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golden-barnes · 2 years

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Operation get Mr Bucky and Momma together

Paring: Beefy and Teacher! Bucky x milf! reader

Summary: Bucky doesn't play favorites but Amaya is definitely his favorite, especially because her mom is hot.. Cue a 6-year-old trying to get Bucky to be her dad. {wc: 2.2k}

Warning: a bit of bucky being insecure but not that much, Karen parent being annoying, bucky is a fool but amaya is gonna fixed it.

a/n: I've been sitting on this for months but I had to step back from this account bc of everything. thankfully I finished this before my electricity went puff but not my best job. pls have mercy bc I'm rusty.

Part 2

Bucky knew there weren’t many male first-grade teachers. But honestly, it was his dream job. He was teaching the country's future and helping them become better people.

Also, 6-year-olds love him, especially with his fantasy land classroom he forced Steve to help decorate. Bucky loved being a teacher, and he loved his kids. Relatively easy to get up every day at 6 am when you love your job.

That being said, he knows he shouldn’t have a favorite student. So it’s basically written in the teacher’s rule book.

But Amaya was undoubtedly his favorite of his unruly kids. She was very spirited. Amaya loved helping out her classmates and talking to them. She was just the best student he had ever had.

She is amusing. Every day she comes to him with a story about her mom. Unfortunately, Bucky hadn't met her yet because she was busy with work. Still, he interacted with Amaya’s second contact, Natasha.

At this point, Bucky feels like he knows her. How she likes tulips. Her favorite color is pink, which is Amaya’s favorite, but that’s a funny coincidence. He knows that Amaya and her mom go to the museum every week on the day they have special events for kids. Amaya’s favorite exhibit is the one about mythical creatures.

“Momma likes the one with the paintings. She likes the one with the man who gives the girl a flower.” Amaya tells Bucky. Amaya always goes to Bucky’s desk after finishing her classwork because if she doesn’t, she distracts her classmates. Or give her classmates the answers, so this is the only way to keep her entertained. She always takes this time to draw something for Bucky to hang on his wall of drawings.

“Oh, Mister Bucky! Momma is going to come to pick me up today.” Bucky cursed mentally, completely forgetting today was parent-teacher conference.

Talking to 6-year-olds was a lot easier than talking to adults. Especially when you are telling parents that their kids are having problems. The worst part of the job, honestly. If Bucky could just teach his kids, send letters to the parents, and never interact with them, he would.

“Going to meet the elusive Miss (Y/N)?” Steve, his best friend, asked. Because of budget cuts, Steve was currently the art teacher for the entire school. Did he like it? Probably not having the kindergarteners put glitter in his hair, but he enjoyed a challenge.

“Apparently,” Bucky mumbled, opening his lunch. Just a ham and cheese sandwich because he was running late.

“She finally showing up to a conference?” Sam asked, heating up his lunch. Sam was the history teacher for the 4th and 5th graders. He was also a pain in Bucky’s ass, but he decided not to think about it and focused on his incoming stomach ache.

Fuck, now Bucky had to clean his classroom and prepare everything. What if one of those Karen parents shows up and starts complaining about stupid things? About how his classroom is Lord of the Rings theme and how that's bad for kids? Maybe about how he’s a male teacher? He is already spiraling.

“Oh, you are talking about Amaya’s mom? I met her when I was Amaya’s kindergarten teacher. She’s really nice and - “ Wanda started talking but was interrupted by her twin brother Pietro, the gym teacher.

“She is also smoking hot. Like ultimate Milf in this whole school. ” He comments, which makes Bucky feel even worse because how will he talk with a pretty girl? He hasn’t done that since college.

Wanda rolled her eyes at her brother and sat down next to Steve to eat her lunch.

“You’ll be great though, Barnes. She’s really nice, and you are a great teacher, so you won’t have any problems with her.” Wanda reassures her coworker. Bucky takes a deep breath and takes another bite off his sandwich.

“And I still believe my son should be seated in the front.” Mrs. Robinson complained, which she had been doing for the past hour and a half. Going past the hour dialogue they are supposed to be having. But since Amaya’s mom is running late.

“Mrs. Robinson, I understand, but some kids in the classroom require specific accommodations. Because of that, the entire front row is taken. So I can’t sit Tommy in the front. “ Bucky explained for the 10th time. Mrs. Robinson just rolled her eyes and huffed.

Before she could complain again, someone knocked on the door. A woman in formal and professional clothing stepped into the classroom. Amaya popped into the classroom with the brightest smile.

“Mister Bucky! I brought Momma!” She screamed excitedly. Amaya’s mom tried to quiet her, but from Bucky’s experience, Amaya is impossible to corral.

“Well, Mrs. Robinson, my 4 o'clock is here.” Bucky said nervously, trying to politely kick out Mrs. Robinson and her big-ass attitude.

“We could discuss this further in another parent-teacher conference.” It took everything for Bucky not to roll his eyes. Fucking self-observed parents think their children are the only ones that matter, Bucky thinks to himself.

“Sorry for my tardiness; I got held up at work.” Amaya’s mom apologizes. Woah, she really is pretty, Bucky thinks.

“Don’t worry, Mrs. (Y/L/N).” Bucky says, trying to catch his breath.

“Please call me (Y/N).” She smiled sweetly at Bucky. Bucky gulped.

“Let me get to the point; Amaya is a fantastic student. One of the best. She is above her group’s reading level. She writes pretty clearly for her age. No complaints from me; whatever you are doing at home is workin’.” Bucky explained, (Y/N) smiling at her daughter, who was too entertained with Bucky’s snowball on his desk.

“Thank you, but I can’t take that much credit. Maya absolutely adores you.” Bucky blushes at her praise.

“She’s a good kid; it’s easy to teach kids like her.” Bucky praised Amaya, who was surprisingly quiet. Which would scare Bucky because if there’s one thing he learned from teaching first graders is that quiet means trouble. But he dismissed it because she wouldn’t do anything wild with her mom right next to her.

“Thank you, Mr. Barnes, for everything. With getting a new job and having to provide for my family, you’ve literally given me so much peace.” (Y/N) leaned in closer.

“If I am being honest, I was worried about ‘Maya’s performance at school. “ She whispered, but Bucky gave her a reassuring smile.

“Amaya, could you please give these papers to Mr. Rogers?” Amaya nodded and grabbed the papers Bucky had handed her. Then, Bucky sent a text to Steve telling him to keep Amaya out of his classroom to talk to her mom.

“I haven’t noticed a difference in her behavior if that makes you feel any better,” Bucky reassured her. She sighed.

“I am worried about her. Ever since she was born, her dad has been in and out of her life. Now he has disappeared for good. Amaya has been acting like it doesn’t bother her, but no first grader should hide their feelings.” She confesses. Bucky wants to do two things. 1) kick Amaya’s father for being a piece of shit and abandoning such a precious child and her mom. And 2) himself for getting excited by hearing that (Y/N) is single. He can already hear his mother chastising him.

“I’m so sorry to hear that (Y/N).” Bucky said earnestly. She just shook her head.

“It’s okay. Any advice for me?” She said in a joking tone, trying to alleviate the tension. Bucky lets out a nervous chuckle.

“Just keep being there. In my experience, being present and making the child feel like they have a support system is the best way to help them during this difficult time.” Bucky smiled at her.

“Thank you. See you on Monday?” (Y/N) said, getting up from her chair.

“Yes. Definitely.” Bucky felt his heart beating at a faster pace.

This school year was definitely going to be interesting. So Bucky thinks, watching Y/N walking out of his classroom.

What Bucky doesn’t know is that Amaya plans to make life more enjoyable. She was supposed to be sleeping, but she heard Auntie Tasha’s voice and decided to say hi.

“Nat, you could’ve warned me, you know!” (Y/N) explained. Natasha laughed, handing her best friend a glass of wine.

“He is hot, isn't he?” Natasha grins. Amaya looked at her mom, who had a goofy smile. She has never seen her mom with a smile like that.

“Ridiculously hot. And his eyes? Nat, his eyes are just so gray. I almost spilled my entire life story right there and then.” (Y/N) groans. Natasha just laughs.

“It should be illegal to have a first-grade teacher look that hot.” (Y/N) added, grabbing a handful of popcorn.

“Just wait till you see him in casual Fridays. That man looks excellent in a Henley. “ Natasha joked, but that seemed to disturb (Y/N) even more. “Look out ‘Maya you might have a new daddy.”

What auntie Tasha said made Amaya think. Mister Bucky was her favorite teacher, and she wished her momma would be happy. Them together would mean that she would have Mister Bucky around forever, and Momma would be happy and have a goofy smile like that forever.

That’s when Operation get Mr. Bucky and Momma together was born.

Every day after finishing her classwork, Amaya would go to Bucky’s desk and talk to him. Most of the things she said were little seeds to push him to get close to her mom.

Today was different; Amaya’s patience was thinning. A week passed, and every day when her mom would pick her up, she saw the googly eyes her mom and Mister Bucky were giving each other. It’s time for the big guns, Amaya thought.

“Mister Bucky, do you have a dad?” Buck was shocked at Amaya’s question.

“Yes, I do.” Amaya sighed dramatically after hearing Bucky’s answer.

“I don’t… I wish I knew what that was like.” Bucky’s heart broke hearing that. Amaya had her head down, but Bucky couldn’t see her smirk.

“You will one day. I promise.” Bucky knew he shouldn’t say that but wanted to uplift her and give her hope.

“Hey, Mister Bucky, maybe you could be my dad!” Amaya said, doing a complete 180 in her demeanor. Bucky almost spits out his coffee, and he starts to cough. But unfortunately, he fell right into Amaya’s trap.

“I don’t know about that, Amaya,” Amaya smirks.

“But Mister Bucky, momma already likes you. You would be a great dad.” Was it embarrassing for Bucky that his 6-year-old student was trying to hook him up with her mom? Maybe but hearing that said mom liked him did give him a bit of an ego.

“Really?” Amaya nodded enthusiastically.

“She said that she really likes your eyes.” Amaya admitted. Bucky knew he shouldn’t be asking these questions. If Sam knew, he wouldn’t hear the end of it.

“Is there anything else she said?” Bucky asked, acting casually as if a 6-year-old was gonna read his body language. However, Amaya is too smart for her own good.

“I heard her telling Auntie Jen that she liked it when you wear red shirts.” Bucky made a note to buy more red shirts after school.

“Is your mom going to pick you up today?” Bucky asked; Amaya nodded.

“She said we were going to the mall today,” Amaya explained. She could feel her plan working, but who knows? Grown-ups were weird.

Bucky’s heart needs to catch a break. That being said, seeing (Y/N) every afternoon, his poor heart won't be getting any. Especially when she came in with her lawyer suits. It was like a punch in the gut.

But what really hit him like a punch in the gut was what Amaya said when her mom came to pick her up.

She grabbed Bucky’s hand and pulled him towards her mom, who was waiting outside the classroom.

“Momma, Bucky said he would be my daddy.” Amaya said with the biggest grin. Bucky choked on his own saliva and started coughing. While (Y/N) just started laughing.

“Did he now?” (Y/N) asked her daughter, that was excited that her plan “worked.”

“I- uhm. I didn’t say that she took it out of context. But, I mean- I” Bucky’s ramble was interrupted by (Y/N).

“It’s okay, Mr. Barnes. I know how Amaya can be. Don’t worry.” Bucky sighed out of relief.

“Mommaaaaa…” Amaya whined; her mom just rolled her eyes.

“Yes, ‘Maya?” (Y/N) asked in a snarky tone. Amaya signaled to her to lean down. Amaya whispered something to her. (Y/N) giggled with her daughter.

“Mr. Barnes, would you like to go out for coffee someday?” (Y/N) asked, Amaya still giggling behind her mom.

“I would love to.” Bucky said, which caused Amaya to do a little victory dance in the back. As if nobody could see her. (Y/N) turned around and laughed at her daughter’s antics. She pulled something out of her jacket, a piece of paper.

“I have to go, Mr. Barnes. Sorry for my little troublemaker.”She said, handing him the piece of paper with her personal phone number. Bucky was confused.

“What is this for?” Bucky asked, utterly confused about what this meant.

“For whenever you would like to get that cup of coffee.” She told him, grabbing Amaya’s hand and walking towards his card.

Bucky felt his cheeks heat up. He might admit that Amaya was his favorite student, even if she played matchmaker.

He looked down at the card. Oh, he is gonna call.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader #imagine bucky #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you

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tomriddleslove · 3 months

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Pt 2 - The one that you want.

✩Theodore Nott x Reader

Pt 2 to Hey, trouble (DELETED)

Summary: The one where just as things are beginning to look up, everything comes crashing down. Alternatively: Tension, Fluff, Angst.

A/N: This fic was written very sleep deprived so I ask you to bear with me. The second part is my favourite so just stick with it.

Songs: The Way - Mac Miller, Ariana Grande

Lover, you should have come over - Jeff Buckley

Promise - Laufey

NOTE: I accidentally deleted my account and did not have the first part of this mini series saved! I will probably rewrite it but there is some context you should know, so i’ll try summarise it as concisely as possible:

You and Theodore used to be really good friends when you first joined Hogwarts. Naturally, as you both got older, you changed slightly. Theodore came back one summer and he seemed completely different, he was not only incredibly handsome but he had generally flourished as a person. The girls all loved him and he found a new set of friends, essentially forgetting about you. Time skip a few years and you become friends with Pansy, and the rest of the group. Theodore greets you as though nothing has changed. You habour a lot of resentment to him initially, but realise you really do love chilling with the group and so you set it to the side. In the fic, you’re at a party and you head up to the roof. Theodore appears and you chat for the first time in ages. It gets a bit tense when you subtly call him out but you try brush it off as a joke. He noticed you at their quidditch practice earlier on in the day with mattheos number painted on your face, and he sounds a bit jealous. You assure him it was only for jokes, though you’re confused as to why he’d be upset. Theodore (internally ) alludes to loving you and you’re both emotionally stunted idiots in love.

AND that brings us back to now. Enjoy xx

Friday had finally come, and you couldn't think of a word that could place just how relieved you were feeling. Don't get it wrong, you hugely valued your education, and took pride in working hard, but at the end of the day, there's only so much history of magic one could tolerate before their brain tuned out. The surprise quiz you took in class today told you that you had reached that point many months ago. But it was ok, that was an issue for the future.

You click open the door to your dorm room, tossing your bag haphazardly to the side as you undo your tie, pulling it loose with a groan of relief. Pansy is sprawled out comfortably on your bed because apparently, yours was comfier (they were the exact same thing, she just couldn't be bothered to make hers in the morning.)

You flick a strand of hair that fell in front of your face with a dramatic sigh as you flop down onto the bed, lying perpendicular to Pansy as you rest your head on her lap. She has a half smile of amusement as her hand comes down to pat your head, eyes trained on her book. You raise a brow and shuffle up slightly to catch a glimpse of what she was reading.

You see the word ‘shaft’ once and that's all you need to see as you gasp with fake indignation.

“Pansy… Whilst I'm sitting here?” You groan and she grins, her face slightly red as she shrugs, shameless.

I mean, come on. You weren't a stranger to smut, but right in front of you? You grab the book from her hand and toss it across the room.

“None of that whilst I'm here. Your amazing and beautiful friend is vying for attention so focus on me.’ You say and she playfully rolls her eyes as she lies back on her bed.

“It's disgustingly hot. I can't be bothered for this year anymore. The days are as hot as hell depths and the evening has me freezing my nonexistent balls off.” Pansy moans, and you hum in agreement.

You’re grateful for your friend and her seemingly never-ending talent of speaking because you currently couldn't even muster the energy to speak.

“Do we have to go watch the boys today? Lila told me Madam Pince has charmed the library with a cooling spell. We could go there instead.” Pansy says, sitting up, and the idea is incredibly tempting. You live for nothing more than to get out of this dastardly heat, especially in the comfort of the library (Pansy and yourself had mastered the art of smuggling snacks in. The key was in making sure you triple-checked what you bought in, which you learnt after Pansy had accidentally sat on a Fizzlebees Exploding Sherbet last winter. The poor 1st year who had sat next to you was sure that there was some kind of attack and leapt under the nearest table.)

The mention of practice has your mind thinking back to your most recent encounter with Theodore. Just thinking about it again elicited that strange feeling in your stomach. You were, perhaps, close to a path of redemption (though it was more Theodore redeeming himself.)

With a sigh, you shake your head.

“We promised them we'd come. Besides, imagine the absolute havoc Mattheo will cause when he finds out we ditched for the library of all places. He would get us banned for a month, at the very least.” You say, and Pansy grumbles but ultimately knows you’re right. She sighs, muttering.

