#once again. did better on this quiz than i did on the states. though only by one percentage point
Note
do any of the teachers ever notice the things happening to y/n? (i headcannon Mic and Midnight as yanderes that would give advice to 1A lol)
yandere!Class 1A x fem!reader
[2.1K]
Summary: Aizawa is the first one you approached in regards to your certain predicament.
Warning: nonconsensual recording
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Aizawa suspected something wasn’t quite right by the moment he saw you entering the class a minute before the bell rang, all haggard and teary-eyed, though you tried your best to obscure your disposition. He always knew you to often be in a state of discomfort whenever you were compelled to socialize, especially with your classmates, but now - you looked as if you reached your limit of holding the weight of the world on your shoulders, crashing down all at once as depicted on your crestfallen expression.
And when you showed up in front of the faculty room, timidly soliciting his presence, his suspicions were only further verified. Even with a pending question regarding subject matters in your mind, you weren’t one to approach a teacher to inquire about it, and if you did it was because the teacher was the one who would ask your attendance; never the other way around.
Present Mic was the first one to acknowledge you. He stood up from his office chair, waving at you comically. “Yo, (l/n)! Having trouble with English again?”
You never had a problem with his subject; he only insisted that you’d come to him in regards to that. “N-no, not really. May I speak to Aizawa-sensei?”
“Talk with me instead!” He enthusiastically spoke and headed over to you. “Come on, what’s the matter?”
“It isn’t your place to ask that when I’m here.” Aizawa interceded, clearly unimpressed by Mic’s antics. He failed to see the latter’s displeased countenance. “(L/n), what is it?”
You avoided eye contact with him, averting your view to the ground - that was alright. You were always like this, and he didn’t mind. Nothing out of place except for the fact that it looked as if you were about to cry any moment now.
“Can we- can we, um, talk somewhere more private?” You asked quietly.
His brows raised in wonder at your request. Nevertheless, he didn’t decline you, only nodding lackadaisically before heading towards the teacher’s lounge, where you followed him suit. He flicked the door tag to ‘occupied’ and entered the room after you, when he told you sit on the three-person sofa situated not quite on the farthest left of the space. Then, he settled himself on the chair across you.
“Well?” He asked, expectantly.
But you had once again your head above a thick cloud of anxiety. You knew that after the event with Momo in the girls’ locker room - where you had injured her against your will because she had been violating your personal space - your homeroom teacher kept a cautious eye on you in case you’d re-enact that incident. And it wasn’t just that incident that made him look at you like you were a criminal on the loose, either. Your classmates found and did a lot of ways to place you in Aizawa’s naughty list just so you wouldn’t snitch on their abusive (they’d call it affectionate) behavior on you.
That didn’t erase the fact that you were nevertheless his student; he cared for you no less than he cared for his other pupils, yet you were just too ignorant in figuring that out. All that mattered to you was that you’d voice out your current concern to him, but with your insecurities holding you down it seemed it would be more difficult than you had primarily foreseen it to be.
“I-I,” you stammered out, fiddling with something inside your pocket, “u-um, you see, t-there’s this, I mean, I can’t-”
He grew increasingly frustrated with your constant stuttering, and although he did understand your shy nature which largely affected your conversational habits, he only had so much patience to deal with it.
“I don’t have all day.” He stated, glowering at your form in mild irritation. “If you’re going to keep doing that, talk to the wall.”
You abruptly halted in speaking after that, only looking down on your lap, staring wide-eyed, grief-stricken at the revelation that perhaps he really did not want to heed any of your words because you were just that bad of a student that he had decided you were not worth much the effort to concern himself with. And maybe he was right - that your words didn’t matter because you didn’t matter; that there were more affairs he better be tending to than yours; that you were only making a big deal out of this when it truthfully wasn’t.
Oh god, you felt like vomiting. Self-deprecation was getting the better of you.
He stood up and sauntered to the exit, not bothering to spare you a glance. “Come back to me when you actually know what you want to say.”
It was a matter of seconds when you ran to him, pulling him back rather harshly by the grip you had on his sleeve. He turned around due to the force to see your head still hung low, avoiding his gaze as always - only, your shoulders were quivering sporadically, and occasional sniffs were heard from your person.
“P-please, sensei...” you voiced out, shaken and horrifyingly delicate. “I-I’m so scared. Please.”
While he looked at you with contracted irises, countenance now alert from your unexpected disposition, you pulled your trembling hand out of your skirt pocket, nervously disclosing to him from your palm a small, black device with a tiny yet prominent lens.
“M-my room,” you heaved, “I-I saw this i-in my room, m-my closet, while- while I was dressing up, and I don’t know how long it had been in there but it probably already caught me bare and-”
You broke down in a flurry misery and shame, allowing yourself to fall to the ground but you didn’t - Aizawa seized you in his arms, his gentle, fatherly arms that could only do so much to console you from the horror of your reality. And he held your head as you cried on his chest, one little thing he could do after ignoring your situation and letting you think that your significance was less than the rest of his other students. At that moment, you were just so little, so fragile, so naïve he’d keep you in his pocket if he could. Why would someone do something as debauched as illegally recording your innocent self?
“I’m sor-sorry,” you sobbed, “I’m really telling the truth, p-please-”
“Shh, it’s okay. I don’t doubt you.” He reassured. Why were you apologizing? Were you that insecure of being a nuisance? No, no, you never were. Not to him. He reached for your hand to take the cursed device. “Since when did you find out?”
“J-just this morning.” You responded.
“Alright. Do you want to rest? This must have taken a huge toll on you.”
But you still had classes ongoing. Then again, you didn’t feel like looking at the faces of the prime suspects who possibly did you dirty, even when you knew that you’d have to eventually interact with them to get notes of your missed lessons. You were so tired from summoning the lot of your courage to confront your teacher regarding your problem, so you probably wouldn’t have the energy to listen to class discussion. Aizawa finalized your decision by pulling you up and guiding you towards the office of Recovery Girl who, after being briefed of your predicament by your homeroom teacher, welcomed you with a warm smile, telling you to make yourself comfortable in one of the beds in the infirmary.
He then made his way to 1A classroom, a newfound swelling of rage and disappointment in his chest, both forwarded to his class and to himself because only now did he realize that perhaps you were often so restless and apprehensive in the presence of your classmates because they did things that made you bury yourself in the deepest parts of your shell as a last attempt to revel in a sense of safety. Your timidity was not entirely derived from your own nature; it was also due to the maltreatment you were receiving from your classmates. Halting his steps by the classroom door, he looked through the glass window, seeing the class focusing on Midnight’s lecture.
Well, not quite. He could tell that your classmates were visibly affected by the lack of your presence, glancing at your desk from time to time as quiz papers were being passed behind - so they were in the middle of a test, he guessed. But that wasn’t his concern.
In impudent manner, he walked in amid Midnight’s talking, disregarding her face’s sudden morphing into vexation as the students gave him a look of confusion.
“Eraser, what are you-” she was rudely interrupted as Aizawa took the test reference papers from her hands. Something about Modern Hero Art History, he read. He faced his class with disdain, stating,
“Until someone confesses their crime of hiding a spy camera on (l/n)’s dorm room, all of you are receiving failing marks on this test.”
Quite suddenly, the class burst into violent upheaval, gasping, perking, some allowing the dreadful news of your situation to sink in, others letting out noises of complaint before actually taking consideration to the main point of Aizawa’s statement. Midnight stared at him in disbelief, but did nothing to stop his measures.
Momo abruptly stood. “I-is (y/n) okay? We should go check on her!”
“No, you shouldn’t.” Aizawa said. “All of you are suspects. You’ve no right to see her.”
“She probably just made that up get back on us for whatever fucking reason!” Yelled Bakugou.
“Yeah?” The male pro-hero disingenuously mused. He then picked up the spy camera and held it for everyone to see, before setting it down the teacher’s podium. “This was found on her closet. Would she risk recording herself naked just to prove that point?”
Noise died down thereafter, setting their sights solemnly at the device, the class collectively having the same thought in regards to the spy camera.
(Why hadn’t they thought of that? It could have been easier to check on you that way, since you almost always confined yourself in the privacy of your own room.)
“So? No one wants to speak up?” Aizawa asked, though expected the silence.
“Aizawa, have them approach you after classes. It’s embarrassing this way.” Midnight intervened.
“Well that’s the point. Get them exposed to the entire class, so everyone could realize how much of a perverted bastard one of these to-be heroes are. Good values, my ass.” He replied, not bothering to filter rather colorful vocabulary. “Where’s your dignity?”
He let a minute or two pass for the perpetrator to reveal themselves, but soon it became apparent that whomever they were refused to admit to their crime, willing to sacrifice the grades of the class for the sake of anonymity. That would be deemed useless, anyway, because Aizawa was already set on figuring out whom they were, no matter the extent he’d go to in order for that to happen. He’d expel them at once.
But he didn’t have the power to expel someone outside of his class.
“I guess that’s it for your test.” He sighed, disgruntled, picking up the small camera and sauntering his way out of the classroom after giving Midnight a look that he was dead serious with marking all of them a failing score. She stared at him in uncertainty, nonetheless abided by his decisions, albeit hesitantly.
Upon ascertaining his absence, Midnight turned to Class 1A, amusement and humor dancing on her seductive countenance.
“Naïve, hormonal teenagers,” she mused, “the closet, really? Couldn’t you have chosen somewhere less conspicuous?”
None of them bothered to tell her that they were truthfully unaware of the incident.
===
Hagakure Toru, stealth hero, entered your room silently in the nude, the only proof of her movements being a tinier, different spy camera she’d brought along with her. No, not the closet, you might find it again. It looked so painfully obvious on the desk, too, and neither in the bathroom due to its pale white interior.
But on the pencil holder situated atop your nightstand would do. You barely moved it, anyway, only having its purpose served as a decoration; something to fill the vacancy of the bedside table. After a few adjustments in camouflaging the device with the environment and making sure the lens displayed the area of your space, Hagakure checked its concealment one more time, before mechanically heading outside and back to her own dorm.
Her body collided almost violently with her room’s door, snapping her out of her trance.
“H-huh!? Weird... how’d I end up in my room?” She asked, receiving no answer from particularly anyone.
But Shinso Hitoshi could provide her one, if only he weren’t outside, staring at your terrace from five stories down your room, a gratifying smirk donned on his features. Now, the only thing he had to do was dismantle and relocate the gadgets wirelessly connected with the camera Aizawa had confiscated.
#bnha x reader#bakugou x reader#katsuki bakugo x reader#bakugou x you#bnha#boku no hero academia x reader#boku no hero academia#deku x you#midoriya izuku x reader#deku x reader#yandere x reader#yandere class 1a#class 1a x reader#reader insert#x reader#yandere bnha#uraraka x reader#momo x reader#uraraka ochako x reader#momo yaoyorozu x reader#yandere#yanderechuu
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What a Dumbass [P.P]
Summary: Peter’s mistake leads to you being injured.
Pairing: Peter Parker x Avenger!Reader
Word Count: 2.1K
Warnings: Swearing, like a substantial amount, suggestive content kinda, gun shot wound, and flustered!Peter
a/n: I really liked writing this. I couldn’t stop laughing at some of the dialogue. and the mistake peter made to cause the whole set-up of the story is so funny to me. like i can legit see him making this mistake. also, i’m gonna make a permanent tag list, so please send me an ask or message me if you want to be on it! <3
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
Peter Benjamin Parker is a fucking dumbass. All the time mostly. Most of the time his dumbassery leads to a lot of annoyed avengers, a lot of clean up, and a lot of spilled secrets. Hence why like three people who definitely shouldn’t know he is Spider-man do. But every once in while his idiocy can lead to an unexpected happily ever after, at least until he fucks something up again.
This particular fuck up has yet to be determined as a happy accident or your new 13th reason. It all started when that spider bitch decided it’d be a good idea to watch some explicit content on his laptop. Now, this wasn’t particularly an unknown activity for him to partake in, since we all know about his little impromptu purchase in Germany, but unbeknownst to this dork, his aunt was in the next room over working on a tear in his suit. And to make matters worse, he accidentally just so happened to purchase a subscription using said aunt’s credit card that was pre-setup in his laptop.
Now May is a very understanding woman. Very sex-positive, very loving, and inclusive; the whole shebang really. So when she happened to catch this idiot doing what he most certainly shouldn’t have been doing, she wasn’t mad, just thoroughly disturbed. Then she got the notification about the purchase. That was a bit more taboo in her eyes. So Peter was grounded from patrolling for a week and his laptop privileges were revoked for two weeks. That was fucking merciful compared to what this whole fuck up put you through.
At the school that following Monday, Peter spent the whole first, second, fourth, and lunch period trying to convince you to take over patrol for a week. Sure, you could definitely handle it, not to pat yourself on the back or anything, but you were significantly stronger than Peter, so it shouldn’t have been that big of a deal. But you just really didn’t want to. Peter had his ‘Peter Tingle’ to help him find danger, while you’d actually have to look. It just seemed harder for you to do than it would be for him.
“Why are you even grounded?” You sighed after Peter's 3rd time bringing up the possibility of you patrolling for him at lunch.
“He got caught watching and buying p—” Ned started laughing.
“Ned! Shut up!” Peter yelled, slapping his hand over his friend's mouth.
“How has your identity not been leaked yet, Jesus Christ.” You mumbled, giggling. You flipped through your chemistry textbook, writing notes to prepare for Friday’s quiz.
“Yeah, and how come you didn’t know May was home?” Ned pushed Peter’s hand away. “Where was your ‘Peter Tingle’ then?”
“She’s not a threat, dude. But shit, I really wish my tingle detected her.” Peter groaned, a deep blush covering his features. “Please (Y/N). I really, really don’t wanna leave Queens without any protection for a week. I’ll try to convince May to let me go out on the weekend, so really it’s only five days.”
“I guess I could help you out, but you owe me. I should really spend this time studying for my chemistry test. Iron bitch is gonna have my head on a spike if I fail another chem test.” You said, highlighting more notes.
“Okay! Delmar’s for a week, anytime, anywhere.” Peter said putting his hand out for you to shake.
“Make it a month, I know my worth.”
Peter hesitated, but eventually gave in, “Fine, but you better do a good job.”
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
So now you were stuck patrolling from 8:30 to 11:00 every night. It wasn't bad per se, and nothing too eventful happened. You stopped a small convenience store robbery, gave a few kids some tips at the skatepark, ran some errands for an old lady, and saved a cat from a tree. Thursday night was the real kicker though. Your night had barely started and you accidentally got in the middle of a drug deal between some smaller mob and a real messed-up junkie. This should’ve been an easy takedown, only six people in total that needed to be taken out, but like was mentioned before, you don’t have Peter’s goddamn, stupid fucking tingle. So after taking all six of the perps out you started to walk away after alerting the police. Unfortunately, one of those assclowns had come to, and grabbed the gun a few feet away from him and shot it towards you. The bullet went through your thigh and out the other side. Screaming in shock and pain, you used your own throwing knives and knocked the gun out of the mobster’s hand, then you proceeded to knock him out again with a few good punches to his noggin, maybe a few more, just for good measure. But this wound would need to be cleaned and stitched up. And if you went back to the Tower, Steve and Tony would give you an earful about “watching your surroundings” and “being more careful”. So in a moment of pure adrenaline and desperation, you texted Peter.
You: are you home
Spider-Dork: Yeah, why?
You: i’ll be there in 5
Spider-Dork: What? Why? Is everything ok?
Spider-Dork: Hello??? (Y/N)????
(Y/N) declined (3) calls
Spider-Dork: Answer my calls idiot.
Peter’s texting and constant calling was cut short from a crash in his room.
“(Y/N)? Is that you?” Peter called from the couch in the living room.
“Yeah, can I borrow a t-shirt?” You called, fumbling around accidentally knocking over another lamp. “Oops, sorry!”
“Uh, yeah sure. In the closet!” Peter called back pausing his show, prepared to make his way over to you.
“And some sweats?” You called back, blood dripping all over Peter’s hardwood floor.
Peter got up to make his way to his room. “Yeah, second drawer on the left side.” He said as he made his way to his bedroom. Knowing you were in there, most likely changing, he knocked. “You decent?”
“Nope, not really. I need a pair of your boxers too, though.” You called through the door, now seeing that the blood splattered on your underwear as well. “Also, bring the first aid kit when you come in.”
‘What? Why?” Peter said in a more stressed tone, pushing his way into the room, completely ignoring the fact that you were very much not decent. “Holy shit.” He said seeing you out of your suit, in your bra and underwear, blood dripping down your right leg, pooling onto the floor. Your hand, red and bloody, pressed onto what he only assumed was the wound and blood seeping through your fingers.
“Bring a mop too.”
Peter ran out of the room to grab the first aid kit, plus some extra bandages and a cleaning solution. When he came back in he found you in the same state, standing in the middle of the room, eyebrows furrowed in pain, clutching your right thigh.
“What the hell happened?” He gasped, motioning for you to sit on his bed. You hesitated, not wanting to mess up his sheets. He seemed to notice your thought process quickly adding, “I have to wash my sheets anyway.”
“Gross.” You mumbled, scrunching up your face in disgust and finally settling down on his bed.
“Move your hand and tell me what happened,” Peter said kneeling on the floor next to the bed, positioned right at your hips. You removed your hand, bloody instantly seeping onto the bed. Peter winced looking at the hole in your leg, quickly grabbing the peroxide and dumping heaps of it onto your leg, much to your distaste.
“I got shot.” You stated as he cleaned the blood around the hole with alcohol pads.
“Well, no shit. I mean by who and how?”
“Mobster. Sneaky bitch got me while I was walking away.” You winced as Peter inspected the wound further.
“I need to stitch this up. Did it go all the way through?” He said lifting your leg to look underneath for an exit wound.
“Yeah.” Peter found the exit wound and held your leg up with one hand, pouring peroxide on the back of your thigh with the other.
“You have to be more careful, (Y/N)! This looks really nasty.” Peter scolded, setting your leg back down and prepping the needle and sutures. “What if this was in your chest? Or—or if you didn’t get here in time? You could’ve bled out!”
“Well sorry that I don’t have your stupid tingle to help me out when I’m being fucking shot at!” You yelped, gripping the bedsheets.
“You don’t need spidey sense, you need fucking common sense,” Peter mumbled, stitching his first suture.
“What the fuck did you just say?” You looked at him incredulously.
“I— uh, nothing.” Peter huffed, focusing back on stitching you up.
“This is your all your fault, to begin with!” You accused, shifting uncomfortably, due to the needle constantly being stuck into your leg. “You’re the one that begged me to go on patrol for you! You’re the dumb bitch that got caught watc—”
“Ok! Shut up! For God’s sake, you’re never gonna let me live that down.” Peter groaned, finishing up the last stitch. “Flip over.” He commanded, pushing at the side of your waist to help with the movement.
“Well, it was fucking dumb. Don’t you check to make sure nobody’s home? God, we all know you’re a vocal bitch too.” You said, fully situated on your stomach.
“What the fuck is that suppose to mean!?” He gasped, prepping another needle.
“You’re a sensitive boy.” You shrugged, wincing when Peter started his next stitch.
“I-I am not sensitive! I’m emotionally and physically staunch!” He defended, going in for another stitch.
You just raised an eyebrow in amusement. “Sure, whatever you say, babe.” You winked at him, blowing an exaggerated kiss.
“You're a jerk,” Peter mumbled, finishing up his stitching job. “A jerk with a fucked up leg.”
You hummed, quite amused. Peter got up and started to collect his medical supplies. He shuffled out of the room to put everything away. When he returned you were trying to get up and walk, wincing at every slight movement.
“Here, let me just—” Peter lifted you up, bridal style. A small yelp coming from you when a sharp pain shot through your leg. “Sorry.”
“It’s fine. Can you help me get dressed?” You said as he walked you over to his desk and set you down in his desk chair.
“Sure.” Peter blushed, painfully aware of your lack of clothes. He picked out some clothes from his closet and drawers. He helped you into them, wallowing in the uncomfortable silence, taking in each whimper and wince from you whenever he brushed against your thigh.
“Fuck, I’m so sorry.” He sighed after you were all dressed. “This is my fault.”
You looked at his distraught face, feeling bad for initially blaming him for the events of tonight. “No, Pete. It’s fine. I should’ve made sure all of the guys were knocked out.” You put a hand on his shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze.
“No, I should’ve been more careful when I was watching that stuff. I have my spidey sense, I would’ve been able to avoid getting shot. It’s not your fault that you didn’t get bit by a radioactive spider.”
“Pete, really, I’ll be better by next week anyway. It’s fine.”
Peter shook his head, sighing. “I just feel so bad, I shouldn’t have forced patrolling on you.” You hugged him and rubbed his back soothingly. “It’s my fault you got hurt.”
“Peter stop. It’s just an unfortunate accident.” You mumbled, hugging him closer. “It could’ve happened to anyone.”
“But it didn’t happen to just anyone (Y/N), it happened to you. And I caused it. I-I don't know what I’d do if something ever happened to you. What if it was worse?”
You sighed, pulling away from Peter and cupping his face, seeing the regret and shame pooling in his eyes. Without much thought, you pulled him closer, slowly connecting your lips in a sweet kiss. Truly getting lost in the feeling of his lips against yours, the feeling of perfection.
Peter’s eyes widened in shock for a moment, before he was kissing you back, reveling in the feeling he’s been dreaming about for months. You finally pulled away to catch your breath. Peter flushed at your actions, unable to stop the wide smile crossing his features.
“Sorry,” You mumbled sheepishly, “just needed to shut you up for a second.”
“Maybe I should talk more, just to see what happens,” Peter smirked, pulling you in for another shorter, but just as sweet, kiss.
You hummed against his lips. “I really like you. Even when you're a dumbass.” You sighed against his lips.
“The feeling is mutual.”
“Rude. I’m not a dumbass.” You gasped in faux offense.
“You’re the one with a bullet wound.” he deadpanned
“You’re the one who got caught watchin—”
“(Y/N)!”
#avengers#peter parker fluff#peter parker x avenger!reader#peter parker x reader#spiderman x reader#spiderman x avenger!reader#spiderman fluff#tom holland spiderman#marvel#marvel fic#peter parker fic
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sarah i have thought of another fic request or like a cute idea i guess! i didn’t have anyone in mind when i thought of it so you can write it for whoever you want honestly :)
okay so the reader is a streamer but streams games like animal crossing, standew valley, etc. then (insert who you’re writing for) says they don’t like that game, but later ends up buying it and the reader is like “i thought you said you didn’t like this game” and they’re like “well i like you” and they confuses their feelings and they end up playing the game together and reader gives them a tour of their island or farm
i feel like this request isn’t good, but the scenario seemed cute and i wanted to share it. sorry if this is confusing or just too specific cuz i know it can be hard to write requests like that! but yeah i hope it gives you inspiration and you like the request <3
new horizons
warnings: language, a Marvel reference (hint: natasha said it about tony), stupid idiots who don’t realize they like each other, use of pet names, Uno rage, Hasan Piker's presence
words: 1473
tags: sapnap x gn!reader
A/N: i’ve been trying to catch up a little on my requests (i’ve only got a couple so i’m not super overwhelmed) but school and outside life has been taking up most of my time so this one took me a while to make! tbh— ive never played animal crossing so i did google some of the game mechanics and i apologize if anything is inaccurate about the game…. but i liked relaxing and writing this cute one so thank you for requesting hails :3
requests/inbox status: open
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“This game is trash.”
Your head quirks, fingers stopped on the screen. You’re in the process of giving your character a cute new nickname; it’s kind of hard to decide between “awkward dude” and “elderly skater”.
“Excuse me?” Your chat comes alive with emotes and ‘KEKW’s, obviously entertained by you and your almost-more-than-friends-friend.
There’s a story for that later.
Sapnap’s rough laugh comes through your headset and he audibly swallows, the sound of a water bottle dropping onto his desk echoing.
“I’m just saying—it’s boring. It’s like Minecraft but you don’t like… do anything.” The grainy image of his bearded face shifts and you see him pull out his phone.
“It’s— you can’t even compare it to Minecraft! It’s a completely different game system—you actually interact with other people live in the game.” You huff out a dramatic sigh, slumping in your chair with a pout. “Just because you go into this lucid state where all you know is ‘touch block, hit George’ doesn’t mean this game isn’t fun.” (He scoffs at your awful impression of his voice. Your viewers love it.)
“Jeez,” he mumbles, fumbling with the cap of his water bottle. “Touched a nerve there, bud.”
You roll your eyes, getting back to the village in the game.
“Don't ‘bud’ me.”
The call falls comfortably quiet, the sounds of him tapping obsessively on his phone and you clicking away filling the silence. A gentle bedroom-pop YouTube playlist remains in the background, prompting you to hum along and glance at the chat to see a flood of “check twitter” and “Y/N TWITTER!!”.
“What happened on Twitter?” You mumble, confused, and pull the website up on another monitor. Sapnap just makes a curious noise, swinging back and forth in a circle. “Oh my God,” you say to yourself, fingertips brushing your parted lips.
“What?”
“Hasan Piker just followed me and retweeted one of my not even remotely political old tweets. Like from a year ago.”
“That’s— wow. Congrats?” Sapnap’s voice cracks, and his ears flush pink the tiniest bit when you glance at his face on Discord.
“I’m gonna go on record and say that he could get it.” You shake your head in disbelief.
Sapnap falls uncharacteristically non-hyper-verbal, so you look past the frenzied chat and to his screen— wait. He muted and turned his camera off.
