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squishmallow36 · 2 years

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Keeper of the Lost Prepositions - Fifty

Word Count: 2.8k

Tw: there's one spot that's a little icky but i don't know how to tag it properly, Fitz's knee

Taglist (lmk if you want to be added/removed!): @stellar-lune @gaslight-gaetkeep-gayboss @kamikothe1and0lny @nyxpixels @florida-fruity-frog @poppinspop @crystallinewalker @uni-seahorse-572 @solreefs @never-mourn-the-good @rusted-phone-calls @when-wax-wings-melt @cotyledon-tomentosa @good-old-fashioned-lover-boy7 @dexter-dizzknees @abubble125 @cherryberrybitch @blossomsxgalorex

On Ao3 or below the cut!

Lovise and I leap to Widgetmoor, and I waste no time before extending my Technopathic senses, looking for any security measures that might be a bit detrimental to what I’m trying to do.

And lo and behold, Tinker’s got this place rigged up to an unbelievable level.

I swear.

“What now?” Lovise asks.

“They’ve got security cameras. That’s going to be so freaking annoying.”

Lovise gives me an understanding thumbs up.

“It might be a while.”

She mutters something. It’s probably, “When is it not?” or something to that effect.

The first camera fortunately hasn’t captured any footage of me today that I’d have to erase, but just in case, I loop a week or so, taking care to make sure it’s going to be a seamless fit.

And hoping that messing with it isn’t going to send an alert through the system and tipping off the Neverseen before I can even do anything useful.

The second camera I find has to be wiped of the last hour’s footage and replaced with near to the same loop as the first camera.

It didn’t get a ton of suspicious footage, but I don’t want to take any chances.

Plus, It takes slightly less time to do it the second time. And the third.

When I sense the fourth, I start muttering to myself about how this is absolute overkill.

I didn’t think Elves had any security systems.

Although it is Tinker, so it really should have been expected.

Lovise hears me, and asks, “What?”

“Nothing,” I reply, more suspiciously than I’d intended. “Just talking to myself.”

“Ah. Carry on.”

Preposition? Not sure. I can’t see how to fix it but ‘on’ is a common preposition.

The fourth camera didn’t see anything, so nothing had to be erased. It’s not a lot of time difference, but it did make it a little faster.

I close my eyes and extend my senses once more to double check that I’ve gotten them all. I think there’s a couple in the back that might be an issue at some point, but for right now, it isn’t necessary.

Nearly an hour and a half after we arrive, Lovise and I can finally get into Widgetmoor without worrying about technological security features.

Well, not quite.

“Lovise, your turn. Gotta pass the Goblin check.”

I’m begging the stars that Tinker hasn’t rigged this place like Slurps and Burps.

My adrenaline levels skyrocket when the clock tower chimes, but I check the time on my Imparter, it is on schedule.

Which would be the perfect time for that sort of thing, but thankfully, it is not, for some wonderful reason.

Lovise comes back after a longer amount of time than I’d expected from her usual searches, to the point where I got worried it was taking too long.

“It’s safe. Just please get the gremlin under control.”

Oh yeah. I forgot about Sprocket.

Chasing him down and figuring out how to contain the beast isn’t as difficult as you’d imagine after dealing with the triplets.

They’re like three gremlins that can talk back.

Sprocket does bite me a little, and I should probably think about asking Elwin to look at it because his sharp little teeth are very destructive, but what’s done is done and that’s not a top priority right now.

I sit down at Tinker’s computer, spinning around in her chair because I need a second to relax before getting focused on something else.

And that something else is hacking into their computer.

I shouldn’t be surprised that it’s got some over the top security features on it, but, honestly, I can’t even find a way to input information, just a monitor turned off and an unresponsive keyboard.

The Fitz Method gets the screen to turn on, and from that I can extrapolate that it needs a DNA signature to open. It’d be nice to know where that sensor is.

I unhook the keyboard from the computer for easier typing to my Imparter, sighing.

I crack my knuckles and say to no one in particular, “Time to fake some DNA.”

I’ve got to get into the registry, because apparently someone thought it was a good idea to leave someone’s entire genetic code in the source code once they knew how to sequence someone’s DNA, which has only been about a thousand years, so I find mine and mess with it a little before translating the long list of nucleotides into a form that the computer can understand.

It’s not a great plan, but it’s the best I’ve got.

Just over two hours later, I think I’ve got the solution, and send it to the computer as such.

Instead of letting me into the system as it should, it says, “Wrong password. Try again or click forgot password to reset it.”

Well if resetting the password would have been a valid solution, why on Earth did you spend two hours trying to hack in there?

Because they probably set it up in a way that can’t change the password because DNA wouldn’t change throughout their lifetime.

Also I don’t know where the reset password button is.

I stare at my work on the absurdly tiny screen of my Imparter, and eventually, something clicks in my head, and it’s not a good puzzle piece clicking into place.

Tinker’s trans. She’s got XY chromosomes. Well, that’s not certain and intersex people exist with different sets of chromosomes, but statistically, XY would be the most likely option, and, honestly, I’m willing to invoke Occam’s razor to prove my point.

That means there should be way less base pairs at the end. Hmm.

But that just feels so inherently wrong.

Oh, threatening them at knifepoint is fine, but this is where you draw the line?

Her being trans didn’t break Fitz’s knee. Their being in the Neverseen contributed. It’s different.

Their being trans contributed to her being in the Neverseen, though.

It just feels icky, okay? I don’t understand it either, alright?

Sending in the new DNA code is more difficult, but it does unlock it. I was honestly hoping it wouldn’t, and I’d just made a typo somewhere else that I didn’t catch.

Their desktop is simple enough to navigate, having a ton of windows still open and all of her passwords on autofill.

I take at least a dozen screenshots of the open windows, not knowing what’s going to be helpful in the long run, and copy them into a google doc I’ve shared with myself for later viewing.

Looking at their deeply unorganized files, I can find some half-finished projects, one of which has several exclamation marks, and a last modified date of earlier today.

I don’t really know a better way to determine what I should do, so I open up the CAD file and rummage around, both to figure out where things are here and to see if she’s started on this specific thing in the real world.

Honestly, I’m not entirely sure what the thing is.

I think I know what it sorta does after a few minutes of studying the thing, but it’s pretty vaguely like a second version of the Lodestar system.

It’s almost hexadecimal in its base construction, unlike the binary-ASCII code of the original.

What I do know is that I’ve got a good name for it if my guess is correct. The light-leaper-inator.

Because Phineas and Ferb has destroyed my brain and it has to be called a something-inator in honor of Doofenshmirtz. He did, after all, give me the idea to work a self-destruct button into the design.

Although mine will be remote so I can monitor the usage from the safety of my own gadgets. And it most certainly won’t be on the bottom of my vending machine army’s feet.

Who says you can’t learn things from TV?

Self-destruct buttons are easier to build than most other things I’ve tackled, so I get it built in CAD and settle in for a few hours of coding, because I know it’s going to be as difficult as it can possibly manage to make itself.

I turn on a Disney playlist to which I’ve been slowly adding for a while just to fill the space, and get comfortable in this chair.

About a half-hour into simultaneous mind-numbingly boring repetition and mind-meltingly difficult logic, I realize that I probably should check on Fitz, although at this point it’s too little too late.

“Lovise, can you text Fitz for me?” I ask.

“Uh…sure...” she replies, uncertain, grabbing the Imparter off the table beside me.

I walk her through the steps of which buttons to press and once she’s onto the screen where she can actually send a message, she shows it to me, just to double check she did it correctly.

“Yep. Now click on the whote bar at the bottom and a keyboard should pop up. Is it the Elvin one?”

“I think so.”

I sneak another glance just in case, and say, “Type in, ‘This is Lovise. Dex says hi and wants to know how you’re doing.”

She mutters about how goblin fingers are terrible for typing and my tiny delicate elfy hands are just trying to make it difficult for her.

“Okay. Now what?”

“Hit the little blue airplane to send it.”

“The what?”

I cannot believe that she doesn’t know what a paper airplane is until I remember that most non-humans refer to airplanes as giant flying human death traps.

I rip out a page of notebook paper and fold it into a low quality paper airplane and throw it in front of her, but because the aerodynamics of an oddly weighted object is hard to calculate, the tip ends up hitting her in the hand.

“That was not necessary.”

It might not have been necessary, but it was certainly worth it.

“It says ‘oh hi lovise,’” she reads to me.

“That’s Fitz,” I explain.

“And now it has a little picture of a disembodied hand giving a thumbs up.”

It takes a second to connect before realizing that Fitz sent a thumbs up emoji.

I also know it’s going to be a nightmare to talk her through finding an emoji when I don’t know where it is in the library.

“If you hold down on that message for a few seconds and let go, a menu should pop up. Hit copy and then go back to the message bar and hold down on the blinking line until a similar menu pops up, and hit paste twice.”

“Okay. I hit send again. Now it says, ‘Elwin here. Let him sleep. I’ll give him back to you in the morning.”

I check the time at Elwin’s comment, and it’s even later than I thought.

Another chime from the clock tower reverberates through the building, and I’ve kind of learned it’s ‘you better get home or someone’s going to think you’re somewhere causing trouble’ o’clock.

It’s worked thus far.

I double save all of the open files and minimize all the windows to feel like I’m closing things when in reality I’m not because I know I’ll never find them again if I do.

When I leap home, it’s not ten seconds before I regret it.

Apparently, Forkle decided it was a good idea to tell Mom about today, and it’s enough to get my blood to start simmering.

“Dexter Alvin Dizznee! What did you think you were doing?”

I can’t hear the Triplets from this distance, but I know them well enough to imagine I hear the ‘Ooh, Dexy’s in trouble’ anyway.

I do my best to explain my slightly insane thinking, while keeping in mind that I have to be extra careful with anything remotely regarding Fitz.

Stars know it’s going to be much more difficult to hide things from Mom than anyone else because she’s near the top of the list of people that know me the best.

That isn’t a recipe for success. I don’t know what would be, but that’s not it.

She takes a breath and I attempt to argue my best point. “Listen, Mom.”

“No, you listen to me, young man.”

I should’ve known that I set myself up for the easiest counter argument ever, and I have to wait another few minutes. I really don't absorb any of it.

“Mom. I’ve literally screenshotted a dozen maybe-helpful pieces of information in the past couple of hours. That’s already more productive than the earlier strategy. Sending them to you as we speak.”

“What if the Neverseen find out what you’re doing?”

I shrug. “I’ll just make up some story about how I’ve had enough with the Black Swan because they’re working with the council that refuses to change except for on a geologic scale.”

She tilts her head. “You’re not the best at hiding things, remember?”

I’m better than you think.

“Yeah, well, I just came up with that story while half of my attention is on this thing,” I reply, waving around my Imparter and stuffing it back into my pocket.

“That doesn’t mean I like it. This whole idea.”

“I’m the logical option here. I’m probably the only one that knows Tinker’s style well enough to imitate it, even if you do find another Technopath to take over.”

She clearly doesn’t like that I’m capable of making a mildly coherent argument.

“Plus, the thing I did today, after hacking into Tinker’s computer because things couldn’t be easy after disabling four security cameras outside, was that I installed basically spy equipment and a self-destruct button in one of their projects. So there’s an opportunity to learn even more.”

“But then they could figure out what you’ve done.”

“So I’ll give them some random story. Maybe Tinker’s had enough of their war crimes and decided that it was time to end their collaboration.”

The reasoning goes around again and again, each time having a new fake story to explain things and another major advantage to this arrangement.

Somewhere around round five, Mom finally gives in to my points, if it is only because she was afraid dinner was going to burn because Dad cannot be trusted with that.

Alchemy is a matter of exact measurements, cooking is...not.

Nothing is in mortal danger, thankfully, and after dinner, I head back to Widgetmoor. Both Mom and Dad try to get me to stay home and not overwork myself, but I’ve already lost most of the day getting into the system, so I don’t exactly have that kind of time to waste.

Before leaping back, though, I run upstairs to grab Fitz’s pre-prototype of a cane and a few notebooks.

I want to work on it so badly words can’t totally describe it, but the Tinker project is taking priority for a few more days, and considering that Elwin won’t let him stand up for at least a little longer, I can refrain from worrying until then.

It doesn’t totally stop me, though, and after some more hours of swearing at the light-leaper-inator and making less progress with each passing hour, I take just a few seconds to roll around using Tinker’s desk chair.

Inspiration hits at the weirdest times, and I realize there’s an even better solution to Fitz’s problem.

He could totally roll around on a chair while Elwin doesn’t want him standing yet.

With a few upgrades, of course. Gotta make it difficult for myself.

First and foremost, he should have a way to put his feet up, both for the Wall-E factor and because I’ve heard that blood flow to a broken bone can actually push it out of place, so keeping it elevated is necessary.

I don’t think his knee is broken, but hey. I’m not a healer.

And if that’s just completely wrong, it’s not my fault.

I’ve still somehow got most of my mental capabilities even after working all day, and I decide that it should be propelled by something other than his other foot.

Just a simple controller and some motors, and then I figure that I should add some sensors so he doesn’t drive over other people by accident.

I’m making the final adjustments and testing the final product when my Imparter buzzes and scares me.

It’s three in the morning and I’ve gotten a text from Fitz. I knew he gets up early, but even he’s not that crazy.

Hey dex i ner upur hrlp

He’s not that reckless with spelling, and I immediately get worried.

I’m awake. What do you need?

Mu knee js killinf ke. Wjat can i take to fiz jt

I send him a list of probably a few too many different painkillers off the top of my head because I don’t know what he can find.

It’s a little over a minute before he replies, Thamk hou.

Why are you awake? I ask, needing answers.

Why wre you aeakr?

Because my sleep schedule’s…you know. See you tomorrow. Try to get some sleep. I don’t need this to become a regular thing.

Olay Elwin. But only it you eo too.

Good night.

Gopd night.

#kotlc #detz #dex dizznee #fitz vacker #kotlc fanfic

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euphoricfilter · 10 months

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About DTIK (sorry that I was late reading your reply), I think it's really good. Not sure about tumblr cuz it's not as convenient as ao3 in terms of searching and filtering fics. I checked your fic on ao3; maybe change your rating though cuz you put general audience with a smut tag😅. One of the good things about ao3 is the hits really, you can see how many people have clicked your fic. I find your TBAH and DTIK really unique because.. really, not many people write about those. 9 tails and 4 arms demon. And I think that many people post their fics on ao3 because you can just go crazy and write bizzare fics and most readers know that, especially with the extra warning if there's below 18 reader. I know I'm all talk cuz I don't reblog fics on tumblr, but I love to leave kudos and bookmarks to good fics on ao3. I'm sorry, reblogging just kinda takes effort (I don't like disorganization with the tags and I like to stay anonymous here); ao3 is kind of just one two clicks away. I hope you still enjoy writing it, because even if it's not on high demand, if you like it, I think you can finish it. I'm sorry if I cross the line. I just really wish you want to continue it

you’re okay my lovely!!

oh yeah, DTIK was the first fic i ever posted on ao3 so the tags and all that are probably wrong because i didn’t know how to use it LMAO

maybe if i ever repost DTIK id keep it on ao3, i guess it did okay on tumblr, but i find that readers on here mostly don’t like super long fics, or i just didn’t brand it right or maybe something else. tumblr is still a mystery i’ve not figured out quite yet

a lot of people said the same things about TBAH and DTIK when they were only 2 fics on this page 🫡 i used to be so happy having exclusively unique fics too :(( that would have been so fun if that had become my trademark as a writer but i guess it wasn’t meant to be

hmm maybe exclusively on ao3 is the way to go then, i used to read most of my fics from ao3 so i’m familiar with how easy the system is, and maybe then lack of interaction on tumblr won’t weigh me down and kinda make me push the series to the side

i’ve talked about this with someone before on here about his disorganized storing fics are. especially because reblogs help a lot, but then it kinda clogs your page up and likes are useless because now i just have fics i like laying in the depths of my liked tab and i doubt they’ll ever see the light of day again 🥲 i think i go through a crisis every other month at this point, wanting to just re-start my whole blog because it feels like a huge mess and i never know how to fix it.

honestly, the only reason i started posting on tumblr was because of the inbox. it felt like having the anon feature gave people like me, who don’t like being perceived a chance to communicate and i thought, if i posted on here then at least some people might come in my inbox and that would be cute and then we can vibe. everything else about this app is kinda shitty

you’re not crossing the line at all!! i think if anything you’ve helped me out!! i truly do love that series more than anything i’ve ever written, it’s just the lack of enthusiasm from other people kinda made me feel like i shouldn’t waste other peoples time by writing it, like why would they wanna see that on their dashboard, you know???

i said in the last ask, but i have part of the first chapter already rewritten, and obviously the rest of the series isn’t gonna be hard to catch up with in terms of rewriting, i’m not changing the plot. just adapting the style slightly

ahhh you know i used to be so excited for people to finally read the ending because i just knew that if people were invested in the series and they read the final chapter they’d be like ???? oh 🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️

thank you for lighting the spark of inspiration for me, and thank you for loving the series 🫂 it means the world to me that you like it and want to know what happens next 💞 i don’t think i’ve abandoned it quite yet and i’m sorry you’ve had to wait so long for any sort of update

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tweedlydumbtweedlydoo · 3 years

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Rumor | JJ Maybank x reader

Requested by anon / Summary: A rumor spreads about you and JJ at a party.