“Yes yes, I suppose you're right.” She begrudgingly admits and you grin, sitting up. You walk over to your closet, looking for something else to wear as you felt as though you were positively melting in your uniform. You flick through your closet, cursing the endless void that conveniently was full of sweaters and thick jumpers now summer has come. You dig around and find a pair of black denim shorts towards the back. You don't even know when you got them, but they fit and they'll do the job. You're thankful for the fact that you love the feeling of freshly shaven legs on your bedsheets, because heaven knows you would not bother to shave your legs for a man. You manage to find a green shirt, and you slip it on. It's nothing special really, but you weren't dressing up for anyone. You were long past those days now, you found that it was lovely not giving two shits. Pansy called it alarming, but you liked to think of it as… eclectic.

Pansy brings over her signature red lipstick (which you're sure only she can pull off) and holds your cheek in place to draw a number 10 on it, as standard practice. You reach up to grab her hand.

“Wait. Do 7 instead.” You say. She widens her eyes slightly and wiggles her brows as she looks at you.

“Oh? And why is that?” She probes and you playfully swat her, rolling your eyes.

“Theodore just asked me to. Besides we shouldn't inflate Mattheo's ego too much.” You respond a bit too quickly, and she has a shit-eating grin on her face. Pansy knows you well though, and she knows probing any further will only give her a stinging hex and nothing more, so she simply looks at you with a pointed look as she draws the 7 on instead. You watch as she traces the number 7 on her face too, adjusting her hair as she pouts and blows a kiss at herself in the mirror. You pointedly roll your eyes to tease her and she throws a pillow at you.

“Alright alright, you humble lady. Let's go.” You muse, holding your arm out. The two of you link arms as you descend down to the quidditch pitch. The sun is shining blazing down on you, and you feel uncomfortably hot and sticky within a few seconds of being outside. You truly weren't built for warm weather.

The grass on the pitch is a beautiful rich green and the sky is so picturesquely blue that it seems more like a postcard as opposed to real life. You imagine that this must be their favourite season; you had entertained the idea of watching one match in the winter season and immediately stopped after a gust of wind sent a bird flying into the girl sitting above you (You were sure it had given her that scratch on her cheek.) You couldn't cope with watching a match in such harsh weather, and you couldn't even begin to imagine how it must be to play in such conditions.

Idiots, really. They brought it on themselves. They definitely came to that realisation when they would be dragged out of bed at 5:00 am to go play in the freezing cold whilst you remained blissfully asleep under your warm covers.

You clamber up the stairs of the stands and curse under your breath. For all the beauty and wonders the wizarding world had, was it really that damn hard to have a few escalators here and there? You wanted to watch a practice game, not train to have the thighs of Hercules. You finally reach the top and shimmy down the benches with Pansy, leaning against the railing, The team was already up in the air, circling around whilst tossing the ball to one another. For all the grace and elegance Draco exuded on the ground, you couldn’t help but snicker when you catch the sight of him looking like he had slathered himself in red paint, all sweaty and grimacing; strands of his blonde hair clinging to his face.

“You alright up there Draco? Mummy forget to send you some sun cream?” You call out teasingly, and he sneers at you as Mattheo cackles, swooping down on his broom to greet you and Pansy.

“There they are!” Blaise says, a small grin on his face as he flies down to your level, joining Mattheo. You don’t even have the time to greet him because a loud gasp escapes Mattheo's lips, his hand coming out to grip your chin, tilting your face to the side.

“Traitors!” Mattheo says, eyes flickering between Pansy and yourself. You can't keep the grin off your face as you pry your face out of Mattheo's hands.

“Oh come on Mattheo. We love you all equally and need to express that love as such.” Pansy drawls, a taunting grin on her face.

“Fuck off, I'm the only important one,” Mattheo responds, puffing out his chest as he points to himself.

Blaise has to hold back from rolling his eyes, looking over at you exasperatedly. You exchange a glance with him and you feel your lips curl up into a small smile as you stifle a laugh.

“This was your doing! What did you do to them? Now I'm going to play like shit!” Mattheo whines, as he turns to look up at Theodore.

Theodore.

Your eyes flicker up and sure enough there he is. And god, how dare he look so good in this disgusting heat. His eyes are (and you have the feeling they were like that for quite a bit) trained on you, an unreadable expression on his face. He keeps his gaze on you, and you're sure at that moment he was trying to seduce your soul or play some stupid kind of mind tricks on you to have you thinking of him all day (it was working.)

His lips curl up into that godforsaken smile that borders on a smug little smirk. It has you embarrassingly weak in the knees and suddenly you're very glad it's hot, for you could blame your red cheeks on the heat. He flies down, tearing his gaze away from you as he comes close to Mattheo.

“Come on Mattheo, I’ve got an audience so I need to make sure I beat you embarrassingly quickly today,” Theodore says, egging his friend on.

“Yeah fucking right,” Mattheo says, turning to Theodore as the two engage in the most awful, embarrassing trash talk. You and Pansy exchange a glance and the two of you side-eye them with disdain.

The simple mind of boys managed to amaze you every time. Their attention span was impressively short.

Proving your point, Mattheo flies up to poke fun at Draco and Lorenzo, who both didn't seem to be holding up too well with the heat. You lean your elbows on the railing and stiffen slightly when Theodore flies up next to you. He hovers on his broom mid-air, resting his elbow on the railing in front of you. His face is incredibly close to yours, analysing your face with those sinful eyes of him which should be illegal because

Fuck, you were deprived.

“You wore it.” He says, and he sounds oddly breathless. You were assured by Blaise mere minutes ago that they had barely started practising.

Why did it seem so hard to speak? Why did Theodore seem so surprised? Why did you feel so bashful?

“You asked.” You respond, and his eyes search yours for a second before a smile tugs at his lips. His hand reaches out to cup your face, tilting it to the side as he looks at the 7 on your cheek.

Was this all it took for Theodore to touch you?

You’d have to start drawing 7 everywhere.

His fingers brush against your jaw, and you let out a shaky breath as his thumb runs along your cheek.

His touch leaves a fiery trail in its wake, and you are sure he has to be doing some sort of nonverbal magic because you feel as though you are going crazy. You resist the urge to let your eyes flutter shut because Theodore Nott simply has that effect.

He turns your head back and you stare at one another for a second more before he pulls back, and your mouth feels awfully dry.

“Mattheo smudged it.” He says, and his voice sounds slightly strained as he says so. You can't keep the corners of your lips from lifting slightly as you nod.

“Right.” You breathe out, looking at him. He grins, and this time you have to be sure you have not secured yourself a one-way ticket to the Janus Thickey Ward of St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, because you swear his eyes flicker down to your lips for a brief second before he leans back like he's been forced to do so, wordlessly looking at you once more before he grips the broom with one hand, effortlessly flying up to start practice.

You don’t even have the time to process whatever that was because your ever-eloquent and insightful friend speaks the very thoughts running through your head.

“What in the ever-loving fuck was that?” Pansy utters, eyes wide as she stares at the spot where Theodore was standing.

Amen to that, Pansy. What in the ever-loving fuck was that?

Your hand hovers over your cheek, ghosting over the place Theodore had just touched.

You part your lips to say something, but can't even formulate the words, and Pansy recognises that.

“Holy Shit! He- That-” She says, hands grabbing your shoulders as she shakes you. You're ashamed to say you needed it because you were sure you were dreaming.

“What's going on between you two? First, you’re wearing his number to the match. Then he's practically eye fucking you and you're both literally about to make out.” Pansy babbles and you roll your eyes at her dramatics.

“Oh calm down, Pansy. He barely looked at me, and he was just fixing it because Mattheo had smudged it. There's nothing going on.” She says and Pansy narrows her eyes.

“Oh yes, and I’m fucking straight. We both know that's a lie.” She deadpans, and you shake your head with an exasperated smile.

You couldn't tell whether you wanted to crack up with laughter or strangle the shit out of her. With Pansy, the line blurred more often than not. It’s why you loved her so dearly.

“Genuinely Pansy, nothing’s going on between Theodore and me. We used to be really good friends. That's all.” You say, with a tone of finality. She sighs, mumbling under her breath.

“….Painfully obvious”

“Both know that's a lie…..”

“Hopeless idiot…”

You shoot her a glare at her mumbling and she returns the sentiment with a pointed smile, enough to make you roll your eyes with amusement. You rest your head on her shoulder as the two of you watch the match.

The day Theodore had walked past you like you simply didn't exist was the day you swore to yourself you'd never, EVER, let yourself be good friends with him again. You stuck to your word always, yet this was proving to be one time where you didn't.

You prayed you wouldn't regret this, but alas, the universe is cruel at times.

The news of Draco’s father cancelling their annual summer holiday trip came surprisingly as great news to your groups as you all lounged in the library (which was as packed as it had ever been thanks to Madam Pince’s cooling charm. You all begged her to teach you the spell but she refused, and you were sure she kept it hidden to make sure people came to the library. Luckily for the group, you were one of the most conscientious students in your year, so you'd all get away with things due to the teachers favouring you greatly. A few other groups were kicked out immediately.)You all sat in a cosy arrangement in the far back end of the library. Pansy sat on the floor beside you, whilst you lounged in an armchair, feet thrown over one arm. Blaise sat on the other arm of the chair, with Draco and Theodore sitting opposite you. Between the armchair and sofa facing one another was a third sofa and a small round table. Mattheo and Lorenzo sat on that third sofa. Lorenzo stretches, sprawled out as he props his feet up on the table. You reach out and slap him with the book you were reading, and he cowers sheepishly as he puts his feet down.

“I was looking forward to summer in Versailles,” Draco complains, and you sigh. Would be nice to be able to go on such trips.

“Actually…” Pansy says, sitting up as though she’s just had an idea. Knowing your friend, you can't help but feel terrified about what's about to come out of her mouth.

“My parents have a beautiful holiday home down in France and they're going to Australia this year, so it's not being used. Why don't we all spend a week there?” Pansy says.

It's actually a very clever Idea, and a chorus of murmurs of agreement and nods echo throughout the group.

“That actually sounds good” Lorenzo says, and Blaise hums in agreement.

“I have family who live in France so they could sort out travel for us when we are there. I'm sure I can go.” Baise says and Pansy claps her hands excitedly, rubbing them together like some kind of evil genius (sometimes you were sure she was.)

“Draco, Theo?” Pansy says, and the mention of Theo's name has your eyes flickering up from your book. He's looking at you but the second your eyes meet he quickly looks at Pansy and nods, clearing his throat.

“Huh? Oh, uh- yeah.Sounds good.” He says. You lightly smile to yourself as you look down at your book.

“ I suppose I’ll tolerate it.” Draco sighs, and a chorus of groans escapes the group at his melodramatic behaviour.

“Oh piss off Draco, just admit you like us,” Mattheo says and Draco scoffs.

The boys very quickly once again get into a semi-play fight, and a stern hush from Madam Pince as she glares at the group of you sends them both sheepishly quiet. She walks away and it’s your turn to glare at the two boys.

“She may like me now, but if you two don't shut up she sure as fuck won't, and ill set your robes on fire if you force me to get through the summer whilst being banned from the library.” You spit, scolding them.

Mattheo and Draco both look down like children being chastised and Blaise has to hide his amusement as he nudges your shoulder, getting up.

“Right well, that's our cue to leave anyway. Have the real match tomorrow so we need an early night.” Blaise says. One by one everyone gets up, Pansy pushing off the floor with a sigh as she dusts down her skirt.

She turns to you, raising a brow.

“You coming?” She asks, holding a hand out and you look up, shaking your head.

“Nah. Gonna stay here for a while. Finish reading this.” You say, holding up your book with a weak smile. Pansy shakes her head with a smile, ruffling your hair (much to your dismay).

“My little neek. Have fun!” She says, and you flip her off at the comment. She grins, blowing a fake kiss back at you as she manoeuvres past the wooden bookshelves and out of the library.

You sigh and feel as though you're sinking further into the plush armchair, a pillow held to your chest as you read your book. Everything about the library was so pleasantly calming. The dim lights that cast dancing shadows of the book spines across the wall. The bibliosmia that you inhaled deeply as you lay for what felt like hours, reading whatever you could get your hands on. You’re so caught up in the allure of the library (Pansy might have a point, you definitely were a neek), that you don't even notice the presence of someone coming to sit down on the sofa next to you until the sound of the leather cushions sagging under weight draws your attention up from the pages of the book.

Seriously? Were you actually that oblivious? It was extremely alarming if you were.

You look up and see Theodore moving to take a seat on the sofa next to you. He stretches out his legs, his large frame suddenly making the space seem a lot smaller.

“Hey.” He says, and your lips quirk up in a smile as you speak.

“Hey,” You respond, folding the corner of your book.

“What are you reading?” Theodore asks, and you raise a brow.

Did he really have an interest in the book you were reading? A few years ago the Theodore you knew would never touch a book (though he would listen to you ramble on about them for an hour.)

But Theodore has changed, And so have you. He’s no longer the Theodore you knew, and the reminder turns the feeling in your stomach unpleasant.

You hold up your book, weakly smiling as you show him the cover. It was rather beaten and bruised, but you had owned this copy since your first year. You’ve reread it more times than you can count.

“Little women,” Theodore says, a small smile of recognition on his face. He remembered you, always walking around with that book. Theodore couldn’t comprehend what half the words in the book meant, but he remembered hearing you talk about it and thinking you were truly the most incredible person he had ever met.

That hadn't really changed.

“Mhmm. Must be my 5th time rereading it this year.” You say, with a small smile, and Theodore lets out a low laugh.

He's looking down at the table, and you admire the way the dim light dances along his features, making them look surprisingly soft.

“Love Jo all your days, if you choose, but don't let it spoil you, for it's wicked to throw away so many good gifts…” Theodore starts, gaze trained ahead.

“......because you can't have the one you want” You finish, quietly.

Theodore's gaze drops to his hands, fiddling with the threads on his bag. The air is thick with unspoken words. A quiet dance of regrets lingers in the spaces between your words.

"Little Women," Theodore repeats, his fingers tracing the zip on his bag. "I remember how you used to quote passages from that book like they were sacred verses. It was almost like a religion for you."

You can sense the undertone in his words—the acknowledgement of a shared past that now exists as a distant echo.

The silence that follows hangs heavy.

You shift uncomfortably in your seat, the worn pages of the book suddenly feeling like a fragile shield against the currents of emotion. Theodore's eyes, once familiar and comforting, now carry a hint of regret and a touch of something unsaid.

"Jo March was always your favourite," he continues, his voice soft, almost hesitant.

“Still is,” you say, and he nods, looking up at you. His smile is tight-lipped, and you fight the urge to reach forward and massage the furrow of his brow. He reaches into the side pocket of his bag, pulling out a book.

Little women.

You frown as you take the copy from him, flicking through it. There are scribbles and annotations all over the pages.

You hate the way you instantly recognise his handwriting - another testament as to how Theodore was weaved into everything you did.

Theodore takes the book back, his fingers lingering on the worn cover. He opens the book, thumbing through the pages, his eyes fixing on the annotations.

"I've been reading it," he admits, his voice a low murmur. "Annotating it. I wanted to see it through your eyes, to understand why it meant so much to you."

You watch him, and your heart clenches at his voice. At his eyes, At the way he speaks, and the way he keeps his head down. The realisation that he held onto this piece of you, even as you both drifted apart, is enough to send you into a spiral.

"I see you in these pages," Theodore continues, his gaze locking onto the annotated paragraphs. "I see you in between the lines, and in the words. I see you in Jo, I see you in the witty comments. Every time I read this, It's like a piece of you is still here with me."

A lump forms in your throat, and you swallow hard, trying to push back the tears that threaten to spill over.

Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry

“Every time I read these words, I feel like I'm back with you, even if just for a moment." He admits, looking up at you.

The devastation in his eyes is surely mirrored in your own.

You want to cry. You want to shout, because how dare he sit here, and speak of you with such reverence, and act like he cares for you when he had forgotten about you so easily? How dare he say he sees you in everything he does when he looked right past you when you stood in front of him?

How dare he act like he missed you when he didn’t?

You can't say anything. You physically can't, because every time you open your mouth it hurts. Grief clings to the pipes, scratching at your throat. It restricts your breathing, it gnaws at you.

Theodore looks at you and clears his throat, quickly looking down. You fail to make out the fact that his own eyes are threatening to spill with tears, as your own teary eyes cloud your vision.

It was always like that with you and Theodore.

Amid your shared tears, the unspoken suddenly becomes the unsayable.

He gets up, and he can't bear to look at your face because every glance of those tears in your eyes eats away at his heart. He grabs his bag and throws it over his shoulder, rushing out for fear of what you might say.

“See you” He murmurs, walking away. You can’t tear your gaze away from where he walks away even as his form disappears, and you swear the boy had taken part of your heart with him.

The quote “Fate was a cruel mistress” Never made much sense to you. Fate was beautiful even in its destructive nature. Fate was unstoppable, she didn't wait for anyone or veer away. You used to admire that about her. You found it to be a beautiful thing. Of course, it's because you also believe that fate would only wait for you. Wait that one extra second. Then, perhaps, Theodore and you would be on the same path. Instead, you were two, walking the same path only a heartbeat apart. As if time itself conspires to teach that love can occur in the same book, but pages apart.