“Um,” you start, furiously typing question marks in your private chat. “Where’d you go?” You mute and turn screen share off for your stream, concerned that he might’ve fallen off his chair and broken his neck and needs you to call the ambulance.
The characteristic ding of a twitter notification sounds through your bedroom, and you look at your phone quickly.
“That’s where I went.”
Sapnap Tweeted: “all Y/U stans can choke on my dick”.
“Jesus, Sapnap,” you say, and rapidly refresh to read the replies. This tweet was deleted. “That’s so— that barely makes sense, bro. Why— literally what?”
His snicker floods your ears and you relax in your chair. Crisis: averted. “Don’t fucking— what’s wrong with you?”
“I thought it would be funny,” he offers, shrugging, and fiddles with the straw in his water bottle, smile fading. “And also Hasan pisses me off.”
“Why, ‘cause he wants a piece of this? Jealous?” You think back to your viewers, knowing they’re probably spamming question marks and coming to ludacris conclusions about both of your absences. No offense to them. You remember your stan days very vividly.
“I mean, kinda.” He rubs once at his nose, glancing at the camera (and what feels like you) before taking a sip from his water bottle.
“Wow.” You watch one strand of his hair fall from beneath his hat and brush against his full eyebrows. “I’m uh—I’ll get back to my stream. You coming? Or is it time for a Sapnap-snack?”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” He snorts and leans his chin onto the balance of his arm.
“That means you like to take a little snack break mid-stream and come back approximately nine hours later and you didn’t even eat.”
“You know what— fuck you.” He flicks the camera as you laugh at the look on his face.
The teasing mood is easily kept as you switch games from Animal Crossing to Uno, all the while slamming Sapnap with +4’s and skipping the newly-arrived BadBoyHalo at any chance you can get. It unironically pisses him off and he has to take a Sapnap-snack break midway through (only a fifteen minute break this time, during which you and Bad take a “What Kind of Bread Are You?” quiz). The rest of the night is filled with devious cackles (you), loud and sudden bangs that sound suspiciously like someone hitting their desk in anger (Sap) and the stupid barking of Rat, AKA Lucy (Bad). She’s cute but a menace to the sound quality of Bad’s microphone. You sign off stream around 2 a.m. with various forms of thanks and kisses blown to the camera. It’s been a refreshing night, actually; you’ve been busy organizing a partnership stream all week and all your friends have been busy filming or editing or what-not. Quackity had time for a little Roblox every couple of days, though. He’s got your back.
The next time you see Sapnap is after a two hour stream of him try-harding in Valorant and you finishing responding to an email from your partnership in the VC.
“Okay, I’m back.” You hear him shift in his chair and click a couple more times on his keyboard. You perk up in your chair, closing the email browser you’d been looking at.
“Do you want to play anything else? I’m down for anything.”
“Absolutely not Uno. You can go to hell for giving me 6 cards that one time,” he jabs. You scoff, crossing your arms and leaning back in your chair.
“Okay, the +4 was on me but it’s Bad who gave you the last two. That’s not my fault, sweetie.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he mumbles, trailing off as the clicking of his keyboard stops. “Hey, um—Guess what?”
Your heart beats loud in your ears at the tone of his voice. He sounds nervous; that’s never good.
“I’m scared to guess,” you try, playing with a little Minecraft dog figurine you have on your desk with fidgety fingers. “What?”
“I bought Animal Crossing.”
Silence. You stare at his discord icon blankly, trying to reroute the wires of your brain.
“Tell me you love it.”
“Well… I haven’t actually played it— but you said you liked it, so.”
“So,” you repeat him, ears warming but continuing on. “Is that what you tell all your friends when you buy something they like? That it's because of them?”
He seems to choose his next words carefully, pausing a beat to consider your questions.
“Well, I don’t have a crush on all of my friends.”
“You—what?” You stutter, caught off guard and stumbling. What did he just say? “Don’t tell me you mean you have a crush on me.”
“I’m almost positive I just did.” His discord icon stares right back at you, taunting.
“You know, you’re very casual for someone who just admitted they like-like me.” Your cheeks flush pink and you have to press a hand to your chest to keep your breathing sounding stable.
“Yeah, I’m kind of cool like that,” he offers, a huff of a laugh punctuating his statement. The conversation moves into a lull that you can’t help but know is because of you. He must expect you to say something about it, right?
“You are very cool, Sapnap.” You tilt back in your chair, sucking in a breath to prepare yourself for your next words. “And—Isortakindofhaveacrushonyoutoo.”
He must understand you, for you can hear the grin in his voice when he asks “Really?”
“Y-yeah.” You feel like a preteen again, all shaky and giddy in front of the boy you just asked to a middle school dance.
“Um, alright. What do we do now?”
“I don’t know,” you answer genuinely and swing in a happy little circle in your chair. “We could play Animal Crossing.”
“I’m down.”
You swear you’ve never heard more beautiful words.
He keeps his camera off for most of the time you two play, too focused on creating his island and asking you questions about how to fish to turn it on. He silently flips it on when you help him decorate his lawn, needing to show you in real-time the decorations he has bought and where you think he should put them. He looks cute. I mean, of course he does. He always does.
You tell him goodbye late in the night, eyes saying a little more than just “see you tomorrow”.
You like him. He likes you.
It’s even better when you two have matching gardens.
-
A/N: anybody and everybody (especially my precious hailey) let me know what you think!! :]
#sapnap#mcyt#sapnap x gn!reader#sapnap x reader#sapnap x you#sapnap fluff#sapnap drabble#sapnap oneshot#bubblyhoneyfics#honey answers#mcyt x reader#🥚except small
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Invisible
Warnings: Angst, Insecurity & Self-doubt, Language
Summary: The reader stays with Tom and his friends during quarantine. To protect her from media and fans, the reader can’t been seen in any social media posts. It leads to her feeling more and more lonely and isolated until she can’t take it anymore.
Words: 2.6k
Pairings: Tom Holland x reader
A/N: I wrote this when Tom hosted the marvel pub quiz, but completely forgot to post it!
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"That's it. Thank you for joining and taking part in the quiz! I hope you had as much fun as we did and don't forget to post your answers using the hashtag massive marvel pub quiz so we can find your answers easier. Stay safe and healthy. Bye guys!"
You watched as Tom's face disappeared and the live stream ended.
But the excitement that you had felt when you had first heared of the idea of a marvel quiz was gone. Now you just felt empty. And alone.
You knew that you were overreacting, after all Tom and the others were just a few rooms away, but you couldn't help and feel left out. Again.
You weren't invited to join the live stream in the first place so why join them know?
You knew that Tom only wanted to protect you and himself by keeping you out of the public's eye. If they found out that a female in his age was spending the time during quarantine at his house, they would go wild. You could already imagine the headlines that would follow.
After all Tom had exerperienced how far his ‘fans’ and the media would go when a photo of him and Olivia had gone viral.
Only a few blurry images and both Tom and Olivia had been attacked for weeks, even so far that the girl had to make her instagram private, yet the hate comments never stopped.
And Tom knew that he would never risk the chance of you having to read through pages of hate comments of people that didn't even know you. Because if they did, they knew they could never hate you.
You were kind and loving and you cared a little too deeply.
Tom still remembered when you had called him crying, because you didn't feel confident enough to go out after some girls in your class had made it their mission to target all your insecurities and make mean comments whenever you passed them.
He still remembered the anger and hate he felt inside of him when he listened to your sobbing and how the girl's words had gotten to you, to the point you even believed them.
So when you had moved in with him and the boys, he had decided to keep you out of everything that could reveal to the world that you were living with them. You had agreed without a second doubt, because in that moment it seemed the only rational and responsible thing to do.
Now you weren't so sure anymore, because it hurt so much to be invisible every day. You had gotten used to the fact that you could only watch their instagram stories, live streams and tik toks without being able to join them. But what hurt you even more were the little things.
"Hey y/n, could you leave the room for a sec? You are always in the background of the video!"
A second often turned into hours and soon you found yourself retreating to your room more and more to avoid having to leave and get hurt again.
Yesterday you had decided to do a little game night and you felt so carefree that you came to the conclusion that you were being ridiculous and should rather enjoy the time with them instead of obsessing over your feelings. But then you had laughed over something that had been said and Tom has sighed, dropping his phone.
"Great, now I have to delete that, because you were laughing in the background", he stated, clearly frustrated and you felt heat rushing to your cheeks.
"I'm sorry", you mumbled but it sounded more like a question than a sincere apologzy, because really, what where you even apologizing for? Harrsion had leaned over to get a better look at Tom's phone. "That would have been a great post, mate!"
You adverted your eyes, starring at the table and analysing the natural pattern of the wood to try and distract yourself from the embarassment and the tears that had filled your eyes. "I know right", Tom sighed again and you crounched down in your seat even more.
"I will do that again now so you have to be completely quiet now y/n, got it?
You wanted to scream at them, because you weren't dumb and yet they were treating you like a child that had misbehaved and was now lectured. But you only gulped and nodded, fearing that if you said something, your voice would break and reveal how hurt you really felt.
While they recorded the story again, you listened to their loud laughter as you fought back the tears.
Eventually you excued yourself, mumbling something about having a headache, but you doubted that they even noticed.
Now you could hear them laugh again and even though Tom's laugh was one of your favorite sounds, it now cut deeper into your heart like a knife.
You were still staring at your phone screen where you saw photos of answer sheets already popping up. You had gotten around 20 answers right, but you didn't feel proud.
When Tom had told you about the marvel quiz you had been beyond excited. Since you could remember you loved the marvel movies. Your rooms had been filled with posters and other merchandise and your friends only rolled their eyes when you suggested to watch a marvel movie during your movie nights.
You had build your knowdlege over the years and loved to challenge Tom, who thought of himself as a big marvel fan as well, regarding who knew more about the marvel cinematic universe.
So when he came up with the idea of a marvel live quiz, you insisted to take part and therefore hear the questions for the first time during the stream so you had the same chance as everyone else.
But as soon as Harry and Harrison had joined the live stream your enthusiasm had faded. They were having so much fun and you were sitting in your room, all on your own. The familiar feeling of loneliness and self doubt had accompained you the rest of the live stream and now that it had ended you just wanted to crawl under the covers and weep into your pillow.
Maybe you were clingy and needy and overthinking again, but you couldn't help the overwhelming sadness and you began to doubt if staying with Tom was a mistake and if your friendship meant more to you than the others.
Maybe you should pack your things tomorrow and tell Tom that you needed to go home. He would understand if you claimed to miss the comfort of being at your home but then again, you would be even more lonely.
Frustrated you threw your phone on the nightstand and quickly changed into your pajamas before crawling into bed.
In the darkness of the room the disappointment felt even more overwhelming and you grabbed onto your pillow for comfort.
A knock made you freeze and your heart started pouding in your chest. You prayed that the person would leave you alone and go away if you pretended to be asleep so you stayed silent.
"Y/n?"
It was Tom's voice.
"We want to watch a movie. Wanna join us?"
You knew that he wouldn't go away until the got an answer so you dismissed your plan and braced yourself to speak.
"No, I am tired, but thanks." You hoped that Tom didn't notice how nervous you sounded and after an agonizing moment of silence you could hear him mutter an "okay" and walk away.
Did you imagine it or did he sound disapppointed? Now feeling guilty too, you covered your face in your hands in frustration.
Why did everything have to go wrong?
And wait...did you still have your make-up on?
You let out a sound of frustration when you realized that you had to get up again to wipe off your make-up. You had applied it because you wanted to feel your best during the quiz you had been so excited for, but now it meant walking all the way to the bathroom.
Which meant leaving your room again.
You slowly opened your door, peeking out to check if the corridors were empty. You proceeded to tiptoe to the bathroom and closed the door behind you while relief flooded you. You really didn't want to meet anyone now, not when you felt like breaking into tears every second.
When you looked into the mirror and began to wash your make-up off, you allowed yourself to let the tears flow. A few sobs escaped your mouth, but the bathroom was far enough from the living room so they wouldn't be able to hear you.
Without the make-up on, you felt a little more relaxed and you couldn't wait to get into bed again.
But when you reached your room without running into anyone on the way, you were more than surprised to see that once you had closed the door and turned around, you weren't alone.
Tom was sitting on your bed, looking up at you when you entered the room.
You could conclude from the frown that covered his face that you looked as horrible as you felt. Your eyes were probably still puffy and red from the crying and your hair was in a messy bun.
"Tom?", you stuttered, too shocked to come up with something that would save you from this conversation. "What are you doing here?", you added, hating how weak your voice sounded.
His frown grew even deeper and he mustered your apperance, hurt visible in his eyes.
"You were so excited for the quiz so when you didn't leave your room I grew worried", he explained while you akwardly stood next to the door, leaving as much space between the two of you as possible.
"Oh that- I just didn't feel good so I decided to sleep early today", you tried to brush it off, but you knew that Tom would not fall for it.
"Why have you been crying?"
His question was acommpanied by a stern gaze and you couldn't help feeling guilty and ashamed.
"I- I wasn't", you stuttered, but it didn't even sound believable to your own ears. Tom raised his eyebrow, but when he saw how uncomfortable you looked his features softened.
"Hey, you can talk to me, you know that right? Whatever it is, you can tell me and we can figure this out together." His voice was so gentle and caring that tears filled your eyes again and you silently cursed yourself for being so emotional.
You didn't want to cry in front of Tom. It would not be the first time and when it had happened he had always managed to make you feel better and put a smile on your face again, but you also knew the shame that would follow afterwards.
You didn't want him to think that you were too sensitive.
But the tears weren't only a result of your hurt, no, anger was building inside of you at his words. "Really Tom, really?", you snapped and he flinched in surprise.
"Are you sure you want me to talk to you? Maybe someone is filming an instagram story and I could be heard in the background so I should just say nothing at all. Or even better, why don't I just leave the room so there is a lesser chance that I could ruin your precious masterpieces by just existing."
Tom's eyes had widened at your outburst and you actually felt bad for a second, but then you remembered the many occasions he had made you feel like you weren't good enough and the anger came back.
"You know what? I think it would be best if I just went home. I am done being treated like an outsider and being blamed for everything I do!"
Tom had jumped up from the bed and was crossing the distance between the two of you with large steps, but you raised your hands before he could come closer to you.
"Y/n I am so sorry", he stumbled over his words, desperately trying to find the right words. "I didn't realize- I never would have..." Frustrated he ran a hand through his hair.
"Listen, I screwed up! I didn't realize that my behaviour- that I was hurting you and I am so sorry! I just wanted to protect you and now I am the one making you feel this way. Fuck, I am so sorry!"
His words seemed geniune and your heart ached to step forward and pull him into a hug, but you knew that you could not forget so easily.
"I didn't think that this was so important to you. Why didn't you say anything?" He was rubbing the back of his head, seemingly tensed.
"I don't care much about not being in the stories Tom. But it really hurt whenever I am send away so you can film together or when I am told to shut up so I can't be heard while you all have fun together”, you explained, trying to keep your vice even.
“I just feel like I am a burden to you and if you don't want to spend time with me that's fine I guess but I would appreciate for you to tell me that so I can stop trying and just go home."
"No, no, no it's not like that I swear!” Tom seemed desperate again, articulating with his hands to underline his words.
“I miss spending time with you, I really do and it was stupid of me to let myself being dragged into this whole instagram thing!
You know I am normally not the person to care much about posting, but I thought now that everyone is stuck at home, I could make my fans happy and distract them from the situation by sharing more of my life. I should have never put them before you and I am truly sorry!” You could see the regret clearly in his eyes as he took in a deep breath.
“Please don't go."
You were biting your lip as you were trying your best to stay calm and not break into tears. You had imagined confronting Tom and letting all your anger and hurt out, but now that he stood in front of you with his eyes full of hurt and regret and his pleading words for you to stay, your anger vanished.
"Are you sure?", you asked him in uncertainty, because you knew you couldn't bare if nothing would change. But Tom desperately nodded. "I am. Tomorrow I am going to post a photo to let my fans now that I am taking a break from social media!"
He looked so determined, so sure, that a warm feeling filled you. "You would do that?"
"Of course! I want to make it up to you and besides I was not lying when I said that I miss spending time with you”, he stated, stepping a little closer to you when you didn’t protest anymore.
“You were so distant the last days and I didn't know what to do, so I thought that I should give you space. Seems like that is the last thing I should have done", he sayed with a sheepish smile covering his face.
"Sorry for being so caught up in myself. I should have said something earlier too", you admitted, a small smile forming on your lips, when you felt the burden fall off your shoulders.
"Hug?", Tom suggested and you didn't have to think twice about it.
When he wrapped his strong arms around you, you realized that going back to your place would have been a mistake. Because at some point your home hadn't been a place anymore. Instead it had become a person and you didn't plan on letting go any time soon.
----
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Improbability
Rowaelin Month, Day 26: You’re seeing my roommate and accidentally walked into my shower. Featuring Sam and Rowan as roommates. :)))
Word count: 1542
Warnings: language, little bit of math gobbledygook that I stole from my stats class.
Enjoy!
~~~~
“Mate, you alright with my girlfriend coming over today?” Sam called out to his roommate. “We’re probably going out, but I asked her over here first.”
Rowan pulled out one of his earbuds and stuck his head out his bedroom door. “Yeah, that’s totally fine, just for God’s sake warn me if you’re going to do the dirty on our couch, bud.”
“THAT WAS ONE TIME!” Sam yelled, “and I was 100 percent sure you had football!”
“It’s called soccer, Cortland!” Rowan laughed, never missing the chance to poke at his British roommate.
“Whatever, mate. You’re good with Ae hanging out here for a bit, yeah?”
“Sure am. She’s a fun person.” Rowan put his earbud back in and returned to doing his homework, or rather, swearing at his statistics textbook. Some fifteen minutes later, he heard the door of his and Sam’s dorm open.
“Anybody home?” enquired a throaty female voice. “Someone told me he was at home, but obviously he’s too busy to go out today. Guess I’ll just go drink with the girls, then.”
“And leave me lonely?” Sam asked.
Aelin Galathynius, who’d been dating Sam for almost two years now, smiled. “Never.”
He returned the grin and pulled her into the living room, where their conversation faded into a blur of noise too dim for Rowan to interpret. Not that he minded…much. Aelin was hilarious, though, and he loved hearing her make cracks at Sam’s British habits, her friends, her day, and pretty much anything else she thought deserved a snarky comment.
Slamming his stats book closed, Rowan huffed a sigh and decided that he could use a quick shower to relax a little before heading out to training. He grabbed his towel and a bar of soap and went into the tiny dorm shower, which was low enough that he, at 6’3,” had to crouch to fit under the shower head. Grumbling to himself about the stupidity of whatever idiot architect designed dormitory showers, he stood under the stream of hot water and tried to make sense of all he still had to do. Which was too much. After somewhere around five minutes, he stuck his head out of the shower, realizing the dorm had gone awfully quiet.
Maybe Sam and Aelin were out, then, he thought.
Rowan turned off the shower and reached for his towel, giving himself a quick dry-off before stepping out. He was just wrapping the towel around his waist when the door swept open.
“Oh, shit, sorry, I didn’t realize you were in here!” gasped Aelin.
Rowan gaped at her, forgetting that the only thing between her and a prime view of what he may or may not have been doing in the shower was a dark green bath towel.
A too-thin green bath towel.
Aelin’s turquoise eyes traveled down his frame, decidedly not missing a single detail. A pink flush spread over her cheekbones, and she hastily backed out of the bathroom and shut the door with a firm click.
Rowan swallowed whatever he’d thought he might have said and told his raging male hormones to calm the hell down. Quickly, before anyone else could walk in on him, he pulled on his practice jersey and sweats and went back to his room, where he grabbed his soccer bag and hauled ass for the gym.
He spent the entire 90-minute workout trying and miserably failing to get the image of Aelin Galathynius in her unfairly attractive blouse and miniskirt blushing at his nearly-nude self out of his mind. When he got back to his dorm, having showered in the locker room, this time without anyone interrupting, Sam and Aelin were gone. Sam had left a note on his bedroom door, stating that he’d probably be back around three. Checking his watch, Rowan groaned. It was almost two, and he’d broken down and signed up for stats tutoring at four.
He just hoped that whoever the tutor was, they’d be able to help him get his mathematical shit together and pass the course.
~
Two hours later, Rowan walked into the library and took a seat in the study room marked with a sign that read “STATS 320 TUTORING 4 PM.” Nobody else was there, but to be fair, he was a little early. He plopped his textbook, notebook, and calculator onto the table and waited.
And nearly fell off his chair when Aelin Galathynius walked into the room.
“What the hell?”
“What the hell, what?” she asked, obviously amused at his reaction.
“I--I didn’t expect to see you here, that’s what the hell. You here for tutoring too?”
“Yes and no.” Rowan blinked in confusion. Aelin’s little smirk grew bigger. “I am the tutor, Rowan. You’re here for my assistance…and expertise.” She winked.
He felt himself flush at the image that conjured. “Yeah, expertise, in stats, right?” He knew full well he was stammering like a fourteen-year-old on his first date, but that about summed up how his roommate’s girlfriend made him feel right now.
“Correct.” Just like that, Aelin was all business. She set her backpack down, closed the door, and sat across from Rowan. “So. How can I help?”
He sighed. “I’m stuck. I need this class, it’s the last math I have to take for my major, I’m usually decent at math, and I’m fucking stuck on a concept my professor said was fucking simple.”
Aelin listened to his mini rant without comment. She pulled out her own stats notebook and calculator from her backpack and slipped on a pair of glasses. Rowan cocked his head.
“I didn’t know you wore glasses.”
“Reading glasses, Whitethorn. I’m supposed to wear them whenever I’m reading, on my laptop, or studying, but do I? Hell no.” She grinned. “Don’t tell my optometrist.”
“Given that I don’t know them, no problem.” He returned her grin.
She flexed her fingers and turned her attention to Rowan’s math. “Right, big bad soccer boy. Where are you stuck?”
He flipped his book to the section on conditional probability distributions. “Here. I took notes, and it seemed logical enough, but I completely tanked the quiz we just had, and I don’t know where I went wrong.”
Aelin scanned the quiz. “You’re reading the graphs wrong.”
“What?”
“Conditional probability is the probability of an event occurring given that a certain condition is satisfied.” She opened her notebook to a blank page and drew a horizontal line. “Any time you see a condition, that condition goes in the denominator.” She pointed to one of the problems he’d answered wrong on the quiz. “What’s this question asking you to determine?”
“Probability that a student chosen at random is an engineer given that the selected student is female.”
“Right. So, you take the condition, the ‘given,’ and put that number in the denominator. Remember you’re only looking at the row labeled ‘female,’ because that’s the condition. Once the condition’s written in, you find the other part of the question, in this case the number of female engineers. Put that number in the numerator, divide by the denominator, and there you have the probability. Does that make sense?”
“Condition in the denominator…” Rowan mumbled, writing it in his notes. He looked up at Aelin and smacked his hand flat on the table. “Aelin, I’m a fucking idiot. I spent so much time trying to look at the totals that I didn’t remember to keep the condition, I--goddammit, I’m stupid.”
“You’re not stupid, Rowan, lots of people struggle with conditional probability at first.”
“I’ll bet you didn’t.”
“Oh, I did. A lot.”
“Really? But you just explained this shit to me better than my professor.”
“I…I happen to like stats. Might be part of my major description, but I just find working with the numbers extremely satisfying.”
“What’s your major?” he asked, intrigued.
“Don’t judge me.”
“Nope. Promise.”
“I’m in finance.”
His eyebrows shot up. “I’m impressed.”
She blushed. “Thanks. It’s a lot of stats and spreadsheets and yelling at each other about the stock market, but I really love it.”
“You’re making me look bad; I’m just your standard pre-PT student athlete”
“Standard pre-PT student athlete,” she mocked, “don’t sell yourself short, Whitethorn. Pre-PT is nothing shabby.”
“Yeah, but not remembering a stupidly easy math concept sure as hell is.”
She snickered. “Fair enough. Is there anything else I can help you with, or is that all for this session?”
He flipped through his notes. “That’s all I had for today, but I’ll probably be back at some point whining about another tricky concept.”
Aelin grinned, closing her notebook. “Wait until you get into chi-squared models. I’ll be here then, waiting for all the stats students to come crying to me while I plug seventeen equations into my spreadsheet and hope it actually calculates the quarterly interest this time.”
Rowan shook his head. “You lost me at ‘chi-squared,’ Aelin.”
“Oh, trust me, it’s fun.”
“As much fun as you and Sam have?”
Her voice dropped to a sultry purr. “Your couch would know.”
Before he could sputter out a response, she’d shouldered her backpack and was walking out the door. Rowan watched Aelin Galathynius leave, wondering how fast he could make up an excuse to talk to his roommate’s brilliant girlfriend again.
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One of Those Days
__
Draco Malfoy x Hufflepuff! Reader
Warnings: Language.
Request: hi!!! I’d love to see one where it’s Draco x a female Hufflepuff reader who had a rough day of classes and just wants comfort so lots of tooth rotting fluff pls thank u🥺love your writing! @thatsassyhufflepuff
Word Count: 2,871
“Today was terrible.”
__
Academics at Hogwarts aren’t exactly meant to be a walk in the park. It takes lots of repeated practice and skill to master the materials taught to young students. Every wizard and witch is unique in that they each have a subject that speaks to them and is easiest to them. For someone like Neville Longbottom, the ins and outs of Herbology always seemed to suit him best. The famous Harry Potter always had a knack for Defense Against the Dark Arts. For Hermione Granger....well, everything seemed to come easy to her.