A/N: I changed the rumor that was spread instead of what you requested because this one flowed a little better than the other and I hope that’s okay!! I hope you guys enjoy and anon, thank you for requesting!! x

Tag list is at the end. Let me know if you want to be added xx

Go follow my fic rec blog! ---> @imaginationgonewild0912

**MASTERLIST**

Requests: {OPEN} CLOSED

** Rules for Requesting **

** Who I Write For **

********************************************************************************************NOT MY GIF, CREDIT TO OWNERS

! Warning: cursing, talks of sex, being made fun of.

You didn’t want to come to this party in the first place. You would have been just fine staying at home, alone on this Friday night, but the pogues thought you needed a night out in public. You were usually the quiet one of the group, stayed to yourself and wasn’t as confident and outgoing as the others. They respected that, usually, but tonight wasn’t one of those nights.

“You’ve stayed in all week! It’s summer break and we deserve to go to a party.” JJ argues.

You groan as you follow him and the other pogues into the large beach house, “And i’ve been fine staying at home. It’s been relaxing.”

“You deserve a crazy night every once and a while.” He says, poking your side, which you immediately swat his hand away.

“Your definition of a crazy night is much different from mine.”

He sighs, “If you want to end the night early, come get one of us. Sound like a deal?”

“Sounds like a great deal, I’m ready to end the night early, so lets leave now.” You smile.

JJ rolls his eyes, “come on, pretty girl, time to party like the kooks.” He grabs your hand and pulls you into the house and through the crowd. He doesn’t let go of your hand as he talks to a few people on the way toward the drinks.

Pretty girl was his nickname for you since childhood. You and the pogues practically grew up together, going through middle school and now high school together. You all were great friends, but you were closer to JJ than anyone.

“Drink up,” He hands you a red solo cup that he just filled up from the punch bowl.

You take a whiff of the cup and scrunch your nose up, “Oh my god, JJ what the hell is in this?”

He shrugs, chugging his own, and wincing as the multiple alcohols burn his throat, “Just drink it.”

You’re hesitant, but you tip the cup up, drinking the liquid. It takes everything you have not to gag on the taste.

“Good girl.” He smirks, “now here, drink another. Have fun and don’t get into any trouble?” He hands you another cup.

“You are not leaving me-”

“I have to go say hey to some of the guys!” He calls back, already disappearing into the crowd.

Damn it JJ. You groan. He left you standing alone in this large kitchen. You glance down at the cup in your hands before taking a few sips, a buzz coming along. Maybe this would help you to loosen up and be a little more confident. So, you downed that one and poured you another.

Half an hour later and two more drinks, you’re sitting on the couch with a bunch of kooks, listening to them tell their best sex stories.

“So, y/n.” One of the kook girls smirks, “Are you a virgin?”

You flushed with embarrassment at the intimate question, “I mean-”

“Oh my god,” another perked up, “You and JJ so did it!”

“No we-” You try to defend.

“You aren’t the only girl that’s lost her virginity to JJ Maybank.” The girl laughs, “I’m guessing that’s why you’re still friends? Couldn’t push it more than that?”

“Me and JJ haven’t had sex.” You say.

“Oh.” She frowns, “Well you want to have sex with him don’t you?”

Before you could really answer, the alcohol answered for you, “yeah-” Your eyes went wide, “I mean no!” But it was too late. The girls were already giggling and the rumor was ignited.

“hey everyone, y/n wants to fuck JJ Maybank!” The girl laughs and suddenly the room erupts in laughter.

“As if he would even touch you!”

The room suddenly felt very small and very hot. Everyone was pointing and laughing at you. Your breathing increased and you prayed JJ wasn’t in the room to hear this, but knew you could use him to calm you down.

Tears stung and you jumped up from the couch and pushed your way through the laughing crowd.

“Hey hey-” JJ grabs your arms, “What’s wrong? Why are you crying?” He’d heard the commotion and headed toward the room when he grabbed you as you were leaving.

You pulled your arms from him and run out the door without another word.

“What the hell did you guys say to her?!” JJ stomped to the crowd of kooks, grabbing one of the guys, “huh?! What the fuck did you say?”

The girls laughed, “Oh JJ calm down. We were just messing with her.”

“She just told us the truth.” The other shrugs.

“Which was what?” He lets go of the guy.

“She wants you to have sex with her.” The girl smirks and then all of the kooks erupt in laughter once more.

“As if JJ Maybank would have sex with someone like her!” another girl adds.

“Fuck all of you.” He spits with anger, “She’s fucking amazing. She’s beautiful and sexy and she’s got a lot more going for her than any of you fucking pricks. I hear another one of you make a joke about her, i’ll beat every one of your asses.” And with that he leaves the room in search of you.

“Y/n?!” He calls out as he enters the patio. “Y/n!” He calls out again and his eyes scan the beach. He spots someone sitting near the water and heads toward them.

“y/n?” He asks softly when he hears the sobs.

“Go away.” You sniffle.

“They were being assholes, as usual.” He says coming closer, “They love to get under people’s skin.”

You wipe the tears, “Yeah and this is why I don’t come to these kind of parties.”

He sighs and takes a seat in the sand next to you, “come on...” He gently nudges you, “You’re too pretty to be crying.” He pulls his long sleeve down his arm and uses it to wipe a tear when you look up at him.

“Please don’t tell me you heard what was said.”

The face he makes answers it all. “Yes but-”

“Great!” You quickly stand, “Fucking fantastic.”

“y/n, just wait!” He stands to follow you down the beach, grabbing your arm and turning you around to face him. His hands keep their place on both your arms and he leans in to plant a hard kiss on your lips.

You’re taken back and your eyes are wide as you stand there still as a statue.

He pulls away, “I’m sorry I shouldn’t..” He lets go of your arms, his eyes now wide. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Then we’ll forget all about it.” You wipe your lips, “It was a pity kiss anyways.” You interpret his apology as regret, like he really didn’t want to kiss you and only felt bad for you.

“No-damnit it wasn’t!” He groans, “I’ve wanted to do that for years.” He runs a hand over his hair, taking a deep breath, “Y/n i’ve been in love with you for years.” He drops his hands, “I’ve never known how to tell you because we’re different and I didn’t think you deserved someone like me. I’m not someone you should be with.”

“JJ..”

“You’re perfect.” He laughs a little, “Perfect, and not someone I deserve to be with. I don’t deserve someone as great as you. I mean you’re funny, caring. and you’re really beautiful. Like really really beautiful. and you deserve someone like.. someone who isn’t me.”

You didn’t know if it was the alcohol still in your system, but you took the confident leap and stepped forward toward him. Your hand found his neck and you pulled him down to your lips. “I love you too, JJ.”

Comments, reblogs and likes are always appreciated xx

Obx taglist: @poguestyleskye , @alexa-playafricabytoto , @kaelyn-lobrutto24 , @prejudic3 , @turtlee-says-rawr , @outrbanks , @k-k0129 , @annedub , @rockyyc77 , @ilovejjmaybank , @treestarrrrrrrr , @thedarkqueenofavalon , @write-from-the-heart , @lasnaro , @ircnwitch, @normatural , @kaylinfayezink , @lordsagittarius , @moose-squirrel-asstiel , @thelovelydreamer17 , @chasefreakinstokes , @fanficscuziranout , @diverrdown , @tregua-oca , @junkiemuppettxx , @afterglowsb-tch13 , @hardyxlove , @cinnamon-roll-seth , @copper-boom , @dpaccione , @themaddies-obx , @ocean-breezq

JJ Maybank // Rudy Pankow taglist: @thatweirdblondesword , @saltwatercowb0y , @popcrone818 , @thee-sex , @coni-martina , @pm-my-hubbies , @timotaychalabae , @katiaw2 , @maybebanks , @sataninsatin , @obx-beach , @fangirlvoice , @lolitstiana , @teamnick , @danicarosaline , @losers-club6 , @bananasfromtarget , @rudypankowswife , @fratboystark , @notmcchkn , @obx-beach , @ifilwtmfc , @mk15x , @bibliophilewednesday , @irdkwhatimdoinghere , @maybankbby , @halobaby , @lilsiswinchester , @iccyyyybitch , @http-cherries , @tovvaa

All my works tag list: @blossomreed , @mggstyles , @simonsbluee , @thewolf-and-thesheep , @obxrafejjwhore ( @obxrafejjwhore ), @abbiesthings , @itstaskeen , @reniescarlett

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dizzydancingdreamer · 4 years

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Yellow | Draco Malfoy

Hey lovelies, here’s another Draco. I don’t know why but right now he’s all I have the motivation to write for. I hope you don’t mind!

Description: Y/n and Draco falling in love with the color yellow and each other

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Hufflepuff!Reader

Warnings: It’s a little angsty, a little smutty, very fluffy, and way too long

Word count: 6k

Tags: FLUFF, angst at times, the ending hints at smut

Tag list: @fashionably-crying , @draconisxcaput

Yes, I’m using this gif again, sue me

Yellow. Sunshine, flowers, freshly pressed gold. Everything that’s eternally happy and pure and good.

Yellow. Sickness, potions gone bad, poison. Bile when there’s nothing left to throw up.

Yellow. Kissing, and fighting, and doing. The color of life itself.

The color of the pumpkins growing in Professor Sprout’s greenhouse and of her nails as she writes notes on information long ingrained in her memory.

“Can anyone tell me the name for what is in front of you all right now?” Professor Sprout’s jolly voice rings through the greenhouse and you can’t help but smile as you raise your hand.

Sprout nods at you, a smile on her face too, knowing quite well that you’ll tell her what she wanted to hear and more.

“It’s a cucurbita pepo, also known as a pumpkin. They’re grown during the summer months and then harvested in autumn, just in time for the muggle celebration of Halloween. They are used in cooking quite often however they are rich in tryptophan, which is converted to serotonin upon consumption, which in turn causes fatigue. Thus cucurbita pepo seeds are used in certain forms of the sleeping draught potion. It’s also why we get sleepy after eating pumpkin pie.”

You giggle at the end of your spiel and the sound trickles through the greenhouse and wraps around a certain blonde at the back of the class who is furiously writing down everything you just said. You don’t notice, though, you’re too busy revelling in Sprout’s approving nod. She begins speaking in depth about the facts you shared and you hurry to write them in your journal, the one that you keep specifically for herbology. It’s filled with plants of all kinds, each with detailed notes and sketches that you drew yourself.

When you flip to your page on pumpkins you begin adding notes you don’t have, just a few details here and there. You aren’t gifted in every subject, not like Hermione, but you are proud to admit that you excel in herbology and know that you will keep the notes you have been working on for many years to come. You brush your sunshine nails across the page as Sprout rattles on about the antioxidants and other nutrients found in Pumpkins. Vitamin A, magnesium, potassium. You already have it all written down.

“Those are well done,” you’re startled by a voice emanating from over your shoulder, “no wonder you’re so good at this class. Your notes are amazing.”

You’re shocked to find none other than Draco Malfoy standing behind you, towering over you and peering curiously at the sketches that you made of some pumpkins a few days earlier. You know the Hufflepuffs share this class with the Slytherins but usually your groups don’t mix. As in they never do. It’s well known throughout the school that Slytherins hate Hufflepuffs. A lot. So it’s only natural that you, one of the softest Hufflepuffs in the school, cower slightly in the presence of the prince of the Slytherins.

“Oh, um,” you shuffle closer to the table, putting some space between you and him, “thank you, Draco.”

His eyes widen when you say his name and the entire class goes silent. Even professor Sprout ducks her head, stopping her rambling and busying herself with watering a patch of sunflowers behind her. Regret immediately floods your system and you feel slightly sick. Every eye in the class is on you and him, waiting with bated breath to see what happens next. You almost expect him to slap you by the way everyone is acting. You curl into yourself, pulling your hands into your sleeves. You’re undeniably terrified.

What happens next though astounds everyone, most of all you. Draco doesn’t quite smile but his eyes crinkle at the corners and he reaches his hand out, curling his fingers around your shoulder gently. Your head springs up at the contact, fuzzy and spinning. What is he doing?

“You’re welcome, y/n.”

Your cheeks immediately heat at the sound of your name coming from his lips. Since when does he know who you are?

He lets go of your shoulder and looks around the greenhouse, as if noticing the eyes on the two of you for the first time, “what are you all staring at? Mind your own bloody business.”

And just like that the sound and bustle of the greenhouse returns to normal, if not a little more forced and with a few more whispers than before. He nods at you, your entire face burning this time, and walks back to his spot, falling into conversation with his housemates like nothing had happened.

You run a hand through your hair before returning to your notes, trying to fend off the peppermint scent still clinging to your jumper.

The color of the potion that earns his house ten extra points.

You have never been good at potions class. You can try to blame it on Professor Snape, claim that he has it out for you and is the reason all your potions bubble a puke green and smell of death, but that would just be avoiding the truth. The horrible, disheartening, and cruel truth that is, quite simply, that you are absolute garbage at brewing potions.

Draco, on the other hand, is the best chemist Hogwarts has seen in years it seems. Even better than local witch prodigy Hermione Granger. Again, you could blame it on your professor. You could argue that since Snape was also a Slytherin that he gives special favor to Draco. But that wouldn’t be fair to him.

You pout from your seat in potions class, watching the clock tick too slowly and too quickly at the same time. It’s much too slow given that this is your last class of the day and dinner is calling your name. It is, however, much too quick as you only have forty minutes left to complete the dreaded invisibility potion. In front of you lay the ingredients, taunting you relentlessly. The invisibility potion is among one of the more difficult potions you have to master before the end of year exam and, so far, you’ve had no luck.

“Well done, Mr. Malfoy. This is the fifth time you’ve completed your potion first and without error. ten points,” at the sound of Snape’s voice, and the cheering from Draco’s housemates, your head slumps, “perhaps now in your spare time you could help Miss. y/l/n. She seems to be having,” he clicks his tongue sharply, “difficulty.”

Your head snaps up, turning to face the blonde boy across the room, your cheeks fiery. His blue eyes, in turn, are wide, much like your own. You’re a deer caught in the headlights of the freight train that is Draco Malfoy. You’re frozen at the thought of having to speak to him and of having him answer you. As he starts to get up, textbooks in tow, you finally thaw. You think back to the greenhouse, and his hand on your shoulder, and feel the color draining from your face.

“Professor that isn’t necessary, I can-”

Snape silences you with a flick of his wrist, “you can fail on your own instead of take help when it’s offered?”

You just lower your head, mumbling a “no, sir” and pretending to search your textbook. Your heartbeat skyrockets as the blonde boy joins you. He places his own textbook next to yours, his long fingers skimming the pages. Your eyes are drawn to the rings on his fingers and you want to ask him about them but the two of you aren’t close like that and you don’t want to make it more awkward than it already is. The same peppermint scent floats around you, stronger this time. You swallow tensely, feeling once more the eyes of your peers.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble more into your cauldron than to him, “I know you don’t want to help me. You can just pretend if you want and I’ll figure out this mess myself.”

You stare at the bubbling, black potion and hold back the nausea. It is very much not the sunshine yellow that it’s supposed to be. You sigh and tuck your hair behind your ears. You begin crushing chameleon scales in silence. You can feel his stare on the side of your face, searing into your cheekbone. You do your best to stay focussed but you can barely concentrate under the weight of his gaze. Being this close to the Slytherin boy still makes you nervous. What kind of nervousness, that is though, you aren’t so sure.

You’re startled when he takes the ingredients from your hands, his fingers brushing yours lightly, “I never said I didn’t want to help you.”

You look up at him, meeting his eyes and giving him a soft smile, one that makes his eyes widen and his fingers clench. That’s all it takes for the two of you to begin fixing your botched potion. You work side by side, silently except for when he asks you to hand him some ingredients. It’s hypnotic, watching him take what you ruined and make it all better. You feel almost special for a moment before you shake your head slightly, clearing the silly thought. You don’t notice him watching you from the corner of his eye, his lips slightly turned as he notes how flustered you are.

By the end of the class your potion is it’s proper sunshine yellow again and you feel entirely relieved. Although you can’t help but worry about tomorrow's class and how you’ll have to do it all over again.

As if reading your mind Draco turns to you, his hand on your book preventing you from darting away, “do you want to be partners?”

Oh boy.

The color of the scarf she wraps around him when she finds him asleep in the courtyard.

It’s mid October and the days have already begun getting shorter. The air is crisp and stings your ears as you walk through the courtyard, admiring the changing leaves during your spare period. You’re the only person there, the chill in the air having deterred the other students from crowding the benches and tree stumps. You don’t mind. You needed a little bit of quiet today.

