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writing-havoc · 1 year

Note

Hey! How're you? I hope you're well.

I absolutely adore your works and I hope it's okay to make a request? It's just a little idea I had, sort of inspired by your latest fic :)

Where the reader is a part of the crows and one night she finds this small child outside the club and she feels really sorry for them and brings them into the club and tries to help them? Maybe with a bit of Kaz x reader? Whatever you feel inspired to write to be honest :D

I hope this is okay, I love your works so much! 💖💞

Enough

♡ Summary: You do your best to care for a little boy you found while Kaz cools down

♡ Pairing: Kaz Brekker x Reader

♡ Fandom: Six of Crows, Grishaverse

♡ Warning(s): Hunger, Child Abandonment, says Yn twice

♡ WC: 4.6k

I could have sworn there was a mention of like, a café by name in the books somewhere but I couldn't find it? I just made one up but man this is gonna drive me crazy lol

Anyway, here you go! I hope it is to your liking and tysm for the request and kind words <3 so glad my fic could inspire!

Please excuse any grammar and spelling mistakes

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Finding a child in an alleyway was not something you expected to tick off your bingo card so soon. Taking the child with you to the Crow Club with plans to look after him wasn't even on the card. And yet, here you are.

He's small, top of his head barely reaching your belly button, and his hands are freezing from where they hold onto your own.

You had found him not twenty minutes ago, and planned to just leave him there like any sensible person. But unfortunately, you're not as good at turning your moral compass upside down like everyone else.

So you got his attention, approaching his little shelter and offering him the last slice of bread you had swiped from someone's open kitchen window. He was hesitant to reach for it, hands slowly edging toward you as if you'd rip it away any moment, and with a certain gentleness took the piece from your hand and began to nibble on it.

His clothes were dirty, dipped in whatever dirt the Barrel has rubbed off on him and drenched through to the bone. Things were coming apart at the seams and the soles of his shoes you can tell were about to separate from the rest.

You had asked him where his parents are, and your heart immediately sunk when he looked away and towards the canal, his tiny nibbling seizing.

That was what snapped the little string you had holding you back, the other side tied to your sense of reasoning.

He's just a kid. You were just a kid once. Arguably still are. You'll be damned if you had to watch someone who was no older than 7 go through the same fate you did.

But your sentiments were short lived, starting and ending with you, as the moment you stepped through the doors of the Crow Club with the kid clutching your hand, Kaz was narrowing his eyes and his teeth were gritting.

You glared at Dreg members around you, daring them to stop you as you made your way to the back of the club where all the alcohol is stored. Nina and Jesper were setting up chairs, and you gave them a blank look as you entered the room, the sound of metal thumping rhythmically following.

"Yn." A rough gravelly voice calls behind you.

You ignore it, looking at the kid. "Is it alright if I lift you up? Just to here, hun."

In the softest voice you ever heard, the kid says "Yeah." and allows you to put your hands under his arms and lift him onto a crate.

"Yn," Kaz calls again, making your blood simmer.

There's really nothing you can do here. The Club is going to open in a few moments for the five o' clock rush and there's not any spare clothes. You'll have to wait until you can go to the market later to fetch him some clothes and bathe him at the Slat.

The ferrule of a cane drags across the floor, and you roll your eyes.

"Give me a moment, okay?" You say to the kid, waiting for him to nod before turning around, exiting into the main bar area.

"Are you mad?" He hisses at you, hand gripping his cane so hard you can see it shake. "What could have possibly made you think bringing a child here would be a good idea?"

His anger isn't too surprising. But if you're being honest, it's annoying.

"I was thinking that he has nowhere to go." You say, voice low as you walk away from the door a little more. Kaz follows you, eyebrows still snapped together and a hardness to his jaw you don't think you've ever seen directed at you. "He was outside and shivering inside a make-shift shelter made out of fruit crates and a tattered towel. He needs a place to stay."

"I don't care what it needs. It has no place here." His eyes flicker to the kid.

You cross your arms, anger bubbling in your chest. "He is not going anywhere. He is cold, and small, and hungry, and we have everything here and at the Slat to keep him comfortable."

His eyes snap back to you. "This isn't a daycare. We can't just swing our doors open to any lost kid you manage to find on the streets. This is the fucking Crow Club."

"I know damn well what this place is, Kaz." Your jaw hurts from how hard you're clenching it, head starting to pound at your temples. "I'm not blind nor incompetent. But he can't weigh more forty pounds and he's way past the age for that to be acceptable. I cannot, in good conscience, let him go for him to starve and eventually die on the streets."

He goes to say something, but stops, eyes flickering around your face. Your jaw is set, features no doubt mirroring his as you stand your ground, hands on your hips and feet stood apart.

"Please, Kaz."

You don't care that he runs this place. You're not about to be pushed around and bullied into staying complicit while this kid dies.

And he knows this.

So he closes his eyes, looking away from you as he takes a deep breath, collecting himself. His hand is no longer shaking, but you can tell he's still angry, ready to swing at both the imaginary and the physical.

He takes one last breath and looks at you, eyes only just softer than before. "You are responsible for him. He's hungry? You feed him. He's hurt? You fix him." The crows head of his cane comes up to look at you. "If he causes trouble, you deal with him."

You smile for only a moment before you push the cane away from your face, his barrier down. "He's well behaved. It'll be fine."

"You better hope so." He mumbles under his breath, walking away slightly off rhythm.

You watch him leave, members parting when they see his mood. A few even nearly knock over a chair when he gets a bit too close, Nina and Jesper arching their brows as he disappears out the door.

A few people are staring at you, eyes hungry for gossip and a glimpse at the kid you ushered in not minutes before.

You ignore them in turn for trying to figure out what to do with him.

He's sitting on a crate of Kaelish whiskey, legs shut tightly and dangling off the side, arms wrapped around his torso. But he's looking around, taking in the stockpile of alcohol.

"Alright, first things first." You say, leaving a crack in the door as you step into the room. He's jumpy, staring at you with analyzing eyes. "What's your name?"

He opens his mouth to say something, but then pauses, quickly shutting it.

You chuckle. "Listen, kid. Whatever you've got to hide, I don't give a shit. You're in the Barrel now, the only names that matter here are who you've decided to roll your dice with and those who call themselves bosses."

He thinks about it then, eyes narrowing and feet rubbing against eachother inside his tattered shoes. He wets his lips.

"Leopold."

It's... a little far from what you were expecting. You just barely stop yourself from snorting. "You'd have been better off lying."

His face blossoms in red, embarrassment clear as he begins to shut down.

"Hey, hey. I'm sorry." You're still smiling so it doesn't help much. But you kneel down in front of him. "It's customary here to at least make light fun of others when you first meet them." He's not convinced, but he's a little less prickly now, so that's something. "Is Leopold what you'd like to be called? Or is there a different name you have in mind?"

Again, he thinks about it.

"Leo, is fine."

"Leo is much better." You pat his knee, standing up.

His cheeks are still red, but you can tell he feels a little more confident now.

The arms that were tightly coiled around his waist have loosened, resting on his legs. His feet are swinging, just barely, and his back has straightened.

A thought comes to mind when you see his shoe begin to slip off his foot.

"How hungry are you?" You ask.

And before he can answer, you hear a rather loud grumbling from his stomach, and a bit of a pained expression falls on his face.

Your smile drops a little. "Well it's good to see you haven't got comfortable with being hungry yet. Come on." You wave him over as you swing the door open. "We're going to get some waffles."

"Waffles?!" You hear from your left.

Leo jumps in surprise, not expecting the voice.

You, however, were expecting it. Counting on it, even. "Yes, Nina. You can come if you want!"

It's faint, but you can hear her go "yes!" and the sound of a chair scraping against the floor. "No need to ask me twice!"

You look at Leo as he approaches the door, hands fidgeting with eachother.

"None of that." You say, tapping his hands, which in turn makes him fling them apart. "When you walk out of here, in front of all those people, pretend to be confident."

His eyebrows knit together, so you take your finger and smooth it out. "You don't have to actually feel confident, but those guys out there? They're vultures, and I dont think you have the heart to take the amount of teasing and bullying they'll inflict on you if they see you fidgeting like that." You grab his shoulders, and watch in amusement as he stiffens into a board. You give him a thumbs up, then tilt his chin parallel to the floor, bringing it out of its nook in his chest. "Fidgeting is reserved for those who have earned their place here, when everyone knows that if they mess with you, you'll hold your ground."

He's sweating, and his eyes are big and wide, but it's a little better than whatever he had going on before.

You usher him out the door, closing it behind you. People are still staring, and others are giving mean side eyes, but you ignore them, smiling at Nina from where she stands by the door.

Her face gets wider when she sees Leo next to you.

"Oh you're the little bugger that had Brekkers panties in a bunch." She leans down, ruffling his hair. "You and I are going to get along swimmingly."

Leo cringes, scrunching in on himself and away from her hand. He's absolutely not pleased, you think, as Nina takes her hand back.

Lazily helping him sort his hair back out, you start to wonder what this kid even likes.

"Nina, this is Leo. Leo, this is Nina, greatest wolf tamer to grace Fjerda's soil."

Nina scoffs, kicking her leg out and knocking your shin with the toe of her boot. "The whole world, thank you very much." She turns out the door, holding it open for you both as you exit.

You do your best to keep the kid close as you make your way through the streets, idly chatting with Nina as you shove Leo around into various alley ways when you see someone you don't have good relations with and pulling him away from an oncoming carriage when he gets lost staring at the boats that roam the canal.

He has to be an artist's son, or maybe a writer's. You don't know anyone who just stops in the middle of the road to look at boats doing their job and floating on water.

It's actually a miracle you make it to the little diner in one piece.

Inside it smells strongly like shitty coffee and various breakfast foods given the hour, much to both you and Nina's delight.

You're just happy to be out of Barrel air for a moment. Even if you were only just across East Stave and a two minute walk would plant you back in the slums, you swear the air quality just immediately skyrockets the second you cross the bridge.

The menus of this place are built into the tables, Grisha engraved into a thin piece of metal while a thick card on a rack displays the specials.

A booth a little ways away from the corner suits your group well, though you do regret not giving Leo a wipe down before coming out here.

It does seem like he attempted to clean himself off. Probably while Kaz was lecturing you. The dirt that was under his fingernails seems to be picked out, and the smudges on his face are considerably fainter.

It's a good thing you didn't walk into one of the nicer diners around here. But from your experience, the shittier the establishment the better their food will taste.

If you don't feel at least a little unsafe walking by it then it's probably not worth the kruge.

You shimmy into one side of the booth first while Nina slides in on the other side. Leo follows after you, sticking as close as he can while still giving you a bit of arm room.

"Alright." You smile, looking at the little breakfast section, scooting in just a bit more so Leo can look at the menu as well. "I know I said waffles, but really you can order anything you like."

"You're paying, yes?" Nina asks.

You roll your eyes. "Yes, Nina. I'm paying. Though do try and feel a little guilty for my poor pocket."

She doesn't say anything, eyes roaming over the whole breakfast section rather than stopping on just the waffles like usual.

Maybe you'll get some lunch to balance out the sugar that's about to grace the table.

The smallest of taps tickles your shoulder. "What's this?"

He's pounting at the menu, the item catching your eye. "Ah, I forgot these places give awful names to their foods. It's an omelet," you clarify, "with little veggies mixed in. Probably cheese in the middle."

His eyes go wide as you mime the size of such a dish with your hand.

"Would you like it?" You ask, gently probing at the little bits of personality that have managed to unravel themselves in the short time you've known him.

He looks at you, hesitant as he nods. "Yes please."

You smile. "Nice choice, kid."

The praise makes him smile, just as a waiter comes and begins to take your orders.

Of course, Nina gets a few plates of waffles with various toppings that she found interesting with a plate of toast, Leo gets his omelet with extra cheese, and you indulge yourself with a pile of hashbrowns and eggs over top.

Mixing it all together on your plate always sends Kaz into a frenzy. You hope he can feel the monstrosity being prepared and weeps at the sin you're about to commit.

"Does that man hate me?" Leo suddenly asks.

You scrunch your brows, discreetly looking around. "What man?"

"That man from before, that yelled at you." He says, rubbing his finger over a fork he received. "Did I get you in trouble?"

Nina chuckles. "Kaz is just like that. Out of everyone in that place your protector here is of the least likely to get in trouble."

You smile at that, thinking of Kaz's tendencies.

What Nina said isn't exactly true. You get in trouble just as much as the rest of them. Kaz just forgives you easier, is more willing to talk and come to a compromise.

Tonight you'll walk into his office and he'll still be steaming, angry at you for not clearing such a major change with him. He'll glance up at you, shoulders stiff and that cavern between his brows only getting deeper.

But if things go right, that edge he has a habit of keeping sharp will dull, his jaw will slacken, and his eyes will soften. He'll still be the hardstrung mini boss hell bent on making up for the past, but he'll settle down in the present for a little while, drinking the warm tea you set on his desk and heart a bit more open to you.

"No, I'm not in trouble." You fix his collar. "Just have some explaining to do."

Leo frowns, opting to pick at the metal menus. His leg is bouncing up at down, temples flexing. "So he is mad at me?"

You glance at Nina. She has a tightness to her lips, not knowing what to say either.

A joke, then. "He's not allowed to be mad at you before he meets you. However, I will be mad at you if you piss yourself in this booth."

His cheeks turn scarlet, not knowing where to look anymore. "I didnt know where the bathroom was."

"It's fine." You look towards the back, pointing to a hallway. "Down there, there's a bathroom. Lock the door behind you and knock before you go in."

He looks a little angry when you say that, but gets up and sulks his way over to the hallway. At least he already knows basic manners, then.

You turn to Nina, a deep sigh escaping your lungs.

She snorts. "I can see you turning older from where you sit."

You kick her foot under the table. "I couldn't leave him. Can you check up on him when we get back to the Club? I don't imagine he'll want me poking around at him trying to find a wound that doesn't exist."

"Seeing as you bought me breakfast, I suppose I have to return the favor."

"Thank you." You grab her hand, the both of you squeezing. "I'm sorry for tricking you."

That makes her let out a belly laugh, a short "ha!" while her cheeks glow. "If your tricks always start out like this then you wont see me complaining. Besides," she looks towards the back of the diner, "he's a cutie. Wouldn't want him dropping dead anytime soon."