But even someone as academically gifted as Hermione had days where classes were just impossible to bear.
Your day had already gotten off on the wrong foot when you woke up almost fifteen minutes late for your first class because your alarm clock didn’t go off for some mysterious reason. You always set your alarm for the same exact time every single day (even on weekends) and of course it decided not to go off on a day where you had Advanced Potions first period.
You had stayed the night with Draco in his single prefect room, so it was even worse that you still had to make a mad dash to the Hufflepuff tower to get ready for the day. Draco had been abruptly stirred from his peaceful sleep when you leapt out of bed to grab your stuff, and he whined out when he suddenly didn’t have his favorite girl to snuggle with.
Despite his pleas and begs, you declined him cuddles and rushed out of his room before you totally missed Potions all together.
At least if it had been Herbology or Transfiguration, you could’ve convinced Professor Sprout or McGonagall to let it slide considering you were almost never late or missed a class.
Trying to plead your innocence to Professor Snape was a whole different matter.
“Ah, Miss [L/N],” Snape’s voice bellowed out when you came rushing into the Potions classroom, barely even dressed; “I’m very pleased that you found time to allow Potions into your schedule.”
Usually the other students in the class might snicker at someone else being called out by the Potions master, but based on how no one dared to even glance at you, you got the notion that you weren’t the only one having a rough morning. You snagged your usual seat, setting your bag down and unpacking your materials as quickly as possible to make up for lost time.
“I’m sorry, Professor. I just overslept.” You muttered, sitting awkwardly at your desk.
Snape let out a hum of disapproval, looking your disheveled frame over. He turned his attention back to the class as a whole.
“As I was saying: since none of you successfully completed the homework reading, I see no choice but to assign a quiz.” He announced.
Your head shot up from its lowered position, your jaw falling open slightly.
Your class of Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws erupted into scattered groans and complaints, knowing good and well that they were about to botch this quiz. Snape was a man of his word, producing a ridiculously hard quiz and putting it forth in front of everyone. The quiz was insanely difficult and the questions were so specific that you weren’t even sure if you would have been able to do well even if you HAD read the reading.
You answered the best you could and at least made an attempt to give some kind of answer for each question. That couldn’t be said for everyone in class, however. You were pretty sure you spotted Padma Patil turning in a blank quiz. The rest of the class period was dull and hazy, everyone depressed knowing that they had just tanked a critical grade.
While you were the last one into the classroom, you made it a point to be the first one out. While Potions had put a damper on the start to your day, you were hopeful that the rest of the day would be smooth sailing.
You couldn’t have been any more wrong.
You had Charms with Flitwick next, and even though you were right on time, you just couldn’t seem to do well. You couldn’t produce a single spell correctly, and if you did produce a spell, it was completely the wrong one. By the end of class, you had accidentally casted a Colovaria charm on Cedric Diggory, turning him a deep shade of purple. While the purple adorned his black and yellow robes nicely, purple was definitely not his color.
Professor Flitwick was able to return Cedric back to his normal skin shade, but you were far humiliated at that point. Cedric, being the gentleman that he was, brushed it off as if you hadn’t just almost permanently stained his complexion. Cedric (aside from Draco) was your best friend, and so he wouldn’t mind being the color of a grape at the hands of you.
“Bad day for you too, huh?” Cedric asked as you exited Charms, checking the back of his hand once more to make sure he didn’t change colors again.
“Yeah. I just can’t seem to get it together today.” You admitted, rubbing your temples in hopes of relieving your oncoming headache.
Cedric nodded as he walked with you to your next class.
“You’re not the only one. I heard that Luna accidentally changed Lavender into a caterpillar in Transfiguration. Not a pretty sight apparently.” Cedric told you.
You shuddered at the thought. You could only imagine what choice words Lavender had to say when she was back in human form. While you were relieved that you weren’t the only one having a whirlwind of a day, it didn’t make things any easier.
In Herbology, you dropped and shattered one of Professor Sprout’s favorite plant pots, and while she assured you it was fine, you were sure that you saw her almost shed a tear over the lost pottery. You apologized profusely, but nothing really seemed to make her feel better.
DADA was your final class of the day, and it wasn’t exactly a winner either. While nothing exactly went wrong, you did receive your latest essay grade and it was less than a passing grade. You weren’t the only one who failed it, because you noticed several papers marked with a huge red “F” at the top. Your spirit had been broken for the day along with many others, and you were thanking whoever was listening that you had the weekend to recover.
Dinner was unusually quiet at all the House tables. Everyone seemingly kept their heads down and voices low as everyone ate a decent meal. You sat at the very end of the table with your head in your hand as you picked around at what was on your plate. You didn’t have much of an appetite after the day you had. Your mood was rather sour and damper, and you wanted nothing more than to go back to your dorm and crawl into bed to sleep off this horrible school day.
But it was a Friday, and you almost always stayed with Draco in his room on weekends. If nothing else, you could hopefully get a little loving from your Slytherin boyfriend.
You dragged yourself to his room, silently praying that nothing else went wrong between your commute from The Great Hall to his dorm. You felt like you had a dark cloud hovering and following you around, which was not normal behavior at all. Draco wasn’t back yet, but you let yourself in and made yourself at home, knowing he’d be back soon. You snorted at how he didn’t even bother to make his bed before leaving, his sheets all akimbo and thrown around the bed.
You slid your Hufflepuff robes off of your shoulders as well as changed out of the rest of your clothes until you were down to your panties and the tank top you had on underneath. Draco’s bed was calling your name, and honest you were sure you could’ve been asleep before he even had the chance to get back.
You slid under his covers, bringing your knees to your chest as you cocooned yourself with his array of sheets and blankets. His room was perfectly quiet, which was all you wanted in that moment. The day’s events kept playing over and over in your head as you laid there, wishing you didn’t feel so crummy.
Draco entered his room, cursing the door for making such a horrid squeak when he opened it.
“Darling, I had the best day today. You’re never going to- [Y/N]?” Draco called, realizing you weren’t in sight.
He immediately chuckled when he noticed the trail of clothing leading to his bed. If he hadn’t been paying attention, he easily could’ve missed the way the ball of bed sheets were moving each time you took a breath and exhaled. You grumbled to yourself at his jubilant entrance. Of course Draco had a great day when everyone else had a bad one.
He slipped his shoes off and closed the door behind him, approaching the bed carefully. You were completely under the covers, shielding yourself from the unpredictable outside world.
“[Y/N], are you alive in there?” The blonde-headed boy joked, peeling back the covers so he could see you.
His amusement faded when he saw the pure look of discouragement and the tinge of sadness in your eyes. His heart sank at the sound of your meek voice.
“Hi.” You whimpered.
Your energy was totally off, and Draco could sense it. Normally you would attack him with kisses when he entered, ready to ask him all about his day. Now he could see the slight watery glaze in your eyes, and it was breaking his heart.
“Hey, beautiful...what’s the matter?” He asked, his brows narrowing in confusion.
Your voice quivered as you spoke, but you refused to let the tears spill. One bad day shouldn’t have been enough to break you. After all, the day was basically over already and you had tomorrow to start fresh.
“Today was terrible.” You stated simply, not even knowing how else to describe it.
“You had a bad day too? Everyone seems to have gotten their ass kicked today,” Draco replied, walking around the front of the bed to his small closet; “What happened with you, love?”
Your eyes didn’t even follow him as he changed out of his school clothes and into something more comfortable. He could tell that you had really taken a hit today.
“Well, you know I was late this morning. I still have no idea how my alarm didn’t go off,” You explained; “Snape dropped a pop quiz on my class, I almost made Cedric look like a troll for the rest of his life, I broke Professor Sprout’s favorite pot, I failed my Defense essay....” You rattled off, continuing to explain in detail how horrible your day had been.
Draco listened to every word, understanding how all of that could definitely put a strain on yourself. Truth be told, Draco had secretly turned your alarm off the night before, hoping you’d sleep through first period and be with him longer. He didn’t dare tell you though, because he felt horrible that it put such a bad start on your day.
He slid into his bed, but didn’t try to pull you towards him. You needed a little space for the time being. You did, however, turn your head so you could see him. He could see the tiredness and displeasure in your expression, and he just wanted to make it better.
“My sweet girl is never supposed to have a day like that.” He said with a charming grin.
Your down and out demeanor caused you to be much more aggravated than usual, and you took his comment completely the wrong way. You snapped at him with a tone full of annoyance.
“Oh, what? Just because I’m a fucking Hufflepuff I can’t have a bad day?” You said snarkily, turning your head back around.
His smile faded and worry filled his voice. He hadn’t meant to offend you, and he surely didn’t want to make you more upset.
“I didn’t mean it like that, love. I just meant that you never deserve such a rough day,” He corrected himself; “But everyone has them.”
You sighed heavily and nodded. You didn’t mean to bark at him like that. You were just in a bad mood.
“I know. I’m sorry.” You apologized sincerely.
He rested his hand on your back, staring at the back of your head. He shook it off like it was no big deal. It seemed that everyone was being too forgiving towards you today.
“It’s alright. Don’t worry about it.” He smiled, even though you couldn’t see it.
His fingertips danced along your back, feeling at the tense muscles there. You had grown silent now, and he was honestly not sure what to say. His comforting skills had greatly improved over the years you had been together, but he still came up short sometimes. All he knew to do was to shower you with love and make sure that you knew that he was there for you.
He carefully left kisses on the back of your neck, moving his hand to run across the exposed skin of your arm. He always kept it cold in his room, and he could feel the chill on your body. He leaned over and spoke lowly in your ear, mentally noting that if anyone saw him like this right now that they’d think they were dreaming.
“I think someone needs cuddles from her boyfriend.” He suggested, knowing that was an offer that you’d never refuse.
Your heart did a little jolt in response. You turned over, letting Draco pull you flush into his warm body. Your head nuzzled into his neck and his arms draped around you.
“There’s my pretty girl.” He said, kissing your temple.
Your cheeks grew hot at his kind words, but you suddenly remembered what he had been talking about when he first entered.
“Tell me about your day.” You requested, running your finger along his collarbone.
He shrugged. He had been stoked to tell you about how great his day was, but he didn’t want to make you feel worse by telling you all the good things that happened to him.
“Ah, it wasn’t much of anything. Just some Quidditch and grades stuff.” He said casually.
You shook your head.
“No, come on, D. You were excited to tell me. I want to hear it.” You said honestly.
Maybe hearing about someone else’s good fortune would help. Honestly, Draco could tell addresses he had memorized and you’d be entertained. Draco opened his legs a little so you could place one of yours between them. He smirked at how you couldn’t possibly get any closer.
“I had Quidditch practice this morning after you left. It went really well and I think that we’re going to beat the brakes off of Gryffindor next weekend.” He praised.
You scoffed at that. Of course that was considered important in Draco’s mind. He went on as you began to leave kisses along his jawline.
“Then I had Transfiguration and McGongall said I had a great technique. That woman hates me and she gave me a compliment! I don’t know who spiked her morning pumpkin juice.” Draco chortled.
You knew all too well that McGonagall had it out for Draco. As a matter of fact, most professors weren’t too fond of Draco...minus Snape. Draco was cold most of the time. He didn’t allow himself to be vulnerable in front of anyone. He didn’t share his secrets with anyone other than you and he very rarely ever let out the emotions he kept bottled up. On the outside, he was a sneaky and mean guy with no sympathy for others.
But you didn’t see him that way.
He had been nothing but wonderful to you in your time together. He held a real soft spot in his heart for you, and you were the only one that got to see the way he really was. A strong, loving guy with nothing but hope for humanity deep within himself. You knew him backwards and forwards, and the Draco Malfoy that he worked so hard to maintain wasn’t really him. One day he’d bare his realness to the world.
But for now, you were fine with having him to yourself.
“That’s great, love. I’m glad you had a good day.” You responded, with a soft grin.
You still weren’t feeling like yourself, and Draco’s only hope was that he could hold you until you felt better. Your kisses had moved to his neck, sucking lightly on the spot that you knew he liked. He hummed out happily.
“If we get to stay like this for the rest of the night, then today will be the best day yet.” He proclaimed.
“How about we stay here all weekend?” You whispered into his ear.
He moved his head to catch your lips in a searing kiss, beginning to melt away all the stress from your no good day.
“Even better.”
#draco malfoy#draco malfoy x reader#draco malfoy x hufflepuff!reader#draco malfoy imagine#draco malfoy blurb#draco malfoy oneshot#draco malfoy fanfiction#draco malfoy x female reader#draco malfoy fluff#seriouslysnape
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go get her, kid. (peter parker)
Summary: Peter Parker is hopelessly in love with Tony Starks’ teenage daughter, and Stark encourages him to shoot his shot.
WC: 7.4k (holy shit)
Warnings: Bad language, , really nothing else. A lot of cute peter and a painful amount fluff. A tiny bit of angst too.
A/N: I found myself watching Tom Holland interview clips today and I just couldn’t help myself. Here we are: my first peter parker/ spiderman one shot! I have some Harry and Jj pieces in the works, so keep eyes out for that!
LET’S DO IT!!!
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Peter found himself in this position far too often. Staring at you shamelessly while you worked away at whatever was on your desk, usually a school assignment or some tech project. His crush had been going on for quite some time, but it was getting more and more difficult to hide.
You and Peter had been best friends ever since your dad first recruited him. Something clicked between the two of you, causing an instant friendship. As time went on, you grew closer and closer to the superhero, and he quickly became your best friend. You began surrounding yourself with his friends without even realizing it, becoming close with Ned and MJ almost instantly. They were great people, and you loved being around them, but something about Peter was just different. Your energies matched perfectly for some reason. He got your humour, liked the same things as you, plus he was a great conversationalist and an even better listener. Some of your favorite memories were made with Peter.
Despite knowing practically everything about the boy, you were completely oblivious about his huge crush on you. Ned was the only person who truly knew, though many other people had their suspicions. The Avengers had an idea about it, considering you were what he talked about 90 percent of the time. MJ could tell because of the way he looked at you. When he looked your way, his pupils enlarged, his cheeks went pink, and the look on his face was entirely lovey-dovey. It was so obvious just in the way he gazed at you when you spoke.
He was looking at you in that way now, though you weren’t aware. He was meant to be studying (it was the whole reason he came over to your house, or at least that’s the reason he told you), but he couldn’t bring himself to care about chemistry homework when you looked so damn beautiful. Your hair was pulled back into a low ponytail keeping it away from your face as you worked. Your hands flew across the keyboard on your laptop, typing out something Peter probably wouldn’t understand. He was smart, sure, but you were intelligent in a different way. You were insightful and observant, you got things other people couldn’t begin to process. Your brain understood things in a different capacity than most. Peter assumes you got this trait from your father, who was the exact same way.
“What’re you typing? Something for school?”
You nodded, your attention not wavering from the laptop screen. “Yeah, an assignment for AP Lit.”
“Oh, that one project you told me about? With the essay and the powerpoint?”
You nodded again. “Mhm.”
Peter furrowed his brows, moving off your bed to come stand near you at your desk in an attempt to get a better look at what you were working so eagerly on. “I thought that project wasn’t due for another month.
“It’s not. I had an idea for the essay, and I figured if I get started early, I have more time to edit and perfect it.”
“You’re such a perfectionist.” Peter says with a light chuckle, looking at the state of your desk. It was both chaotic and organized at the same time. Pens, highlighters, pieces of paper, a book with annotations scribbled in the margins, notebooks with neat class notes printed inside of them in your pretty handwriting. They were all scattered about the surface, but Peter knew you well enough to know that there was always a method to your madness. As you observed longer, he realized that all of the items were in different sections on your desk, based on categories and subjects. He smiled lightly, realizing that this messy but technically neat surface was probably a very accurate representation of what goes on in your mind.
You finished the paragraph you were typing with a flourish, a satisfied smile resting on your lips. “There. I have a basic outline done for the essay portion. Obviously, I’ll have to go back and add a little more and elaborate on the points, but the basics are there.”
Peter glanced up at your laptop screen. His eyes were met with a never ending sea of typed out words. He smiled; this was so you. Your ‘outline’ is another student's essay doubled.
“You’re gonna write more than that?”
You looked back at him, and he saw your face for the first time during the encounter. His cheeks went slightly pink at the sight of you, and he prayed that you didn’t notice.
You didn’t, or perhaps you just didn’t say anything. You continued on with the conversation without skipping a beat, and relief washed over Peter because of this.
“Of course I am.” You stated with furrowed brows, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “This is so boring and basic, and has no detail whatsoever. Anybody who reads the summary of the book online could write this. I want my teacher to know that I thoroughly read and understood the novel, you know? I don’t want to submit some surface-level shit, I want to really pick apart the undertones of and the meaning behind the story.”
Peter nods, pretending to understand what you meant. He’d barely been paying attention to the words you were saying, too encapsulated with your beautiful eyes to do so. You turned back around towards your work, causing your best friend to snap out of his trance-like state.
“Do you wanna watch a movie or something? I’m bored.”
You had now picked up a pencil and a highlighter, working on the chemistry notes he was supposed to be taking. “Don’t you have work to do, Pete?”
“...No.”
You paused your writing to gaze at him skeptically.
“So you did your book report for english?”
“Yes.”
“Your worksheets for pre-calc?”
“Mhm.”
“You read the assigned chapters for Pschycology and finished the quiz you had to take on them?”
A nod was your only answer.
“What about chem? We have notes, essay questions, assigned reading, and a formulas worksheet due next tuesday. Have you done all of that?”
Peter hesitated for a moment. “Yes, I have.” It was a clear lie. “Can we watch a movie now?”
“There’s no way you did all of that. Go finish your work, and then we can watch a movie.”
A groan escapes Peters lips as he turns, resting against your desk. “But that’ll take forever. Your dad kicks me out at 11:00. We’ll never have time to watch one.” He whines.
You smile slightly, unable to fight it. Not replying to your friend, you spin around in your chair, raising your voice slightly, “FRIDAY, connect to dad please.”, the command directed to nowhere in particular.
“Connecting to Mr. Stark.” The familiar robotic voice echoes throughout your room.
“What’s up, Y/N/N?”
“Hey, Dad? Can Peter stay a bit later tonight?”
“Why?” Your dad’s voice replies through a hidden speaker, his tone almost accusatory.
“Because he wants to watch a movie but I won’t let him until we’re done with homework. We won’t have enough time to finish the movie if he leaves at normal curfew? Pleeeaseee, Dad?”
You can hear your father sigh. “Fine, but only because it’s not a school night and I’m feeling generous. He’s gotta be gone by one though, no exceptions.”
Both of you smiled widely, and you erupted in cheers. “Thanks, Dad!”
“Kid, be ready for training at eight. A later curfew doesn’t mean an exception from your early morning saturday sessions.” The statement was directed at Peter, who nodded, despite your father not being able to see him.
“Got it, Mr. Stark.”
“FRIDAY, disconnect.” You heard Tony’s voice from the other side.
“Disconnected.” The sound of the AI confirming the command filled your room, and the space fell into a brief silence once again.
You spun in your chair, turning to face Peter with a smug smile on your face. “There, now we can get our work done, and watch a movie. Satisfied?”
Peter nodded, giving a roll of his eyes and heading back over to his workspace on your bed, plopping down and continuing his assignments.
An hour and half later, Peter gave a heavy sigh, finally closing his textbook with a smile. “All done!” he announced proudly.
“With everything?”
“Yes, everything.”
You closed your notebook you’d been working in, standing up. “Great. I’ve been done for half an hour, I’ve been working on future assignments while I waited for you to finish up. Ready to watch that movie?”
Peter nodded excitedly. He loved watching movies with you, because you always cuddled up close to him on your bed while you watched. Peter loved being in close proximity to you, even though it made him a little nervous.
“What do you wanna watch?” He asked, beginning to clear his things off your bed.
“I don’t know. We can discuss while we go make popcorn.”
Peter’s eyes lit up; he loved popcorn.
“Okay!” He tossed the rest of his things in his school bag, zipping it up quickly and dropping it in the corner of your room. “Lets go!”
You chuckled at his childlike behavior, following him out of your bedroom door towards your kitchen. The entire journey down the stairs, down the hall, and to the kitchen was filled with Peter going on and on about movies he wanted to see.
You grabbed the microwave popcorn from the pantry, unwrapping it and tossing it in, starting up the machine.
You continued to listen to Peter as soft popping sounds filled your kitchen.
“Oh, you guys have Disney plus, right? What if we watched that new star wars show thingy? The mandalorian?”
You smiled at this statement. Though you didn’t see the boy in any way but a friend (at least that’s what you told yourself), you found Peter’s Star Wars obsession very cute.
“I mean, I would watch that, but I don’t think I’d understand it.”
Peter’s brows furrowed. “Why not?”
“Because I’ve never seen the movies.”
You watched in amusement as Peter’s jaw dropped, his eyes widening in shock. “You’ve NEVER seen the Star Wars movies? Are you kidding me, Y/N?”
You laughed at his reaction, moving to fetch the fully popped popcorn from the microwave and transfer it into a bowl. “No, I’m not kidding. I’ve been meaning to watch them forever, but I guess I never got around to it.”
“I can’t believe this!” Peter exclaims in disbelief. “We’ve been friends for a year and a half now, and you’ve never seen the Star Wars movies? This is insane! I talk about them so much… did you just never understand what I was talking about?”
You shook your head, chuckling. “Nope, I never have. I kinda just let you talk about it, because I planned on watching the movies. I figured I’d understand what you meant when I watched them.”
“Holy shit… we’re watching the first one tonight, Y/N. No arguments, we’re doing it.”
You grabbed the now prepared bowl of popcorn, smiling at your friend. “Alright, let’s do it.”
You headed back up the stairs, the sound of your footsteps accompanied with the sound of Peter murmuring in disbelief as you made your way to your room.
Once the two of you arrived at your destination, you closed the door, placing the bowl of popcorn on your still cluttered desk.
Peter climbed into your bed, while you rummaged through your drawers in search of comfy clothes. “I’m gonna change into pj’s before we start, i want to be comfy.”
Peter nodded. “FRIDAY, put Star Wars: The Phantom Menace on Y/N’s TV.” He spoke out in a slightly raised voice. The movie appeared on your screen, waiting to be started as you changed.
A few moments later, you emerged from your bathroom, now wearing a pair of Nike shorts and a slightly oversized t-shirt.
“Y/N, this is about to change your li-” Peter’s voice trailed off as he looked at you. The oversized shirt you were wearing… was his.
He choked on the piece of popcorn he’d been eating. “I-is that my shirt?”
You looked down on what you were wearing, realizing that it was, in fact, Peter's. “Oh shit. Yeah, sorry. You left it at the lab once, dad gave it to me to give to you, and I guess it just got mixed in with my clothes. I’ll wash it and give it back.
Peter shook his head, coughing again. “No, it’s okay. You can keep it. It looks better on you anyway.” his cheeks went pink as he realized what had just left his mouth. He hadn’t meant to say the last part.
Your cheeks went even pinker at the compliment, which you couldn’t deny made your stomach flutter a little bit. “Okay, thanks.” You smiled at your friend, climbing into the bed beside him. You cuddled in close to him, probably closer than need be, but Peter didn’t seem to mind.
“FRIDAY, start the movie.”
---
A few hours later, the credits were rolling, and Peter was red in the face. You had fallen asleep halfway through the movie, and had moved even closer to him in your slumber. You were now full-on cuddling the boy, and he had no idea what to do. Your leg was moved over his, your head lay on his chest. One arm thrown around his waist. He liked having you this close, but his stomach was in a constant state of butterflies, and he was worried that the sound of his heart beating loudly in his chest would wake you.
He didn’t know what time it was, but it must’ve been close to one, because a knock sounded from the other side of your bedroom door.
Without waiting for an answer, Tony entered the room. “Alright, kids, it’s almost curfew, time to wrap it up…”
His eyes landed on you and Peter, cuddled up in your bed.
“Kid, what the hell is going on here?”
“Mr. Stark! Um, Y/N fell asleep while we were watching the movie and she kinda… I don’t know.. Ended up like this? Nothing’s going on, I swear, it’s just… I didn’t want to wake her up…”
Peter’s face was the color of a tomato at this point. Stark still had his suspicions about the boy’s intentions, but had a feeling that Peter was telling the truth. “Alright, then. You’d better get your ass home and get some sleep. Like I said, you don’t get a free pass from training because you were cuddling with my daughter till one am.”
Peter’s eyes went wide. “No, Mr. Stark, I- We weren’t… I Wasn’t…”
Stark chuckled at the boy’s flustered state. “I’m screwing with you, Kid. Now get the hell out of my house. I’ll see you at 8 AM sharp at the compound”
Peter nodded frantically. “Yes, sir. 8 AM. Got it.”
Tony turned and left without another word, leaving Peter slightly panicked. Did Mr. Stark think that something was going on between him and Y/N? Would he be mad if there was? Peter didn’t know what to think, but he knew that he should probably leave before Tony decided to come back.
Peter climbed carefully out from underneath Y/N, setting her head gently on her pillow. He tried his very best not to wake her as he moved out of the bed.
“Goodnight, Y/N. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? Love you lots.” Peter whispered to his ‘best friend’, planting a sweet kiss on her forehead. With that, he slid your window open, climbing out of it and swinging his way home.
Peter was completely oblivious to the fact that Tony had been standing quietly outside your door when Peter said his goodbyes, and Tony saw the entire encounter. The ‘goodnight’, the ‘i love you’, the sweet forehead kiss.