You’ve been a little out of it all week. Some Slytherins had been making your life a little hard, goading you in the hallways and talking loudly about you whenever you were in ear shot. You have no doubt that it’s about Draco helping you in potions. You don’t talk to him outside of class. Merlin, you barely speak to him in class. You just copy his notes and let him guide you through the potions. You definitely don’t deserve the torment but you can’t do anything about it so you’ve just been trying your best to ignore it.

You take a corner, rounding a rather large oak tree before you suddenly halt. You come inches away from a boy slumped against the base of the tree. His eyes are shut and soft snores fall from his gaped mouth. Upon further inspection, that is noting his green and silver jumper and white blonde hair, you realize that it’s Draco. Your pulse picks up as soon as you see him, your eyes taking in the school books scattered around him. He must have been studying, or trying to at least.

Your heart aches for him. You wonder what on earth could have possibly made him exhausted enough to fall asleep in the freezing courtyard. As if on cue, the wind picks up and you ring your hands together to create some heat. You move around him quickly, closing his textbooks and piling them next to his bag. You put the cap on his ink bottle and tuck his quill next to it and the books.

You step away from him. You don’t want him to wake up and have him find you hovering over him. For just a second, though, you admire how peaceful he looks while he’s sleeping. Usually his forehead is creased and his lips pursed. Right now, however, he’s relaxed. He looks his age for once: seventeen and alive. Alive, just asleep. You sigh as you look at the boy, wishing you could wrap your arms around him.

As you go to walk away, you take one last look at his face. Your heart pangs again at his rosy nose and cheeks. His ears are also a bright red, bitten from the cold and definitely painful. You don’t think before you act, you just take the grey and yellow scarf from around your neck and carefully wrap it around his. You make sure it covers his ears and nose, sofly pulling the ends to wrap around his hands as well.

You take one last look at him. You don’t know what comes over you but you lean down and press a soft kiss to his hair. He smells like green apples today and your heart aches more than ever.

The color of the first snitch he caught as captain and the color of her sweater from the front row.

It’s the first quidditch match of the year, Gryffindor versus Slytherin, and you’re more excited than you can say. There have been rumours spreading that Slytherin has a new captain and everyone has been dying to know who. They’ve kept it under wraps, no doubt wanting to stun Gryffindor during the match. The stands around you howl in anticipation, practically vibrating from all the voices speaking at once.

The wind whips around your ears, loud and bone chilling, and you think for a moment to the scarf you left with Draco. You blow in your hands, warming them before wrapping them around your ears. Hogwarts really needs to work on bettering the stands or at least accommodate them for the colder months.

You’re with a few of your friends, each one of you more high on adrenaline than the last. You stand in your bright yellow jumper at the front of the stands, gripping the railing and watching the field for any signs of movement. You’re more excited to see the Slytherin team than anyone else. Perhaps that’s because Draco has been on the team since second year and you now get to stare at him for an entire game, uninterrupted. You shake your head quickly. Where did that come from?

“Y/n, where’s your scarf? It’s freezing out here!” you turn to your best friend, Luna, and give her a small smile, your cheeks red but not from the cold.

Luna has a lion hat on her head and you can’t help but giggle. It’s definitely protecting her from the cold.

“Someone needed it more than I did,” you rub your hands together again.

She smiles at you like she knows you gave it to Draco but that would be impossible. She pulls you into her side, letting you share her body heat again. You speak a little about the upcoming match but ultimately end up doing more teeth chattering than talking. Soon there are trumpets blaring and you can’t stop yourself from leaning against the railing of the bleachers once more, your heart pounding in your chest.

Everyone holds their breath, the only sound throughout the stadium is the howling wind. Your head pounds, not from a headache but from the blood rushing through your body, electrified. You grip the railing right, the cold of the metal stinging your fingertips. The hairs on the back of your neck raise instinctively. They’re so close, you can feel it in your bones.

You blink and the next thing you know the sky is streaked with green, smoke billowing around the players who fly in a tight ‘V’ formation. You squint your eyes, just like every other student and professor around you, trying to make out who is leading the pack. When you catch a glimpse of his white blonde hair your mouth drops. Before you can register what’s happening, you’re cheering like mad. The wind picks up your hair, whipping it around your face as you throw your hands up and scream like you don’t have a care in the world for what anybody else thinks of you. And you don’t, not right now while the boy you think you’re falling for has just been announced as the new Slytherin captain.

Before you know it Luna has joined in, screaming with you, not for the sake of Draco but because you look like you’re having fun for the first time in weeks. She grabs your hand, waving your arms in the air and shouting into the wind. With the two of you screaming together it’s just enough for Draco to hear over the wind. He turns his head, his eyes easily pulling your yellow jumper from the sea of blue around you. He smirks and your heart stops. Before you can even begin to process the glint in his eyes he’s in front of you, hovering over the railing on a broom that looks like it costs more than your life. He’s biting back a cheeky smile.

You let go of Luna’s hand, stepping towards him, “Draco, you made captain!”

You don’t know where you gained the sudden courage to talk to him like you’re friends but right now you don’t care. All you can see is the boy on the broom, smiling at you like you’ve never seen him smile before. The stands around you roar but you can’t hear them. They don’t exist, not right now at least.

“You know it, pumpkin,” your heart stops, you mouth gaping at his casual use of a nickname, and he laughs, a real and absolutely mind melting laugh, “I can’t stay but I got something for you. I noticed you look a little chilly.”

He pulls the green and silver scarf from around his neck, wrapping it around yours but keeping hold of the two ends. The stands fall silent but it doesn’t matter, you still can’t see or hear anything but Draco. He tugs on the ends of the scarf, bringing your face inches away from his own. You almost think he’s going to kiss you for a moment. Oh, what you wouldn’t give for him to kiss you right now. Anything, you would give absolutely anything. Instead, though, he leans down and rubs his nose against yours and you giggle easily.

He lets go of the scarf, flying off to start the game but not before turning around and shouting, “wish me luck, pumpkin!”

You giggle again, your face flushing, “you don’t need luck, Draco!”

He winks and flies to meet his teammates. The game is fast paced and intense. Your eyes stay glued to him the entire time. His nickname wraps around every part of you, his voice echoing in your ears, warming you better than any scarf. You aren’t at all surprised when he catches the golden snitch. No one in the stands cheers louder than you do.

The color of the bruises on his cheekbone and his knuckles and on Zabini’s fucking stomach.

Your back is pressed against the stoney wall of the castle, his chest almost touching yours. You’re backed into the corner, not daring to even breathe. His breath is hot on your face and you cringe backwards, your head cracking against the hard surface behind you.

Blaise Zabini pushes you closer to the wall, if that’s even possible, and you feel like an animal, trapped and frantic, “who do you think you are, puff?”

“I-,” you glance around his head, looking anywhere but his murderous eyes, “what are you talking about?”

That is clearly not the answer he is looking for, practically growling in your face, “what did you do to Malfoy?”

“Nothing!” you cower away from him, your blood turning cold at his accusatory tone.

You squeeze your eyes shut. If he’s going to hit you, you don’t want to see his fists before they land on you. Tears drip down your face relentlessly and you don’t care. They aren’t going to change anything. Blaise Zabini hates you and there is nothing you can do about it. Your mind goes immediately to Draco, something that doesn’t shock you anymore. All you think about these days is him.

Blaise’s breath smells like liquorice and death as he gets up in your face, “stay away from him, y/l/n, or you’ll regret it. I promise you that.”

Just like that, Blaise isn’t touching you anymore. The cold air of the castle wraps around you and you snap your eyes open, watching his retreating form stalk out of the hidden hallway he dragged you into. You sag against the brick behind you, finally letting the full on sobs that you had been holding in rise to the surface. You collapse, sliding down the stone, not caring as it scrapes and rips your shirt as you do so. You curl into a ball, letting all the pain from the last few weeks consume you.

You get lost in the memories. You see Pansy pushing you down the steps outside of the great hall and Crabbe lacing your soup with a puking potion. You hear all the insults and slurs that have been thrown at you ever since Draco complimented you in the greenhouse and it stings. Your chest and throat and wrists burn and you grip your hair in your fists, hoping that if you just tug hard enough then you can make every bad word said to you and every bruise disappear. Of course you can’t, but if you don’t try then you might lose yourself right here, right now. Well, more than you already are that is.

No matter how hard you tug, you can’t stop the cries from spilling out of your mouth. They mask the footsteps pounding towards you. You slam your fists into the marble floor repeatedly, your palms bruising. Your blood rushes through your ears, muffling the sounds of the castle and everyone in them. You hear your name being called but it sounds like whoever is shouting is underwater. Are they shouting, though, or are you just losing your mind? You hear your name again and you scream. You just want the voices to stop. Please, someone make them stop.

Gentle hands grab your fists before you can do any more damage to yourself, pulling you into a chest and wrapping two strong arms around your shoulders, “y/n, what’s going on? What happened?”

Draco’s voice is panicked. That’s the only word for it. He sounds absolutely terrified. His voice soothes you for a moment but soon you’re pushing against his chest, Blaise’s words in your ears again. Your palms collide with his chest as you shove him with all strength you have. It isn’t enough. Of course you aren’t strong enough to knock away a quidditch captain. His green apple scent clings to you, wrapped in his arms, and you cry harder. You clutch his shirt in your hands now, clinging to him for dear life. You cry out his name and his heart shatters.

“Y/n please, pumpkin, tell me what happened,” he kisses your hair hard, like he’s hoping it’ll magically calm you down.

And it does, sort of, but only when he trails kisses down the sides of your face and along your cheekbones as well. His lips are like a gift from the heavens, working quickly and easily to draw your attention from your showdown with Blaise and place it on him, and him alone. Soon your sobs have stopped completely. You’re still crying but you can breathe and that’s more than you would have been able to do on your own. When you finally wrap your arms around his neck he stops, pulling his head back to look into your eyes.

You swallow hard when you see his face, more importantly the tears slowly trailing down his creamy skin, “I’m sorry, Draco, you shouldn’t have to see me this way.”

“Stop,” he shushes and runs his hand up and down your back, trying not to grimace when his fingers slide over the rips in your shirt, “I’m just glad I found you. Now tell me what happened so I can’t beat up whoever made you so upset.”

You want to chuckle, because you know he’s trying to make you feel better, but you can’t, because you also know that when you tell him he’ll probably push you away too. You tug your lip between your teeth, looking over his shoulder and then back at him. You squeeze your eyes shut, you can’t look at him while you say it. You can’t see his face when he drops you.

“I don’t think you want to beat up Blaise, Draco.”

He lets go of you. Of course he lets go of you. Your veins sting as the cold air rushes around you again. You clench your fingers into tight fists, your nails digging into your palms. Your throat aches, like you’ve been poisoned and the antidote is walking away. You open your eyes to Draco at the end of the hall, just about to turn the corner. You do your best to choke back the sobs again but you can’t and even if you could what would be the point? He clearly already thinks you’re pathetic so honestly why bother anymore? You need to just let it all out.

When you do though, cry that is, he stops, his shoulders and back going rigid as he listens. He turns quickly and his eyes widen when he sees you. You take a step back, gripping your shirt, or what’s left of it, and smoothing the material beneath your fingers, doing your best to keep it together. This was the final straw, the last kick to a foundation that has already been crumbling, and you’re just waiting for everything to come caving in now so it can take you with it.

You don’t realise that your eyes are closed until there are hands on your body and you’re forced to open them again, “Draco, what are you doing-”

He smashes his lips against yours, fast and hard and unrelenting. He tastes like peppermint and desperation and, by god, does it breathe a new life into you that you cling to. He pulls your bottom lip between his teeth, biting down exactly where you had. His hands tangle through your hair, tilting your head slightly and tugging. You can feel his rings against your scalp and it’s the epitome of bliss. You have to to grab his cloak to keep from falling over, your entire body clay in his hands. He pulls back, barely so but in any way it’s still too far.

His lips brush yours as he speaks, his fingers massaging your scalp slightly, “I’ll be back, pumpkin, I promise,” he kisses you hard one more time, “but I really need to go beat Zabini into next month now.”

The color of the fireplace they fall asleep beside on Christmas Eve.

Your dorm is dreadfully empty and you feel a little bit alone, even if it’s only for a week or so. Your parents are renovating the house and decided it was best if you spend the holidays in a place that isn’t covered in dust and smells like paint. You know it’s for the best, and that you more than likely would have been miserable, but the Hufflepuff common room just isn’t the same without it’s usual life.

You pull a sweater over your head, grabbing your notebook before heading out to breakfast. The corridors are empty and it’s eerie, the only other faces being the ones held in frames. They smile at you as you pass and you wave politely, hurrying to the great hall.

When you step through the grand doors you finally see some real people, but not many. You see Harry Potter and Ron Weasley at the Gryffindor table and a few familiar faces in the Ravenclaw section, but none you know enough to join. You sigh, tucking your hair behind your ears. This is going to be a long week. As you turn to the Hufflepuff table, however, your eyes skim over a familiar blonde head buried in today’s paper. Your heart races as you switch courses, heading straight to the Slytherin table and trying not to lose your nerve.

You round the table, walking up behind Draco and stopping quietly. Whatever he’s reading has his full attention because he has yet to notice you. You take the moment to play with him a little.

You lean down, resting your head on his shoulder and whispering, “broomstick stocks are up three percent. That’s good I hear.”

Draco drops the paper and you giggle as he turns his face to look at you, the shock mixing with something gentler in his blue eyes. He jumps out of his seat immediately, pulling you into his arms and burying his face in your shoulder. You wrap your arms around his neck, lacing your fingers through his hair and melting into his warmth. The worry you felt walking into the great hall disappears at his touch. You press your face to his neck like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

“Y/n, what are you doing here? I thought you went home,” he mumbles into your shoulder, his lips brushing your sensitive skin.

You hold back the shiver. It takes all your willpower to not tilt your head and give him better access to your sweetest spot. You tighten your hands instinctively, forgetting they’re wrapped in his hair. You don’t mean to tug on the strands, and you almost feel bad about it, but at the noise that leaves his lips you almost do it again. It’s low and primal and, Merlin, you want to hear it again. His arms tighten around you and all the nerves in your body are painfully aware of every place his body meets yours.

And every place you wish it is but it isn’t.

You clear your throat lightly before you speak, clearing the lump but doing nothing to make your words any less breathy, “I could ask you the same thing, don’t your parents usually hold large parties during the holidays?”

His hands find your hips as you talk and the end of your sentence comes out as a mere whisper. You squeeze your eyes tighter, his touch driving you crazy in the middle of the damn dining hall. It’s not even ten yet!

“That’s exactly the reason I stayed,” his voice is strained, his hands squeeze your hips and you barely bite back the moan between your teeth, “however, pumpkin, now I see that it’s a fucking gift from Salazar himself that I did.”

You lift your head from his shoulder and meet his eyes, gasping at the sight. His pupils are blown wide and his lip is between his teeth. His hair is mused from your fingers running through it, pulling it, and it makes you want to do it again and again until he does something other than look at you like that. Like he's a starved lion and you’re his next meal. Or maybe you just want to tug until he does something about it.

He squeezes your hips again, harder than the last time, and this time you can’t hold back your moan. It’s quiet, thank Merlin, but he hears it. It wraps around him, like your scarf, and something in him snaps. Soon he’s dragging you into the hallway and you’re tripping on your feet trying to keep up with him. The few people in the great hall openly stare but, as has become your new norm, you don’t care. All you can think about is Draco and all the possibilities of where he could be taking you.

He drags you to an area of the castle you’ve never been to before: the dungeons. Your blood pumps quickly through your veins and you’re filled with adrenaline, each step feeling more like walking on a cloud than the last. His hand in yours is warm and strong, sure of himself and of you and, most importantly, that you want him. He looks at you over his shoulder, smirking at you in a way that makes you almost push him quicker down the halls. You glance around, noting the empty corridor. What is it people always say?

Fuck it.

You stop abruptly and he looks back at you again, only this time concerned. His expression doesn’t last though, probably because you push him against the wall and pull his lips to yours. You have to stand on your tiptoes to reach his face, your palms splayed against his flushed cheeks as you take your turn in pulling his lip between your teeth. You bite down gently and he moans into your mouth, a deep and masculine sound that makes you want to rip his clothes off right here in the middle of the hall. You press your body against his, needing to feel as much of him as you can get. Of course it isn’t enough. It never is.

He pushes back against you, clearly having enough of his passive position. He flips the two of you, pressing you deliciously into the stone behind you. His hands glide along your hips but, unlike in the great hall, they don’t stop there. No, Draco’s hands find your bare thighs and his fingers wrap around them, the cold metal of the rings biting into your soft flesh. You say a silent prayer to whoever up there was looking out for you enough to sway you to put a skirt on this morning.

His lips are still on yours and, when he all of a sudden lifts you and presses you harder against the wall with his hips, he swallows the moan that rips from your chest, matching it with an equally fierce groan. For the first time all morning he’s exactly where you need him and it’s absolutely breathtaking. You squeeze your legs around him, pulling him as close to you as you can get him. He doesn’t protest, rolling his hips against you and edging your vision with stars.

