

“i have to go. i’m sorry. i’ll see you tomorrow?”

you pushed yourself on your toes and gave him a kiss on the cheek, making him go red.

“uh, yeah, tomorrow. yeah. tuesday. school.”

you laughed at his awkwardness. “bye, stiles.”

he gave you a goofy smirk and waved.

you may have just spent hours with him, but you planned on hanging out even more in the weeks to follow.

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baekhansol · 3 years

Text

prologue: pretty please

pairing: werewolf!jackson x f!reader

genre: werewolf au, fluff, smut, angsty ending | rated: mature

word count: 3.6K

warnings: lying, fluff, oral (f receiving), slight orgasm denial, sort of nipple play (reader on self), unprotected sex, knotting, sort of awful sex I'm sorry jackson, angsty ending, and lmk if i am missing anything!

note: so this is the prologue to a series I am writing!! i hope you all really like it! I actually decided today it fits as more of a prologue than a chapter one, so :p please enjoy and maybe give me feedback idk also i know the smut in it sucks i'm sorry

You often found yourself in the library during the day, studying and doing homework or taking a break and watching anime. You had been sitting there for an hour or so, and it was starting to get busy. It always did around midterms and finals; you were just glad you found your own small table to sit at.

You were working on a paper when someone came up, smiling a bit awkwardly. “Hey, would you mind if I sit here? I’ll be quiet, I promise,” He says, hesitating to sit down. He had an accent that you couldn’t quite place, as it only happened with some words.

When you finish the sentence you were typing and look up, you do your best to hide your surprise at how handsome he was. He was absolutely stunning, making you question your own appearance. “Oh, um, sure,” you say, your cheeks flushing with heat as you make room for him.

“I’m Jackson, by the way,” He says as he pulls out the chair and sits, getting himself comfortable across from you.

“I’m Y/N,” you respond, still blushing.

“It’s nice to meet you,” he says, offering a charming smile as he pulls out his laptop.

The next week at the same time, he showed up again and asked, “Y/N, is it alright if I join you?”

You nod, a shy smile finding its way onto your face. “What are you studying?” you eventually ask him, tilting your head slightly.

“Business,” Jackson says, glancing up at you with a smile. “Actually, it’s my masters and I’m focusing on international business. What about you?”

When you tell him, he listens intently and asks polite questions- the right ones, too. Not the usual ones you always get.

The next week you’re running late and stop at the vending machine to grab your favorite candy. Going to your usual table, you do a double take when someone is already there. You pause awkwardly, only to realize it was Jackson waiting there with a second cup of coffee.

“Oh, hey Jackson,” you say, blushing as you join him.

He smiles at you, pushing one of the cups towards you. “I got you a coffee, just the way you like it.”

You suspiciously tilt your head, taking a sip, only to be surprised that it was the way you liked your coffee. “How did you know?” you laugh, getting out your laptop.

“I know some of the workers,” he sheepishly admits. You laugh and open the candy, offering him some.

“I shouldn’t, I’m on a diet,” he says with a pout.

“Oh, come on,” you scoff, raising an eyebrow.

He playfully rolls his eyes before grabbing a piece.

Soon, every Tuesday you would meet up with Jackson in the library. Before midterms, it became every Tuesday and Thursday until finals, when it was almost every day. It was on one of these Thursdays that he asked you, “Are you free tomorrow?”

You tilt your head, wondering what he was getting to. He seemed to always have plans on Fridays during your normal study time, and you tried not to study too late since the library closed early. “Uh, no, I don’t think so? Why do you ask?” you respond.

“Well, I was thinking that I could take you for a date! If you wanted to, that is…”

You could tell he was a little nervous, and you realized you were staring at him blankly. You let out an embarrassed laugh, nodding. “Yes, sorry, I was just… yes, I would like that,” you admit, shaking your head some.

“Great! I can pick you up after your class tomorrow? Just make sure you dress warm!” he says with a grin.

“You already have a plan? What is it? Tell me~?” you ask, pouting a little bit.

“Nope, it’s a secret!” he laughs, smiling brightly. “You have to wait until tomorrow to know!”

The next day, you woke up early to get ready. You wore warm clothes like he said, and did your makeup cutely but not excessively, especially since it seemed like you would be outside. In class, you were extra fidgety and kept checking the clock. It felt like time slowed, but you knew it was from your anticipation.

Right on cue as class ended, your phone vibrated. Checking it, you noticed a text from Jackson saying he was outside the building.

You all but run out of the classroom down to the parking lot, finding him standing outside grinning.

“Will you tell me what we are doing now?” you ask, giving him your puppy dog eyes.

“Maybe,” he teases, leading you to his car. He opens the door for you and even shuts it, getting in on the other side. “Does hiking sound okay? Then takeout and a movie at my place?” Jackson asks. You see a hopeful glint and the worry in his eyes, and your smile grows.

“That sounds wonderful!” you tell him.

“Great!” he says, starting to drive. “You’ll love it! I go here quite often, and it’s very pretty. I’ve seen some deer and some really neat birds before there.”

“Oh, really? Do you know what kinds of birds?” you ask, curious.

“Well, I’m not sure since they’re not the same as back home, but definitely some owls! I went out later than I should have. And I don’t know if it was a falcon, eagle, or hawk. But those too.”

“I think we have all three here,” you laugh.

“Well, that really doesn’t help identify it any, now does it,” he laughs with you.

“Not in the slightest,” you giggle.

“Well I guess if we see them, maybe you’ll know,” Jackson says, turning onto a gravel road.

“What am I, a bird expert now?” you laugh more.

“No, you’re just a native here,” he responds with a little pout.

“Still not a bird expert,” you point out.

“I know, but you will know better than me,” he reasons.

“Maybe, maybe not,” you say, shaking your head as he parks in a small parking lot.

“We are here!” Jackson says, turning off the car. He leads you over to the map by the trail entrance, glancing at it once before heading down.

“We’ll follow the blue markers this time,” he says, pointing them out on the tree.

“What do they mean? You didn’t give me time to read the map,” you say with a huff.

“They mean we’re going the correct way,” he tells you smartly.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it!”

“I know. And there’s nothing you can do about it but follow me and find out,” he teases you, taking your hand and leading you.

You’re both careful not to trip over any of the roots or loose rocks, and you start getting glances of white.

“Is that a river?” you ask, glancing at what looked like ice.

“Uh, maybe,” Jackson responded in an unbelievable manner. Of course he knew, he just wasn’t going to tell you.

Eventually, you made it to more of a clearing. Jackson didn’t even have to point to what it was he wanted to show you. You stood in awe instead.

Winter was definitely there, and you knew that since the little fountains on campus were frozen over. But this, this was a sight to behold. The entire river had frozen over, and what must usually be a gorgeous waterfall had frozen over. The water had frozen against the rocks, sharp spears of it dangerously hanging from the main body of water. You swore if the sun was just right, you could see some of the water on the very inside running down inside the thick, frozen ice.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Jackson asks you, his voice hushed. All you could do was nod.

The next Tuesday, you got to the library first. “Want to go on a second date?” you bluntly ask him when he joins you.

He laughs before smiling, nodding. “Of course, I’d love to,” Jackson assures you.

You’re not sure if you can ever end up choosing a favorite date by the time finals end. Your last “date” was taking him to the airport. He was going home for the break, and you wanted to take him.

“I guess this is as far as we can go, huh?” you ask sadly, looking at the security checkpoint.

“Yeah, I’m sorry, Y/N,” Jackson says, fidgeting with his ticket as if he were nervous.

“Well, I’m sure everything will go well…” you say, almost more nervous than he was. “I mean, you’ve flown lots of times before, so this shouldn’t be any different…” you start to ramble in an attempt to console him.

He chuckles a little, gently putting his hand on your shoulder before tilting up your chin.

“Y/N, will you be my girlfriend?” Jackson softly asks, his dark eyes meeting yours.

Your heart leaped in your chest. You thought of him as your boyfriend, but you weren’t sure if you were official or not, so it made you a little nervous. But at his question, your lips smiled on their own, and you nod as much as you can for his hand holding onto your chin. “Yes!” you whisper.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, causing you to blush and nod. Once given consent, he kisses you sweetly.

“I promise I’ll be back soon, okay?” Jackson says as he pulls away and picks up his things.

“Alright… be safe,” you tell him, feeling your cheeks burn.

“I will,” he assures you, kissing your cheek before leaving.

A few days later, when he was over jet lag, you face timed him. You were eating breakfast at the time, and he was eating dinner.

“How are you?” You ask, happy to see him again and hear his voice.

“I’m doing much better now that I get to see my beautiful girlfriend~” he coos playfully, causing you to laugh.

“Okay, okay. How was the plane trip? How are things going back home?” you ask, wanting more details.

“It went well, don’t worry. I am home safe, although it is a bit hectic at times,” he assures you.

“Why is it hectic? You’re on a break~ you need to relax!” you tell him with a huff.

“I know, I know, don’t worry, I am,” he again assures you.

“You better be,” you huff back, pouting slightly.

Just like that, your library dates were replaced with virtual ones. Some days you could only talk for a few minutes, some days you went on for hours. Every now and then, he even would sing you to sleep. You always slept well when he would.

When the holidays came, he ended up sending you a cd of songs he recorded to help you sleep.

When the semester started up again, you would meet in the library Mondays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays this time. You sat at the same table, but also flirted more when you studied. You made sure to keep up your grades, since they were incredibly important to you.

After the initial start up hump of the beginning of the semester, you started to remember something strange about Jackson that you had forgotten or just hadn’t had the time to realize before. It wasn’t quite a gut feeling of danger, but a feeling of something was wrong. He would get sick nearly every month for a few days without fail. In the last week of January, Jackson was out sick for over a week.

The following Monday, Jackson comes back to the library, and you immediately perk up. “Jackson, how are you feeling? Your roommate told me you were sick,” you ask him.

“I was, but I am feeling much better now,” he assures you, smiling.

You felt a tug in your stomach, and you knew he was lying. “Jackson, you get sick more often than… well, anyone I know. What’s wrong?” you insist.

He sighs, his smile faltering. “I have an immune disorder. I don’t like talking about it much, but I often get sick,” he tells you.

So, you believed him.

You believed him until your introductory anatomy course went over autoimmune disorders. He didn’t fit any of the basic descriptions for them. You ended up choosing to do a paper on the topic, so you ended up pressuring him more when he was at your place for a movie date night.

“Jackson, I’ve been working on a paper for autoimmune disorders. I may have to narrow it down to one in particular… So, I was wondering what one you had?” you ask him, wanting to be a supportive girlfriend.

He sighs and seems irritated about it, and you couldn’t quite tell what was wrong. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I just… I feel like I can’t tell you…” he admits, shocking you.

You felt like you had told him everything. You told him about your asthma, how your therapy sessions went, what you wanted to improve on, your insecurities about your body, even sexual things you had thought about eventually exploring with him.

But he couldn’t tell you this? After you told him about your mental health issues? You were shocked and speechless.

After a moment, you finally catch your thoughts. “Jackson… you know you can tell me anything, right?” you say softly, frowning and not realizing you were tearing up.

Jackson’s face softens, and he pulls you into a hug, rubbing your back. “I’m sorry, I know. You’re right,” he soothes, sighing slightly. “I just… don’t want you to hate me or think I am a freak or anything,” he further admits.

“Jackson, I love you. I could never,” you whisper. It was the first time you had said that.

His heart melts at your words, and he started tearing up. You pull away, and he cups your cheeks.

He lets out a short sigh, making up his mind. “Alright baby. Well, I’ll just say it,” he tells you, now opting to hold your hands. Jackson gently squeezes them as he admits, “I’m a werewolf.”

You pause, staring at him as you replay his words in your mind. You then pull away and laugh, shaking your head. “No, seriously Jackson,” you say, feeling anxious. Why would he lie to you?

“I am being serious,” he sighs, running a hand through his hair.

“Then-then prove it,” you say, but it comes out as more of a question.

Jackson sighs softly, tilting his head some. “Alright. Count to ten and come into your room,” he says, going in.

You huff, counting out loud.

“One.”

“Two.”

“Three.”

“Four.”

“Five.”

You stand up and head towards your room.

“Six.”

“Seven.”

“Eight.”

“Nine.”

“Ten.”

You turn the doorknob and say, “I’m coming in now.”

You open the door and are immediately greeted with a massive wolf. Oddly enough, he had the eyes of Jackson.

You quickly shut your door, knowing you weren’t allowed to have pets in your building.

“Um…” you begin, staring at him in confusion. You look around the room, wondering where Jackson was, only to notice his clothes on the floor. “So, you’re really-?” you begin, looking at the wolf again.

He nods and you groan, covering your face with your hands.

You hear him jump off the bed, and after hearing snapping and popping, you glance up and see Jackson pulling his pants back on. You quickly look away, your cheeks heating up as you try not to stare at his well defined body.

“Told you so,” he murmurs, smirking because he knew.

"Well this is rather awkward. What immune disorder do I choose to write about now?" You say with a laugh.

"Sorry babe. Let's go watch that movie now, yeah?" He suggests, taking your hand and leading you back to the living room.

After learning about werewolves, Jackson would take you on hiking dates. Sometimes he would run around as a wolf, and other times you would ride him like a horse, which was probably ridiculous to look at, if anyone ever saw you. But he liked to show off.

After finals, you stayed with him for a week. You weren't ready to go home yet, but you already had to move out of the dorm you were staying in.

You were cuddling with him and watching a movie. You felt your insides burn with anxiety, having been wanting to tell him something for a while, but too embarrassed to say. See, once you admitted you were a virgin, Jackson took things very slowly with you. You enjoyed giving him blowjobs after he taught you about how he would knot, and the furthest he went on you was giving you oral once.

But now you felt ready to progress your relationship further, but you didn't know how to say it.

"Jackson," you say, feeling your cheeks heating up.

"Yes, baby?" He says, looking at you. He knew something was up and you needed to tell him something, but he honestly had no idea what it would be.

"I… think I'm ready," you admit, nibbling your lip.

"Ready for what?" He asks, raising an eyebrow in confusion.

"Having sex," you bashfully admit.

"Oh," he says, surprised. "Right now?" He asks, trying not to sound too eager.

You shake your head. "No, not right now. But soon," you assure him, feeling embarrassed.

"Well, I don't mind waiting a little longer," he assures you, kissing the top of your head.

One minute you were grinding on Jackson, making out on the couch. The next, you and Jackson were both naked in bed. He lays you down, hovering over you as he kisses you.

“Jackson, can I give you a blowjob?”

“Don’t worry about making me feel good. I want to eat you out,” he says, pulling away from you and spreading your legs.

“Yes please,” you say, nodding softly.

He kisses your thighs, teasing you by biting and marking them. He knew this made you needy, as your thighs were sensitive. Jackson eventually kisses your clit, causing you to moan. He smirks as he licks your folds, maintaining eye contact as you blush.

“We’ve done this how many times? And you always get so bashful,” Jackson gently teases, quickly going to work.

He sucks your clitoris, his tongue flicking it as your juices leak out and onto his chin. Your hand grabs his hair, tugging as you moan. Jackson uses his strong arms to keep your legs open. He notices your hole clenching around nothing, boosting his ego.

Jackson inserts a finger, curling it up against your g spot, which causes you to cry out his name.

“You’re doing so good for me,” he whispers against your folds, pausing his kisses to your mound as he adds a second finger, working on stretching you out.

“Feels so good,” you whine, gasping as he adds a third finger. “I’m close,” you pant, reaching down to rub your clit. Jackson stops you and pulls out his fingers with a smirk.

“Jackson?!” you gasp, pouting that he took away your orgasm.

“I want to cum with you,” he explains, smiling sweetly.

You sigh and lay your head back down, nodding.

“Are you sure you don’t want to use condoms?” Jackson checks, raising an eyebrow.

“Positive. You said yourself I wasn’t fertile,” you admit, blushing some.

“Alright,” he says, teasing your folds with his tip. Jackson watches as your hole clenches around nothing, desperately wanting his cock.

“Please Jackson,” you huff, not liking how he began to rub his cock against your folds.

“I’m getting myself lubricated,” Jackson smugly responds, grinding into you, tapping his cock against your swollen bud.

“Fuck~” you cry, pulling your hair. “Please Jackson, I want to have sex with you,” you beg, tearing up in need.

“Hmm, alright,” Jackson says, slowly sliding his tip inside of you. He grabs your hands and kisses you, letting you adjust to his girth. He slowly slides in, huffing into your ear softly.

“Jackson, please move,” you beg once he bottoms out.

“Yes ma’am,” he teases you, starting with slow thrusts. Jackson greedily watches your breasts bounce with each thrust, a near-feral grin finding its way on his face.

“Faster, please,” you murmur, doing your best to keep your eyes open as you squeeze his hands.

He readily obliges, and you groan as the sound of skin slapping skin fills the room with both of your moans.

“I’m not gonna last that long,” he admits with a laugh.

You nod and he lets go of one of your hands, rubbing your clit. You grab your breast and pinch your nipples, stimulating yourself as you near your high.

He suddenly begins to cum with a loud groan of your name, his thrusts harder than before. You cry out in pleasure, which soon turns into a whimper as he begins to knot you.

“You’re doing so well, Y/N, you’re doing so good,” Jackson begins to praise. It takes all of his strength not to collapse on top of you, but he manages to nuzzle into your neck and kiss your sweet spot there.

You groan softly, brushing your damp hair out of your eyes. “I love you,” you say, smiling tiredly.

“I love you too.”

You wake up the next day naked and alone in bed. You look around, wondering where Jackson went. “Jackson?” you softly call, looking for him.

But something about his apartment was… off.

You carefully get up, your legs feeling a bit weak, and go use the bathroom. His toothbrush and razor were missing.

You go out into the kitchen and living room, and still no Jackson.

When you go back into the bedroom, you notice that his phone was missing. You open the closet and his dresser, and there were no clothes.

For one whatever reason, Jackson was gone.

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scuttle-buttle · 3 years

Text

Chapter 8

WC: 1533

Rated: E

Chapter Tags: domestic fluff, anxiety, alcohol consumption

🧠

Tuesday afternoon had you and Laszlo working in his office. He sat behind his desk grading quizzes while you worked to transcribe one of his notebooks. Tchaikovsky played quietly over the bluetooth speaker he had on the bookshelf. You had once mentioned that he was your favorite composer, so Laszlo had taken to playing his work frequently during office hours.

Pausing to take a sip of the now-room temperature tea he had brought you, you notice a low humming noise. Turning in the chair you watch your doctor. His eyebrows are scrunched in concentration. He wears the little round reading glasses that make him look old-fashioned and sophisticated. He shakes his head lightly before marking an answer wrong on the paper he holds. But what strikes you most of all, is that he is softly humming along to the music in his deep baritone. He’s actually quite good with his pitch.

“I’ve never heard you sing.”

He looks up at you from over the spectacles. “Pardon?”

“You should sing more often, you have a lovely voice.”