"I'm mostly just worried about how calm he is. I mean, would you be this fine with a stranger picking you off the street and taking you to get food?"

Nina sighs, giving your hand another light squeeze. "Im not sure he knows he should be afraid. Which is more of a curse than a blessing. He's what, six?"

"Probably? My oldest quess is seven, but with how small he is compared to how well-mannered he is he could be ten for all I know."

"He'll be fine. And so will you. Just take it as it comes as all the advice I can offer you. He's probably going through shock."

Leo slides back into the booth, hands slightly damp from what you hope is water and not urine. Somehow the food is already done within the short amount of time you order, and a waiter is sliding the dishes onto the table.

The omelet doesn't stand a chance in front of a young boy, and a quarter of it is nearly gone before the waiter leaves.

You spare a glance at Nina, who's looking at the rapidly disappearing slab of eggs with amazement."Well if he wasn't before he definitely is about to be."

-----

You tuck the kid into bed, freshly washed and with a clean set of clothes on his body. His hair was actually a much lighter shade of brown than you thought, and beneath all that grime rested a few freckles and an old scar.

Nina had checked him all over for any sort of injury, and found nothing besides a bit of high blood pressure, which wasn't surprising given he was absolutely starving.

A bit of food in him for the next few months should help tremendously, you think.

He just got done stuffing himself with some soup you made for you and the Crows, ignoring the fact that the Slat was filled to the brim with people who also wanted some. It was enough for them that you pointed to a box of recipes and some spare ingredients, cheers sounding throughout the building.

Kaz had took his and disappeared up to his room before you could say anything, still visibly irritated.

Nina thinks he's about six, which could be why he's relatively quick to trust.

"Are you sure he's not mad at me?" Leo asks, patting down a pillow you just sewed together and bring you out of your thoughts.

You squat by your bed, head in your hands. "Maybe," you sigh. "But it's not from anything you did. He just doesn't like to be mad at me so he's using it up on you."

"Thats not very kind."

You want to wrap this kid up tighter. "No, it's not." Instead you turn the lantern beside your bed down to a very low flame, creating a soft glow throughout the room. "But it's Kaz."

Leo takes that explanation like a champ, like he actually understands what that means, and let's his eyes fall shut.

You pick up the hot tea you made earlier, using your key to lock the door behind you as you make your way over to the attic.

Strangely, you feel anxious as you ascend the stairs. The tea shakes in your hands, rattling a little against the mismatched saucer plate. But you open his door and are met with the exact situation you predicted earlier, your shoulders relaxing.

"Tea will not stave my mood." He turns over a piece of paper, setting down an ink pen.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." You set the tea on his desk, avoiding the wells of the door. "I am simply offering a nice cup of tea for my nice boyfriend who is totally not about to shove his nice cane up my nice ass."

"The last place my cane will go is up your ass." He sets the page down, looking up at you. "That's incredibly unsanitary."

You root around on his desk, looking at the various papers he's marking and reading through. "And the blood isn't?

"Arguably easier to clean." He takes a packet out of your hand and replaces it with a different one. "Educate me as to why bringing a child into my club was a smart decision."

Immediately you deflate, falling back into a chair. You cringe when the wood digs into your bones.

Honestly, you already told him everything. He's small, food was available, you had space he could occupy, why not?

"I've already told you, Kaz. I had the ability, and I dont really see a reason why not. Why don't you educate me?"

He looks about ready to strangle something, exasperated sigh shoving it's way out of his lungs.

"What are you going to do on the ocassion he gets in the line of fire? How are you going to react if his parents find him? When they take him back? Can you say with absolute certainty that this child wont destroy you?" He stands with every question, looming over his desk with his hands splayed over the surface.

"Could you have said that about me when we got together?" You counter.

It's a rare thing, to see Kaz go quiet and contemplative.

You don't particularly enjoy it.

"I can't say that should any of those happen I won't be a little devastated. But is it really justifiable to push him out just because he has the potential to hurt me?" You stand too, the packet still in your hand. "As you said, he's my responsibility. When it comes to that, I'll take the fall. You don't have to be as worried as you are-"

"I do." He interrupts. "I do, because he's important to you. And unfortunately our moods and overall state of mind have an overwhelming effect on the other."

You take a moment to look at him, purple blotches under his eyes and his scars highlighted by angle of the light. He's exhausted, and it kind of hurts to realize some of that might have been your fault.

But you're not sorry.

"He thinks you hate him."

"I don't know enough about him to properly hate him."

You smile as he sits down, bringing the cup of tea with him. He's far more relaxed than before, and is just this side of tired that you see his eyelids begin to weigh down, a deep breath is all it takes for the tension to leave his brows completely as the warm beverage meets his mouth. You swear you hear him moan when he feels just how warm it still is.

"Thats what I told him, but I don't think he believes me."

"Suck to suck. Look at the packet."

It's rather thin, you realize, black string tying the pages together. On the front, which you skimmed and didn't really read earlier, it says "Tips for new Adoptees".

On the inside are various tables and notes Kaz seems to have scrounged together, his messy cursive completely filling the pages to the point you have trouble figuring out where a thought ends and another begins.

"Huh." Is all you say, chest heavy and feet scuffing the floor.

You dont... you don't know what to say. You're reading something about how much a child costs but you're not really taking it in. It's more than you could have ever imagined.

Kaz sets the tea down. "I imagine Leo isn't going to be the last. You know where the extra paper is."

He makes your heart so warm. It makes it hard to be annoyed at him for doubting you.

The stairs leading up to the attic creak, and immediately you and Kaz are on guard, your hand moving to your back where little daggers decorate your belt.

Leo's face pops into the room, and you immediately relax, an exasperated sigh exiting your lips. "Hey, Leo. What's going on?"

He inches into the room, hands tentatively still holding onto he door. "I feel bad about going to sleep in your bed. And I wanted to say sorry for doing what I did, Mr. Kaz."

Kaz quirks a brow. "And what is that?"

"Um..." Leo freezes, looking away. "I don't know."

Immediately you look at Kaz, raising your own brow. He gives you a look that you know would kill you if it could, and you smile.

"Leo, come here and meet Kaz." You wave him over, setting the packet aside.

He hesitates, making a move to walk into the room. But when his eyes land on Kaz, he stops.

"He doesnt bite." You try and crack a joke, and while he doesnt laugh, he does drop his shoulders and release the iron grip from the doors side.

Kaz stands and walks around the table, limp pronounced as usual without his cane as Leo closes the door and makes his way across the room.

They stare at eachother for a few moments, coming just a few feet apart behind your chair. You watch their eyes scan over the other, Leo eyeing Kaz's limp and little scars and Kaz inspecting Leo' clothes and the way his ear is slightly folded inwards.

Surprisingly, Kaz offers his gloved hand first, and Leo takes it almost instantly. You watch as they share a firm handshake, nodding at eachother.

"Please to make your anquaintance." There's a slight fumble to Leo's words, and it takes everything in your power to not interrupt their moment and correct him.

But Kaz just nods, releasing their hands. "Pleasure is all mine."

You smile, the little interaction forever cemented into your soul.

Leo definitely isn't going to be the last kid coming through here. Not when Kaz let's a smile pull at his lips just so, and makes a pen appear out of thin air for Leo to look at.

For now, however, this is enough.

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Tags:

@b3kk3r-by-br3kk3r @a-candle-maker @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @kylie18 @morrigan-crowmwell

#ask #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker x y/n #kaz brekker x you #kaz brekker fanfic #kaz brekker imagine #six of crows x reader #six of crows x y/n #six of crows x you #six of crows fanfic #six of crows imagine #grishaverse x you #grishaverse x reader #grishaverse x y/n #fanfic #imaginesfire

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vonev · 7 months

Text

Zombie apocalypse with Simon Riley

Sum: You finally meet your hot neighbor; albeit all it took was an apocalyptic disaster.

Oh my God, what the fuck?

“—reports states that an infectious zombie-like virus has begun to spread amongst multiple areas in the city—”

“—Please seek the nearest hazard shelter in your local area—”

A fucking zombie virus breakout is happening, in front of your lunch.

You'd never thought the national emergency alarms would ever blare during your lifespan, but you're here, a spoon full of egg drop soup in hand sitting across your TV and your mouth hung open as all your devices deafens the entire living room.

The telenovela you were watching was just getting so good too.

Immediately shooting your hand out to fetch your phone, scrambling for the national notification, horror dawns on you.

The fucking breakout is in my city.

Isn't it so lovely? On a random Tuesday afternoon in the middle of an approaching autumn.

What is it that they do in those zombie shows again...? Oh yeah, run.

Wait—no, no. Pack your shit then run.

So you did. Your feet working the fastest they've ever been scattering toward your bedroom to dig out the ancient duffel bag you've not touched in eons. Shoving essentials in there: tampons, pads, your Kindle (because God forbid an apocalypse stops you from finishing a book) and a couple of other things you think you'd need...a thong is one of them, right?

The loud alarms never stops, it only adds to your increasing anxiety threatening to bubble over and spill all over the floor; you didn't think they'd go on for so long, but they do, and honestly they sound fucking terrifying.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Think—

Wallet, passport (in case you wanted to fly over to Milan, you know.), all the money you had was stored inside the bank; speaking of, you wonder if anyone had started robbing stores yet after the alarms sounded.

Nope, can't think about that right now, because the more time you waste, the higher of a chance you'd end up having your face bitten off by some freaks—zombie or not. So you scramble once again, head full of doubts and worry; good thing you kept refraining yourself from ever getting a pet because holy shit having to sprint with a massive fluff ball in your arm would be the last thing you'd want to do.

Just then, screams started filling your ears; an indication that you spent too much time dwindling.

Looking down you scoff at your casual wear: a tank top that exposed too much and sweatpants. Making your way out along your bedroom you snatched a jacket you promised yourself you'd wash last week.

Good thing you didn't, I guess.

Stepping foot into the living room once more, your eyes dart around in a hurry, practically running into the kitchenette to grab canned foods and your leftovers from yesterday. It's just a sandwich, but it'll hopefully last until whenever you can finally eat again. You repeated the same conundrum with your bathroom, frantically pushing things aside with more things to make space for other things.

Alright, you think, that should be everything...

You even got that first-aid kit you bought from Amazon months ago, thinking that someday you'll need it.

Always trust your instincts.

With that, you waste no time scurrying to the front door, fitting yourself into a comfortable pair of shoes then fetching your keys from the bowl above the accent table you probably spent too much money on (they looked really cute) and inserting it into the lock, cursing yourself when you kept missing the keyhole. Eventually, you got it, and with too much brute force, you threw the door open and stepped out into the hall.

You wince from the loud banging sound of the door you pushed; to your right, your neighbor's door opens as you walk out.

Tilting your head, you see the neighbor casually fixing his shoes with absolutely no care regarding the current situation, a bag slung over his broad shoulder in contrast to you desperately holding onto your heavy duffel bag.

What the fuck is his deal? How is he so...calm?

You didn't realize it 'till now, but said neighbor turns his head toward you, and it's as if a lightbulb flare up in your head.

Oh.

He stares at you, unmoving with his hand still on the doorknob.

It's the hot neighbor.

What was his name again? Sam...Samuel...no, Semen...wait, definitely not.

Whatever. You'll call him Semen in your head, because you can't be bothered standing there to recall his name. Not while he's staring at you so intently, either—like you owed him something.

God, is he a sight to look at; full brows with lips looking so kissable with a cute pout, blonde strands covers his front as though he'd just woken up from the best nap of his life, the faint yet noticeable scars littered across his face so perfectly. Tall, mysterious and muscles that threatened the seams of the too-tight shirt he wore. Is he even aware?

And his eyes.

You can't even begin to mention the amount of times you'd shamefully indulged yourself with those eyes of his in your mind—sometimes, you dream of them too. Who could blame you though? Yeah, you definitely feel normal about him. You barely interacted with him, only ever seeing him the rare times he'd come home. You assumed he's ex-military or a military personnel on leave since he's been back home more than usual in the recent months. You wouldn't know, though, considering the most words you said to him was "hi" when he moved into his flat a year ago. That, and you're generally kinda afraid of strangers.

"D'ya have a staring problem?"

Right. You can't just stare at someone and not say anything, that's creepy.

"No," you shuffle on your feet a little. "Do you?"

He scoffs with a small shake of his head and closes the door behind him before walking away to the lift. Your brows furrowed, lips pursed, slung your duffel bag over your shoulder and chased after him. You both stood in front of the lift for a good (incredibly awkward) minute before the familiar ding sounded. Once inside the lift, you can't help but feel the unspoken tension rise as the two of you stood close to each other.

You swear he had his eyes on you for a moment, but you don't dare to call him out.

"...you come ‘round often?"

He snaps his gaze to you instantly.

Great. Your mouth has no filter whatsoever. Mentally slapping yourself, you open your mouth to whisper an apology; he beats you to it, though, a soft chuckle from him and it strikes into your heart like a stake.

"I live—lived here," crossing his arms, his eyes softened a little. "Just got discharged from the military a couple of months ago."

Bingo.

Silently patting your back in your head as you nod at his response and humming. "That's cool, what did you do for the military?" it may have been too much to pry, but it doesn't hurt; plus, it's pretty much the end of the world as you speak.

He stood there, completely rigid from top to bottom. The silence was deafening this time around, so much so that when the lift sounded once more with a loud ding, it made you flinch.

"What didn't I do for the military?"

That's...

"...is that rhetorical?" None of you walked out of the lift, just standing there in each other’s company. Oddly, you don’t mind it.

He shrugs, getting out of the tiny space—and you hadn’t realized you’d been holding in your breath when you finally exhaled through your teeth.

I guess I have my answer.

It doesn’t take long for you to catch up, nor for the two of you to realize what an utter mess the outside world had become when he opens the door.

People roamed about, running ‘round and tripping over each other and on top of each other, cooperating on wreaking absolute havoc on the streets. Lots of screaming, too much of it, in fact. Jogging down the stairs, someone almost bumps into your side, but not before he pulls them back with a frown on his face that had the poor guy screeching and scrambling away from his grip.