“Draco, common room. Now,” even as you say it your hands are on his shirt, already working at undoing it.

He wastes no time, rushing down the stairs with you still in his arms, still working on the buttons. He breathlessly murmurs the password before pushing through the door. You grab his face again, hungrily pulling his mouth to yours again as he sets you on a table. His hands find the hem of your jumper, ripping it over your head before tossing it aside. You finish opening the last button quickly, pulling his shirt from his shoulders and dropping it as well. You don’t think twice about letting it hit the ground.

You look back to him and feel breathless, the wild look in his eyes mixing with something so heart wrenchingly soft. His hands smooth up your exposed back, igniting your skin with a fire you’ve never felt before. He leans his face into your neck again, his lips finding where your shoulder and neck meet and pulling your skin between his teeth. The only thing you can think to push past your lips is his name, crying out into the room lit only by some embers in the grand fireplace.

“What do you want, pumpkin. Tell me what you want me to do and I’ll do it.”

You push him back slightly so you can look into his mesmerising eyes, “I want you to make love to me on every surface in this room.”

And he does just that.

Yellow. The color they fell madly in love to.

#draco malfoy #Draco #draco x reader #draco malfoy x reader #draco x hufflepuff!reader #draco malfoy x hufflepuff!reader #draco x y/n #draco malfoy x y/n #draco imagine #draco malfoy imagine #hufflepuff #slytherin #slytherpuff

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saturatedboy · 3 years

Note

How about a fluff Donna oneshot with a gn!reader who’s sicker than a dog

If you’re ok with that ofc

Donna Beneviento x GN!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of sickness and throwing up

Words: 2.6k

You couldn't believe it. You're mind just couldn't process it. Your nose was stuffy with slight snot dripping from it and your eyes were swollen red from earlier crying. Somehow you had gotten yourself so sick to the point it hurt to even talk as your throat was dryer than the Sahara Desert. You had tried earlier to get up from your bed with little effort because of the quick wash of nausea had influenced all your senses to stop. You could feel your stomach turning every now again and decided that it was probably better to lay down in your bed then go rushing to the bathroom in hopes the cartwheels that passed through your digestive system would soon come to a halt.

A sudden cough popped out of your dry mouth as you raised your hand to cover your mouth, the heat of your skin feeling far more hot and sticky than when you were at the Lord's Heisenberg's factory to gather some materials for your lover, Donna Beneviento. After your coughing fit, you had closed your eyes in hopes of rest, but the sudden noise of the door creaking open had made you whine out. "Still in bed?" The voice had teased followed by a chant of laughter. Without moving, you groaned and sighed at the doll who had now floated into your confined room and made her way to hover over your laying down form.

"Angie...please." You croaked out, waving a hand in a 'dismissive' tone for the doll to go away. Once again, the doll had strummed up more laughter from her unknown vocal cords at your terrible state.

"You should hear yourself, it sounds like you're stuffed with saw dust haha!" Angie crackled away, floating down to sit on the other pillow that was at the side of you as she still stared down at your figure. Trying to not laugh at her remark, you had hauled yourself up to cough up a storm into your arm, tears springing to your eyes from the piecing strike of pain that stuck your head. The laughter from the doll came to a stop, now a worried Angie was staring at you.

"I-I'll go get Donna!" She stammered, backing away from you and flying as swift as she could to go find her owner who was most likely brewing tea like she did in the early morning hours. You wanted to call out to her, tell that you didn't need Donna but the warm feeling of something bubbling up in your stomach came back.

Flinging the covers off your body, you had scurried to find the closest bathroom to your room that happened to be next to Donna's anyway. As you were running through the hallways, you had rounded the corner and almost bumped into the jogging figure of Donna. Seeing your face flushed red and the hurried speed of your run, Donna was quick to turn and follow your trail to the bathroom where she was met with your kneeling body leaning over the toilet seat hurling your stomach contents out. She was quick however to attend to your side after rolling her long sleeves up past her elbows. Her hair was already tied back in her usual bun with two strands falling in front of her uncovered face after four months of getting to know you better.

With your vision slightly blurred from your sweaty tears, you leaned back up and tried to grab the toilet paper from beside you to wipe your mouth with, only for the soft clasp of Donna's hand around your wrist to stop you from proceeding. "Don't wipe your mouth with that, I'll go fetch a cloth for you my love." She spoke softly being aware that your senses were higher then usual because of your sickness. You pulled your hand gently out of her grasp to clutch hold of the seat once again as you spilled more sick from your mouth.

"This couldn't get any worse," You said out-loud as you pulled yourself back away from your now mess and leaned against the wall, pulling your legs up to your chest. "Why is it so cold in here?"

"Cold? COLD? Are you mad meat on feet?" Angie screamed out, going crazy over the fact you claimed to be cold when your skin was a tinted red from the world's hottest coal. You pushed your head between your knees, trying to drown out the loud squeals of Angie going off on a rant about you being cold. It was not pleasant to hear as much as you loved to here Angie talk.

Luckily for yourself however, Donna had rushed back into the room holding a bucket by its handle. Seeing you curled up and Angie speaking in a head-splitting tone, she turned to her partner in crime and gently hushed her. Angie at first had crossed her arms till she watched as Donna went to attend your needs. "Ohhhh right, they are sick." She stated plainly as she shrugged her shoulders and went to also aid your needs.

Donna gently took hold of the side of your head and gently pulled you up to face her. Tiny stands of your hair had stuck to your forehead, making her frown slightly. Seeing you in this state wasn't good. How she ever let you get so sick in the first place was a mystery to her. You had been perfectly fine the other day, playing in the snow with Angie and the other puppets but why had you gotten so sick...- "I told you to not go back out there in the storm." Donna disciplined you as she laid your head back to rest against the wall and went to grab the cloth in the bucket. You sighed and nodded weakly, humming in agreement. You couldn't help it though, last night the snow was so fun to play in with your snow boots and cloak made by yours truly, Donna and Angie. You had to go out though last night in the storm, You just had to go make more snow angels and wanted to build the best snow fort. Not to mention you swore you saw a deer running about and had gone to chase it in the forest for a little while before making your way back home in the late hours.

Rinsing the excess water out from the cloth, Donna gently pattered your forehead with the cold water making you sigh in pleasure. The coldness of the cloth against your hot skin had calmed the banging headache that was bashing against your brain. You closed your eyes in content as you felt a small hand brush against yours. "I apologise for shouting earlier," The sudden contact made you unknowingly brush your larger fingers against the doll's hand.

"Its alright, its okay." You spoke out feeling a little more better with some cold on you. Donna had left the cloth sit on your forehead folded as she moved the bucket to the shower and went to flush the toilet. After you had laid there for just a short while, Donna had spoken up again.

"It's time we get you back to bed my little voodoo," She said, clasping her hands in front of her as she picked Angie off the floor next to you. You groaned and lifted your hand back up, wanting to clutch onto Angie. Angie jumped out of Donna's arms and rushed to your side, holding onto your hand and stroking the back of it with her small structured fingers. Donna cooed at the sight, loving the way how Angie acted with you. It did take a while for Donna to convince Angie in the first place to not play her deadly game of 'Hide and Seek' with you but just like Donna did, Angie soon fell in love with everything about you. From your sneezes that you hated to your slightly taller height than Donna- what wasn't there to love about you?

Noticing she was getting of task, as much as she loved seeing you and Angie bond, Donna crouched down to gently, with a tiny bit of a struggle, lift your body off the bathroom floor and hold you in her arms. You were slightly heavy in her arms since Donna always had a frail body but she was persistent to get you back into the bed so she could care for you till and after your sickness left. She was determined to get you back up to full health.

As she walked down the corridors with you in her arms, Angie had placed herself to rest on your chest hearing your heartbeat pump blood around your body. The doll was on the verge of falling asleep, finding safety and comfort being near you. Dona had started to hum a song to fill the silence of the air, enjoying the task of getting to look after you. You normally had always helped her, ever since the first day she had gotten the choice to keep you from Mother Miranda. Now she could finally repay those days back and look after you- she would've either way looked after you but she tended to forget that you knew she loved you. It was a reason why she mostly made you small teddies on a Friday to give to you. Each of them had a name tag that was tied around their necks always held a note from either saying ,'I love you' to 'Forever my voodoo'. It was a sweet gesture to your heart and to show your appreciation for the gifts, you had placed them all on the shelves that were set up around your room.

Donna was relieved to see the sight of your door in sight, she could finally place you down and be at your side until your sickness goes away. Walking through the opened door, she slightly gushed at the sight of her creations up on your shelves. She pulled you closer to her chest as she slowly walked around your bed and leaned down to place up upon the cotton sheets. Pulling her arms out from under your body, she quickly walked towards your wardrobe and swung the door open to take out a folded white sheet of silk to place over your now sleeping body. When she walked back over to you, she unfolded the sheet and placed it over you, tucking the sides under and folding the top of it so it sat just over your chest. Readjusting the also sleeping Angie in your arms, Donna had leaned down and placed a kiss on both of your foreheads, moving more stray hair from your face. She was glad your skin was less hot, it seemed you throwing up had gotten rid of the bad things in your stomach and should make you better for when you wake up. However for now, Donna swiftly left the room to go search for some medicine, hot tea and easy to swallow food for your awakening. She would stick to her word of making you feel better.

You came to your conscience when you felt a hand shake your shoulder. Moaning in annoyance, you opened your heavy eye lids and faced the culprit of waking you from your amazing dream of Donna, Angie an you sitting in a field having a picnic. On other terms however, when your vision was less translucent, you were blushing like you had spotted your crush- or in other words you did spot your lover. "Having a good dream?" She asked, holding a cup with something steaming out from it. You were loss for words, had you been sleep talking the whole time?

"No...no dreams just darkness." You were fast to reply, wanting to get out of the embarrassing situation quickly.

"Surrreee~" Angie sang out, teasing you as she was once again on the pillow at the side of you. You felt her shift about and felt her climb over you, only for her to nestle herself between your arms that folded under your head. You groaned playfully and kissed her head, laughing as she ducked further under the sheet that was placed over you.

"Now now Angie, I'm sure they need to have something to drink before anyone else sleeps." Donna placed the cup down on the night stand that you were facing and helped you sit up so your back was resting against the headboard of your bed and Angie was sat on your lap, singing softly to herself. Donna, once placing her had upon your forehead and checking to see how hot you were, took her hand away and grabbed hold of the cup that she originally had. Blowing on it herself, she took a little sip to make sure that the solution wasn't too hot or too cold for you to drink and then raised the cup to your lips. You tried to take the cup out of her hands but she wasn't having it. "Let me help you, please." She pleaded, raising the cup back again to rest against your lips. You nodded, knowing full well that you couldn't say no to her and parted your lips open. Feeling her pour the solution down your throat had made you blush deeply. Oh how beautiful she was in your eyes, such a Goddess- she was no Lady only a Goddess in your eyes...But she could be your Lady if she would say 'yes' to a future question you had intended to ask her in the further future.

Drinking what you could taste, which was Earl Grey tea, you sighed as you finished drinking it feeling the warmth in your now settled stomach. You felt grateful to have these people and doll in your life. These two were your home, this was your home and you loved every second of it. Watching Donna place the cup back onto the nightstand, she leaned over and kissed your cheek. You whined in annoyance. "I'm not kissing you on the lips until you are fully better," She accused as she smiled softly at your reactions.

"Then at least stay right next to me until I'm better," You claimed back, adjusting the veil on top of Angie's head getting a sudden yelp from her by your sudden actions. Sighing, Donna had nodded and tried to make her way towards a small rocking chair in the corner of the room that sat by the windowsill but was refused by your hand wrapping around her dress quickly. "Stay right next to me...on the bed." You stated, tugging at her dress with a pout. Nodding, Donna had crawled from the your side of the bed to the other, laying down next to you. You picked Angie's sleeping body up and placed her between bot you and Donna. Stretching your arm out after, you managed to reach over to wrap your arm around Donna who watched you with shining eyes.

"You still need to eat," She whispered, using her hand to place your out stretched hand onto her face so she could feel your soft touch.

"I will after our nap. I think your touch is making me feel better." You spoke, stroking her cheek and blowing a kiss at her to get the best reaction of her closing her eyes tightly and blushing. "So adorable," You whispered back to her, enjoying the moment you had with her.

"Sleep," She said back, keeping her eyes closed and keeping a tight grip of your hand on her cheek, not wanting to ever let go. You nodded and moved yourself slightly to get more comfortable. Although your sickness still lingered, you knew you were in good hands and vowed to never ever go out in a snow storm even if you thought you spotted a deer.

"Both of you sleep," Angie groaned as she yawed loudly and moved her hands to grab hold of both yours and Donna's clothing. Both you and Donna laughed in return- laughter was the best medicine after all.

#donna beneviento #angie beneviento #angie the doll #gn!reader #residentevil #resident evil donna #resident evil 8 #house beneviento #x reader #oneshot #resident evil x reader #donna x reader #donna beneviento x reader

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pyrten · 3 years

Text

Post about Tumblr etiquette and basic stuff that I'm trying to make as entertaining and colourful as possible because I have the attention span of a stick and if I saw long paragraphs like this too, i would go " I will scroll ".

Part 2: here you go. it’s very short, i think.

CW! Twitter discourse (indicated, Techno's boundaries being broken. sleepytwt disbanding??, it's short, don't worry).

Hi hi hello to you all coming from Twitter after whatever the fuck happened. Sit down have a drink, take a sip, have a cookie (...cept for chocolate chip, those are mine). It's pretty safe here as long as nobody drags in the cousin we all dislike.

Tags, hashtags, not shopping tags.

We use the tags as a filtering system, basically. Like stuff about:

Tubbo in general? #tubbo .

Stuff about character Tubbo? #c!tubbo / #c!Tubbo .

Stuff about content creator Tubbo? #cc!Tubbo / #cc!tubbo.

etc. etc.

We try to keep positive stuff in the main tags (in general tags), occasionally there will be stuff about Twitter or negativity about them but generally, as far as I've seen, they aren't heavy, or they are but they're pretty solid arguments that aren't like, loud, yelling, or gives off that vibe, I suppose.

#cw!__ / #tw!__ / #neg!__ / #__ crit+ more can be tagged if needed or requested (as in, if the tag isn't already there). Depends on who runs the blog. Whether you need to send in a ask, or just reply to the post, or DM. Up to the person to runs the blog.

-- if there's more I'll add, when I think of them later --

Reblog button my beloved

I'm not : hey I study the algorithm I know shit!

But IG and Twitter runs on likes / retweets. Tumblr runs on reblogs. yeah, yeah, that small button that's like, circular next to the heart.

Looks like recycling, something the government failed to incorporate well. Looks like the recycling symbol doesn't it? yeah it just lacks one arrow and it's not a triangle.

Liking posts? Great that's nice buddy, thank you (not /s)

Reblogging? Mmmmmmm THATS THE SHIT. SEEING THAT IN MY NOTIFS? serotonin. absolutely.

please, it's like the one thing that's keeping this platform afloat and information / works spreading. also it helps spreads the post. Liking doesn't do much, most it does is be a bookmark just so you can look for that post later.

"but I don't want my blog to be flooded with stuff I reblog!" No, no, dude (gender neutral), that's how you get people to follow and find your stuff. You really worried about people being annoyed, can't find what you actually post? Refer to part 1, tags as a filtering system. Make a reference post or whatever, pin it to your profile or make a Carrd, link that stuff. If people are really that lazy to go to the hashtag, doom scrolling works for them.

Filtering, yes great mechanic.

Filtering, now, this isn't for other people to find your stuff and save them time of scrolling. It's somewhat related to the tagging system of Tumblr but it's for yourself this time, very cool.

- Gear icon. Top right corner of your profile.

- Account settings.

- Filtering.

Two options : tag filter and content filter.

Tags filter is self-explanatory. You enter the tag you don't wanna see, and done. You'll never see that tag, or any posts that have that tag again.

Content filter filters posts with certain text content. Certain- as in the text you've entered, and decided you never wanna see em.

Congratulations, your eyes didn't lose HP today.

Bruh when was this posted.

Haven't used Tumblr on a laptop for a while, but I'm pretty sure it says, uh somewhere.

But on phone:

Three dots. Top right of the post.

There it is, like, rightttt there, above that rectangle pop up thing, there's the date. Have fun seeing how dead some blogs are.

My post is getting drowned :(

Uh, reblog your own post or pin it to your own profile. That works.

So does the post drowning and disappearing into oblivion. Tapping a button requires a lot of work and if ya don't want to, shruggie.

Ayo, if you're gonna justify something about someone or any situation, be specific and as clear as you possibly could, if you mess up a little with your argument, that's fine. Edit button is a pencil on the post, you can make another post or reblog the OG post to clarify.

Use tone indicators. There are neurodivergent people on this platform, like, every platform basically. Save us some worrying and head scratching.