You cannot love the beauty of her tenacity and cower from it too.

#harry potter #slytherin #tom riddle #theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x you #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott fic #lorenzo berkshire #mattheo riddle #draco malfoy #blaise zabini #pansy parkinson #slytherin boys fic #slytherin boys #theodore nott angst

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munsonluhvr · 4 months

Text

CRUSH

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader word count: 3.7k warnings: fluff, nervous Eddie, bullying, mentions of a fight, light cussing, alluding to eating disorder, probs misspellings lol

next chapter: part 2

You take a deep breath as you open the door to exit your classroom; feeling relief that you were finished with your least favorite class – chemistry.

Sneakers squeak all around you, your fellow schoolmates excited to be out of class and going to lunch, as you made your way down the hallway. You get to your locker, twisting the lock that held the door closed until it popped open. To your surprise, Chrissy Cunningham, your closest friend, slides up next to you, leaning against the set of lockers that neighbor yours.

“Look who survived chemistry another day,” she exclaims, nudging your shoulder. Chrissy knew how much you hated chemistry.

“Somehow; I zone out by the first twenty minutes,” You say, shaking your head. “I’m not looking forward to the final.”

Chrissy giggles, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “That’s me with Mr. Khan’s class. He makes history so boring.”

Before you could respond, Jason Carver, Chrissy’s boyfriend, sneaks up to hugs Chrissy from behind. She squeals with surprise, and you roll your eyes, annoyed by how in love your friends were. They had been dating for some time now, always having their hands on each other. Since then, you’ve been a third wheel, nonetheless, still very included. You put your books away, re-locking the door.

“You survived chemistry again, y/n!” Jason says, catching your eye.

Chrissy giggles, “That’s exactly what I said.”

You laugh, leaning back on your locker, joining Chrissy and Jason who watch fellow school-mates walk by. Several guys from the basketball team came up to Jason, patting him on the back and saying hello. Their girlfriends, who were friends of yours and Chrissy from the cheerleading squad, came up to you and Chrissy. Your group is bigger, having accumulated boys and girls from the basketball team and cheerleading squad. You chat together, laughing as your friends make jokes. Your eyes are pulled away from your friends when Eddie Munson, leader of the 'Hellfire' club walks by with his friends.

Your breath hitches as you watch Eddie walk by who is in deep in conversation with Dustin Henderson, laughing about something someone in their group said. Just as he passes by, Eddie looks up, making eye contact with you. Your stomach twists, already blushing under his gaze. His eyes go wide, noticing your gaze on him, and he pauses in his steps.

You take in his appearance, as you usually do every day, and your fingers dig into the fabric on your skirt. Today, he wears Hellfire's club t-shirt, a jean jacket, black jeans (hugging him in all the right places), and his typical dirty white sneakers. His face was beautiful, as always, freshly shaved and a smile planted on his mouth.

You're pulled out of your gaze when Jason claps his hands, also pulling Eddie out of his trance. “Keep moving, freak.”

Eddie's eyes automatically drop to the floor and he picks his pace to catch up with his group of friends that moved forward with out him. You blink, turning back to Chrissy who shoved Jason lightly. "That's not nice, Jason." Chrissy muttered, shaking her head. "Don't say that."

You feel guilty, associating with people that make fun of others, calling them names to make them feel inferior. You turn your head slightly to watch Eddie walk away, heading into the cafeteria. Jason and his friends laugh, amusing themselves.

You look back at Chrissy, "Should we head into lunch? I'm starving."

She shrugs, and then nods. "Sure."

You and Chrissy make your way into the cafeteria, weaving through the large crowd that is doing the same thing; Jason and his friends trail behind. The table you and your friends sit at every day waits for you completely empty, the perks of being on the cheerleader team. You hate to admit it, but you enjoy being popular. Being elevated in the high school social system adds an extra layer of ease and carefree-ness. Or does it?

Your eyes flick to find where Eddie and the Hellfire club sit, always on the right side of the cafeteria. You spot them sitting down with trays already in hand.

"I'll get your food for you, y/n" Alex, a friend of Jason, says as he pulls out one of the chairs for you to sit down. You smile, putting on your pleased face. Alex is sweet to you, but that's about it. Of course, Jason would disagree. Alex plays rough on the court, usually targeting the skinniest kids on the opposing team to knock over. He laughs when they fall, high-fiving other players. It makes your stomach twist to watch from the sidelines.

You sit with the some of the girls who wait for their boyfriends to bring them their food that the cafeteria is serving today. After only a minute, Alex places your tray of food down in front of you and you thank him. He smiles at you, pleased with himself, and you try your hardest not to roll your eyes. Jason had told Chrissy, who told you, that Alex had a major crush on you, spilling his intentions to ask you to prom. You had pretended to be excited, but in reality you would rather skip prom than go with him.

Jason sits next to Chrissy, who sat with no tray in front of her. You frown, "Chrissy, aren't you going to eat?"

Chrissy shakes her head, looking down at her lap. "Not hungry," she says simply.

Jason leans forward to look over at you, snickering "I think she's on a diet or something."

You turn back to your tray, picking up your fork. You bite your lip, thinking about all the times you've noticed Chrissy skip a meal lately. You didn't know if you should say something but you decided it was best to not bring up questions in front of everyone.

Conversation flowed across the table, the loud hum of everyone else chattering in the cafeteria. Chrissy whispers to you about how Alex was staring at you from the other end of the table but you couldn't get yourself to look over. Conversation came to a halt when a performance from another table occurrs.

"As long as you're into band, or science, or parties.." A voice, who you identified as Eddie, says as he stood up on one of the cafeteria tables. Everyone's attention turns to where he stands, elevated over the rest of the cafeteria. Jason and his friends snicker, watching him.

"-Or a game where you toss balls into laundry baskets," Eddie says, aiming his gaze to the table where you and your friends sit.

Jason stood up quickly, his chair knocking over behind him. "You want something, freak?" Jason yells back to Eddie. Chrissy covers her face with her hand, embarrassed by her partners outburst. You shrink in your chair, arms crossing in front of your chest, although you can't help but continue to watch Eddie and Jason's interaction.

In response, Eddie makes horns with his fingers, sticking his tongue out accordingly. For a brief second, Eddie and Jason have a moment of exchanging intense gazes and your breath hitches in fear of what will happen next. Surely, Jason could easily beat Eddie to a pulp in a fight.

"Prick," you hear Jason mutter, turning to pick his chair up and sit back down.

You breathe out, feeling relief that the intense moment between the two boys is over. Jason, however, is still annoyed.

"What is Munson's problem? It's like he wants to get his ass beaten." Jason says, shaking his head.

You zone out, letting the other boys conspire together. Chrissy leans over, nudging your shoulder. "Boys are so stupid, right?" She says, smiling big enough to show her two front teeth that overlapped. You smiled, agreeing, "So stupid."

The bell rang loudly across the cafeteria sending everyone to disperse from where they sat. Jason leans to kiss Chrissy on the cheek and followed his friends out of the room. Your eyes catch Eddie walking out, and again, he looks over and catches your eye. You smile, and his face expresses surprise that a girl in a cheerleader outfit would lend him such a gesture. You feel embarrassed for a moment until Eddie lifts his hand slightly, offering you a small, almost unnoticeable wave. You return the wave, and he smiles too, continuing to walk out the cafeteria doors.

Your stomach flips at the littlest interaction with Eddie, although this was the most you and Eddie had ever interacted before. You had noticed him look at you sometimes, and vice versa. Eddie had caught you looking at him too. But of course, your friend groups and social status kept you apart although you knew you wouldn't care what either would have to say about being seen with Eddie.

The rest of the school day went by quickly, you only had two classes left. The first one, English, went by fast without much excitement. History was your last class of the day and what occurs upends the rest of your day.

The previous week, Mr. Kepner had assigned a paper on a historical moment that was similar to the historical events the class had covered already. You had chosen to write about Egyptian civilization and you hoped you had done a decent job as you underestimated the complexity and denseness of the topic.

At the beginning of class, Mr. Kepner places graded papers on everyones desk. You take a deep breath before flipping the paper over to see a '100%' placed at the corner of your paper. Written next to the grade was 'see me after class.' You frown wondering how you could be in trouble by getting a perfect grade.

Your stomach was in knots for the rest of the class, afraid to hear what Mr. Kepner had to say to you. When class concluded, you walked up to your teachers desk.

"Y/n, I must say well done on your paper." Mr. Kepner says, taking his glasses off.

"Thank you, Mr. Kepner."

"I was thinking that you should submit the paper for the school's annual scholarship contest." Mr. Kepner says, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "I dare say you'd have a good chance at winning."

You're flattered, feeling stupid for worrying so much about the paper and not having confidence in your work. "I'd love to; do I have to fill out a form?"

Mr. Kepner begins to explain how to submit the paper and your mind went to the fact that you were cutting it close to missing your bus. Normally you peel out of class to miss the first bus instead of waiting twenty more minutes for the next one.

"-and that should be enough. I'll sign off on your submission of course." Mr. Kepner says, handing you the form to fill out.

You nod, taking the paper and side stepping away from his desk to head towards the door.

"Miss y/n, I still have more to discuss with you." Mr. Kepner says, watching you head towards the door. "I think you should take AP History next year. Your work is far more advanced than your classmates and I think you'd be better suited there."

You nod, still inching towards the door. "That would be great, Mr. Kepner. That would help with college admissions too. I'm really sorry but I have to catch my bus."

Mr. Kepner nods, standing up. "So sorry to keep you, y/n. I hope I didn't make you miss the bus. See you tomorrow."

You peel out of the room, listening to the door slam behind you. You jog to the end of the door at the hallway, ignoring the stares from the people you run pass. Once you reach the end of the hallway to the parking lot, you push open the door. Your eyes scan the parking lot to see the back end of your bus driving away from you.

"Fuck," you whisper to yourself.

"Let me guess, that was your bus." A voice says beside to you. You turn your head to see Eddie standing next to you.

You turn quickly back to look ahead of you, "That was my bus. Freakin' Mr. Kepner made me miss it. "

Eddie hums, "Ohh yeah. Mr. Kepner is a chatterbox. You're y/n, right?" Eddie leans against the brick wall of the school, his leg propping him up.

You nod, "That's me."

"I'm Eddie Munson." Eddie says, pushing himself off the wall to stand next to you. He has a curious smile on his face, as he puts his hand out for you to shake.

You match his smile, amused by his hand placed in front of you. You take his hand, shaking it. "I know who you are."

Eddie stares at you for a minute, analyzing your face. His eyes move from yours to your lips. You feel nervous under his gaze and you cough to break the moment. "So, what are you still doing at school? I'd assume you be out the minute the bell rings to go play that game you and your friends play."

Eddie places a hand on his chest. "It's Dungeons and Dragons; it's not just a game, it's a lifestyle. I'm waiting to make some extra cash." Eddie says, pulling a small bag with green lumps in it. You had previously heard some of the basketball players talk about Eddie's quality of products. You raise your eyebrows and nod, "I see."

Eddie tucks the bag away and clasps his hands in front of him. "When does the next bus come?"

You sigh, "Twenty minutes or something like that."

Eddie coos, "That won't do. I can take you home after my client comes."

You laugh, "Your client? Pretty fancy for a drug dealer."

"I'm not a drug dealer, it's just a side hustle."

"Sure," You say, a teasing tone lacing your words. You don't want to come off excited to spend time alone with Eddie. "If it's not any trouble, I would appreciate a ride home."

Eddie nods and before he could speak, Alex turns around the corner. "Y/n?" Alex says, looking between you and Eddie. "Is this freak bothering you?"

You shake your head, "No, Alex. I just missed by bus and I'm waiting."

"Are we going to do this or not? Twenty bucks, brother." Eddie says, displaying the bag of weed to Alex. Alex scoffs, "I'm not your brother and here." Alex places a paper bill in Eddie's hand.

Eddie takes the bill, tucking it into his pocket. "Thanks for doing business."

Alex ignores Eddie, turning towards you. "Y/n, I'll drive you home so you don't have to wait."

You grimace, but catch yourself and put a fake smile on. "It's okay, Alex. Eddie already offered."

Alex turns to Eddie who offers him a simple smile. Alex shakes his head, "I'm sure Eddie has a club of freaks to attend to. Just get in my car."

You turn away from both boys, stuffing your hands into the pockets of your puffer jacket. You want to signal to Alex to get the hint and leave you alone. You wanted to spend time with Eddie, certainly not Alex. "You have practice anyway, Alex. You couldn't drop me off and get back in time."

"Run along," Eddie says, snickering. "You heard the lady."

Alex glares at Eddie and mutters an expletive at him. Alex saunters away, taking one last chance to look between you and Eddie. Once Alex is gone, Eddie turns to you. "Shall we?"

You nod, following Eddie across the parking lot. The brisk Indiana wind cut through your jacket, sending shivers to your skin. Eddie guided you to his car which wasn't far from where you started near the school. His car was a large, maroon colored van, most certainly bought used, with a white stripe in the middle. Eddie walks over to the passenger side, opening the door quickly. He leans in, swiping objects of the seat.

Eddie backs up, helping you into the van. "Sorry for the mess, I didn't expect a co-pilot today." You smile, glancing at him. You could tell he was nervous by the way his eyes shifted.

You sit down in the passenger seat, taking a look around. In the middle of the two front seats there's a pile of cassette tapes. You lean over, picking two up; Iron Maiden and Metallica. Sometimes, late at night, you wondered what music Eddie might be listening to in his room at the same moment. Now you knew.

Eddie climbs into the van, sticking the key into the ignition.

"Nice music," You say, hoping he didn't ask what songs you liked. You had never listened to Iron Maiden or Metallica but you wanted to come off as cool to Eddie.

Eddie takes the cassettes from you, looking at which ones you picked up. "You like Iron Maiden? And Metallica?"

You nod, folding your hands in your lap. "Yeah."

Eddie raises his eyebrows, glancing at you. "I didn't expect that." Eddie puts the car in reverse, barely looking to make sure there was nobody walking or driving behind him.

"What do you mean?" You ask, cocking your head at him.

Eddie shrugs, "You're just a cheerleader, you know. I definitely didn't expect for you to be in my car ever."

You laugh, "Why not? I'm still a person even though I'm a cheerleader."

Eddie pulls out of the school's parking lot, starting to drive towards the street. "You hang out with Jason and all his friends. They don't like me at all."

You bite your lip. "Jason doesn't speak for all of us."

Eddie coughs, nervous at the sound of you alluding to the fact that you don't find him weird. "Where do you live again?" Eddie asks, before he pulls on to the street. You tell him your address, and he brings the car to a start again.

You sit in silence as Eddie drives. Your body flushes, the reality that you're alone with Eddie starting to settle in. You notice Eddie taking glances at you and clearing his throat. "Which songs from Iron Maiden do you like the most?"

You stomach clenches at the question. "Oh you know. They're all so good, how can you pick just one?" You roll your eyes at your response, and you look out the window.

Eddie laughs, "You're never listened to Iron Maiden before, right?"

You sigh, glancing at Eddie. "No, I just said that to sound cool to you."

Eddie raises his eyebrows again, turning his eyes back to the road. "Why would you need to act cool? You're already the cool one; in fact, you being in my car would get you kicked out of being popular."

You turn towards Eddie now. "Why do you think I care so much about being popular?"

"Don't you?"

You sit back in your seat. "No. It's lonely; you seem to have more genuine friendships with the Hellfire club."

"So you're watching me and my friends?" Eddie says, a smirk playing on his lips.

You are embarrassed at your choice of words and you quickly search your mind for a comeback. "It's kind of hard not to when you stand on a cafeteria table and publicly launch insults at the people I'm sitting at the table with."

Eddie laughs, shaking his head. "That was pretty good, wasn't it? God, I didn't think you'd be like this at all."

"You keep saying that, what do you mean?"

"I just- I don't know. I just always imagined you'd be-" Eddie stumbles over his words, causing you to look over at him. "The truth is I've had like a major crush on you since sophomore year and I always assumed you'd be a certain type of way because you're a cheerleader but you're..."

Your heart thumped at Eddie's confession but you tried to play it off. "But I'm kinda nice, right? You out of all people shouldn't judge how another may be."

Eddie glances at you, "Fair enough."

"So you've had a crush on me?"

Eddie nervously laughs, "I was hoping you wouldn't come back to that."

You cross one leg under your other, turning towards Eddie. "How could I? That's quite the confession."

"I shouldn't have said anything."

You shake your head, glad to finally get this secret off your chest. "I'm glad you did because the crush is reciprocal."

Eddie jams on the breaks, sending you forward until the seatbelt caught you. He turns towards you, cars honking behind him. "Really?"