Tony had his suspicions, but that night it was confirmed: his newest recruit had it bad for his daughter.
Strangely, Tony didn’t find himself terribly angry over it.
The next morning, you awoke to the sound of your alarm blaring frustratingly loud. You groaned at the noise, picking up your phone to turn it off. The time on your phone screen read 7:00 AM. Groaning again, you pulled yourself reluctantly out of bed. As much as you hated getting up out of bed, you knew you had to if you ever wanted to complete your training. Your father had promised you that you’d get a spot on his team if you trained hard enough, and you were extremely determined. It had been your dream for years to become an Avenger, so you had been training your ass off for months to earn your spot.
This is how all of your Saturdays had begun for many weeks. An alarm going off at seven in the morning, waking you up to get ready for training at eight. It was a normal routine for you at this point, but for some reason the early wake up never got easier.
You moved about your regular morning routine, heading straight for your bathroom to brush your teeth and wash your face. Once your basic hygiene was done, you brushed through your hair, changed into some clothes (your training uniform was at the compound), grabbed your phone, and headed downstairs.
You made a beeline for the kitchen, where your father was already making his morning coffee. When he noticed your presence, he gave you a tired smile.
“Morning, Y/N/N. Sleep well?”
Still half asleep, you gave an exhausted nod. “I shouldn’t have stayed up that late last night. I’ll yell at Peter when I see him. He always manages to convince me to let him stay late.”
For some reason, your father gave a light chuckle at your words. “I bet he does, sweetheart.”
Your brows furrowed at his statement. Something about his tone of voice didn’t sit right with you. “What’s that supposed to mean?” You ask, making your way over to fix yourself a cup of coffee.
Your father smiled smugly at you, passing over the coffee pot and a mug. “Nothing, honey. Be ready in fifteen.”
Still suspicious, your eyes followed him as he placed his coffee mug in the sink and moved from the room. Why was he acting like this? Did Peter do something last night? You remembered falling asleep halfway through the movie, not being able to make it through the whole thing. Had something happened while you were sleeping?
Deciding not to let it bother you, you pushed the interaction from your mind, focusing solely on fixing your coffee. You were barely functional without it, and you knew you needed to be fully aware for training. You had to prove to your father that you could keep up with the Avengers, and that you’d be a useful asset to their team.
You downed the coffee quickly, knowing you had only a few minutes left to get ready. When your father gave you a time warning, he always meant it. And, you knew all too well, he would leave you behind if you were going to make him late.
He’d done it twice before.
Once you had finished chugging the remnants of your coffee, you placed the mug neatly in the sink, right beside where your father had left his. The drink had been an instant pick-me-up, and you automatically felt more awake. You found yourself getting more and more excited for the day ahead of you. Though waking up early on saturday mornings was a pain in the ass, you did enjoy training. You got to exercise, learn about cool technology, and screw around with your best friend. What wasn’t there to like?
Now that your best friend had crossed your mind, you pulled out your phone to text him. You sent him a message every morning, or he sent one to you. It was just a thing the two of you did. Over the past year the two of you had been close, it became some sort of routine.
Y/N/N: morning spidey. u awake?
Within moments, he was typing out a reply. He always answered your messages quickly.
Spidey: yes i am :) ready for training? I’m gonna kick ur ass in sprints today
You chuckled lightly at his response. You and Peter had always been insanely competitive towards each other, and it really jumped out during training. Unfortunately for you, Peter usually won the challenges. You always blamed it on the fact that he had more experience and super strength; he blamed it on the fact that ‘you suck’ and ‘he’s just that awesome’.
Y/N/N: u can try, but idk how that will work out. I’ve beaten u in all of the other sprints for weeks.
Spidey: doesn’t matter. I’m showing out today
Spidey: bring ur a-game, irongirl.
You smiled at the message.
Y/N/N: always do, spiderboy
He started typing back immediately, and you knew exactly why. He called you irongirl to screw with you, so you had begun calling him spiderboy to get on his nerves. It worked every time.
Spidey: Y/N!!! It’s spiderman!!!
Y/N/N: spiderboy!!! It’s nova!!!
Spidey: ugh. Ur impossible.
You grinned widely. Your playful banter with Peter has always been one of your favorite parts of the friendship.
Y/N/N: but u love me anyways :)))) see u soon
Spidey: u better be glad i do. see u soon
You reread the texts, unable to fight the smile on your face. Everytime you interact with Peter, you remember how much you truly love him. Being an avenger, and the daughter of one of the smartest and most famous men on the planet, wasn’t easy. Peter was the only one who had a taste of the madness that was your life. Having him around was having a sense of normalcy, and so were incredibly grateful for him.
Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of your voice being called from the front door of your house.
“Y/N! Time to leave!” Without hesitation, you locked your phone, slipping it into the pocket of your sweatpants.
You hurried towards the front door, not wanting to be left behind again. When you arrived, your father was already standing there, holding the door open. You gave him a smile and a quick thank you for holding the door, then made your way out. The driver was already waiting patiently in front of your house. This was one of your dad’s six drivers.
“Morning, Bernard.” You say kindly to the driver, climbing into the back seat of the range rover. “How are you today?”
“I’m doing wonderful, Y/N. How are you?” The older man replied. You really liked Bernard, he was one of your favorite drivers. He was an older man, in his mid seventies, and you found him to be the sweetest person in the universe. Sometimes, he’d bring you your favorite candy when he used to pick you up from school, and he was always so considerate and kind.
“I’m good. Tired, but good.”
The man smiled at your reply. By this point, your dad had finished locking up the front door of the house, and he climbed in the backseat beside you.
“Good morning, Mr. Stark.” Bernard said professionally to his new passenger, and your dad nodded as a reply.
“Morning, bernard.”
The conversation ended there between the two men. Your father wasn’t a very social person with people he didn’t know, and Bernard was aware of this fact. He mostly talked to you when you were in the car, and Tony went on his phone and did Lord knows what.
“How is Dorothy doing? Is she feeling better?” You asked the man as he began pulling out of your driveway. Dorothy was Bernard’s wife, and she’d gotten sick the week prior. Given her age, Bernard was very worried about her.
Bernard smiled at your question. “Much, much better. They released her from the hospital yesterday, she’s back home and doing great. Thanks for asking.”
“Of course!” You grinned back. “Did you ever find out what she had?”
“Pneumonia, just a very bad case of it.”
You nodded in understanding. “Well, I’m glad she’s better! I was worried when you first told me.”
The conversation continued, talking about anything and everything as you drove to the compound. He told you about his wife, his four kids and what they’re doing. His granddaughter had a baby a few days before, and he was extremely excited about it.
After a 20 minute drive, you pulled up to the building you knew so well. Bernard went to the normal procedure of getting through the front gates, and then pulled up to the front of the compound.
“Well, here we are.” Bernard announced, parking the vehicle. You and your father began climbing out of the backseat.
“Thank you, bernard. Tell your granddaughter I said congratulations!”
He wished you a kind goodbye, and then you were gone, leaving the car and heading towards the compound.
When you walked into the main section of the building, you spotted your best friend in the kitchen. You had to admit, he looked incredible, standing near an open window in the early morning light. He was already dressed in his sleek, black training uniform. It was tight against his body, showing off his muscled body. Sometimes, you forget how beautiful Peter is.
“You’re staring…” A singsong voice came in your ear. You whipped your head towards the voice to see your father walking away from you, smirking. You stood there, feeling slightly confused. Had you really been staring at Peter?
At times, you forget that Peter is only your best friend. The two of you act like an old married sometimes. You spend all of your time together, and you know each other so well.
Strange feelings you couldn’t understand had crept up on you before, especially recently. You couldn’t deny Peter was attractive, and he was a great person, too. How could you not love him? The issue is, you found yourself loving him in a different way than before…
You shook your head, clearing your thoughts. You couldn’t be thinking about this right now, it’s not the place or time. Peter was standing right in front of you, and you needed to be focused for training.
You could process your feelings and emotions at a later time.
You began walking up to Peter, who was leaning up against the counter holding a cup of coffee.
“Morning, loser.” You said teasingly, greeting your friend. His head snapped in your direction, and he smiled when his eyes found you. (You thought you could see his cheeks go pink, too, but you forced yourself to ignore it.)
“Hey! How’d you sleep?”
“Pretty good.” You replied, leaning against the counter beside him. “I didn’t even notice that you left last night, I was really out. Did my Dad come in and tell you to leave?”
The pink in Peter’s cheeks darkened at your statement. Of course, this was the perfect time for your father to reenter the room. “Yeah, I did. He seemed very comfortable, but I kicked him out at one.”
Peter and your father were making direct eye contact. Your dad had that stupid smirk on his face, and peter was bright red.
You looked between the two of them, not knowing what to think. Before, you were just suspicious, but now it was confirmed: something happened last night between the two of them, and you were determined to find out what.
Hours later, you’re completely exhausted from training. You worked your ass off, and had successfully beat Peter in sprints.
“That’s right! You lost! How amazing is spiderboy now?”
Peter rolled his eyes in mock annoyance. “Whatever, Y/N. I let you win.”
Your jaw dropped. “You did not! I won because I’m better!”
Peter just smiled at you. You took a swig of the water bottle in your hands, turning around to look at your friend as you did.
The sight you were met with was very sweet. Peter stood there, smiling at you with a look you could only describe as adoration. You looked back at him, a small grin resting on your face.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” The brunette boy says cheekily.
“Why are YOU looking at ME like that, Parker?”
You took a step closer to him, his eyes widening slightly at your movement. He said nothing in response to your question (though it felt more like an accusation), and you smiled again.”Got nothing to say?” Your voice was barely a whisper.
“Parker!” You jumped what felt like 20 feet in the air at the sound of Natasha’s voice, breaking up the little moment between you and Peter.
You stepped back away from him, and you couldn’t help but notice the sadness flash across his face before he turned to the other woman in the room.
“Yeah, Nat?”
“Tony needs your help in the lab. I believe his exact words were ‘he needs to be here in five or I’ll kill him.’ A few minutes have already passed, I’d start running if I were you.”
Peter’s eyes widened for the second time. “Oh, shit, okay. Thanks, Nat.” He turned his head quickly in your direction. “I’ll meet you in your room when I’m done, okay?”
You nodded with a smile. Peter planted a quick kiss on your forehead before jetting off in the direction of the lounge.
Grinning to yourself, you turned towards the sink, your back facing Natasha. You begin cleaning out your now empty water bottle, thinking over the previous interaction with Peter. You loved when he kissed your forehead.
“So, how long have you liked him?” You were so deep in thought, Natasha’s voice made you jump once again. When you’d fully processed her words, your cheeks went pink.
“I’m sorry, what?”
“Oh, don’t give me that. I know you like him.”
“Like who?” Play dumb. That’ll throw her off your trail… right?
“Peter! Come on, you’re caught. Just admit it, Y/n, you’re making things harder on yourself.”
Finally, you sighed. Drying your hands on a towel, you turned reluctantly back towards Nathasha. “Is it really that obvious?”
The woman broke out into a grin at your words. “Of course it is! You two are hopelessly in love with each other. It’s almost hard to watch.”
Your cheeks went pink at her statement. “With each other? Oh, no. You mean I’m hopelessly in love with him. It’s not mutual. I’m just his best friend.”
Nat rolled her eyes dramatically. “Oh, come on! ‘Just his best friend’ my ass. He loves you, Y/N. He’s even more obvious than you are.”
You shook your head quickly. “No, I promise you’re wrong.”
She looked at you pointedly. “I was right about you, wasn’t I?”
“Yes, but…” Your voice trailed off. You couldn’t argue with that. Nat grinned smugly at your reaction.
“That’s what I thought. Please confess to him when he meets you in your room later. It’s painful to watch, I can’t do it any longer.” And with that, Natasha was gone, leaving you alone with your thoughts.
Was it really thought obvious? Could everyone tell how you felt about peter? You could hardly even tell how you felt about him; the line between best friend and crush had been blurred for so long. If everyone could tell that you were hopelessly in love with your best friend, you would be incredibly embarrassed.
Even worse… what if Peter could tell that your in love with him?
You shook your head, as if clearing your thoughts. No. You couldn’t think like that. Of course he didn’t know; he would’ve said something.
Right?
Sighing, you walked off towards your room to take a shower, pretending you weren’t going to think of him while you were in there.
---
While Natasha was exposing your feelings, you were completely oblivious to the fact that Tony was doing the same thing to Peter in the lab.
When the boy walked in, Peter fully expected that he was being called for one of three reasons.
One: Tony had a new mission for Peter.
Two: Tony needed help with an experiment.
Or, three (the scariest option): Tony wanted to scold him for (albeit unintentionally) cuddling with his daughter the night before.
Peter could only be described as apprehensive as he walked carefully into the lab, where Tony was hunched over a table, working on something that Peter couldn’t see.
“Mr. Stark?” Peter spoke nervously, a timid way of letting Tony know of his presence. “Nat said you needed me. Is that true, or was she just trying to get rid of me?”
“No, no, I called for you.” Tony replied. He made a few last touches on whatever he was working on, then turned around towards peter. “I wanted to talk to you.”
Okay, option two is eliminated. Now, the question at hand is: will it be option one or three?
“Oh, okay. What about?” Peter said casually (or at least, that's how he hoped it came across.)
Tony gave a pointed look to the boy before speaking again. “My daughter.”
Peter’s eyes widened slightly.
Shit, shit, shit.
Option three it is.
“Is this about last night sir? I swear I can explain-” Peter was quickly speaking.
But, before he could finish, Tony was cutting him off.
“This isn’t about last night, kid. I mean, it kind of is, but not really.”
Peter’s brow furrowed.
Unknown option number four?
“What do you mean, sir?”
“I saw what happened before you left last night. The forehead kiss, the ‘I love you,’ all of it.”
Peter was bright red in seconds. “Oh…”
“Do you love my daughter, Peter?”
The boy’s cheeks somehow managed to go a darker shade of pink.
“I-I uh.. O-of course I do, she’s, uh, she’s my best friend.” Peter stammered out.
Tony narrowed his eyes. “That’s not what I mean, Peter.” The man says, his tone borderline accusatory. “Do you love her, love her?”
Silence. Peter didn’t know what to say, so he opted for nothing at all.
“I already know the answer, Peter, so you might as well just come out and say it.”
Peter pondered his next move. If he played his cards wrong, this conversation could end in him losing his life. Tony Stark was not one to be messed with, especially when it comes to Y/N.
On the other hand, Tony Stark was not one to be lied to, either.
Peter sighed, accepting his fate. “How did you know?”
Much to Peter’s surprise, Tony gave a small smile. “I see the way you look at her, kid. I’ve looked at many girls like that in my day. That enamoured look. You're in love with my daughter, and I have some questions.”
“Questions?”
“Yes, questions, kid. Keep up.”
Peter nodded. “Alright.”
“How long?” Tony asked.
“How long…?” Peter didn’t understand what Tony was aking.
“How long have you been in love with Y/N! How long have you known?”
Peter looked away, breaking eye contact momentarily out of nerves.
When did he begin loving you? Now that he’s truly thinking about it, he can’t really remember.
Maybe it was the first mission that the two of you did together, back when you still known as irongirl. It was a bank robbery, an easy task that Tony had given for your very first mission.
Maybe it was that one time when you dragged him out of bed at 6 AM so that you could show him your favorite coffee shop.
Perhaps it was when you took that faithful mission to Asgard, when you gained your powers accidentally, earning your new title as Nova.
Or, it could be the time that you and him stayed up late binge watching a show he couldn’t remember. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you that night. You looked so beautiful that night, getting excited as something cool happened in the show. Your hair was tied back, wearing an oversized shirt, your face makeup free. He couldn’t help but smile as you laughed, and didn’t think he’d ever heard a more beautiful sound in the world.
Yeah, he thinks it was that night.
“Um… about ten months ago, I think? That’s when I realized, but I think I’ve loved her for longer. I just forced myself not to acknowledge it, I guess.”
Tony nodded in understanding. “I get that. What is it about her?”
Another question the boy had to think about.
“There’s a lot of things, I think. Like how excited she gets when she talks about things she’s passionate about. Oh, and the way she laughs when something’s funny in a movie or a show or something. And the way she sends me memes or videos that she thinks are funny. They’re usually not very funny, but of course I think it’s hilarious just because she sent it to me. And she always listens to me when I talk, even if I’m talking about something stupid and boring like science stuff I think is interesting. She talks back to me like she cares what I’m saying, and I know she probably doesn’t, but she acts like she does, and that’s enough. She always drags me out to go on adventures, or, at least, that’s what she calls them. Usually it’s just going to get coffee or try out some new restaurant she heard about but it’s still fun. She’s just so amazing, and I think she makes me the best version of myself.”
The rant ended, and for a moment, Peter forgot that Tony was even in the room.
“Damn. I wasn’t expecting that. I’m impressed, kid. To be honest, I expected some shallow answer like ‘she looks hot in her suit’ or something like that.”
“No, sir. Of course, she’s beautiful, but Y/N is just so much more than that.”
Tony gave another sweet smile to the boy in front of him.
“She likes you, too, you know.”
Peter’s head snapped toward Tony again.
What the hell did he just say?
“What?”
“Y/N. She likes you.”
“No way. She just sees me as her best friend. I’m probably like a brother to her. She doesn’t like me like that.”
“But she does, kid. I know my daughter better than I know myself. She is head over heels for you, spidey. Which is why you should tell her how you feel.”
“Tell her how I feel? Why would I do that?”
“Because she likes you, too, and then you two will be stupid kids in love.”
“Are you serious?”
“Aren’t I always?”
Peter paused for a moment. “I thought you’d kill me when you found out I liked your daughter, not convince me to go talk to her about it.”
“I’m gonna be honest with you, kid. I brought you in here with the intention of killing you, or just telling you to stay away from my daughter. But after you went on that little rant about why you loved her, I just couldn’t tell you to keep away from her. You really love her, kid, I can tell. So go talk to her.”
“You’re sure you won’t be mad if I ask her out?”
Tony shook his head and smiled.
“Go get her, kid.”
-------
Freshly clean and feeling a significant amount better, you sat on your bed scrolling on your phone. Thoughts of Peter had begun to fade (mainly because you forced them out of your mind) and that helped to keep you from stressing about what’s to come.
You had decided to confess how you feel to Peter.
True, this plan could ruin everything. Today could be the day you lost your best friend, and that thought made you want to cry.
But today could also be the day you finally get to kiss the boy you’ve loved forever, and that thought also made you want to cry.
You didn't have much time to think about it further, however, because Peter was knocking on your bedroom door.
“Y/N? It’s me. Can I come in?”
You paused immediately, your heart rating speeding up.
Oh, shit. This is it. This could be the beginning or the end of you and Peter Parker.
You took a deep breath, steadying yourself. It was now or never.
“Yeah, Petey, come on in.”
The door opened, and the boy you loved so much walked in. His cheeks were pink, you noticed. His cheeks only went pink when he’s nervous. Why was he nervous?
You could tell by his damp hair that he had also showered before coming to your room.
“I need to talk to you about something.” He rushes out.
Oh.
“Same.” is your reply. What else are you meant to say?
“Oh, really? Well, uh, you can go first. I’ll wait.”
You shook your head frantically. “No, you first. You said it first, so it’s only right that you go.”
Peter’s hand went to the back of his neck, rubbing it. Another nervous habit of his.
“Can I sit down?”
You nodded. Why was he even asking? Usually he’d just plop down whenever he pleased, no questions asked. This behavior was very out of character for the boy you knew so well.
The boy sat down on the edge of your bed, and then took a deep breath. “Okay. I don’t know how to tell you this, but I just have to. I don’t want you to hate me, and I really hope this doesn’t affect our friendship, but…”
Peter paused for a moment, and looked into your eyes. They were brimming with concern, and he just couldn’t hold it back anymore. He broke the eye contact you’d been maintaining, mustered up all the courage he could, and then blurted it out.
“I’m in love with you. I have been for I don’t know how long. I wasn’t planning on telling you, because I didn’t want to ruin our friendship, but it was starting to get physically painful and I just- I can’t hide it anymore. I love you and I’m sorry.”
Peter clenched his eyes shut, unable to look at your face. He waited (very anxiously) for a reaction, but it never came. Eventually, he opened his eyes, gaining the burst of bravery it took to look at you.
Your jaw was dropped, the expression on your face unreadable.
Oh, no. No no no no no. He’d fucked up. He fucked everything up and now you were never going to speak to him again. He’d lost you. Damn you, Tony Stark.
“Y/N…” He began his apology solemnly. “I’m-”
But he never got to finish his sentence.
Because you were pouncing on him before he had the chance to.
You were on him within seconds, kissing him with so much intensity that he fell back on the bed. He was taken aback for a moment, but quickly kissed you back.
For a moment, the two of you just lay there, wrapped in one another, kissing like there was no tomorrow.
A kiss that made up for all the ones both of you had longed to have in the months before.
You pulled away gently, looking into Peter’s eyes.
“I have loved you for so fucking long, Peter. I was going to tell you that I loved you today.”
“Are you serious?”
You laughed lightly. “Of course I’m serious, you dumbass.”
“Hey!” Peter feigned offense.
You pecked his lips. “You’re a cute dumbass, though.” And then you were kissing him again, and it’s all you could’ve asked for.
----
After a while, the two of you had finally tired each other out, and now you sat cuddled against each other on your bed. No movie or show was playing; it was just you and Peter, listening to each other’s breathing and the sound of your heartbeats.
You looked up at the beautiful boy you were cuddling with, only to find he was already looking down at you.
“Aren’t you going to ask me out, Parker?”
Peter’s eyes widened, and his cheeks went red (for the millionth time that day.)
“Oh, yeah, I- I just thought- nevermind, uh- Y/N, will-”
“Yes, of course I’ll be your girlfriend, Petey.” You cut him off, saving him a few extra minutes of nervous stammering.
He smiled sheepishly at you, then leaned down to bring you into a kiss.
You cuddled back down into his chest, smiling warmly.
You can confidently say that right now, in this moment, you are the happiest you’ve ever been.
#peter parker#peter parker one shot#peter parker fluff#peter parker smut#peter parker angst peter parker fanfiction#peter parker x reader#marvel fanfiction#mcu
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Wild Nights, Wild Hearts (One-Shot?)
“Mystery man”
[Main characters: Mikael Blomkvist X Reader]
Plot: It is time to head back to work as a lecturer at your university after a successful first semester. Unfortunately for you, one of your guest lecturers is a familiar face from a wild night out…
[A/N: Wrote this ages ago and thought, hey why not? Okay, so I don’t know if this is going to be an actual thing. Like I assume it’s going to be a one-shot. Plus, in all fairness, Mikael is my favourite non-Bond character of Daniel’s, so I thought it’s time to appreciate this man in all his glory. I hope you enjoy this! Let me know what you think?]
Music continued to boom through the speakers. The flashing lights and smoke was intense, but you didn’t care. As long as you were still with your friends, celebrating a birthday amongst the group, that's all that mattered. What also helped was the fact your sultry look managed to get you quite a few free drinks from the bartender. You weren’t used to this kind of attention, often keeping a natural look. However, this was your friend and co-worker’s birthday. You wanted to spice things up and look incredible for her. Of course, when Maisie saw you for the first time, she was surprised. In fact, her jaw dropped at how glamorous you looked. “Girl what the HELL! After Florence Pugh, you are a woman I’d proudly fuck.” You remember her particularly saying and that was the start of an incredibly wild night.
“Javier, can I get another tequila please!” You scream with excitement at the bar, Javier proudly pours you your sixth tequila shot.
“This one’s on the house my darling, Y/N.” He pushed the shot glass in front of you and your eyes widen with excitement. You had to admit, you do have a thing for tequila so this man feeding you free drinks made the night all the better.
“You spoil me.” You winked as you took the shot and walked off to join the rest of your friends.
The night followed with more dancing and more drinks between your friends. At some point on the floor, you started to get tired and your craving for more drinks kicked in because you found yourself at the bar once again. This time you were looking for something more than a shot. “Okay, so it’s like a sex on the beach but like so much fruiter, like with strawberries!” You tried to explain but in your drunken state, Javier couldn’t help but laugh as he struggled listening to you.
“You know what? You tell me what to do and I’ll make it for you.” He said and a devious grin appeared on your face. So you watched, instructing him on how to make your special cocktail and when he finished, he threw a small umbrella inside it to serve you. You sipped it and couldn’t help but moan. It was glorious...Well maybe it would’ve been if you could taste it at all.
“Can I have what she’s having?” A baritone voice said beside you. You turned with your eyebrow raised. “And I’ll pay for hers.”
He reached into his wallet, still looking into your eyes as he handed Javier his card. You weren’t sure whether it was the alcohol or the fact you were practically pushed against each other with how packed the bar was but this man was...incredibly handsome. Rugged dirt blonde hair, bright blue eyes that gave you butterflies and his dark blue shirt didn’t help as you couldn’t help but stare at his chest from time to time. Javier turned back to make your drink for the stranger and handed it over to him.
“If you’re going to have a cocktail, you’ve got to get it right. Strawberries with the ice.” He said with a smirk but you couldn’t hear him. Not with the music blasting over you...and his dreamy eyes.
“What?” You tried to shout out.
“I said-” He could barely get a word out in all the noise and you could see it. Quickly, you grabbed his hand and pulled him to a quieter table in the corner. “That’s better - wow.” He suddenly stopped himself when he took another look at you. “You’re really beautiful.”