Use the tone indicators, and don't use them as a joke (unless it's between like close moots, and your uh following gets it then yeah I suppose that's fine, but clarify in the tags would be great).

Typing out /insert_acronym_here isn't a time consuming thing. ( A simple Google search of Reddit tone indicators can give you a list if you need it ).

Last thing I can really think of is: the hashtags is where all the short hot takes, that good shit, is.

Not just in general, in posts too ;) .

also why are people on Twitter spreading the #kick____ with saying that you shouldn't do that. Your intentions are great m8, but uh, ಠ◡ಠ that's a... It's a method.

k welcome to tumblr. Each app has their like etiquette, this is Tumblr's or the most I can think of. no you can't have my chocolate chip cookies, have a good stay.

I'm going to bed like man, I'm sleepy. (Also since people is coming in because of like, the stuff related to SBI going on twitter, gonna mainly tag that. Hope that's chill)

Also, it's Ramadan. claps, Ramadan Mubarak, have a good one y'all. (whispers hey, hey send some love to fellow Muslims, hope you're doing well.)

Edit:

15/4/2021 , 6.42 PM --- Filtering (new section)

#tumblr etiquette #general #mcyt #technoblade #sleepy bois inc #sbi #cw! twitter discourse #uhhh if ya wanna add in replies yeah thats chill.#twitter discourse #mention.#aw i messed something up tumblr why have you done this.

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mggssocks · 3 years

Text

Followed

Not My Gif!

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid

Content Warnings: None just fluff :)

Summary: Spencer makes an Instagram and stumbles across reader’s page.

Word Count: 1,899 words

A/N: This is Season 10 Spencer with Season 13 looks. Also, instead of it being Kate on the team, i put Emily instead because who doesn’t love the season 3-7 team? Also I might make a part 2 depending on how much this blows up. Honestly i’d be happy if i got one like. Anyways.. hope you enjoy!!!

masterlist // part 2 // part 3

It was 8:00 in the morning. Spencer walked in the doors of the bullpen to the bau. He sat his satchel down and began to settle in for a long day of work. It was pretty early so the team wasn’t in yet. Except for Aaron Hotchner who had gotten in an hour prior to Spencer and been in his office ever since. Apparently others had the same ‘get to work early’ mindset as Spencer. Spencer opened a case file but his attention was quickly whipped away due to the sound of the door opening. He sees Penelope Garcia with all her attention focused on her phone. Spencer quirked his eyebrows when she bumped into a fellow coworker and her attention remained on her phone while quickly mumbling a quick “sorry”. As she passed his desk, Spencer decided it would be the great time to speak.

“Hey, Garcia.” Her feet came to a stop and her head snapped up at him.

“Boy wonder! I’m so glad you’re here. I really need someone to talk to because if I don’t I’m going to explode!” She sits in the chair across from his desk.

“Is everything alright?” He leaned back in his chair.

“No… no everything is not alright. If anything.. everything is all wrong. Very very wrong. I-“ she takes in a deep breath “I was stalking Kevin’s page because the other day I seen him at the mall with another girl. And while I was 56 weeks down in his page, I accidentally liked a picture.” She explained, in a huff.

“I’m afraid I don’t follow.” Spencer was even more confused now than before she started.

“I liked a picture that he posted 56 weeks ago!” Her eyes were wide.

“How is that a bad thing?” His lips pouted as he’d never understand social media.

“Ugh! Reid, you really need to get with the program and get you an Instagram. That means his picture was old and now he knows that I was looking at his page. You understand now?” She asked.

“Oh. Yeah I understand. It’s bad that he knows you were looking at his page.” He asked as Prentiss, JJ, and Morgan had walked in.

“Yes. And now I must go into the bat cave and wait for him to call or text me and ask what me lurking on his page was about.” She whined as she stomped her way to her office.

“What was that about?” Prentiss asked, setting her bags down on her desk.

“Uhh- rough morning” Spencer shrugged, still not really understanding the whole social media thing.

“Hey do you guys have an Instagram?” He asked the three.

“Yeah but I’m barely on it.” Prentiss answered.

“Same here” says Morgan as he takes a seat at his desk.

“Yeah but I only get on to post the boys and myself sometimes” answers JJ.

“What about Hotch and Rossi?” He asked.

“Yup! Rossi likes to post about his expensive wine and cigars. Hotch posts Jack every once in a while and a throwback Thursday.” JJ says.

Spencer’s eyebrows furrowed for what seems to be the 100th time that day.

“He doesn’t know what that is” Prentiss looks over to JJ.

“It’s something you post like an old picture of yourself every Thursday.” Morgan explains.

“Do you guys do that?” Spencer asked.

“I did last Thursday.” JJ pulls out her phone and opened the app. “This was right after Emily, Penelope, and I caught a guy who was trying to pick up Prentiss by pretending to be an FBI agent a few years ago.” She chuckled showing him a picture.

Spencer takes her phone in his hand and examines the post. 142 likes. 57 comments. He clicks on her name which takes it to her page. 302 followers. As he scrolls, he sees a picture the team took a while ago and sees a little person profile thing the corner and clicks on it causing other names tagged to each individual team member. Except him. After he examined all of their profiles, he gives JJ back her phone and gets to work like the rest of them. He felt a little left out but he knew it was because of his own decisions and not his team. He liked that they didn’t press him about having a social media because they new he was more old school than anything. And it was ironic because he wastage youngest member of the team with the more old school habits.

When Spencer got home he decided he wanted the social media app. The idea of being able to share with his friends and only his friends excited him. Being able to post about his favorite things for his friends to see without talking their ears off.

He opened his phone and went to the app store, typing “instagram” into the search bar. He followed the sites instructions as he made his account. Using a snapshot he took of his bookshelf as his profile picture. He sees the option to add the people in his contact list which was only his team, mom, and his mother’s caretaker. But everyone’s profile popped up and he quickly followed each and every one of them. Except for his mom and her caretaker of course.

Soon enough, he got a follow back from Garcia, Hotch, Rossi, and JJ in that order. Morgan and Prentiss weren’t lying when they said they weren’t on often.

After two weeks, Spencer hasn’t posted anything yet, not knowing what should go on his profile. Morgan and Prentiss ended up following him back and the app ended up adjusting to his interests. Nothing but accounts about interesting facts, books, and doctor who.

It was Friday night and the team had just got back from a case in Chicago. Spencer opened the door to his apartment and set his satchel down on the couch, exhausted. His mind wonders to get something to eat being that he wonders to get something to eat being that he hasn’t ate since before they caught the unsub. Which was about 5 hours and 7 minutes ago but he still needed to get something into his system. Spencer opened his fridge and sees 3 day old Chinese takeout. He shrugs and pops it into the microwave while looking for a book of his to reread while he eats. After he finishes dinner, he gets on his phone and subconsciously pulls up the app. He clicks onto his explore page to discover something else he likes. While scrolling, he sees a picture of someone reading and clicks on it.

765 likes

Yourfriend’sig whenever people ask me what to give you for your birthday or Christmas, I always tell them to get you a book or something green and it works every single time. Happy Birthday to my best buddy, @yourinstagram !

View all 84 comments

Spencer smiles and clicks the heart button and bookmarks it to look at later. He liked the picture. Both the picture and caption reminded him a lot of his own love for books and the color green (hence his apartment).

Once he got out of the shower, he brushed his teeth. He found himself subconsciously scrolling through his instagram bookmarks to find her post. He doesn’t know what it was but something about the picture brought comfort to him. As he brushed his teeth, he clicked on the post once again.This time, he actually clicked on your account. It was a private account with 186 followers. The bio read:

Y/N... bookworm.

Her profile picture consisted of a black cat surrounded by either a bunch of well taken care of plants or artificial ones. His finger hovered over the blue “follow” button. As he bent down to spit his toothpaste out, his thumb accidentally clicked the follow button. But he didn't realize so until he looked down again to see the “follow” button replaced with “requested”. His heart basically drops out of his ass. He quickly clicks the button again, taking back his follow.

It was now one in the morning, Spencer laid in bed awake staring at his ceiling. Once again, he clicks onto the app. He scrolled down his timeline and saw a picture Penelope posted of one of her new desk animals with the caption “Got her at a thrift shop! Isn’t she cute??”. He saw that Hotch and JJ liked 45 other people. JJ also commented with two red hearts. Spencer likes the post and keeps scrolling. His thoughts wander to the post about the girl again. He’s never thought about a social media post this much since he’s created an account. He wonders what sparked his interest so much about this one. As he makes his way to the post, clicking on her account. Debating if he should follow her. She’s a total stranger. Do the others follow strangers? There’s no way JJ knows 302 people in real life. He mentally shrugs and presses the follow button. Requested. Again.

He swipes out of her account back onto the post now seeing that she commented on it.

yourinstagram thank you, bubs! ily to the moon n back <3333

It was commented thirty six seconds ago. Meaning she’s currently active. Again, Spencer’s heart sinks and he immediately regrets his decision. Going back and unfollowing her. He doesn’t know what to do with himself. He’s a mess. Over a stranger. But he feels like an idiot. Reacting the way that he did just because he saw that she was online. So he goes and follows her.... again.

After clearing out all of his apps, he turns off his phone and lays down trying to get some sleep before work in a few hours. His thoughts wander to her. What she was like. if she was nice or mean. If she was socially awkward or very outgoing. Before his thoughts could get too far into what she was like, he receives a notification from instagram. He opens his phone and clicks on the notification. His heart began to pound when he saw it.

yourinstagram would like to send you a message!

He clicks on it.

yourinstagram You’ve followed and unfollowed me about 5 times in the past 3 hours. Is there something I can help you with?

Spencer completely forgot that other people got notifications and now he felt like some kind of creep.

spencerreid I’m sorry. I came across your friend’s Instagram post wishing you a happy birthday and i guess i got curious and wanted to follow you if that makes any sense.

He felt so dumb.

yourinstagram and following me once wasn’t enough for some reason???

spencerreid Sorry about that. I’m new to this whole social media thing and don’t follow any strangers. You are the first person I’m following that I don’t know in real life. Again, my apologies for the disturbance. I’ll unfollow you’re account If you’re uncomfortable with me.

yourinstagram i just hope that you’re not one of my raging exes, someone trying to catfish me, or a psychopath lol.

Spencer smiled.

spencerreid Nope. Just me.

She leaves him one read. Spencer’s smile fades when he doesn’t see any three loading dots. She wasn’t texting him back. As he’s about to exit the app, he sees two notifications.

yourinstagram has accepted your follow request!

yourinstagram has requested to follow you.

********

I hoped you like this!!! If this blows up,i will do another chapter!

#spencer reid #dr reid #criminal minds #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #matt simmons #david rossi #cm #emily prentiss #jennifer jereau #penelope gracia #luke alvez #tara lewis #elle greenaway #spencer reid x you #cat adams

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sneezefiction · 4 years

Text

please don’t go

Ushijima x Reader - Scenario

@moonlightaangel‘s event request: “congrats on reaching 600 followers!! 🥰 can i request ‘please don’t go’ with ushijima, if it hasn’t been requested yet! i need some angsty feelings in my life”

a/n: mmmm angsty Ushijima is my aesthetic :,,)) i also messed around with some flashback formatting, so i hope you enjoy!!

warnings: angst, breakups

wc: 1640

---

“Please don’t go.” It’s a soft, tearful whisper.

“I thought you would understand, y/n. We had established this.” His reply was blunt. Like a dull knife to the chest, digging deeply only to pull right back out, leaving you gushing and writhing at his words.

“Please don’t.” Your cry reached his ears this time.

“I need to focus.” He sighs, twinging with guilt.

Why didn’t you understand? Had you not known that his career would come first? Above everything else?

Or had he misspoken at some point, giving you the false assurance that this relationship would work forever? That he could always treat you as though it were possible to balance both you and his life’s work.

“Then I won’t distract you! Just don’t leave me. Please.” You begged, knees painfully falling to the cold floor, but your cries fell on deaf ears.

He remains resistant to change. Without accommodations. Nothing left to give or take.

“Maybe someday, y/n. But this isn’t working out for me anymore. I have to leave for now.” Ushijima’s response is icy.

He meant for those words to somehow be heartening. Promising, even. That maybe this was just the wrong time and place for a relationship. Where time could ebb and flow and someday he would be able to draw you back into his life.

Yes, there would be a day where you could take priority.

Because he wanted you… but not above his first love. Not above his skills and lifestyle. Not enough.

Volleyball comes first. Plain and simple.

And for that, he wouldn’t compromise.

---

White, crisp linens and fresh lemony scents.

Fluffed pillows fitted with new covers and soft patterns. Feather filled duvets. Curtains drawn to keep out the early morning light.

Everything has stayed clean, clear, and Pristine. Even the dust particles, dancing around the room, have always seemed to find their own peace, settling mildly in gentle formations.

You sleepily blink open your eyes, rustling your arms over the bedspread to what should be a happier sight. Soft pillows hugging your sides, the gentle birdsong outside your window, a conceivably delicious cup of coffee to be made in the kitchen.

Yes, you should be filled with contentment. You were safe. Physically you were fine, and nothing was on your checklist for today.

In fact, things had appeared fine for months now...

Yet all you notice is who’s missing.

There’s no longer a delicate divet where his dozing head used to lay. The scent and shape of the pillow had only recently dissipated thanks to your citrusy laundry detergent and the slow passing of time.

You don’t awaken to a recently showered, olive-green eyed boyfriend. You could still picture the water droplets, hanging freshly on the tips of his tufts of hair. How the towel draped around his neck, over his shoulders, catching the drips and drops as they fell.

That warm smile he shared with you before placing a chaste kiss upon your forehead, caressing the side of your face. It was pure. You can almost feel the ghost of his lips. Still lingering. Mocking you.

You were liberated from his presence… but you never wanted to be.

Being absorbed in his chaotic life had kept you busy, but you had never minded it. There was never a doubt in your mind that volleyball would be his first priority. That he would follow his passions. His plans. His abilities.

You just wanted to tag along. To sincerely celebrate his victories and mourn his losses. Supporting him and holding onto him when he needed it. Yes, he got home late at night, left early in the morning, and only connected with you on his very few off days… but you cherished every second of it.

Because you loved him. You poured your soul into watching him flourish and thrive. It made you feel whole.

However, eventually, to Ushijima, you started to rival volleyball, becoming a distraction. He had made space for you in his already complicated life. And at first, it was a welcome change. A breath of fresh air to his methodical and planned out character. You were complex, bringing new perspective and sunshine into his typically boring apartment. Beautiful in a natural, yet eye-catching way. Furthermore, you somehow knew how to keep up with his hectic pace along with his gruff personality.

In every aspect, you were perfect.

Expect one.

You were a diversion from the life he had in mind.

And even though you never pushed him to give you more… he longed to give you more of his attention. More time. To share his success with you. To love you deeper. To give you what you deserved. Because you are a profound being… and it burdened him to have to choose between his two greatest desires.

But, as most things do, these thoughts of love and devotion go unspoken, coming out all wrong. Mangled, unemotional, and misrepresented. Looking back, Ushijima wishes he’d been able to express it to you with empathy. To erase the tears that followed his brutal narrative. But softness isn’t his strong suit… and he needed you to know that, as powerful as he was, he wasn’t strong enough to balance you and volleyball.

---

“Ushijima, if you leave…” You take a deep breath, tears slipping down your face, “... you have to promise me you’ll never come back.” You choke out, your request came out in a sobering snarl.

For a moment, you question your own words- but your dignity was on the line.

“You can’t just break up with me and expect me to be there when you get back. I’m not disposable, you know?”

His body goes rigid. He hadn’t meant it that way.

You meant more to him than words could express… so why couldn’t he get it out clearly enough? How could he make you understand the gravity of his choices?

“...Y/n, it doesn’t have to be like that. I just need to concentrate right now.” The alarm, though subtle, shines in his eyes.

His usually composed, confident figure began to show cracks of uncertainty. He didn’t want you out of his life… Not at all.

He just needs you out of his mind for the time being. Just until he had things settled. You could come back at some point and he could love you so well. Just the way it was supposed to be.

But clearly he’d struck a deeper chord. He’d selfishly assumed you would wait for him. You weren’t some prized pony.

You’re a person. Someone with worth, plans, and dreams, just like him. He’d failed to acknowledge just how demeaning the truth of his actions were. But it’s too late.

You haven’t replied and the pain is etched intricately across your face.

“Okay, fine.” He breathes in deeply, letting out one final exhalation of defeat, “I... I’m sorry, y/n.” His brows furrow in deep, conflicted thought, but his mind is made.

He won’t be back.

---

Ushijima’s life hasn’t changed much.

It’s the same old routine. The standard, grueling workouts. Typical volleyball practice, group meetings, finances, paychecks, physicals, doctor’s appointments, fan meet-n-greets.

The usual.

But there’s a void settling like glacial frost in his soul. A snowy blue that seemed to melt into his bones, slowing him down.

He didn’t go a week… a day... a minute without thinking of you.

Even now, lying in bed, the room cloaked in a tranquil darkness, you rest on his mind.