A deep crimson blush spreads on the apples of his cheeks. Laszlo was not one to be embarrassed easily, but sometimes the most inconsequential or mundane things like this would do the trick. He opens his mouth to no doubt give a witty and defensive response when someone knocks on the door.

“Come in,” he states. He isn’t expecting anyone, but there is an essay coming soon so it wouldn’t surprise him if a student wants to get ahead on their planning. The heavy mahogany door clicks and swings open.

“Hello Laszlo. I thought it was about time that I made my way to visit you,” says a familiar feminine voice. Standing in the doorway is none other than Dr. Stratton.

Laszlo sat up and removed his glasses as she entered the office. In the busyness of the last few weeks he hadn’t made it a point to seek her out yet. “Dr. Stratton, hello. I must say it has been quite a long time.” He smiles at seeing her, eyes lighting up.

“Oh, Laszlo, there's no need for such formalities. I’m no stranger that you can’t call me by my name.” Karen waves her hand in a dismissive manner. She then turns in your direction with a smile. “And you my dear, I didn’t expect to see you here?”

“Ah, sorry Dr. Stratton, it must have slipped my mind last time - I’m a TA for uh- Dr. Kreizler.” You almost slip up and call him Laszlo, but catch your tongue at the last possible second. It doesn’t shock you that the two doctors know each other. They both worked in the same field and had lived in central Europe in overlapping times. You’re happy to see two people you think highly of reacquainted.

You miss the confused glance that Laszlo sports between yourself and Dr. Stratton. The two of you obviously knew each other, but how? Karen had been in Vienna for years. Why would she know who you were? How small a world was it that his previous romantic partner and current one knew each other? His curiosity gets the better of him. “Forgive me, but are you two acquainted?” he asks.

“Yeah, I had Dr. Stratton my freshman year for intro psych. I told you about it on my first day, don’t you remember?”

“She was a fantastic student, Laszlo. You would have loved having her in one of your classes. She always had such well thought out ideas to contribute.”

He at least has the decency to look sheepish when he admits that it must have slipped his mind. In truth he hadn’t paid you much attention the first day. He made the effort to learn your name and that was the extent to which he cared at the time.

Dr. Stratton pipes up again. “I only have a moment but I wanted to invite you for drinks later this week so we can catch up. I have some new ideas I’d love to share with you.”

“That sounds wonderful. Please let me know when you would like to and I would be delighted.” The prospect excites Laszlo. It really had been so long since he last spoke to Karen.

“Of course, I’ll see you then.” She nods to Laszlo and gives you a grin and a wave as she leaves. The door clicks behind her.

“Oh-hoo you’ve got a date Laz, should I be worried?” you tease.

He gives you a deadpan look before realizing you are joking. He gives a slight frown. “Karen and I are old friends and colleagues, nothing more.” And previous lovers, which he omits.

“Alright, loverboy,” you quip, turning back to the notebook and laptop.

He finds himself discomforted by your joke. Perhaps he should tell you about Karen… Nevertheless, he tramps down the feeling and gets back to work.

“So why was it that Laszlo couldn’t join us tonight? He was not very forthcoming in his message.” John asks as he sets down your drinks. The three of you were sat at a small corner booth at the tavern you frequented on Friday nights. The evening was young; only a few patrons were there playing pool and having a round.

“He’s out with another professor catching up. They haven’t seen each other in years.” You take a large swig of your lager, the hoppy flavor of the brew coating your tongue. “He almost didn’t go but I insisted that I would survive alone with you two,” you chuckle.

John looks at you over his own glass. “And did he say who he’s with?”

“Dr. Stratton from the psych department.”

“Oh. I see.” John shifts his gaze around, his features going awkward at the information. He makes brief eye contact with Sara before darting them away again. Sara purses her lips, her doe eyes giving nothing away. The tense pause stirs something within you.

“What?” John needles at your question, a slight downturn of his lips as if to say he wasn’t sure what you meant. Sara sips her drink and watches the encounter. “What are you not telling me?”

John scratches at his chin. Sara steps in this time. “It’s nothing, John is just up to usual worrisome self,” she tries to dismiss.

Her answer doesn’t satisfy you. “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m not exactly inclined to believe you.” Facing John, you continue. “You look like you’ve eaten something that tastes horrible, you’re hesitant to look me in the eye, and you rubbed your jaw when I asked. You’re a terrible liar, John,” you accuse. You aren’t upset, but his sudden inability to speak causes anxiety to bubble in your gut.

He huffs. “You’re beginning to sound just like him, you know.” He quirks a brow at you, annoyed. “Laszlo and Karen have a… long history. As friends and colleagues, of course. They were very close for a while,” he tacks on. He wants to be forthcoming with you, but knows it isn’t his place to actually disclose Laszlo’s relationship with her.

“Oh.” you nod. Your anxiety begins to dissipate at the explanation. “I mean I’m not surprised by it, they both lived near each other for a while in Europe. I’m sure they ran in the same academic circles. Frankly, I’m glad he’s getting to catch up with her, he needs more friends than just us,” you laugh at Sara’s ‘cheers to that’ comment. “Anyways, how’s your week been?” you ask to change the subject.

The night comes to an end soon after; the tone shifted after you retired from the conversation about Laszlo’s absence. You caught a cab back to his home. He had given you a spare key in case you wanted to come over at any time, whether to study in peace or to just be there. He wasn't sure when he would get back, but he did ask for you to wait for him.

Getting ready for bed you chance a look at the clock. It was nearing midnight. Laszlo was still out, which was somewhat uncharacteristic of him, but you figure that he’s just got a lot to talk about with Dr. Stratton. You send a text to check in, but get no response.

As you lay in bed you find your thoughts wandering back to the conversation with John and Sara. “A long history; very close for a while…” plays on repeat in your head. You hadn’t thought anything of it at the time, but now it nags at you like a gnat swirling your head in the summertime. Surely nothing happened between the two? Laszlo would have told you. There’s no doubt he knew she was back, given that she’s in his department at the university. And you trust Dr. Stratton, she’s been a great support system and even a friend to you. If the two had been involved he would have let you know, you conclude. Besides, you and the doctor were happy, so even if they had been a thing at one point it surely wouldn’t matter now.

Right?

By the time you finally fall asleep Laszlo still hasn’t come home.

Tag list

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itsblissfuloblivion · 3 years

Text

Prompt #69 for @clarensjoy‘s Hinny FicFest 2021: "His pickup line wasn't as good as mine. Just saying"

Ao3 // FFnet

hey, tis us, last kids joining the party. hopefully it’s still alright!

It’s a Tuesday, so the din of the pub is a bit muted in comparison. Loud and full enough that nobody will get ideas about getting to know their table neighbours, but quiet enough that you don’t have to shout to be heard. Harry’s boot sticks to the floor as he steps inside and for a moment he’s about to let loose some colourful swears about arseholes who don’t understand that spent gum belongs in a bin, but his attention is quickly pulled away by another arsehole at the bar trying to flex his flirtation muscles.

If Harry reads the bloke’s mark’s facial expression correctly, said flex has been wholly unsuccessful so far. And Harry’s made his own study of the current focus of said bloke, since Sixth Year in fact, so Harry’s comfortable saying he’s something of an expert on Ginny Weasley.

Slowly - with a slight drag on his gummed left heel - Harry picks his way through the shadowy bits of the pub towards Ginny as she continues her valiant attempt to scan the menu. Soon, Harry’s close enough to join Ginny’s ‘enjoyment’ of her current companion.

The bloke is mid-build, just shy of Harry’s height, and almost as into his boy band hair as he is to excessive use of perfume. Things he apparently is not into include reading body language, accepting personal space boundaries, and wearing hats correctly. Harry winces - half for Ginny’s nose and half for whatever this stranger is about to have done to him - when Perfume Lover leans in closer to Ginny. “Hello, beautiful! No need to check that out, I already know what’s on the menu - me ‘n’ you.”

Harry’s suppressing his snort, and a bit of horror, at the line when Ginny leans in close, eyes sharp. If Boy Band knew what was good for him, he’d pay more attention to Ginny’s blood thirsty look than the fact that she’s drawing close. But honestly, Harry can’t fault him too much - for getting distracted that is - because one whiff of her hair and the simple warmth of her as she draws near still sends Harry’s heart pounding. That’s about where Harry’s ability to relate to Ball Cap begins and ends.

As expected, the content of Ginny’s low whisper is less ‘want to get out of here’ and more ‘guts for garters’ because the pick up artist is soon backing away with a shocked expression, stumbling over barstools and an innocent busboy.

With a grin, Harry steadies the busboy on his feet and swipes a paper napkin to drag the bulk of the gum from his boot. He doesn’t break stride as he tosses the napkin in a bin and makes his way towards Ginny, who has returned her attention to the menu and the tiny red straw between her lips.

Somehow, he doesn’t end up sprawled on the floor when she twirls it, or when her tongue darts out to wet her lips, or even when the waitress returns with a new drink. Instead, he keeps pace to end up with one arm draped around Ginny’s shoulders just as she’s left alone at the high top table. “Do you believe in love at first sight, or should I walk past you again?”

Ginny snorts, nose crinkling as she stabs at the ice with her straw. “Reckon I’m sticking with the other bloke tonight.”

Harry frowns even as he claims the free stool closest to Ginny. “His pickup line wasn’t as good as mine,” he swipes her drink, ignoring her indignant ‘Oi!’ and takes a sip, “Just saying.”

“How about get your own drink, Mr. Just Saying?” Ginny grumbles, though the blow of her grousing is softened by the quick press of her lips to his.

“I can’t decide between the burger and the stew.”

Harry raises his hand in the hopes of beckoning someone with relevant resources to bring him a pint. He receives a nod from behind the bar and soon turns his attention back to Ginny. “Is the new Firebolt nearby?”

Ginny tears her eyes away from the menu. “Pardon? No - we’re on the Cleansweep - ”

“Oh,” Harry shakes his head, “Must’ve just been my heart taking off.”

“If you promise to shut up I’ll do that thing you like so much,” Ginny manages to mutter with a roll of her eyes, pausing only once the waitress arrives with Harry’s drink. He takes a long sip while Ginny orders - apparently having decided on the burger. When the waitress turns to him he gets the same - though changing medium rare for medium well. Plus he adds, “And can we have the stew to share? With some bread.”

Once they’re alone again, Ginny nudges his shoulder. “Thanks.”

“You got me all hyped for it too,” he shrugs and slips his arm back around her, “Besides, I’m not above asking for a takeaway box.”

“Glad you seem to know the real path to my affection, that line was bloody awful. Time to move on,” Ginny winks, “I’ll keep my promise.”

“No, no. You said Boy Band had better lines than I do and now I’m proving you wrong,” Harry takes another swallow and swipes at his upper lip. “I’ll earn that thing I like the real way.”

“Which is?”

“Wooing.”

Ginny sighs. “You won’t let it go, will you?”

“Nope,” Harry pops, sitting a little taller in his chair.

“Anyhow,” Ginny says, fiddling with his fingers, “How was the meeting with Kingsley?”

“Relatively unnecessary,” Harry shrugs, “At least I think so. But you know how they like to get input and whatnot. Which means lots of almost shouting and then Kingsley puts on that face and says, ‘You’ve all given me a lot to think about.’”

“Does he change his mind much, pre to post meeting?”

“Depends who offered alternatives,” Harry answers, taking another swallow of his ale. “Which is for the best. You wouldn’t believe some of the shit people say.”

“What did you ever do to make Robards hate you so much?” Ginny asks with a chuckle when Harry’s forehead connects with her shoulder.

“I dunno, but he must. Either that or he really values my ability to half take notes and mostly doodle magical creatures.”

“Do you take requests? I want my face on the body of a harpy.”

The din of the crowd briefly increases and Harry leans close enough that Ginny’s soft flowery scent overcomes the smell of stale beer and miscellaneous fried foods. “Gin, your face is already on the body of a Harpy.”

“Har-har, you know what I mean.”

Harry shakes his head and tips so his nose nearly touches Ginny’s. “There’s something wrong with my eyes,” Ginny perks up, rapidly searching him for any injuries she neglected to notice and he continues, “There must be. Because I can’t seem to take them off you.”

She groans, shoulders slumped back against her barstool. “Harry, you have terrible eyesight. And that might have been the worst line yet.”

“Noted,” Harry nods like she’s just given him a tip on a case, “I’ll keep trying.”

“Please don’t.”

“I love a challenge.”

The waitress returns with their admittedly overdone dinner order and Ginny nearly spears Harry with the prongs of her fork. “Do not make me sick up, this smells too good to waste.”

Harry scofs. “Right. We both know you’re tougher than that. Should I remind you that your secret weapon was the Bat-Bogey Hex - a hex largely based on snot?”

“And it still is,” Ginny grins after she swallows an impressively large helping of her food. “Talking about gross, though,” she follows, eyeing Harry sideways, “any specific plans for my brother’s stag do? And don’t tell me you’ve cracked under pressure and let George organise it.”

There’s something very Molly Weasley-eque in her expression as she says it, freckles alight and splattered over her cheeks and nose in a way that always has Harry’s insides twisting and burning, without failure. So he smirks, leaning in closer.

“Which brother is that?”

Ginny kicks at his shin, wobbling on her barstool. “The one with the big nose and lanky limbs?”

“Oh, that one,” Harry widens his eyes in mock realisation. “Right, yes. No, I’m doing it."

“And?”

“And?” Harry parrots, sipping another spoonful of stew.

“Remember the bogeys, Harry,” she scowls, huffs away a red strand of hair falling on her cheeks.

His elbow planted firmly on the bar, Harry offers her his most dazzling smile, green eyes glinting mischievously behind his round glasses. “Aw, Gin, it’ll be nothing much. Just your regular boys’ night out - a little bit of getting pissed, a little bit of going to a strip club.”

Ginny laughs throatily, her head leaned back and her long, red hair grazing over her waist, eyes closed shut. “Can’t wait to read Skeeter’s take on you visiting a strip club. Honestly, Harry?”

“Nah. But we will get pissed at George’s though.”

“Figured. Good for you, you deserve it,” Ginny smiles and tops it off with a bite of warm bread. “Thanks for the laugh.”

“I aim to please,” Harry smiles back and, for a while, they both eat in contented silence, the pub’s buzz fading in the background as they enjoy each other’s presence and the feeling that they’re safe, and seen, and loved.

Later, there’s a clatter as Harry pushes his empty plate further up the bar and scans Ginny promptly before he says, “Alright, hear me out - one last try.”

“Okay,” she mumbles, bored, swishing her spoon in his direction. “Shoot.”

Harry clears his throat.

“Kiss me if I’m wrong, but Snape was so fond of me he tried to adopt me, right?”

Ginny’s forehead promptly connects with the bar top.

“That’s it,” she grunts, ginger hair pooling over her arms, spread over the black countertop, “we’re leaving. Check, please,” she raises her head to speak, voice heavy with distress.

“Women,” Harry pretends to roll his eyes, “nothing ever pleases them.”

Ginny sticks her tongue out in response. She then hops off and strides towards the loo, hair flicked over her shoulder.

Harry shakes his head, grinning; he rummages through his pocket, thumbs brushing over the hardwood of his wand, feels the cold metal of the coins piled in there. Five silver ones rattle along the counter and the barman nods his thanks.

A whiff of flowery scent floats near him, her lips suddenly close to his ear as she whispers, low, “You must be absolutely knackered, because you’ve been running through my mind all day.”

Harry dips his chin slowly, green eyes connecting with her mischief-laden brown ones, a wide, playful grin on her face. “Ginny Weasley, was that a pick-up line?” Harry whispers back.

“Sue me,” she winks.

“No way. I’m rather turned on, actually.”

“Good,” Ginny follows, evilly, her lips still close to Harry’s ear. “Bathroom? There’s a private space in the very last one.”

“Fuck yes,” Harry exhales, as though he’d just received a punch to the plexus, and lets her drag him after her.

#clare's hinny ficfest #hinny #harry x ginny #canon compliant #banter & flirting #conversations at the countertop #hinny being hinny and loving a challenge #itsblissfuloblivion writes #gryffindormischief #fightfortherightsofhouseelves

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sqoiler · 3 years

Text

On the Thursday of the last week of kindergarten, the DVD that Miss Martinez was going to play turns out to be scratched beyond recognition, and so she gets out construction paper, scissors, markers, and glitter glue.

“Father’s Day isn’t for a few more weeks,” she says. “But why don’t we make some cards, just like we did for Mother’s Day, okay?”

The kids all get to work, reaching for the pile of brightly-colored paper. Stephanie Brown, who will be turning six in August, is the last one to get up. She shifts through the leftover colors--black, a pukey shade of green, blue, white. She picks up the black one and takes it back to her desk. She does not want to make a stupid card for her stupid dad. The other kids at her table are enthusiastically chattering about their dads’ favorite colors and jobs and drawing crayon drawings onto the paper. The girl next to her is cutting a snowflake out with safety scissors.

Steph picks up a white crayon and stares at her blank card. Across the room, Dexter raises his hand.

“What if we don’t have a dad?” he asks. Steph remembers from Mother’s Day that Dexter has two moms.

“Make a card for someone else,” Miss Martinez suggests. “Your grandfather, maybe. Or a neighbor, or a hero.”

A hero?

Steph looks at the black card before her, and her white crayon. She smiles.

And she makes a Father’s Day card for Batman.

-----

On the Monday of the last week of first grade, Mrs. Arnold, the art teacher, sits down her class and passes out white paper.

“Father’s Day cards,” she explains. Stephanie Brown, seven in August, considers making her own father a card. She didn’t get him anything last year but he didn’t seem to notice, and she’s not really that mad at him this year. But he didn’t seem to notice, and when Steph thinks about it, she thinks Robin probably doesn’t make Batman a card. Steph could make another card for her own dad at home, and make one for Batman at school.

Mind made up, she reaches for black markers and gets to work.

-----

On the Tuesday of the last week of second grade, Stephanie Brown, almost eight years old, sits down in art class and carefully draws a black blob with pointy ears, and a red and green and yellow stick figure, next to it, and she tries to remember what Nightwing looks like, and when she can’t remember she just draws Robin again but bigger.

HAPPY FATHER’S DAY, she writes in red marker, and she closes the card.

------

On the Wednesday of the last week of third grade, Mrs. Arnold passes out watercolors in art class with pieces of thick paper, and tells them to make presents for their dads. Stephanie Brown, nearly nine, hasn’t seen her dad in almost four months, and she uses up almost all the black water colors at her table painting a picture of Batman.

------

On the last week of fourth grade, nobody sits down their class to have them make Father’s Day cards.

On the Thursday before Father’s Day, Crystal passes Stephanie Brown, age almost-ten, a card bought from the store and tells her that they’ll mail it to Blackgate the next morning. Happy Father’s Day, the card says. You’re the best dad ever! the card says.

Steph stares at it for a long time.

Then she tears out a piece of notebook paper and folds it in half, taking the rainbow gel pens she got in December and picking up the pink one. She squints at it and sees that it’s nearly run out, so she picks up the purple one instead.