You look in the side mirrors, watching cars dodge around you. You flinch watching a car almost slam into the back of Eddie's van. "Eddie you should probably drive," you say, afraid of what will happen if his car continues to sit in the middle of the road.

Eddie listens to you, pressing the gas. He turns the car onto your street, leaning forward to look for your house number on the mailbox. "It's the white one," You say.

Eddie parks the car in front of your house. "You really like me too?"

You smile at him, sad that your social status makes it seem impossible for you to be with Eddie. "Yes," you say simply.

Eddie's nervousness appears again, his words beginning to jumble and his voice high-pitched. "I-I, wow that's cool, I mean."

You laugh, opening the car door. You lean over, deciding to be bold, and you place a kiss on his cheek. You inhale, embracing the strong cologne he has on. You pull away, moving to grab your backpack and hop out of the car. "Thanks for the ride, Eddie."

You look back at him from outside the car. He offers you a small wave, startled by your move. You turn around but then turn back again. "Would you ever want to go out sometime?"

Eddie's jaw slacks, "Y-Yeah, I'd love to."

You smile, glad that he agreed to go out with you. You drop your backpack on the ground, pulling a sheet of of notebook paper out and finding a pen at the bottom of your bag. You write your home's phone number on the paper and hand it to Eddie. "Call me sometime." Eddie folds the piece of paper, putting it into his jacket.

You turn around, leaving Eddie behind you. You feel his eyes trailing you and you smile to yourself, proud of your boldness.

#eddie munson #stranger things x you #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things x reader #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #Eddie munson x reader #eddie munson stranger things #Eddie Munson

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astrum-aetherium · 10 months

Text

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ astrum's the secret history & henry winter thirst masterlist ⋆｡°✩

hi, all! because we are slowly but surely approaching the 200 posts mark and this blog hasn't even been up for a full month, i've decided to provide all those who are new to my page a handy tool to facilitate orientation. when you expand this post, you will be greeted with a summary of all of my original posts and asks regarding the topic of my blog — incessant, tenacious, shameless thirst for the secret history's very own henry marchbanks winter.

admittedly, i am a complete sucker for lists and organizational tools, which is why this will simply be a heavenly experience for me — even more so because i'm currently procrastinating writing my term paper. however, without much further ado — find the list below the cut.

-> IMPORTANT NOTE: due to the link limit on this post, i can no longer expand it to my liking. because i don't want to create a second masterlist (just yet), however, you will find any newer uploads linked in my own reblog of this post (look in the notes).

˚₊· ❥ general — sfw, informative, personal

my opinion on tsh / addressing the problematic aspects of tsh / henry's middle name being 'marchbanks' and a possible explanation / what henry might've whispered to camilla / my opinion on whether or not henry and camilla were in love / my fancast(s) for henry / my favorite books / my opinion on dorian gray as a character (+ parallels with tsh) / comparing henry to marble statues / modern media henry would be into / elaboration on camilla macaulay / will i be writing about other tsh characters? / tips on getting into classical studies / country house daydreams

˚₊· ❥ henry winter nsfw scenarios

general headcanons about henry's sexual preferences / summer thigh riding / car sex / study date sex / mating press position with henry / riding henry / scratching his back during intimacy / bondage with henry / henry being into bdsm / henry's dirty talk part one / henry's dirty talk part two / neck teasing & biting / henry and cnc / dumbification with henry / henry sucking his partner's fingers / sucking henry's fingers / henry & cigarettes after sex / henry physically responding to pleasure / henry being distracted by your moans while studying / henry & the smell of gasoline / henry muffling you due to your volume / relentlessly teasing henry / cockwarming during studying / sex at bunny's funeral / henry calling you 'good girl' / henry and aftercare / giving henry head to cure his headache / size kink with henry / ignoring henry while he gives you head / clit spanking with henry + coming from your clit being spanked / you and henry at the beach / doggy style position with henry / henry with an inexperienced partner / inexperienced henry with an experienced partner / being bratty with dom!henry + being bratty and fighting henry back / henry burning you with his cigarette / shotgunning a cigarette with henry / jacking henry off with pretty nails / henry using his diary for dirty entries in latin

-> own category — sub!henry: general headcanons / ignoring needy sub!henry / sub!henry punishing you back / making sub!henry beg + reaction to his begging / mirror in front of sub!henry / henry still being dominant while subbing

˚₊· ❥ henry winter sfw / mildly nsfw scenarios

henry & hanahaki disease au / henry with a polar opposite partner / henry with a partner similar to judy / spoiling his partner / getting off on spoiling his partner / enemies to lovers with henry / best friends to lovers with henry / academic rivals with henry / henry being soft(er) with his partner / henry during your period / henry's birthday party at francis' country estate / falling asleep on henry whilst reading / owning a locket with henry's face in it

˚₊· ❥ general satiric / amusing scenarios

gay hampden / list of pop culture scenarios flea wants the greek class to go through / henry holding a baby / playing roblox with the greek class / greek class barbenheimer feud / locking the greek class in a room with the percy jackson movies / the greek class' opinions on percy jackson / being locked in a room with henry / henry watching reality shows with you / henry turning up at your house / showing the greek class colleen ballinger's apology video / keeping the greek class in a glass terrarium / forgetting henry in the cereal isle at walgreens / the greek class being actual people (+ bunny shitting headcanon) / bunny possibly being okay (they revoked their statement) / henry writing smut in his diary

˚₊· ❥ henry winter scenarios inspired by songs

taylor swift — last kiss / taylor swift — illicit affairs / dead girl walking part one + part two

˚₊· ❥ bonus: prose and poetry shared by my saturn anon

one — marble / two — divinity / three — dancing in the rain / four — intimacy overseas

#astrum masterlist #astrum asks #the secret history #dark academia #henry winter imagine #henry winter x reader #henry winter thirst #indulgent thoughts #henry winter smut

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mysteryshoptls · 1 month

Text

SSR Sebek Zigvolt - Platinum Jacket Voice Lines

When Summoned: This museum has seen 100 years worth of history... One day, I'm sure that my liege's portrait will also adorn these halls.

Summon Line: I am to be a supporter, I see... No matter the role given to me, once appointed, I shall carry it out to its fullest. I shall do my duty and promote the museum well!

Groooovy!!: There's no telling what may be lurking in these woods, and yet she chatters away with animals without a care in the world...This human must truly be thoughtless.

Home: It's time for the 100th Anniversary celebrations!

Home Idle 1: The Card Soldiers constantly endeavored to fulfill each and every strict demand of the Queen of Hearts. I can see why Deuce admires them.

Home Idle 2: I see him yawning every so often, but surprisingly, he has also been attentively appreciating the art... Is that really Leona-senpai?

Home Idle 3: The men who served the Thorn Fairy strived for 16 years to carry out a task that she had assigned them. That level of loyalty is unparalleled!

Home Idle - Login: I would never neglect my studies, not even in artistic fields. There is never a thing as too much experience for a retainer of Malleus-sama like myself.

Home Idle - Groovy: I can't forgive Ace. He appeared just to make jabs and quickly made his escape soon after. He should learn to listen to people's stories until the very end!

Home Tap 1: Only the Thorn Fairy could be completely surrounded by soldiers and not let slip her dignified composure. She truly was meant to be one of the Great Seven.

Home Tap 2: As one of my lord's bodyguards, I must be capable of wearing such formal attire properly.

Home Tap 3: What did Vil-senpai mean when he compared painting a work of art to applying makeup? I don't see the connection whatsoever...

Home Tap 4: I can really see the texture of the paint and how each specific brushstroke swept across the canvas by coming in person to view these paintings. This is something that cannot be learned just from reading books.

Home Tap 5: You wish to explain this painting to me? There's no need... Is what I would normally say, however why don't I determine whether your commentary is adequate or not instead.

Home Tap - Groovy: What, are you interested in what I've purchased from the gift shop? Allow me to show you! It is a towel with a Thorn Fairy design!

Duo: [SEBEK]: THROW YOUR ALL INTO IT, ACE! [ACE]: Sebek, your voice is way too loud!

Birthday Login Message: ...WAAAH!? WHAT'S WITH YOU, HUMAN!? DON'T SHOUT SO LOUDLY IN MY EAR SO SUDDENLY!! I am, of course, grateful for your birthday wishes. However, I can still hear it perfectly well without you raising your voice as such. ...What? You only sought to imitate me? Heh, that was a rather exaggerated imitation. How amusing.

Requested by Anonymous.

#twisted wonderland #twst #sebek zigvolt #ace trappola #twst sebek #twst ace #twst translation #twst birthday #mention: deuce #mention: leona #mention: malleus #mention: ace #mention: vil

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sytoran · 1 year

Text

𝐓𝐀𝐔𝐍𝐓.

completely and entirely based on 'taunt' by lovejoy.

──── ☕ pairing. wanda maximoff x gn!reader

──── ☕ cont. high school/college!au, gn!reader, angst, hurt no comfort, implied sexual references, homophobia, "best friends", unrequited love, vision's an ass, you deserve better, but i had to do it, wanda's nose-scrunch is a recurring theme, look me in the eyes and tell me i'm wrong for that.

──── ☕ note. my angst brainrot with wanda maximoff. she's kinda-but-not-realy-but-yea homophobic (???) i'm so sorry, for once i capitalize my words but only this time for uniformity

masterlist / AO3

The first time you see Wanda Maximoff, you think she’s taunting you.

She's always asking, "Am I alright?"

As if auspicious or in my pint

She stares at you from across the classroom. Iridescent, mischievous, calculating. You blink slowly. What do you want? Your eyes ask. Hers don’t answer.

I'll find the answer or a good night

Thank God the time is short

The moment ends before your brain can wrap itself around the situation. Those eyes flicker away. You swear you’re hallucinating, but it was the Wanda Maximoff that just stared at you for a moment too long, right?

Popular but in a cool way, dark but humorous, casual but breathtaking — that Wanda Maximoff, right?

And, yes, you always do that one thing

When you wrinkle up the nose bridge

The next time you see Wanda Maximoff, she’s not standing that far away at all. Instead, right up next to you. Almost delving into your personal space.

She’s just curious. That’s all, you tell yourself. It was a coincidence that she sat there, a matter of circumstance.

Her books have crossed that line of boundaries, chair a little too close. Her elbow is merely an inch from yours. It’s really nothing.

You shrug it off, because Wanda hasn’t said a single word to you.

The redhead’s response comes in nothing more than a nose-scrunch.

I'm trying to figure out what that meant

Wrinkling her nose bridge, eyes narrowed in a bitten-back chortle, glimmering with amusement. You follow her line of vision in silent contemplation.

You freeze when you see her fingers tracing the pride sticker on your file.

Fingertips, scratching the already fading sticker. The nose-scrunch doesn’t seem that friendly anymore.

A rainbow becomes a sea of black. A coldness washes over you.

I took it as a taunt

After that incident, the two of you never did speak for nearly five months. High school graduation happened soon after, and then Wanda Maximoff tasted like a distant memory.

Remember way back then in school?

It’s less history, and more present. Truth or dare, college classes.

You never thought you’d see her again, to be honest, but life swung by however it pleased. Apparently, life swung towards inexplicably alluring women.

Of course, Wanda being Wanda, had taken the dare for nearly every single round.

Oh, did anybody ever say no to you? Woah

A drinking challenge, with Steve Rogers, who tapped out three rounds before her. Done.

Did anybody ever say no to you? Woah

A tattoo, from the shitty parlor down the street. Done.

And I don't think I have a clue

The word ‘kiss’ falls from Valkyrie’s lips before you can help it, because it’s Wanda’s turn again and you’re a hopeless fool.

Wanda’s been dared to kiss you.

'Cause, well, did anybody ever say no to you?

‘Levitating’ by Dua Lipa has never felt heavier. The music is ringing in your ears. Cheers turn into wolf-whistles, turn into chants. Your skin prickles.

Oh, did anybody ever say no to you? Woah

You couldn’t say no to her.

Before Wanda can brush off with a charming smile that no, you’re not comfortable with it, or before her eyes can bring up bitter memories from three years ago — you pull her into a kiss.

A hand resting on her annoyingly soft cheek. Your thumb finds the divine urge to run over her flushed cheeks and sharp cheekbones, but restraint pushes you back.

When you break from the kiss, your eyes are unsettled, because why did that feel good? You ignore the hoots from your friends, instead send a slow smile to the flustered mess that was Wanda.

You could taunt her as well.

You're always trying to leave the table

Phone calls, toilet breaks, unstable

Wanda Maximoff is not fine.

She has not been, since she started dating Jarvis. You don’t care, you really don’t.

But when he drops her hand and brushes her off mid-speech, you think you might find the strength in you to break a neck.

I’m fine, Wanda insists. I’m happy, so you can leave me alone. For once. Just ‘cause you’re gay doesn’t mean everyone is, alright?

Swallowing down a lump in your throat, you walk away with defiant eyes and a trembling bottom lip.

Wanda’s a good liar.

And don't you think that we can all tell?

You're insecure, you're insecure

Wanda Maximoff, to you, is shitty diners, and expired bubblegum, and late night car drives to quiet lakes.

Under the prerequisite of friends, that is.

I guess I always do that one thing

When I get too drunk and jump in

You don’t mean it, you really don’t, when your fist flies and happens to knock into Jarvis’ nose on a hot Wednesday night.

He’s just been such a bitch to Wanda, and she’s just your best friend, you know, but there’s a line — there’s a line that you have every right to cross when he forgets her birthday, and she starts crying, and he gets mad.

To figure out what makes your brain tick

You don’t hold yourself back from spitting a snarl of foul words when Jarvis shoves past you. Wanda’s yelling at you, but you’re too tired to care.

Even Tony, so obstinate and so proud, gives you a sympathetic smile.

You’ve never hit a harder rock bottom.

I'm a listener, I'm a listener

When Wanda breaks down into your arms later that night, body wracking with heavy sobs and gasps for air, you listen.

You let her punch your shoulder, then you stroke her back, and whisper sweet nothings into her ear. It was all you’d ever be.

Until she pushed you down onto that rackety bed, meeting your lips along the way. Iridescent, mischievous, miscalculated.

Forget the number for the cab call

As you're dashing out the front door

The next morning is a rush, with Wanda grabbing this after that, saying that she was sorry, and she’d make it up to you. She also calls you a reliable friend, and you want to sink into the depths of darkholds.

She was halfway out the door before you opened your eyes.

You claim to try to dodge the catcalls

Exactly one week later, when you see Jarvis pushing Wanda up against the wall, your heart collapses in on itself.

She was your first love, and you were her little taunt.

Thank God the time is short

Weeks fly by, but it feels strangely quick. You’ve grown numb to the sights of Wanda and her stupidly pretty boyfriend.

And, yes, you always do that one thing

An informal college graduation party, at the same shitty diner with the same shitty pop music.

You don’t really know what you’re doing when you pull a pretty girl into a kiss, after about five minutes of flirting and fifty minutes of alcohol.

'Cause when you throw and drench me under your drink

Cranberry juice stains your white shirt in a few moments. You break away from the kiss, hardly surprised to see Wanda Maximoff with her face redder than her flaming hair, a now-emptied glass about to snap in her hands.

I'm trying to figure out what that means

You can’t feel, not when she was everything to you but you were nothing more than a friend.

“What’s the big issue?” you had drawled, eyes narrowed as you surveyed Wanda with a painfully indifferent expression. “Friends can kiss each other, right?”

The silence is loud.

Wanda’s nose scrunches, a painful imprintment into your godforsaken memory, and a dagger is stabbed into your gut because this time, because you know she's trying not to cry.

Her nose is scrunching, not because she's taunting you, but because she's blinking back tears, and her bottom lip is trembling so much. So, so much.

It’s stupid, the way you’re holding back tears yourself — you want to shout, and scream, because what did you fucking do to deserve the way she treated you.

But you join in with your friends on the cruel laughter, because you don’t know what else to do. Because she was never yours.

The last time you see Wanda Maximoff, you know she’s not taunting you, but you so desperately want to believe she is.