“Smooth.” You chuckled. Alright, so at this point, usually you would say thanks and dip to find your friends. However, this man, bless him, appeared mesmerized by you. He was in awe of you and not just looking at your chest or your figure as though he were some creep. You both hadn’t realised you were still holding hands, leaning into each other.
“Hey, that’s unfair! I’m not usually bold with women.” Something about the mystery man was telling you he was honest. “The strong and silent type is full of surprises.” He said and you swear to god, you could see even he knew what he was doing with that statement. To be honest, he was right. With those eyes, he wouldn’t have to say a single word to get you to go home with him. Throughout the night, you both kept rambling to each other about everything and nothing but you were both having fun, laughing together and putting each other at ease. Your friends must’ve noticed you because they were all staring at the two of you in awe, sharing drinks together, leaning into each other. Then ‘Someone New’ by Hozier began to play. Oh no. Any slow song that played while you were next to a man was a recipe for disaster. The mystery man ,on his high, pulled you closer. “Oh no, I can’t go out there!” You said. “Come on, what happened to that confidence I saw earlier?!” He laughed.
“Listen, I can pick and choose when I want to be brave!” You snapped back. “Why are you so bold all of a sudden?!”
“What can I say? You bring out a new side to me.” He laughed and before you could fight back, he managed to bring you to the floor. You couldn’t tell him why this was a bad idea but...maybe it wasn’t now you were in his arms, moving around the floor. He held you close and you didn’t want to leave. Not with the high of the drinks and after such a good night filled with laughter. Who knows? Maybe when you wake up the next day, you’d regret it. But for now, you were going to appreciate being here with him...but now you were filled with anticipation, you were craving something. Uh oh. You were craving him. Suddenly, a surge of confidence filled you and you looked up at him. He had already been looking at you. Quickly, he leaned in and you found yourselves kissing with a raw, fiery passion that remained unmatched. You could tell how much he wanted you. In fact, you could feel it as he pressed you against him. But you didn’t care. You ran your fingers through his hair, now the heated kiss becoming lazy until you bit his lip, catching him by surprise. When you pulled back breathlessly, he smirked. “Oh shut up, I know what you’re going to say.” You playfully pushed his chest.
The hangover the next day was going to be ridiculous but you didn’t care. The mystery man had you all over him, and he? All over you.
Rain violently bounced against the wall of your office. Across you sat Maisie, who happened to be an English lecturer. You were one of the lecturers, who had just finished your PHD in Media and Cultural Studies and when offered a job at the university, you couldn’t help yourself but stay. It was decent pay after all and after three years with the university, you realised your students loved you. There were wild lecturers in the school of arts department, who overshared and gladly you weren’t one of them but your students knew you well enough to seem relatable. However, you were hoping that today they would not quiz you on your hangover. Especially your seminar classes, they really loved hearing whatever you went through.
Right now, you sat at the table, head against the desk of your office while Maisie watched you groan.
“Oh my god.” Was all you could mumble. This was not how you wanted to spend your first week back of the second semester. Your head was pounding violently, you were nauseous, stomach turning. The only thing saving you was the cup of coffee you had in hand, after being forced to take an espresso shot, you were still practically dead. Maisie simply sat there shaking her head. God, she had no right to judge you after goading you into going out. “You should have known not to go hard on the drinks!”
“But...free…” The words fell from your lips.
“Javier gives free drinks all the time, I’m surprised it doesn’t get him fired. You should’ve known, he did this last time. Actually, that reminds me, where did you go last night?”
And then you remembered. You went off with a mystery man, an incredibly handsome mystery man. That, you were fortunate enough to remember. With your head against the table, you smirked, so your friend wouldn’t see.
“Don’t pretend as if we didn’t see you walking off and kissing that man, who by the way is a huge score! We spent all night fangirling about him.” Maisie said with excitement but all you could do was groan again, “Come on! You have to tell me! What happened?”
“Nothing happened.” You mumbled into your arms. Okay something happened but you still didn’t want to say anything.
“Don’t lie to me! You have to tell me, it was my birthday, meaning you have to tell me what YOU did on my day!”
You still refused to move. As your knight in shining armour, the Head of Faculty, Andrew stormed into the room, coffee mug and binder in hand. “Right! Who’s ready for a day full of learning ladies!” Maisie laughed as all you could let out was a groan.
“Oh, not you too!” He let out an irritated huff. “This is ridiculous. Seems like there’s a lot of hangovers going around this morning.”
“Really?” Maisie said, leaning forward with excitement.
“Yeah, I just got off the phone with the guest lecturer. He is bloody hungover too. Could hear it in his voice.” Shit. Guest lecturer. One of the senior lecturers decided to go on a research leave mid-year, which didn’t help your cause as you were left with over one hundred students needing attention. That is when the head of faculty, Andrew, who you adored, decided to call in a guest lecturer, an industry expert in the field to provide you with support. Only thing is, Andrew was unpredictable, so you didn’t know who he had in store. You only knew he was a pretty popular journalist in Europe. Weren’t you supposed to be meeting him before the class? “He said he’s going to be running late.”
Thank god for that. You didn’t need Andrew screaming at you about representing the university under a negative light. Before Andrew could get to scolding you, however, your alarm went off. Swiftly, you jumped up and swiped all your folders. “Class! Got to get to class!” Was all you could muster before leaving the room, and your colleagues, incredibly shocked.
Students filled the lecture hall for the first lesson of the semester, which didn’t surprise you. There were a lot of familiar faces as usual. A couple of new ones but most of the students knew when you were out of it and these were the ones present. Andrew followed you in, watching intently, hoping you wouldn’t screw this up. But everyone knew the rules. The moment your mug was placed against the desk, everyone was silent, eagerly listening to hear from you.
“Morning everyone! Welcome back, I hope you have all had a wonderful Christmas break! Just know that for many of you who took my module last year, yes, I am currently in the process of grading your assignments and the results will be distributed next week. However, I am not here to talk about that. Right now, it is time to turn over a new page! So, for those of you that don’t know me, I am Dr. Y/N Y/LN. I am totally cool without the whole formal title and I am a lecturer in Media and Cultural studies and welcome to my module Introduction to Investigative Journalism. This is where we’ll be in touch with some of the world’s most notorious cases from the role investigative journalism played in the portrayal of criminals from the likes of Charles Ponzi, Pablo Escobar, Charles Bronson to female serial killers such as Velma Barfield and Judy Buenoano. We will be looking at cold cases such as the murder of Olof Palme to the story of D.B. Cooper and corruption amongst transnational and multinational companies such as the fall of Wennerstrom. I know this feels like a criminology course and having the stomach would be ideal, however this is incredibly interesting if you want to look into serious crimes and learn about political corruption. I mean I didn’t have the stomach at first but you learn to live with it.” The students laughed. Andrew was in awe of how professional you managed to be but then again that is why the university needed you. They knew you were the young voice they needed to liven things up and get students intrigued, no matter how hungover or ill you were. “ Now, as you know, Dr. Woodbridge has taken a research leave so today, I believe that Andrew has called in a guest lecturer who will be here throughout the second half of the module to provide support and as an industry expert will hopefully be able to answer the questions you all will have.”
Andrew stepped forward, grinning from ear to ear as he headed to the centre. He gave you a wink to praise the way you pulled yourself together and turned to the rest of the class.
“Thank you very much, Y/N. Couldn’t have introduced the module better myself, you have me excited and I’m not even taking it! Anyway, without further ado, I am honoured to introduce to you all your guest lecturer today, he is an investigative journalist and co-owner of Swedish magazine, Millennium, Mikael Blomkvist!” The class gave an applause and so did you as the man walked through the door. Then your applause slowed...hang on a minute. Why did the name Mikael sound familiar? Mikael walked in with a smile, waving at the glass, sporting glasses and a warm cardigan, smiling but then he turned to you and then it hit you. This was YOUR mystery man!
#mikael blomkvist#daniel craig#mikael blomkvist x reader#the girl with the dragon tattoo#crime#fan fiction#romance#daniel craig x reader#james bond#James Bond 007
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Asano/F!Darling: Unconventional Methods (VI)
TW: Noncon/dubcon, unhealthy power dynamic, unhealthy relationship, abuse of authority, spanking
____ didn't mind Asano's smaller outside assignments that much, especially compared to that first lesson. She knew when they would come since he only ever sent them during her breaks or outside of work hours, and having time to write a response was less stressful than being put on the spot and having to look at him. Still...Asano's questions and requests were enough to make her squirm in her seat even when they weren't sexual.
"How many partners have you had, including the ex-boyfriend you mentioned? Were you sexually active with them as well?"
"Have you always lived on your own? Do you ever feel a desire to live with someone or feel intense loneliness at home?"
"Have you ever had a near-death experience?"
"Send a photo of the toy you mentioned using. Describe its function and how often you use it each week."
"Was your family life turbulent growing up?"
"Have you ever been struck during a sexual encounter (eg. Slapping, spanking, scratching) or experienced pain (eg. hair-pulling, biting)? If so, describe the action and how you responded to it."
That last one made her feel especially worried. She'd never done anything rougher than maybe getting her hair pulled and being called a cute little slut by her ex whenever he'd talk dirty to her. And compared to Asano, a black belt who famously defeated his teacher on his third day of class, her ex wasn't much of a fighter.
____ sighed and tried to focus on the papers she was supposed to be grading in 1A's classroom while the instructor taught the students. Principal Asano was just trying to make her uncomfortable by asking her, and probably by making her wonder if he really was planning on hurting her like that during one of his lessons. Speaking of which...it had been one week since her third lesson. The last two weren't as sexual as the first, but they were just as stressful. The second lesson was almost like a regular lecture, aside from the fact that she'd been completely nude the entire time. Asano had given her a small stack of education and psychology textbooks for her to annotate and study in his office while he watched her. Any time she moved the book up or hunched over the small table he'd provided for her to hide her breasts, he'd told her to sit up straight and she reluctantly obeyed.
The third lesson had involved her "shadowing" him while he did his own work; thankfully she got to keep her clothes on for this one, but she spent the entire time in his lap. Occasionally his hands would wander between her thighs to ghost against her panties, and eventually she noticed how he was subtly rocking his hips every so often while a slight bulge nudged her backside. It didn't seem to faze him in the slightest though; whenever he'd show her one of the documents he was working on or made a phonecall, his voice didn't seem tense or strained at all while she sat in his lap.
She understood why he needed to make her so uncomfortable, and he'd patiently explained to her more than once that her personal inexperience was why so many of these lessons were sexual--you're least comfortable when trying something new. But it still felt so wrong to do things like this, even if her boss explicitly said it was okay. Is that why she didn't want to ask any of her coworkers for advice or whether they thought this was an appropriate teaching method? Asano hadn't ever said to keep it secret, after all. Still...she'd have to admit that she and Asano had done all of these things together--on campus, in his office! Even if it was to make her a better teacher--and even if the other faculty members believed that--she could never look them in the eye ever again. ____'s face flushed with heat and she hurriedly made her way down the hall to Asano's office; maybe after this lesson she could ask him if she should discuss his program with any of the other teachers.
____ knocked at Asano's door and waited for him to reply. "Come in." Immediately she stepped inside, closed the door, and locked it from the inside; now that she'd had multiple lessons in his office, she had learned the routine for the start of his lessons. Asano was at his desk and peering at the documents in his hand. "Sit." He hadn't even looked up from his papers.
____ eagerly walked to the chair in front of his desk and sat with her legs crossed. "Um, sir," she began, "Before we start, I wanted to--"
"We've already started today's lesson," Asano interrupted, his voice soft but firm and commanding as ever. "Once we've finished, you can talk to me about your concerns."
____ pressed her lips together in a line and tried not to sound too bothered by him dismissing her so quickly. "What will today's lesson involve?" She prayed over and over in her mind: nothing sexual, nothing sexual, nothing sexual...
Asano finally glanced up from his papers to look her over, and ____ tried her best not to meet his gaze. "I want to see how well you've studied the books I lent to you," he said. "Nothing too exhaustive, just a cursory review with an oral quiz." He moved his seat back and rested his arms on either side of the chair. "Put yourself on my lap, facing down on your stomach."
____ hesitantly rose up and moved around the desk to lay down the way Asano had ordered. The arms of the chair pushed against her chest and upper thighs, but not enough to be anything more than mildly cumbersome. She flinched slightly when she felt his hand move to pull up the bottom of her skirt and expose her rear end to the cool air of his office. "S-sir?"
Asano moved one hand to rest over her back while the other cupped the soft flesh of her backside. "For every question you're unable to answer, you'll get a penalty." He squeezed her ass gently and felt ____ squirm as he toyed with her. "I'll guide you to a proper answer until you manage to discover it for yourself. First: Gardner's theory of multiple intelligences is not a theory applied to most schools in Japan. Tell me why you think that is."
____ shifted in her seat. Were all the questions going to be this open-ended? "Ah...L-let me see," she murmured. It was difficult to think straight when you were upside down and your boss was groping your ass. "Well, Gardner's theory is...u-um, it comes from a Western perspective of intelligence? Kunugigaoka's teaching methods are based heavily off of, of collectivism and group efforts being important. So it may not be applicable here?"
Asano pursed his lips. "Is collectivism solely an Eastern value? Not to mention, you're forgetting one of the cornerstones of our teaching methods is behaviorism--a concept theorized in Europe and the United States."
"Oh. That's true," ____ admitted. "I'm sorry, Asano-sa--"
A sudden smack against her ass startled her followed by a stinging pain made her tear up immediately. She'd never been hit this hard before, and she immediately felt a lump in her throat as she started to cry. "Apologize by considering a better answer," Asano said coldly. "Think carefully about how Gardner's theory contrasts with different policies and standards in Japan."
____ sniffled and cried as he had spoken, and continued to after he'd told her to try again. 'I...u-um, let me...I...A-Asano-san, I..." She tried to think about the question, she really did. "I've never been spanked before, th-this really hurts..."
Asano gently rubbed the place he'd struck her and she let out a small whine; even him comforting her hurt. "It's a new experience, and an effective one," he said. "You're more likely to remember and retain what I say with a physical trigger." He squeezed her ass and felt her squirm again. "Try again."
____ bit the inside of her cheek and tried to ignore the sting and the heat coming from her skin. "Um. Gardner's theories...they imply that each type of intelligence is...a student with one strength does better with a different type of learning method, and a student with a different one would do better with an-another one," she rambled. "But school exams only test the ability to retain a-and apply information. A...a student with high kinetic intelligence, they might struggle on a written exam be-because it tests a different set of skills. R-right?" She looked up at Asano as best as she could for a sign that she had given the right answer.
Asano smiled and tucked a piece of stray hair behind her ear. "A much better answer," he confirmed. "A school setting emphasizes and values different types of intelligence over others, and so does society as a whole." Asano squeezed and played with her upper thigh, and ____ felt his fingers coming closer and closer to between her legs until he was pressing against her clothed slit. "At Kunugigaoka however, I've tried to incorporate the needs of students who aren't gifted with the natural intelligence that exams cover. Even if a student's resistant to conventional teaching and study methods, I've found that a forceful approach can work through that rigidity." He smirked and felt ____ squeeze her thighs around his hand as a he played with her clit. "Next question."
____ tried to gather her thoughts as best as she could while being toyed with over Asano's knee. Shouldn't she be answering these questions while NOT being so distracted? How is she supposed to give a proper response when he's touching her and groping her like this? "S-sir, I understand the purpose of being spanked--um, struck? Learning with a physical trigger. But it's distracting me and I can't focus on what I've studied..."
Asano nodded and slipped some of his fingers past her underwear, pulling them down to press directly against her cunt. She gasped through her nose and felt a wave of shame after she felt her body clench around his fingertips. "That's the point," Asano explained patiently. "If you've studied properly then you should be able to recall information easily, even under stress." He could feel a small bit of lubrication around her entrance making it easier to slip the tip of his middle finger inside. "You did study, didn't you?"
"Y-yes," ____ insisted. "I just didn't think it would be this...ah, this..." She trailed off and whimpered at the feeling of his finger rubbing against a sensitive spot; she didn't even realize that she had started to rock her hips back and forth in time with his hand. "Sir, please!"
Asano narrowed his eyes at ____ as he continued to play with her with one hand. He knew she wasn't experienced with this kind of stimulation, but that wasn't any excuse to act so childishly. "Please? Please do what? I can't stop just because you're uncomfortable, you know that. Now, for the next question. The study conducted on adolescents aged 12 and 13 is referenced often in chapter 3 of the textbook on memory I sent you. The two students in the study failed to keep up with the lessons during the experiment and suffered nervous breakdowns from the strain of the coursework. Why do the authors frame this as something positive?"
____ tried to remember the article he was asking about, but her thoughts were clouded and scattered as she felt a creeping feeling of pleasure and tension in her core. What was that article about? Not memory, that was the one in chapter 2...No, it was about the correlation between classroom size, curriculum density, and...and short class periods? "Ah...The students who had breakdowns," she started, not even sure of what she was trying to say. "The authors theorized it was b-because the intensity of the material being covered and the short--ooh...short class periods. U-um, the teaching method focused on parallel thinking and had them all studying multiple things at the same t-time, and the two students couldn't take...couldn't take it anymore..."
____ let out a frustrated groan and tried to move her hips away from Asano's hand. "Please, I can't," she insisted. "I can't do both at the same time, I can't think when you--"
Asano pulled her hips back into place and quickly covered her mouth with one hand before slapping her ass again. She screamed and started to sob against the palm keeping her somewhat quiet. "You aren't answering the question, you're re-stating it," he said irritably. "Not only that, but you're interrupting the lesson by moving away like that." He raised his hand again and ____ instinctively tried to move out of the way and tried to reach up and block him from hitting her; his eyes darkened and in one swift movement, he pushed her over against the desk and gripped her wrists behind her back while keeping his other hand on her mouth.
"You've disrupted my lesson twice now," he said icily. "If you're so eager to act like an unruly child and throw a tantrum, I'm more than happy to put it on hold to correct this." He dug his nails into the flesh of her wrists and she screamed again. "I'm going to let go of your wrists, and you're going to keep your hands on this desk until I tell you to put then behind your back. Do you understand?"
____ clenched her fists and tried her best to nod while her head was turned to the side against his desk while she continued to cry. This already hurt so much, and she couldn't imagine what he'd do if she tried to run out of the room or fight back. "Mm...Mhh-mm." She sniffled and choked back some of her sobs to try and respond. Asano, true to his word, let go of her wrists and she immediately placed them on the edge of the desk. Her knuckles lightened as she gripped the wood as hard as possible, and the ache of her hands distracted her from the sting of her lower thighs and the strain on her neck and upper body being pressed against his desk.
After a few seconds, she felt his hand take one of her wrists; a strip of cloth was in his hand, and she felt it brush against her own skin. "Behind your back," he ordered. ____ complied and put her hands together again. She felt the silk of Asano's tie wrap around her and tighten until it was firmly keeping her wrists bound. He took her by the crook of her arm and moved his other hand to let her breathe more easily through her nose while he kept her mouth covered. "Back in the chair."
Soon she was back in his lap, though this time her hands were in an uncomfortable raised position thanks to his necktie. "Obviously you're not able to continue with the quiz I had in mind today," Asano said, sighing in disappointment. "Still, I'm not going to cut our lesson short just because of your outburst." ____ felt a few more tears well up at just how upset and disappointed he sounded in her. She didn't want to be a brat. She didn't want to disrupt his lesson, but she just couldn't think straight. "Instead, we'll be reviewing something much more elementary to match your attitude." Her heart sank as she felt his hand rest on the curve of her ass again. "The two of us are going to count. I think that ten should be high enough."
____ caught a glimpse of his hand as he raised it up and bit her lower lip to try and steel herself before he spanked her again. The harsh slap of skin against skin followed by a new rush of aching pain left her sobbing pathetically underneath him. His voice was soft and eerily cheery as he brushed a few fingers over where he'd hit her. "One."
Slap. "Two."
Slap. "Three."
____ heard the rush of blood roaring in her ears until she could hear nothing else, not even the spankings or her own crying. It sounded so far away, just like Asano's voice. "Four...five..."
The breaks in between each spanking grew longer and longer, and Asano could hear her wails become less and less loud and obnoxious until they died down to short whimpers after each slap. Her lips were slightly parted behind his hand, but she wasn't pouting and wincing anymore; it seemed that she'd spent all of her energy and her tantrum had finally subsided. He peered down at her slightly-tilted head and noted the glazed-over look in her visibly reddened eyes as she stared off into space. Dissociation was a common side effect when it came to his students, a clear sign that they were at their limit and--even better--their minds were much easier to mould now that their subconscious was preoccupied elsewhere. For ____ in particular, it was a key step in training her. Right now she had learned she couldn't resist him, and with the right positive and negative reinforcement she'd learn to love his guiding hand.
"Six." Smack.
"Mm..."
"Seven." Smack.
"Mmm."
An impulsive part of him, specifically the part responsible for the slight tent in his pants as he watched her stare blankly and become more and more compliant and complacent with each strike. She clearly wasn't cut out to teach, not with how well she fit in his lap and how satisfying it was to hear her soft moans. He imagined how much better it would be to see her transition from resistant and defiant, to blank and defeated, and finally to eager and adoring once he'd finally finished grooming her into his ideal "protégé."
"Eight...Nine...Ten."
#.assassination classroom#yandere assassination classroom#yandere asano#.asano#asano's darling#fem darling#tw: noncon#.myshit
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Doctors in Danger
Pairing: Natalie Manning x Best Friend! reader (plus Crockett Marcel x reader)
Summary: Y/N and Natalie are kidnapped just before their shift at Chicago Med, so Will and Crockett work with the CPD to try and get them back
Requested: Yes, by anonymous
Warnings: slight swearing, mentions of injuries, blood, and guns
Word Count: 1,826 Words
Note: This takes place during Chicago Med Season 5 Episode 6, Who Should Be the Judge
Reverse Perspective Story Link Here
....................................
“All I’m saying is that he’s totally into you,” Natalie spoke as the two of us climbed out of her car. My car was in the shop this week, and since Natalie and I were best friends, and we had the same shifts, she agreed to drive me to and from work. But I was no regretting that decision because of the conversation it led to.
I rolled my eyes. “Crockett isn’t into me, Nat. And I’m not into him either.”
“You called him Crockett,” Natalie pointed out.
“Yeah. And?” I ask.
“You call all the guys by their last name. To you, Will is known as Halstead, and Ethan is known as Choi. So why don’t you call Crockett by his last name?” Natalie asked.
“You know, I think I hear Maggie calling us in the ED,” I interject to get out of the conversation.
“No no no. You are not getting out of this,” Natalie stated. Just before she could say another word, a middle aged man ran up to us. I should also probably note that his hands were covered in blood, and there was also some of the red substance staining his dark gray hoodie.
“Help! Help, please!” the man begged.
“Sir, what's going on?” I quiz.
“My wife. She's in labor. She's bleeding real bad,” the man replied and started walking off. Natalie and I glanced at each other, and both of us shared the same look. With that, we followed after that man, who led us down an alley and over to a big blue van. The front of the car was pretty busted, making me believe there had to have been a car crash that took place.
"Were you in an accident?” I ask. The man nodded, not giving me any more information. As I neared the van, I started getting nervous. Something didn’t seem right.
“Did she have problems with her pregnancy before today?” Natalie questioned.
“I’m not sure,” the man responded curtly. When we reached the back of the van, the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. I got the feeling that something bad was about to happen, and my fears came true when the man opened up the back of the van to reveal another guy whose leg was bleeding badly, and he had a gun pointed at us. I turned around to see if Nat and I could run away, but the man from earlier was blocking the exit, and he also had a gun aimed at us. “Give me your phones, and get in,” the man demanded.
“W-what?” I stammer out.
“Give me your phones and get in the van!” the man ordered again. This time I didn’t hesitate, and once I handed the uninjured man my phone, I climbed into the back of the van. Natalie climbed in seconds later with the door shutting behind her, and the unharmed man jumped in the driver’s seat, revving the engine. And with that, he stepped on the gas and drove off.
......................................
“Well, since we’re going to be here for what looks like a long time, can we at least know your names?” I ask.
“My name’s Jim,” the driver greeted. “And that’s my brother Tyler, so you better not let him die.” I sighed and turned to Natalie, who was holding pressure to Tyler’s leg, but by the looks of it, he was still bleeding pretty badly.
“Shit,” I curse upon further examination of the wound. “He nicked his femoral vein. Jim, we need a surgeon for this.”
“Well we’re not going to a hospital, so you’ll just have to make due,” Jim retorted.
“Y/N, you work with Crockett a lot. You’ve seen enough traumas to last a life time. You’ve got this,” Natalie assured me.
I nodded and took a deep breath. “You’re right. Hand me that paint brush.” Natalie handed me the paint brush that was lying around, and with a loose piece of fabric, I tied it to Tyler’s leg, forming a tight tourniquet. “Okay, you won’t take us to the hospital, but what about the pharmacy right down the road? We need supplies.”
“The security's too tight there,” Tyler noted. “Is there still a gas station on Cermak, Jimmy?”
“Y-yeah,” Jim stuttered. “We’ll go there.” A few minutes later, Jim stopped the car in the parking lot of a gas station, and I turned to Natalie.
“All right, I need you to make sure his leg stays elevated,” I inform her.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. She comes with me. You stay here,” Jim commanded.
“Listen, I know what to get,” I start, only to be cut off by Jim, who aimed his gun at Natalie.
“Cuff her,” Jim told Natalie and tossed her some handcuffs with his free hand. “Do it!”