It’s not just the emptiness of the bed or the lack of physical touch. It’s the bitter, clawing memories of what he’d done to you and your gentle spirit. His body is frigid and forever frozen in the recurring visions of his foolish explanations, by how heartless and indifferent he’d seemed.

He’ll never get over the venomous tinge to your words.

You’d felt used.

He’d never meant to make you feel that way.

But since he moved out of your apartment, everything has felt glaringly hollow. The icy, barren tundra he crosses every time he realizes he won’t come home to your sunbeam smile and those thoughtfully lit candles, wears on him. How you would lavish him in comforting words, lulling him into a restful sleep.

Ushijima hardly remembers the last time he slept well.

Those dark circles under his eyes follow him everywhere. His whole team can see the exhaustion seeping into his execution of serves and spikes. He’s never struggled with his game performance before, but somehow the crashing reality of you leaving him has broken his patterns and systems.

He’s weary from searching for an answer to his emotions. Your warmth gave him life… and with that gone, what was the point of all of this?

And then it struck him, the realization sinking its needle-sharp claws into his soul, shredding it in seconds.

He’d found something far more valuable than any unique skill. More remarkable than the legacy he’d built as a world-class volleyball player. Someone who wanted to be with him just for the sake of… love.

And for the first time since he was young, he lets a tear slip into his white pillowcase.

Just one.

But it’s for you.

Because in chasing after what made him feel known and alive...

He’d lost the only person who had ever wanted to show him that he was important all along. The only person who was satisfied with his bizarre schedules. Someone who expected nothing more than gentle kisses and weekend dates.

But you were right.

You aren’t dispensable. Nor are you someone to drop for the purpose of picking up later, like loose change on a sidewalk. You deserved to be cherished. Held tightly. Given the love that you offered others.

He wishes he’d listened when you’d pleaded with him to stay. That he’d thought it through and functioned on more than just logic and reasoning. If only he’d known what it really meant to choose you.

Because if you were here now, he’d be the one begging,

“Please don’t go.”

---

tags: @cherryonigiri, @yams046, @kaidasen, @miss-rin

(comment or send an ask to be added to my general tag list)

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #ushijima x reader #ushijima #hq #ushijima scenarios #ushijima imagine #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines #haikyuucreations #hq ushijima #hq scenarios #hq imagines #shiratorizawa #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fanfiction #600 follower event #sneezefiction

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moon-kn1ght · 3 years

Text

toes in the water

pairing: frankie morales x reader

word count: 2k

warnings: kindergarten should def be a warning, maybe also incredibly unvaried sentence structure? rated E for everyone :)

a/n: this is going to be a small series surrounding a single father frankie morales and reader who is a kindergarten teacher. semi-slow burning, super cute and will def have storage closet / after-hours classroom sex at some point. thank you @wyn-dixie for the beta and for quelling my anxieties about literally everything.

masterlist || tag form

Were you supposed to be using the kindergarten enrollment forms to sus out potential cute, single parents? No, definitely not.

But the process of going through the individual forms and comparing them to the database for possible clerical errors was tedious at best, and grueling at its worst. Sitting on those tiny kindergarten chairs, you and the other four members of your team of teachers had already rehashed all of the gossip from the summer, including how Jessica the first year teacher from the 3rd grade cohort had hooked up with that sleazy geometry teacher from the high school at the end of the year district-wide social last May.

“God, I remember when he was student teaching at the middle school,” Dora, your most senior coworker who had ‘been around the block a few times’ and also held onto every piece of gossip that circulated in your district for the last 17 years, drawled, “He had the grossest little rat mustache, you could hardly tell him apart from the 8th graders!”

The group laughs in response to that joke, always ready to make of the holier-than-thou high school teachers. “You know what?” Dora adds, “You’d think after so many years, I’d be used to these tiny fucking chairs, but I am not. I need a walk and a Diet Coke.”

“I’ll join you!” chimed Joanne, the second-oldest teacher in your cohort. The two leaders of your team left the room, leaving you, Claudia, and Andrés, the youngest teachers in the kindergarten cohort. Andrés and you had gone through your credential program together and had known each other for upwards of five years now as best friends. When the two of you arrived at Franklin Elementary, fresh out of school, Claudia had just completed her first year so she welcomed more young teachers with open arms. The three of you have been inseparable for the past several years now.

“Okay, pull out your stacks!” Andrés orders, citing your group’s earlier plan to use this menial labor to check for potential single parents. You were just looking on the forms to see who did not have both parents listed. It wasn’t a perfect system. And yeah, it was probably inappropriate but y’all were just messing around and killing time on this sweltering August day.

“I have one in my class!” you offer. “Student: Grace Miller. Parent: Susan Miller. Occupation: Landscape architect.”

“Oooo, intriguing. Love someone who works with their hands,” Claudia remarks in a silly, sultry voice. “I have one, the student is named Peter, mom is Karen. She’s an accountant.”

“I don’t like the sound of that. Karen? Yeah no thank you. Glad she’s in your class, not mine.” Andrés laughs and you join him. Kindergarten was just as much of a transition for students as it was for parents, and sometimes they took it harder than the kids. “Here’s to hoping she doesn’t live up to her name...” he continues, “Ooh, I have one! He's single dad--”

Oooh, you and Claudia purr.

“Rosalia Morales is the daughter of single dad Francisco; form says he's a small business owner,” Andrés presents this crown jewel piece of information to a round of applause from you and Claudia.

“Ugh, let’s hope he’s cute!” Claudia adds and the three of you dissolve into giggles as the older women return from their Diet Coke run.

—X—

Rosalia Morales was ready for kindergarten. Frankie Morales, on the other hand, was not.

The younger Morales had spent the first weeks of August carefully preparing for this new (and very important) chapter in her life. She carefully deliberated over decisions like what backpack and lunchbox to get from Target (she chose a matching Sofia the First set, so that it could be a topic of conversation for her and her potential new friends at school) to what she was instructing her father to pack in her lunchbox (no PB&J’s in case her new friends were allergic, she wanted to be able to sit at the same lunch table with them and not have these seminal weeks defined by the separation of Peanut vs Peanut free lunches). Rosalia was very meticulous, and she always had been. She was well-prepared to face all the challenges kindergarten wanted to throw at her.

While Rosalia had spent weeks preparing, Frankie had spent weeks dreading the imminent separation from his favorite person in the universe. Yes, he had sent Rosalia to preschool and pre-K but those had all been half-day programs. He would drop her off on his way to work and then pick her up at lunchtime. That only meant four hours apart but full-day Kindergarten was drop-off at 7:45am and pick up at 3:30pm. Seven and a half hours. How am I going to do it? he thought to himself.

—X—

At Franklin, they implemented a very specific first day schedule. Parents walked their kids to their classrooms to hang up their bags, then the students got to go play on the playground while the parents left. The older teachers designed this system to reinforce to the students that school = fun. Yes, of course there were always students who had a rougher first day, but it usually took a couple of hours for the fatigue to set in before the students realized how long the day (and year was going to be).

This system most importantly allowed for a clean break with the parents, a solid ‘goodbye!’ point that the teachers could enforce. But, always, there were some straggler parents (either loitering inside, near the front door or in their cars in the parking lot). The administrative team would let the indoor stragglers know that it was time to leave, but they would have two of the teachers go into the parking lot to make sure all the parents had cleared out.

This year, you and Claudia had pulled those short straws, so while the rest of your team monitored the early recess, you two roamed the parking lot with reassuring waves and “I’m sorry, it’s district policy, you have to leave the parking lot after drop off.” Everyone usually took it graciously—it’s like ripping off a band-aid, it’s better to just get it done.

You had almost cleared the lot of loitering vehicles when you came upon an older, red truck with a man inside it. His window was down so you began to speak to him a little before he noticed you, causing him to jump.

“Hi, I'm one of the teachers in the Kindergarten cohort," you say as you run your bare left hand through your hair. “Are you a parent?”

As he turns to look at you, you can notice that even with his cap pulled low, he has definitely been crying a little. “Hey, yes sorry. I’m Frankie Morales, Rosalia’s dad,” the man stammers, “I’m sorry, I know the policy, I think I’m just having a little bit of separation anxiety.” HIs brown eyes look a little bloodshot as he gives you a half-hearted smile.

You search his face and see no traces of dishonesty, this is just a man very nervous to be sending his kid to school. And a cute one at that too. Claudia called it, you think.

Before you can let your mind wander too far about this stranger, you have to say something. “Mr. Morales...” you start.

“Please call me Frankie. Mr. Morales is my dad,” he interjects nervously.

“Okay, Frankie,” you say. “I understand how nerve-wracking sending your kid to school can be. I may not be a parent myself, but I can empathize. But I can also offer to you that in my years in kindergarten, I’ve never seen a student not adjust to the classroom,” you offer.

“But I also understand that our anxieties can be irrational and don’t like when presented with things that might undermine them. So it’s okay to still be nervous or anxious right now,” you add. “Do you think there’s something that I could do to help you feel better about leaving school property in the next ten minutes or so?” you smile a little to help this last bit come off as nice as possible.

“I…” he mumbles, “I… I’m not sure, my parental intuition is telling me that something will happen in the middle of the day and it’ll take me too long to get here, which I know isn’t going to happen but… I’m worried that I won’t be able to be enough for her”

“You worry because you care, and I can already tell that you care about her a lot. Hey, like I said, our worries don’t have to be rational to get at us.”

“She’s just all I have, she’s the center of my universe,” he adds. With this, you can see the shift in his eyes, from worry to love. You can tell that he loves his daughter with his whole heart.

“Rosalia is in Andrés', I mean, Mr. Gonzales’s class, right?”

“Yeah, she is.”

“I think I might have a solution, a little band-aid just for today,” you bid and Frankie looks hopeful. “This is very much against district policy so you have to promise not to tell on me.”

He laughs with this, and promises not to tell. “How about I give you my phone number, and any time that your fatherly intuition is telling you that something bad is going to happen, you can text me and then I’ll peek across the hall to Rosalia’s classroom, and I can factually assure you that nothing bad is happening?”

Frankie actually smiles, for the first time in this whole conversation, “That would be great,” he says.

—X—

As you knew would happen, the day passed without incident. Frankie didn’t even text you, which you felt good about. But also a little sad because you wanted to start a little texting thing with this single dad. But you knew it would be a little inappropriate, in your heart of hearts.

After all the students get picked up, Claudia and Andrés migrate into your classroom.

“Don’t you think the first day of school calls for a celebratory drink out this afternoon?” Andrés probes. He always was down for happy hour (and to be truthful, you were too). “We should go to the brewery down the road, they have some nice outdoor seating.”

“I’m in,” you state, “And I may or may not have some other good news..” you tease.

“What? What good news could have happened in a room full of 6 year-olds?” Claudia jokes.

“Y’all can’t tell anyone but I got the phone number of that single dad from Andrés’s class,” you say as quickly as you can.

Claudia and Andrés both break into shrieks with this news.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe our prowling on the enrollment forms WORKED!!” Andrés exclaims.

“He was nervous at drop off so I gave him my number but he didn’t end up texting me, so nothing will probably ever come of it. But still, small win in my book.”

Claudia throws her head back, “You deserve all the wins you get, whatever happens, we’re psyched for you.”

Later, during happy hour you check your phone and notice a new text from an unsaved number.

Hey, thanks for your help this morning, having this line of communication made me feel a lot better. Rosalia had a great day today. -Frankie

You try to keep your facial expressions minimal as you read the message. They don’t need to know about this, you think to yourself before shooting back a quick message.

That makes me so happy Frankie. Feel free to reach out whenever you need! About whatever :)

You add that last line hastily and hit send. I can thank this liquid courage for that, you think as you down the rest of your pint.

#frankie morales x reader #frankie 'catfish' morales x reader #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales #triple frontier fic #slow burn incoming baby #my writing #di writes #oH MY finally something i'm actually writing instead of just talking about writing

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mostly-marvel-musings · 3 years

Text

TLC

A/N: Sorry not sorry about the length.

Main Masterlist

Pairing: Chubby! Thor x Reader

Warnings: 18+ Smut, a little angst, but so much fluff!

Word count: 1900ish

Thor Taglist: @raspberrymama @bitchycherryblossomlove @jennie22feona @innerpaperexpertcloud @thorfanficwriter

Everything Taglist: @godofplumsandthunder @ladyacrasia @agustdowney @swaggysposts @littlegasps @little-baby-vixen @another-stark-sub @supraveng @kahlanmars @marvelgirl7 @disappointmentofthefam @pandaxnienke @tom-hlover @just-the-hiddles @fyreball66 @asmigurub @avantgardium-leviosa @imerdwarf @gladiosamicitias

Tags open! Send me an ask or DM if you wish to be in any of these lists :))

The events of the snap had affected everyone. Some more severely than the others. Millions had lost families, some mourned the loss of those who sacrificed their lives in the battle, others simply dusted away into oblivion with no signs of returning.

Your ex demi-God boyfriend took it the hardest. His downfall had begun when he took the entire blame of failing to stop the Mad Titan during the battle of Wakanda. His family, his support system was lost long before but he’d still managed to look at the bright side. It was you that he held onto when the times were tough.

Thanos wiped out half of the population along with every last strand of hope Thor had left to believe in himself. After that, he had pushed everyone away, wallowed in self-pity no matter how much he denied and pretended he was just taking a break. He pushed you away too, now that there wasn’t a point to anything he thought it best to set you free, free from the pain he’d put you through over the years, free to lead your life without him.

There came a time when Thor had been down in the dumps, drinking & wasting his life away, you received a call from Brunnhilde from New Asgard, asking for help.

As heart-broken as you were, there was still a part of you that cared about Thor, the part that loved him without knowing his whereabouts before the call, the part that made your hopeless heart beat a little faster every time there was some news regarding your fellow Avengers, or a knock on your door. That part in you made you book a plane ticket to Norway in search of your Thunder God.

New Asgard was beautiful, brave Asgardians had rebuilt their lives after losing their home planet. Upon meeting Valkyrie, you learnt that there was a brawl in the local pub initiated by none other than the person who’d come looking for. The damage was severe given the reason for the fight. He’d been denied more alcohol that led to several tables being destroyed and the owner of the pub sporting several bruises to his face.

“He’s not our King, not anymore.”

“That man has lost his way, who wants that in a leader?”

The Asgardians held more anger towards their King that you’d ever known. You understood their side, you did but, you also knew what made him act the way he did. And you had made up your mind to fix it.

The walk to Thor’s cottage was short, the door was left ajar & your nostrils were filled with a stench of old beer and something vile as you entered.

The place was a mess to say the least, old take-out boxes strewn about, clothes and shoes that hid furniture pieces under them, the Stormbreaker resting against the fireplace. There was a groan from upstairs indicating the location of the Asgardian God.

“Are you here with my barrels?” He called out, speech slurred and muffled as it reached you.

“No actually I’m here to restore a former King who has lost his way.”

Your voice made him freeze, he hadn’t heard you in two years, a voice that once filled his heart with joy and love, and the face that once made him so happy. As you pushed the bedroom door open, you saw his eyes meet yours for a second before he turned away to stare out the window.

“Why are you here? I don’t need you. I don’t need anyone.”

It broke your heart to see his eyes not light up the way they used to upon seeing you, it pained you that he didn’t reach to pull you in his arms and spin you around like he used to.

“I think you do. The old Thor would be delighted to see me, he would make sure the world would melt away when he’d kiss me, the old Thor w—”

“The old Thor is dead. If you came looking for him, I’m sorry but he is long gone.” He replied harshly, still not facing you as he shoulders sagged and you heard him sniffle after some moments of silence.

You stepped closer and cautiously placed a hand on his shoulder coaxing him to look at you. He moved but his eyes were downcast before you grabbed his face in your hands and were met with his mismatched eyes swimming with unshed tears, once well groomed face now a scruffy mess of overgrown beard and unkempt blonde locks.

“Don’t you ever tell me that the old Thor is dead. I know he’s still in there, he’s just hiding beneath this defensive, hurt, slightly sloppy exterior.”

He gave you a watery chuckle, before wiping his nose on the sleeve of his sweater. You took his hand and led him to the bathroom where you began filling water in the bathtub.

“I have missed you (Y/N).” Thor spoke as followed you back out where you removed your jacket.

“I know.” You nodded towards his bedside table that held a picture of you and him taken by Natasha back at the compound when you had fallen asleep on top of him after a mission on the couch. You remembered wondering who had stolen your copy after you thought you misplaced it years ago.

Thor remained clothed as the water filled the tub, eyes downcast again.

“I’m not how I used to be.”

“It doesn’t bother me.”

Giving him a reassuring smile, you helped him undress, noticing how self-conscious this man got. You thought of something he’d done when you had your moments of insecurity back when you started dating the Avenger.

Closing the bathroom door, you undressed as well, revealing your curves, battle scars and everything Thor was once so familiar with and had made you believe just how beautiful you were. Now it was your turn to do the same for him.