I took it as a taunt

taglist: @natashamaximoff69 @ohsugar-honey-iced-tea @fayhar @bibliophilicbi @screechcat @rowanyaboats @nahnahnahwhat @the-night-owl-blr @matchasrad @wannabe-fic-reader @natsxwife @wandsmxmff @enanna-h @jemilyswhor3 wanna be added to the taglist to see more works like this? leave an ask in my inbox! if by any chance you want to be removed from the taglist, also leave an ask in my inbox.

i was not fine when i wrote this. i'm going through my depressed arc because i'll never be truly accepted by my parents (bawls)

the fancy line breaks are from @u-uwin

masterlist / AO3

#marvel women #marvel #mcu #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda x y/n #wanda maximoff x reader angst #wanda maximoff angst #wanda angst #gender neutral reader #x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff oneshot #wanda maximoff x y/n #gxg #wlw

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squirmhoney · 1 year

Note

hii. can i request a very dark non-con/dub-con modern aemond fic?

they are college classmates and they got a project together. they are not friends and they haven't talk to eachother, but due to the project, they have to met in the library of the university. while they are doing their project (probably philosophy or history) she explains her point of view in like politics or something like that and he disagrees, so they argue a bit about it and he, for some reason, gets hard listening to her. he asks her to stand up and when she does, he kisses her very roughly. she is confused and when she asks him what is going on he ignores her, he rips her tights (she is wearing a skirt) and begins to fuck her without even preparing her, she clearly doesn't understand what is happening but at some point she starts to feel pleasure, yet she is worried because he is fucking her in the table of a public library. at the end, she tells him to don't come inside of her because she isn't on birth control but he does it anyway.

oh also if you could add some size kink? like she is so small and easy for him to manhandle her and it is really hard for her to take his dick lol. just very dark kinky smut. thank you and sorry if i am asking for too much! <3

This Will Hurt

A/N: I’ll need to repent after this. Hahaha. Anyway I loved writing this and I think I followed the idea very well. But this is very dark so please all keep this in mind. Definitely my darkest fic so far. Also sorry for any differences in vocabulary obviously I’m from the UK so university and college are the same thing. Requests are still open. Warnings: Super dark fic. Non con. Dub con. 18+. Full on smut. Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Reader Word count: 1.7k

Anxiety crept into your bones as you scampered off the bus, trying to get to university library as fast as you possibly could. You had completely forgotten about your study session with Aemond, only realising halfway through a few drinks at the pub with your housemates. You were a complete mess after rushing between your flat and back to campus to be able to make it. Not only were you fifteen minutes late for the study session but you barely knew your project partner and this was definitely not the greatest first impression.

When you finally got to the library, you had to quickly run to the bathroom to sort yourself out, before making your way up the library elevator.

It wasn't till you made your way to the very back of the library that you found Aemond. He was situated in a book, carefully reading with his laptop beside him. He didn't bother to glance up when you placed your bag beside him, perching down in the seat and taking out your stuff.

"You're late," Aemond hissed, his eye glaring at you from the side.

Of course the most studious person on your course was going to be so aggravated about you being fifteen minutes late. Gods, why did your lecturer have to pair you up with him?

"Sorry," you muttered, pulling out your laptop and setting up the rest of your stuff.

Within half an hour you were both deep in thought as you begun different parts of your research project. Aemond barely bothered to speak to you and when ever you made a comment he would only make a hum in reply. You found Aemond tediously boring, hoping there would have been more to the quiet mysterious boy in class.

Aemond felt similarly towards you. While he had thought you were fairly attractive, especially in that skin tight skirt that hugged your figure, you were nothing more than that. All beauty and no brains.

His head lifted as he looked over your shoulder and onto your notes. Something peeked his interest as he scoffed turning back to his own notes.

"Something amusing?" You asked, turning to look at him now.

"Your notes they are very… biased," Aemond stated, leaning back in his chair.

"They aren't if they are backed up with sources," you stated, pointing at the clear quotes on your notes.

"I'm sure you could find some sources that would also contradict those statements," he told you, frowning slightly as his tone became abrasive.

"I'm sure you have something you really want to enlighten me with," you mocked, giving him a wicked smirk as you swivelled towards him. "Go on then, enlighten me."

"Well the Cold War isn't just due to American and Soviet aggression," he laughed in exasperation, chest tightening as he glared down at you. "It's due to so many other factors like the Second World War. You can't just rule these facts out. Also, you can't argue it's the mainly due to American's hatred towards communism just because you yourself hate capitalism."

"I never said I hated capitalism," you said, crossing your arms over your chest.

"Well, do you hate capitalism?" Aemond questioned, lips curled into a tight smile.

"I despise it actually," you confirmed, scowling back at him.

"See you base your argument on opinion," Aemond argued, voice growing louder. Luckily enough hardly any one was around definitely not bothering to be in the library this late in the evening. "This is where you will lose marks-"

"I do not base my sole argument on one point," you interrupted, practically shouting at him. "If you had taken a look at all of my notes you would see that it was the basis of my argument. In fact it makes very much sense that the American aggression towards communism and its constant need to colonise the rest of the world was what started the very conflict between the USSR and USA..."

Aemond was entranced as you continued to argue your point, completely thrown off by how you stood up for yourself. Maybe he was wrong about you, there were some intelligence inside that brain of yours. The way you argued your point face growing red and flustered, body tensing as you continued to point back to your notes was turning him on. His trousers felt suddenly tight and constricting as he watched you babble on.

"Aemond?" You raised a brow unsure if he was even listening to you anymore as he stood speechless before you.

He hummed as if he had been listening the whole time.

You rolled your eyes and scoffed loudly about to turn back to your notes.

"Stand up," he barked, standing up himself.

"What?" You stated up at him completely baffled.

"Stand up."

The way he held your stare so intense as his jaw clenched tightly. You found yourself standing obediently.

Your mouth opened slightly to snap back at him but Aemond forcefully shoved his lips onto yours. He yanked your resisting body towards his and practically threw your small frame onto the table. Your hands pushed and punched at him but he was stronger than you as he kept your hold on him.

You twisted your neck away, catching a breath of air as your face turned to the side. "What are you doing?" You protested, clawing at him.

His violet eye was dark and dilated as he looked down at you, bunching your skirt up to your waist. You crawled away from him, throwing the books off the table as you tried to get further away. Aemond dragged you back down by your legs, holding your body down with his weight as his hand made his way between your legs.

"Stop please," you pleaded, fear corsing through your body as tears welled in your eyes. "Aemond, seriously."

Your voice grew louder and with that Aemond was pressing his lips on to yours again. His hand slipped under your top, quickly groping at your tits. He groaned into your mouth tasting you and your tears as you weakly protested.

His hands reached between your thighs ripping at the tights that covered your panties. His fingers breeched your thong and Aemond was glad for such thin material shredding it away to leave him easy access.

"Please, Aemond. Stop," you sobbed, body shaking from terror at what was going on. Your mind clearly fogged as you stopped fighting against him, paralysed to the core at what was about to happen.

Aemond ignored your crying as he pressed sweet kisses along your jaw. His massive body pressed further on to you, leaving your frame crammed between him and the table.

"Shhh now," Aemond hummed into your ear, his mouth greedily sucking on your neck. "This will hurt a bit."

You hadn't realised he had unbuttoned his trousers as you felt his tip nudge at your entrance. You gasped in realisation, twisting away.

"No, no," you repeated, whimpering pathetically.

His hand covered your mouth as he slid his cock down your slit, positioning himself against your entrance. He was surprised at your slight arousal but he knew with his size it would hurt regardless.

"Be quiet," he whispered, looking from side to side at the area around you. “You don’t want someone to catch us now.”

Aemond thrusted himself into you, groaning into your ear as he felt how tight you were around his cock. The size of him felt so painful as he slid in and out of you, making you scream into his hands. But Aemond didn’t let up as he continued at his agonisingly slow pace, savouring the moment.

You feel yourself tensing as he teased your clit, circling it with his thumb. Finally you started to feel pleasure as he hit into your harder your sobs turned into whimpers under his hand. Your wetness started to coat him, making it easy for him to thrust in and out of you. Your pussy clenched around him drawing himself closer to the edge.

“Fuck your so tight around me,” he hissed, pushing his lips onto yours as he removed his hand. His hand now gripped onto your hips and hit into you deeper and harder than before, his thumb not giving up as it rubbed faster against your clit.

A moan escaped your lips, his name falling from your tongue and into his mouth as he kissed you feverishly. As the bundle of nerves built in your stomach, your mind become clouded, not able to even think about fighting against him.

Aemond realised this finally hovering over you to give you space. From his position he was able to carefully watch as the quiet moans and whines fell from your mouth. Your face contoured in pleasure at how full you felt from the size of him, enjoying the pleasure of the pace he had set.

You felt it washing over you suddenly as your pussy clenched around him, your thighs even squeezing around his hips to keep him close. His mouth covered yours once again smothering the loud cry that wrecked your body as you came undone underneath him.

You stared up at him as you came back up from your orgasm, realisation hitting you once again. His pace became sloppy and his tempo changed as he nestled his face into your neck. You panicked trying to push him off of you and Aemond grabbed your wrists to pin you down once again.

“I’m not on any birth control,” You squealed, using your hands to pull yourself away. It really was no problem use as Aemond kept you securely pinned down. “Aemond, you can’t don’t do this.”

Aemond didn’t listen as he coated your walls, masking his own moans into the skin of your neck. He made sure to pump every single bit into you until he knew he was done, holding himself there for a moment. When he pulled out, he watched completely entranced with the cum leaking out of your hole.

Softly he kissed all over your face trying to calm you as he held your trembling body. He fixed your skirt pulling it down, helping you get up from your position.

“I think I should help you get home,” Aemond told you, grabbing all of your stuff together. He held onto it not allowing you to escape. “It would be for the best.”

You nodded obediently, following him out of the library with shaky legs. When you finally looked up from the floor, you noticed Aemond with a proud grin on his face clear as day. The man that had just violated your very being but had made you cum harder than any man had ever before.

Tag List: (Tag list open here)

@ophelialaufey @cl-0-vr @julianaaleticia @azzir11 @dsl1999 @targeryenmoony @brb-readingurfic @aegonsgf @poppyflower-22 @cherryblossomgirl118 @ietssc @lilostif16 @candypurplebutterfly @mandiiblanche @much-adoo-about-smut @valsandoval @jamespotterismydaddy @dragonslutblog @floslove @floswife @schniiipsel @auratiqs @Softyelfdragon @yearninginpages @gaisse-blog @dragonslutsblog

Bold means it wouldn’t let me tag. Check your settings if you want to change this or message me if I’ve spelt your @wrong x

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen imagine

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aloneinthehellfire · 10 months

Text

Chapter One: The Day It Rained Fire

Gates Of Hell Masterlist

Word Count: 4576

Warnings: swearing, mutual bullying (?), mentions of death, blood, violence, gore

[A/N: my sweet baby angel of a project (she calls it and it's gonna be her most gore-driven, terrifying attempt yet), i've been working on this for a little while now and I'm so excited to finally share it with you!! a brand new story, no script to follow, i'm scared.]

The Day It Rained Fire

Steve couldn’t believe it.

One minute he was minding his business, trying to catch up with his rapidly plummeting grades in time for the finals, and the next he was promised detention after ‘cheating’ in class.

The shit-eating grin Tommy gave him was enough to make Steve’s fists curl. He wouldn’t do anything; Steve never threw the first punch.

The boy had caught his attention with a balled up piece of paper. He was going to try and ignore him first, focus on the class. But Tommy started to hiss at him, and Steve knew if he delayed it any longer Tommy would be making a scene.

He made a comment that Steve didn’t hear, making him lean closer. The clock was ticking loudly, students scribbling down their pop quiz answers in silence, their teacher’s head stuffed into a book. His action cost him when Tommy’s hand shot straight up, alerting the eyes of their superior.

‘Harrington’s tryna copy my answers’ was what he had said. And Mr Holloway wasn’t a man you could reason with. He was given a one-way ticket to detention, much to the amusement of a boy he mistook for a friend.

So here he was, cursing the last bell and trudging his way back to Mr Holloway’s classroom, praying it would be over in time for Steve to get Dustin to the arcade. He didn’t know why he became the boy’s personal chauffeur yet part of him enjoyed it. But Jesus, if he was late he’d never hear the end of it.

Pushing open the door, he immediately gains his teacher’s attention, the man nodding to all the empty chairs in front of him. All but one.

“Oh, great.” You roll your eyes, returning your gaze back to your notebook as he sarcastically grins.

“Shoot me now.” Steve grumbles as he slips into his seat, just a desk away from you.

“Quiet, please.” Your warden ordered, his glasses propped on the edge of his nose. “You’ll both be here for an hour. I expect you to complete any outstanding work in this time. If you do not have any, I will task you with some. No talking, no leaving. Anyone not respecting my terms will-”

“Have an extra ten minutes added to our time for every violation, yeah, yeah, I know.” You interrupt, waving your pen in the air. “Can I start this essay now so I can get home before dinner?”

“Always a pleasure, Miss Hopper.” He sighs, returning to his desk and flipping through papers.

You catch Steve staring at you inquisitively, scrunching up your face. “Stop staring.”

He simply raises his hands, reaching into his bag and setting up his desk. As soon as the lid from his pen was popped, he started scribbling down notes from his History guide book.

“Huh.” You sound after a while and he raises his head, frowning.

“What?”

“Nothing.” You say, striking your paper with a period to mark the end of your sentence. “Just didn’t know you could write.”

Biting his tongue, he tries to ignore your irritating nature, focus back on his lined paper.

Neither of you were exactly sure when it had started. The disgusted glances, annoyed groans, petty feuds. You had both been friends in middle school, kind of. In a way, you simply tolerated eachother, friendly smiles when you passed eachother in town, or laughing at eachother’s jokes when you were grouped with mutual friends. It had all been fine.

Then something changed in high school. You both did. And it had brought an unnecessary rivalry between you both, making it near impossible to sit quietly in a room together. You’d roll your eyes anytime he opened his mouth, he’d yawn whenever you were presenting in class. Little by little it got worse, until you were both trying to publicly humiliate eachother. The last time had earned you both a threat for expulsion, and you had quickly decided to step away from one another. From irritation, to sabotage, to avoidance, no one in the school has ever mistook you for friends.

And now, this was the first time in a long time you had ever shared the same space alone. And you were both hating every second.

“Hm.” Steve sounded after a while and you set down your pencil, glancing his direction. “Sorry. Just realised I should’ve knocked.”

“What?” You scrunch your face in confusion and he smirks.

“I mean, you’re in here so much, you must live here, right?”

Your face drops into utter annoyance, ready to reply when Mr Holloway clears his throat.

“What about ‘no talking’ do you not understand?” He asks, voice at a normal volume. He sounded tired, if anything.

“I want a new classroom.” You announce, and he raises his brows.

“We don’t have any other staff to oversee your detention.”

“Then I want my hour to start after his.” You suggest and Mr Holloway removes his glasses, rubbing either side of his nose bridge. The silver band he wore on his left hand glinted against the light.

“Miss-”

“Or, you know what,” You continue, smiling at Steve. “I’m feeling so charitable today, how about I take his hour and add it onto mine.”

“That’s-” Mr Holloway starts, but Steve scoffs.

“Jesus, you are such a child.” He says, folding his arms. “Can’t even spend an hour in silence.”

“Mr Harr-”

“It’s hard to even think in here with all this hairspray I’m suddenly breathing in.” You glare and Steve grits his teeth.

“Yeah? How about you-”

A startling crash echoes through the hallway, silencing the classroom immediately. Standing from his chair, Mr Holloway sends a wide eyed look to his students. He clears his throat and slips the glasses back onto his nose.

“Wait here, please. I’ll be back as soon as I find out what’s going on.” He announces, collecting his keys and leaving the room, the door clicking shut behind him.

Barely a second passes before you’re lunging at the door, trying the doorknob.

“Asshole.” You curse, slumping your shoulders and kicking the door. “Of course he locks us in.”

“How fun.” Steve smirks and you glare at him. “Maybe if you weren’t getting in trouble all the time, you wouldn’t be stuck in here with me.”

“Bite me, Harrington.” You scoff, pushing away from the door.

He wasn’t wrong, though. You were getting in trouble so persistently lately that you were getting closer to ruining your chances for college. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to graduate, you’ll be damned if you never escape this hell hole of a town, but you couldn’t help yourself. You were acting out. No one cared to ask why.

“I mean, if anyone’s gonna know the rules, it’ll be the Chief’s daughter, right?” He retorts and you stop, biting your tongue. “Ooh. I forgot. Daddy issues?”

“Oh my god. Do you ever shut the fuck up?” You groan, spinning around to face him.

Steve doesn’t reply.

“Oh, right. Sorry I forget your hair plugs your ears.” You lean forward, cupping your hands around your mouth like a megaphone. “Do. You. Ever-”

“Jesus, can you just be nice for one in your miserable-”

A loud blood-curdling scream rips into your argument, freezing you both in place.

“What the hell was that?” Steve whispers out, the silence that ensued suddenly all too frightening.

“Probably… probably just some kids, uh, messing around.” You reply, nodding mostly to yourself. Then, as your nerves took over, you started to laugh.

“Why are you laughing right now?” Steve frowns, startled by your reaction.

“The look on your face, I don’t know, it was funny.” You chuckle, feeling your heart beat slowly return to normal. “It’s not the first time someone’s had a screaming fit during detention.”

“Fucking hell.” He breathes, leaning back in his seat. “I see why no one hangs around this place after the last bell.”

“Yep. All that’s left are the stoners, and degenerates.” You quip, leaning against the front desk. “Now, I know you’re not a stoner…”

“Shut it.” Steve clicks his jaw, deciding to just stare out of the window. It had gotten darker outside. Weird, considering you were only just in April. The sun never set this early.