“Okay,” Natalie muttered and trapped one of my hands in the cuff. Before she could cuff my other hand, Jim stopped her.
“No, no. Hands above her head. That bar,” Jim ordered and motioned to the bar above my head. Natalie nodded and followed his instructions, and seconds later, she exited the van with Jim, leaving me alone with Tyler. Minutes passed, and suddenly, Tyler lost consciousness just before Natalie and Jim got back into the van.
“What the hell did you do?” Jim asked me.
“Nothing!” I argue. “He just passed out.” Natalie rubbed his fist along Tyler’s sternum, and just like that, he woke regained consciousness.
"See? He's alive, okay? But his calf is rock solid. We need to move,” Natalie exclaimed.
“I also need my hands to work,” I add.
“Pull around the corner,” Tyler declared to his brother. Once we got parked, and I was uncuffed, I cleaned Tyler’s wound with alcohol, and Natalie stopped the bleeding with a blow torch. It wasn’t much, but it was all we could do at the moment. I thought that after we helped out Tyler, Jim would let us go, but I guess that wasn’t the case because Jim just kept driving. The car didn’t stop until we pulled into a driveway. Jim then parted ways and left us with Tyler, who forced us inside of a red brick house. In the living room, there was a younger man lying down in a bed with wires connected to him. He looked severely ill, and my guess was that he was dying.
“He's ill. Maybe we can help him,” I offer.
Tyler shook his head. “You can't. Grab these chairs. Put them back to back and sit down.”
“But we can help,” Natalie interrupted.
“Just do it. Please,” Tyler pleaded. Natalie and I shared another look and followed his orders, placing the chairs back to back before sitting down. Tyler then cuffed our hands together and to our chairs so that neither of us could move. For awhile, Natalie and I just sat there, watching as Tyler spoke to his dying son. But finally, I heard sirens echoing outside, and I knew that help was here.
“Tyler, this is Detective Jay Halstead with the Chicago Police Department. We have you surrounded. I want you to come out the front door with your hands where we can see them. No one's going to shoot you unless they have to. I know you're with Natalie Manning and Y/N L/N. As an act of good faith, have them come out first. If you don’t do as we ask, we will breach the house,” Jay announced.
“Here. Uncuff her,” Tyler said and tossed me a pair of keys. I turned to the side and unlocked the handcuffs, freeing them from Natalie’s hand. “Okay, you can go.”
“Go,” I breathe out to Natalie.
“What? No. I’m not leaving you,” Natalie countered.
“Nat, please,” I beg. “Do as he says. I’ll be okay.” Natalie hesitated and didn’t move from her chair. “Natalie, I’m begging you. Get out of here.” Natalie paused again, but this time she listened and headed to the front door before disappearing outside. For a few seconds, Tyler and I sat in silence, but I finally spoke up.
“I’m sorry about your son,” I confess. “I didn’t know him at all, but I’m sure he didn’t deserve this. Hell, nobody does.” Tyler turned to me, his gun pointed at my head, and for a moment, I thought he was going to shoot me. However, he did quite the opposite.
“Go,” Tyler murmured and nodded towards the door. I uncuffed my hand, the handcuffs clattering to the floor, and stood up, making my way towards the exit. Just before I could get there, I turned around to find Tyler holding the gun at his head.
“No!” I cry out and rushed towards him, grabbing his hand that was holding the gun. A small scuffle then took place between the two of us, and it ended with one single gunshot.
.....................................
“Y/N!” Natalie sobbed and launched herself into my arms. “I’m so glad you’re okay. You had me worried.”
“I’m fine,” I assure her. “I promise.”
“Y/N!” another voice called out. I turned around just in time to be engulfed in a hug by the one and only Crockett Marcel. I melted into his embrace, glad to be in his arms. What Natalie had said earlier was true. I was into Crockett. He makes me feel different than Will and Ethan and all of the other guys I worked with do. He makes me feel special, something I hadn’t felt in a long time.
“Crockett? What are you doing here?” I question.
“Will and I, we were helping the CPD look for you,” Crockett answered. “I couldn’t just sit around while you were off being kidnapped. The whole day I’ve been worried out of my mind, thinking that something bad had happened to you, and to see that you’re okay-”
I cut Crockett off by leaning up and smashing my lips to his. Crockett responded almost immediately, his lips attacking mine hungrily. Our bodies were pressed closer together than ever before, and for a few moments, the two of us expressed how we felt for each other through our kissing. Finally though, we pulled away from each other.
“I uh, I know this is kind of a weird ask, but would you maybe want to hear how Natalie and I saved a guy’s leg? Perhaps over drinks?” I ask.
Crockett smiled. “I would love to hear about that. Saved a guy’s leg, huh? I didn’t know you were a surgeon.”
“I learned from the best,” I admit and smile up at him. “Now, about those drinks...”
Crockett laughed softly. “Let me take you back to your place first so you can clean up. Then we can get drinks. I promise.” I leaned up and pressed a peck to Crockett’s lips.
“Great. Then lets get going. After today, I really need some alcohol,” I state. And with that, the two of us left the crime scene to go have our first official date.
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Tag List:
@prettypyschoinpink @securityfriendly-jay @scarletsoldierrr @lorenakaspersen @virtualreader @carnationworld @caitsymichelle13 @king-crockett
#one chicago#one chicago x reader#one chicago imagine#one chicago imagines#chicago med#chicago med x reader#chicago med imagine#chicago med imagines#crockett marcel#crockett marcel x reader#crockett marcel imagine#crockett marcel imagines#natalie manning#natalie manning x reader#x reader#imagine#imagines
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“It’s going to be okay.”
I just did a couple of my comfort characters for this one. Send in requests if you want to see specific characters, I’d love to write for y’all’s comfort characters too 🤍
Haikyū!! Masterlist
Pairing(s): Suna Rintarō x Gender Neutral! Reader, Miya Atsumu x Gender Neutral! Reader, Tsukishima Kei x Gender Neutral! Reader, Bokuto Kōtarō x Gender Neutral! Reader, Oikawa Tōru x Gender Neutral! Reader
Warnings: Fluff/Comfort, Reader is stressed out because of jobs/midterms/college in general, reader cries
Suna Rintarō:
It had been a rough week.
It felt like everything was going wrong. Day in and day out.
It felt like the universe was hell bent on making you break, this past week.
You worked as a barista, while you got yourself through college.
Not an easy job, despite what some people liked to believe.
And with each day came a new promise.
Monday? A trip to the ER with second and third degree burns on your arms, when an angry customer had taken out their anger on you.
Tuesday? Your boss had yelled at you - humiliated you in front of the rest of your coworkers.
Wednesday? You ended up not realizing that yo were decorated in chocolate syrup, when you slumped on your bed, having to wash the sheets and most of you laundry, after.
Thursday? You’d tripped while at work and gotten to go home early, with your face burning in embarrassment at the snickers of other college students.
Friday? A pop quiz that you were 50% sure you failed.
Now it was Saturday, your studying? Done. Your assignments? Completed.
But you still felt the stress of the past week weighing on you.
So when you started tearing up, Suna couldn’t say he was surprised. He wished he could have made this past week easier for you.
Midterms were coming up, as well, just adding to the stress you were already feeling.
So, your boyfriend just does what comes natural to him, when it comes to you.
Rintarō doesn’t waste a moment when he returns from practice, spotting you slumped over on the couch, glaring at the floor while you tried not to let any tears fall from your eyes. With your choice comfort movie playing on the screen, he knew he had to do something.
Even if you had been pushing him away out of frustration, for the duration of this entire week.
Rintarō walks over to you and gently scoops you up in his arms, before sitting on the couch with you in his lap. Well-manicured nails begin to softly and affectionately run over your scalp, bringing a comfort to you that you could no longer deny you needed. Desperately.
He tugs you gently so you’re comfortable in his lap before he brings a calloused hand to your cheek, his thumb rubbing your cheekbone softly. He can’t help his sweet, soft smile as he sees the first tears trickle down your cheeks. He normally hated to see you cry, but he knew that you needed to get this out.
Sometimes, people just needed to scream and cry to get pent up emotion out. So when you started sobbing, completely collapsing against your boyfriend’s chest, he pulls you as close to him as you can possibly get, rocking you as he cradles your body against his own.
“There’s my baby, let it out...” His tone is soft as his hand holds your head against his chest. “Let it all out. It’s going to be okay. I’m here and I’ve got you.”
He doesn’t quite know how long it is until your sobs quiet down, the crying wearing you out, but it doesn’t matter to him. He snatches the remote up to restart the movie that you’d failed to get through, earlier, before tossing that same remote across the couch so he could readjust your bodies.
Leaning his shoulders and head against the pillow and armrest, he reclines himself, allowing you to get comfortable on top of him. As you rest on him, he brings a hand to your cheek once again, wiping away any remnants of the tears that had previously decorated your cheeks.
“It’s going to be okay, baby. I promise.”
Miya Atsumu:
Being stressed around your boyfriend?
Unheard of.
Atsumu is a perceptive little shit who picks up on the smallest changes in your mood.
And he will do everything in his power to reassure you, or cheer you up, whatever you need.
So, it’s not built up stress that gets you.
No, it’s the phone call you get in the middle of the night, while you’re resting in Atsumu’s arms.
You and Atsumu put your phones on do not disturb/bedtime mode every night.
Very few people are set up so that your phone will ring, when they call.
So, you end up waking up pretty quickly at the sound of a familiar ringtone, Atsumu sleepily sitting up beside you as you sit up to take the call.
Your best friend.
Who had just been admitted to the hospital after a car crash.
They were most likely going to make it, but they were still undergoing surgery and you knew that anything could happen.
You were her emergency contact so they called you from the ambulance.
Not too long after, you found out that the other person was undergoing surgery and probably wouldn’t make it.
The realization that that could have been your best friend made you feel like you couldn’t breath.
Atsumu had been watching your frantic pacing for the past ten minutes, watching you work yourself up more and more. You were shaking, though you hadn’t turned to him yet, like you always did, when you needed comfort. And he was too scared to make it worse.
Until he heard how your breath caught in your throat, once again, nearly sounding like you were about to start hyperventilating. Standing, the tall volleyball player comes to stop in front of you, gently grasping your wrists in his hands to make you look at him. He doesn’t say anything as you let out a shaky breath and crumble against him, just falling into his open arms.
Cradling you against him with his large palm at the back of your head, he lets you get out the emotions that were pent up, soft sobs being let out against his shoulder. Pressing a kiss to your temple, he whispers soft words of encouragement. “They’re going to be okay, sweetheart. It’s going to be okay, I promise. And have I ever broken my promises to you?”
With a shake of your head, your sobs quiet and all that’s left escaping you are quiet sniffles. If anyone was able to calm you, it’d be your Tsumu. There wasn’t a bad day you could remember that he hadn’t made things better. Your boyfriend always knew what to say... When it came to you, at least.
It wasn’t ten minutes later when a doctor came out to let you know that the surgery had been a success and that your friend was okay.
They’d be asleep for a few hours, allowing you to go home and change from your pajamas, if you would like. You didn’t catch that bit with the immediate relief that flooded through you.
You both did end up going home to shower and change, wanting to get you both and your friend some food on your way back. As soon as you were in the comfort of your own home, Atsumu took your face in his hands, cradling your cheeks and gently stroking your cheeks with his thumbs.
“As long as I’m around, I am going to make sure that everything works out in the end. I don’t like seeing you cry and I don’t like seeing you stressed out. You’re my significant other and I’m going to take care of you.” He reassures you earnestly. “It’s all going to be okay, I promise.”
And as his arms wrap around you, pulling you into his chest, you know that it is, in fact, all going to be okay. You had Atsumu and he had you.
Tsukishima Kei:
Mid-terms aren’t shit.
Not only are the tests long, and hard, and stressful,
But both you and Kei had them.
And both you and Kei had attitudes - especially when it came to either of you getting stressed out.
So, you both decided to stay and study on your own for the most part, until exams were over.
It was only a week, after all, how much harm could a single week do to the two of your mental states?
A lot, apparently.
It was Kei who caved first, surprisingly, needing to see you.
It was actually pretty unsurprising, boy is whipped for you.
Grabbing his keys, he tugs on the hoodie you’d gotten him for his birthday, along with grabbing you matching one that you’d left at his place.
Then he leaves, his usual preference to wear pants rather than sweatpants, when he left his home, being overpowered by his craving to see you.
And he knew you needed to see him too.
But if anyone was more stubborn than he was about things, it was you and he knew you weren’t going to cave anytime soon.
What he didn’t expect when he entered your home was to find you crying into your hands, in a pile of your own notes, with your computer in front of you.
He furrowed his brows - you had overwhelmed yourself...
Because he hadn’t been here to prevent you from it.
Kei sighs as he listens to the clanking of keys together, his attempts to unlock the door to your apartment failing multiple times, before finally ending in success. At least he knew no one would ever break into your apartment. They wouldn’t be able to get in.
Look at him, he’d been over here a dozen times and it still took him about three minutes to manage your locks open. You must know how much he loved you with the fact he still put up with it. He enters the home, near silently, placing the strawberry shortcakes and milkshakes down on the counter, his keys being hung beside yours. Walking past your kitchen, he freezes in the doorway, hearing your quieted sobs before he sees you.
He had never, not even in his years of playing volleyball, moved as quickly as he did in that moment. He moved to kneel in front of where you were seated on the couch, taking your laptop and shutting it.
Kei knew you hadn’t opened your eyes, or moved your hands from shielding your face to see him, but you knew it was him with the way you slid off of the spot on the couch to kneel on the floor, your face finding familiar purchase in his neck.
“I’m not around for a few days and you manage to overwork yourself like this. God damn it, Y/N, don’t do this again.” His words, no matter if they should have sounded angry, just came out worried.
You knew that the only person he was mad at was himself for even suggesting the idea of you both spending time studying individually.
“I’m right here, okay? I’m not going to be going anywhere,” placing a large hand on the back of your head, he gently kisses the crown of your head. “It’s going to be okay, I promise.”
“It’s all going to be okay,” his soothing voice calms you quite a bit, making your body slump against his in relaxation. “There’s my shortcake. Just relax, alright. We’ll study more later. In the meantime, we’re going to watch a movie and eat the sweets I brought. I don’t want you to think about those god damn exams.” Your nod in confirmation is all he needs to get you both comfortable on the couch so he can take care of his partner... Like he should have been going this entire time.
Bokuto Kōtarō:
Kōtarō, despite people thinking he’s not the smartest, is a very intelligent person.
Especially when it comes to emotional intelligence.
Which is why he figured out about your family issues, within a month.
Poor boy wished he could do something, though other than the constant sleepovers in high school, there wasn’t much else he could do. It broke his heart.
But that changed, when you both graduated high school together.
He didn’t allow you to stay any longer in that house. You’d dealt with the constant yelling and the lack of care for your feelings, long enough.
Though, that didn’t mean you’d escaped it when you went to reunions or to visit them on holidays.
They always managed to drag you into going.
And they always managed to drag you into their bullshit.
Kōtarō hadn’t been able to go to this year’s reunion - a practice game held him up.
His presence usually encouraged your family member to back the fuck off and not drag you into things.
But, this time...
He was just glad he’d gotten there when he did.
Pulling up in the driveway of the designated home of this particular family reunion, he could hear the yelling, as soon as he stepped out of his car. The volleyball player tensed up as he quickly walked towards the home, throwing the door open without care.
Kōtarō wished you wouldn’t put yourself through this. You didn’t deserve it. He enters the living room, most of the arguing falling silent at his presence, already knowing that he wouldn’t hesitate to get on them for their bullshit. Walking over to you, where you sat, slumped at the dinner table, your head in your hands, he frowns.
He wasn’t surprised when he found tears in your eyes as he gently picked your head up to look at him. A frown befalls him, once again and he guides you to stand, pulling you into his embrace, his hand holding your head against him, practically cradling you.
He holds you for a few long moments to let you calm down, before he turns towards your family, letting you go so he can take your hand. “We’re leaving. They’re tired.”
No one argues. They’d seen how angry Kōtarō got when it came to you and they didn’t want to face the wrath of the angry volleyball player.
Without another word from you both, or spoken to you both, Kōtarō escorts you out of the house. As soon as you’re out, you can hear the yelling ensue, once again. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here,” he whispers as he pulls you into him, once again. “It’s going to be okay.” He whispers to you, pressing his lips to the crown of your head.
“I promise. We’ll go home and take a long bath... We can make some cookies and relax. We can even watch some Disney movies and make a pillow fort. How’s that sound, my sweet owl?” Kōtarō cooes as he begins to walk you to the car, smiling at you as he noticed how relaxed you seemed to be out, away from them and with your fiancé.
No matter if he could help your family’s constant fighting, he’d always be here to whisper soft reassurances to you and make sure that everything was okay.
Oikawa Tōru:
Dating Tōru isn’t easy.
Living over 18,000 kilometers from one another was no easy feat.
Somedays are easier than others.
And this wasn’t one of those ‘easier’ days.
No, not at all.
Instead, today is one of those days that you tug on Tōru’s old volleyball jacket and bury your nose in the collar, hopping it’ll smell somewhat like him.
One of those days that you watch his dazzling face appear on the screen of your television and pretend he’s here with you.
It’s one of those days that you shoot him an ‘I miss you’ text and he’s unable to reply.
You both make it work because you love one another and want to watch the other succeed and do what they love.
But sometimes, it would be so much easier if you both lived on the same continent.
What you didn’t realize was that he hadn’t been to reply to you, because he was caught up getting his stuff off of the plane and into a car.
He was exhausted, but excited to see you.
He wasn’t expecting to come home and find you asleep on your couch, wrapped up in his jacket with dried tears on your cheeks.
Tōru dropped his bags at the door - he could worry about them later, right now he needed to get to you. With his signature grin, he walks through the kitchen, “Cutie,” he cooes through the apartment, before halting as he enters your living room, head tilting like a confused puppy’s would as he spotted you.
His brows furrow and a frown crosses his lips, walking over to you and dropping to his knees in front of your sleeping form on the couch. He brings his hand up to gently stroke your cold cheek. “Y/N...” He cooes as he caresses your face, waiting for you to stir. Once you begin to open your eyes, a smile returns to his face, seeing your excitement overpower the sleepiness in your features.
“You’re here...” You whisper, pushing yourself forward to hug your fiancé, no matter how unconventional this position was for you both. “I missed you,” you mumble into the soft cloth of his shirt, inhaling deeply. Peppermint. He always smelled like peppermint and it was a scent you had immensely missed.
“I missed you too, cutie... But it’s okay. I’m here, now.” Tōru reassures, shifting so that he can scoop you up into his arms while you curl up into him.
Not hesitating to want to fall asleep with you in his arms, once again, he brings you to the bedroom, dropping you onto the bed and pulling out comfier clothes for the both of you. Unpacking could wait later. Explanations of the vacation he was taking could wait. You being comfortable and in his arms was all he wanted.
He undresses you, putting one of his shirts on you, before he undresses, as well, pulling on a pair of sweatpants, before he pulls back the covers and slides under them with you.
Long, toned arms come to wrap themselves securely around you, pulling you into a tanned chest. “I missed you so much... But I’m here now, alright?” He whispers to you, kissing your head with a tenderness that only you got to see from the Argentinian volleyball player.
“Go to sleep, we’ll talk when you wake up.”
It was safe to say you fell asleep peacefully in his arms, finding peace in the fact that you’d soon be happily waking up in his arms.
General Taglist:
@thathoneybee3 @bratkugo
#🤍.suna#saffron's works#suna rintarō x reader#suna rintarō comfort#suna comfort#atsumu miya x reader#atsumu miya comfort#atsumu comfort#tsukishima comfort#tsukishima kei comfort#tsukishima kei x reader#bokuto kōtarō x reader#bokuto kōtarō comfort#bokuto comfort#oikawa tōru comfort#oikawa tōru x reader#oikawa comfort#haikyū!! comfort#haikyū!! x reader#haikyū!! fluff
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Obsession (Part II) ▪︎ Dark!James Potter x Reader
《 harry potter fandom • dark!james potter x reader • marauders era 》
☆ you are responsible for your media consumption. this content has extreme warnings / triggers. this content may make some people uncomfortable. please be safe and take warnings seriously. if you need help or need to talk to someone, i am available for anyone ☆
♡ warnings: noncon/dubcon, sexual obsession, delusional obsession, physical abuse, mentions of death, definitely 18+ ♡
《 summary: when the reader does not reciprocate love for James Potter, he snaps into a complete delusional obsession with her. 》
○ part one: ○
-
James had fallen asleep holding you. You don't know how you managed to get away from him without him waking up, but you did. You ran harder than you'd ever ran before. Partly from fear, but partly because it felt good to feel your heart pound against your chest. It reminded you that you were still alive. You were almost back into the castle when you collapsed onto the stone ground, unable to move your legs any further. Your whole body felt like jello, similarly to your mind, which was in some distant land refusing to return to accept the events that had occurred. You were sobbing and shaking uncontrollably. You were so far gone, you didn't even feel Severus' arms when they wrapped themselves around you and picked you up. You buried your face into his chest as he carried you to the hospital wing.
-
James awoke in a panic, feeling you not in his arms. He looked around, realizing you were long gone. He should have gone to look for you, but he couldn't help but stop to smile at the thought of you. He could still taste you on his tongue, smell your perfume on his clothes, feel the shape of your lips against his, hear your soft moans. He got hard just thinking about the expression you had when he made you come.
"She loves me," he reminded himself.
He stood up, grabbing your bookbag from under the tree before confidently strolling back down to the castle. He made his way to his dormitory, setting your bag down and sitting on his bed. His mind continued to be overwhelmed with the thought of you. He reached into your bookbag, curiosity overcoming him. He pulled out random study books, stopping when he reached the potions one. He flipped it open, a note falling out of the front page. He opened it, seeing it was a note from Snape.
"I know you are upset you got a bad mark on the last quiz. The professor only gave you a bad mark because you're better than them. Seriously, (y/n), you are amazing at potions making. One day, you'll be working as the Potions Master and I'll be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts and we'll be able to give bad marks to all the kids we don't like. Keep your head up. - Severus"
James slammed the book shut and hastily put it back in your book bag. He was furious that someone would talk to his girl like this. He was furious that you would keep a note like this from someone like Snape. He crumpled the note, tossing it into your bag as Sirius, Remus, and Peter came running into the room.
"Where have you been?" Remus asked, clearly stressed.
"Where have you been?" James retorted, his anger from the note translating into his question.
"(Y/N) is in the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey won't tell us anything. We've been trying to look for you!" Sirius said.
"Come on!" Remus called out, already making his way out of the room.
James quickly followed them, his mind racing with worry for his girl. What could have possibly happened since he saw her last? He thought to himself as they all quickly made their way to the hospital wing. When they arrived, James saw Snape sitting outside of the room. Anger immediately filled him. He knew he would have killed him if it was his fault (y/n) was hurt. He went to confront him, but Sirius grabbed his shoulders roughly.
"Come on."
They all walked into the room. James saw you curled up in the corner of the room and his heart broke for you. He wanted to wrap you up in his arms and never let go.
"(Y/N)? What happened?" Sirius asked.
"No visitors!" Dumbledore yelled.
James looked at you, waiting for you to look back at him, waiting for you to tell the headmaster you wanted him to stay, but you never did. They left the room, the door slamming shut behind them. James thought of you, how you had gone from happy in his arms to the broken girl in the hospital wing. He looked over at Severus, anger immediately engulfing him.
"Snivellus," he called out antagonistically.
He began making his way over to him, but Remus grabbed his arm and held him back.
"Not now, James. Severus is the one who brought her here. He helped her," Remus explained.
"What happened, Snape?" Sirius asked.
"I don't know," Severus responded, his voice showing his irritation.
He clearly did not want to deal with the four idiots. He was more focused on his friend's safety.
"When I found her, she was..." he broke off, having a hard time thinking of the state he had seen his strong friend in. "Someone assaulted her."
James tried to push past his friends to get to Severus, but they held him back.
"Stop!" Sirius yelled. "This is not what she needs right now!"
James ran a hand through his hair, trying to control his anger. Dumbledore opened the door and looked between all of the boys.
"Mr. Snape, you are being requested."
It took everything for James to suppress his anger as Snape stood and entered the hospital wing. The door shut and James mind raced with ideas that only fueled his rage. He remembered how your body felt as you came, he remembered how it felt to slip his cock into you, and then he imagined Snape doing the same things to you. He imagined you moaning his name, kissing his lips. James imagined rushing through the doors and smashing his face then grabbing your face and kissing you. James walked up to the hospital wing door, trying to swing it open, but it wouldn't budge.
"Dumbledore put a charm on it, James. It won't open," Remus explained. "Come on. We'll come back tomorrow."
-
You laid curled up on the bed in the corner of the dark hospital wing, unable to sleep. Severus had left at curfew and you could feel the loneliness echoing off of the room, you wished he could have held you forever. At least in his arms, you felt safe, you felt like someone was looking out for you. You were lost in your thoughts, enslaved by the memories of the night.
The door to the hospital wing slowly creeped open, a sliver of light from the corridor shining through. Adrenaline poured into your system, intensifying every feeling in your body. You reminded yourself of the enchantment Dumbledore had placed over the room. You reminded yourself you were safe.
"Sev?" You called out. "Is that you?"
The door opening widened, but there was no one there. You sat up in the bed, looking intently at the door as if to see if it was truly open or if your mind was deceiving you. You went to stand to close it, but you were stopped in your tracks. You heard footsteps slowly making their way closer towards you. You pushed yourself back on the bed, your back firmly against the headboard. At the foot of your bed, the invisibility cloak slowly lifted, revealing James. You were locked in place, unable to move or scream even though you wanted to.