Oh, now come to think of it—

—“Hey what’s your n—“

A hoard of groans catches your attention, cutting your words short; you turn toward the source, squinting at the scene from afar. A group of people started dashing toward your way, their faces an evident blur of confusion, surprise and horror. It would make sense, because as they slowly get closer and closer, a giant figure gradually appears in your vision—and it looks fucking disfigured—like the textbook embodiment of an eldritch creature. Sure enough, it breaks out into a sprint, chasing down its next victim; pulling the back of an unfortunate businessman’s suit and it flung the man over its head. You can hear the poor man’s scream echo in your mind as you watch his body fall right into the creature’s mouth; next thing you know, his head snaps off in its jaw.

Your blood runs cold, the shock from seeing such a sight sends an unnerving terror through every nerve; your breathing gets heavier, beads of sweat breaking out from your skin—yet you can’t take your eyes off of it. Ever watched a car crash? Yeah, exactly that.

“Uh oh.”

You don’t know what to do; years and years of medical training in school hadn’t exactly prepared you for this situation, even if some of the things you’ve seen are horror beyond comprehension. Your body doesn’t cooperate with your commands no matter how hard you try; they’re stuck to the ground like glue, and as the horrid looking creature slowly bolts toward your way, the way you’ve become a mere spectator to your body should concern you, but your eyes are transfixed on that thing—

—it wasn’t until someone roughly tug your forearm that you realized you almost fucking killed yourself by standing still too long.

“Fuck, come on, let’s go.”

You should’ve probably questioned why he’s remained so calm despite the calamity surrounding him. It’s an admirable trait, really, a part of you wants to thank him profusely for not leaving you behind; in the span of time you spaced out, he could’ve easily gotten away in a fleet—like a gust of the wind, and you wouldn’t have noticed nor would you have blamed him. So much for being medically trained.

He ran, and you trailed right behind him. Even during such a dire moment of your life, you have to try your hardest to not get distracted with the way his muscles contract as he swiftly moves along with the breeze. No time for thirsting, you stare at his arms, how they effortlessly flex with each step, Okay, maybe a little bit of thirsting.

You’ve no idea how long you both ran; doing your best to dodge every obstacle lunged into your face, but with the soreness slowly creeping up your soles, you wonder if you could keep up—Semen, on the other hand, is doing just fine. Just keep pushing, after all, how hard is it to run forever? Super fucking hard apparently; unfortunate for you, the conveniently placed fallen pipe on the ground became your nemesis as you missed a jump and fall on your fucking face. Your duffel bag cushioning only your left arm, body absorbing all the impact from the fall.

Ouch! wouldn’t even describe the pain you were feeling. You might have a broken nose because it sure fucking feels like it.

Semen immediately halts, his head snaps back as if his gut instinct told him you stumbled and fell. He’d be correct; attempting to get on your elbows can only get you so far, your adrenaline runs out too quickly—and suddenly it feels as though your body has been lit on fire. Well, you’re being dramatic, but your ankle sure doesn’t feel fine like it did a minute ago. You try to stand up, and Semen crouches down in front of you with his hands extending out to help you up; but the harder he pulls the worse you cry out. When you try to move your right ankle it just fucking hurts like a bitch.

This is it, you think; your breath coming out haggard and harsh, I’m gonna fucking die.

“Just—go, just go, I think I sprained my ankle,” holding back furious tears, you sniffle. “Leave me and run, it’s okay.” God, was it ever this hard to let someone go? Even if the selfish part of you wants him to stay. He mumbles something incoherent under his breath, people and vehicles running by your bodies and their cries fill the void in your head—not their fault they prioritize their lives over yours—but it still stings your eyes to think about. People really do show their true colors in the most desperate times.

He reaches over, and you almost swatted his arms away—his stern gaze told you to stop, and you did.

Flipping you over in an instant, his arms hook under your back and knees, hoisting you into his arms as though you weighed nothing. In a feat of panic, you push against his chest; you can’t stress how much you’d rather not be the reason he’s held back and be killed for it. He sends you a final warning look; a stare so chilling it had you reeling back your arms into your chest and obediently lay against his.

Impressively, he maneuvers around everyone else with ease, dodging and zig-zagging, only bumping a few shoulders here and there. Worry clouds your head; what if he trips? Or better yet, what if he realized you’re not much of use and dumped you on the streets? It’s absurd you’d even have the luxury to overthink while he’s busting his ass to save both of your lifes—how the fuck are you supposed to make up to that? You can’t bake him your infamous croissants (you’ve mastered the craft), you doubt appliances are as convenient in the wild as it is in homes—you hope he’ll find a place to hide soon; he can’t run infinitely.

Maybe you should stop thinking too much useless shit and start strategizing instead.

Okay, it should be easy; your eyes frantically search the surrounding area: the alleyway? No, way too risky. Run into one of the homes? Still risky, and those nasty creatures were breaking into them from what you saw last. Fuck, you wish you’d bought that expensive ass car few weeks ago when it was on sale, then again, who knew you would require it so soon? Wait, did he have a car? You don’t think so, his designated parking slot has been empty since forever.

As he kept sprinting on, you noticed more and more of those zombies started pouring in from multiple angles—it would be harder and harder to avoid their attacks; you try not to dwell on the gruesome sights of people being mauled down the streets. Out of nowhere, a mangled arm lunged at you, though he swerved just in time to avoid; you didn’t even have time to register what occurred until you blinked again.

“Was that—holy fuck,” your body involuntarily shivers at how close you were to dying right then; all his efforts would’ve gone to waste. It served as a reminder that death is now only a mere hand reach; one wrong breath and say bye-bye to your life.

Mortality is such a fragile thing.

At least you don’t have a family making you worry to death about, just good ol’ you—always been you.

Does he? Eyes drifting over to his face, you trace the scars on his neck with an invisible hand. You’d have to play 21 questions with him later, if there’s a later. Seeing how things are moving, you’re slowly coming to terms with the concept of death; for some odd reason, you just know he’d keep you alive as long as he can—you will too, with him. God, you grunt, this feels so sappy. You have to constantly remind yourself that you’ve known your neighbor properly for less than an hour; don’t get too attached. It only ever comes back to bite your ass.

In your peripheral you notice a sluggish zombie digging into the driver’s side of a sizable car through the broken window—blood splatters the inside of the car’s windshield as the zombie dives further in. The car is alive, tugging at his shirt, you hastily gesture toward the spot with a shaky finger. Peering up, you don’t miss the way his brows knit together and how his lips are pulled into a thin line—he understood soon afterward; and switched his path to match the direction of the vehicle.

He’d have to fight with the obscene thing for it, but it’s worth a try, even with you in his arms.

Approaching it, he doesn’t hesitate to kick a leg up to hook it under the weighted zombie and throw him down to the biting asphalt; just as it was about to spring up—he stomps a leg over its head without a hitch. Oh my fucking God, excuse your blasphemy, that’s the brain matter. You would know how a human’s brain looked; with countless hours spent plastering your head onto your textbook about How To Surgically Remove a Brain for Dummies the image practically tattooed itself on your mind. It’s never a good view, the textbooks can’t accurately reinvent the feeling of disgusting sliminess into their pages after all.

Your knight in shining armor doesn’t prolong his luck; throwing the driver’s door open, he ducked his head into the driver’s seat (not before chucking the dead body laid in the seat out), sliding you into the passenger side; you have to awkwardly make fit for yourself in the seat as he rushed into his side and pressed down on the brake, slamming his door closed. There was no time to relax, though, upon seeing him toy with the car, people started piling over the trunk, clawing at the metal slate with their bloodied nails as more zombies lurked closer—few unlucky numbers were dragged away from the car, leaving a myriad of gory handprints behind on the trunk.

He grits his teeth, he holds an arm out in front of you; confused, you turned to him as he slammed down on the acceleration.

“Oof—” That’ll knock the wind out of you.

It’s proven to be challenging for him to drive down a road filled with civilians; but soon enough, people started parting ways for him and a few other vehicles to pass through, afraid of being hit by a car.

“Buckle up, love.”

Huh? Love?

On the outside, you’re as calm and cool as you can be: you know, in a zombie apocalypse with your handsome neighbor driving you to (hopefully) safety; the inside…it feels as though your heart soared into the sky—you know it wasn’t meant to be flirtatious, but damn it, a girl can dream. Scrambling your hands to reach for the seatbelt, you grimaced at the sight of gooey matter dotting its material, you buckled up anyway; better safe than sorry. And because he asked so nicely, your heart flutters once more.

He drove on for quite a while, managing to duck and swerve others on the road (albeit with a lot of trouble) and eventually reaching the highways—not that it was far, but you’ve never exactly drove, or been outside your little area. Why would you need to? Everything you’d ever need was there: a delicious shawarma shop across from your flat, embroidery store…in case you needed some embroidering done, a family-owned Indian restaurant that served the best naan and dal—point is, you’ve pretty much got everything covered in your small area.

But why do you feel like you’re missing something…

…your fucking duffel bag.

Everything was in there—your ID’s, necessities, your fucking family photo back when you were a baby; it all holds importance to you one way or another—

—and they’re gone.

Slumped against your seat, you hadn’t even realized your shoulders started convulsing until teardrops fell on your curled fists in your lap. How could you be so fucking careless? Tilting your head down, your hands fly up to rub away stray tears that can’t seem to stop falling from your eyes regardless of your effort; you hope he hasn’t noticed (he did, eyes squinting in worry and unsure) because you seem pretty fucking pathetic right now.

(He doesn’t mind, he’s more worried your tears will drown the both of you before getting to the motel)

“We’re,” for some reason, words get caught in his throat—congealed, like an immovable lump—watching you silently sob to yourself from the side. "We're going to a motel."

He shouldn’t care; he doesn’t know why he does, especially since you’re still a stranger (that he saved, again, he’s not sure why) he coincidentally shared a hallway with for about a year; he barely knew you, either, only knowing you by name because he had seen it stamped on a few mails that fell from your mailbox. He also knows that you bake, a lot, often times the smell would traverse through the small cracks underneath his door and reach his senses—he’d debate knocking on your door each time, he wouldn’t know what to say though: “I smelled your baking, they smell amazing, can I take the whole thing?” or “‘Aye you’re actually kinda fuckin’ cute.”

Yeah, he’s not too good at conversing with strangers either, especially a cute one like you.

And now that you’re sitting right next to him, shoulders no longer heaving as he keeps driving down the vast highway, he’s not so sure what the next move should be. A couple of quick glances let him know that somewhere along the way, you had fallen asleep, head lolled against the window, your chest rising and falling with a silent rhythm. The sun is setting, the warm glow casts down on your figure—you look like an angel.

He wouldn’t admit it out loud, of course—but deep down, he knows he’ll keep that image of you and engrave it into the back of his head.

And he knows just the place to take you to.

#angst #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #cod mwii #ghost cod #simon riley #ghost x you #apocalypse #zombie apocalypse #im having a brainrot yet again #they should kiss kiss fall in love #simon riley x you #ghost call of duty #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty

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heartfullofleeches · 1 year

Note

Could we maybe see the first meeting between fast food worker reader and the handpit

"Y/n! Some kid lost his teddy in the ball pit!"

You peel yourself from the breakroom chair with the minuscule amount of energy you had regained from it. You learned the first week on the job to never expect a moment of rest, but that didn't make losing precious break time any better.

The ball pit had been a pain since its reopening a full week back. Customers loosing precious items, child claiming to have been scared out of the pit by a scary monster. In defense of the first thing it probably isn't the greatest idea to wear great grandma's wedding ring to a restaurant where the police leaves the phone on the receiver when they call in.

You enter the main area. A parent shouts at the cashier while clutching a sniffing child's name; a glimmer of hope in their eyes as you walk out.

"This is exactly why I don't let my children into those disease pools! If you don't bring my son, his toy this entire franchise is going under!:

Your coworker's eyes water. You throw them a thumb's up as you pedal to the playarea. It's common knowledge you're in this nightmare together so most helped one another when they could.

The play area was your average child's environment. Overhanging tubes leading to a twisting slide. Colorful walls and statues of the mascot looming in watch. The ball pit. The windows to the parking lot had been painted over after similar reports of odd behaviors outside.

You walk over to the wall where the net for such occasions was stored, but it's gone. Figures. Nothing's easy around here. You pop your shoes off and squeeze them into a cubby as per comand of your commerical marketed overlord. You fish around at the top before doing as expected and climbing into the pit when you can't find it on the surface sweep.

The balls come up to your waist, but you can feel they go further than that as you kicking through them. The ball pit was as big as your average swimming pool, so you definitely had your work cut out for you. Better than being screamed at by customers from hell you suppose.

The search is gruelling. Each ball you push out of the way is replaced by a tidal wave of more. You unknowingly sink down to your chest as your frustration rises. It feels like the pit hasn't been cleaned in ages either. Some of the balls sticky and wet, and you're poked and stabbed at by objects were too thin and hard to be a plush bear-

What was that?

You freeze. A pocket forms in the sea of balls to your left, sucking the plastic orbs into themselves like a technicolor sinkhole. You figure its because you had previously just lift that area and swim forward. Something tugs on your pant's leg mid stroke, but your other foot kicks it away as you move. As the lights flicker you get the feeling someone is messing with you.

"Not funny!"

So much for being a team player. You better hurry and find this thing so you can head out early today. About tew feet in front of you, the bear's button eye watches your struggle. Stopping it, you dart towards it, but it sinks into the pit. It then reappears another foot away.

"What the hell.... This really isn't funny.."

You try again. It disappears. This time it teleports behind you. Stagnate in the spherical waters, you watch as the bear disappears and pops back within view in a different location. Sometimes it's at the end of the pit, sometimes it's mere inches away. This definitely isn't right. You need to get out of here. As you swim for the ledge, something drags you below.

You kick and flail, a scream fighting its way up your chest that you shove right back down to save energy. You can't breath. Your body feels weightless like you're swimming in a lake, yet the same air as falling out of the skin. Hands grab at various parts of yoir body. Items flash by as you're dragged further. Ancient photos, priceless watches- name tags.

As a hand wraps around your throat, you scream.

"You..."

Your plunge takes an abrupt stop.

"We did not recognize you at first, but that voice. It is unforgettable."

The hands turn you over. You can't tell if it's onto your back or your stomach. All you really can see is the plastic balls, but if you squint you can make out two white dots in the endless sea.