When she’s done drawing Batman and Batgirl and Robin and Nightwing, she decides she likes purple, and she folds the notebook paper inside the card her mother gave her, and she doesn’t mail anything to Blackgate the next day.

-----

On the last day of fifth grade, Mr. Robinson turns on The Great Mouse Detective and sets out a stack of colored paper and scissors. He tells the class they can do whatever they want during the movie and even sets up chips and cookies, then he sits in the back of the classroom and maybe falls asleep. Stephanie Brown, ten-going-on-eleven, wants something to do with her hands, so she takes a black piece of paper and cuts out a batsymbol. She learned how to draw them by sticking her head out her window at night and looking at the sky, and she’s proud of her newfound skill. When she’s done cutting it out, she’s not really sure what to do besides maybe tape it to her shirt, but her dad’s been out for a week now and she thinks he’d be mad if he saw that.

Instead, she folds it in half and writes HAPPY FATHERS DAY across the middle using white-out. Skye, the girl who sits next to her, leans over and asks what she’s doing, and Steph pauses. She’s...she’s not really sure why she keeps making these. To prove a point, maybe. She’s not really sure what point, though.

“Do you think Batman ever gets cards?” she asks in a whisper.

“Yes,” Skye says. “Probably every day.”

“Oh,” Steph says. “Well, I probably won’t send it then.”

“Okay,” Skye says, and then she downs half of her dixie cup of orange juice and turns back to the movie. Steph puts purple glitter glue on her batsymbol.

------

On the first week of April, Stephanie Brown, age seventeen, pulls a plastic bin out from under her desk. There’s a cardboard box beside her, and two other cardboard boxes on her empty mattress, full and taped shut. There’s a full duffel bag of clothes next to her, and her posters from her walls have been taken down and rolled up. All she has to do is finish going through her desk, and then she’s done. The rest of her things will be sold or something, she’s not sure.

She pries off the lid of the bin before her and takes out old school binders and ragged notebooks, paper folders falling apart and ancient art projects. She lifts out a collage she probably made in seventh grade and tries to decipher the meaning behind it. There is a cutout of red heels from Kohls on top of a blue betta fish.

Steph decides it will go in the trash pile and sets it aside, lifting out a yellow plastic folder. She opens it, curious, and lifts out a black paper batsymbol. She gasps when she opens it.

Her Father’s Day cards!

Of course, she had never sent them, so she has all--she counts quickly--six of them. She looks them over, laughing at her kindergarten misspellings and looking at the evolution of her drawing ability fondly. This is--she totally forgot about this. Steph closes the folder reverently and puts it on top of her duffel bag. There’s no way she can get rid of this--especially with the purple cape still in the hidden part of her closet. Especially not with where she’s packing up to move to.

----

On the third Sunday in June, Stephanie Brown, age eighteen-in-August, takes up her yellow plastic folder from where she hid it under her new mattress, and she leaves her room, tucking it under her arm. She gets like four steps down the hall before another door opens, and already an accusing voice says, “What’s that?”

Steph whirls around.

“None of your business,” she says. Tim makes a face at her and she makes the same one back, because she is very mature. To prove her maturity, she slides down the banister on her way to the kitchen.

Dick and Cass are in there, doing the dishes. Steph watches them for a second and then says, “Why do you have dishes at this hour?” ‘This hour’, upon checking, turns out to be almost noon, but nobody wakes up early in this house.

“Breakfast for Alfred,” Cass says.

“You can do that?” Steph asks, thinking that Alfred would get offended if someone tried to cook for him.

“You can today,” Dick says, shrugging, and Steph frowns, realizes that they ganged together to make breakfast on Father’s Day for Alfred and didn’t invite her.

It was probably an accident, she reasons, but then she remembers Tim and turns to face him.

“Why didn’t you make breakfast for Alfred?”

“I was sleeping,” he says.

“He’s impossible to wake up so we called it a lost cause,” Dick says. “We have extra pancakes, though, help yourself.”

Steph is still a little affronted, but she knows that she’s the newest person in the house and she’s only staying here until her mom’s done with rehab and whatever, so they probably didn’t think she’d want to be included, even though Alfred is everyone’s grandpa, even Babs’s. She goes to pick up a pair of pancakes and bites into one, deciding syrup can wait, and she leaves before they can rope her into conversation. Besides, she’s a little scared they’ll start referring to whatever plans they have with Bruce, and she doesn’t know how she’s supposed to react.

She heads to Bruce’s study and pushes open the door, glad to find him in there. She thinks if she had to search for him she’d probably lose her nerve and chicken out. Bruce glances up for like half a second and then looks back at the computer, and she takes a deep breath and steps inside fully.

Now or never, she thinks, and so she marches right up to him and slams the yellow folder on the desk.

“What’s this?” Bruce says, and Steph isn’t really sure how to explain, so she says, “It’s, uh, I found it when I was packing my stuff, and it’s...it’s from a while ago, but I thought you might, um…”

She trails off as he picks up the folder and opens it, raising an eyebrow at the contents from inside. She kinda wants to look at his face, but also totally doesn’t want to do that, so instead she looks at the desk, and opens her dumb mouth back up. “They always used to have us do Father’s Day cards at school or whatever and I never wanted to make one for Arthur so I made those instead ‘cause...well I don’t really remember why but whatever I thought you might want to see them.”

“Stephanie,” Bruce says, and she shuts up and bites her lip, looking up at him. “You...made these?”

“Yeah,” she says. He looks back down at the cards in his hands, all spread out--even the one that was intended for Arthur that Steph never sent. He touches the one from kindergarten. “Um. You can keep them.”

Bruce stands up. Steph isn’t really sure at all what he’s thinking, but he steps away from his chair and wraps his arms around her, holds her tight.

“Thank you,” he whispers.

“Happy Father’s Day,” she says, and when he squeezes her she closes her eyes, exhales, and squeezes him back.

(based on this post x) (ao3 here x)

#(posts fathers day fic in december)#stephanie brown #bruce wayne #brotp: slap #my writing #long post

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hockeylvr59 · 3 years

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Hi. Number 1: taking a rain walk with cale. You can choose the time. Thank you !