Minutes ticked by, rendering you restless. You were fiddling with your jumper, pulling at loose threads, procrastinating the half-finished essay taunting your eyes. And, after a while, you decided enough was enough.

“Okay, this is ridiculous.” You say, circling the desk and rooting through drawers.

“Did no one teach you patience as a child?” Steve comments, peeling his eyes away from the window to feed his curiosity.

“Did no one tell you that hair can exist without vats of gel?” You retort, pulling open a drawer that jingled with the harsh motion. “Bingo.”

“What?” Steve straightens up, peering over the desk to see you stand, keys dangling from your fingers.

“He always keeps a spare.” You grin, bounding over to the classroom door. This might be the second time you’ve escaped educational imprisonment, and it sure wasn’t going to be the last.

“Really?” Steve holds out his arm, rocking back in his chair. “He’ll be back soon.”

“So?” You shrug, “He always does this. He goes out to investigate something and doesn’t return until the hour’s over.”

“Seriously?”

“Yep. The asshole’s probably sat down right now in the break room with some coffee,” You say, turning the key and slowly turning the door knob. “Thinking that those kids he left in detention are suckers-”

You hadn’t opened it merely an inch before another scream bounces off the walls, more distant than the last.

Steve springs up from his seat this time, knocking over his chair. You jump at his sudden burst, widening your eyes.

“Jesus, calm down.” You look him up and down. “Don’t go ruining that hair, it’s the moneymaker.”

“Where are you going?” He asks as you pocket the keys and take a step forward.

“Gonna go see who’s screaming and give them a peace of my mind.” You say, already outside the classroom.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He warns and you raise a brow.

“Look, you can stay here if you’re scared he’s gonna catch you, but I’m not listening to any more screams for the rest of the hour, okay? It’s probably just Phil and his stoner gang thinking that the school’s empty.”

Steve didn’t look convinced and you laugh. “Oh, stop. Don’t go pretending like you care about me when we both know you’re just worried you’re gonna have to take the blame for my disappearance.”

He almost winces. Take the blame for my disappearance.

Fuck, it shouldn’t have made his heart shatter the way it did. Suddenly he’s back in that bathroom, chipped pieces of a future crashing and burning, a slurred voice stabbing him where it hurt. You’re pretending like everything’s okay. Like we didn’t kill Barb.

You frown at how ill he suddenly looked. Something you’ve pretended not to notice ever since school came back from Christmas break. His jumpy nature anytime a locker slammed shut, the nervous excuses when someone suggests he should throw a pool party. You didn’t care, you shouldn’t. But you still noticed.

“Okay, how about this?” You sigh, shuffling back into the classroom and closing the door with a soft click, leaning against it. “I’ll just see if I can spot Holloway. If I haven’t in the first two minutes, I’ll come straight back and we can pretend like I never left when he eventually returns. Good?”

“Yeah.” Steve says quietly, still frowning as he leans against the front desk, palms flat against the surface either side of him.

“Oh-kay.” You turn back around, ignoring that persistent feeling that told you to stay with him. Why? He hadn’t ever done anything for you.

Slipping out of the door, you start wandering down the halls, peering into empty classrooms. You and Steve seemed to be the only students left, excluding whoever was winding up your teacher by screaming across the school.

You weren’t planning on detention today. The first five times were boring enough. But that changed this morning, before you refused to be in the cabin for one more second and stormed out into the surrounding nature, a bad morning to start off a bad day. Detention ensured you had an excuse to stay away longer.

You were sure two minutes passed by as you glance up at a convenient clock, slumping your shoulders. You did make a promise. And Mr Holloway was nowhere to be seen.

Turning on your heel, you were about to walk back the way you came when you thought you could hear something, a quiet humming sound. Maybe you were right and Holloway was making his coffee right now.

In the mood for a little defiance, you head towards the noise. Anything to keep you from going home.

You round a corner, scanning the space and coming to an abrupt halt. Your stomach drops.

Blood marks the floors, red handprints smeared across the wall. It was a crimson path that dragged down the hallways, bending around the corner out of your sight. Any expectations you had of what this hallway would be like were trapped in shock, your skin feeling like fire as your nerves scream at you to leave.

So you turn around, heart loud enough to beat your eardrums.

But what if someone was hurt?

Shit, you thought, looking back, no. No, it’s not my problem.

And then you started thinking that if you left whoever it was now, you could be the reason they died.

Reluctantly, you walk down the hall, dodging the spill. Maybe this wasn’t blood. Maybe it was a prank, or a simple accidental spill of red juice.

The smell didn’t make it seem less so as you grip your sweater sleeves in your hands, that humming sound getting louder by the second.

And, when you finally turn that corner, you feel the breath being dragged from your lungs.

A girl was led on the floor, eyes staring straight at you, arms splayed either side of her. Blood was splattered all over her face, staining her clothes.

And something was eating her chest, ripping into her body.

Tears flooded your eyes, your hand covering the whimpers threatening your throat, feet slowly backing away. There was an emergency exit behind you, just further down the hall. You could make it.

Her dead eyes were looking straight through you, and you couldn’t do anything for her – all that blood. You couldn’t -There was so much blood.

Your eyes stay glued to the monster, cautious steps taking you backwards, until you could slip back around the corner. You needed to get out of here fast.

Steve, you suddenly think, eyes widening. You needed to get Steve. No matter how much you despised him, no one deserved to end up like that girl. Oh my god. That poor girl. So much blood.

Taking a deep breath, something grabbed your shoulder and you almost scream. Covering your mouth with your hands, you glance at whatever creature has suddenly got you in its grasp and prepare for-

A silver ring shone back at you and you sigh in relief. It was Mr Holloway.

“Thank god.” You whisper shakily, turning around. You can just see your startled reflection in his glasses. “There’s a girl back there and this- this thing it’s… it’s eating her.”

You look up to him with watering eyes, choking on your own words, and frown. Something was wrong.

His hair was matted to his head, a crack in the corner of his glasses. There was something black spilled over his chin, dripping onto his shirt.

“Are you okay?” You ask, instinctively taking a step back.

He doesn’t respond.

“Mr Holloway?”

His wild eyes suddenly darted upwards, staring at you.

Then, he pounces.

He’s snarling as he claws at your jumper, pulling you down to the ground with him. In haste you try and push him off of you, but this man was a lot bigger than you, wrapping his hands around your throat and smashing your head into the cold ground.

Struggling against his weight, he rears his head closer to you.

“Stop!” You try, his tightening grip on your neck releasing the word as a strained whisper.

Before the restraint became too unbearable, you had curled your fingers around the keys in your pocket and plunged the metal into the skin of his hand.

He shrieks in pain, scurrying back and finally releasing you. Your breaths are quick and shallow, mustering up any oxygen to pull yourself away from him.

You manage to stumble onto foot, turning around to see him glaring at you, a dripping line of black oozing from the wound you made. He looked scared for a second, cradling his hand. Remnants of him were fading in and out. Like he was possessed.

And then he growled. Something alien, animalistic.

Everything in the world felt distant when he opens his mouth, your breath hitching in your throat. Pieces fell away from it, four sections opening like a flower and exhibiting his rows of tiny sharp teeth. It wasn’t natural. None of it was natural.

Your body reacted before your brain, back hitting the wall as he stalked towards you. He was backing you into a corner, leaving you little chance of survival. You were going to die. He was going to kill you- your teacher was going to kill you.

Something red catches the corner of your eye and you glance over. With little time left, you throw yourself towards it and tug it from the wall.

You swing the fire extinguisher just in time for it to collide with the side of his head as he lunges at you, a sickening crunch of impact driving you backward into a stumble.

The lights above you are flickering out of control as you find your teacher hunched against the wall, still. You had driven him down, hopefully knocking him unconscious. The uncoordinated lights weren’t helping your assessment, hands still gripping the metal canister in fear.

Finally, a flash of luminescence brightens the scene long enough for you see what you had done, a sob escaping your lips. His arms were limp at his sides, neck rolled to the side. And his head was caved in, blood dripping from his mouth.

You killed him.

A throbbing ache was building in your head, the back of your skull feeling all too hot. Removing a hand from the extinguisher, you delicately pat the surface and wince, feeling the damp collected on your scalp and hair. You were bleeding.

And, just for a second, you were distracted.

A sharp, searing pain strikes your ankle, causing your one-handed grip on your only weapon to falter and it crashes onto the ground with you, slipping from your fingertips. You watch as it rolls away when the thing tugs violently on your leg, pulling you backwards as you scream into the empty hallway.

The floor was sticky, blood covering your clothes and any bare skin. You were sure it was smeared across your cheek as you cry out for help, fingers slipping against the ground as you tried to find some friction.

You knew it was the creature you had seen before, the cause of the blood you were currently being dragged through. You were going to end up like that girl, bloods mixing into the paste of victims ripped apart. Dead, alone. Prey.

Your hands slip against a door frame before it all stopped too suddenly. You weren’t outrunning it, you had to accept that. You curled up, tears streaming down your face as you prepared for the inevitable. It was going to split you apart, have you feel everything. An endless amount of pain for a terrifying ending.

But you didn’t want it to end.

No matter how many times you argued with him, you didn’t want your father to lose another child.

When it made the first brush of contact against your back, you flipped onto your back and drove your leg hard against it, catching sight of the dark bloody keys glinting in the flashing bulbs just outside of the room. You must have accidentally dragged them with you. And now they were your only hope.

With a yell, you slide the metal between your fingers and curl into a fist, spinning around and moving quickly to stab it before it could kill you.

“Woah, woah, woah! Woah, it’s me!”

You barely manage to catch yourself, stumbling back with wide eyes. You were blinking against the blinding pattern of artificial lights, arm still raised.

“It’s me! Steve!”

It all finally came back into focus and you lower your fist, a shaky breath of relief, as you observe the boy in front of you. His hair was a little wild, chest rising heavily as he clutched your lost fire extinguisher in his hands, black blood marking the bottom and rising along the metal in splatters, matching his face.

At his feet lay the creature that attacked you, its mushy face enough to settle that it wasn’t getting back up.

“Shit.” You finally drop the keys, lowering to rest your hands on your knees and catch your breath.

“Are you okay?” Steve asks, but as he looked at you, he already knew the answer.

When you left the classroom, Steve had felt uneasy about the whole ordeal.

From saving Jonathan from the Demogorgon to fighting those demodogs for the kids, he had been on edge for what seemed every day of his life. Any bump in the night, any twig snapping in the forest, it all rushed back to his head in a throbbing blur of reasons he’d never be able to sleep again.

So, when the second scream had rung out and you had gone after it, Steve could only fear the worse.

He had convinced himself it was nothing. That he was just being paranoid.

Then the overhead lights started to flicker, flashes of colourful bulbs and Nancy’s panicked yells replaying in the horror of his mind. Something was wrong. He knew he should always trust his instinct.

And then, one last scream. Your scream.

He dumped everything where it was, taking off out of the classroom in a rush that almost had him barrelling through the wooden door. He didn’t care if you hated him, if he hated you. No one deserved to die. And he couldn’t live with himself if he knew he had left you.

His feet rounded the corner so quickly he almost slipped on the slick floor. He glanced down, heart racing until it burned his throat with bile. Blood.

I’m too late, he thought, dodging a body laying against the wall. It wasn’t you, the build all too different to have him second guess.

He clocked an extinguisher that had rolled into a wall, grabbing it as he sped past. He was seriously missing that bat right about now.

Steve almost missed it, set on getting there fast. But he saw it, a demodog of his nightmares dragging something into an empty classroom.

You.

Not wasting any more time, he lifted the extinguisher and jumped over you, landing just beside the creature biting at your foot. With as much force as he could muster, he drove the dull edge of the metal can down hard, knocking it off of you completely.

As it snarled back at him, pouncing, he met its sharp mouth with the can once again, bludgeoning it over and over until he was certain it stopped moving, faceless head flattened against the shine of the school floors.

Relaxing his shoulders, he moved to check you’re okay, that he really wasn’t too late. Your curled up body on the floor hadn’t relaxed him. Neither did the sudden pain to his leg as a sole makes contact with his shins, surely leaving a bruise as he staggers back.

And then you’re spinning onto your feet, lunging for something in the dark and turning to face him in the light, fist raised, fear in your eyes he hadn’t seen before.

He really wished you had just stayed in that classroom. And you looked like you did too.

“Shit, are you okay?”

You look up at him through knotted brows, blood staining your skin. You looked like hell.

“No.” You exasperate, holding back a sob. “No, I am not okay!”

“Right.” Steve nods. He felt stupid even asking the question in the first place. “Sorry.”

Rather than say something snarky, a retort Steve became accustomed to, you simply place your hands on your head, looking down at the monster dead by his feet.

“What the fuck is going on?” You ask. Your voice was merely a whisper, terror coating your words.

Just as Steve opened his mouth to respond, a growl echoed through the corridors, raising goosebumps along his skin. You look down the hallway you stood out in with a darted gaze, faded silhouettes dancing against the walls.

“We need to get out of here.” Steve moves towards you and holds out his hand, silently begging you to take it.

You look down at it, frowning. You had no idea what was going on, how to even continue after the experience you just had. Every possible fibre of your being just wanted to curl up and hide, to admit defeat. You were terrified. And this boy in front of you was offering his hand like it was normal, face set as if he knew what he was doing. How could he possibly be calm?

“You’re gonna have to trust me on this one.” Steve says, eyes unwavering from yours. In a normal circumstance you would have said no, told him where to shove his trust.

But this wasn’t a normal circumstance.

And in this moment, you trusted him completely.

You shoved your hand into his and he grasped it tightly, pulling you with him into the hallway and letting him guide you out of the school, away from the building echo of snarls behind you. You’ll cringe about the fact you were holding hands with Harrington later, when you were sure you had made it out alive.

You thought it could be over, just a freak accident in the school that would be swiftly taking care of, leaving you with scars but a sound mind knowing it was finished. The emergency exit had other ideas.

Steve throws himself against the exit, pulling you with him onto what you hoped would be safe grass. He lets go of your hand to slam the door shut behind him, backing away and finally releasing that shaky breath building in his chest.

Running a hand through his hair, he turns to you, expecting your confused and scared expression to con him into spilling the truth about the creatures. But your eyes were fixed on the sky, a numb expression instead.

Steve follows your stare, heart plummeting with it.

The atmosphere was dark, pieces of burning sky spiralling down in black ash, red lightning clashing against the charred clouds. One in particular was menacing, like a shadow.

The shadow wasn’t a cloud.

It stretched across the buildings, hauntingly built like a spider, invading the sky with its thick body. It looked like it was glitching, its shape buzzing on its outer corners like it was…

dust.

Chapter Two: Harsh Reality ->

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#stranger things x reader #stranger things #fanfic #steve harrington #stranger things reader insert #steve x reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington series #apocalypse au #st2 #stranger things au

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kaminocasey · 5 months

Text

25 Days of Life Day: Day 2 - Hot Cocoa with Cody

A/N: I've decided to dabble with a Modern!AU bc I've never done that before. So, here is this. I hope it's alright!! Big shout out to @idledreams because this wouldn't be what it was without her! I'm planning on making another part for this. And perhaps a series, POSSIBLY. Either way, very excited for you to read this!

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI; Professor!Cody x College Student!Reader (About to be done with his class). So if that's not for you, I completely understand!

WC: 1.6K

The line in Java Hut’s is incredibly long this morning but it’s not that big of a deal because you have about another hour before you have to be in class to take your history final. And since campus is only a few blocks away, you pull out your book as you stand in line to wait.

Having just started the book last night before bed, you were eager to pick it back up this morning. Unfortunately, you’d forced yourself to put it down and go to sleep so you’d be well rested for your last final of the semester. But since you’ve got the time to kill…

About five minutes into reading, you hear a familiar deep voice in your ear. “Last minute studying for your final?”

You look behind you and see your history professor, Cody. The incredibly hot professor who you’ve been crushing on since the first day of the semester.

“Oh, hi.” You feel yourself go warm in the face and show him your book you’re reading. “No, actually. The Secret History.”

“Good read.” He smiles that heart clenching smile and you nod in agreement. “First time reading it?”

You nod. “Mmhm.”

“You’ll have to let me know what you think.” He smiles down at you and you hope to god that your jaw isn’t on the floor.

“Uh, yeah. I definitely will.” You tell him, trying your best to not freeze up.

You’ve never spoken to him outside of the classroom so this is new to you. And despite how uncool you sound right now, you rather like it. It’s way tamer than the fantasies you have at night of him.

“Next!” The barista breaks you out of the spell his warm brown eyes are holding over you.

“Right.” You chuckle, turning to order.

“Ours are together.” Cody tells her from behind you.

You can feel his warm chest against your back and it takes everything in you to not lean into him. He smells warm like sandalwood and leather.

You look up at him and start to protest but the look he gives you looks final and you nod, murmuring your thanks with burning cheeks as you turn back to the barista.