"So this is your face. We have only seen it in passing from your memories. How peculiar is man that in our eons of evaluation, your cerebrum is the single power that has twine our minds into one? In this "pit" of all things."

The hands stroke at your face; force your eyes to remain open. They carcass your tense form, easing your body but not your spirit. You want to cover your ears, but you can't. The voice is so loud; what feels like millions cramming into your small brain at volume which makes your teeth rattle with each syllable. In the same vein, it is the softest melody you've ever heard - splitting your fragile mind in two and sewing it together again with its gentle hush.

"You are different. You cannot enjoy us. The honor of being your new home would be wasted with your mind lost to the masses. You are to remain in this establishment until we decide what to do with you."

The hands center on your torso and push you upwards. Light pokes through the spaces between the balls as you're forced to the surface of the pit. The teddy bear lays on your chest as you surf atop the balls, staring down as if it's wondering the same thing as you.

What the fuck just happened

#Fast food reader #yandere oc #yandere x reader #yandere scenarios #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere #yandere insert #yandere blurb #yandere drabble #yandere teratophilia #yandere monster #yandere x y/n

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seireiteihellbutterfly · 2 months

Text

Second Chance Sorcerer

Chapter 1

Summary: After surviving Mahito's Idle Transfiguration in the Shibuya Incident, Nanami finds himself in an unknown realm between life and death. Will he escape?

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Fem! reader

A/N: I can't believe I actually got around to writing this! *sobs*. I hope everyone does take the time to read it, and enjoys what I've created here. This will be a multi-chapter fic, quite different from the one-shots I've posted before. It was originally made with an OC, which can be read on my AO3 account, but all changes have been made to y/n here.

Thank you @actuallysaiyan for making the lovely title banner and for listening to me rant and giving me all the encouragement to finish this chapter. Everyone needs a cheerleader like you. 💜

Nanami masterlist | Chapter 2

“You’ve got it from here…Itadori kun.”

Those were the last words Nanami remembers saying before Mahito’s Idle Transfiguration fragmented his soul into smithereens. All he felt was pain, gut-wrenching pain as his soul collapsed and rearranged itself, piece after piece trying various combinations of alignment, trying to come back into some semblance of a whole, like chromosomes after being hit with a lethal dose of radiation.

His eyes squeeze shut, senses overloading as he prepares to meet whatever awaits him on the other side. Would it be a lovely afterlife like he’d hoped? Filled with long days on the beach, reading the backlog of books he’d been holding off on? Laying in the sun, no work, no obligations, just doing whatever he wanted to his heart’s content? He felt warmth against his chest, a bright light emanating from it, and for a split second, it felt like someone was calling out to him, a very familiar voice…

And all of a sudden it stops. With a thump, he crumples on something solid, his side colliding with the surface. Was this it? Was he in the afterlife? Nanami hesitantly opens his eyes and takes in his surroundings.

At first, it appears like he’s landed on a sidewalk that wound deeply into a very gloomy and derelict-looking city. He could make out buildings, traffic lights, and little shops tucked away in between these larger structures, all of them looking abandoned or in various states of disuse. Not exactly what he’d hoped for. Was this actually the Great Beyond?

Nanami pushes himself to his feet, relieved when he realizes he’s not in pain anymore. Had Mahito sent him to a separate contained domain? He squints, trying to find his bearings. There was no sunlight wherever he was, but the street lamps were lit along the length of the sidewalk, casting shadows along the way. He cautiously looks around. The place looks strangely familiar…

He grasps his weapon, the blade having still been in his hand when Mahito touched him, and advances down the road. As he walks, he realizes with a jolt that wherever he is appears to be a phantom of his neighborhood. He recognized this road now, as he had frequented it so often. Up ahead was the grocery store he would go to every Saturday. And right opposite it, a little cafe he would sometimes wander into for their lovely croissants and artisan coffee. The more he walked, the more he started piecing together a map of this area, astonished at what he was seeing. This certainly couldn’t be a domain expansion. There was far too much detail resembling the real world and, although the place gave a foreboding aura, seemed to be unoccupied except for himself.

He stops in the middle of the sidewalk, lowers his weapon, and tries to think. Logic was telling him Mahito had sent him somewhere, perhaps a sealed space, rather than kill him outright. But if that was the case, why was he healed? His entire left side which had been covered with fatal burns was gone, the skin healed over like new, his eye regenerated, hair grown back. His clothes and shoes had somehow been restored to their original condition, his glasses back to their position on his face.

Things weren’t adding up. He continued to walk, then came upon a library he remembered passing by in the real world but had never really paid attention to before. Deciding this was as good a spot as any to glean information about his whereabouts, he enters, squinting through the darkness. Lines and lines of shelves stood neatly arranged in the building. Nanami walks between the rows, pausing in between sections for a brief moment before continuing his perusing.

He rounds the corner, then quickly presses his back against a bookshelf as he senses an unusual energy signature fading away from him. So he wasn’t alone, and the thought wasn’t comforting. The energy didn’t match a human or a sorcerer, so he had to assume it was a special-grade curse. After his interactions with Jogo and Mahito, he didn’t know what to expect in terms of its abilities. He was tempted to escape but knew he had nowhere to go. If he was trapped in this domain what hope was there to escape this odd being he was sensing?

Raising the clothed blade with its polka dot pattern, he follows the energy steadily, not daring to breathe too loudly as he advances. It moves stealthily and silently, as though trying to elude him. This makes him immediately wary, sensing he could be getting lured into a trap. He follows at a distance, then stops as he comes to a reading section, the area cleared out and decorated with little chairs, poufs, and tables. Struggling to see in the dim light, he moves into the open, instincts screaming that he’s making a mistake. He pauses, trying to sense the energy again.

“It’s rude to chase one with a weapon you know.” A voice says from directly behind him. Nanami startles and spins around to face his pursuant, arms immediately coming before him to block an impending attack. Upon seeing the sight before him, his gaze fills with both fear and wonder, the being in front of him a vision of amazement.

All he sees at first are a pair of piercing silver eyes that seem to probe the very depths of his soul. There’s a quiet insightfulness to them like he was looking into the eyes of an old friend, yet an unsettling intensity that made him feel apprehensive. The being appeared to lack a shape, but as Nanami took another step back, the light from the street lamps showed it to be made of wisps of black shadowy mist, neither fluid nor gas, swirling endlessly around it.

Something within him tells him he shouldn’t fear this creature, yet all instincts were telling him to charge the attack before it got to him first. They stood, staring at each other through the dimness, before Nanami gathered his courage and asked, “What are you? A curse?”

The being huffs, as if it was an impertinent question. “What am I…Who am I…The question has been asked for centuries. Yet, even I do not have an appropriate answer…But I am most definitely not a curse.”

It glides silently over the floor, and Nanami instinctively raises his weapon. The being appears to look amused, based on the way those intense silver eyes glowed. “Put away your blade, Nanami Kento. The things I could have done to you once you entered my realm can’t be defended against by you, or even a special-grade sorcerer for that matter. I doubt even Ryomen Sukuna would stand a chance against me.” The smoky form billows, ebbing and flowing as it circles him.

Not entirely reassured, Nanami puts his weapon back in the holder of his suspenders. There’s an odd feeling of reverence despite the eerie nature of the being.

“I am what they call The Mediator, The One Before Death, or The Spectator.” It answers his question.

“And where am I?” Nanami asks the shadow.

“You are in between worlds, Nanami Kento.”

“In between worlds?” The blonde man repeated skeptically. Did such a thing exist? He had never given death much thought (beyond the dying part), and always assumed it was like being asleep one moment and waking up in paradise the next. To be in between worlds…had Mahito somehow just locked him away in another dimension that was a bleak version of his neighborhood?

“So…am I…alive? But in another dimension?”

The Mediator looked at him thoughtfully, as though wondering how best to explain to him. “You are alive for now. But you definitely died, otherwise you wouldn’t have ended up here in my realm.”

“I died, and came back to life?” The sorcerer frowned at the obscureness with which this said. “That makes no sense. People don’t just arbitrarily resurrect from the dead. I was severely weakened. My soul was unprotected. Mahito’s attack should have killed me.”

“It did. However, something at that moment reversed the attack and restored the various fragments your soul had shattered into.”

Disbelievingly, Nanami started running his hands over his torso as though trying to find evidence that he had died. It was just…fantastical…impossible…He had survived Mahito’s attack? What divine intervention could have possibly saved him from something so deadly? As his fingers near his wrist, they brush over a small chain, hidden under the cuff of his shirt. He quickly undoes the button and looks incredulously at the small charm, an Aum symbol, dangling from the chain.

“Y/n…” he murmurs her name softly. His apprentice. He now remembers her fastening one of these to not just him but to Ino and Itadori as well before they were deployed to Shibuya.

“That’s probably what saved you,” the being said evidently, interrupting Nanami’s thoughts. “Whatever that is, it was imbued with a heavy concentration of neutralized curse energy. So when you died from the attack, that charm activated and repaired your soul.”

Nanami absently fingered the charm, trying to think. Y/n’s ability to neutralize cursed energy had improved immensely under his tutelage, he knew that, but he hadn’t imagined it to this extent. Her other ability included being able to manipulate any cursed energy she neutralized into forms of heat, summoning flames on her palms that towered at least 20 feet tall. How she had imbued the energy into the charm was anyone’s guess.

“And I’m in between worlds.” He repeats again, trying to make sure he’s not misunderstanding the conversation.

“Indeed. Think of this as your own personal purgatory.” Those silver eyes bore into him like moons against a black sky, waiting to see his reaction.

Purgatory. Nanami pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose, unable to fathom how insane this sounded. “I thought purgatory was for people who needed to be redeemed.”

“It is usually. But in your case, it looks like the veil partitioning the worlds got confused, seeing as how you left one dead, and then suddenly became alive in another. Death probably couldn’t figure out what to do with you so it sent you here instead.”

“So I’m stuck here?”

Despite the miraculousness of it all, Nanami couldn’t help but feel a twinge of irritation. He had been prepared for death for several years now. So much to the point that he had a will drafted, signed, and sealed, declaring all his possessions to be donated to charity since he had no other family or next of kin. A copy of the keys to his house had been entrusted to the lawyer who had helped draft the will. He had all his affairs set in order with the expectation that his death would be sudden and he was unwilling to burden anyone to deal with the repercussions.

He had known he would die in the line of duty. He had accepted his fate the moment Mahito had laid a hand on him in the underground, welcoming death as a tranquil friend. His whole life had been struggle after struggle, a gamble, clawing his way to stay alive. All he could say was that he had been lucky so far. There had to be a moment when that luck ran out. He had been dreaming of knowing peace and death seemed to be the only option for that.

“Does it bother you, that you are alive?” The purgatory being asks him curiously, noting his less-than-happy expression. “Most would rejoice at this second chance for life.”

The question hits Nanami with a gravity he hadn’t been expecting. “Most people haven’t lived my life. I’ve done enough. I’m tired. I’ve earned the right to a peaceful death.”

“And yet, it looks like someone desperately wanted you to live.” Those hypnotic eyes wander over to the charm dangling on his wrist. “Is that not reason enough? To not want to die?”

Disturbed by the notion, Nanami grips the charm. Y/n’s energy had kept him alive, unwittingly preventing him from moving on into the afterlife. Whether that had been her intent was debatable. Her desperately wanting him to live? It just didn’t seem likely to him. Sure, perhaps she didn’t want him to die in the way that people didn’t want others to die in general. But beyond that? He couldn’t fathom her being so consumed by the thought of his death that she would create a charm that essentially kept him alive after having his soul damaged to what should have been a point beyond repair.

Y/n had a late start in her career as a sorceress, and certain concepts about it seemed to stymie her, more typically seen in a younger student than someone her age. He had repeatedly told her to not worry about him when he took her on missions, to value her life more than his. He drilled it into her head when he taught her self-defense, that if there was an opportunity to escape she should take it, the hand-to-hand combat sometimes leaving bruises on her skin because she’d been unwilling to take a shot at him. It always pained him when that happened, marking her, leaving those unsavory blemishes on her but how else was she going to learn that fairness wasn’t something that existed in Jujutsu? Her willingness to get a little scuffed up if it meant protecting him from a curse irked him. She was rather like a kitten unwilling to be shooed away from a reluctant petter. His lips curled wryly as he imagined her expression if she ever heard that comparison out loud.

‘Don’t be so cruel Nanami san!’ She’d probably say, those large (color) eyes looking at him reproachfully. And for a moment, his mind’s eye couldn’t picture anything else except that; those large (color) eyes, and the shock in them when he told her that he didn’t think he’d live very long. She hadn’t said anything to convince him his mindset was wrong, but she did look like he had betrayed her by expressing his very honest and logical opinion. As though he had broken an oath to her by not saying he wanted to live long and prosper.

Nanami gives himself a mental shake. This wasn't the time to be thinking about Y/ni's opinion on his death. The bigger task at hand now was figuring out what to do about his imprisonment in purgatory.

All the while, the shadow hadn’t wavered and had merely continued to look at him work through his inner monologue. Realizing that Nanami had reached a limit, it said, “No, you are not stuck here. At least, not for very long.”

The sorcerer’s head snaps up at those words, eyes narrowing behind the green glass of his frames. “What do you mean, not very long?”

“Well, the neutralized energy imbued into that charm? It’s not infinitely going to remain contained in that. The seal broke when it saved your life, and it’s essentially trickling out little particles of it. It will run out at some point, although it’s difficult to say when that is.”

“And when it does run out?”

“You’ll die.” The being says simply. “And move on into the next realm. That’s the way purgatory is supposed to work. Cleanse you to be fit to live in the realm of death.”

“And it’s unknown when that will happen?”

The shadow appears to ponder his question before offering a hesitant guess. “A few days, maybe 4 or 5 at maximum, based on the energy intensity that it's currently emitting.”

“And what am I to do for 4 to 5 days here?” Nanami gestures around the gloomy library, obviously not impressed with this arrangement. These extra days before his impending death somehow made a vein pop in his forehead. It was like a pre-death before the actual one.

“Well, you must have noticed by now that this is the neighborhood you used to live in. You are free to wander around here and experience your old life one last time. You can visit your apartment, take the subway and wander around the Jujutsu High campus, or watch a movie in the theater.” The shadow suggested, sounding like a pleasant tour guide for the afterlife. “Think of it as a vacation before your death.”