So with all the UMass content I've been digging up I decided to take a trip back in time with this one. So we're setting this fall 2018 when Cale was a sophomore at UMass. I'm lowkey in love with this one. Big thanks to @bqstqnbruin for the help with this plot concept. (1,610 words)

~~~~~~~~

Ellie was so going to owe you for this. Dodging beer spilling out of a cup, you pushed your way through the crowded frat house, wincing as the volume of the music somehow got even louder. Your roommate Ellie had made plans to meet a guy here tonight and she’d pleaded with you to come with her in case he didn’t show or things didn’t turn out how she expected. But, as soon as she had spotted him in the crowd upon your arrival, she had disappeared and you hadn’t seen her since. That had been nearly two hours ago. Like a good friend you’d sent her a text twenty minutes or so ago checking in and you had just gotten a reply of a thumbs up and that they had left to go to a diner off-campus.

Of course, they had. A heads-up text would have been nice.

Though you wanted to be mad at her, it was hard to be when you knew how excited she had been for this date. Still, a packed frat house on a Friday night was one of the last places you wanted to spend your time. Trying to weave your way toward the door, you tripped over something and landed smack against a solid chest. A pair of hands quickly reacted, catching you and helping you regain your balance. Quickly you mumbled an apology, though it wasn’t your fault there was a drunk person sleeping on the floor with their leg in the middle of the path.

“No worries, you okay?” A deep voice questioned, causing you to look up. When you did, your eyes met a pair of reddened cheeks that were familiar to anyone on campus who didn’t live under a rock.

Cale Makar.

The hockey team’s superstar defenseman who was back for his second season despite the chance to make the jump to the NHL.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.” You stated, snapping out of your daze. “Just need to get out of here.”

Cale’s gaze softened in concern and he quickly worked using his taller frame to clear a path for you until you reached the slightly less crowded front porch. It was still loud outside but at least you didn’t have to scream to hear yourself think. Slowing, you leaned against a railing just trying to catch your breath and rid your senses of some of the stench of cheap alcohol. You didn’t expect him to stay close so when he leaned against the railing beside you, you were slightly surprised.

“Did we have Western Thought together last fall?” He asked after a moment, the question catching you off guard. You thought back to your schedule last year and then bit your lip considering that query.

“Was that Tuesday/Thursday morning, Herter Hall?” Cale must have nodded because he spoke again a moment later, a smile evident in his voice.

“I thought you looked familiar.” He mused, offering out a hand. “Cale.” He greeted, introducing himself officially. Introducing yourself in return, you asked him what he had thought about the ridiculous question that had been on the final for that class. You may not remember much but that question had screwed over half the class and you certainly hadn’t forgotten the stress you’d felt waiting for grades to drop after that exam.

That question sparked an entire conversation and before you knew it, it was almost 1am.

“I should really head back to my dorm.” You admitted a bit reluctantly. “Thanks for the chat and making this party not a total bust for me.” You joked, looking up at the sky which was starting to look like rain.

“What dorm are you in?” Cale asked, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Grayson.” You replied with a shrug even as Cale’s eyes went a little wide.

“I’ll walk you.” He immediately declared.

“You don’t have to do that. I’ll be fine.” You assured him. Grayson was all the way across campus and you weren’t sure where he was living.

“I’ll walk you,” Cale repeated, signaling that he wasn’t about to take no for an answer. “It’s late and you shouldn’t walk across campus by yourself, not with all these idiots around.” The way he phrased his explanation showed that he knew you could handle yourself but that didn’t mean that you should have to.

“Fine. Thank you.” You declared, shooting him a slightly exasperated look. Cale gave you a semi-dimpled smile and motioned for you to lead the way. As you walked toward the admin building and fine arts center you continued chatting about everything and nothing all at once. Conversation came easy and even if you didn’t want to admit it, you were a bit taken at how smart Cale was.

You had reached the western edge of the pond, with the intention of cutting across the northern shore to make your way to your residential area, when a loud boom sounded across the sky out of nowhere. Before you could even react, torrential rain was pelting you both, soaking you to the bone. Quickly, Cale herded you over toward the library and inside. The building was quiet as he guided you up to one of the study floors murmuring that you should wait out some of the heavy rain. Knowing that you really should get home and to bed, you wanted to protest but then a flash of lightning cracked across the sky. Maybe you should wait out the storm a little bit.

Moving into a study room overlooking the pond, you shivered slightly from the air conditioning blowing through the building.

“Come here,” Cale murmured from the spot on the floor where he had settled. For a moment you eyed the chairs but then decided maybe you shouldn’t get them soaked too and the floor was probably a better option. Though you sat with some space between you and Cale, it wasn’t long before he was tugging you closer murmuring that he can’t keep you warm if you’re so far away. With another chill racing up your spine, you shifted to press against him, sighing softly at the warmth he radiated even through wet clothes.

The two of you sat in silence for a while before you heard Cale murmur your name softly.

“Yeah?” You questioned, trying not to yawn.

“Did you know that the architect of this building forgot to account for the weight of the books in his plans and that’s why only every other floor has them?” Cale stated.

“One that was totally random.” You teased softly. “Two, that’s 1000% a myth.”

When you peeked up at Cale, his cheeks were even pinker than before and they matched his lips as he did this little mindless tick you had picked up on already.

“Totally true.” He defends softly, making you giggle slightly.

“It’s not but that’s okay, you aren’t the first person to buy that myth.” You assured him. Though you didn’t notice, Cale’s face fell into a bit of a frown and he murmured under his breath that there goes trying to impress you.

Watching the rain again, you couldn’t help but yawn. Slowly your head drifted down to rest against Cale’s shoulder and you must have dozed off because the next thing you knew, Cale was murmuring your name again, trying to wake you.

“C’mon sleepy. The rain has let up a bit. This is probably our best chance to get you home.” He explained, urging you to sit up before he moved from underneath you and then pulled you up onto your feet.

Leaving the library, you started walking again through the rain, Cale chattering non-stop. You were sure it was his attempt to keep you awake and you appreciated it. At the same time though, his voice was so soothing, you almost wanted to curl right back up against his shoulder and fall asleep while he talked to you.

By the time you finally reached your dorm, it was nearly 2:30 in the morning. With the rain, a normal half-hour walk had taken three times as long. Standing in a sheltered overhang, you turned to thank Cale for making sure you got home safely.

“Definitely the most interesting first date I think I’ve been on,” Cale replied with a tired smile, his eyes still somehow bright. When your brain processed his words, your jaw dropped.

“Date?” You prodded causing Cale to hum and shrug, glancing down at his watch.

“I mean we’ve spent the last three and a half hours together talking and walking through campus. Pretty sure we can call that a date.” He insisted. Butterflies swarmed in your stomach and you ran your fingers through your wet hair. Cale was calling this a date. That was...wow.

“A date huh…” You finally breathed. “Guess that means I better get a good night kiss. Though technically it’s definitely early morning now.” Cale’s fingers slid around your waist to press against your lower back gently as he crowded closer into your space and after a moment of his eyes searching yours, he leaned down for a kiss, his lips pressing against yours chastely but firmly.

One kiss turned into two and then three before your yawning caused Cale to pull away. After asking for your number so he could take you on a non-rain date, he kissed your cheek and murmured for you to go take a warm shower, put on dry clothes, and then get some sleep.

Your lips still tingled slightly as you climbed into bed and you couldn’t help but think that maybe you were the one that was going to have to owe Ellie.

#cale makar blurb #cale makar #cale makar imagine #colorado avalanche imagine #colorado avalanche #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #cavalanche

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dreaming-about-fanfictions · 3 years

Text

Choose Me Instead II Draco Malfoy x Reader II Chapter 20 of 27: Love

Summary: Pretending to be in a relationship with Draco Malfoy to get back at your ex might have not been the smartest idea you ever had. Especially during your last year of Hogwarts where you should be focusing on exams and your future plans. However, you were just pretending. There was no way in hell you could actually catch feelings for someone like Malfoy. … Right?

CHOOSE ME INSTEAD MASTERLIST CHOOSE ME INSTEAD PLAYLIST

A/N: I posted this a little later because on Sunday I had the idea to do this. If you want to participate, feel free to do so! I received some amazing ideas and messages already! Thank you so much for them! Now, enjoy this little chapter <3

Words: 3070 Pairings: Draco Malfoy x fem!Reader, post war Warnings: none

Three weeks after the Winter Dance …

On a Tuesday evening in March, clouds gathered over Hogwarts and darkened the sky. The few students who had been outside despite the cold wind had mere seconds to sprint to the castle before the gates to the heavens opened. Rain began to pour down, drenching everyone. You were one of those students.

You cursed once you got inside and whipped out your wand to cast a drying spell while hoping your Potions book wasn’t completely ruined. Even though Snape was no longer around to retract at least fifty housepoints for it, you still didn’t want to deal with Slughorns disappointed look that he’d give you. “Oh thank Merlin,” you mumbled when you saw that it was fine.

“Here, you lost this.”

You almost dropped your book when you heard the familiar voice. “Hermione!”, you said surprised.

The brown-haired girl stood in front of you, holding out a quill that had slipped out of your bag when you reached for the wand. She smiled awkwardly.

“Thank you.” You took the quill from her. She nodded but stayed silent, burying her hand in the pocket of her jacket. It had been three weeks since you last talked to her. The morning after the Winter Dance, you had tried to get her to talk to you. She refused and sent Ginny to let you know that she needed space. You tried one more time a few days later but still – Hermione didn’t want to see you.

Your own emotions shifted from guilt that you didn’t tell her, to anger that she didn’t want to speak to you for three freaking weeks, and then back to guilt because you knew you screwed up with your lies. Now that she was here, you understood that you just missed her. You missed not being able to talk and laugh with your friend.

“Where are you going?”, Hermione asked.

“To the common room.”

She hesitated and looked back and forth between you and the stairs behind you. “Can I come?”

Relief washed over you. That could only mean that she wanted to talk. “Sure,” you replied and smiled at her.

You walked together in silence for the first pair of stairs. Only when you turned a corner and entered the hall that lead to the next stair, did she speak up. Her words surprised you.

“I’m sorry.”

You looked at her, stunned. “What for?”

Her gaze was fixated on her shoes. “For not coming to you earlier. I was embarrassed.”

You frowned. “I’m the one who lied to you, Hermione.”

“I know,” she sighed, still not looking at you. “But I overreacted.”

You snorted. Not because you found this situation particularly amusing – to be honest, it was ridiculous. You stopped walking, Hermione did the same.

“You didn’t.” You shook your head. “Seriously. I should have told you the day it first happened. You’re my friend and what I did was wrong.” You paused. “I hurt you. And I’m deeply sorry for that.”

For the first time since you started walking, Hermione looked at you. She pursed her lips but there was no anger written on her face. When she spoke, there was certainty in her voice: “I know. What you did wasn’t okay.”

You couldn’t agree more. “You’re right.”

“I’m not mad that you slept with him, you know.”

“You’re not?”

“No. Although … it’s a little weird.” She wrinkled her nose and you chuckled softly.

“No, but I’m not mad about it”, you friend repeated herself. “He didn’t cheat on me. We weren’t dating then and …”, she hesitated, “I had my fun as well.”

You raised an eyebrow at her confession. “Oh?”

You could have sworn that a soft shade of red colored her cheeks but then again, it was rather dark in the hallway. Hermione gave a dismissive wave of her hand. “I’ll tell you about that later.”

Before you had the chance to say anything else, she continued: “Both of you obviously didn’t handle … the end of your whatever it was that you two had very well. I had my suspicions to be honest. You were both acting strange and not talking to each other for months.”

“Why didn’t you ask me?”

Hermione shrugged. “I thought that if my suspicions were correct … you would have come to me.”

You looked down when you heard that. “I’m sorry, Hermione.”

“Also, it sucked hearing it from Malfoy. Of all the people who could’ve told me.” She shook her head. “See, that’s the next thing. Malfoy knew, Ron knew, Ginny and you knew … It hurt being the only who didn’t know.”

“I’m sorry.” You didn’t know what else to say.

“It’s fine,” Hermione replied, her voice a little softer now.

You looked up at her. “It’s not.”

“It is,” she smiled at you. “Honestly, I’m not mad anymore. It just took me some time to realize it.”

You stared at her, somehow expecting this to be a test or a joke. You couldn’t believe she would forgive you for lying so long so easily. However, Hermione simply stood in front of, waiting for you to react.

“I missed you so much.” The words came from deep down within you, along with the relief and happiness that flooded your mind right this second. You pulled her into a tight hug.

Hermione laughed before returning the hug. “Missed you too,” she then mumbled.

“What about Ron though?”, you asked after a while and took a step back.

“What about him?”

You tilted your head. “Did you talk about it?”

“No,” she said calmly but couldn’t hide the way the corners of her lips twitched. “No, he deserves to suffer a little longer.”

Only one more lie left.

***

Four weeks after the Winter Dance …

“We already had a lesson on Amortentia in our sixth year, Professor,” Pansy whined and the sound instantly caused you to roll your eyes.

“Your exams are here sooner than you think,” Professor Slughorn replied, facing the blackboard. “I believe a little repetition will do you good.”

Exams. The word caused you to crinkle your nose. They were so close and yet you felt so far behind. It seemed as all you did was study but between the fight with Hermione and the drama with Astoria, your attention was certainly split.

Astoria … You looked over to her table where she stood next to Millicent Bulstrode, nose buried in the Potions book. Draco had told you some of what went down between him and her in the Room of Requirements. He said that he knew the reason why she wanted to marry him but he had also no right to let you know. It didn’t help your restless mind. You spent hours speculating and brooding over it. Was she sick? Would her parents disown her if she didn’t marry Draco? You wouldn’t be surprised by something like that. Was she pregnant?

None of your theories made any sense to you and Draco was steadfast. He didn’t comment on them or give you any more clues. You had to respect his ability to keep a secret.

“I think I did it wrong, can you smell anything?”, Theos voice pulled you from your thoughts.

The Slytherin came up to your table. Since the Winter Dance, you had spent increasingly more time with Draco and he had sneaked you in their common room on more than one occasion. It had resulted in you becoming friendly with Nott.

“Where’s Blaise?”, you asked as you stirred the liquid in the cauldron. “Isn’t he supposed to help you with it?”

Theo shrugged. “Probably off and begging Astoria to go to Hogsmeade with him.”

You chuckled and when you looked over to her table, sure enough, Blaise leaned against it, talking to her. “That’s still going on?”

Theo followed your gaze. “Very unsuccessfully, but yes.” He looked back at you. “Sorry.”

“For what?”

“The part of where he’s unsuccessful,” he explained. “She’s set on marrying Draco.”

You shrugged and reached too add the missing ingredient. “I’m set on having pudding for dessert tonight but it probably won’t be served, so let’s see what happens.”

The potion was supposed to be finished now and you leaned over it, carefully.

“You smell something?”, Theo asked again.

You closed your eyes and sniffed. Irritated, you opened them again and looked to your side, expecting Draco to be there. The scent of his cologne, mixed with mint and the smell of summer rain, was overwhelming. He wasn’t there. No, he stood a few feet away, talking to Professor Slughorn. Huh.

“And?”, Theo began to sound a little impatient.

“Yes,” you nodded, still slightly confused. “I smell something.”

He groaned. “It’s my mistake then and not the book’s.” Before he went back to his table, he asked curiously: “What do you smell?”

“Your shampoo, Nott, what else?”, you joked. Just in this moment, Draco came back, catching the last bit of your conversation.

Theo chuckled. “Not in front of Draco, darling.” Then he winked at you and turned around.

The smile still on your face, you looked at Draco. “And? Did Slughorn know?”

Judging by the sour look on his face, the Professor hadn’t been able to answer his question.

“Seriously?”, Draco asked.

You tilted your head. “What?”

“Did you smell his shampoo?”

You stared at him. He avoided your eyes and instead flicked through the pages of the book, pretending as if he was reading something about Amortentia. You saw right through him.

“Are you jealous, Malfoy?”

His hand stopped in mid-air of the page for a second before he cleared his throat. “Of course not,” he replied quickly.

Your smile returned, turning into a full-size grin. “You’re jealous!”

“What would I be jealous about?!”, he sneered. “We’re not dating so …”

The grin stayed plastered on your face. “Right, we’re not but still you’re –”

“Don’t we have work to do?”, he interrupted you and sat down abruptly. “We still need to write down what we did.”

You giggled softly before you sat down next to him and grabbed your quill.

“It was just a joke,” you whispered while writing.

Draco didn’t reply and you were wondering if he had heard you. “What does it smell like for you then?”, he said after a while.

You hesitated. The smell of mint still wafting over to you. “I can’t smell anything today,” you lied. “Still fighting that cold from last week, I suppose.”

“Hmm,” Draco made.

“What do you smell?”

“You, Y/L/N.”

“Right,” you chuckled at his joke. “No, seriously, what do you smell?”

No more words came from him, only a wink. You rolled your eyes and chuckled again, pushing down the strange feeling emerging inside of you. When the class was over, you walked to the Great Hall together. Dinner was served and you had pudding for dessert.

***

Five weeks after the Winter Dance …

“Do you love him?” Hermione sat down across from you and dropped her books on the table.

You didn’t look up from your own studies. “Draco?”

“No.”

You looked up. Oops.

“Ron, of course,” Hermione explained.

“Of course.” Why on earth would you think of Draco first at that question? But more importantly right now – why on earth would Hermione think that you loved Ronald Weasley?! You shook your head. “No, why?”

“I’m trying to understand … your thing.”

You closed your book. “Can I be honest?”

Hermione raised her eyebrows. “Are you serious right now, Y/N?”

Right, honesty was probably the only thing she expected from you these days. “I had a crush on him. I admit that,” you shrugged. You tapped on the cover of the book in front of you with your fingertips, before you continued. “And it hurt when he just dropped me like a hot potato.” The memory, even though it began to fade and become more and more irrelevant, still stung a little. “I don’t love him.” You looked into her eyes. “Never have.”

Hermione nodded slowly. “What about him then?”

“He loves you.” You smiled. “Everyone knows that.”

“But when he’s around you …”, she began.

“He doesn’t love me,” you interrupted her. “He’s just pissed that I’m with Draco.”

Hermione slumped against the back of the chair. “You really think that’s all?”

“Yes.” It was the truth. “His ego is hurt and he got confused. He loves you though. Did he apologize to you?”

Finally, Hermione smiled. A soft, shy smile. “A thousand times. He sent me love letters. God, they were so ridiculous.” She raised a hand to her mouth to hide the smile.

You grinned and reached for her hand. “I think you should give him a chance.”

“I love him so much,” your friend admitted with a soft sigh. Then the smile on her face vanished. “But what if … what if it happens again? With a different girl?”

“Then I will personally kick his butt.” You squeezed her hand tightly and Hermione chuckled. She looked down at the table as if she was thinking about something.

“Do you love him then?” She raised her head again.

“Who?”, you asked, knowing damn well who she meant. However, you were certain your friend knew the answer to her question already.

***

Six weeks after the Winter Dance …

It was cold in the dorm that Draco shared with Blaise and Theo. The fact that you were wrapped in nothing but a black towel, didn’t help much with it. You shivered when you closed the bathroom door behind you and quickly ran over to the warm bed where your pretend-boyfriend still waited under the covers.

“Can you believe it’s almost April?”, Draco asked while he reached for the sweets on his nightstand. “School is nearly over.”

“Exams are almost here,” you replied, climbed over him and slipped under the blanket.

The Slytherin rolled his eyes as his chewed on another piece of candy. You wondered if they were still yours from the first weekend in Hogsmeade last year. Then Draco turned to face you and propped himself up on his elbows. “Stop playing scared,” it was almost a demand, “you’ll do great and you know it. I barely got to see you these last few weeks.”

“We saw each other every day, Draco,” you countered with a grin.

“It felt less.” He let himself fall on his back and put one arm behind his head.

“Did you make a decision yet?” The question left your mouth before you had time to think about it. This was a sensitive topic for him. Too many uncertainties in his life.

“I always have the option to marry rich,” he joked, looking at the ceiling.

You snorted. “Ha ha.”

***

Seven weeks after the Winter Dance …

“You’re staring. Again.”

Draco and you had found yourselves in his dorm once again. Theo and Blaise spent an awful amount of time at the library lately, giving you the freedom not to rely on the Room of Requirements so often.

It was a Saturday morning. You wished you could tell whether it was a beautiful spring day with birds chirping and beams of sunlight falling through the window – but from here, you were only able to see the green water of the lake.

“I’m not staring,” Draco mumbled. “I’m admiring.”

You smiled and when your eyes met his, a warm feeling spread in your chest. A feeling, you had experienced a lot more often in the past weeks. Sneaking up on you, always in the back of your mind as it tried to tell you something. Something, you already knew but were too scared to put a name on it. So instead, you pushed it back and tried to ignore it. “What are you admiring then?”

“You.” He whispered. “You’re beautiful.”

You pressed yourself closer to his body.

“I love you.”

At first you thought that you had accidentally fallen asleep again and this was some sort of weird dream your brain produced. But your eyes were open and you felt how Draco stopped breathing next to you; surely, this wasn’t a dream. The words had actually left his mouth. He had said them. They were out.

Oh Merlin.

You sat up abruptly. “I’m sorry, what?”

His eyes were wide as he got up as well, turning his back towards you. He walked over to the closet with stiff movements and frantically searched through his drawers. “I don’t know where this came from,” he said in a hardened voice. “Forget it.”

I love you.

The words rung in your ears like the sound of a pot crashing to the ground. You stared at his back. And then, when his eyes flickered over to you, the ringing stopped

I love you.

You were suddenly very calm. “Draco –”

“Forget it,” he interrupted you and slipped over a black shirt. “Just do me the favor and pretend I never said anything.”

“Draco –”

“Draco!” The door flew open and crashed against the wall. You flinched.

Theo stood in the doorway, breathing heavily as if he had just sprinted up the stairs. “Oh, shit, sorry guys,” he exclaimed when he saw you and quickly looked away.

You needed a second to realize that you were sitting in Dracos bed – completely naked. Letting out a surprised gasp, you pulled up the covers.

Draco quickly stepped in front of him, blocking his view. “What do you want, Theo?”, he sneered, making it clear that this was not the right time.

Theo cleared his throat. “Okay, uhm,” he began, “Don’t panic but …”

Draco crossed his arms in front of his chest. “But what?”