"Baby, what's wrong?" James asked, his voice sending shivers down your spine.
He moved to sit beside you on the bed. He wasn't touching you, but your skin crawled with the memory of his last touch.
"Get out," you said firmly, somehow finding the strength.
"Get out?" James laughed. "Come on, baby. You know you want me here. Otherwise, how would I have gotten in?"
You never knew confusion was such an intense emotion until that moment. You tried to deny it, but remembered the charm. Did you want him here? Did you want him? Your thoughts were broken by James' hand grabbing your thigh, his thumb gently caressing your skin. You reached for his hand to push it away, but he caught it, bringing it up to his lips. You pulled away aggressively, but James didn't seem to notice.
"Stop, James."
His eyes were focused on your lips as he moved closer to you. He grabbed your ankle, pulling you down onto the bed as he hovered over you. His hand went to your face, cupping it softly. You pushed against his chest, trying to push him off. You could feel his hard on pressing against your stomach.
"James, get off of me! Please, stop!" You screamed.
"Don't do that, baby," he soothed. "I love you. And you love me, you know that."
His hand moved down to your neck as he pressed his lips against yours.
You jolted up in a panic, looking around the empty room frantically. You were out of breath, your throat dry and sore. You pressed the palms of your hands against your forehead, imprudently trying to force the nefarious memories and thoughts from your mind. You spent the rest of the night with your eyes searching the dark, empty room for any sign of movement, paranoid your nightmare would become a reality and you would be forced to relive your worst experience all over again. Somehow, the castle now seemed to be home to many more ghosts.
-
You spent the next week in the hospital wing. Severus brought you all of the classwork you were missing so you were not falling behind. He spent as much time as he could with you, making you feel far less lonely. Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall were incredibly patient and understanding of the incident. They came to check on you at least once a day and never pressured you to leave the hospital wing. You knew it was time to return to your usual daily routine, but the idea of being forced to interact with James felt like a nightmare. You laid on the hospital bed, your books and parchment sprawled out as you worked.
“What happened to you?” Madam Pomfrey exclaimed, breaking your concentration and causing you to look up from your papers.
Severus walked through the doors with a vibrantly purple and black eye. His hair fell over it, but it was impossible to hide.
“It’s nothing,” he said. “I’m just here to visit (Y/N).”
Madam Pomfrey allowed him to walk past her, but continued to shake her head as she walked over to her healing potions on the side of the room, scanning through them for the appropriate one.
“What happened to you, Severus?” You asked, sitting up on the bed and immediately reaching your hand out to push his hair behind his ear. “That looks awful!”
“It’s nothing, (Y/N). Would you stop?”
He pushed your hand away as he sat on the bed next to you.
“Was it them? Tell me, Severus.”
“Why don’t we just focus on you? You’re the one in the hospital wing after all.”
“So are you now, Mr. Snape,” Madam Pomfrey stated. “Sit still and look up.”
Madam Pomfrey applied a thick cream to Severus’ eye. The colors dissipated and the swelling went down until eventually the ailment almost completely disappeared. By the time Madam Pomfrey finished treating Severus, it was time for him to leave for his next class. He grabbed his books and began walking out of the hospital wing.
“Wait-” You called out, surprising even yourself.
You collected you classwork before standing and making your way over to Severus.
“Are you leaving?” Madam Pomfrey asked, clearly contemplating whether to allow you to go.
“Yes, Madam. Thank you for everything,” You said before turning to a shocked Severus. “They know better than to mess with us when we’re together. Let’s go.”
#Harry Potter#harry potter dark fiction#harry potter noncon#dark severus snape imagine#severus Snape#Snape#severus#james potter noncon#james potter dark#dark james potter#James Potter#noncon fiction#noncon imagine#dark#Harry Potter imagine#James Potter imagine#mauraders#dark fiction#dark fic
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Whoops, I slipped into a follow up of this prompt.
--
“How’s the wrist?”
Such an innocuous question. It rings flat in the sharp crags that line the chasm between them, echoing hollowly between them. But it’s still more than he’d said Saturday night. More than he thought he’d say.
Betty, never one to let any pain shine through, smiles at him. Her face morphs into that perfect Cooper mask, no crack or wrinkle to suggest anything was out of the ordinary. It pierces his soul to realize that he doesn’t know how to read her anymore.
To him, she looks just as happy and carefree as the first day they’d met in third grade.
“Still sore, but no lasting damage,” she says, rolling her wrist as proof. Even her voice is peppy and varnished to perfection. “How’s your head?”
His hand moves without thought to his forehead, his fingertips grazing the ugly red mess. Jughead jerks his head to the right, a move practiced in the mirror this morning to ensure his hair covered the welt.
“Nothing an aspirin can’t take care of,” he mutters.
He raises his coffee cup to his lips to keep from mentioning the whisky and rye he’d fallen headfirst into, a palliative cure after she’d disappeared up the stairs, leaving nothing but confusion and nadir in her wake. The lingering hangover was still a symphony of banging pots and pans along his temples, a never-ending reminder of his regret (relief?) of doing nothing.
They sip their coffee in silence, waiting for the meeting to begin. The artificial bridge he’d thrown across the chasm between them frays, its tethers loosening. In less than a minute, it’s fallen into the yawning black hole that now lies between them.
Betty's words… no. Not that. It was his inaction. His confusion. His uncertainty that created this false rift between them. The gravity of it tugging and pulling at every second between them, every atom, every conceivable future between them, each a warped, stretched snapshot of a future never to be.
It was enough to make him want to crawl back into the bottle and never come out again. His hand shakes, an aftereffect of the late night drinking, and he shoves it deep into his pocket. Betty’s eyebrows draw too close together, too close to concern for his tastes.
Toni claps her hands together, and Betty shoots him one last curious look. He refuses to look at her, turning to refill his mug. When he turns back around, Betty is in her usual seat next to Archie, a plastic smile on her face. Jughead slouches against the counter, too lost in his own morbid thoughts to pay much attention to the upcoming game to notice the increasingly concerned glances Betty sends his way.
Jughead watches as his students shuffle in, the twins he affectionately calls Bill and Ted the only two showing any trace of life. The bell rings, a clanging, offensive noise that makes everyone wince. It’s doubtful he’s the only one nursing a hangover.
“How many of you did the reading?” he asks when they settle in.
A collective groan ripples throughout the room. He can’t blame them; he’d never been able to finish The Odyssey in high school either.
“Pop quiz time,” he says.
Another groan, this time with a rousing argument against it, echoes through his already pounding head. Jughead holds his hands up in a conciliatory gesture.
“I want you to write about betrayal.”
The class quiets, some exchanging glances. It’s a sharp turn, a quick 180 that throws all off them off balance. Jughead has been ruthless so far, both in his grading and in his push to get them to learn critical thinking skills. Even he’s surprised at this course of action.
“Any kind of betrayal you can think of. You can talk about personal betrayal, family betrayal. Maybe one of your friends kissed your girlfriend, or maybe your mother chose your sister’s side over yours. Or maybe you write about a fictional betrayal. Hamlet and Ophelia, Brutus and Julius Caesar, Edward Pensieve and the Turkish delight.”
Wynnie’s hand shoots up, and Jughead inwardly winces. She’s always been the one to push back against any assignment, the one who questions everything he expects from them and makes class ten times longer.
“Can we write about a made up betrayal? With characters on, like, TV or something?”
Breathing a sigh of relief, he nods. “Anything is fair game, as long as you write it in a way that someone not familiar with the show, or book, or whatever, can understand what’s going on.”
“What about poetry?” another student asks.
“So long as you put the effort in, poetry is fine. Text threads, short stories, poems, letters, anything written.”
“Can we work together?” one of the twins asks.
“Sure, as long as you don’t bother the other students,” Jughead says with a shrug.
Bill and Ted high five before dragging their desks together.
Jughead is surprised at how well they’re taking this assignment. Every last thing has been a fight with them, from getting their attention to taking a test. Betrayal, though, seems to be something everyone can relate to.
As the class begins to write, Jughead sits down at his own desk. For a moment, he watches his students, kids in the same position he was once in, and wonders why he’s even here. Riverdale offered him little more than characters he could mold into his own, a setting for the decline of small town America.
Today, though, his mind wanders along words and phrases, glimpses into a different sort of reality. One ravaged by decay and rot, left to perish alone. And yet, he can’t help but see the small, green shoots of the future poke out of the ashes, tiny hints of hope for what’s to come. Perhaps nothing is ever static and unchanging. Perhaps things can turn around.
Jughead reaches into his bag for his own blank notebook.
He’s sitting on the porch that afternoon, struggling with the illegibly written translation. It’s a shame the state requires them to teach only the recommended books; Jughead would love to see how the story unfolds when thrown onto a fire.
“Hey.”
Jughead starts. When he sees it’s only Betty (only?), he stands abruptly, his entire body on fire, his legs jittery and ready to run.
“Hey,” he repeats. “Archie’s not here, but –“
Betty shakes her head and shoves her hands into the pockets of her jacket. “Can we talk?”
He swallows. Stupid of him to think he’d get away from this conversation. Jughead waves to the chair next to him. As Betty passes, her perfume tickles his nose. Long gone is the strawberry body spray she used in high school, a sweet, cloying smell. Now it’s a perfume, one that tickles his nose and clogs his sinuses.
They sit there quietly, neither willing to speak first. He’s lost for words, unable to start.
She sits patiently, calmly. Betty seems as if she hasn’t a care in the world, as if they were there to talk about the weather. Part of her training, he realizes. She’s no longer as impulsive as she once was, reaching and grasping and desperate for an immediate answer. This Betty Cooper is a reminder of the past, but only that.
“I’m sorry,” he manages, starting with the simplest of things.
Next to him, Betty shifts. He thinks he hears her sniffle (crying? allergies? derision at his lame start?), and he has to quash his immediately reaction. All he wants to do is reach out to her, to comfort her, to promise her the world to keep her from suffering.
But he’d done that before, long ago, in a completely different world. And he’d been trod upon, brushed aside in favor of her own cruel form of betrayal. Nothing he could have done after would have fixed the wound she’d carved in his soul. Even now, seven years distanced from the teenage woes, it lay between them, still raw and sore and bleeding from the continued betrayals of his life.
He wonders how he would have responded to her if he hadn’t known. If he hadn’t come home one night early to hear her and Archie upstairs. If he hadn’t turned to the Wyrm and listened to Sweet Peas acidic sniping just to get lost among the agave pinas and the juniper berries.
“It’s not,” he stutters, trying to find his footing, unsure of what he wants to say. “I couldn’t stop loving the Betty Cooper I knew. But I also never stopped hating what she did to me.”
The admission is the first emotionally honest thing he’s said in years. It’s painful to realize how deep it lay inside him, how long it took to finally cut out this festering, putrid thing that burrowed into him. Like a tumor, it could only grow, fed by hate and anger and depression. Hate and anger for both of them. It hadn’t turned out like it was supposed to.
Now that it lay out in the open between them, he felt different. Heavier, in some ways. But there was also a release. The pressure that had been building for so long was slowly lowering, as if he’d finally found the valve that would bring things back to normal.
“And I don’t know you,” he said, the words pouring out now. “Seven years, and only a handful of texts, a few voicemails. You’re not the person I remember. Hell, everyone is different from who they were, who I thought they were.”
He pauses to run a hand through his hair. He can feel Betty’s bright eyes staring at him, pleading with him for something, anything, that will make this better.
“We’re both different now, and there’s no way you can still love me. You don’t know me, you know who I was. We can’t just pick up where we left off, even if we wanted to. There’s too much between… Even if we were stupid enough to try,” he trails off, his words meandering as they try to find footing in the rocky space between them.
“We didn’t leave things in a good place,” Betty murmurs in agreement.
She shifts, and he looks at her for the first time since they sat down. Her legs are tucked up against her body, arms wrapped around them. It’s a protective stance. Against him, perhaps, or against the bare truth that he’s put in the open. He can’t blame her, not since he’s protected himself against most of his own life in other, less healthy ways.
Jughead sighs, empty of anything else to say. He stares at the fading light glowing through the leaves. It’s the perfect, picturesque scene of two high school sweethearts reuniting. At least, it was supposed to be. He didn’t know if he ever could do that to himself again.
Archie’s old truck chugs up the street, and Jughead stands. He scrapes the palms of his free hand along his pants, the other hand gripping his book. Archie waves through the windshield with a bright grin, and Jughead gives a half-hearted wave back before going inside.
He’s exhausted; after being mad for so long, it’s strange to be so empty of feeling. He’d give the world to be able to retreat back to Alphabet City and it’s various loan sharks. There, at least, he’d know the pain was no one’s fault but his own.
Jughead closes the bedroom door behind him, shutting out the rest of the world. It wasn’t his business what Betty did despite her attempts to bring him back into her life. He didn’t know if he was ready for that, or if he’d ever be. Ever since he’d been back, her presence gnaws at him, chipping away at the walls he’d built up over the years against her presence, and it frightens him that she’s stepped back into his thoughts so quickly and easily.
Thoughts and ideas collide and churn violently in his head. He throws himself down on his bed, determined to fall asleep despite the chaos.
But this time, sleep doesn’t come as easily as it always has. Words and feelings and phrases splatter against the back of his eyelids, graffiti tattooing images of a world never known. He pushes back against the cacophony until he can stand it no longer. Desperate to empty his thoughts, Jughead turns on the bedside lamp, pulls his laptop out from under the bed, and begins to write more than he’s been able to for years.
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Reggie//i can't let you go now that i got it
Request: your last reggie mantle imagine was soooooo cute it was.... BIG FAV i'm still grinning! could you please do one where reader and reggie have been best friends their whole lives? she's super protective and sweet to him and like? she's been in love for years but has been hiding it well?? she gets him to come away with her to college because 'screw this town' and they live together? but eventually she starts going on dates and it makes him realize he's in love with her too?? mutual love confession
hey! so before you go any further trigger warning mentions of abuse, specifically around reggie and his dad. it’s not in detail but it is mentioned a few times so don’t read if that upsets you. the last thing i want you to be is sad. i hope you all have a good day anyway, whether you’re reading this or not! (title is from Børns ‘electric love’)
- For 18 years
- Reggie Mantle has been the only constant in your life
- Even when you were babies he was there
- Your mom’s sat beside each other in baby class, cooing and awing over each other’s kids
- All while 6 month old you stole 6 month old Reggie’s toy
- And then he cried so hard he vomited on not only himself but you as well
- Which then made you cry even louder
- And then your mom’s were asked to leave
- So instead
- It became a weekly thing for your mom to take you to The Mantle’s
- While her and Mrs Mantle gossiped and drank tea
- You and Reggie would hit each other with various stuffed toys.
- As you got older
- The weekly visits turned into daily ones
- Especially when you moved three houses away from him
- You and Reggie started to see each other more than your own parents did
- Your mom still went over once a week
- But when she arrived you were always usually there
- Either stood in the kitchen getting a snack
- Or lying on Reggie’s bed watching an awful movie he just ‘had to show you’
- They usually involved a hybrid of two animals
- Sometimes mythical, sometimes not
- But in all of them they were usually taking over the world
- They also always had the same four actors in
- But despite how much you protested
- ‘reggie? are you being serious? we watched this one last time.’
- ‘no, we watched molemaid last time. this is medusamaid. they’re completely different’
- ‘oh, sorry. my mistake’
- You actually secretly loved them
- Because they made him happy
- You would watch in awe as he laughed at stupid jokes
- And how his eyes would always light up at a particularly gruesome part, no matter how badly CGI’d it was
- You also listened to the countless of theories as to how ‘hurrik9’ is clearly the prequel to ‘hellhounds’ because ‘they’ve got the same main character! it doesn’t matter if they’re not played by the same person. y/n, they’ve got the same name.’
- You also listened to him complain about the inconsistencies between ‘werewombats 1’ and ‘werewombats 2’
- ‘no matter how much the director stands by the decision to make them turn on each other, despite the first film clearly stating that that’s the last thing they’d do.’
- But the thing you loved the most about it
- Was that he was only ever this way with you
- You’d been sworn to secrecy when you walked in on him watching ‘dinocano vs uniquake’
- And you promised never to tell anyone about his secret passion
- Or the fact that he had a stack of notebooks filled with plots and mini scripts for his own films.
- Reggie may have gotten popular
- But to you, he’s still the same Reggie you’ve always known.
- Whose scared of clowns but won’t admit it
- And cried when watching Edward Scissorhands but if anybody asks it was you
- And who hates hot chocolate, but its the only thing he’ll drink when he’s sick
- He also only eats pink marshmallows in months ending in R
- And white ones every other month
- But in December he has both...because its Christmas.
- Yeah, you and Reggie are best friends
- Always have been, always will
- But it doesn’t stop you from wanting more.
- It doesn’t stop the longing looks when you think no one is watching
- Or the lingering touches whenever he hugs you
- It doesn’t stop your heartbeat picking up whenever he walks into a room
- Or how you forget how to breathe whenever he looks at you
- You look forward to everyday, even if you have a pop quiz or homework you only remembered the night before
- Because he’s going to be there to make you smile
- Even if he isn’t doing it on purpose
- You look forward to the countless of texts he sends
- No matter how weird or ridiculous
- Like when he text you at half three in the morning to ask if birds were real because somebody told him they weren’t.
- You then got a text straight afterwards telling you that it would be great idea for a plot
- And you still answer every single one
- No matter how stupid they are
- It’s really a wonder how you get any sleep with your phone being on loud all the time
- But it’s worth it
- Especially when you get texts like
- ‘he’s done it again’
- Reggie’s relationship with his father complicated to say the least
- You remember when you were younger they used to be best friends
- Reggie idolized him
- And you’d have conversations in Reggie’s tree house, about how much he wanted to be just like his dad when he grew up
- But when he did grow up
- And started to develop a personality that didn’t just revolve around football
- Reggie no longer wanted to be just like his dad
- He wanted to be the furthest thing from him
- The first time it happened
- Reggie tried his hardest to hide it from you
- And for the first time in 8 years
- You went two days without seeing each other
- On the third day though
- You’d had enough
- So you went round to see him
- But when you asked his mom if he was in
- She lied and told you he had just gone out
- Even though you could clearly see him trying and failing to hide on the stairs
- So you did what any normal friend would do
- You climbed through his bedroom window
- With about as much grace and steal as you could muster
- Which surprisingly, wasn’t a lot
- And you gave him the fright of his life
- ‘what the hell are you doing here?’
- ‘you’re avoiding me’
- ‘i’m not. i’ve just been...busy’
- ‘doing what? fighting?’
- ‘what?’
- ‘your eye’
- ‘oh yeah...that’
- That was when you knew something was wrong
- You’ve known Reggie your entire laugh
- And you know the three things he’ll always boast about
- Girls, football and fighting
- ‘what happened?’
- When he told you
- You couldn’t believe what he was saying
- You wanted to find Marty Mantle and give him a black eye...see how he likes it
- But Reggie begged you not to do or say anything
- ‘it’ll only make it worse’
- ‘but its wrong. he should be locked up’
- ‘who’s going to believe me?’
- ‘me’
- ‘see...it was only one time anyway’
- So you agreed, reluctantly
- And you so wanted to believe it
- But then a few weeks later he turned up to school with a bust lip
- A month after that another bruise around his eye that he tried to hide behind sunglasses
- And by the time graduation rolled around
- Both of you had lost count of the sunglasses and excuses
- For three years he’d been trapped in a house with a father who thought hitting was the same as love
- And a mother who pretended it didn’t happen
- But now college was round the corner and that meant a chance for both of you
- Or at least thats what you thought
- ‘you didn’t get in?’
- ‘i didn’t get in.’
- ‘to any of them?’
- ‘nope’
- ‘reggi-’
- ‘it’s fine. my dad has always wanted me to work for him. i guess this will make him happy. even if i am the cleaner’
- ‘reg-’
- ‘please go’
- That summer was the longest one of your life
- It was even longer that the time Reggie had to get his appendix out and so you couldn’t hang out for a 3 weeks.
- For two and a half months
- You heard nothing from Reggie
- You text, called, DM’d and even E-mailed
- But you got nothing
- You went round at all times of the day to try and talk to him
- And every time Mrs Mantle answered and told you he was either out or busy
- Doing homework was her favourite excuse
- And Reggie has only ever done homework when you were doing the majority of it
- You even tried climbing in through his window again
- But he locked it
- So you watched every morning as he dragged himself into his dad’s car
- Wearing a stiff suit and a miserable expression
- No matter how hard you tried to get to him before the left
- How fast you ran or how early you got to his house
- They were always long gone before you managed to get anywhere close to him
- You missed the midnight texts about nothing
- You missed his stupid jokes
- You missed watching an entire room light up whenever he walked in
- You missed the way he made you feel, even if he was unaware of it
- You even missed watching his god-awful movies
- You just missed him
- And when he missed your leaving party
- That was the final straw
- At 7am the next morning
- You shoved the last of your boxes in the back of your car
- Said goodbye to your parents
- And drove away
- Three houses down the street
- Making sure your parents had gone back inside before stopping
- You sat outside for a few minutes
- Trying to think of what to do or say
- You knew his mom would answer the door
- And that you’d get the same excuses
- You also knew from the past few experiences that his window would still be locked
- So you threw rocks at his bedroom window in the hopes that when he’d check to see what it was, he’d leave it unlocked
- And he did!
- You watched from behind a bush as he hung his head out the window to look around
- His brow furrowed and hair messy
- Clearly he’d just woke up
- You couldn’t help the smile twitching at your lips
- You’d missed that face
- Climbing the window was a lot harder than it used to be
- Mr Mantle had taken the ladders away
- Another reason as to why he sucked
- But you managed eventually
- And you almost died only twice
- Which is good
- It’s better than three
- You landed on the carpet with a loud thud that made him jump half way across the room
- ‘y/n. what the hell are you doing here?’
- ‘it’s moving day. and i must say i’m very disappointed at the lack of preparation on your part. have you even started packing yet?’
- ‘it’s not funny y/n’
- ‘i know. do you see me laughing?’
- ‘i’m being serious y/n. just leave’
- ‘no’
- ‘what?’
- ‘the last time you told me to leave, i listened and i didn’t see you for two months, so no’
- ‘what about college’
- ‘what about it?’
- ‘it starts in three days’
- ‘i know. and if we stand here any longer we’re going to miss it. so get packed and lets go. it’s a nine hour drive and i’m not doing all of that alone’
- ‘you know i can’t go’
- ‘says who?’
- ‘my dad, every single college i applied for and me’
- ‘listen to me reggie. you are my best friend, you have been since we were babies. there’s not a part of my life you haven’t been in. do you really think that would stop at college?’
- ‘we didn’t spend the summer together’
- ‘and it was the worst summer of my life’
- ‘same...but that might have been because i was spending 12 hours a day in an office’
- ‘rude. but i’ll take it!’
- ‘i did miss you though. it was weird not seeing your face everyday’
- That makes your cheeks heat up and you have to force the flutter in your chest to go away
- ‘it always cheers me up’
- There it goes again and you want to claw at your chest until it’s no longer there
- Hope is a terrible thing to have when you’ve been in love with your best friend for your entire life
- ‘you always cheer me up’
- Oh dear...
- ‘i love you...a-as a friend. this summer has been the longest and most depressing for both of us. i don’t want to live the rest of my life like that. i need you reggie. so please pack your bags, say screw you to your dad and to this town and lets go’
- ‘what about money? where am i going to live?’
- ‘we’ll figure that out on the way there. just hurry up’
- And he did
- You and Reggie threw the majority of his belongings into any bag you could find
- He took all the money he’d been saving out of the poorly disguised fake plant
- And wrote a nice little note for his parents
- You also may have added a few choice words to it
- But what Reggie doesn’t know won’t hurt him
- And the two of you climbed into your car and never looked back
- The 9 hour car ride was the most fun you’ve ever had
- It was like you were trying to fit the entire summer you’d lost into those few hours
- It was filled with off key singing
- And stories of your summer
- His favourite being about Archie being tricked into going skinny dipping by himself
- You laughed loudly like nothing had happened
- And cried silently because everything had
- Thankfully when you arrived on campus, it was already night
- So you managed to sneak Reggie into your room
- And when you nervously told your roommate
- She just grinned at you
- ‘it’s fine, my boyfriend will probably be staying over a lot too’
- ‘oh, he’s not my boyfriend’
- ‘we’re not together’
- ‘...okay’
- She said with a knowing smile and you and Reggie shared a look
- And a year filled with adventures started
- Reggie got a job as a bartender with a little help from Veronica
- And you started your classes
- But nothing is ever easy
- At least not when it involves you or Reggie
- It turns out hiding a whole human is a lot more difficult that you anticipated.