It struck Nanami as a little absurd but he strokes his chin, considering. “And that’s my only option? To experience my old life before dying?”

“It’s not the only option. You could go back and live.”

A pregnant pause hangs in the air at those words. Nanami’s eyes widen at the thought. He could go back to the land of the living? He hadn’t even considered that as an option. He only had death on his mind. Thoughts of living on a beach, days filled with no responsibility still flickered through his mind but at the same time…

“What is it about life that makes you so hesitant?” The purgatory being asks him inquisitively.

Nanami opens his mouth but no words come out. Had he been thinking about how to escape his situation that all he had ever thought about was dying? It wasn’t unexpected of him. He had learned so long ago that life was mostly shit, with a few moments of relief folded in. At least it was for curse users. He remembers seeing all the people he knew die, how he had tried to escape from Jujutsu, only to be sucked back in because he knew he didn’t fit in anywhere else. When faced with the choice of remaining in a job of corporate greed, or one that endangered his life but was somewhat altruistic, the choice became apparent. He had returned to Jujutsu. Not entirely selflessly, but with the idea that it was the quicker way out of his misery.

“Is there nothing you would like to return to?” The shadow presses. “Remember that you are a very rare case. Hardly anyone ends up in purgatory under your circumstances. I would hate to see a life go to waste because you don’t know what to do with it.”

A sudden memory comes into Nanami’s mind. A day of unexpected frivolity, when Y/n, Yuji, and Ino had convinced him to come along to an amusement park. It was an odd day but to his surprise, he hadn't hated it. Y/n had mostly stayed away from the roller-coasters, leaving it to Yuji and Ino, wandering with Nanami to the food stalls, closer in age to him than she was to the boys. It was a strange feeling of domesticity he had never experienced before, almost like they were a hodgepodge family of misfits. It was the closest thing he had experienced to a normal day in a long time.

But days like that were rare. They were like sprinkles on top of ice cream. People could never have more sprinkles than ice cream. Life just didn't work that way. However, Nanami found himself contemplating his choices. Perhaps he had been so jaded that he thought life was wading through ice cream instead of appreciating the sprinkles? And here he was dreaming about sprinkles when he was stuck in purgatory.

He sighs and shakes his head. “If I did go back, would it make a difference?” He asks doubtfully.

The being’s eyes crinkle warmly, almost like it's smiling. “To one person, yes. And isn't that more than enough?”

The charm swings from his wrist like a pendulum. He considers the shadow’s words and feels his heart clench uncomfortably. The stakes almost felt too high, wagering his return to life on the chance that it would make a difference to Y/n. Well, maybe not just her. He frowns as he feels the energy in the trinket resonate for a brief moment when he thinks of her, as though it was trying to convince him to make the gamble. He had never quite paid attention to her energy signature before now, so concentrated within the tiny object; it felt like a warm cup of coffee on a lazy Saturday morning. He feels disconcerted that he could sense this now and it was making him want to change his mind about dying. He sighed deeply, feeling his resolve begin to solidify, even though it felt like he was making the wrong choice.

“How do I get out of here?”

The shadow has no features except its eyes, but if Nanami could assign it an expression, it would have to be triumph.

“I’m so glad you asked.” It appraisingly looks at him, before continuing. “Perhaps you might want to let the lady know you’re alive.”

“Must I?” Nanami asks with a hint of exasperation.

The shadow looks amused but continues in an even tone. “I’m afraid I must insist. It's better to give people a warning when you’re coming back from the dead. Prepares them for the prospect of seeing you again. Trust me, it’s better that way.”

“And how do I do that?”

It merely continues to look at him with that amused expression and Nanami almost lets out a growl of frustration. “Listen. I died. Then I was told I wasn’t dead, but I’ll die soon. Then I changed my mind and decided I wanted to live. The least you can do is tell me how to get a message out of here.”

The purgatory being laughs; it’s an eerie noise, yet had all the comfort of a long-lost friend. “Very well 7:3 Sorcerer. It’s simple really. To send a message out of here, all you need to do is blend your cursed energy with the cursed energy of the person you’re thinking about going back to life for. Imbue this energy into a small object which will then find a way to its recipient.”

The elementary way this was said nearly cracks his temper. “Is that all?” He asks, unable to keep the bite of sarcasm out of his voice.

The shadow chuckles at this, adding to his ire. “It really is. Just try focusing on something other than your disappointment of not dying today.”

Nanami takes a deep breath and exhales through his nose trying to keep his composure. “A small object…” His hand grips the handle of his blade and pulls it out, eyeing it carefully. The whole blade wouldn’t make it. He just automatically knew it. But he wanted to make sure Y/n would recognize the message was from him. He fidgets with the blade, thinking, and then by accident, the edge of it comes in contact with the Aum charm.

The blend of energy that shoots through him was a shock; a mix of the warm coffee on Saturday mornings, coupled with the calculated preciseness of a seasoned Q-grader who assessed those coffee beans. The polka dots spattered all over the cloth wrapping the weapon glowed at the edges for a brief second before the blade lost contact with the charm.

Nanami observed the whole process with fascination. Dormant instinct took over him, and he moved his hand so that the charm now swung over the blade. Focusing on that combined energy signature, he purposefully touches the charm to the blade. Y/n’s neutralized curse energy flows into the blade, and he feels his own beginning to fuse with it. He concentrates on his ratio technique, and with a flash, all the polka dots lift off the blade, glowing with a pale sea foam green aura.

“Find her,” he whispers to the dots, and in a hazy glow, they vanish.

Nanami watches, as though in a daze, unable to believe what had just happened. He turns to look at the purgatory being.

“Message sent. Now, how do I get out of here?”

The shadow being had been looking at the spot where the polka dots had vanished. It swirls around and looks at him in the eyes.

“By facing your deepest regrets.”

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michelle-is-writing · 1 month

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Clothes Shopping, Spencer Reid

Word count: 1.6k~

I have never felt more award in a store. Looking around me, I find myself a bit weirded out by the store I'm currently in while waiting for Spencer. Mannequins dressed in fancy suits litter the male clothing store while shelves hold the same pairs of oxfords, each pair barely changing with the shades of black and brown they possess. The men at the front registers wear what the store advertises, and their posture is so straight and unchanging that they could be mannequins as well. When Spencer said he needed to shop for some new work clothes, this place wasn't exactly what came to mind.

"Spence, you almost finished?" I ask from behind the blue curtain of the changing stall. The clanking of a belt against the floor sounds through the dressing rooms before the constant thump of Spencer's jumping feet follows it. "Need any help?" I ask him with a smirk, gaining an odd and almost annoyed look from the worker at the changing room desk. These people are really stuck-up.

"I'm almost done, (Y/n)," I hear him say, his voice showing mild frustration. A little concerned, I pull back the curtain to see my husband having trouble getting his pants on, my eyes quickly catching the error in his ways.

"Spencer, honey," I state, walking into the small room with him and placing my hand on his shoulder. Spencer doesn't stop in his movements, however.

"It's okay, I got it," He assures me, making me smile and shake my head. I probably shouldn't be so amused at Spencer being so uncoordinated, but who wouldn't at least be a little tickled by their husband putting on his pants backward?

"Spencer, you really don't," I tell him, sliding my hands over his. He stops in his actions before looking up at me with pleading eyes. No matter what, he will never audibly ask for help, but the pitiful puppy eyes I get from him sells him out every time without fail.

"You kind of..." I begin, only to cover my mouth with a hand as I try to conceal my oncoming laughter. "You have them on backward," I quickly explain to him in a whisper, his eyes immediately shooting wide open before he turns in the mirror to see himself.

"Oh my God," He mutters, finally smiling in amusement. Turning back toward me, he sighs before looking down at the front of his pants that are technically the back. "That explains why this," He gestures to the middle seam line fighting for its life. "Felt weird."

Laughing again, I shake my head before handing him his original ones. "I think this is a sign," I note, gaining a quizzical look from Spencer as he begins to take off the pants.

"Why do you say that?" He asks, sliding the ugly pants off before putting on his original pair, meeting my eyes once he's pulling his zipper back up.

"Because these clothes," I start, gesturing to the area around me. "Are not you," I point out, earning a slight nod from Spencer. "You are sweater vests and black converse, not... tight-ass jackets with leather shoes that need more care than a small child."

He smiles at me before nodding in agreeance. "Rossi recommended the place," He explains, "I didn't say anything when we came in, but..." He leans in closer, beginning to whisper. "I hate everything I picked out."

Shaking my head, I stifle a laugh before gathering the unbought clothes together over my arm and hanging them up on the rack by the dressing room doorway. With Spencer back in his original clothes, we head out of the store, but not before gaining a few pointed glares from the mannequins at the front desk, of course. Hand in hand, we head across the mall to another clothing shop, one that I think will be better for us.

Last time I came here to the mall, I noticed the mannequins in the windows were wearing outfits that Spencer would wear - you know, clothes for a mid-century banker. Without hesitation, I went into the store and found a few things for him, to which I purchased and brought home. When I gave the sweaters to him, I didn't know if he liked them or not, but whenever I noticed he started to only wear the three jumpers I got him without switching back to the other ones he already owned, I knew he liked them.

"Go crazy," I tell him, gesturing to the men's clothes section. Watching as Spencer's eyes scan over the many shelves and racks of his type of clothing, I smile. "I'll be looking at the dresses," I inform him, pecking his cheek before heading over to the women's section.

A few minutes pass, leaving me to myself while Spencer fills his arms up with clothes he likes. I'm glad he's finding a lot of things he deems wearable and his style. He hasn't gone clothes shopping since he first joined the BAU, and even then, I was the one to find everything for him since most of it was from magazine catalogs sent through the mail. Now those clothes are so old and worn out that everything either has holes in them or the color has faded a few shades.

Only finding one dress and a pair of heels, I head back to the dressing rooms where Spencer's trying on his clothes. I knock on the wall beside his stall before pulling back the curtain and walking in. Spencer stands in the mirror, smiling proudly at himself and his new clothes. A dark brown wool coat sits on his shoulders while a black, soft-looking button-up lies beneath it followed by a matching pair of dark brown pants.

Turning toward me, he smiles with a light laugh that shows his happiness. His innocent smile is like that of a child's smile on Christmas. I guess finding clothes that he genuinely likes feels like a blessing to him, and for me, it truly is a blessing.

"Do you like it?" Spencer asks, making my smile turn into a grin. Walking forward, I adjust a few things before smoothing down the fabric of the blazer.

"I do," I tell him. "It looks very nice on you; it's sharp," Turning my eyes up to his, I furrow my eyebrows together. "This isn't all you found, right?" I ask him.

Turning toward to the chair beside the mirror, he points at the gigantic stack of clothes. "No, this just happens to be my favorite," He sheepishly admits, making me laugh. Kissing the handsome man, I rest my hand on his chest before looking back at the mirror.

"It looks nice on you," I repeat myself from earlier. "I hope you're getting it," I tell Spencer, his eyes going down to the dress over my arm as he nods.

"What did you find?" He asks. Smiling, I pull the dress from my arm and hold it up for him to see. "I like that," He notes. "You should try it on."

Agreeing with him, I begin to pull my shirt off as Spencer moves his news clothes onto his lap while sitting down in the armchair. Moving onto my pants, I unbutton my jeans and slide them down, giving Spencer a small show at the same time. Peering back at him, I see his eyes watching me intently while resting his chin on his hand.

"Enjoying the view?" I ask him with a smirk, his smile reappearing above his perched arm.

"I'll never stop loving my wife's amazing body," He answers proudly, making me blush. Four years of marriage, and he still manages to make me feel the same way I did when we were dating.

Pulling the dress over my head, I push it down the rest of my body and watch as it nicely conforms to my legs and waist. Grazing my hands over my clothed curves, I smile at my reflection in the mirror just as Spencer had done with his. The dress is long-sleeved and made of a black, silky material that clings and spans down to the space above my knee. The neckline is a little low too, showing the tops of my shoulders which makes it appear seductive, yet sweet. Sliding on the silver pumps only add to the seduction of the look, making me smile. It's not a bad look for me.

Turning my eyes to the new reflection behind me, I feel Spencer slide his arm around my waist before tugging me close to him. "You look..." He begins, his eyes lingering on his grasp on my hips in the mirror. "Absolutely gorgeous... and sexy."

Smiling even more now, I turn toward him fully and wrap my arms around his neck as he wraps his other arm around my waist to match the other. Looking back at the mirror with me, Spencer smiles. "We look like we're ready to jump back in time," he points out, making me giggle.

He's not too far off, we do look as if we're trying to recreate a picture of Marilyn Monroe and Marlon Brando, and I love it. What I don't love is the sweater that my eyes catch peeking out of Spencer's stack of clothes.

"Spence, honey, why'd you pick out a sweater with armadillos all over it?"

#spencer reid imagine #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagines #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid one shot #criminal minds fanfiction #dr spencer reid #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds oneshot #criminal minds imagines #criminal minds imagine

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wheeboo · 1 year

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insomniac | lee jihoon

SYNOPSIS. in which jihoon has trouble falling asleep. PAIRING. lee jihoon x gn!reader GENRE. fluff, hurt/comfort, established relationship WARNINGS. mentions of insomnia WORD COUNT. 1.2k

notes: just a random jihoon comfort drabble because he works so hard for us and deserves everything in the world <3

Jihoon can’t fall asleep.

It was nothing out of the ordinary for him, as he finds his days filled with exhausting schedules that easily wears him out, yet he spends his nights specifically to produce new music for the group. But as the rest of the world around him settled into deep slumber, Jihoon remained wide awake in those ungodly hours, fueled by nothing but the intensity of his creative passion.

He couldn’t tell if there was any reasoning behind it𑁋if there was a reason why his brain is so full of ideas that it can’t seem to just shut up and be quiet for once, so he feels the need to put it all down first until the wee hours of the night before having to force himself to sleep, which in itself doesn’t really do his body well.

The cycle had started over a month ago𑁋that’s what he told you at least𑁋but time seemed to lose all meaning when he was in the zone. The days blurred together, punctuated only by the occasional meeting or performance. Jihoon couldn't remember the last time he had a good night's rest. His mind resembled a galaxy of inspiration, and he was just a mere person trying to capture its brilliance in sound.