You would later on call it intuition – but a part of you knew that the moment Theo stepped in, something would change. The tranquility and happiness between Draco and you had been going on for way too long already. You had pushed away the fears and uncertainty and allowed yourself to simply be. You should have known that it would come back to bite you in the ass.

“Spit it out,” Draco demanded.

Over his shoulders, Theo looked at you the same way he had a few weeks back during that Potions lesson. Fear gripped your heart. Sorry, his eyes seemed to say.

“Your mother is in the common room, Draco. She’s talking to Astoria.”

So this was the way it ends.

***

A/N: I hope you liked it! <3 Thank you so much for reading! Quick reminder, if you want to participate in the little thing I’m doing rn, I’d love it. It gives you the chance to add your own personal touch to this story <3

CHAPTER 21

HP Masterlist General Masterlist

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ladyeliot · 3 years

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Exceeding expectations

Valentine’s Day (Masterlist)

Request: Anonymous: Hey this is for the Valentine’s Day promps! Tony, ⚡️, enemies to lovers, 4. & 11.

4. “I bought a dress, shaved my legs, and put makeup on. I refuse to be stood up.”

11. “Cupid just shot me in the ass with an arrow!”

Pairing: Student!Tony Stark x Fem!Student!Reader

Summary: All your life you have been focused on your studies, for you that was all that mattered, but during your third year of university things take a sharp turn and love appears in your life.

Warnings: College AU. SMUT ⚡️

Word count: 7254

A/N: This is very long! It has gotten out of hand. Sorry for my spelling and grammatical mistakes, English is not my native language, I am learning.

At the age of thirteen you had discovered that love, or rather what adults used to call love, because you barely knew what those four letters meant, doesn't always bring you happiness. Jason Filton had sent you a note in the middle of Biology class informing you that you were no longer dating and that his new girlfriend was Sarah Rickman. After reading it, you threw the paper over his head as hard as you could, making all your classmates laugh and you ended up in the headmaster's office. At that moment you decided that love was rubbish, as well as everything else that had to do with it, so you chose to dedicate your life to more important things, such as your studies, and that's how you got a place in one of the best universities in the country.

For the first two years of aeronautical engineering you abhorred any distraction that would make you lose track of your own path. No parties, no conversations of more than ten minutes with anyone that weren't helpful to your future, no going home for holidays, it was all a waste of time that tended to break up your daily routine. Your university lifestyle tended to be unconventional, and unconventional didn't tend to go unnoticed in those places, and it didn't help that you were a year ahead of everyone else and your grades were above average. It seemed that everything stood in your way, but you used to overcome obstacles with great ability, you didn't let anything get to you, especially coming from society.

In the third year things changed, you were offered the possibility of taking two parallel degrees, as many subjects were validated, there was no evidence that you accepted, so in your weekly planning began to appear subjects of mechanical engineering. At no point did it ever occur to you that this choice would bring with it some murky consequences that you did not have in mind. A smarty-pants is not always well accepted in a class when there is already a person who occupies that position, there he was, the cause of all your future ills during the university year ahead, Tony Stark.

It's not that you hadn't competed with people like this before, well, you'd never really come across someone like this before, he was worthy of analysis, one of a kind, any student of psychology or even anthropology would be willing to do a doctorate on him. Although he obviously wouldn't come out of that research alive.

A week after attending those classes, you discovered that he was the same age as you, so he was also advanced in Mechanical Engineering, but the most surprising thing was that he already had a PhD in Physics, which made you wonder what you were doing wrong. Even so, the most curious thing is that he hardly paid any attention in class, he spent the whole time chatting amicably with his colleagues in the back row, but every time he was asked he answered the professor's questions correctly and wittily. He was a scholar, and that got on your nerves, although it was easy for you to hide it.

You avoided getting in his way at all times, but it was very easy for him to do so whenever you were in class, and one point in your favour was that when classes were over you used to lock yourself in your bedroom, and you were lucky that your classmate hardly ever came around, so those 15 square metres were all for you. But even so, the biggest drawback of your third year was not the competition with Tony Stark, it was someone else, James Barton.

James was a boy who shared some Mechanical Engineering classes with you, he was a year older than you and it was more than evident that he was a real inconvenience, because from the first day you entered the Micro/Nano Engineering Laboratory and he sat next to you, you knew you were in serious trouble. You felt the same as when Jason Filton at the beginning of eighth grade invited you for an ice cream in the cafeteria, that's right, that was the closest thing to love you had ever felt, that's why you knew you were in serious trouble.

During the first few months there were no clear developments, mostly because you never noticed any interest on his part. In your case, you hid with all your might the excitement you felt every time Tuesday morning came and you had to share a lab with him, the last thing you wanted was to look like a desperate high school teenager every time you saw him. But by magic, or perhaps fate, things gave you an incentive for your relationship as classmates to evolve.

Apparently James had been down with the flu for a week, so he was unable to attend class that Tuesday, it was obvious to you from the first moment you saw his empty seat. Therefore, Mr. Gregory thought it appropriate, since you always sat next to him, that you could bring him the material he had offered during that class. You were grateful that he thought there was at least a friendship between the two of you, it was an incipient one for you. You were a little reluctant at first, mostly because you didn't think it was appropriate to introduce yourself to him in his dormitory when you had barely spoken a word to each other beyond a morning greeting and a goodbye when you left class, but you chose to accept it as a personal challenge.

It was not complex to find out which dorm you were staying in, nor to find out which room you were in, the complexity was in making proper social conversation, as your social skills were far from what any young person could wish for. Nor did the male gazes cast upon you as you entered the building and began to walk down those corridors to the third floor help, you didn't know if you were in a dorm, a circus or a petting zoo. It made you wonder how those people had managed to get a place at MIT.

You positioned yourself in front of the wooden door with a set of papers and notes from Mr. Gregory's class in your hands, replaying over and over in your mind how you could start an ordinary conversation, but before you could knock on the door someone behind you thought you needed help so with his knuckles he rapped on the wood.

"If you don't knock no one will open the door," said a boy flashing you a friendly smile, perhaps the first you had ever seen in that place, as he continued on his way.

"Come in!" exclaimed a voice behind that door, you knew at that moment it was James.

Taking a breath you slowly rested your hand on the doorknob and turned it slightly, leaving only a small gap to put your head through.

"I'm sorry," you began, "I don't mean to intrude. I'm just dropping off the notes and materials Mr. Gregory gave in class today. He thought they might come in handy for next week's class."

James was lying on the bed, you found that the atmosphere was a little heavy with sweat mixed with his particular scent with hints of cinnamon, but the moment he discovered who his visitor was he sat up and started to pick up some tissues that were scattered on the sheets.

"God... I'm sorry, this is a mess," he said, taking the wastepaper basket in his hands and stuffing everything he could find into it, his tone totally congested.

"No, don't worry about it," you added quickly, stepping into the room. "Don't mind me, I was just coming to bring you the notes and I was just leaving."

"I'm sorry," he repeated, collapsing back onto the bed from flu-like exhaustion.

"That's all right," you gave him a small smile and put the material you had brought on the desk nearest his bed. "I guess you'll understand everything, but if you don't understand anything or need anything at all you can tell me."

"Thank you very much," he said leaning back against the wall, "I appreciate it."

You nodded smiling at him, thankful that the situation hadn't been too complicated, at least so far, so you decided not to push your luck and head for the door.

"Wait," he exclaimed as best he could behind you, causing your footsteps to stop and you to turn back to him. "Would you like to go out for a drink sometime?"

During those moments you were trying to process his request to buy you a drink the dormitory door opened with a thunderous bang against the wall, bringing you face to face with your beloved Mechanical Engineering partner.

"Oops, sorry, am I interrupting something?" he said curiously, contemplating you both gradually.

"Could you not give those bumps every time you come in?" complained James almost incomprehensibly due to congestion.

"Sure mate," having said that he gingerly closed up and walked over to his bed, picked up a book, lay down and pretended to browse through it.

"So?" James looked back up at you waiting for an answer.

It had all happened so fast that your mind had not yet come to terms with the situation, but all you had to do was say "sure", "yes, I'd love to" or "of course, that would be fine", but you only managed to nod with a small smile.

"That's a yes?" he asked trying to clarify your intentions.

"Sure," you managed to say between nods, which managed to extract a smile from your partner. "So... I'll see you next week in class. I hope you get better."

To your surprise you had overcome that personal challenge with great talent, you knew that if your sister were present she would award you the medal for bravery, not only for having talked to a boy, but for having managed to get a possible future date with great elegance, and without hardly expecting it. But what you didn't realise, or at least not until first thing on Wednesday morning, was that you were in for some curious comments from your opponent about the previous day's events.

"So you're going out with Barton," he said almost before he sat down behind you. "I thought your social life was limited to striking up a conversation with the lady at the post office one Sunday a month."

Over time you had learned that the best thing you could do was to ignore that annoying little voice that sat behind you every Wednesday and tried to interrupt you every time you were offering an explanation during class. It was the best way you had found to get through those first few months with him.

But it wasn't all that simple, especially when you and James started a friendship that developed into something a little more serious just before the Christmas holidays. Like any other relationship where two people are attracted to each other the search for intimacy is normal and ordinary, during the third year of university you were lucky that your roommate was practically a ghost and you found the best place to have your own intimacy, because obviously you didn't know why Tony Stark was always in his bedroom, and when he wasn't he used to appear at the most inopportune moments, and worst of all without knocking.

"Are you crazy?" you exclaimed, hiding under the covers. "Don't you know how to knock?!"

"Oh, come on! It's nothing I haven't seen before," he said throwing himself on his bed. "Don't worry about me, I don't care."

At those moments you didn't know whether to get up and cross his face or just not show up there anymore, because things didn't stop there, he used to drag out the subject at hand and make inappropriate comments to you in class, such as "I hope you used protection" or "you forgot your bra" or "if you need any advice you know you can ask me for it". It was quite frustrating, because there was little you could do about it, just ignore him or else he would come over the top.

Apart from that everything seemed to work perfectly with James, or at least that's what it seemed to you, the two months that you had been together things were coming together without forcing them, you met every now and then to go out to eat, you took advantage of the moments you were alone to study and sometimes things generated moments of intimacy, it was the closest thing you had had to a love relationship, although your experience was very basic in that matter in question. So basic that you barely understood a lot of things and you could be very naive about anything to do with social relationships.

Discussions started to become your daily routine, they all came hand in hand because of your clashing characters, he used to have a very evolved social life, three times a week, he even skipped some classes because of the hangover that the night before he had self-inflicted, although you accepted his lifestyle, you didn't share it at all and his constant initiatives to integrate you in his environment didn't usually turn out as he expected. So a constant back and forth ensued from then on, which brought out a character you didn't like.

You began to hear rumours, which you tried to avoid, so as not to get caught in the net. These rumours ranged from whether James had hooked up with Nancy Skelton the night before to whether he had taken her to his room. So every time you sought an explanation he seemed to find himself sufficiently unwilling to offer one. The same thing happened on Valentine's Day.

You had been ignoring the rumours that were torpedoing your ears for two weeks, James had sworn and swore to you that nothing that was going around the halls of the college was true, that he hadn't done anything with anyone at the frat party. You, like an innocent fool, accepted his words, letting yourself be carried away by those green eyes that knew how to make your legs tremble. So that meant that the Valentine's dinner was still on. It was the first time you had bought a dress for a special occasion on your own, you didn't choose to take risks, black was always welcome and straps too, although you really did take risks with the neckline, and with the reddish lipstick. In short, you wanted me to discover that you could also become Nancy Skelton for a night, but apparently I didn't feel like checking it out. You waited for twenty minutes in your room for him to come and get you, but you thought something must have happened, so you headed off to find out for yourself.

Again, as if you were in a circus attraction, and you were the main attraction, you rushed through the corridors of the male dorm with whistles, sexist comments and cheers behind you. It was Thursday night, which meant that the party had started early that evening and most of them had traded blood for alcohol. You knocked on the door, waited a few seconds but no one answered, knocked again, but the case was ignored so you tried to turn the doorknob, but to your surprise the room was locked.

"What the hell?" you asked yourself.

Totally confused you look at your wristwatch, expecting to have got the time wrong, but no, it was 8:35 p.m. just thirty-five minutes later than you had arranged. You stood there for a couple of minutes waiting for him to appear out of nowhere, but the most you could find was one of his mates running past you in his underwear.

"Hey! Do you know where James Barton is?" you exclaimed trying to find an answer.

"In the common room!" he shouted without turning to look at you.

Looking like a complete idiot for not having considered that fact you walked back through the hallway in embarrassment in the direction of the common room, from where laughter, shouting and anything else that involved a group of boys with beer bottles around them was emanating. When you appeared through the door frame there was little time for your presence to be noticed.

"What have we got here?!"

"Oh my god, is this my birthday present?"

"Shut your mouths you idiots!" James stood up from his seat and walked towards you, with a subtle wobble in his body and his eyes completely rolled back in his head. "Is it time already?"

"It's actually been forty minutes," your arms were still crossed preventing his body from approaching yours. You could smell the stench of beer all over him, even his shirt was stained with a few drops.

"All right, all right," he said abandoning the bottle on a bookshelf. "Let's go."

Unable to hold on, and under the watchful eyes and laughter of his companions he offered you his arm, but lost his balance and fell to the ground, right at your feet. You took a deep breath and began to let it out very slowly, but you barely flinched, you couldn't believe what was happening to you at that moment. James tried to get up as best he could and stood back up in front of you, pulling his shirt back on.

"Come on," he made a second attempt.

"No, no James," you said in the most serious tone you could rescue from your broken insides. "I'm not going anywhere with you. But you know what, I bought a dress, shaved my legs, and put makeup on. I refuse to be stood up. So I'm going to take advantage of the reserve we have." You uncrossed your arms for the first time and pointed your finger at him. "Ah! And in case you haven't made it clear, it's over between us."

The cheers went up like you'd just scored a touchdown in the middle of the national finals, but you just kept your composure and got out of the place as quickly as possible. You were so pissed off about the situation, as well as yourself, that you felt the sting running through your veins. You asked yourself over and over again how you had been so stupid as to get into this situation, you, but you couldn't find a coherent answer. You assumed that smoke must be billowing from your head as you cut your way through the labyrinthine corridors to get out of the building as quickly as possible, but just around the corner the one person who could complicate things appeared.

"Hey!" he exclaimed behind you, picking up his pace and coming up beside you. "I was thinking, why go to dinner alone when you can have good company?"

You turned your head to the right, flashing him the most incoherently terrified look you could extract from yourself at the moment, but Tony didn't seem to care enough because even that didn't stop his grin from being wiped off his face.

"Are you kidding me?" your footsteps were rather light. "Oh, of course not! Do you really think I'll accept you coming to dinner with me?"

"Do you have someone better to go with?" his arrogance was pushing you over the edge.

"Of course! Me, alone," you said walking down the steps of the dorm and stepping outside.

"Really, by yourself on the most romantic night of the year, in a small Bistro in downtown Boston?" he said without breaking away from you. "That sounds really sad," he paused. "Do you have a car?"

"Welcome to the world, I don't need a man to go out to dinner whenever I feel like it and there are taxis," you walked as if you were going to miss the train of your life.

"Alright!" Tony definitely seemed to give up and fall in behind you, "See ya!"

You were so upset at the time that the only thing on your mind was to head for the campus taxi rank, and so you did. You were lucky that there were a couple of taxis waiting, so it didn't take you more than fifteen minutes to get to the door of the Bistro, located in the centre of Boston. The place was really charming to anyone's eyes, its round tables were perfectly placed to offer a cosy dinner to any of its diners. The candles offered that romantic air that anyone could want on that night of the year, and the aroma of traditional dishes was wafting from inside, whetting anyone's appetite.

You looked outside through the glass windows to see the couples who seemed to be enjoying a really lovely evening, it was at that moment that your spirited idea seemed to wane, for now it didn't seem to make much sense to go inside and dine completely alone under the watchful eyes of the waiters who wondered what had happened to put you in such a situation. The metre who stood at the door waiting to receive his customers watched you, for you were only a few feet away from him.

"Do you wish to wait inside, miss?" he asked with a pleasant smile.

"No, I..." you shook your head as if to leave.

"I'm here baby," a hand took hold of your waist. "Sorry it took me so long, it's impossible to park in this area."

As you heard that voice and felt that hand on your waist you knew immediately who it was, caramel coloured eyes accompanied by a wide smile were looking at you right next to you, you were about to give him a push if it wasn't for the fact that that metre opened the access door to the place and the last thing you wanted was to make a scene in the middle of the street.

"Did you have a reservation?" asked the waiter, checking the list.

"Yes, under the name of James Barton," said Tony, barely letting you speak.

"By all means, follow me," he began walking among the diners arriving at a small round table just outside the window, where he didn't take a second to light the candle that adorned the table. "Will you have something to drink in the meantime?"

"Yes, what wine do you recommend?" his way of waving his hand embarrassed you, he seemed to want to pretend to be knowledgeable.

"Oh, we have a Château Montrose, which goes perfectly with the meat tastings," he informed her.

"Perfect," nodded Tony, opening the menu.

As quickly as the waiter left, your attitude changed, expressing all your feelings with your face.

"Are you crazy?" you whispered, leaning towards him so that no one else could hear you. "Do you have any idea what that wine might be worth? But more importantly, what the hell are you doing? What are you doing here? What is this?"

"Oh come on, you know if I hadn't come you'd be back in college right now, don't you?" he cocked his head to the side and smiled at you, "Besides, the wine and dinner is on me, just enjoy the night."

"Enjoy the night? With you? Really?" you frowned, it was unbelievable to you that this was happening, but at least he'd had the courtesy to ditch those rock band t-shirts he used to wear and that messy hair, he'd shown up in a white shirt and black peg trousers.

The wine soon arrived and you'd be lying if you said it didn't help the dinner go more smoothly, allowing you to chat like two normal people. You found it hard to let go of that stubborn attitude you have inside you, but when you managed to put it aside you came to discover that Tony could be a lot of fun, even if he didn't share your sense of humour. You spent two hours discovering similarities in each other and also many differences, but it was a fruitful conversation, for the candle that lit the centre of your table was gone. You surprised yourself by observing more than once the features of his face, his honey-coloured hazel eyes, his upturned nose, his full lips and the way he smiled that seemed to bring out your colours every time he did it. But you blamed it all on the bottle of wine you had finished between the two of you.

When they brought the bill he barely allowed you to look at it, as he deposited his american express and smiled proudly at you.

"How about now...?"

"Shall we go back to campus?" you cut him off by stepping outside with a smile you couldn't keep off your face and pink cheeks.

"Well, actually, I was thinking..."

"I'm exhausted," you cut him off again, draping your jacket over your shoulders. "Besides, we have a class first thing in the morning."

" Okay!" he exclaimed in a melodious tone shoving his hands into his pockets. "Then we'll go back to campus."

In three minutes you found yourself sitting inside a red Porsche, which was going at a speed well above what you were used to. From the speakers came the sound of the Australian rock band AC/DC, but without knowing why Tony stopped the music.

"What's wrong?" you asked looking at him quizzically.

"I thought you didn't like it," he shrugged. "You were very quiet."

"First of all, I was listening, I like it," you began, "and secondly, in case I didn't like it you don't have to indulge me, this isn't a date, or anything like that."

"All right," he gave a half-smile and turned the music back on. "So this isn't a date..."

You smiled quizzically at his last words, trying to assume that it had been the alcohol that had given you that little smile and not your subconscious that seemed rather pleased by the last two hours you had spent together. During the drive you couldn't help but laugh when you discovered his imitations of Angus Young, the lead guitarist of the band you were listening to. But the situation changed when the Porsche pulled up right in front of your dorm, but before you had even taken off your seatbelt your door was open and Tony's hand was waiting to help you out.

"Thank you..." you whispered a little reluctantly. "Oh, you don't need to come with me, I think it's rather late, so I'd better..."

" Okay," he nodded smiling, again that wry smile that you knew was going to cause you to either want to come along or not.

"Alright," you said giving up and walking towards the inside of the building. "Don't even think about making a sound."

"Please, I'm all grave," he said behind you as you walked up the stairs, but he didn't keep his word as a stumble caused the sound to bounce all over the stairwell.

"Tony..." you reproached him.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he raised his hands in his defence.

Within a minute you had reached the door leading to your room and the awkward moment of saying goodbye was upon you, face to face.