“A large hot chocolate, please.” You smile.

She smirks, knowingly at you.

“Hot chocolate, huh? Sure. Make it two. Thanks.” He bumps his elbow into your side, teasingly.

As you move out of the line to go wait for your drinks, you find a sofa by the window, noticing the snow coming down. It’s your favorite time of the year and you’d do anything to live somewhere where it looked like this all year round.

“Not a coffee drinker or is it just a seasonal thing?” He rests an arm around the back of the sofa, which also happens to be around you as well.

You’re not complaining.

“No, I’m afraid not. Just a little too bitter for me.” You shrug, pulling your foot up under you, making you accidentally lean a little closer to him.

He doesn’t seem to mind, thankfully.

“Too bitter…” He muses, clearly amused.

You’re trying to figure out what to say to him without sounding like an idiot. He’s probably one of the smartest people you’ve ever met and you’ve found yourself dreading the end of the semester, because that means you’re not going to see him again.

“I’m… going to miss your class.” You tell him, looking from the window back to him.

“I’m going to miss having you in my class.” He smiles, kindly.

“Eh. You’ll have another star pupil next semester.” You shrug, hiding a grin.

He chuckles. “I suppose so…”

Your stomach drops at his words.

“But that’s not why I’m going to miss you.” He leans in, whispering.

You feel your lips part and suddenly his lips are so close to yours when you turn your head, you’re caught off guard by the barista calling out “Cody!”

“Be right back.” He winks and walks back toward the counter.

You try to still your pounding heart before he comes back, to no avail. Does he know the effect he has on people? On you?

Of course he does.

When he sits back down, a little further away than before, he hands you your hot chocolate with a playful look.

“Here’s your warm chocolate milk.” He grins.

His smile sets your insides on fire and you shake your head with a soft laugh.

“You tease but at least it’s better than that bitter bean water you drink.” You shrug, making him laugh boisterously.

It’s probably the best sound you’ve ever heard, you think to yourself while you softly blow into the mug before taking a sip. When you look at him again, his eyes are on your lips and you take a napkin off the coffee table and dab at your lips.

“Do I have something on my face?” Self consciousness creeps in and he gently pulls your hand away from your face.

“No, your face is perfect.” He rushes out, then pauses when he realizes what he said and lets go of your hand. “I’m sorry.”

You shake your head, letting him know it's okay.

Does he feel this spark too?

“Growing up, I lived with my grandparents. I was incredibly close with my grandmother…” You start to tell him. “The first day that the weather turned cold in November, she would keep us home from school. She called it a mental health day and would put on Christmas movies and make a bunch of baked treats and hot chocolate of course. She never drank coffee.”

“Wow. Sounds like she was better than me.” He smiles, teasingly.

“Different instances. She didn’t need the coffee.”

“And I do?”

“To grade a couple hundred papers? Probably.” You shrug with a smirk.

“So, I take it that teaching isn’t in your future.” He sips his hot chocolate, trying to hide a face of distaste.

It’s clear this man survives on coffee.

“I’m sure you could probably get them to spike it with coffee if you ask nicely.” You tease.

“Chocolate coffee does not sound enticing.” He shakes his head, but he glances up at the barista, clearly debating it.

“I think that might be the only way someone could get me to drink coffee.”

“Hold on.” He puts his finger up with a smirk and walks up to the counter where they call out orders and flags down the barista, saying something to her that makes her glance at you with raised eyebrows and he shrugs.

You look at him with narrowed eyes and he throws you a wink, making you feel like the hot chocolate is suddenly burning you from the inside out. You glance at your phone, realizing you have thirty minutes until you have to get to class, and as if he has the same thought process, he glances at his watch and then back at you.

He pulls out his phone, leaning on the counter waiting for the barista to come back and types something out for a moment before putting it back into his pocket.

Your phone chimes, indicating an email and you open it.

Hello World History 401 students,

Out of the goodness of my heart, and in the spirit of the holidays, today’s final will be canceled. Enjoy your break.

-Prof. Cody

Your head whips up so fast, you nearly give yourself whiplash. He just canceled the final… To spend time with you? Your chest clenches just in time for him to come back with two cups of coffee and he hands you one. Yours is significantly lighter than his and you debate which question to ask him first.

“I told her to make it taste the least bit like ‘bitter bean water’ she could.” He grins.

“You canceled the final.”

“I did.”

“Why?”

“I’ve always envied Santa Claus. Giving people what they really want for Christmas.” He shrugs, taking his cup of black coffee, pouring it into the hot chocolate and stirring it.

You watch him take a sip and he sighs with dramatic delight.

“Much better.” He nods.

“Cody. The final.” You can’t even focus on the hot chocolate.

He shrugs. “I’m enjoying our conversation.”

“You can’t just cancel a final-”

“Oh really? Why did I go through eight years of school, if not to be able to make some kids’ day by canceling a final?”

“Cody…”

He sighs your name and the way he does sends your heart into a fit of wild pittering that you’re pretty sure you’re not going to recover from.

“Listen. If you really wanna take the final, here.” He pulls out a small stack of papers out of his briefcase and hands them to you. “But, you’ve already passed in my mind, so I don’t know if it’s even worth the hassle.”

Your eyes skim over the page. “A… B… A…”

He snatches the papers back, shoving them back into his case. “Insufferable.”

“All I hear is that I’m the best student and deserve an A.” You shrug, finally taking a sip of your hot chocolate coffee and then immediately spit it right back out. “This is awful.”

“What?! It’s barely coffee!” His eyes crinkle, hearteningly.

“Nope. Bad.” You shake your head, putting the mug down on the coffee table. “We just ruined a perfectly good cup of hot chocolate.”

“I’ll buy you another.” He offers.

You shake your head. “Not necessary. I have a different idea.”

You stand up and put your coat on, slinging your bag over your shoulder and offering your hand out for him.

“Where are we going?”

“Just trust me.”

He grabs his stuff and takes your hand with a wide grin. “Lead the way.”

TAGS: @twistedstitcher27 @rebel-finn @rexandechosandwich @madameminor @dumfanting @corona-one @tecker @ladykatakuri @brynhildrmimi @the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond @zoeykallus @maulslittlemeowmeow @littlemousedroid @arctrooper69 @rexxdjarin @padawancat97 @hated-by-me @sleepingsun501 @idledreams @redheadgirl @themcuwriter @ashotofspotchka @sunshinesdaydream @crosshairsimp73 @ariadnes-red-thread @rosmariner @heyitsaloy @starstofillmydream @high-ct5555 @echos-girlfriend @sleepywych @nekotaetae @justanothersadperson93 @aconstructofamind @book-of-baba-fett @chopper-base @palliateclaw @501st-rexster @dead-poolz @nahoney22 @where-is-my-mind-tho @jediknightjana @erishimoon @witching3 @queen-of-many-fandoms @wizardofrozz @burningfieldof-clover @rebelsriley

#25 days of life day #25 days of life day 2023 #tcw cody x reader #x reader #Modern!Au

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jeannereames · 2 months

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Hii😄, could you talk about Alexander and hefestion's skills? Whether militarily or diplomatically, I heard that Hephaestion was better at politics, diplomacy and logistics, and that in some ways his and Alexander's skills complemented each other.

I'm always a tad amused when my own research is quoted back to me as a bit of general knowledge. 😂 That's not at all a slam, btw! I'm quite pleased it's escaped out of academia to become part-and-parcel of what people know about Hephaistion. Means I made an impact on rehabbing his career.

But yes, those things are true. I wrote about them first back in 1998, in my dissertation, then published it as part of an academic book chapter in 2010, titled "The Cult of Hephaistion" in Responses to Oliver Stone's Alexander: Film, History, and Cultural Studies, P. Cartledge and F. Greenland, eds. Complete with tables! Follow the link to read it.

I am now, some years later, returning to Hephaistion's career with the current monograph I'm working on. I've altered my opinion about some things (primarily details), and modified my take, but it remains largely the same. I've even convinced a number of my colleagues, so Hephaistion as logistics officer now appears in most summaries about him. Now, if I can just convince them he wasn't either incompetent or the quarrelsome bastard he's often made out to be.

He did have diplomatic assignments too, although he's hardly the only one. Erigyios, Perdikkas, Ptolemy...they were also used for diplomatic purposes. Plutarch (in a long contrast with Krateros) says ATG employed Hephaistion for business with the "barbarians" and Krateros for business with Greeks and Macedonians, because Hephaistion agreed with ATG's "Persianizing" whereas Krateros kept his traditional ways. From Plutarch, that's not necessarily a compliment for Hephaistion. It's also not stated so anywhere else beyond Plutarch. I have some theories I'll be discussing in the book.

IF we can take the disproportionate assignment of logistical/diplomatic assignments as any indicator, it would seem that Hephaistion was more skilled in that realm than in combat command. That isn't to say he was no good at combat command, mind (I've had some read it so, as if "not as good" = "bad" because middle ground apparently isn't permitted).

It also doesn't mean he wasn't a decent fighter. He probably was, as he seems to have been assigned to lead the agema (Royal) unit of the Hypaspists, e.g., the king's personal guard in battle. According to earlier accounts of the origin of this unit, Philip created them to cut across regional divisions, picking the largest men and best fighters. The agema was, if Waldemar Heckel is correct, drawn specifically from the sons of Companions (Hetairoi). That would back up Curtius' description of him as "larger in physique" than Alexander. (That's what the Latin actually says, not simply "taller.") But keep in mind, the best fighters are only occasionally equally good at command. Those are two different skills.

Finally, his choice as Chiliarch may also underscore some of what we've already seen in his assignments. But it's this appointment that leads some scholars to conclude that he rose due to Alexander's favoritism, not actual ability on his part. That, however, seems to me to stem from several (erroneous) assumptions.

IME, competent people surround themselves with other competent people, at least for any length of time. Flatters may be tolerated, but they're not continually advanced. It's dictators who surround themselves with yes-people (and not all of them; they also need competent individuals). Alexander may have been called a "tyrant" by the Greeks, but he wasn't. He was a king. The Greeks/Athenians/Spartans/Others were playing politics. Macedonian kings had to court their courtiers. If Alexander had been manifestly unfair in his appointments, his men would have rebelled against those officers. They rebelled...but not for that reason. They wanted to go home.

For those who regard Alexander (and Philip) as tyrannical, and/or the enemy of (Greek) freedom, and/or megalomaniacs, and lucky rather than competent, then sure. It would follow that ATG would surround himself with asslickers. But if one thinks he was actually good at what he did (which is a different thing from approving of conquest, mind), and a halfway decent politician--then no, it doesn't follow that his top officers were yes-men. Curtius bluntly tells us that Hephaistion was freer than anyone to "upbraid" the king. Doesn't sound like a yes-man to me.

I think Hephaistion was appointed as Chiliarch for two reasons: Alexander trusted him AND he could do the job. Too bad he didn't live long enough for us to see what he might have done with it.

#asks #Hephaistion #Hephaestion #Alexander the Great #Hephaistion's military assignments #Hephaistion's status in the army #chiliarch #Classics #ancient Macedonia #ancient Greece #Plutarch's hit job on Hephaistion

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ryttu3k · 3 months

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I'm curious abut Sascha Vykos. Do you know which novels or splat books would be good to read to learn more about them?

*cracks knuckles*

Number 1 book you need to understand Sascha's background is the Dark Ages Tzimisce clan novel by Myranda Kalis, which has them as the main character (along with their lover, Ilias cel Frumos) and explains why they're... like that. Just a goddamn amazing character study, also completely heartbreaking and singlehandedly made me change my view of them from "haha wtf what an edgelord" to "they're my baby and I'm gonna fight a methuselah for them". Set between 1232 and 1234, if I've managed to maths right.

Also by Myranda and set around a similar time (shortly after the fall of Constantinople) is the Road of Sin book (set around 1205). Sascha (then called Myca) narrates the introduction and first chapter. It does specifically focus on their history with the eponymous Road, but has a lot of interesting character details, along with their relationship with Ilias.

For modern Sascha, there are two. First is the original Clan Novel Saga (set 1999), although in this case, I'm not recommending just the Tzimisce novel, but rather the compiled editions. There's a bunch of Sascha content in the Assamite book as well, since they're quite involved with one of the characters in it, and it also includes extra, exclusive content, including my two favourite chapters - a story by Lucien Soulban (Sascha's creator), and an epilogue by Janet Trautvetter, mostly about Jan Pieterzoon but with Sascha being fairly prominent in it.

Fair warning, CNS was written in 1999 and has. Mm. Edgelordy moments. We do not talk about The Foetus Thing :|

The other, probably most important one is Beckett's Jyhad Diary, which I would recommend for literally anyone interested in VtM in general. Sascha has minor appearances and mentions in a bunch of chapters, but is extremely prominent in the chapter Dreams & Nightmares (also by Myranda Kalis/Sarro). She also wrote the chapter Azhi Dahaka, another must-read relating to Sascha.

The timing for BJD is... less clear, because at least a few of the people involved have said it's set in 2005, but also there's one chapter where an event that explicitly took place around 1999 or 2000 is said to have taken place "sixteen years ago", so. Let's just call that early 21st century.

Most of the rest of the books are chronicles, plus one city book - their origin book, Constantinople by Night (1197, IIRC?) by Lucien Soulban, Philippe Boulle, and Joshua Mosqueira-Asheim. Others, in chronological order by setting, include Bitter Crusade (two chapters, Fiendish Winter and Dying Embers, the latter covering the Fall of Constantinople in 1204), Under the Black Cross (1225), and a whole bunch of the Transylvania Chronicles (Myca/Sascha appears in book 1 in Dark Tides Cresting (1314), in book 2 in Haceldema (covers the Convention of Thorns, 1493), in book 3 in An Angel's Plea (1680, also has the most hilariously thirsty description of Sascha I've ever seen in my life), and in book 4 in The Accounting (1998).)

Seriously. Here's their Transylvania Chronicles 3 character sheet:

They appear in two of the Giovanni Chronicles books, three (1882) and four (same, in a flashback that also has my baby Anatole), in the Nightshade scenario of the Gehenna book (1999), although that's since been retconned out of existence, along with chunks of the Clan Novel Saga, mostly to do with the approaching Gehenna stuff, and in particular Anatole's fate. It's still worth reading just for some fascinating ways the world could end. Finally, they appear in the House of Lies chapter of Nights of Prophecy (1999?).

Aside from those, they also have little appearances and mentions in other books, including letters and notes throughout chapter 7 of the Revised corebook, a rather amusing little reference in chapter 4 of the Victorian Age corebook, a detailed profile and character sheet in Children of the Night although that book pisses me off because it put Beckett, Anatole, and Lucita on the front cover but didn't give us sheets for them!, and the opening letter of the V5 Sabbat book, which you can read here (and then ignore the rest of the book and get the Revised-era Guide to the Sabbat instead).

So yes! They show up a lot, and all through the game's history. The three most important ones to read, I think, are the Dark Ages Tzimisce novel, the combined Clan Novel Saga, and Beckett's Jyhad Diary, then the rest just depending on interest in the era or broader story, since Sascha is less involved in those.

Have fun! They're an absolute hot mess of a character and I adore them!

#vampire the masquerade #vtm #sascha vykos #mx meat crimes

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mikalara-dracula · 1 year

Note

Hi, can I request hc for sharing a bed with Laito like how you did with reiji, please?

🛌🏻 Sharing a bed with Laito—

Warning: 18+ content below; don't read if you're a minor and aren't comfortable with slight NSFW. This is a fictional work and should not be taken seriously.

Caution: Unfortunately, Tumblr has a history of admins quarreling over completing carbon copy asks due to users sending the same request(s) to multiple admins, thus, resulting in unintentional plagiarism. With this, please DO NOT send the same request to multiple blogs as it can cause unintended plagiarism discord to other blogs across Tumblr. The word “plagiarism” stems from the early 17th-century Latin word, “plagiarius,” meaning “kidnapper.” So please, do not send in the same request to multiple blogs and make admins appear to be “kidnapping” other people’s work when it isn’t their intention. If this is to occur with any of my posts, please contact me so we can work something out.

Made with: @liannelara-dracula

Hi there, Anon!

Thank you so much for requesting! I'm sorry this took so long. Hope you enjoy reading it. Feel free to request again anytime. :)

🛌🏻 Oh god, one can only imagine what sharing a bed with Laito’s like.

🛌🏻 I mean, most of his hobbies involve a bed.

🛌🏻 If you by any chance you happen to invite yourself into his bed, he’s more than amused and ready.

🛌🏻 In fact, it’s probably all he’d think about when the night rolls around if you told him during the day.

🛌🏻 Bear in mind tho that sharing a bed with Laito is quite different than you’d expect, especially since he’s alone with you in the privacy in his room.

🛌🏻 We all know he’s a pervert and one expects that he’d only do explicit things in his room or bed with his s/o.