Jihoon finds himself staring at his computer in front of him, eyes dry and a bit heavy, yet his mind is completely awake. It’s around three in the morning and he’s probably gotten up once or twice in the last few hours. He knows himself that whatever he was doing was unhealthy; you nagged him about it just an hour ago, and now you were coming over.

His phone vibrates and he takes it in his hands, reading through your short text.

[my y/n 🤍] can you let me inside?

Jihoon’s heart twinges with guilt as he reads your message. He knows he should have listened to you and taken better care of himself, but the allure of his music and the pressure of his work had consumed him. He had become a slave to his insomnia, unable to break free from its grasp.

[my jihoon ❤️] door is unlocked. be careful

The moment he sends the text he hears some footsteps outside his door. He stands up from his chair, releasing a groan from the slight ache in his step, and heads his way to greet you.

Immediately once he opens the door, he frowns at how disheveled and tired you look when taking off your shoes, knowing that you made the effort to come to his studio for him. You carried a bag from what he presumes is food from the convenience store at your side. Gosh, what time did he last eat?

“You didn’t have to come here, Y/N.” Jihoon reaches a hand out to help steady you as you chuck your shoes off to the side.

“I had to, honey.” The term of endearment sends something through his heart. “I can’t stop thinking about you continuously pushing yourself these days. I miss having you at home.”

Before he could respond, you take his hand in yours and lead him to the couch, placing down the plastic bag on the table. Jihoon helps you unpack the contents inside. It was just two bowls of ramen and a pack of microwaveable rice.

“Here, I’ll warm this up for us. Just wait on the couch.” Jihoon takes lead and grabs the two bowls of ramen and rice, bringing it to the little kitchen area to the side and filling the bowls up with preprepared hot water.

You find yourself sprawled on top of the couch, watching your boyfriend quietly hum his way through the studio. Even though you were tired yourself, you made an objective to not fall asleep right on the spot. You wanted him to be with you. You wanted him to try and fall asleep with you, and maybe just maybe help him get some decent sleep even for one night.

And if you had to keep showing up to his studio to coax him out of work, then that’s what you were going to do. Nothing was going to stop you.

Once Jihoon finishes warming up the rice and letting the ramen cool down, he brings the food back to where you are and sits himself down on the couch right next to you.

The two of you eat in comfortable silence, though there was a bit of lingering tension in the air knowing that the elephant in the room had to be addressed at some point. For now you both just cherish the time together since a lot of Jihoon’s work had interfered the two of you from fbeing able to spend time with each other.

Once you finish eating, you glance over at him, pushing back some of his dark loose strands in his face behind his ear so that you could see his side-profile better. You see his lips curve up in small appreciation, but he can’t seem to get himself to make eye contact with you. The guilt coursing through him felt as if he was a bit more distant than usual.

“You know you deserve a break sometimes, right?” You ask him, watching him take in your words so heavily that it makes him momentarily pause.

Jihoon nods his head, a small sigh leaving his lips. “I know. But ever since we discussed our comeback preparations, I... I can’t help myself, you know? I need to make everything perfect.”

You listen to him carefully, taking in his words like the gentle melody he has the art in making. Jihoon had always been aware of the immense pressure on his shoulder over the years and it just now began to take an obvious toll on his health both mentally and physically.

“I just can’t rest knowing I have all these ideas, all these words for lyrics...” Jihoon scrunches his face up together, exhaling a deep breath. “But I do wish I can just sleep and rest.”

That’s when your face lights up just a bit. “That’s why I’m here. You’re going to take a rest with me, whether you like it or not.”

Jihoon peers at you as if you were crazy. “Y/N𑁋”

“Jihoon, honey, please rest with me. One night is all I ask for,” You practically beg him. “At least lay here with me until morning. I know your work is important to you, but... I miss you. I miss holding you and when you hold me.”

You stare at him with pleading eyes and Jihoon can never get himself to resist you. Though he has a lot of trouble expressing how he feels, he can never deny just how vulnerable and sensitive you make him sometimes. You always found the smallest ways to take care of him, even if it meant sacrificing yourself in a way. He’s always been grateful for that, and he knows that someday he will repay you. He has to.

Jihoon glances between you and his open computer in the background, finally letting his shoulders relax.

“Okay.” He stands up, motioning to his computer. “Let me just turn all this off and then I can hold you.”

You shake your head amusedly. “I’d rather hold you this time if that’s okay with you.”

Jihoon feels a smile creep on his face as he walks to turn off his computer and soundboard. He’s not against that idea either.

#seventeen imagines #seventeen fluff #seventeen angst #woozi fluff #lee jihoon fluff #woozi angst #lee jihoon angst #woozi x reader #jihoon x reader #lee jihoon x reader #seventeen x reader #seventeen #svt x reader #woozi imagines #svt fluff

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chrollohearttags · 1 year

Text

𝕽𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖇 • 𝕰. 𝕵𝖆𝖊𝖌𝖊𝖗 : chapter one

synopsis: for as long as he could remember, his life was music and his money, no time for anything else. The only love he had ever known was the studio. That was until one night, he met his greatest muse thus far.

cw: insta model/musician black !fem reader, a very antisocial engineer/musician eren (he’s seen as kind of an asshole but he’s really sweet) no hardcore smut for this portion! just some kissing, fondling and mentions of sex, alcohol and drugs, profanity of course, inappropriate behavior

wc: 6.4K

notes from the author 📝 : So I'm going to be turning one of my first stories I posted on here, Studio, into a full series. I’ve written a million drabbles for this so I’m finally finishing the actual first chapter. Don’t know how many parts it will have but fuck it, we ball.

“Yeah, I don’t care much for any of this..the whole club scene like that. Truth is, I rather be anywhere else but I gotta get my money and something tells me you would too..so, let’s make the best of it and get this bag together.”

next chapter

They say that music is the one thing that makes the world go around..that without it, life would be a mistake.

a lot of people can’t even function if they don’t have their favorite song blaring through the speakers on the way to work..or in their headphones while trying to manage the school day. Others couldn’t imagine a gym session without that one playlist to get them pumped.

and for one man…

“You can’t be serious right now.”

it was his entire life!

“What do you mean, bro? This shit gas!”

the brunette released a heavy winded sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. His glasses were hanging from his face as well. Anyone who knew him was quite familiar with that look and it wasn’t a good one.

another male with glistening chains, gold slugs and a black hoodie stood above him from the circulating chair. To say he had irritated his producer was an understatement but it wasn’t a rare occurrence in the slightest.

“Bro..we’ve been here for five hours..you show up late and then you bring me this? You’re just fucking with me, right?”

Eren Jaeger, or E.J..a name very respected and revered in the music industry. For as long as he could remember, music was his first and only love in his young life..if there was an instrument to be played, he not only sought out to learn it but master it as well.

if there was a song he liked, best believe he was going to end up inevitably out singing the artists themselves.

despite the fact that the career path wasn’t fully backed by his Ivy League, white coat wearing, scholar of a father, he was determined to turn that childhood passion into a very successful and lucrative dream.

working religiously to fine tune his playing skills, along with his voice. He practically resided in the chorus and band classroom; perfecting his craft in all areas..drums, guitar, horns, piano, whatever you could think of.

he became so obsessed in fact that it left little room in his life for extracurricular activities, including a lot of friends or dates.

writing lyrics during class, skipping lunch to go toy around in the library with his laptop create beats..he was a natural born prodigy. Fast forward to college, where he made the very easy choice to study music engineering and mastering…

it was one night while he was working at a shoe store to fund his education that his coworkers decided to record him singing and rapping (all free-styled by the way) while he was doing inventory as a joke. Little did they know, they had just propelled him right into stardom.

coupled with his good looks, sultry lyrics and popularity, everyone wanted their chance to work with him.

there was only one tiny problem..as much as Eren loved creating music, he despised the spotlight even more! How ironic, right? He had no desire whatsoever to be anyone’s next Bieber or Post Malone.

that fame shit was good and dead to him. He truly believed there was no point in making his art to keep up with trends and other artists if your heart wasn’t in it. Not only that, the attention was insufferable.

they were more concerned with if he had a girlfriend, what he looked like or who he was fucking. His talent was on the back burner and it frustrated the hell out of him.

it was the very reason he didn’t respect a lot of today’s musicians. A lot of them weren’t even true or authentic to themselves and fed into that bullshit. That’s why he chose to stay behind the scenes.

it was easier to focus on what he loved rather than the stupidity. Shame it couldn’t allude him entirely because he was left with instances such as today. Grabbing a nearby water bottle, the visibly frustrated brunette unscrewed the cap and chugged the clear liquid down halfway.

at this point, he had heard all that was necessary. It was back to the drawing board because no way he was about to co-sign or engineer this bullshit.

“You’re just not seeing the vision, bro. Trust me on this.”

“I’m seeing something and it’s my patience wearing thin. Twenty four hours…that’s all you have to come back with some heat like I know you got. You’re better than this, man. If you don’t tighten up, you can forget me working on this goddamn album. I’m not even playing with you.”

the rapper knew not to test his luck any further. Friend or not, he wasn’t going to waste anymore of his precious time. Releasing a heavy huff, he’d hop up from his seat and grab his phone.

it didn’t come from a place of malice or hatred but Eren did have the tendency to come off a bit harsh. He didn’t mean anything by it, it’s just how he was and everyone had learned to deal with it.

he was the type of person that accepted nothing less than greatness from his artists so if he deemed it lazy or lackluster, his stamp would not be on it.

besides, he still had three other artists to see today and he didn’t have anymore time to waste on listening to this man let the beat whoop his ass for four tracks straight.

“Same time tomorrow then, man?”

“That depends on you. You bring me a hot pack of ass like this and you’ll be standing outside the door. Now goodbye.”

with that, he’d take his leave, security tailing behind him and a scowl on his face. Left shaking his head, Eren just released a heavy sigh before looking down at his mixing board.

"..does anybody take this business seriously anymore?"

just then, he was interrupted by the ringing of the phone. It was his agent..or rather the one who ran the show. Hesitant and just not in the mood to deal with this, he’d release a deep sigh and say a silent prayer before answering.

“Jesus, you look like shit. When’s the last time you’ve slept?”

and it seemed his prayers weren’t effective enough because he was seconds from snapping. The first words from the snarky woman’s mouth like daggers to his soul.

“Well good afternoon to you too, Mikasa.”

the two of them had been friends for quite some time and even the center of some weird dating rumors but for anyone that knew the duo, it was the furthest thing from.

despite him not making many records in the past few years, Eren still DJ’ed and promoted, as well as performed at some clubs, in addition to engineering and producing..so naturally someone had to arrange these happenings as a middle man.

but, being him, he could never make anything easy and was labeled like that of a diva. Hard to work with and always turning down things that didn’t appease him. Which naturally made her job a whole lot harder..

she was just the only one who refused to tolerate his bullshit!

“Don’t good afternoon me. I’ve been trying to track your ass down for two days and to no avail, of course you’re holed up in that damned studio like a hermit.”

he could hear what she was saying but in all honestly, he didn’t care. More than likely, she wanted him to go and DJ at some stuffy lounge riddled with coked up college kids and aspiring models who eat Xanax for breakfast.

totally not his speed.

nonetheless, he’d lean back in his chair, nonchalantly chewing on the end of a toothpick as he listened to her ramble.

it was obvious that nothing was getting through to that thick numbskull of his.

“And? I’m working. You’d know that if you were a good agent.”

just then, the short haired woman broke into a chuckle, clutching the steering wheel of her S Class Mercedes. And something told him it wasn’t because he said something funny.

“Don’t piss me off more than you already have. Listen, I have a job for you tonight..the new club that just opened up downtown. They need another promoter to help host and I told them you’d be perfect.”

that seemed to have piqued his interest but not because he was excited or anything but because it was the last thing he wanted to do.

“Another?”

unfortunately, he didn’t have much of a choice!

“Yes, the IG model and dancer, (y/n) (l/n) she’s also going to be there tonight. Girl’s a pretty big deal and apparently, she brought out a lot of people.”

he was somewhat familiar with the name but he despised social media as much as he despised hosting. Besides, if he’s seen one, he’s seen them all: shallow, vain, Barbie types with nothing more than a BBL and vibes.

it wasn’t so much the looks that bothered him because they were absolutely beautiful but it seemed as if the whole industry was opportunistic and weird at this point. Everyone looking for a come up and a moment without true work..

“What the hell, Mika? You know I hate that shit. And I have two other recording sessions—

“Not anymore! My job is to get you paid and let’s be honest, the last two artists you produced for weren’t exactly cash cows. How long do you think this whole mysterious antisocial act is going to last? Sad to say, but your time is dwindling, my guy.”

just then, he’d roll his eyes emerald green eyes and just shrug it off but for once, he wasn’t about to pout and whine his way out of this..she was right.

EJ was one of the most popular artists in the world and although he had a pretty loyal fanbase, a lot of them were growing impatient and with new stars being made every three to five business days, people who were true to their craft no longer felt as if they had a place and people no longer reserved patience for artists taking years at a time to put out projects..

and she didn’t want him to be one of them! He belonged here just like everyone else but he had to show up sometimes!

releasing a sigh of her own, Mikasa just shook her head and hoped that he’d listen for once.

“We all have things we don’t want to do but I’m asking for once, stop being so goddamned selfish and only thinking of what Eren wants. There’s a world beyond your own little bubble and a lot of people are dependent on you. We’ll both get a good cut from this so I’m begging you not to screw this up.”

as much as this pained him, he did owe her this much for putting up with his erratic behavior. Besides, he’s put up with far worse in the past!

reaching into the pockets of his black Nike Techs, he’d retrieve two items: a pre-rolled blunt and a black lighter with his initials inscribed on it in gold. If they wanted him to interact with the outside world, he had to calm his nerves first!

“Alright, alright!..I’ll be there, damn..”

getting irritated with her voice and this entire conversation and honestly, the feeling was mutual.

“Let me find out you didn’t show up, I’ll kick down the door to that little hobbit hole of yours and break everything in my sight. Got it?”

and one thing he knew not to do was doubt that she would be capable of such a thing! He’d assure her that he’d be there..

“Loud and clear, drill sergeant.”