"Okay, well... I guess thank you very much for... dinner and for walking me to the door," you nodded without knowing why in a slightly nervous tone.

"It's been my pleasure," he bowed, his voice sounding utterly confident, the opposite of yours.

"Great... so, I'll see you in class tomorrow," you rummaged through your bag to find your room key and when you had it in your hand and looked back up at him you discovered Tony's gesture biting his bottom lip, so your mouth let out, "or maybe..."

Why the hell had you blurted out those three words, 'Or maybe...' 'Or maybe what?' Your unconscious was working and coming alive in you, your inner self was saying that you didn't want to part with him so soon and that you couldn't wait for him to come into the room with you.

"Or maybe?" a half-smile came to life on his face, showing you part of his tongue running subtly across his upper lip that made your heart race. But finding that you didn't know what to say in that instant, he added, "Are you inviting me in?"

"I..." you looked a little hesitant, but found the courage to face the situation, "Only if... you feel like it."

There was a few moments of silence in which your wives seemed to be electrified.

"All right, but first I think you should know something," he added, breaking the moment of sexual tension that had built up. "The James rumours are true. I caught him and Nancy in our bedroom," he paused and tucked back a strand of hair that had come loose. "I should have told you before."

Why did you feel as if you knew deep down that this event was true? Maybe because it only took you three months of being with James to find out what he was really like, a total prick. But the funny thing is that when you took in those words, the sexual tension returned, making you forget everything he'd told you.

"Okay," you nodded with a blank stare, "So does that mean you don't want to come in?"

Again he made that arrogant smile present again that even as he brought his face close to yours to catch your lips did not disappear. He wrapped his arms tightly around your waist, crushing your body against the wooden door, preventing you from escaping from that place if you were planning to do so. It was really infuriating, to have his lips between yours and still feel the need to have him closer. You were so lost that the key slipped from your fingers, catching Tony's attention and he opted to pull away from you and bend down for it, you hated those seconds, but instantly you discovered his hands roaming the nakedness of your legs along with his lips rediscovering that new area.

"Come on Tony," you begged, resting your hand on the doorknob so as not to give in to his touch as it slowly crept up your thighs. "Open the door."

With a small nibble on the inside of your left thigh he pulled himself back up to your height to force your lips together as he tried his best to open the door as best he could in the dark. You felt the door offer you passage into a room dimly lit by the moonlight coming through the window. Tony closed the door behind you regardless of the noise he made in doing so.

" Damn it, Tony," you said, pulling away from him.

He took the opportunity to pull your dress up to your waist and wrap your legs around his waist to direct you towards your bed. The position is really intimate, but your head wasn't in the right place to dwell on it at the moment, there was practically nothing romantic about what was happening or what was going to happen in a few minutes. During the ride you opted to get rid of the black dress that seemed to be burning your skin by dropping it to the floor, revealing your naked body only covered by a pair of black panties.

"Shit. Cupid just shot me in the ass with an arrow!" he exclaimed finding his gaze at the level of your breasts.

Tony's body collapsed on the mattress, unable to take his eyes off your body, he maintained an upright, seated position, straddling him. Your gazes connected, in your eyes there was nothing but tension and lust, the passion of two young university students who needed to let off steam as soon as possible. However, inside you both hid a sense of nervousness that you kept from coming out.

Although you'd had sex with James before, you weren't exactly an expert on the subject, but something inside you was working, making it seem like you had no problem with it. In Tony's case you had heard things, but you didn't know how much of it was true or not. Still, Tony's kisses trailing his mouth down your neck were methodical, the way he brushed his tongue, bit into your neck and finished by pressing a soft kiss seemed to transport you to paradise, just as it did him, as you could see it in the hardness forming between your folds. A moan escaped your lips causing your hips to move gently to feel more firmly what was hidden in his trousers.

"Oh, god, do that again," Tony uttered against your ear in a completely gnawed tone of voice.

As if it was a command you were incapable of refusing, you did it again. His hands gripped your thighs firmly and his lips lingered on your breasts for the first time, brushing his lower lip over your right nipple, letting his intense breathing fan it. Your back arched bringing your breasts closer against his mouth, likewise your fingers found themselves stirring his hair. Tony simply played with his tongue against you offering equal attention to both breasts, making sure it was pleasurable, and he assumed he was succeeding thanks to the sounds coming from inside you.

Your hips kept making circular motions pressing against him trying to relieve the need that had built up in your core. Tony seemed to feel the same need so he parted his lips from your breasts and made a sudden movement grabbing your waist and trying to flip you over on the bed, trying because in the process he caused your head to hit the bedside table next to the mattress.

"Shit!" he exclaimed with a surprised look on his face, but your reaction generating a giggle in you, calmed him down expressing a smile. "I'm sorry, baby."

"It's okay," you say finally taking the position he wanted, lying down on the bed and finding Tony's body on top of yours.

You feel his lips moving over your skin again as he undoes his shirt, uncovering every part of his back with your fingertips. Your whole body was being a mess, the path of his tongue was heading south, his fingertips formed circles around your navel and his mouth had a clear direction, you felt it when his fingers brushed the top of your panties. All you could do was keep your eyes closed with your head on the pillow, bite your lower lip to stop the curses coming from inside you and press your legs against each other.

"Open your legs," he whispered against your skin and then placed a kiss on your lower belly, making all your nerves want to explode. "I'll be gentle, promise."

You feel those words crash against your skin, and as if they were a switch they are able to make your legs open subtly giving way to the fabric of your underwear sliding down your thighs. Tony decides to take his time until he manages to extract them through your feet as he doesn't take his eyes off your completely naked body exposed before him. He slid his fingers around the inside of your legs to again run his lips up and down them so that his hands were free to free himself from your trousers.

"Do you have...?" he asked moving his kisses up your thighs.

"What...?" the word almost came as a plea from your lips.

"Condoms," he said against your skin.

Something in your brain clicked, bringing you back to consciousness in those moments, you lifted your head off the pillow and looked directly into Tony's eyes that were practically over your core in those moments.

"Are you telling me you don't have any condoms?" you asked with a frown, a little gruff at the situation you were in.

"Well, I wasn't really planning on ending the night like this," he lifted his face with a smile from between your thighs, but as he watched your head fall frustratingly against the pillow he added, "Okay honey, don't worry, I'll take care of everything."

As quickly as he uttered those words he managed to get your lower limbs onto his shoulders, meeting again between your thighs. That was the first time you discovered what lips on your clitoris felt like. Your frustration was fully replaced by pleasure, a pleasure that made every part of your body tremble. You really didn't know how you could have missed this for so long. Your hands were fixed on either side of your body gripping the sheet tightly, but there came a point when you couldn't let him pull away from you, so you curled your fingers in his hair. Right now you had Tony Stark kissing and licking your most intimate part and all you could think about was that his movements wouldn't stop.

"Please... Don't stop," you urged between moans, feeling two fingers thrust inside you at your words.

You find yourself in complete disbelief, you're a mess, and you can't help but open your eyes and look at the one causing the disaster, who just like you was a complete mess against your intimacy. That action, along with the speed of his movements inside you and his moans against you, causes all your senses to connect and decide that the time has come to explode. You drop your head back down onto the pillow, arching your back in an attempt to establish a closer connection with him. You're exhaling, screaming his name between your moans without thinking about who might hear you. He continues to consume you, sucking you in as he brings you to full orgasm. Your limbs slowly manage to steady their movements, until the euphoria inside you ends with a soft moan.

Tony subtly withdraws his fingers from inside you as he leaves his wet kisses around your thighs, searching for your gaze amidst the mess of sheets that existed around you at that moment. He finds himself climbing up your body, kissing every part of it gently until he reaches your face where he catches your lower lip between his teeth.

"I told you, I'll take care of everything," he added with a half-smile. "And I think I've managed to exceed expectations."

"It's possible," you kissed him again finding your breathing much calmer. "That means it's my turn now."

With more skill than he did, you were able to get his body underneath yours in an instant, causing his tongue to come out and lick his upper lip. It was obvious that he was tremendously proud of the job he had just done, thanks to how well you had let him know with your facial and guttural expressions. But now it was your moment, discovering that your needs had not yet been fully satisfied and that you had a burning need inside you to feel him in you. Your kisses moved from his lips to his neck, taking on the taste of his perfume. You exerted just enough pressure with your teeth to profess from his throat his sweet gasps that were filling you with madness.

The path of your kisses was present on his chest, which rose and fell because of his accelerated breathing. He was soft, sweat was present on him from the previous exertion, but you hardly thought that fact mattered to you. Your tongue had reached his lower abdomen with great skill, the evidence of which was that Tony had chosen to lose eye contact with your actions and now looked a complete mess biting his knuckles. If it had been any other time you would have enjoyed the scene in front of your eyes causing him to beg, but he had been so good to you and you were so eager to kiss what was hidden by his briefs that you wasted little time in sliding the fabric down his thighs and releasing his erection.

You had been in that situation only once before in your life, so you opted for a marked subtlety in bringing your lips to his tip and licking it clean of his pre-cum. Luckily for you the noises coming from Tony were a map for your movements. you just start by testing the ground, tasting it, feeling it deep in your throat.

"Don't stop, whatever you do. I like that, a lot," his hand wrapped through the strands of your hair as his gaze focused on you.

Those words ignite your movements, you circle his shaft with one hand, accompanying the movements, you find that it intensifies his panting and generates a slight movement in his hips that causes him to thrust his erection deeper against your throat. You bring your free hand to his hips instilling a show of confidence and acceptance of his thrusts, which causes Tony to increase his speed.

"Shit, I'm so close, keep going -," his frantic tone could barely finish the sentence.

You felt the hand disappear from your head allowing you to withdraw right then and there, but his desperation was also shared by you, and just as you had orgasmed against his lips as you couldn't hold him inside you wanted to feel him as much as possible. Throbbing moments later inside your throat, accompanied by curses accompanied by your name coming from inside Tony. His hand returned to its proper place, dropping subtly to your head, enticing you to follow his movements.

Your lewd movements stopped over time as you noticed his limbs returning to their normal function and his breathing resumed its normal rhythm. You withdrew, offering her a soft kiss on the tip, and connected your gaze with hers, which strangely seemed a little embarrassed.

"I hope the walls are thick," you commented with an arched eyebrow.

He merely took in your smiling face and intertwined his fingers with yours to bring you closer to his height. He placed your bodies sideways, intertwining your legs, and with his fingertips he wiped the droplets of saliva from around your lips.

"So... would you say I've exceeded expectations too?" you asked, caressing his bare arms.

"I don't know," he said hesitantly. "I need more than one round to find out."

His half-smile lifted again, in no doubt that that had been the best sexual experience he'd had to date, because not all rumours are true.

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sixofpomegranates · 2 years

Text

☞ Vincent & Theo

➤Story Masterlist | ➤My Main Masterlist | 18+

CW: Mentions of mental illness, toxic family, financial worries, academic pressure,

**Ellie's POV**

I curse loudly as I hit my big toe on the leg of my bed, trying to reach my ringing phone before the caller hangs up and I have to call back explaining that I couldn't take the call because I tried making myself a marshmallow fluff toast and accidentally set the toaster on fire.

"Yes. Hi. What?" I blabber breathlessly as I pick up.

On the other side of the call, I hear somebody sniffling for a second, then my cousin's weak voice answers, "H-Hi. I- Are you busy right now?"

It is clear to me that Dove has cried. By now, I can hear it in her voice within seconds. Also, I taught her the year we lived together that she could call me whenever she isn't feeling well... Which lately happens more often.

"Nope. What's up?" I ask her, knowing that if I even breathe the wrong way she'll think I resent her for calling me when she needs me.

She coughs a little, probably choking on some of her tears. "I- No. It's- It's dumb."

Not again.

I already bet to myself that my aunt did something to her again. It is always the same. Dove tries being her introverted self, reading her books, painting her pictures, and aunt Aliyah comes and finds a way to crush her spirit like a little bug.

She doesn't like Dove happy. She never has.

"Nothing's dumb. Have you been crying?" I let out a sigh. "What happened this time? Aliyah yelling at you for being blonder than her again?"

Last Tuesday my aunt tried convincing Dove to dye her hair darker, being annoyed by the fact that my cousin has almost white hair while she has to fry hers with bleach every other week.

It's ridiculous and I don't understand what my aunt's problem is.

By now, mom has been fighting with my dad's sister so often that they barely speak to each other anymore. Would be fine by me but that also means that mom and I don't get to see Dove as often anymore.

"I- She threw it away," Dove mumbles, starting to sob again. I begin frowning and sit down on my bed. "Threw away what?" I ask.

"E-Everything," she exclaims. "My paintings, my sketches, the paint- I- I came home from school an hour ago, and everything's gone."

Fuck. Me.

"Why the fuck did she do that?" I ask, hardly managing to control my anger.

Dove is special. At least that's how mom calls it. I always say it as it is, Dove has the mental stability of ice cream in the sun.

Honestly, with that kind of family and all the shit that happened to her, I would definitely be an anxious mess as well. That's why I don't like my aunt, that's why my mom doesn't like my aunt. Aunt Aliyah loves to have Dove like this. A crying, helpless girl she can put down and blame for everything.

The car doesn't start? It's Dove's fault. Aliyah gets a new wrinkle? It's Dove's fault. The weather isn't sunny enough? You guessed it, it's Dove's fault.

The last time I was in DC with mom, we took Dove out for dinner and my food wasn't good. Dove proceeded by completely losing her appetite and apologizing every two minutes because of it. Like she had cooked it and taken care of it tasting horrible. Even after I got a new plate, she still apologized.

This is the kind of doormat behavior my aunt enjoys.

"She says I need to- I need to stop living in a dream world," is the explanation I get.

Dove has little to no hobbies. She likes her books and draws a lot. She isn't really social, her anxiety only making things worse, and studies an insane amount. Taking away the things she is so attached to is like hitting her in the face. Not to speak of how talented she is.

Painting is the only thing her mom never forced her to do or perfect but she got into it when living in Germany with our grandparents.

Mad talent. Seriously.

The last week she has started a new piece with her acrylics. Big canvas, bright colors, and a sketched-out plan of what she wants to do. Half of her notes are basically Latin for me and I don't get them but the end results are always amazing.

"I'm so sorry, Dove," I whisper as her crying becomes more obvious.

What the hell am I supposed to say? I can't even tell my mom because she will throw fists with my aunt and then Dove won't be allowed to talk to us... once again.

Clearing her throat, she quickly says, "Sorry I called you. It's stupid. I'm acting like a baby."

"No, you don't. That was a shitty thing of your mom to do. You like your stuff and she's so cracked that you can already see the breaks on the side of her neck."

I can hear her wheeze at my words and blow her nose. "Did you talk to aunt Cilia because of college?"

"No. Why? Was there something?" I ask, playing oblivious. Dove giggles. "You know what I mean."

"We send my application in yesterday," I tell her, hearing her squeal excitedly. "So she was okay with you coming to DC?" She asks me loudly, and I agree. "Yeah. You and I will go to college together!"

I smile because of it. Dove and I have already planned on living as roommates one way or another and living in DC is definitely the way to go since I'd never get her to leave from the grasp of her mom.

My cousin is naturally smart, she literally has to be since her mom would lose her mind if her daughter isn't perfect. She could go to college everywhere, and yet she decided to pick a college I should manage to get in as well.

There's also the fact that Dove is paperwhite. She could literally use white-out as foundation and the second she is in the sun for more than an hour... She turns red like a lobster, sometimes even with sunscreen. DC weather is definitely healthier for her than our weather in Arizona.

"I'm so excited!" She admits before becoming a little quieter, almost embarrassed. "I got some acceptance letters." I raise an eyebrow. "Already?" "Mom made me apply early." Grinning sarcastically, I say, "Of course she did."

For somebody who never managed to pull something other than getting pregnant as a teen and then marrying a rich racist, she surely is ambitious and living vicariously through Dove's academic achievements.

"Where did you get in? Spill the beans." "It doesn't matter. We'll go to Georgetown anyway."

"I still want to know," I insist, making her sigh. "Harvard-" I interrupt her, exclaiming, "Holy fuck. Really?"

A laugh escapes her. "I'm not done yet. I also got into Yale." "Are you kidding?" There is some silence and then she adds quickly, "And Columbia, Cornell, and Brown."

"Bullshit," I yell, glad that mom isn't at home since she throws her shoes after me when I curse too much. "D-Dove, that's amazing."

"Yeah..." She mumbles.

For a second I think about telling her that I worry about not getting into Georgetown. I am definitely not the smartest, school is unnecessarily hard for me, and I am actually not even sure if I can afford it if I don't get a scholarship.

At least Dove's mom and stepfather agreed to pay for everything. My mom would too but with which money? It's not like we're living luxuriously in the giant palace only a senator can afford.

But I don't. I have to be the strong one for Dove.

"You don't sound happy," I note.

I love Dove, she is my best friend and sister but I can't help my envy. She got into five Ivy League Universities. She didn't even have to try getting into Georgetown, those things come easy to her and her high IQ, and yet she doesn't even sound happy about her achievements.

"I just looked through the mail. Add the University of Pennsylvania, Princeton, and Dartmouth. Big, huge envelopes..." She says, sounding like she's feeling sick.

Eight Universities. Eight Ivy League Universities.

Finally the jealousy bubbles over. "Sorry but I don't get why you're not happy about it. Do you know how glad I'd be to be in your position? Those colleges cost a fortune and are so fucking hard to get in, and you just- You're so ungrateful for the opportunities you have."

As I hear her suck in some air, I feel like kicking myself. Nice, I just let my own frustration out on her.

"I- I'm sorry, Dove," I say quickly. "I didn't mean it like that. I- I was a jealous bitch."

"No you weren't," she tells me, justifying my shitty behavior. "Yes, I was," I answer. "I'm sorry. Really."

"I know I should be glad about those acceptance letters but..." Dove takes a deep breath. "I'm unhappy," she sobs. "I- I don't know what's wrong with me but I'm so unhappy. It- It's like I am drowning – I think. I don't know what drowning feels like but there is no air and no matter what I do, I just feel so, so unhappy."

Mom often says that Dove is in the spectrum for depression and social anxiety disorder, and we both know about a lot of things, bad things. There is definitely more going on in her head than she would ever let us see.

When she begins talking like that, finally showing some of her struggles, I always become worried and nervous... It's always uncertain to see how close she is standing to the edge. She doesn't have a lot to hold on to.

This sensibility course mom let me take traumatized me badly and I would lie if I didn't say I'm scared of Dove, one day, giving up if things don't change for her.

Sadly enough, my father's family, the side of my family that connects me to Dove, don't believe in mental illness and therapy. Which is bad since they ALL desperately need it. All of them have issues.

Dove's mother is a narcissistic monster, my dad is an alcoholic, my grandmother... I don't know a lot since she doesn't acknowledge me or my mom because mom's Mexican. But let's be honest, no woman without some serious issues to the head is that racist and self-righteous.

"Hey, you know what?" I say as chipper as possible, combing with my fingers through my curls. "Once we're at college and we have a room, I'll give you your own painting space. And we'll eat a lot of junk food and stay up late watching your favorite movies on repeat."

I hear her humming happily. "That sounds great. I really hope it will be like that."

"Oh, It will," I assure her. "And next thing you'll know, you're going to be Master of Fucking Arts." "Master of Fine Arts." Dove corrects me chuckling.

I continue, ignoring her correction. "And then you'll move to Paris and become a struggling artist like your buddy Van Gogh."

Since we were twelfth it is always Vincent Van Gogh. I sadly lack the understanding of her love for him and I don't know any other artist she likes. But there is always the hope that she meets a cute guy in her college classes that will get it and have the time and crayons to explain it to me.

Maybe she would then finally drop the fat idiot she is dating – aka running after like a little puppy – since high school. The weirdest trauma rebound I have ever seen, and frankly, the greatest and hardest to get away pain in the butt.

"I'm already struggling," she deadpans. "It must be good to die in the knowledge that one has done some truthful work...and to know that, as a result, one will live on in the memory of at least a few and leave a good example for those who come after."

Yeah. I didn't understand that, so she probably quoted something. Fuck, geniuses are really tough to understand. They have an entire mind palace and my little studio apartment of a brain is always struggling to keep up with them.

"You just quoted him, right?" She hums approvingly. "I'm still sorry that aunt Aliyah threw your stuff out."

She makes an unbothered sound of which I know that it's fake."It is what it is. Maybe she's nicer after seeing my acceptance letters."

"Don't let her talk you into going to Yale though," I warn her jokingly, knowing that my aunt always has had her eye on that college specifically. "Never. You know I'd go to Harvard. They have a great art program."

Now I don't feel jealous, I feel guilty. Dove sacrifices chances like going to a college she truly likes, taking classes and opportunities, so we can live together as we planned as children.

She is a great friend but a dummy. We're soon to be adults. Dove will be eighteen soon and graduation is coming faster than I'd like to.

"You can go there if you want," I tell her, trying to make it sound like it wouldn't bother me. "I'm not mad if you decide on it."

"We already decided for Georgetown though," she answeres innocently.

But how much of it was We and how much was I?

I know I would never be able to get into anything better than Georgetown, so this is the college that was decided on. I'm Dove's only friend, she is the introvert to my extrovert, it's always been clear to me that she will follow me wherever I go, follow the plans I make for us.

"So? Plans can change, and if that art program is-" I swallow some of my shame and continue honestly, "I just don't want you to miss out."