“What are you doing? Y-you don’t have to—”

“I’m reminding you how secure and loved you made me feel when I was having trouble believing it for myself.”

“You have always been beautiful to me. You always will be.” He said with such surety, almost proudly as if there wasn’t a breakup that had left you both miserable.

You made Thor sit in the tub with his head leaned back for you to clean and he obliged, holding onto your hand the entire time in case he’d been dreaming this entire time & that you would vanish into thin air.

A soft kiss to his forehead later you began working your fingers through his hair, trying to get all the accumulated dirt out. It wasn’t long before Thor’s breath became uneven and he held back tears once more.

“Thor it’s okay to feel overwhelmed. I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.”

“I’ve let you down. I’ve let everyone down. I failed at protecting everyone from him.”

“You didn’t fail Thor and you certainly didn’t let anyone down. You’ve lost more than any one of us can ever imagine, you were grieving. You are allowed to grieve. You know what this means. You’re just like the rest of us.”

“But I’m not supposed to be like the rest of you.” He sniffed, holding onto your arms as dry heaves racked his large frame.

“Everyone fails at who they’re supposed to be Thor. It’s okay to mourn, it’s not okay to let yourself be lost in that feeling forever. You lost all of your family but you kept fighting didn’t you? Well the fight’s not over just because he won. We fight everyday, some days harder than others, no matter how difficult it may seem because we owe it to the people we lost.”

You kept rubbing his back while he calmed down, pressing as many kisses to the side of head as you could given the awkward position you were in.

“You were my family (Y/N) and I pushed you away. You didn’t deserve it a-and I’m so so—”

“I don’t blame you, I never did. I still love you Thor, very much. Nothing will ever change that.” You smiled, touching your forehead to his.

“I love you too my beautiful dove.”

He pressed his lips to yours, the kiss a little different from the ones you were used to. He tasted of beer but it didn’t matter, it was still your beloved God of Thunder. The kiss turned hungry when his hands went to the back of your neck to pull you closer while the other went around your naked back, coaxing you into the tub.

Water splashed about and spilled over as you stepped in, straddling his lap before resuming, this time your tongue ran along his bristly lip, biting softly, relishing in the feeling of him again after such a long time.

Thor moved on to pepper your jaw and neck with hurried kisses while his hands roamed over your body, having missed feeling your skin against his, the way your body moulded perfectly against him. He had missed the way you shuddered as his teeth grazed the junction between your neck and shoulder, the way you moaned when he marked a spot there, claiming you as his. He missed the way your breasts felt against his palm, the way your nipples hardened under his touch.

“I’ve missed you so much.”

Thor mumbled between wet kisses against your chest while you pushed his face closer with your hands, wanting to feel as much of him as possible against your skin, a loud gasp emitting from your lips when he rolled his tongue around your nipple before sucking.

Your hips slid against his crotch, desperate for more friction, his shaft rubbing against your folds earning a groan from Thor who suddenly moved your hips, angling you to hover over his erect cock before slowly letting you sink down on him.

The stretch stung a little given how long it had been, though your warmth welcomed him as you held him close, that familiar feeling of being one with Thor returning after a long gap. He buried his face in your neck, soft hands holding your back securely, leaving no space between your bodies as the only sound echoed in the room was of warm water lapping against the sides of the tub and your mingled breaths.

“My love...”

“I’m here.”

You rolled your hips slowly, savouring the feeling of him snug inside you before the need to chase your releases became vital and you both moved in tandem before your end washed over, leaving you writhing in pleasure in Thor’s arms while he held you. Your orgasm triggered his own as he grabbed your hips and began thrusting into you, sending new waves of pleasure coursing through your system.

A few moments after returning to your senses, you realised the water had gone cold & it was time to get out before your skin started pruning but neither of you made any effort of doing so.

“Thank you love.”

“For what?”

“Saving me.”

“You would’ve done it for me.”

“We have to get out some time you know.” You chuckled, lazily drawing patterns on his soft back while he placed kisses repeatedly on your shoulder.

“I’m not letting you go anytime soon.”

#thor odinson x reader #thor odinson smut #chubby thor #post endgame #thor fanfiction #thor x y/n #thor angst #thor odinson #thor odinson oneshot #marvel fanfiction #thor mcu #thor odinson fanfiction

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wyn-n-tonic · 3 years

Text

Golden, Like Daylight -- Part VIII

Word Count: 1,304 Warnings: PTSD. I don't think anything else needs a warning? Message me if I'm wrong though, I'll fix it. Author's Note: Thanks for your patience in getting this chapter out! Last week was difficult and then I had friends come over for the weekend (FRIENDS! AMAZING!). I'm not super proud of this but I'm also proud of this. We're getting to the end of this series and I'm just really... in fucking awe at all the nice things that have been said to me about this. Like, I'm genuinely over the moon and losing my mind every time somebody says something nice to me. Thank you so much for reading!

MASTERLIST | PART: I | II | III | IV | V | VI | VII | VIII | IX

He slaps the passport against Pope’s forehead, starting a long held tradition between the two and he knows this will be the last time as he slowly says, “Nos vemos.”

See you.

The flatness he gives the words lets Santiago Garcia know, as he takes his friend and brother in, if he sees this man again, it will be through exchanged nods at functions for the others.

Santiago steps forward and Frankie embraces him but it’s wrong. It’s all wrong for who they are to each other. Who they were. It’s wooden, the weight of this mission—this mess—adding a new kind of density to the pain he carries. Frankie’s out for the count. For good.

“Cuídate,” he whispers into his friend’s ear.

Take care of yourself.

And he walks away, heading home where he belongs. A place he shouldn’t have left in the first place. Out of all the regrets Santiago has, dragging that man to Colombia might just be one of his biggest.

Leah was right, Santiago is never the one picking up the pieces. —————

He has to knock.

She disabled the doorbell the day they moved in, placing a small sign where delivers and visitors could easily read:

A combat veteran lives here, please knock gently.

She didn’t want any loud, sudden noises to trigger panic attacks. Wanted him to be comfortable in his home.

He didn’t tell her it would be today, wasn’t sure when he’d be able to get a flight out so he didn’t want to get her hopes up. But it had all worked out and he hadn’t had time to call and he doesn’t have his keys.

He didn’t take any identifying information with him. No phone. No keys. No wallet. Just the black tags that now sit heavy against his chest. He slipped them on mid-flight and walked back into the country with them to a quiet, welcome home, soldier from the customs agent. He didn’t even notice as he stamped the little blue book that the name stamped into the metal was completely different.

Frankie scratches his smooth face and stares down at the near bare feet standing firm on the wood of his front porch.

He made it.

He packed light back into the States, dumping his clothes and boots in the trash. All he has now is eight thousand in cash, a couple gifts for the girls and the fake passport he’ll be running through the shredder tonight. He picked up the flip flops at a vendor where he bought some of the shit to stuff with the cash.

Another steadying breath drags through his lungs and he looks around his silent neighborhood, the one Leah insisted on because of its proximity to the base. Illegal to set off fireworks this close to government property.

She shot down every house he found in any other part of the city and he didn’t even know why until the Fourth of July when his back bristled in anxiety waiting for the attacks to take his mind for the night.

Tears well up in his eyes as he finally brings his hand down on the sturdy wood.

She loves me so much more than I deserve. —————

“You stole my goddamn shirt, Francisco Morales,” she mumbles sleepily into his chest.

They haven’t left the couch all night, both his girls with their faces firmly planted into his chest. Their fitful sleep eased by the peace of his beating heart against their ears.

“I brought it back,” he laughs, smoothing her hair back, “but I won’t take it again, baby, I promise.”

And he means it. The only reason he took it to begin with is because she wears it as often as he does, her smell wrapped up in his and he brought it for comfort. But the rain and the saltwater of the sea wiped that scent away and he’s not doing this shit again.

“Because you’re not going anywhere again, right?” There’s a slight panic to the words, no matter how slowly they roll out.

He pulls her closer, “never, mi alma.”

“Good,” she looks up and he breaks all over again at her bloodshot, tired eyes, glassy and searching. Her pain meeting his but unspoken in favor of quiet reunion, his heart breaks because it wasn’t just him almost losing everything on a risky at best plan and he never even stopped to consider it was her everything too.

He saw it when she opened the door and instead of crumbling inwards with their daughter resting against her chest, she opened her arms and let him crumble instead. It was there when she excused herself to the bathroom and when she came back, falling apart in stolen moments of peace and quiet.

“I won’t do this again,” he says, the pad of this thumb sliding across the curve of her cheekbone; skin already raw with tear stains where they’ve run like rivers around her. She breaks into him then, arms tight around his still sore body as she buries her head into his broad chest. He instinctively moves to running his hand through her hair—his large hands turning her to jelly with each brush against her scalp—before he speaks again, adding reassurance to his words.

“And if I didn’t think you’d love it so much, I’d never even want to go back to St. John's.” He stresses that last bit, because it was the least stressful part of it all and still stabbed at him. Pulled at him. Reminded him that he was away. That he did this to his family.

“If you don’t want to be there,” she hiccups, “then I’ll never love it.”

And she means it. —————

Frankie cuts the last box open to begin sorting through the goods shipped home. The system follows that Frankie unloads the boxes, Benny separates the goods and Will counts the money. It’s worked flawlessly over the weekend as everything is accounted for, including the stacks that bought their way back into the country.

“How do we go about this shit anyway?” It's the question that’s been on Frankie’s mind from the jump, hoping he doesn’t find himself in another goddamn mess to maneuver away from.

“We can’t deposi—“

“No shit, William, so what do we do?”

He doesn’t need more crimes on top of all the ones he’s already committed. Money laundering on top of murder. Doesn’t even know where to start and a hundred thousand is hardly something to open a carwash about. He feels a stress settling in as he realizes he didn’t fully think this through.

“Just be smart about it,” comes the younger Miller’s voice, “keep it in the house, use it for groceries and other errands. Anything small that can be paid for cash, pay for it in cash. It adds up so your bank isn’t hit with constant fees, you can use that for the big shit. If you get in a pinch, deposit a couple hundred but never more than that. If you do need more, give cash to a friend and have them transfer it to your account.”

Benny looks up and finds the stunned faces of his brothers, “what? I dated a chick who was really into that Dave Ramsey guy.”

Frankie just continues to look at him in confusion, not expecting any of this information to come from Benny of all people and it seems Will wasn’t either because he follows it up with,

“Who the fuck is Dave Ramsey?”

“You know,” Benny continues to separate the goods into piles to be donated, “he’s that guy who talks about the money, I think that's the best way to go about it. We can’t exactly Breaking Bad this.”

“You're not smart enough to Breaking Bad this,” Frankie tells him.

“Nope,” he smiles, “I'm smarter.”

#frankie morales #francisco 'catfish' morales #francisco morales #francisco catfish morales #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfiction #frankie morales fanfiction #will miller #benny miller #santiago garcia #santiago 'pope' garcia #william 'ironhead' miller #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #ofc #oc #original character #original female character

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5uptic · 3 years

Text

crewfu: fanfic spotlight :)

Angel of Life, Bringer of Death by woofles1990 (5up/Steve, teen rating, gen | 377 words, chaptered WIP)

Summary: Steve and Dk just wanted to explore a dungeon. That's all they wanted! A certain angel clearly had other plans.

flashover by Anonymous (Apollo & 5up, teen rating, gen | 853 words)

Summary: n. the moment a conversation becomes real and alive, which occurs when a spark of trust shorts out the delicate circuits you keep insulated under layers of irony, momentarily grounding the static emotional charge you've built up through decades of friction with the world. OR: it's pretty stupid to sleep on the tiles of a subway station, even though you are well aware you have a home. It's also quite embarrassing to have a friend pick you up from there.

Sparks Fly by Rocketro (5up/Fundy, gen rating, m/m | 863 words)

Summary: 5up and Fundy watch fireworks together.

you're holding back (shut up and dance with me) by lytriis (5up/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 1.2k words)

Summary: 5up and steve dance.

what happens in Vegas by aphilologicalbatman (Apollo/Steve, explicit rating, m/m | 1.4k words)

Summary: "I'm pretty sure this is a bad idea, Steve." "Nah, this is a great idea, dude." (Or: the one where they hook up in Vegas.)

quiet when i'm coming home by homeward_bound (5up/Hafu/David, teen rating, gen & multi | 1.4k words)

Summary: 5up comes home from LA.

i could peel it for you by sweetlikesugr (5up/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 2k words)

Summary: One appletini at a time, 5up ponders about oranges, buttons and celestial bodies.

from blossoms by 5280ft (5up/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 2k words)

Summary: “O, to take what we love inside, to carry within us an orchard, to eat not only the skin, but the shade, not only the sugar, but the days, to hold the fruit in our hands, adore it, then bite into the round jubilance of peach. There are days we live as if death were nowhere in the background; from joy to joy to joy, from wing to wing, from blossom to blossom to impossible blossom, to sweet impossible blossom.” -Li-Young Lee, From Blossoms

you think that i'm foolish now by amsves (5up/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 2.1k words)

Summary: “Is everything okay?” That’s a stupid question and Steve knows it. If everything was okay, Five wouldn’t be randomly appearing at his hotel room at—Steve checks his phone—2:37 in the morning. Their group had split up for the night a few hours ago, uncharacteristically early for them, but Five had had plans to talk to—

Like you wouldn't notice by Anonymous (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 2.1k words)

Summary: Apollo is having feelings, so he pushes them down and hopes Steve doesn't notice. Avoiding Steve was never going to end well. "From that moment on, Apollo becomes hyper-aware of all things Steve. The way his long leg touches his, hip-to-knee, in the bar booth when they're drinking overpriced cocktails."

Vegas Lights by amethystvxidwalker (5up/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 2.3k words)

Summary: “You were planning on actually swimming with me, right?” Steve faced him, brown eyes and dopey grin almost making Five swoon. He forced himself to focus on Steve’s face rather than the black ink above his hip, small, blocky text that read ‘SUGR?’ because of course it did.

ice-cream-covered screaming hyperactive thought by cj__writes (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 2.5k words)

Summary: Apollo isn’t sure when, exactly, he fell in love with Steve. Maybe, just maybe, he thinks, he never really fell. Maybe, he’s been falling. He’s still falling.

u spilled orange on u by SmearedWords (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 3.1k words)

Summary: Five times Dumbdog thinks Steve is illegally attractive and the one time he tries to admit that to him. Keyword: tries.

My love is the evening breeze touching your skin by tumtummeke (Apollo & Steve, general rating, gen | 5.2k words)

Summary: Steve's love language is physical touch. Dumbdog's is... not that. A day at the beach with Steve and Dumbdog (and background crewfu), told in five touches.

be like the love that discovered sin by Qupid (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 5.6k words)

Summary: It’s annoying because Apollo even left for work a whole hour early today, which should be enough time to get to his shitty office job like everyone else on the train, but unlike everyone else, Apollo also has a second job. Which leads to the last reason why Apollo is having a bad day: being pinned under an overturned car while a villain monologues at him. Well, that last reason isn’t really part of Apollo’s bad day, but sue him if he wants to include the misfortunes of his hero identity Dumbdog while listing the reasons for his bad mood. “I don’t have time for this, Suptic,” Apollo grits out, interrupting the villain’s monologue.

friends in this town by 5280ft (5up/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 6.1k words)

Summary: Five only realizes he’s bitten his nails down to the quick when the sting of pain catches up to him. He’s probably overthinking. He just needs to talk to Hafu. That’s all. ...He doesn’t want to. He’s worried he will only hear an answer he’ll hate. Out back, putting off talking to his sister really gives Five a sense of deja vu. All he needs to complete the feeling is Steve. “You need to relax, man.” Speak of the devil.

this party's just another haunted house by cj__writes (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 7.7k words, chaptered WIP)

Summary: On December 31st, Apollo wakes up in his hotel in Vegas. The problem is, it's always December 31st.

call me by your name (i don't know that's pretty gay) by Qupid (5up/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 10k words)

Summary: “Oh!” The human suddenly exclaimed, “You probably want my name!” Five had no interest in holding the power of a name over a human, it always seemed more trouble than it was worth, “Not particu-” “I’m Steve! It’s a pleasure to meet someone as cute as you.” The human, Steve, interrupted before 5up could finish. 5up’s eyes widened as he felt the power of gaining a name rush through him. It was intoxicating and he could see why some fae would frequently come to the human realm just to trick humans into giving up their names. Five hadn’t needed to trick Steve, the man had given up his name freely and Five couldn’t believe how goddamn stupid he was to do it. “Ohhhh my god you’re an idiot.”

you'll hear me howling outside your door by Qupid (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 22.2k words)

Summary: Something warm blew against Steve’s face and, distantly, he heard a high pitched whine. A nudge, and when Steve ignored it, a more insistent push had him opening his eyes to the face of a wolf mere inches from his own. Steve laughed. How delightful! He was hallucinating animals now. The wolf’s fur looked bright to him, but even with as dark as it was Steve could tell it wasn’t white. Maybe it was more of a sandy color. Not that it mattered when all Steve could focus on was its piercing gaze and how its eyes seemed to bore into his soul. The wolf whined again and nudged Steve in the shoulder with its nose, making the man rear back when he realized that this might actually be a real wolf and not a hallucination at all.

kinda good for my love by sweetlikesugr (5up/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 44.7k words, chaptered)

Summary: 5up can’t really recall the exact moment when dares became his and Steve’s thing and he is not sure if he even wants to try - after all, why would you mess with something that feels so natural, that feels so right? Why not just let it take its course and see where it might lead them?