“Good boy. I don’t want to have to have this conversation again."

and with that, she’d disconnect the other line.

it was safe to say, he wasn’t thrilled about any of this but maybe stepping outside of his comfort zone would be good..maybe. But only time would tell!

•••••••••

meanwhile, on another side of the city, there was someone else dealing with the exact dilemma as the introverted engineer..

"So when we finish here, the car should be arriving shortly after..we’ll get you over to the club, let you do a walkthrough, get you changed and then you know what to do from there.”

the voice of a wiry and vivacious woman sprouted off the itinerary without so much as a second thought, scrolling through her iPad with the tap of a finger. Wired frame glasses dangling from the bridge of her button nose and her blonde locks styled into that of a high bun.

she was the hardworking assistant and right hand to upcoming model, influencer and dancer, (Y/N) (L/N) or (social media name) to her followers.

over the past couple of years, the esteemed exotic dancer amassed quite the following by posting videos of yourself dancing to several popular songs, even performing live with a ton of artists on stage.

you were the leader of a country wide collective of other dancers known as the Pole Assassins, who performed incredible routines. You gained quite the notoriety and in no time flat, you rose to instant stardom as social media’s newest vixen.

it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing but it was quite the culture shock for the twenty something instructor who was just sharing your art with the world, only to now be thrust into a life of crazy living and insane work.

to having tons of strangers hurl wild opinions and insults in your direction unprovoked. Not to mention the millions of prying eyes on your every move..it was insane!

if you weren’t modeling and being sponsored for the newest fast fashion brand or some newfound tea company hoping to hook buyers on their repackaged laxatives, you were attending parties at some nightclub; hosting and hyping the crowd for whatever performer was headlining.

tonight would be no different..except maybe one thing.

“Yeah, I got it. Thank you, honey. By the way, do you know who this other host is?”

the woman, sitting cross legged whilst various people patted at her face with makeup brushes and sponges. You looked flawless already but they had to ensure that every part you was nothing less than perfection.

normally, you worked solo to make these events as lively as possible but the person you were set to work with was apparently a pretty big deal. A huge name in the music world was making a rare appearance tonight at this new grand opening.

“You haven’t heard? It’s Eren Jaeger, EJ, the singer..well he’s more of a producer now. He’s actually gonna be DJ’ing and performing tonight!”

that’s when your eyes nearly popped from yourhead. Now that was a name you hadn’t heard in a long time but it wasn’t due to him being washed up or outdated, he was just such an enigma in the music world now.

akin to something like a Frank Ocean or SZA..keeping fans sitting on the edge of their seats, wondering when he’d drop his next project.

his voice was beautiful, nearly enchanting and you had even used a couple of his pieces in some of your videos, dancing along to the slow, seductive sounds of the melodies. On the same hand, he made some of the hardest rap tracks you’d ever heard. And yet, for someone who made such music and as attractive as he was, he preferred to stay out of the limelight.

it seemed almost counterproductive but you also understood.

in the not so distant past, you saw horror stories of grown women grabbing at his privates on stage when he was only eighteen, girls sending him inappropriate pictures and just being weird.

watch one interview and even a blind man could tell it made him uncomfortable. The whole sex symbol allure wasn’t his thing.

in some ways, you resonated with him. You knew all too well what it felt like having your true craft pushed to the wayside all so people could create their own narratives. Rather than being recognized for the years of hard work and dedication it took to master the art of pole..you were now seen as nothing more than a cookie cutter Insta model with a pretty face and no substance.

some days, you felt like tossing that damn phone in the ocean and never looking back!

regardless, even though you didn’t know him personally, it was an honor to be in the presence of a musical great.

“I’m shocked they could even afford to bring someone like him out. That’s a huge name.”

“Yeah, well you’d be surprised. I seriously doubt it was something he was thrilled to do but we’ll see.”

(Y/N) mirrored his sentiment honestly but work was work and they had to do whatever necessary to pay the bills. As for you, you’d down a couple shots of liquid courage, throw on a tight body con dress, highest heels and work the crowd as per usual.

you just hoped that your co-host wasn’t a jerk as the rumors claimed.

later that evening…

night had fallen cast over the city's skyline and the party was merely at its inception. Guests were lining up near the entrance, lined up and ready to get inside to rub elbows with their favorite celebrities. All dressed up and at their best.

however, they weren’t the only ones..

a blacked out Audi R8 had just circled around the side entrance and killed its engine. The matte lights went dim and suddenly the passenger side door opened. Bystanders whispered in speculation as to who was inside but their minds would not be left to wander much longer.

followed by sounds ‘oohs’ and ‘oh my gosh’s’, out stepped a man in clothing resembling that of his car; all black with the exception of some silver chains, rings and studs in his ears. Combat type boots and cargos with a cut off black shirt showing off his numerous tattoos, along with a vest type harness. (inspo)

but it was the signature brown hair styled into a half up-half down bun that gave away his identity and it took no time for the fans to react. Screaming women of every variety began trying to surpass the barricade to get to him but were held back by bouncers and he was shielded by his security, who were eager to handle anyone approaching him, as he gave a swift wave.

underneath his black mask, Eren would muster up a faint smile and try to be as social as possible..all while praying that he’d get through this night quickly. His emerald green eyes were already glazed over from the blunt he had finished before leaving home and trust that it was much needed.

he was more than ready for this to be over with so he’d make his way through the side door and into the lounge where he was greeted by his agent and the energetic owner.

“There he isss, the man of the hour. It’s really an honor, EJ. Thank you again for this! You have no idea how much it means..”

the high pitched voice and effervescent personality belonged to Zoe Hange, a very affluent and well known promoter who owned many successful clubs and lounges all over the country. To have such big stars on opening night was a testament to their work.

gratefulness aside, he wanted to go home but before he’d end up saying something stupid, Mikasa would interject and cover for him.

“Likewise. We’re very happy that you reached out. We’re looking forward to it, aren’t we?” Shooting the musician a stern glare to assure he answered correctly. “For sure.” responding flatly. However, what would follow later would shift his mood entirely.

the vibrant owner, sporting their red and black pantsuit would exclaim, clasping their hands together. “Ahh, wonderful! As you can see, our stage is just to your left and I’m sure I don’t have to tell you what to do. Just make magic up there, my dear. As for your co-host, she should be arriving shortly and we can get this thing started!”

his patience and social battery was already wearing thin so he hoped for this host’s sake that she didn’t disappoint either. That's when the momentary silence was interrupted by the sound of clacking heels.

"Hi, everyone. Hope I'm not late.." the soft voice spoke out, causing everyone in the room to shift their heads towards the right side. In came a woman wearing a short white dress, cut off just above the knees, tall clear heels and thirty inches of jet black hair flowing to her thin waist. Beautiful dark skin and nearly flawless makeup…the type of girl that turned heads when she walked in.

to say she was stunning was an understatement...and Eren could hardly keep his eyes off of her; definitely a first for the less than friendly performer. It took a lot to get his attention. "Not at all, actually you're just on time. Please join us."

Zoe would declare, waving a hand to bring the woman over. "This is (y/n) (l/n) or as some of you may know her, (social media handle). She’ll be working with us tonight as well. I’m sure between the both of you, it’ll be one hell of a show. Just give my new baby a proper welcoming party.”

“She is also my newest client and I’m very excited to have her on board. Thank you again for doing this on such short notice..” Mikasa chimed in as she swooped in to wrap you up for a tight hug. “I wish all my talent were as cooperative and flexible as you..” shooting the ever so silent singer a glare, to which he’d scoff.

but when you looked in his direction, his eyes shifted a bit and his cheeks raised from underneath that face covering before he turned his head. Inside, you were fangirling and freaking out. But you knew how reserved he was, not to mention his already annoyed expression..so you didn’t want to come off as a clout chasing groupie.

one thing you had noticed was how much more toned and muscular he had gotten since his hiatus. This man was swole to say the least!

as much as it pained him, he was still a professional about the whole thing. He realized there was no point in taking out his frustrations on the girl just trying to do her job as well. That and the fact he was taken aback by how stunning you were. He may have been a recluse but he was still a man nonetheless.

“..I just wanted to say that I’m a huge fan. So it’s really an honor. The Living Dead Boy mixtape is one of my all time favorites.” Truth be told, he didn’t know how to take your compliment because he wasn’t expecting that. Not for such a pretty girl such as yourself to even know his music. And considering that was one of his more underground projects..that was impressive! Now here he was blushing like a damn fool.

“I—uh..thank you. Well I guess I should go get set up. See you in a little bit. " bidding you all adieu before walking off towards the backstage area. You would've liked to think that you greeted him kindly but it seemed that he was no more impressed by you than he was anyone else.

"Don't worry too much about him. He just takes some getting used to, that's all. Deep down, he's really a sweetheart..when he wants to be that is.." Mikasa would reassure, flashing you a warming smile. Maybe so but you had no time to worry about personal feelings or ego, as the club doors were set to open any minute.

you’d make your way to the backstage as well, making any last minute touch ups to your makeup. You had about ten minutes before you’d be summoned so in that time, while you were getting your face patted, (y/n) thought silently to yourself about how things would go. What if this man really didn’t like you and things went south? The last thing you wanted was the gig to be unsuccessful. Suddenly, a stage tech would come and whisper for you, signaling that your cue was in about ten minutes or so. Sounds of music coming from the front, signaling that the club was officially opened for business.

things would undeniably be different as you’d have to command the crowd for the entire night and keep them entertained. Most of the time, you were more so of a side attraction to whoever was performing so it was time to break out of your own shell and really come into your own tonight.

now..it was time to go to work!

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two hours later..

══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿════✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°

“Everybody having a good time tonight?!”

the voice echoing throughout the nightclub, courtesy of a microphone held by the one and only (y/n) (l/n) aka (social media name). Met back with loud cheering and applause. So far, everything was going exactly as planned. All the patrons having a good time, lots of energy, wonderful music and just an all around good vibe.

which was wonderful news for the owner, Ms. Hange, who was thrilled to see that another one of her clubs launched off with such success. She had obviously made the right call hiring the best talent agent in the country. As for you, you were thrilled that you were able to make this party as live as possible. But little did they know that it was only starting..

“Club Lapis, y’all been so good to me tonight. Showing me so much love and popping out. I see a couple of familiar faces from Instagram..hey girl!” which was true because once you posted the club flyer to your Instagram, a decent chuck of your almost one million followers tapped in that were in the area. There were a few gorgeous women that you followed as well who decided to show up off of your namesake alone. Obviously, holding more weight than you expected but influencers were the new idols, some would say. You had been snapping pictures, taking videos and singing along and dancing with a lot of people. They were amped and now, it was time to give them the real main event.

“So, because y’all been so good to me…I got a lil’ something I wanna do for y’all. A surprise for everybody..” some were already privy to what, or who rather was waiting but for those who didn’t, you’d give one hell of an introduction! “I was talking with this person backstage and they said they were a little nervous to be here tonight..and I’m thinking to myself, ‘the only one nervous is me. I’m in the presence of greatness..and a good looking ass man’.” Everybody cracking up at your little jokes because you were always naturally funny without trying, which was also part of your allure; something a lot of these insta models didn’t have. “Baby in the front here losing her mind, trust me, girl..I understand now.” One of which who was spotted earlier yelling for him as he walked in.

it was true..you had the honor of actually having a conversation with him prior to this and Ms. Ackerman was right..he was incredibly sweet once you got the chance to talk to him. That and the fact he was higher than giraffe pussy so he wasn’t as irritated and nervous as before! Regardless, he was so kind and even thanked you for hosting with him. Despite his personal feelings about these sort of things, he was a professional and knew he had to do a good job for not only his sake but yours as well. Besides, he really did thrive when performing. So you’d do the best job possible, hyping him to the crowd..

“Not that he needs an introduction..’cause he been popping his shit longer than I’ve been around. And for all my followers, y’all already know how I feel about this man and his music. We’ve been lucky enough to get him to come out for us tonight so y’all better make some fucking noise and show all the love for The Prince of Trap and B himself..the Underground’s Greatest…”

as you were in the middle of doting and giving your speech, the people would start going crazy. Girls in full blown tears, people screaming and jumping around..that’s when you’d look back to see the legend Eren Jaeger himself walking up behind you, brandishing a microphone and a smile on his face. He’s as charming and handsome as ever. “Well damn..don’t I feel special?” That ever so smooth voice ending shivers up your spine.

and it doesn’t help when he places his hand around your waist and look down at you. He really is every bit of the flirt his persona portrays..

“Miss (y/n), you keep talking about me like that and imma start blushing and shit..”

muttering into his mic as he cradled his palm around your waist. He better had stopped before he caused a problem he wasn’t ready for! The scent of his cologne wafting through your nostrils, his warmth against your body..you had met a million rappers, chopped it up with the industry’s biggest but something about this man felt so familiar and..comforting. Like the two of you could be friends. He didn’t treat you like a stranger or act all irritable like before. So you’d use it to play up the moment.

“I mean, I gotta let the people know..brag on you for a minute, boo.”

“Well, I ain’t mad about it, baby. But I guess I should give everybody what they came here for, right?”

his rhetorical question being met with a loud response from everywhere.

now, anyone who didn’t know any better would’ve sworn that you guys had not only known each other for years but had a little something on the low. That wasn’t the case, even in the slightest. Honestly, with you, it felt natural and you just worked well together.

Outside of the little exchange backstage of how things would go and the two of you properly introducing yourselves, there wasn’t much else to indicate that he was cool with you but such was life and industry politics. People played pretend all the time for a check..something you learned fairly on.

however, something he said to you did stick as he noticed you fidgeting with one of your brushes, a sure sign of your anxiety about being a lead host tonight.

you were appreciative of his kind words and assurance that you weren’t alone in this. It was going to be fine as long as the two of you had fun. He even offered you a hit of his blunt to calm your nerves.

but either way, now, it was his turn to take over!