Dove lets out a giggle, playing down the fact that I worry about her turning down shots so we can be roommates. "I'm not missing out on anything if we're together. You're the Theo to my Vincent."

What is it with the Van Gogh references? Whenever I ask, I accidentally get her to ramble for hours but never get it really explained.

Maybe it is the fact that he was mentally ill and still tried to do what made him happy? Dove tries to be like that a lot, this being the connection would only be logical...

"I don't get that one," I admit, making her let out another one of her contagious giggles. "But I do. You're my best friend, Ellie, my favorite person."

I'm jealous of her and still would never want to be in her shoes. She is pretty, sweet, and kind. She is troubled, broken, and in denial. She is my best friend and yet I always feel like a loser next to her. Like nature has put us up against each other but given my younger cousin a head start.

She's my sister, although not biological, and although everything is messy at times.

"You're so dramatic. I love you," I tell her. She and my mom are the only people that ever get to hear that from me. It's something only for my family to hear. Boyfriends be damned until one proves himself worthy.

"It's not dramatic, you're just really the only one who gets me," Dove insists. "Today I felt so lonely, and sad, and tired, but I called you and now I don't feel like dying anymore."

"Because it'll get better once we're in college," I assure her, making her agree hopefully. "I hope so."

I chuckle. Once we're at college there won't be so much pressure on her to be perfect anymore, and the pressure I put on myself to keep up with her will ease up as well. I will get my gymnastics scholarship, she will make her art, we will live our lives and find a bright future waiting for us, molded by ourselves.

I just know it.

"One hundred percent. Pinky promise."

Give me feedback [also anonymous!]

#thedoveandtheagent #spencer reid fanfic

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spenciegoob · 3 years

Text

The Fifteenth

A/N: I’m so sorry in advance.

Pairing: Spencer!POV x Fem!Reader

Category: Angst/Fluff

Content Warning: death of a major character, talk of drug abuse, mentions of blood/cases (usual criminal minds terminology), mentions of panic attack/depression

Masterlist

Word Count: 2,163

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As I sat down with the woman that made me feel whole, I felt the familiar serenity of her presence fill my senses even as the rain around us poured down in sheets. The pressure felt like sharp, cold glass sinking into my skin, but with her in front of me, I couldn’t find myself to care because her warmth held me like it was always meant to do.

“Hi, sweet girl. Do you remember the day you told me I was your world for the first time? I think about it everyday. I wish I could go back and just-”

She laid her head on my bare chest, her hair spreading out to tickle my sides, and her arms tucked securely around my back. Usually, a position so intimate would cause me a great deal of discomfort, but with her it felt natural; peaceful; perfect.

“Have I ever told you how much I love you?” She asked out of the blue. Even as a whisper, the question startled me. Before, in the moments of serene quiet, her breathing evened out, and I thought she was fast asleep. I was about to allow myself the relief of saying everything I couldn’t find the perfect words for when she was awake, looking at me with those loving eyes I fell in love with.

“I love you, too, Y/n.” But that answer did not satisfy her. She pulled her head from it’s previous position to look at me directly, and while I love to look at those eyes, the tears that welled there were gut twisting: soul crushing; heart wrenching.

“I mean it, Spence. You are my whole world.” A tear escaped when the words left her mouth, the ones that caused my own eyes to water, threatening to join hers.

I brushed my thumb across her cheek, catching the fallen drop before it finalized on my chest.

“And you are mine, sweet girl.”

“But what I meant to say was you’re not mine. Y/N, you are bigger than my world. You are the sun, the one that I rotate, the light that I need to survive, the power source that keeps me habitable.”

I had to clear my throat before continuing.

“The first day I met you, you unknowingly saved my life, and to this day, I regret not telling you until now. It was the day I quit. I didn’t understand it then, how my mind changed so suddenly, but now I do. It was that smile, it was always that smile-”

I need a fix. Just one. It was one of the worst cases I’ve ever worked. I deserved a fix. I would say it was out of my control once I set that text message, but it was long before that. The second the jet landed my mind had been made, and once that happens, not even me could stop it.

So I walked out of my apartment into the night that held too many unknowns, pulling myself further into my jacket and keeping my head down. I know that no one knew me to judge, but if I were to look at the very few strangers as they walked past me to live their own equally as destructive lives, I would’ve felt daggers piercing my skin instead of a needle that night.

But then I turned a corner, and from my position with locked eyes on the concrete, I could see a head come into my vision, hit my chest, and fall to the ground.

“Oh my g- I’m so sorry I wasn’t loo-” I had started to explain myself before a giggle interrupted my plan. I allowed my eyes to forget the laser vision on the sidewalk, and meet the eyes of the source.

My god was she beautiful. Her eyes so full, looking up at me from the hard ground with something that could only be described as pure, unadulterated joy.

“It’s quite alright, I wanted to be on the ground tonight, anyway.” I titled my head, peculiar with the beautiful strange woman on the ground, but when she let out another giggle at my confusion, I couldn’t help but let out a breathy chuckle.

And then she held her hand up, silently asking for help from the position I so rudely shoved her into. While I would usually politely decline hand-to-hand contact, it didn’t feel right to refuse to help her stand after I all but tackled her.

So I took her hand, and the warmth generating from her in the cool night was like a breath of fresh air after drowning for so long.

When she regained her balance in front of me, she asked the question I least expected her to.

“I was just on my way to get coffee. Would you like to join me?”

“Wha.. I um- I’m a stranger on the street that just pushed you to the ground, and you’re asking if I want to get coffee?” When she nodded, I asked her another question, hoping to be able to teach her a lesson in stranger danger she so obviously lacked.

“How do you know I’m not a murderer?”

“With kind eyes like yours? I find that highly unlikely.”

“How could I say no to you? Y/N, you were my guardian angel that night. I didn’t look back when you linked your arm with mine, and led me to your favorite coffee shop. I still go there, you know? I don’t even have to order anymore, they just silently start making my coffee when I make my presence known-”

“Can I have an iced french vanilla with 3 pumps of liquid sugar?” She asked the barista Sam who had already started punching in her order before Y/N started speaking.

“What the hell did you just order?” I couldn’t stop the question from leaving my lips. Whatever concoction the barista was making was quite possibly the weirdest coffee order I’ve ever heard.

“Hey, Sam, can you make it two?” She ordered another instead of answering my question. “Trust me, stranger on the street. It’ll change your life.”

“Oh, um, my name’s Spencer by the way.”

“Well, stranger on the street named Spencer, I’m Y/N, and it looks like our coffee’s ready,” she said to me with the most beautiful smile. That smile can cause grown men to drop to their knees. Quite frankly, I almost did. She was the most peculiar and intriguing woman I had ever met.

She grabbed the two cold drinks and sat on one of the many different couches around the tiny shop. I just watched, my eyes following her lead without my control as she put me in a trance her presence induced.

“You coming?”

“Oh, uh, yeah sorry.” She only giggled as I quickly shuffled my way to her. We were the only people in the cafe, not surprisingly so as it was 10:42 pm on January 15th, a Tuesday night.

“You, Spencer, are infatuating.”

“Me? Why me?”

“It has to be something in those eyes.” We stared deeply at each other for what felt like an eternity, even if it was merely a second too long. She was the one to pull away as if she was done studying whatever she found.

With a deep inhale, she shook her head and handed me my beverage.

“Allow me to change your life?” She asked like I wouldn’t let her if she continued to beam at me the way she did.

But instead of freaking her out and saying that, I took the coffee from her hand, and hesitantly took a sip.

It was so sickeningly sweet, like drinking melted candy with the amount of sugar to send someone into sugar shock. It was perfect.

She was perfect.

“When I first started showing up to work with a large iced coffee that was basically cream with a dash of coffee bean, I got weird looks. Derek even made a couple comments, but I didn’t care. It was a part of you you decided to share with a stranger that night. Eventually I told them the story, and now when I walk into the bullpen with the same coffee like clockwork, they give me solemn looks, but no comments.”

“The day you met them was one of the best days of my life, even if it was by accident-”

“Reid and Morgan, I want you two to go down to the dump site. The woman who found the body is there, I want you to interview her.” Hotch’s voice boomed. It was a local case, and while no case is the end goal, the locality was enough.

I got to go home to lay in her arms.

Derek and I drove to the site, bouncing off theories to each other to fill the time. When we got there, news vans had already taken up most of the space, and a sea of reported crowded behind the barricade.

We shuffled our way through, avoiding eye contact and the “dire” questions from the press. When we made it to the front and flashed our badges, one of the officers led us to the body.

A prostitute in an alley. Easy profile, not so easy scene. There was major overkill, the blood from the body deep in the hallway trailed all the way to the sidewalk. It was only 7 am, my theory being a morning jogger found the trail and followed it to the horror show.

“Do we know where the person who found the body is?” I asked the officer who was next to me.

“We tried to ask her questions, but she got too worked up and couldn’t breathe. She’s on the back of the ambulance now I believe.” A panic attack.

It wasn’t uncommon for an unready participate in a criminal investigation to have a panic attack. Not everybody was made to see such things.

Derek and I made our way over to the ambulance when we started to hear a very heated argument.

“I AM FINE! There’s no reason for thi-”

“Y/N?” There she was, sitting in the ambulance, fighting with the EMT who was just trying to do his job. I don’t know who I felt bad for more in this situation. She knew how to win an argument, trust me.

“Oh Spence, thank god.” She quickly got up to crash her body into mine. I don’t think there was a speed that would be sufficient when it came to how quickly I squeezed her back. “It was so scary.”

Her body started to shake with tears she was probably holding in. She didn’t like to cry in front of me for the longest time, let alone hundreds of cops, reporters and pedestrians.

“I know, sweet girl. I’m sorry you had to see that. I’m so sorry.” I ran my fingers through her hair. It aways calmed her down.

And it seemed to partially work, because she pulled her head from my chest to look up at me with wet cheeks and terrified eyes.

“I just... I was runni... She’s d-”

“It’s okay. You’re okay. It’s over now, okay?” Slowly she nodded, her eyes trailing down to her feet. That was until Derek spoke up. In the midst of my concern, I had completely forgotten he was there.

“Uh... what?”

“Oh Derek, this is Y/N. My uh, my girlfriend. Y/N this is Derek.” She looked up to find my baffled coworker looking between me and her and smiled. Hey, his stupidity got her to smile!

“So you’re the lady’s man he tells me about?” Shit.

“Hey now wait a minu-”

“Maybe we should go back to Quantico. You’ll be safe, and we can ask you questions when you’re ready, yeah?” I had to deflect quick, but Derek would rip me a new one for this.

We all piled into the SUV. I got in the back knowing that she gets car sick back there ever since she was a little girl.

“So, you and Spencer, huh?” Maybe that was a mistake.

“They loved you so much. I loved you so much. I still love you so much. I miss you every day of my life, but it doesn’t hurt to think about you anymore. Life gave us all the time it could spare, and I am so grateful I literally ran into you that Tuesday night 8 years ago. Sometimes I hate my mind, my eidetic memory is a curse on it’s own, but when it comes to you? The memories we shared I will never forget are the ones that keep me fighting. You still keep me going, sweet girl. You always will.”

With that, I got up and placed the sunflowers on top of her headstone, brushing off the dirt and leaves that accumulated during the fall season.

The rain stopped pouring then, and the sun shone down on me. On us.

My sun.

____

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tsukikento · 3 years

Text

Empathetic Chapter 16 (Please Read A/N for Update)

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

Summary: After your mom, the number 1 hero in America, gets offered a teaching position at U.A., you two pack up your things and head to Musutafu, Japan to start a new life. Pressure for you in America was at an all-time high, and now you’re in Japan, where almost no one knows you, or your family’s past.

This tale starts on your first day of class where your new teacher decides the best way for you to fit in is to fight against the strongest person in your class: Bakugou Katsuki.

Warnings/Genre: This piece will feature some angst and reference to an abusive parent, if you are ever worried about other tw’s feel free to send me an ask and I will let you know. There will also be fluff, slight angst, pining, and slowburn.

A/N: Two chapters in one month?? Your super nice and amazing comments always want to make me write so much more! I’m glad I had some extra time this week to get things out. PLEASE READ NOTE BELOW:

With the recent chapters of the manga in mind, I want to make note that this story is non-canon. I want to keep this story cohesive and not spoil anything that is not in the anime. However, there may be discrepancies or differences because I started writing during the overhaul arc. I understand a lot of people don't read the manga and some things have happened that could impact what I plan to do with this story. So, please keep in mind that this is not canon, but is set in the second year. My main goals are clarity within this story and not spoiling anything. Thank you!

(series masterlist)

The next few weeks passed in a blur because your schedule was now much more packed with various activities. You had cooking on Monday, training with Aizawa-sensei and Shinsou every Tuesday and Friday, and training with Bakugou every Wednesday and Sunday.

On top of that, physical training had increased throughout the class because of the approaching sports festival and many people were asking to train with you. So far, you had trained with the girls a couple of times as well as in other small study groups when the spaces were rented out. Everyone was rather nice about inviting when they could, although you didn’t always say yes.

As of now, it was the Wednesday before the Sports Festival. Class ended with a big endurance workout and then some stretches. Each student was breathing heavily and slowly making their way back to the lockers to change. Knowing you would be training with Bakugou in the next hour, you didn’t want to shower, but also didn’t want to switch back into your school uniform because it would become dirty.

However, you immediately changed your mind as you saw how sweaty you were in the mirror. Strands of hair were stuck to your face from sweat and your face was clearly flushed.

“Did I look this bad all of class?” You frantically asked Momo and Jirou who were ruffling through their own lockers.

Jirou let out a few snickers at your reaction while Momo shook her head and smiled sweetly.

“You don’t look bad at all,” Momo explained while she applied deodorant.

“You’re too nice,” You replied, waving hero off sheepishly before looking to Jirou, “Tell me the truth, Jirou-san.”

“You don’t look too bad,” She responded, “All of us look like a mess. I don’t think anyone would really notice if that’s what you’re worried about.”

You hummed a response, not quite satisfied with her response, but also not about to beg her to call you either gorgeous or hideous. You turned back to your locker, deciding last minute to take a shower. You weren’t going to wash your hair, but you would borrow the hairbrush you knew Ashido has in order to fix your hair.

Once finally clean, with hair neatly brushed and tied back from your face, you leisurely walked back with Ashido and Hagakure to grab your school bags.

“So, now that I am officially in a relationship,” Ashido began, “I figured it was time I played matchmaker for you two hopeless romantics,” The kindred girl skipped ahead of you and Hagakure with a wide smile.

You chuckled low in your throat. “I don’t think that really describes us well,” You retorted, trailing behind slightly.

Ashido simply waved you off and moved around to throw her arm around Hagakure. “What about you, Toru-chan? Do you want me, who is in a steady relationship, to help you and Ojiro?”

“Um,” The invisible girl tentatively started. She was clearly unsure how Ashido would be able to help. “I’m okay with my relationship with Ojiro right now…”

“Really?” Ashido inquired. “You’re okay with just being his friend?” Your small group rounded the corner, approaching the classroom.

“Well,” You were sure Hagakure would be blushing if she wasn’t invisible. “I don’t want to push him into anything because he is shy and likes to go slow. I think it is best if it happens naturally.”

Ashido visibly harrumphed before looking back at you. “Y/L/N-chan!” She explained, moving from Hagakure to you. “Let me be your wing-woman!”

You slid open the classroom door, head turned to reply to Ashido. “I’m pretty sure Bakugou would blow you up before you even had a chance to be my wing woman.”

“Meanie,” The pink-haired girl pouted before pushing past you to go to her desk and grab her bag.

“I just don’t know if Bakugou would want anyone to meddle in the too-small relationship we have now,” You explained, walking over to your own desk. Everyone else’s desks were empty, meaning you were the last three people left.

“Yeah, but you are barely spending any time with him. Not only do I know Bakugou well, but I can help you because I’m dating Kirishima,” Mina countered. “I could talk you up, or lowkey make us go on a double date. It would work perfectly.”

You all walked out of the classroom, closing the door after Ashido and Hagakure both exited, and walking toward the lockers at the entrance to change shoes.

“I feel like I spend plenty of time with him,” You reasoned, adjusting your backpack up higher. You were trying to explain yourself without being too descriptive. You saw him every day at school, ate lunch with him, spent time with him three days out of the week, and saw him in the halls occasionally.

“You mean lunches with all of us and cooking dinner once a week with him and Sero?” Ashido countered. “That’s maybe more time than half the class, but it isn’t very much for a romantic relationship.”

You rolled your eyes and laughed loudly. Personally, you weren’t sure if Bakugou would really spend much time with his partner. He wasn’t a very outgoing person to begin with and you imagined that he would want someone who respected his privacy.

After a short debate, you decided it was best to tell your friends about the additional time you had spent with Bakugou. The time you spent with him was more heavily focused on training than anything else, meaning this information wouldn’t change too much about what your relationship with him meant. “You can’t say anything, okay?” You began your confession. You felt safe telling them but wanted to make sure it stayed in your small circle of friends.

Both girls turned towards you. Ashido’s eyes were wide with curiosity.

“Bakugou and I have been training together every Wednesday and Sunday,” You simply said.

“Huh?” Hagakure spoke up, “Like, you guys happen to be at the gym at the same time?”

“No,” You clarified, “Like, we meet up every Wednesday and Sunday for hours to train together.”

“What?” The pink-haired girl screeched. She turned and moved to be in front of you in order to stop you in your tracks. “Really?”

“Why would I lie?” You replied, shrugging easily.

“I don’t know,” She shot back with a cheeky smile. She looked down and nervously bit on her lip. “I just can’t believe it.” Before you could say anything else, she looked up at you. “I don’t think you even need my help, Y/L/N-chan!”

“Thanks,” You laughed out.

The three of you began walking again before separating to go to each of your respective lockers. You grabbed a couple of textbooks, put a few things from your bag away and into the locker, as well as switched your shoes. You met back up with Hagakure and Ashido at the door and exited together.

The silence was quickly ended by Ashido. “I can’t believe you are training with him.”

“Is it really that unheard of?” You inquired.

“I mean, he doesn’t really train with anyone. The fact that he is training with you is a good sign,” Ashido explained. “But that is also giving you an insane opportunity to spend time with him that almost no one else gets.”

“Wow,” Hagakure finally added. She turned to face you. “You really are lucky huh?”

You felt your cheeks flush. “Oh, well, um,” You stuttered, “I don’t think I’m that lucky. It’s probably just a coincidence.”

Ashido scoffed, “Yeah, we’ll see.”

You simply rolled your eyes at the girls and followed Ashido as she went on to talk about Kirishima while leading you all back to the dorms.

As subtly as possible, you pulled out your phone to check your notifications. Bakugou would often text you after class or in the morning to let you know where he wanted to meet that day. Frequently, it would be in the cityscape, because it was best for his quirk.

In reflection, you were often mostly working for his benefit. Although you definitely improved through practice, small details like the location of the training, or discussion on what to improve often revolved around the blond boy.

You bit your lip, debating if it was bad.

On one hand, you were happy to spend time with him, help him, and still improve yourself.

On the other, is it a bad sign that he is unwilling to help improve your skills?

Well, it’s not like he is unwilling. I’ve never asked, you reasoned. And maybe he doesn’t know how to help me like I know how to help him because I grew up in a hero family.

You sighed at the predicament just as your phone vibrated with Bakugou’s decision on where to meet.

Let’s meet right outside the dorm room. No hero costume necessary.

That’s new. Sure, the first time you met outside the dorms so he could show you where the cityscape was, but he hadn’t done that since.

You shoved your phone back into your pocket as Ashido opened the door to the dorm house. You each quickly went your separate ways. Hagakure rushed to the bathroom, Ashido went to grab a snack, and you went upstairs to change and get ready.

You did your best to tidy up quickly. You didn’t need your hero costume, but you still might be doing some form of combat or exercise so you needed to dress in workout clothes. You dressed in comfortable, dark leggings and a sports bra to match. On top, you wore a sweat-resistant shirt and styled your hair to keep it out of your face.

You bit your lip as you looked in the mirror and thought over what you could do to make your appearance any better. This probably isn’t even something Bakugou thinks about, you thought as your forced yourself to look away and grab your phone.

You had just enough time to pack a small bag with your belongings and go downstairs to fill up your water bottle. When done, you popped your head outside the front door to see if Bakugou was waiting. With five minutes to spare, you were here before the short-tempered boy. And so, you sat down at the large couches by the door and waited for Bakugou to come down while scrolling through your phone.

“I thought I told you to wait outside,” You heard a gruff voice say. You looked up from your phone to see Bakugou walking towards the kitchen to fill his own water.

“I didn’t know how long you would take,” You reasoned and smiled at the blond before getting up to meet him in the kitchen. In reality, you were waiting no more than two minutes before he came down.

“You know I would never be late,” He retorted while screwing the cap onto his bottle.

You shrugged in response, not bothering to reply verbally. The conversation died down as you followed behind Bakugou and out of the house. “So, where are we going?” You asked as you closed the door behind the both of you.

“The library,” Bakugou explained. “I want to do some theorizing stuff, maybe some combat after.”

You hummed and followed behind him on the short trek to the library. “Is there anything specific on your mind?” You inquired, considering this isn’t something Bakugou had wanted to do before.

“The sports festival is this weekend and I want to win. I was thinking we could watch old highlights and strategize what the possible challenges could be and how to approach them,” Bakugou described.

“And we can’t just do this in the dorms?” You shot back.

“Shuddup,” He responded. “It’s always easier to study in a computer lab rather than our rooms.”

“I guess,” You simply replied, not really caring about where you were when you would be analyzing old clips from sports festivals in the past.

“I guess,” Bakugou mimicked back, a habit he formed quickly when you began to talk more. Anytime your accent sounded a little off, just slightly weird, the blond would repeat it, emphasizing the mistake, and snickering at it.