🛌🏻 But realistically, he does a mix of things since he’s with a girl he really likes, he’s not solely focused on only having sex with her.

🛌🏻 So anyways, onto what he does.

🛌🏻 If you tell him that you’re sleeping in his room for the night, he goes all out.

🛌🏻 He dims the lights and has his room prepared for the occasion of you staying over with candlelight.

🛌🏻 Rose petals on his bed and around the bedroom floor, some romantic music in the background, even going down to feed you chocolates himself.

🛌🏻 He's all about making his girl feel special.

🛌🏻 "Laito, you don't have to do all this for me."

🛌🏻 "Nonsense, baby. Whoever is invited to my bed is my guest. It's only natural that they’re treated as such.” He’d smirk.

🛌🏻 Even serves and drinks wine/champagne with you in bed.

🛌🏻 He reads erotic French novels in bed lmao.

🛌🏻 He’d even read them to his s/o, and make them guess what certain lines mean, especially if they’re explicit in nature.

🛌🏻 “Je veux te manger (I want to eat you out). Can you guess what that means, baby?” He’d smirk.

🛌🏻 He’d even encourage you to repeat it with him to work on your pronunciation since he finds a girls struggling to pronounce a word cute.

I🛌🏻 In the end, he’d just end up kissing you as you’re trying to pronounce the phrase.

🛌🏻 He’ll even try to act out a scene from the book, giving you a small scene of drama. And if the scene is sensual/sexual, you best bet he’s going to act it out on you.

🛌🏻 Probably has a mini tv from the 1940s and watches old erotic french movies with you on it. It’s to keep the vintage aesthetic haha.

🛌🏻 And with this, since there’s erotic scenes, he’s definitely going to attempt the moves he sees in the movie on you.

🛌🏻 In the drawer of his nightstand, he keeps sex toys that can be used on him or you.

🛌🏻 Uses silk sheets on his bed because he believes that if he gets intimate, it increases the heat and “passion.” I mean, we all know how hot silk can get when there’s friction.

🛌🏻 Laito usually sleeps naked or in a man-thong that’s probably animal print, it’s either a leopard or tiger pattern.

🛌🏻 He doesn’t wear his hat to bed, but may put it on you since he thinks you look cute in it.

🛌🏻 But if you decide to tease him by taking it off him and wearing it in bed, he can’t contain himself.

🛌🏻 If there’s a spider on the wall, he’s going to start screaming and cling onto you for dear life, telling you to kill it.

🛌🏻 Meanwhile Subaru will tell him to shut up and stop screaming if he’s walking by his room since he thinks Laito’s having sex with his girlfriend. xDD

🛌🏻 Laito loves to talk about dreams he’s had and usually describes them in a sexual way even if they have nothing to do with sex.

🛌🏻 And he’s more than willing to hear out your dreams, especially if they’re sexual.

🛌🏻 He’s an open book, he’ll talk about his sexual escapdes with you, and encourages you to do the same since he likes to tell his lover everything.

🛌🏻 Instead of getting emo at 3am, he gets sexual.

🛌🏻 Sharing a bed with Laito involves roleplay.

🛌🏻 Which is where costumes come in and it's canon that Laito keeps a collection of female costumes... wtf.

🛌🏻 He has a bunch of sexy costumes he wants you to wear and he's dying to have you role play with him.

🛌🏻 He's probably got Christmas themed ones too. @liannelara-dracula and I swear he has a thing for Mrs. Clause lmao.

🛌🏻 If it’s not a sensual night, he has glasses on and is sitting on his bed beside you doing crossword puzzles.

🛌🏻 Gives you massages while talking about each others’ days.

🛌🏻 Might plug in an air diffuser before going to bed, a pine fragrance more specifcally.

🛌🏻 He ALWAYS wants you facing him, NEVER the other way around. He doesn't like it. He wants to see you.

🛌🏻 Likes to pull you into him and wrap an arm around you waist while whispering cute or minorly lewd things into your ears.

🛌🏻 He’s the little spoon all the way and he loves it.

🛌🏻 Likes to be hella close to you and prefers if your limbs are entangled with his.

🛌🏻 Loves to rest his head on your chest if he’s laying on top or next to you.

🛌🏻 He prefers that his lover puts a leg over him which locks him in.

🛌🏻 Gets very cold and snuggles up against you for warmth.

🛌🏻 He does like to grope your boobs, he does it even in his sleep as if it’s second nature to him almost.

🛌🏻 Laito sleep talks—he’s mostly mumbling about things he wants to do to you the next day.

🛌🏻 Takes selfies of him lying down with you in bed because he’s weird like that.

🛌🏻 Talks about making babies with you—like, he’s really interested in this sorta thing and what it entails.

🛌🏻 He likes to hold your hand and will kiss it before going to bed.

🛌🏻 If his lover is good at singing, he’d like it if she sings him to sleep.

🛌🏻 If you go to bed naked, he’s done and will not leave you alone.

🛌🏻 When you’re not spending the night in his bed, he happens to have a special track of recorded moans of you two from a past session, which helps him sleep at night if you’re not around.

🛌🏻 Afterall, Laito is the benefactor that hands out “moaning” tracts to his brothers.

🛌🏻 *cough* Shu in particular *cough*

🛌🏻 (Laito would never hand out the tracts between you and him tho, those are too special to him. He’d never let his brothers have those; it’s practically sacred property).

🛌🏻 Anyways—Laito will even listen to this special “track” of you and him if you’re laying beside him but are too busy to pay attention to him. It’s just a way for him to spend time since you’re occupied elsewhere.

🛌🏻 “I hope you don’t mind, baby, but I recorded us the other day.”

🛌🏻 “You did? Is that what you’re listening to now?” You’d question.

🛌🏻 Laito would smirk. “Of course. This is literally music to my ears.”

🛌🏻 “But why are you listening to that at this hour?”

🛌🏻 “Why, it helps me sleep.” He’d say.

🛌🏻 “But why would you listen to that when I could give you the real thing now?” You’d tease, his eyes widening as you sent his mind into overdrive at the idea.

🛌🏻 “Then I suppose there’s no time to waste.” He’d say, pulling you on top of him, being quick to escalate things, pulling you into a passionate kiss as his hands entangled themselves in your hair.

#diabolik lovers #diabolik lovers headcanons #laito sakamaki #sakamaki laito #diabolik lovers laito #anime #anime requests #anime headcanons #diaboys #dialovers #diahell #diabolik brothers

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onecantsimply · 10 months

Note

Hi there again!

I'm so glad you wrote something from my last request (and you understood where the idea came from, I love you ❤️)

Anyway, I really liked how you made the relationship between Jack and V!Reader look like, so I thought... How about a headcanon or something about how their first meeting looked like? How they became friends (and possibly something more later?), What Does Jack think of the Shadow Gallery? Perhaps there could be some moments where they just spend time together? Reading books, learning each other's history?

Yes, this is just an excuse for me to Ask you to write more with V for vendetta Reader 😅

Take your time

I watched the movie a lot like a few years ago- But I haven’t seen it in a while-

Anyhow, the headcanons will be according to the V for Vendetta Movie.

Warning: Character Death-

• Jack had met you while eavesdropping on your conversation with a government member. Though, it had quickly went down once the conversation had gone to panicked yelling, with your voice staying as calm as ever.

• It had soon went silent after a while before you had called Jack out for eavesdropping. He stepped out of his spot, smiling faintly with interest upon seeing the mask over your face. Your color read as simply intrigued. Intrigued of why he would listen to your conversation.

• Jack really wasn’t interested in your conversation. But rather of what you did to a person of such importance. He questioned you of why you had done so, with you answering of how corrupted the government was. Of how it’d get worse, which was why perhaps you may get the people to rebel in a certain way.

• He found himself somewhat interested. Especially when you had lead him to the top of a building, speaking of the melodies of various instruments. Jack seemed rather confused about it, considering how he didn't hear it. Perhaps you had enhanced hearing?

That thought was shoved out when he had finally heard the music coming from... something. Speakers? Yes, those speakers that others had used for things like government business.

Jack seemed most stunned upon seeing a statue blowing up, and hearing your laughter of glee.

You had then turned to him, asking how the performance. Jack was still stunned, but thought of you as magnificently insane. Your efforts would go as far to blow up a known statue from your distaste of the certain actions of the government.

Jack had then saw you slip away. You... seemed happy. Though, you left him in a web of emotions. Curiosity. Shock. Interest. Amusement. And the bloodlust of wanting to see what your color is when you yourself are torn off the firm hinges that had held you up. Just like that statue.

The next time he met you, it was clear that you two were going to battle one way or another.

The bliss he got from it was unbelievable. You were fast and calculated in your movements, just alike to how he was. You two had different weapons, but seemingly the same mindset for battling.

Eventually, you two had been stopped by the government, which had led to the both of you fleeing from the battle.

It was completely exhilarating.

Fighting you was an absolute bliss, and he wished that he could do it again, even if you had now saw him as an enemy.

However, he never did find you again other than in other situations such as a bomb situation, as well as an increase of protesting people. He knew that you did this. The Guy Fawkes masks on their face was an obvious enough sign.

Though, in a lucky occasion, but on a rainy day, Jack had saw you at the cafe he frequented. You looked to be seated, reading the newspaper while waiting for your order, or waiting for a waiter to take your order.

Jack simply... stared. After a few seconds, you looked towards him. You had then went back to your newspaper after a while. Jack took the table next to yours. He felt such an urge to speak to you, even if you might have seen him as an enemy.

However, your colors said otherwise. You didn't think of him as an enemy, but rather, a neutral acquaintance. It was odd, but Jack was welcome to it.

He then asked if he could join your table. Upon hearing you accept behind your mask, Jack had moved across from you, smiling with content as the rain began to clear.

Before you two could have the chance to speak another word to each other, the waitress had walked over. She took your orders before walking away.

This was his chance. He had immediately taken it, asking why you didn't think of him as an enemy. You never answered that. Perhaps you didn't have one? Though, you did speak of how you didn't mind spending time with him as an acquaintance within the daylight. You were also fine with giving him amusement by clashing with him at night.

One time, Jack had been injured badly, in which you had taken care of him until he had recovered. But within that time, he had bonded with you. He learned of what kind of person you were.

Really... Jack enjoyed you. He enjoyed your every ambition. Your every skill. He enjoyed perhaps almost everything about you, which was why he viewed it as truly unfortunate and rather... saddening when you had passed.

Even when you had died, you had went out with a bang. Jack had watched as the government crumbled down, wishing that he could perhaps see you again in the afterlife, if there was one.

#record of ragnarok #record of ragnarok x reader #jack the ripper #jack the ripper record of ragnarok #jack the ripper x reader #snv jack the ripper #ror jack the ripper

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moxiebustion · 1 month

Text

I'm not even remotely religious in any way, but I am begging people who are going to write about a character going into a monastery/nunnery whatever to please, please, please read some of the Cadfael Chronicles before you cast an entire population of people as fire-and-brimstone, self-mutilating, repressed, fanatical zealots.

For the uninitiated, the Cadfael Chronicles was a long series of medieval-set (specifically set in the 12th century) murder mysteries where the gumshoe role is taken by a monk who is well into middle age, a skilled herbalist and a former soldier and sailor who joined the Order late in his life (which for one, did happen!).

Now, there are some dated things about the writing that bears some examining; Ellis Peters (psued for Edith Pargeter) first started writing then in the late seventies (the last book was published 1994, a year before her death), and while she was a fantastic amateur self-taught scholar (she was so good she got an honorary degree from Birmingham University, having never even been to any higher education than high school) she is writing about the time of the Crusades and the Crusaders who invaded Jerusalem and she doesn't really delve that deep into the implications of her characters being involved in that, even though the characters are portrayed as the good guys, especially the titular one. But it's very possible most of the scholarship she had available for research at the time was all Western perspectives, which, you know, history is written by the winners, etc. She has a writers bias towards her protagonist, so of course he is framed fairly glowingly, though not without flaw.

But whether she had a view on the moral implications of the Crusades or not, the way she wrote medieval Britain and medieval Wales is absolutely textually fascinating because she doesn't flinch away from the fact that yes, Britain at this time was a feudal serfdom with slaves included, and was hard on marginalized people, chock full of patriarchy that did affect the lives of her female characters or that the Church was a big landowner themselves, and there was plenty of political tension and violence due to an ongoing civil war, but nonetheless the town the Chronicles are set in and the monastery where Cadfael lives is portrayed as a community.

Seriously. They don't just pray and whip themselves for 'bad thoughts'. The monks can be funny, snarky, and shy, and ambitious. They can be irreverent - yes, even about God, that thing that they are meant to be the most reverent about. They can have petty rivalries, they can annoy one another, even the Abbot, and not be sent for a backbreaking penance. They aren't thumping on bibles and telling people that if they don't make the cut that they're going to burn in hell.

They care. They take care of the children left in their charge, whether they're rich scions there to get an education or some poor thing left on their doorstep. One monk, in charge of the children, expresses real and genuine concern over a new novice that is having horrific dreams, worried that he has suffered a tremendous hidden trauma (he's right) and they're all concerned about what they can do to help him. A pair of teenagers literally fuck on one of the altars and the reaction from Cadfael is rueful amusement at young people's folly, not disgust or anger. They collect alms for the poor, redistribute everything given to them to help people survive. They crack jokes and show each other kindness and...

... look, I'm not saying that there weren't and still aren't zealots in religion. No religion is really innocent of that. And yeah, those zealots have done some pretty heinous things when they're put in charge - see Witch Burnings, Various Inquisitions, Crusades, Terrorism, etc. But I do wish writers wouldn't write about religious life like everyone who ever entered it was either a complete bag of bible-thumping assholes or just miserable all the time.

For one thing, that's really boring. Religion is a way we can tell stories about the complex reality we live in and the rules we think are important when dealing with other people. To reduce all that potential down to Miserable, Repressed, Self-Harming, Witch Hunting Jerks is intellectually lazy at best.

For another thing, you are losing the opportunity to portray a fundamentally queer experience. I don't mean they were all fucking (although some of the proscriptions that they felt the need to write down would rise your eyebrows - hand holding was apparently banned at one point); I meant that this was a group of people that took themselves out of the amatonormative status quo entirely and dedicated themselves to something that wasn't marriage, children, mercantile endeavors or anything 'normal' like that. That was, at the very least, a queer experience with clear queerplatonic overtones (not to mention, there were FTM trans monks that literally went on to sainthood, chosen gender kept intact).

And also? It just isn't historically accurate. Plenty of men and women actively chose a life outside the norm because they wanted to serve god and the community. They're just a group of people, all living together, making space for one another, all trying to serve people in whatever way they can. These people were less raging witch-burners and more Jedi without the lightsaber.

In the Cadfael books, they have brushes with zealots and they're reviled as bad guys every time. One (in the very first book) more or less fakes a whole-ass vision to manipulate the order to go to Wales and try and acquire a Welsh saint's bones and ends up doing even worse things because he believes he is destined for greatness and will get it by whatever means necessary. The head of the mission (who edges close to zealot territory himself and fully buys into the con for his own benefit) tries to buy the saints relics and causes a massive diplomatic incident as a result of this insult that makes him look like an idiot.

The other zealot that gives them trouble is a priest appointed to run the church. This man is as big a bible thumping, hellfire and brimstone dickhead as you might always picture a medieval priest to be and he is uniformly despised by both the monks and the township at large because his zealotry and strict adherence to only the letter of religious law and nothing else actively harms the community.

He's so hated, in fact, that when he (spoilers) dies, the reactions of all and sundry is mostly just relief that he's gone.

The Catholic Church has a lot of sins that it forgets more than it reckons with, but that doesn't mean that life in a monastery was all hair shirts and self-mortification, every abbot a little dictator. People have lived just fine in small communes for a lot of human history and they didn't all have small-minded tyrants continually cracking the whip. Most of them didn't.

I know it's an easy shaft to mine angst from, shoving people into an oppressive environment that they must either endure or overcome. And yes, the way we write about religion is sometimes a product of working through a complicated and traumatic relationship with it. I'm not trying to say any writer can't or shouldn't write that because your art is always supposed to be about putting parts of yourself out there, about telling the world a story about how you see it; and if you're working through something, if you need to tell a story about the scars that zealotry absolutely have and do leave, go for it, more power to you. That's a story that should and must be told.

But if your character is going into a monastery, try to remember that humans are social creatures. We make friends more than we make enemies. Even under intense tyranny, we make allegiances and form bonds and find ways to make the world were in a little bit more bearable wherever we can. And we tend to show each other compassion and mercy, even when we don't always like each other. It's true today, and it was true then too.

Monastic life was a queer experience that happened right under the noses of the dominant power structures for centuries. I think there's a story or two to be mined from that as well.

#writing #worldbuilding #character building #medieval history #religion #nicolo di genova #the old guard #brother cadfael #ellis peters #queerness #m #monasticism #monastic life

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