Also: mangoedges‘s 5up the human impostor collection!

FAQ:

Wait what is this: pretty straight to the point! i’ll regularly share crewfu-related fanfictions to this blog :)

How regularly is “regularly”?: great question! LOL. it depends on the flow of fanfics that get uploaded, which i do not have any control over, but i’m looking forward to do this twice a month. after all, it’s only me doing this and i often run on a tight schedule.

What’s the format like?:

[title of fic with link] by [author of the fic with link] ([main pairing(s)], [fic rating: eg, general rating], [relationship: eg, m/m] | [word count in k], [added prompt to specify if it’s complete or not])

Summary: [summary provided by the author. if it doesn’t have a summary, a “No summary” prompt will be put instead]

(What does WIP mean again?): Work In Progress :)

Why are you doing this?: from the beginning, my blog has hosted conversations about RPF (real people fiction) and crewfu pairings. this has evolved into people sending me updates about certain fics in the crewfu tags every now and then, but i wanna take the next step and just do these things myself. after all, i’m already lurking in the tags often to see the fics that get posted. as someone who is both a writer and a reader, i wanna appreciate fanfic writers and help out other people that want to read fanfic and consume more fandom content!

Will it be AO3 only?: well, ao3 has a very helpful tag system that makes finding fics incredibly easy, as well as allowing people with no accounts to like and comment on fics, so that’s the site i will personally look in for fanworks. but if there are any fics you’ve written or liked in any other platforms, such as wattpad, you can always contact me through my inbox (send an ask or a dm!), and i’ll make sure to include for the next fanfic spotlight :)

Does it mean you won’t reply to fic asks anymore?: yeah, i guess. since i’ll be doing the searching myself it seems counterproductive. but if i ever skip a fic or again, it’s in another platform, or you’ve posted/read the fic a while ago and you want to get more traction on it, hit me up and i’ll take it into consideration!

Will you read every single one of the fics on your list?: oh no. again, i run on a tight schedule, and also i have my own taste when it comes to fics. i won’t be reviewing fics or any of the sort, and my intention extends to simply sharing these fics to this page so people will have easier access to them :) that’s where ao3 tagging becomes SUPER useful!!!

So what’s the criteria for the way you’ll sort out the fics in your list?: word count, going from lowest to highest. in case of fics in other platforms, i guess i’ll put them at the top of the list. i’ll also be looking for fairly recent fics, so let me know if you want any old-ish fic to be included.

I see you talking mostly about 5up/Steve and Steve/Apollo. Can I still send/see other crewfu fics?: why yes absolutely! my goal is to push every fic which heavily features regular crewfu characters - 5uptic and supdog just happen to be very popular pairings. so, to give you a list: core 4 (5up, hafu, dk, steve), apollo, aipha, annie, janet, kimi, ellum, koji… you know the drill. it doesn’t have to be centered on a relationship, or about 5up in specific, etc. my only requirement is that any of the previously mentioned members are a central part of the fic or are HEAVILY featured in it (sorry, minecraft fics with 50+ tags who only mention 5up as an afterthought won’t make the cut :/).

Isn’t shipping Bad™?: well, it’s a little more nuanced than that. i will go out of my way to discourage and shame people who often violate CCs’ boundaries by acting like so and so has a crush on this person, or that this and that are Actually Into Each Other or secretly dating. any sort of tinhat bullshit is a big nono (think larries). but i run on the assumption that people who write rpf understand that what they’re doing is simply write a completely fictional story using real life personalities, and understand the boundaries necessary to do it - aka they’re not tinhats, they understand they can’t assume everything about CCs’ thoughts and personalities, they understand that what they’re writing is strictly fiction, they keep these works only in fandom circles, etc. (but again, it’s only one me doing this, so please be kind if i don’t happen to know that this person is Actually a tinhat or whatever).

show fic: NO. (seriously. i don’t feel comfortable putting my ao3 account out there. please respect my privacy on these trying times <3)

I REALLY don’t care about your rpf/fic talk: fair! i’ll be tagging every single one of these posts as “fanfic spotlight”, so just mute the tag using tumblr settings so you’ll never have to look at these! likewise, you can follow the tag if you want to keep up with it, or search it on my blog to look at the other entries you might have missed.

Hey, my fic is here and I don’t feel comfortable with it being shared over here: no problem! let me know as soon as you can and i’ll take it down <3

#crewfu #fanfic spotlight #very lenghty ones for this list!!!#also the first e rating oh boy oh boy

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wrenhyperfixates · 3 years

Text

Love Poison

Pairing: Loki x reader Summary: You plan to take extreme measures to catch Loki’s eye. Unfortunately, things backfire terribly. Can something good come of the mess? Warnings: use of a love potion (putting this here because in case that bothers some people) but I think that’s it A/N: For @tom-hlover. Thanks for requesting and hope you enjoy!

Tag List: @lucywrites02 @frostedgiant @lunarmoon8 @twhiddlestonsstuff @lokistan @thelokiimaginechroniclesficrecs

Disclaimer: Picture not mine

You glanced out the window of Tony’s lab. In the week since you’d been promoted to his personal assistant, you’d seen more of the Avengers than you had in your almost five years of working at the Tower. In fact, you’d seen all but the one you’d really been hoping to. Loki. You had a little crush on the god, you would admit, but you had no hope of getting to know him if he never stopped by the lab. You considered asking your boss about him, but decided that the embarrassment wasn’t worth the risk. So, instead, you kept on waiting.

Your lucky break came one day when Tony sent you to the kitchen to get him some coffee. A large part of you wanted to suggest sleep instead, since he’d pretty obviously been up since you’d left the Tower last night. But you were still too new to the job to be so bold. You were in the middle of pouring Tony’s drink when a certain raven haired god came rushing in, snickering to himself. He stopped in his tracks when he noticed you.

“Who are you?” he asked sharply, as if he had been caught in the middle of something. Judging by the box of glowing vials he had with him, you supposed he might be. “How did you get in here?”

“Oh! I, uh, I work for Tony. I’m his new lab assistant,” you responded shyly, telling him your name.

“Ah, I see. A pleasure to make your acquaintance. I am Loki of Asgard. That doesn’t happen to be Stark’s drink in your hands, does it?”

“Actually, yeah, it is. May I ask why?”

Loki peered over his shoulder before turning back to you, a mischievous glint in his eye. You were almost certain your heart would beat out of your chest if you stayed in this close proximity to him any longer, but he finally began to explain himself.

“I was hoping to slip a potion into it. I had been planning on just dumping it into the coffee pot, but it would much easier if you could help me sneak it into the cup. Do not worry, I will not let you get into trouble. I will gladly take full blame. And, before you ask, it is completely safe.”

You contemplated for a minute trying to choose between your new job and Loki. The choice was pretty obvious, though, as you always tended to think more with your heart than your head. Maybe this could even spark a friendship between you and the god.

“Ok,” you nodded. “What’s it going to do?”

“It will make him burst out into uncontrollable laughter,” Loki explained as he set a few vials on the island, looking for the right one. “A harmless prank, really, but all I can get away with these days.”

A few moments later he was saying goodbye and hurrying off to enact his next prank. So much for that friendship you were hoping would bloom. Except, he’d left a potion behind. Maybe you could return it to him, and at least get another conversation out of it. But then you looked at the label and got another plan entirely. It was a love potion.

Ten minutes later you were staring at the bottle of glowing purple-pink liquid. Tony had run out to yell at Loki, knowing immediately who had been responsible for his sudden laughter. There were blueprints to be working on, you knew, but you’d had an idea, and it was proving nearly impossible to get it out of your mind. If you could just see Loki again, find him again, you could give him a drink with the potion in it. Not a lot, just a drop. Just nudge him into having feelings for you. Then once he got to know you, maybe the potion would have worked its way out of his system and his feelings would be real.

Almost without knowing what you were doing, you were pouring some of the contents in a cup of water. You poured yourself a cup of water, too, suddenly feeling very anxious. Was this right? You hadn’t technically stolen it or anything. But deep down, you knew that wasn’t the issue. This was crazy. It was manipulative. Everything about your relationship will have started out as a lie. Maybe you just needed another sip of water to calm down.

“Shit,” you whispered to yourself as you realized you’d drunk out of the wrong cup. Your mind went into full panic mode before focusing solely on Loki.

You skipped through the halls of the Tower, looking for your otherworldly prince. He said your name in a question as he almost collided into you. Immediately he knew something was off, he just couldn’t quite put his finger on it. It would bug him until he could.

“Did Stark send you after me?” he questioned. “I do not suppose you would be willing to help me out a second time?”

“Tony didn’t send me,” you brazenly replied. “I’m here to ask you on a date, Loki.”

“And why,” he said in a sharp laugh of disbelief, “would you do that?”

“Because I’m in love with you.”

His eyebrows shot halfway up his face. Not only was that an outrageous thing to say because you hardly knew each other, it was unbelievable because he was, well, him. Plus, you seemed a lot more bold than you had earlier. He almost didn’t believe it was the same person. Maybe you had a twin running around. Or maybe it was drugs. But no. He’d seen the effect drugs had on Midgardians before, and this was different. Still, he could not figure it out.

“That is lovely, but-”

“He would love to!” Thor cut his brother off as he appeared from around the corner. “How about you get some coffee? You like coffee, right brother?”

“No.”

“It’s perfect considering how we met,” you giggled as Loki grimaced. “I know a place that has coffee and tea, if you like that better.”

Loki desperately wanted to decline, but it was the last thing he needed for his image. Besides, he was pretty sure Thor would drag him there even if he said no.

“Very well. I shall meet you in the lobby at seven.”

“See you later, Loki,” you giggled as you waved goodbye, leaving to go doodle his name in your notebook.

“Well, well, brother,” Thor said. “I had no idea you had finally realized what an eligible bachelor you are. Good for you, putting yourself out there.”

“I suppose you were not at the same conversation I was,” Loki said wryly. “You put me out there. I was about to say no.”

“Come now, it will be good for you. Why do you seem so dismayed?”

“It does not make sense that they like me. No, they said love, actually. For one, I hardly know them. For two, I am me, don’t forget. Harbinger of destruction in the Battle of New York. Something is not adding up.”

“Just enjoy this, brother. Someone has realized how wonderful you are and asked you out. It is just how things work on Midgard.”

“Perhaps,” Loki mused, wracking his brain. “But I must do some research. There may be magic involved.”

“You know what,” his brother sighed, “I am going to help you just to prove this is real.”

“If you must.”

The search proved fruitless, but Loki was determined to comb through more of his enchantment books later. Right now, however, he had to meet you. For a date. The whole thing still sounded absolutely absurd. Though, he would admit you did look rather adorable bundled in your coat, ready to go out in the cold night air. Being the gentleman that he was, he offered you his arm, which you excitedly took as you giggled. That was another thing, why were you suddenly so bubbly? It was a far cry from the shy, easily flustered person he’d met earlier. He added it to his mental list of possible symptoms of whatever was afflicting you.

About an hour later, the two of you were still seated in the small café you’d brought him to. Loki was, surprisingly, enjoying himself. He had to keep reminding himself that this was not real, that he shouldn’t get too attached, for he was sure he’d figure this out sooner or later.

“Really?” you laughed as he finished his story.

“Yes, the entire chair just gave out from under him,” he recalled, telling you of one of the many times he’d pranked Thor in their youth. “After all, he’d just said to stop gluing him to it. Everything else was fair game. The best part was father never could prove I was behind it.”

“I wish I was clever like that. Or could do magic.”

“Well, I’ve never heard of a Midgardian working seiðr before, but I suppose nothing is impossible. I fear I may not be the best teacher, though. I lack the patience a good teacher should possess.”

“You seem plenty patient to me. Loki, you’re...” you said, nervously casting your eyes down to the floor, “well, you’re amazing.”

He blushed at your words, but accepted them with a small thank you. You’d calmed down considerably throughout the course of the evening, now seemingly fully captivated in your conversation with Loki. And he even found himself thinking that he didn’t mind your company, a rare thing indeed. Maybe Thor was right after all. Maybe this was real. As much as he wanted to believe that, deep down, he still knew something was very, very wrong.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Loki took you out again a week later. After a dinner out in the city, he had nervously brought you back to the Tower for a movie on his couch. It had been Thor’s idea, though he seemed to have been hinting at something else by suggesting Loki bring you back to his quarters. But, thankfully, you didn’t seem particularly interested in any of those things. Rather, you were content to just sit with Loki and let the movie play. You were curled into his side, cuddling him. It took someone actually wanting to be near to him to make him realize how touch starved he actually was. It alarmed him at first, to have you so close, but he relaxed as you began methodically braiding and unbraiding a few locks of his hair. A small smile played at his lips as he thought of the domestic simplicity of it.

“Hey, Loki,” you said. “I’m really glad I met you.”

“I am too. And to think, it all started with a simple prank.”

Loki suddenly stood up from the couch, accidentally pushing you off him. He apologized as he rushed over to his bookcase. Remembering how you’d first met had made him think of something; he’d been searching for an enchantment, but he’d never considered it being the effect of a potion. Reading the page in the book, he realized you were exhibiting all the symptoms. He sighed and checked his potion box, hoping against hope that he would find nothing missing. Unfortunately, he did.

He’d packed up his things so quickly that he must have left one behind and, one way or another, you’d consumed it. And of course it had to be that one of all the options. It was more love poison than love potion, he thought to himself as he scoffed. He sat down and plopped onto the couch, burying his head in his hands.

“Loki?” you hesitantly asked. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, my darling, I am so sorry. It is all my fault,” he apologized, taking your hands as confusion sparked behind your eyes. “It may take a little time, but I will fix this. For now, you should go home.”

“But, Loki,” you sniffled. “I don’t want to. What’s happening? Can I see you tomorrow?”

He hesitated. He really shouldn’t let this continue, for both your sakes. “I... Yes, I will you see you tomorrow. Do not worry about what is going on, I will take care of it.”

You sniffled some more, but acquiesced. After placing a kiss to his cheek, you set off towards your flat, leaving the unfinished movie playing in the background. Loki immediately started preparing the antidote. It would take nearly a week to fully brew, and he tried to figure out what to do with you in the meantime. He feared that if he kept seeing you, you would hate him when you came to. But, if he rejected you now, you might become violent and unpredictable. Better to keep you safe. And, if he was lucky for once in his life, maybe he could have a chance with you once you were in your right mind.

As soon as the antidote finished, Loki prepared to give it to you. He’d found the bottle of love potion hidden in Tony’s lab and concluded you couldn’t have used more than a few drops. He even dared hope for a second that you hadn’t used it, after all, but then he noticed the seal had been broken. The small dosage must have been the reason he didn’t recognize the side effects as belonging to it right away. The larger the dosage, the more intense the effects.

“Hi Loki,” you greeted as he opened the door for you.

“Hello, darling.”

“Is something wrong?” you asked, cupping his cheek. “You seem upset.”

“I am fine. May I interest you in a glass of water? Tea? Anything to drink, really.”

“Oh! I guess water sounds good. Thanks,” you smiled.

He handed you the cup and waited while you took a sip. The effects were almost instantaneous, filling him with both joy and sadness at the same time. You gazed around the room with a dazed look on your face. Loki helped you to a chair as you regained your senses.

“Oh my gosh,” you gasped. “Loki, I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry for what, darling? I am the one who left the potion lying around.”

“Yes, but,” you started, wondering how much you could get away with. You decided it was just best to come clean. “I should have returned it as soon as I saw it. Not... not try to give it to you. Serves me right that I accidentally took it myself.”

“You were trying to give it to me?” Loki inquired with furrowed brows. “What would you do a thing like that for?”

“Because,” you gulped, “I really do have a crush on you, Loki. I was desperate, I guess. But that’s no excuse, so yeah, I’m sorry. I should go now.”

“Wait,” he called after you before you could run off. You were rather charming, he thought. And he did believe that he got to know a bit of the real you through the potion. Besides, maybe Thor was right, and it was time he put himself out there. “I know we did not start under the best circumstances, but I would like to take you on a real date if you will allow it. Say, tonight?”

“Really?” you squeaked in disbelief. “I would love to, Loki.”

“Just do me one favor, darling. Stay away from potions, please.”

“Believe me,” you nervously laughed, “I plan on it.”

You scurried away to text your friends about the crazy turn of events. Loki smiled after you before destroying the rest of the love potion, happy that some good was able to come out of the whole mess. But there was one thing he knew for certain; he’d be swearing off potion making for quite some time.

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