“Oh shut up, you idiot,” You snapped back, not too harshly slapping his name on his arm.

“What?” He loudly reasoned while still laughing. “I’m trying to help you speak better Japanese.”

“No, you aren’t,” You rolled your eyes at him shrugging, “You are just laughing at me.”

Bakugou feigned surprise, gasping and putting his hand onto his chest. “How dare you? I am in the top 10 of our grade academically, and your accent has only gotten better since I started doing this.”

“Yeah, well you suck ass at English,” You mumbled in response.

“I don’t need to have a perfect accent if I am speaking English in Japan,” He retorted before pulling open the door to the school. It led to the library and computer lab that was a few stories up.

“When you speak English here, you will most likely be doing hero work with tourists that unfortunately got caught in something,” You reasoned, “They won’t be able to understand you well if at all when you don’t study tonal English.”

Realistically, yes, they would be able to understand Bakugou. However, you were currently butt-hurt and unwilling to compliment him.

“Then I will leave the talking to you.” Bakugou pressed the elevator door button and waited until it dinged and the doors opened to walk in.

“And you expect me to just be there in the field with you?” You questioned, following behind him.

“What?” Are you going back to America?” He asked back. His voice had a different tone to it. He was no longer teasing you and instead of asking a genuine question.

You pushed away the want to analyze this difference in inflection, knowing it would make you look like an idiot for pausing to reply for so long. “Not anytime soon,” You finally replied, “But we can’t predict the future, and I have no clue where I will go after graduation.”

“Well, you should stay here,” Bakugou simply said.

You couldn’t help but shoot him a shocked and curious look. “Does the Bakugou Katsuki really want me to stay in Ja—”

“It’s not like that, you idiot!” He interrupted you. “Japan is just a lot better for heroism than America so you will learn more and be better if you stay here.”

He had a pout on his face that begged you to not tease him.

So, you didn’t.

However, you weren’t sure what to say so you simply followed behind Bakugou as he entered the library and beelined it to a table.

“And my name isn’t Ka-TSU-ki,” He finally spoke while placing his belongings onto the table.

You shot him a confused look, “What do you mean?” You placed your own things down to his right.

“Put more accent on ‘Ka’,” He explained easily. “You should rush through it to sound more like KA-tski.”

Bakugou shot you a look as if he was waiting for you to say his name. “What?” You curiously asked.

“Practice,” He motioned for you to speak.

“Uhhh, Ka-tski, KA-tski, Katsuki,” You awkwardly attempted. You felt the heat spread from the bottom of your neck to your cheeks and finally to the tops of your ears.

You weren’t a fool. You knew what using a first name meant in Japanese culture and also knew that no one except Midoriya referred to him by any other name besides Bakugou. For him to so casually have you repeat his first name over and over made your stomach flip.

“Good,” He spoke, voice deep and almost raspy. It made butterflies erupt in your stomach. His tone was… different and it made your head spin crazily. The blond sat down and pulled out his laptop.

“I didn’t bring my computer,” You awkwardly explained.

“That’s fine,” Bakugou immediately replied. “I can rent one out from the library if need be, but we can share earbuds and watch videos on my laptop.”

You gulped down the quickly forming lump in your throat and simply kept watching the blond unpack his bag.

From being able to say his first name without him yelling at you to his tone and his willingness to share, Bakugou was acting unusually. And you were clearly flustered by it. You were sure that if Ashido was here, she would practically be stabbing you with her elbow while she winked at you repeatedly.

Luckily, however, it was just the oblivious and preoccupied Bakugou who was currently opening a tab on his laptop and pulling up videos. You were free to push your chair back, gulp down too much water, and attempt to manage your breathing pattern without him noticing.

Or at least that’s what you hoped.

“Here.”

You looked up from the desk and saw Bakugou holding out an earbud to you. Before grabbing it, your eyes trailed down the wire that inevitably connected it to Bakugou’s own ear. Bakugou had moved the laptop to be evenly between you two on the desk, he was also leaning in slightly to give your more room with the earbud wire. Finally, he also had a notebook and pen to his left so he could write down notes.

You moved closer to the blond and put in the earbud. You tried your best not to move too close, but Bakugou easily moved closer once you stopped adjusting and his own shoulder was now brushing against yours.

Oh, great, you thought. You felt a tinge of nerves from Bakugou push into you. Because your shoulders were only brushing, sometimes not touching at all, you could really only see his surface-level emotions. More than anything, he was focused and determined.

Bakugou opened a document that already had a plethora of notes. “These are the past 11 years of sports festivals and what challenges were done each time,” He explained as you scanned your eyes over the expansive document. It was organized by year, then by class year, and finally, by challenge done.

You hummed to simply let Bakugou know you heard him as you searched for patterns.

“The most common one is a race,” Bakugou began, “But it is different every time.” He moved his cursor to open a video. “This is a compilation of the 17 races or marathons that were done.”

Without waiting, Bakugou began playing the video. They were short clips, the teacher hosting the sports festival explaining what each step of the race was as well as a few highlights. You took mental notes while Bakugou scribbled away in his notebook. You immediately noticed him angrily grumbling when last year’s highlights came up, it showed Midoriya expertly soaring into first place.

“These definitely favor flight abilities,” You mumbled as the video came to a close. The notation wasn’t so good for your quirk, but you knew Bakugou would have little trouble.

“Yeah,” Bakugou simply replied, well aware of the disadvantage you would have if it was a marathon-based challenge.

“How are you feeling about your maneuverability?” You asked Bakugou, knowing there was little you could do. Well, except hope that a marathon challenge wasn’t in this year’s sports festival.

“I’m fine,” Bakugou responded, before changing the subject, “Races are least common for second years though, so I’m not sure if we should expect it.” Bakugou leaned back in his chair, “I know that U.A. does some stuff to help prevent repetitiveness between the classes within a year, but also between the same class each year.”

“Damn,” You commented, “You really know your stuff.”

“Yeah, well it makes sense to analyze past stuff,” Bakugou explained, “I can train all I want, but analyzing last year definitely helped me too.”

“I wonder if anyone else is doing this,” You thought out loud.

Bakugou simply shrugged and turned back to his computer. “Usually, every second round is a group-based challenge, but they vary a lot.” You nodded in understanding, “The most common one in the past 11 years is a mini-disaster situation. They love doing this for second-years, but it costs a lot so it has only happened 9 times between all three grade levels.” Bakugou once again pulled up a video and began playing clips from the 9 previous disaster situations.

The first time it was ever done, the teachers played it off as a real situation. It made for great television and a realistic view of how heroes work in the field, but the audience was unaware of the decision and it terrified them. There were actors in place as villains and civilians, but U.A. ended up apologizing and doing it the next year with multiple variations and adjustments to be more family-friendly.

“They didn’t do this last year,” Bakugou elaborated, “So I think they will this year.” He moved back to a new document. It had each year’s disaster detailed on it. It listed hat was the problem, the main highlights, as well as who won and the quirks the team had.

“The grading of this challenge is based on the team’s ability to work well together, how they work against the villain, and how they help rescue the designated civilians.” Bakugou paused for a beat, “I know you haven’t done the hero provisional license, but it is similar to the task during that test, just on a smaller scale.”

You nodded in understanding while reading over the group’s quirks. “Do you know if the students got to pick their teams?” You asked.

“I couldn’t find anything on it, but for our team-based challenge last year, we were allowed to pick groups,” Bakugou replied.

“Who would you pick then?” You asked him, partially out of curiosity for his strategy and partially hoping he would say your name.

Bakugou hummed in thoughts, “Most teams in the past were five people, and I don’t know how great I would be with helping civilians.” Bakugou paused in thought, “I think you, Kirishima, and Ashido would be great with that.”

And there go the butterflies once again erupting in your stomach.

“You would also allow us to communicate across the field, Kirishima would be great for defense if the villains ever attacked the civilians, and Ashido has a great offensive attack and personality that would keep people calm.” He paused for a few moments, “I also think Sero would be great with saving civilians and then moving to help in the offensive.”

“Isn’t that the same team you had last year?” You questioned. You wanted to tease him for being so willing to compliment people, but you knew he would react badly. You made a mental note to tell Ashido later.

“Well, I added you!” Bakugou defended, voice rising in volume slightly.

The librarian shushed him and you snickered at his angry face. “Calm down,” You reassured, placing your hand onto his own.

It was a habit to touch people and help them, you weren’t even thinking about how it would change his feelings. However, you immediately felt the heat from his hand warm your cool skin without processing exactly what you were doing. Although your mind wanted you to snatch your hand back once you felt his warmth, you knew it would only make the situation weirder. Instead, you pushed away his anger and calmed him just slightly, trying not to push your own nerves onto him.

Bakugou looked at you with wide eyes before his face relaxed. Similar to before, you felt his nerves rush into your body. It honestly made you more nervous. Knowing that your focus on nerves would only worsen both of yours, you pulled your hand back, trying your best to seem casual. Thoughts rushed through your head as you tried to figure out why he became so nervous when you touched his hand with your own.

You weren’t an idiot.

You knew what type of nerves he had.

It wasn’t sickness-related and it definitely wasn’t an anxiety-induced nerve. It was the same type of nerves you felt when your stomach would flip at the rare sight of Bakugou smiling. It was the same flutter of your heart when you saw Bakugou dressed in his hero costume.

You could even see the small blush forming on the tips of his ears and cheeks, only helping to confirm your assumptions.

If you didn’t stop yourself, you would have already stumbled out an apology before grabbing your belongings and rushing out of the library. Except, if you did do that, it would be a dead giveaway that you understood his nerves.

Something you reminded yourself over and over was that if anything was going to happen with the blond, you would need to be patient. Over the past few weeks, as you two have grown closer, it was patience and understanding that made him more comfortable around you.

“Sorry,” You apologized after a moment, moving to grab your water and take a few sips.

Bakugou pulled back from you, “It’s okay.”

He knows.

He knows I know.

He knows that I know that he knows.

You closed your eyes tightly to push your anxious thoughts away.

How could he know? He’s just as nervous as I am if not more!

“Sometimes I forget my quirk will just go off, I didn’t mean to change your feelings,” You explained. Although helpful, sometimes it was best for people to feel out their emotions and learn to change them on their own.

“It’s okay,” Bakugou repeated, “It’s for the best anyways. I’d hate to be kicked out of the library…again.”

“Again?” You questioned, quirking your eyebrow at the blond.

Bakugou nodded, laughing at himself slightly. “Yeah, it was when I was tutoring Kaminari last year. That idiot can be so stupid sometimes, I couldn’t hold back my screams when he told me the 4 squared was 8.”

You chuckled at Bakugou’s story, covering your mouth slightly to muffle your laughs. “Oh my god,” You exclaimed in surprise.

“I know,” Bakugou confirmed. “I don’t think he would have passed last year if I wasn’t there to tutor him,” Bakugou smirked while watching you giggle at his joke. Once your laughter died down with a deep breath, Bakugou adjusted himself in his chair to face his laptop once again. “Anyways,” He began, “I think the team I mentioned earlier would be great. We would have well-balanced defense and offense.”

You nodded, “I’ll make sure to keep that in mind if we all make it to the second round.”

“Oh, you better,” Bakugou pointed his finger at you. “I don’t care what the first round is, your better be ready to be the second person at the finish line.”

“Second?” You asked, already knowing where this would go.

“Yeah, obviously I am first,” Bakugou said seriously.

You held back your laugh but smiled all the same. “I’m sure you will be first, Bakugou-san. Now, let’s get back to review so we can make that possible.”

Bakugou nodded and began another small speech about the other team challenges. You listened diligently, watched the videos intently, and provided notes and feedback when you had some to say.

You both started a consistent pattern, reviewing each section before talking about how it could be positive or negative for each person. You theorized different abilities and moves you each had that could assist in a challenge. For example, a less common first challenge was a multi-round skills test.

It was much more used in the past but featured small rounds within the challenge that would add up to give people overall grades. Previous rounds featured breathing tests or aim with weaponry of choice.

“And that’s it!” Bakugou sighed, pushing himself back to rest against his chair. At this point, you and Bakugou had been in the library for over three hours with only one break to get up, stretch, and use the restroom.

You quietly whooped and took out the earbud so you could also lean back into your chair. “My back hurts, but this was definitely worth it.”

Bakugou chuckled at your comment, twisting in his chair to crack his back. “Happy to help.”

“If you are so happy to help, are you going to share this with anyone else?” You asked, looking at him from the corner of your eye.

“No,” Bakugou began, “Probably not.” He grabbed his water. “But you grew up in a hero family so you could help strategize more than the other class members.”

“I guess, but you don’t know that.” You turned to face him as he sipped on his drink. “Not only are you making assumptions about my past, but you are making assumptions about the other students as well.”

Bakugou dropped his head and rolled it to the side to look into your eyes with his own, vibrant scarlet orbs. He had a slight smirk on his lips that made you not quite gasp, but a breath in quickly and suddenly. However, it only got worse when his tongue appeared, slowly swiping across his upper lip. You wondered if the action was intentional, or if he could really look this good unintentionally.

“How many times is it now that you’ve come after me for assuming things about you?” He asked, his eyes squinting slightly at you.

You looked away, knowing you couldn’t respond if you continued to watch him. You were tempted to tell him not to look at you that way but also knew that would make him even more conceited and only edge him on. “Often enough for it to bug me and for you to remember. I think that’s a sign you should have learned by now,” You shot back.

“Oof,” Bakugou replied, moving in his seat to be sitting up straighter, he turned to face you more head-on and lay his right arm across the chair. “Why don’t you just clarify your past for me then?”

You eyed Bakugou closely. “Do you not remember what happened the first time you asked that?”

“You mean when you stormed out like you had a temper worse than mine? Of course, I do,” Bakugou shot back. He paused for a moment and you watched him think over his next words carefully, “Aren’t I your closest friend here?” You could tell it was to more so tease you, but you also wondered, due to his pause, if he was hoping you would say yes.

You scoffed at his comment, “Shouldn’t that be Ashido or Hagakure?” There was a fine line between complimenting Bakugou, revealing your feelings, and just making him more conceited. You feared that if you played into his idea about you two being close, it would give him an upper hand in your relationship. You were not willing to let Bakugou tease you and make you blush like a fool.

Well, it's not like you had too much of a choice in the matter though.

“Oh, please!” Bakugou retorted, “You spend so much more time with me than you do with them.”

“I also spend a lot of time with Shinsou,” You replied.

It was almost like a tug of war. Bakugou wanted you to admit that you spent so much time with him that he was practically your default best friend while you were trying to prove that you weren’t reliant on him. It’s not that the amount of time you spent with him was bad, not at all. You just didn’t want to tell him the truth because it would make him too confident.

“Who?” Bakugou asked, looking at you with a confused expression.

“Are you serious?” You laughed, “Are you really that unbelievably bad with names?” When Bakugou didn’t bother to reply, you continued, “Purple hair? Mind control quirk?”

“Him?” Bakugou exclaimed once realization dawned on him, “How are you spending so much time with that guy?”

“I’m interning with him and Aizawa-sensei,” You explained. “I’m sure I’ve mentioned this before.”

Bakugou slumped over his chair and pouted, “I would have remembered that. Why are you even interning with him?”

“Well, if you must know Bakugou-san,” You began, “I don’t have my provisional license and need a way to train. Plus, our quirks work well together. Aizawa-sensei wants us to get our licenses as soon as possible because he wants to see how well we work together in the field.”

Bakugou grumbled something you couldn’t quite hear so you simply ignored it.

“Are you actually upset?” You asked him, noticing his telltale signs of jealousy, but not quite believing he could be the jealous type. Or if you were worth being jealous over.

“No!” He immediately shot back, earning him another shush from the professor. “I just didn’t know you were training with other people too.”

You didn’t believe this was jealousy over you training with other people but knew pushing the subject would make Bakugou irritated. Forcing someone to share their feelings and emotions was never ideal. You could push slightly to see if they would open up, but if the situation isn’t severe, and you receive push back, it is best to let it go for the time being.

You saw the pout on his lips and simply laughed at his cute and childish actions. “What’s gonna make you feel better, huh? Should I tell you about my family’s deep, dark past?”

Bakugou scoffed and turned his body away from yours slightly. “Don’t tease me.”

“What do you mean?” You asked. “You doubt that my family has a dark past? Doesn’t every hero family have one?”

Bakugou called your bluff, “Then go ahead, tell me yours.”

You paused, not sure what to do. “Okay, w-well,” You stumbled over your words slightly, “It’s not that I don’t have one. I just didn’t expect you to actually ask me to tell you.”

You felt nerves erupt in your stomach, wondering how Bakugou would react to you backing out.

Bakugou laughed lightly, moving in his chair to sit up straight and look at you. “I’m never going to force you to tell me anything, but I’ll be here whenever you are ready.”

Oof.

There goes your heart rate, skyrocketing at Bakugou’s words. You did not at all expect a reaction like this. You didn’t know him for long, and you were well aware that you were on a good side that very few saw, but that comment was out of character for him. Or maybe, rather than being out of character, it was a new side of Bakugou even fewer people saw. You wondered if Kirishima had ever seen this side, or if this kind and patient attitude was reserved for the people he was most fond over.

Could this comment really be the key indicator in demonstrating that Bakugou had feelings for you? The anxiety and doubt that was ever so prominent in your life washed over you like a wave trying to rationalize why Bakugou would say something like that without concluding the specialness it held.

While you panicked, Bakugou began packing up his bag, putting away his laptop and notebook. He could see the gears turning in your head, and he knew that his comment pushed past the walls each of you set up in your friendship.

But maybe he didn’t care. However, it’s not like you could tell with the earbuds in that prevented you from reading his mind.

“You ready to go?” He asked while you stared into space like an idiot. He leaned into your line of view to bring you out of it.

“Huh?” You blinked a few times before locking eyes with the blond. “Yeah,” Your hoarse voice croaked out. Your throat had gone drier than you expected. You grabbed your bag and water quickly, “Do you want to go train at all?”

Bakugou looked out the windows, watching the sun start to set. “It’s a bit late, and I’m sure dinner is ready by now.” He looked down at his phone, “I can’t believe it’s almost 7:00.”

“Really?” You inquired, leaning toward him to check the time on his phone. “Damn, I didn’t expect us to be here so long.” You moved back to give yourself room to stretch. “We’ve been sitting for so long, I feel like I should do yoga and go on a run just to make up for it.”

Bakugou smiled at you, much kinder than you would expect him to. You felt the butterflies once again flutter in your stomach as you turned away to hide your face. Your cheeks were hot, and your mind was rushing quickly with ideas of what today meant. You definitely needed to talk to Ashido.

“If you’re still up for it after dinner, I’d love to go with you to the gym,” Bakugou offered.

“Is the gym usually busy at night?” You asked, trying to brush past his proposition. The idea that Bakugou wanted to spend more time with you than he already did was driving you crazy.

“Hmm, good question.” Bakugou started. “There are a few different ones on campus so that some can be reserved for groups or training sessions with teachers, but I don’t think a lot of people go after dinner. If you’re worried about that, we can always go to the track and use the yoga room which is always quiet and chill.”

You shrugged your shoulders and smiled at the red-eyed boy, “Either sounds good! Now let’s get back so I can eat.” You pouted and rubbed your stomach.

Bakugou snorted at your behavior before leading the way and opening the door for you. The conversation between you two flowed easily, with it mainly revolving around the class and the sports festival.

When you arrived home, you were each greeted by your classmates. Bakugou didn’t bother to reply to their greetings and instead rushed upstairs to drop off his things. You, on the other hand, immediately went to Ashido’s side.

“Bathroom, now.”

You pulled her away from Kirishima’s side and led her into the bathroom before checking to make sure no one else was in there.

“You and Bakugou didn’t even hide that you came home together, literally in front of everyone,” Ashido said before you even had a chance to speak.

“I know!” You exclaimed, smiling widely at the idea. You looked from Ashido to the mirror and checked your appearance, luckily, you still looked just as good when you left. “We literally hung out in the library for over 3 hours, talking about the sports festival, other shit, and being way too close to each other.” You turned back to your friend.

Ashido shook you in excitement while she squealed. “Are you going to give me details or what?” She asked after finally letting you go.

“Yes, of course, okay.” You tried your best to collect your thoughts. “First off, we were watching videos on his laptop, so we were sharing his earbuds and sitting so close that our shoulders were touching.”

“Oh my god!”

“Not only that,” You continued, “But anytime our shoulders did brush, I could tell that, although he was focused on the videos, he was also nervous because of how close he was to me.”

“No fucking way!”

“I know!” You practically shouted. “And you know how I am interning with Shinsou,” She nodded, “He literally was jealous when I brought it up. I didn’t even have to touch him to know because he was pouting, getting defensive, and just clearly upset.”

From per excitement, Ashido practically jumped around the bathroom. “Y/L/N-chan! I think Bakugou likes you!” She spoke in a sing-song voice. The smile on her face was just as wide as yours and you felt your cheeks heat up again.

“You think?” You asked.

She nodded fervently in response.

“Well, guess what?” You began, “I brought up doing yoga and running after dinner and he literally asked to join me.”

“You are literally going on a date,” Ashido immediately insisted.

“No, I’m not!” You sheepishly replied, scratching at your face and looking away. “That’s a little much.”

“Sure,” Ashido mocked you. “And sky totally isn’t blue.”

You rolled your eyes at the girl and waved her off. “I just want to take things slow,” You explained.

Ashido leaned in closer to you, “And that is why you are a great match for him.” She smiled widely, “I totally bet you guys will be together before the end of the year.”

You laughed, “Don’t make a bet on my relationship.”

“Okay, okay,” Ashido held her hands up in defeat. “But just know I’m in your corner.”

You smiled at your friend fondly before changing the subject. “Anyways, I’m hungry. Do you know what is for dinner?”

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