- It involves Reggie squeezing into your closet
- And a whole team of people to get him to and from the showers
- But it was also difficult for another reason
- Because it was easy to hide your feelings from him when you lived in separate house
- But now you’re sharing a room
- And a bed
- And every time he would wrap his arms around you
- And pull in for a half asleep cuddle
- You’d forget how to breathe
- You’ve never been more excited to wake up
- Because he’d be all messy hair and parted lips with just a little bit of drool coming out of them that it would be cute instead of gross
- And when he said good morning in the same deep, tired voice
- You wanted to live in that feeling forever
- But then 2nd year rolled around and everything changed
- It all started when you moved into your own apartment
- You knew you had to but there was a part of you that hoped you could keep everything the same
- You found a tiny, two bedroom flat that you could both just about afford
- Reggie was so happy to have his own room
- ‘i won’t have to sleep next to you and your freezing cold feet anymore’
- ‘i’ll just sneak into your bed when your fast asleep and put them on you then instead’
- ‘i thought we were supposed to be friends’
- It took a few weeks to get used to an empty bed
- But eventually you started to sleep properly
- And it was quite nice to have your own space again
- It meant you could study without having to listen to ‘nighthawk nightmare’
- Honestly, you don’t really know what the plot of that one is
- But you’ve still seen it 7 times
- You may be in love with him but it doesn’t mean he can’t be annoying sometimes
- And you were happy with going back to admiring from afar
- Your heart can’t get broken that way
- In fact a small part of you thought he felt the same way
- That one glimmer of hope you felt a year ago
- Came back all of sudden
- And soon
- You became aware of the lingering touches
- And the gifts he’d buy you just because
- He also asked what you wanted to watch for your movie night
- And he’s never, ever done that unless you were sad or sick
- And even then, when you broke your arm a few years ago, he chose the film
- The way he looked at you suddenly felt different
- You would feel him staring, but when you would check he would always be scrolling through his phone
- And you’re sure the was a little bit of flirtiness in his tone whenever he spoke to you
- But just because you think you can’t be burnt if you stand far enough away from the fire
- Doesn’t mean that the sparks can’t jump out and get you anyway
- Because all of sudden Reggie started bringing girls home
- And every time you saw a t-shirt that wasn’t yours on the sofa
- Or a pair of shoes discarded by the door
- You felt yourself die a little
- After a few weeks of this
- Something in you snapped
- You’d spent the majority of your life pining after some boy who saw you as nothing more than a friend
- And sometimes a small part of you thought as just an escape route
- So you moped for a few weeks before deciding it was finally time to move on
- Reggie would only ever see you as a friend
- And that’s fine
- The only way to move on, is to move on.
- So you waited for the right guy to move on with
- And there were a few
- But none of them were right
- Until you met Daniel
- Sweet Daniel with curly brown hair and dimples
- Who studied history
- And spent his days sitting in the coffee shop on campus
- For a few weeks the two of you spent your short interactions stealing glances and exchanging shy smiles
- That evolved to small talk with flirty undertones
- Until finally he asked you out
- And you said yes
- And you kept saying yes to each date afterwards
- They were fun too
- He’d take you to museum's and on picnics and at night he’d pick you up and you’d go star gazing
- He would make you laugh when he’d tell you a joke
- And make you blush when he’s whisper in your ear while staring up at the sky
- But he wasn’t him
- And that killed you
- It doesn’t matter how many time he takes you to watch some unknown indie film thats supposed to be the greatest thing ever made
- It has nothing on standing outside the only cinema in town that’s showing ‘sharkcano vs tigerana’ in the freezing cold with Reggie wearing an absolutely ridiculous costumes that Reggie threw together last minute and somehow roped you into wearing too.
- But what hurt even more was watching how Reggie acted around you when you and Daniel started dating
- He looked hurt whenever he saw the two of you together
- And you would watch him roll his eyes whenever you mentioned him
- Until eventually he would just avoid you all together
- Do you know how hard it is to avoid someone when you’re living in the same 2 bedroom flat that barely gives two foot to yourself?
- It’s hard
- But Reggie finds a way
- Eventually you’re more roommates than friends
- And you really don’t know how much more you can take
- You feel like you’re about to break
- And Daniel can see that too
- So on Friday night he invites you to go drinking with him and his friends instead of staying in and moping
- ‘bye, i’m going out’
- ‘wait’
- The speed of which he runs from his room and into the living room where your stood, startles you to say the least
- ‘what?’
- ‘don’t go out with him.’
- ‘why not? what ever george has told you about is a lie. george does that. he once told a bunch of people that you streaked in an old people’s home and almost killed his grandmother’
- ‘because he isn’t me’
- You’ve dreamt of those words
- Built them up in your head for years
- But in all of your daydreams, there’s never been a scenario like this one
- Not one where you’re about to leave to go on a date with another guy
- ‘reggie? what are you talking about?’
- You need to make sure he’s saying what you think he’s saying
- Because you can feel yourself hoping again
- And you know if he doesn’t mean what you want him to
- You don’t think you’ll be able to recover
- ‘i love you y/n. you’re my best friend, you always have been, you always will be and i love you.’
- ‘reg-’
- ‘please tell me you feel the same way’
- ‘i-’
- In your head you had a full oscar worthy speech planned out just in case this ever happened
- But now you’re here in the moment.
- You have no idea what to say
- ‘it doesn’t matter. just leave’
- ‘no’
- ‘what?’
- ‘do you really think i’m going to walk away from you after that? when have i ever walked away from you?’
- ‘i-no’
- ‘i love you too by the way. if you care’
- ‘shut up...wait really?’
- ‘yes i do. i’ve loved you for as long as i can remember so are you going to just stand there or are you going to kiss me?’
- ‘i’m definitely going to kiss you’
- ‘good’
- And he does
- He’s standing in front of you before you can catch your breath
- His hands reach up to cup your cheeks
- His lips part as he stares down at you
- And you’ve never seen him look at anyone the way he’s looking at you
- Like you’re everything good and light in the universe
- And like he’s also been waiting just as long for this moment
- Maybe he has
- Maybe he’s been waiting all his life for this
- He just didn’t know
- You feel whatever breath you had left leave your lungs
- His lips are soft against yours, but he gets his point across
- And you’ve never been happier
- All the heartache and tears
- The laughter and stupid jokes
- The 3am texts
- The constant worrying
- The early mornings and late nights
- The damage to limbs from trying to fit in tiny closets
- And the scrapes on your ankles and bruising on your legs from crawling through his bedroom window
- They’re all worth it
- ‘are you still going on your date?’
- ‘what do you think?’
- ‘good. because they’ve just released werewombats 3’
#reggie mantle#reggie mantle imagine#reggie mantle x reader#reggie mantle x you#reggie mantle x y/n#reggie#reggie imagine#reggie x reader#riverdale#riverdale imagine
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First Love | 14
Yoongi x reader | 18+ | college au | tattoo artist au | angst | fluff | swearing
Word: 2.6k
You first saw him in the multi-purpose room. Later learn his name, and on your third year, as he becomes your neighbor, you discover his lifestyle. Knowing your crush on him was nothing but that, you wanted to find the courage to look for love. Asking your friend for help, you’re pointed in the direction of the expert. Your neighbor, Min Yoongi
Chapter Index
Ari never seemed as happy as she is right now after you just asked her to help you find the perfect outfit for today's date. She squealed and yelled about how happy she is for you to be going on a date with a “God” as she put it.
“Do you want Hoseok to hear you?” you whisper, listening intently for your neighbor to come banging on your door.
“He’s still on campus,” she states as she opens her closet and digs through her line of clothes. “The only person that should be there is Dick Mcgee. Unless he's somewhere as well." She hands you a yellow sweater, moving to your closet to dig through it for something else. Even though her eyes are on the inside of your closet, it seems as though she senses your confusion with the top she hands you. "That's a laguna yellow."
"You seem to know your colors," you mutter, grabbing a pair of light blue jeans from her.
"Should have majored in fashion," she sighs before gesturing to the bathroom behind you. After a quick change you're seated at her desk and given "the second biggest makeover of a lifetime." You really don't know what that means, but you're not going to say anything. It's probably just best to let her do her thing so that she doesn't mess your make-up up because you somehow offended her. Ari talks the entire process--mainly about how she imagines your date going today. The two of you are going to talk about everything while walking down the sidewalk at the park brushing the back of your hand against each other. The two of you are too shy to say anything about it, but after a few more brushes, he gathers the courage to take your hand in his. Your hand fits perfectly into his like any romantic situation. There's blushing and no eye contact.
You want that. You want all of that. To feel loved and to have all those feelings you felt for Yoongi, but to have someone feel the same way for you. "I'm scared," you whisper, eyes closed as you feel the brush run along your lids.
There's a pause in her movements. It's silent for a few seconds before she speaks, "Why?"
You open your eyes, meeting her gaze as you answer, "I've never had anyone tell me they like me before. I know it sounds stupid, but I'm just scared of all that is going to come after this date. What if he doesn't like me after this? What if I'm only meant to just like someone and that's it?"
Ari cups your cheeks, squishing your face. "It's okay to be scared, Y/N. You're new to the whole dating thing, and if he doesn't have feelings for you after this then he wasn't the one. It'll suck because you like him, but your future husband will pop up soon." Ari goes back to work on your eye shadow, your eyes closing. "So don't worry about it, Y/N." When Ari is done with everything, she can't help herself and begins to take pictures for whatever app she's using. "I wanna show you off."
Your phone chimes and you both freeze. Grabbing your phone off from your bed you open the text.
[2:48 pm] Hanbin: Hey! I'm outside the dorms :)
"He's here," you tell her, clearly nervous all over again.
Ari claps her hands in excitement. "I'm so excited, and my first date was years ago." She grabs your bag and hands it to you as she rushes you out the door like she did a few days ago. "Tell me everything when you come back. I'll make sure I'm not with Hoseok or anything!"
Saying your goodbyes, you let out a deep breath and make your way down the hall. Every step is slow and drag-like. You're so nervous you feel like you're going to throw up. What you didn't expect, however, is when you step outside and make your way down the steps to see him standing at the end, all that fear leaves. You aren't scared, but excited. Happy.
"Hey," he says, smiling his perfectly crooked smile.
"Hi."
He sticks his arm out towards you. "Ready to go?"
You smile, looping your arm through his. "Let's go." He leads you towards the parking lot, passing a few parked cars before going in between two red vehicles. He opens the passenger door to your right, acting gentlemanly. You laugh, "Thank you." You get in the car as he closes the door and makes his way around. "Okay, Y/N. You got this. You got this." He opens the door. "Where are we headed?"
He shakes his head. "That's a secret," he answers. "I'm only hoping you'll like it." Turning the ignition, his car comes to life and he puts it in reverse and backs out the spot. "If not," he begins, putting the car in drive, "I should have just taken you out to dinner." The drive is silent at first, but once you bring up midterms, the conversation goes. "We're almost there," he tells you after a while of talking, pointing to the glove compartment. "There's an eye mask in there. Can you put that on?"
You open the compartment. "An eye mask?"
"Cheesy I know, but Ari said you love this place and I thought doing this would make it ten times better."
"Okay," you say, a bit reluctant as you put the mask on. You sit in silence, hands on your lap as you feel the car take a turn. You don't know how long it was, but you guess around five minutes before the car comes to a stop.
Hanbin turns off the engine and tells you, "Don't remove them just yet." The door opens and you hear a weird roaring sound. Where are you? A few seconds later your door opens. "Give me your hand?" You unbuckle your seatbelt, sticking your hand out and feel his grab yours. He helps you out of the car, placing your bag in your hand for you to drape around your shoulder. "Do you know where we are?" he questions.
You shake your head. "It's hard to tell." There's a sound of people screaming. "Where are we?"
"Not yet." He guides you, your hand wrapped in his as you walk for a while, every now and then him telling you that something is coming up. The roaring and screaming is louder now. You think you know where you are, but you could be wrong. A few steps later he finally stops and says, "Okay. You can take them off."
Reaching for the strap on the mask, you pull it off, blinking to adjust to the sunlight. When your vision is clear, you look up and see the huge, familiar sign. Dragons Throne can be read in big red and bold letters. A green dragon with its mouth open and fire coming from it twists its body around the T.
You look to Hanbin. "You brought me to Dragons Throne?"
He looks a little dejected as he replies, "Ari said you love this place so I thought it would be a great first date, but I guess I was wrong—"
"No, no," you cut him off, shaking your head and hands. "I love this place. I was just surprised that we would be here," you laugh nervously. "I've never been on a date, so from all the romantic movies I've seen, first dates are usually dinner and a movie."
He nods in understanding. "Hopefully this will be better than dinner and a movie." He holds out his hand towards you. "Shall we have fun?"
You hesitantly reach for his outstretched hand, taking in that this could be something. You could finally have that happy ending you've been waiting for. You didn't realize the first time how big his hands were compared to yours. It’s like yours disappears when you hold hands. After a few minutes of waiting in line to get past the entrance gate, you are now giddy with excitement. It's been a while since you came here, and even though you've been on all the rides, you still can't help but feel like you're about to ride them for the first time.
"Where should we go first?" he asks you, looking down to meet your gaze.
The Big Drop? Slasher? What ride should his first experience be? "Let's start from this side and work our way around," you negotiate, pointing to the right and sweeping your arm around until it stops to your left side.
He chuckles, "Deal." You lead him towards the first roller coaster with excitement as you get in the short line. "It said the wait will be fifteen minutes," Hanbin begins, leaning against the railing, "I'm thinking we can play a game in the meantime."
You look at him with an inquisitive gaze. "What kind of game?"
"Well we've talked a lot, so we know a few things about one another. Let's quiz each other and see who has a better memory."
"What does the winner get?" you catechize, leaning against the railing across from him.
He taps his chin in thought. After a few seconds of thinking he answers, "The winner gets a prize from the stands here."
"Deal."
Hanbin grins. "I'll start and it'll be an easy one. What's my favorite color?"
"Orange." He nods. "What's mine?" you ask.
"Gray. What's my mom's name?"
So he plans to go further than what you expected. You thought maybe it’s simple questions like his major, favorites and so on. You weren't expecting questions that involve family members, or most likely questions about his childhood. But you have a good memory so you know basically everything he told you. "Mindy."
It seems like both of you are competitive with how hard the questions are getting. You both want to win and be known as the person who knows the other best, but it seems like it'll be a tie. It doesn't stop after the first ride. No. Each wait the questions continue and it surprises you how much you two talk within two weeks. As the hours go by you become more comfortable around him. You don't wait for him to take your hand, you just go for it like you've been doing it for years.
After the two of you have ridden half the rides here, Hanbin suggests, "How about we get something to eat?"
"Sure. What are you in the mood for?"
"What are you in the mood for?"
You begin to think of all the restaurants and stands that are scattered around the park. What could he be in the mood for? Fish or meat? Maybe just fries and a corn dog? Your mom always boasted about the turkey legs they have at the park in your hometown. "Well we can go to the food court area and we can figure out what we want," you suggest.
"Sounds good." He smiles, letting you lead the way once again. You pass by a few characters taking pictures with kids and adults before you reach the main area where a majority of the food stands and restaurants reside. Walking past the stone arch, your eyes immediately drift to the nacho stand. It's not like there isn’t a variety of good options, but since you first tried their nachos here, you can't help but get them every time you came here.
"I see nachos," Hanbin comments and your eyes dart to him. Is he your soulmate? He looks at you. "What are you getting?"
"Nachos."
He grins. "Great minds think alike." There is no one in the nacho line so you order and receive your food quickly. Taking a seat at an empty table, you and Hanbin dig in. Comparing your plate to Hanbin's you realize you are as simple as it gets. Just jalapenos and that's it. Hanbin, on the other hand, has jalapenos, onions, sour cream—the whole works. "Want some?" he offers. You quickly shake your head. He laughs, "Not a fan?"
"Onions." Hanbin can only laugh even harder.
The rest of the day is all a fun blur. Your hands never let one another's go for a majority of the time. Taking breaks you’re snuggled close together. You take photos together and you send them to Ari. He even won you a prize even though you lost by one question. To you it feels like a date that you only see on extremely romantic movies. Like a princess going on a date for the first time with the prince she eventually falls in love with.
After a long day, and basically staying until closing, you and Hanbin get out of his car in the dorm parking lot. In one hand you have a light pink bear and in the other Hanbin holds yours lightly, fingers laced. People are hanging out on the sidewalk chatting away dressed for going out as you two pass them and head up the stairs. You’re ready to fish out your ID to open the door, but another group of people opened the door to leave. The hall is loud; full of chatting people, loud music and even a few doors open where you can see figures dancing.
"So this is what it's like to dorm," Hanbin chuckles, continuing to lead you down the hall, past the stairway and into your hall. Reaching your dorm door he stops and turns to look at you. He smiles warmly, his thumb brushing along your skin. "I had fun," he tells you.
"Me too," you confess, heart fluttering as you grip the bear tighter. "Thank you."
He shakes his head. "I'm hoping there's another one sometime soon."
"I'd love that. Maybe after midterms?" you suggest. Just enough time to do a date or two more before break.
"Yeah," he begins, staring at you with such a warm gaze you feel your cheeks warming, "I guess it's time to say bye."
You didn't want to. "Yeah."
A few seconds of silence. "Can I kiss you?" he whispers. It’s like the hairs on the back of your neck stand. No words are leaving your mouth, so you nod. Hanbin leans in slow. As if he is still making sure you want this. He gets closer and closer until his lips touch yours. It is everything you ever imagined. His lips are soft and he kisses you slow and with so much care. You're only falling for him even more. When he moves back, he presses his forehead against yours. "Night, Y/N."
"Night," you breathe. With one last kiss you watch him leave.
You can't help but grin as you pull out your key and enter the room. You're not even mad that Ari isn't here. You're so happy that nothing can break you. You place the bear on your bed, put your bag on the floor, grab your pj's and take a quick shower. After your shower, you climb into bed, lie on your side and snuggle with the bear. You close your eyes and imagine the whole date over again.
In the silence of sheer bliss a soft rhythmic sound can be heard. It is a small tapping sound, but it grew louder and louder as well as the sound of a girl moaning. It hits you. It's like the beginning of the semester all over again, but it's different today. You have Hanbin. You have someone who likes you and wants to go on another date with you. He's not Yoongi. He's better.
So why are you crying yourself to sleep for the second time because of him?
#bangtanuniversity#bangtanarmynet#thebtswritersclub#btsgoldnet#btswritersguild#bts#bts x reader#bts x you#bts fanfic#bts fluff#bts angst#bts au#min yoongi#yoongi x reader#yoongi x you#yoongi fanfic#yoongi fluff#yoongi angst#yoongi au
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Alright
You forget to take care of yourself while battling through medical school. Spencer tries to help. 1.6k, f!reader
Warnings: mentions of poor self care, very vague description of fainting.
A/N: literally wrote this in an hour, so I hope it's okay lol
"You're still up?" Spencer asks, opening the door to your shared apartment.
You rise onto your feet, ignoring the black dots that spot your vision. "I thought you weren't getting back for another hour or two," you say, wrapping your arms around him and laying your head on his chest.
He presses a kiss to the top of your head. "JJ got done with the sheriff earlier than she thought. How come you're still up?"
"Homework," you groan.
You're in your second year of medical school, and if you're being honest, it's kicking your ass. Most of your studying is done when your boyfriend is at work. He used to try and help, although you put an end to that. He was just so smart, so quick to memorize the material you've been agonizing over, that sometimes it'd send you into a tailspin. You never wanted to tell him that, though. Not when he was being such a wonderful boyfriend. Lately, he's been worrying too much and usually tries to pull you away from your textbooks and notes. It's terribly hypocritical of him. You're both a lot better at taking care of each other than yourselves.
"It's three in the morning, bub," he chides gently. "Let's go to bed."
Violently, you shake your head. "I have an exam soon!"
"The brain stops working correctly once someone is overtired."
"I know."
"And you're overtired."
You sigh. "I know."
Before you can protest more, he bends a little and sweeps an arm under your knees, using his other arm to wrap around your upper body. You squeal, your arms going around his neck. "When did you get so buff?!"
He laughs, shifting you around so you're settled more comfortably. "I told you, Morgan and JJ keep making me work out with them."
"Remind me to thank them," you say, getting another laugh out of him. It's cliche, you know, but his laugh is your favorite sound in the world.
It doesn't take him long to carry you to the bedroom. Gently, he deposits you on the bed, kissing you again on the forehead. "I'm going to go clean up your books and then come back, okay? Get ready for bed."
You're asleep before he's even out of the room. When he comes back, he pulls the blankets over your body, changes into pajamas, and crawls in after you, pulling your body against him.
--
When you wake up, it's to the fire alarm going off.
"Everything is fine!" Spencer yells from the kitchen. You blink a few times, adjusting to whatever the hell is happening. Even in your sleepy state, everything does not seem fine.
You get out of bed, putting on your slippers before making your way into the kitchen. There, you can see Spencer batting at a cloud of smoke coming from the stove top. "Spence, what's happening?"
"I burned the eggs," he says, sounding so genuinely upset about it that it confuses you. "I was trying to make you eggs."
You help him clean up the eggs, wincing at just how burnt they are. It's hard to say how Spencer even managed to do that, but you don't mock him for it. He's been worrying about you, so you know he was just trying to make you feel better.
"Come back to bed with me?" You ask, one of his hands in yours.
He's terrible at saying no to you, so he doesn't try. Instead, he follows you, curling against you once you're in bed. Frankly, he's just glad that you want to sleep. "I love you."
"Love you more."
"Impossible."
--
The next day, he's called away again. You're a little surprised. As chaotic as his schedule is, you usually get him for a few days after a case.
"Take care of yourself, okay?" You tell him, kissing him softly.
He nods. "You too. Please."
--
"You seem distracted, kid. What's going on?" Morgan asks, sitting next to Spencer on the jet. Even during their debriefing, he only seemed half aware of his surroundings. Morgan didn't understand his brain, not in the intimate way you did, but he had a good idea of how easy it was for Spencer to get lost in his thoughts.
"Hm?" Spencer hums, looking up at Morgan. "Oh. Just thinking about Y/N."
Morgan snorts. "Shocker."
"I'm serious!" Spencer protests. "She's so stressed out about medical school. I'm worried about her not taking care of herself when I'm gone. She just puts an unhealthy amount of pressure on her shoulders."
"That reminds me of someone I know."
Spencer looks confused for a second before catching a look at Morgan's raised eyebrow. "Shut up. I just- I don't know how to help her. I'm gone too often to encourage her to rest, or to put down the textbooks, or tell her that I think she's amazing when I see her doubting her ability."
"She'll be okay," Morgan reassures. "And you'll be able to check in with her once the case is over. For now, though, we need that big brain of yours focused on the case. Okay?"
"Okay."
--
Back at the apartment, you've spread all of your study materials on the floor, having given up on keeping it contained on the coffee table. Your back is aching and you've been on the verge of tears all day. Focusing is difficult, especially since all you want is for your boyfriend to hold you and make everything better.
But that isn't how you operate, so you take a deep breath and get back to work. By two in the morning, your body feels heavy and your mind feels full. You also forgot to respond to Spencer's nightly text, which just makes a wave of guilt crash into you. It's too late to text him now, so you set a reminder in your phone to text him when you wake up.
--
This time, Spencer is gone for a week and a half. Four times, you forget to say goodnight to him. Twice, you're so distracted that you don't answer your phone when it rings. Your entire life has become your textbooks, especially after you bomb a pop quiz on Wednesday. That sends you into a downward spiral, one you aren't recovered from by the time your boyfriend comes back.
"How was the case?" You ask him, ignoring the way your mind feels fuzzy. It's probably been too long since you got a proper night's sleep.
He's peering at you. "It was okay. What's wrong?"
"Nothing."
"Y/N," he sighs, kneeling in front of you where you're sitting on the couch. He's holding your hands. "Please take a break. When's the last time you've been outside?"
You frown. "You hate going outside."
"I prefer to be indoors, but I understand and respect the benefits of spending time outdoors." He pulls you to your feet. Somehow, you don't stumble. "Come on. Let's go walk around the block."
He grabs your shoes for you, and you have to sit down again to put them on. Once you're outside, you do have to admit that the fresh air feels amazing on your face.
"You're really quiet today," you say as you walk.
He nods. "I'm worried about you and I'm not sure how to help."
"You don't need to-"
"Y/N," he interrupts you. "You...you help me all the time. I don't even think you realize how much you help me. You always listen to me when I go off on a topic you probably aren't even interested. And you come up with excellent questions and responses. I feel more comfortable with physical touch than I ever have, because you're always so gentle and kind and respectful of my boundaries. You make me feel good about myself. When something is wrong, all I can think about is how I know seeing you will make me feel better. My mom adores you. But I know you're struggling and I can't-" he cuts himself off, taking a deep breath. "I want to help you the way you help me."
And in a fantastic bit of timing, your vision goes black as you fall to the ground.
--
You wake up in a hospital bed. "Spencer?"
He startles, rising from where he was slumped over in a chair. "How are you feeling? I need to call a nurse. But. How are you feeling?"
"Tired," you mumble. "What happened?"
"You fainted. The doctors said you were overly exhausted and suffering from mild dehydration." Spencer's tense all over, his hands flexing at his sides.
Ah, shit. You fucked up.
--
After that, you try harder. You let Spencer help you. When he's gone, he sends you reminders on when to start and stop studying, when to go to sleep, and reminders to drink water. They're all things you already know, but someone checking in on you helps you actually follow through, helping you hold yourself responsible. When he's with you, he peppers you with kisses when he knows you need to relax, picking you up and carrying you around the apartment to make you laugh. Since he has a habit of burning food and you hate cooking, you two get a lot of takeout.
"Hey," you say one day, closing your textbooks and going over to him. "You know how much I love you, right?"
He smiles and buries his face in your hair. "Yeah. And you know I love you too."
Spencer can't fix everything for you, nor can he fix the hell that's med school. But he helps. Knowing he's always here for you helps.
Being loved helps.
#spencer reid fic#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid reader insert#Spencer reid fic#criminal minds fic#criminal minds reader insert#dorothywrites#this might be me projecting but shhhhh
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