“Then I’ll just step over here to the side and let you handle your business—“ but as you were walking off the stage, he’d flash you a smile and wink. “Y’all give it up for the ever so lovely…and beautiful (y/n). She really has done a great job tonight.” Sending your heart fluttering and butterflies all throughout your stomach. Why was this man playing so much?! Nonetheless, you were flattered all the same and you’d blow a kiss to him; watching your hips sway as you walked off the stage.

the energy and chemistry between you two was insane and the crowd absolutely loved it! Because y’all were enjoying yourselves, so was everyone else and that’s what mattered!

considering you were just as big of a fan as everyone else, you were excited to watch him perform. Taking a glance back at his DJ, they’d have a little exchange and he’d really start to blossom; like the stage was where he came to life and nothing else mattered except the music. “Play that shit.” As soon as he gave the signal and that track dropped, the whole place went crazy! It was one of his most popular songs, 1st Degree, and most energetic. It was a trap song and you had heard it played everywhere when it first came out. In a matter of minutes, he’s hopping around in stage and going off. The crowd singing it louder than he was at some point.

pointing the mic out to them, they’d scream his lyrics back at him in intervals and he’d just laugh because seeing a bunch of bad bitches yell about gun violence and drugs was so funny. Including (y/n)..he couldn’t believe everyone still fucked with him this heavily. By the time, he finished, Eren would be met with loud screams and chants. Laughing, he’d cup his microphone and move across the stage, engaging with everyone.

“DJ, did you hear that? They were going harder than me!..what the fuck?”

to say he was impressed, was an understatement. He had never imagined that after all these years, he still had this kind of impact. Some people would try and downplay or talk shit about the fact that he was in a venue like this but for someone who was over the pressures of performing, this felt much more intimate.

he’d rather have a hundred loyal fans than thousands of people pretending to know his lyrics and stand there with their phones out. Right now, he was really feeling himself and although you had just met, as a long time fan, you were happy for him. Happy that he was so well received by the audience and not being made uncomfortable. This really was his element.

the show would go on and he’d do a few more songs, this time some of the ones where he was singing, which you personally preferred. This man’s voice was something serious…many of times had you constructed pole routine to his sensual lyrics. However, that’s when he done something a tad bit unexpected.. “Alright, so for this last song..we’re about to get a little sexy. On that demon time, as they say..”

everyone immediately laughing and knowing exactly what track he was referring to…the one that had women going crazy for months and men using it to spit game. It was the first time he had ever made a love song and needless to say, the internet went stupid. It was so freaky that the blog sites were talking shit. That’s when he knew he had a hit on his hands..

suddenly, the lights would dim and the entire vibe would change.

“Club Lapis, I’m in such a good mood tonight. I ain’t gone lie to y’all, I was a little nervous to come here, but I feel the love…so I’m gonna do a little something special. I feel like serenading somebody’s daughter.”

the entire place erupted in screams and women pointing to be chosen. “A couple of you are here with your man, I don’t want no problems tonight.” But Eren had already clearly had his mind on one person in particular..and it was no question. Flashing a big toothy smile, he’d direct his attention over towards the right before singling his sights on the far corner.

“Miss (y/n)..if you’d do me the honor of bringing your fine ass back up to the stage, please..”

‘oohs’ and ‘aah’s’ sparking immediately after. Your cheeks began to burn something fierce…Eren fucking Jaeger was up on stage, flirting with you! This did not feel real whatsoever. Regardless, you made your way back up there. You’d look over to see people breaking their thumbs, sending out a plethora of tweets.

climbing the steps, he’d assist you with an extended hand. Right there underneath the beaming spotlights, the two of you would lightly clutch fingers as he stood there, smiling. Seeing him up close was like a dream. The fantasy of many fangirls who’d fawned over him since his debut and here you were getting the first hand experience. Those piercing green eyes glaring right into your own and sending your heart racing.

finally, the instrumental would begin to play and Eren began to belt out the tune. As per, he sounded amazing; those lyrics making things just that much better..talking about fucking until the bed broke, making movies and making her wet. Whoever the inspiration was behind that song was one lucky ass bitch! Pining over to the crowd, he’d let the lovely bunch of ladies huddled at the front of the stage mimic the song back to him before taking over the next verse and just for the occasion, he had slightly altered the words.

“Know I said that I can’t stay with you, no I can’t make you my wife but (y/n), if you let me in it, I swear I’ll change your life.”

crooning before running his finger underneath your chin.

sending the crowd into a frenzy. Mainly because everyone could see how fast you were folding on that stage, after having been so poised and professional all night! One thing stood true; he may not have been that way in real life, but EJ the stage persona was a whole slut and a half! No wonder the podcaster bitch boys talked so much about him. He had their dream girls about to faint.

once the song reached its conclusion, you didn’t know what to do with yourself. But he knew he better had booked it to the back before somebody’s hormonal girlfriend rushed the stage.

“Thank you Club Lapis, goodnight!”

leaving to a loud chant of his name, thunderous claps and cheers. Ending on a high note if he had to say so himself. Right now, he was on a cloud that he didn’t want to come down from and he had the perfect way to remain there.

meanwhile, (y/n) would address the audience once more, thanking them for such a wonderful evening, being so nice to both of them, to be safe and enjoy the rest of their night here. Once that was done and the DJ proceeded to resume his regular track list, you were since again stopped by fans and patrons alike, asking for pictures and saying how jealous they were that you were being sang to like that.

trust, it wasn’t something that you were expecting either but you played your role well. Now it was time to relax with a few drinks.

Ms. Hange had took the liberty of reserving VIP for the two of you once the show ended to unwind with complimentary and unlimited bottle service. You weren’t a heavy drinker by any means but why not take advantage?

honestly, once the adrenaline of the moment wore off, you grew fatigued. All of the stimulation of the loud noises and screaming people was a bit much. However, you had to fulfill your obligations.

ten minutes or so passed and it seemed that you’d be unwinding on your own..that was until you heard a familiar voice. “So this is where my beautiful co-host ran off to..”

it was the star himself and he seemed to be sporting a new outfit.. still all black with those silver chains dangling around his neck. He looked good, which was no surprise. As he kneeled to sit down, he’d scoop you in a tight hug in one fell swoop. At this point, there was no question of what his feelings were towards you. He could’ve easily dipped and had his security get him up out of here but he stayed.

“God, you sounded amazing up there! I never thought I’d get to hear the great EJ The Don in person.” Blushing at the mention of just one of his many stage names, that one being more so his producer tag. Truthfully, he just went up there and done what he enjoyed the most..sharing his music with the world.

as he took a seat next to you, he’d pour up a glass of vodka, matching your own. Casually shrugging his shoulders, he’d swirl it around a bit before knocking back a sip. “Just doing my job, that’s all. I gotta say, you did your thing too. Told you, you’d be fine.” Being reaffirmed by someone so iconic was the highest of compliments.

“I’d say you did more than that. I ain’t mad though.” Smirking in his direction before drinking from your own glass and giving him a side eye. It seemed that he was comfortable enough for you two make jokes and honestly, he had never felt that way about anyone, less known someone he had only met. Maybe it was the courage of being crossfaded but Eren truly felt at ease around you for some reason.

and you mirrored that sentiment. It wasn’t uncommon for these gigs to go left when some artist decided to get too handsy or be disrespectful of your boundaries but that wasn’t the case here. He was so sweet and down to earth.

“Aye, you said let’s entertain them so that’s what I did. Besides, you standing up there, looking all cute and shit..I couldn’t help it.” Before long, the pair was laughing and giggling, chopping it up as if no one else was around. The flirtatious tension was getting out of hand!

“You mind if I scoot a little closer, miss (y/n)? I don’t want to get in your personal space.”

“Go right ahead.” eventually letting him drape his arm around the back of the couch and move a couple inches towards you. Being all cozied up to a superstar like him was surreal and people would most certainly have their fair share of opinions and commentary, you were certain.

nonetheless, the evening continued on as normal. The two of you talking as if you’ve known each other for a long time. Rather than bore you with stories of how he got his start that could be found with a simple YouTube search of his interviews, he wanted to hear your background. He only knew of you through social media circulation but he figured there had to be more to the illustrious (social media name).

“So I gotta ask..how in the hell did you manage to get tangled up with mad woman Mikasa and let her talk to you into this?”

when you began to gain a little more notoriety, it was only natural to get an agent to help capitalize on this newfound fame and get the real money coming in. She didn’t have her reputation for nothing..Ms. Ackerman worked harder than the devil himself and she didn’t hesitate to take care of you so when she decided to team you two you up, little did they know just how much of a genius she was.

so that’s when you told him about your journey through learning pole, going on tour with a bunch of different artists and serving as a backup dancer. It was a lot of fun but outside of work, you never made it your business to be chummy with your cohorts. You done the job you are paid for and then went on about your business. It was lonely but for the best, considering how weird some folks moved.

and Eren felt the same. He didn’t have many friends in this industry. Hell, it was almost ironic because the fans adored him but a lot of fellow artists didn’t really have much to say about him as a person. Sure, they respected his craft but he didn’t make it his mission to get close to anyone..until now.

you definitely had his interest piqued, to say the least! Having a conversation with (y/n) was somewhat refreshing. You weren’t another groupie trying to play in his face or look for a come up. You didn’t treat him like you were trying to kiss his ass or anyone else’s..it was just a normal vibe and one he hadn’t shared with someone in a long time..so much so, that you had this man laughing and smiling like a fool. Maybe this whole gig wasn’t a bad idea!

“Wait a minute, you’re friends with Jean Kirschtein? I danced at one of his shows in Chicago last year.”

“Friends is a strong word, I prefer pain in the ass. No offense, but dude gets on my fucking nerves.”

the bold statement sending you doubling over in laughter. Not because you didn’t like the rock singer, he was actually very nice but the fact that he was just spilling all types of tea to you as if you guys were best friends! That’s when he explained that they were signed to the same label for a while and that he was actually engaged to his best friend and manager, Mikasa. Literally the only reason he tolerated him.

“Well damn. Can’t say I blame you..some people in this business will turn you against it real fast. Of course, I’m sure you’re the last person I have to tell that, but then there’s others who are…really sweet.”

swirling your fingertip around the perimeter of your glass as you shot him a glare, as well as a warm smile. One that made his cheeks immediately glow red, even under the fluorescent lighting. It was adorable..

scooting a bit closer, he’d glare down at your smaller frame and curl his tongue across his top row of teeth. This man was dangerously handsome that it made no sense whatsoever! “I agree..it’s not so bad all the time.” For a moment, you two were locked in an intense gaze; one that wasn’t typical of complete strangers but here you were!

suddenly, the eye contact was broken when he’d turn his head to the side and whisper something to you. “I think they’re staring at us..” referring to the group of girls pointing with their cellphones out, jumping up and down as if they were a couple of TMZ reporters getting the latest scoop.

this was the sole reason he despised being out in public, because this is what it always resulted in. Cue the hundreds of messages from nosy ass bloggers and messy people trying to get in his business but tonight? He was in a bit of a mood to match their energy and hopefully shoot his shot! Luckily, you were on the same type time he was..

“I think they are..wonder what they’re up to?..” questioning rhetorically with the coyest smirk on your face. It was insane how equally yoked you both were in just this short amount of time. But he had an idea that would really have them going crazy.

“You thinking what I’m thinking, miss (y/n)?” and it went without saying that you most certainly were. This liquor and weed had the two of you playing a very dangerous game but what was the worst that could happen? Hell, blow up the internet for all of twenty four hours before they fixated on something else? He needed a little excitement in his life..had been a while since he caused some controversy!

giving him a nod, you’d shift in your seat to stare right at one another. The chemistry was undeniable and as someone who was in a position that half the bitches here would murder for..you didn’t turn down the opportunity! Leaning over, Eren nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck; his breath causing the minuscule hairs to rise on your skin.

his right hand resting gently on your thigh but not moving too far up to where you’d be uncomfortable and proceeded to pretend he was kissing you. “Just play along..let’s give their asses something to talk about.”

breaking into a toothy smile, (y/n) shook your head and bit your lip at the feeling of this man’s hands on you for the second time tonight. “Mr. Jaeger, you are something else, you know that?” But like clockwork, flashes would begin to flicker from every iPhone in the vicinity. Even hearing a few people muttering..you most certainly had never experienced anything like this before!

“I’ve heard worse said about me..”

the last thing you needed was for everyone to spin the rumor mill that you were fucking rappers now but honestly, you wouldn’t know how to act if he really did kiss you, less known done anything else. But somehow, you didn’t care..you were really enjoying yourself. And honestly, didn’t want this night to come to an end. So your ever so charming cohort would make another suggestion..

“Y’know, I’m a little over all this and if I’m not mistaken, we’ve fulfilled our obligation for the night. So if you don’t have any plans, how ‘bout we go chill somewhere else? That’s if..I’m not being too forward or nothing..”

offering as he stood to his feet, stretching out his muscles before extending his hand yet again.

normally, you’d decline with the quickness and say you were tired but something told you, you’d be missing out on a good time if you did. And that he’d be super disappointed as well. So, you done exactly what you felt was right…

“Not at all..”

accepting his grasp, he’d help you to stand and keep your footing; continuing the theme of being an absolute gentleman. Time to keep the party going in a much more private manner.

“You just lead the way..”

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if you made it this far, thank you so much for reading! please check out some of my other stuff in the masterlist. Likes are appreciated but reblogs would mean the world and help me out a TON! Also, considering leaving a little something in the tip jar if you’re feeling extra generous! 🫶🏾

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tag list: @vixxennxx @bisexualfenty @whorrorifics @potofstewie @daisynik7 @hoohoohope @chickenwingsandfries3425

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russellsppttemplates · 3 months

Text

Time off the track (Lance Stroll)

Lance and Y/N enjoy having a long weekend off

Note: english is not my first language. I get all fluttery when I write these pieces! Had some trouble finding friends names (they're very private, and I respect that) so I just made up my own.

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: mentions pregnancy

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog

"Sweetheart", Lance called from his spot on the sofa once he heard you arrive back home from work. "In a minute, just need to take these things off my feet", he heard you chuckle before the small creek from the cabinet where you stored your shoes.

"I'm here!", you walked inside, Lance's eyes doing his overall check-up. He didn't notice he was doing it until Henry pointed it out for him in the last race weekend you went to, but apparently the minute you showed up after being somewhere out of his sight, your husband's eyes checked you out from head to toe, looking for any signs of discomfort and then focusing on your babybump, usually bringing a smile to his lips.

"Sit here, I want a cuddle while I tell you my suggestion", he opened his arms, letting you wiggle around and into a comfortable position.

"Oh, what suggestion?", you wondered after you pecked his lips.

"The guys want to have spend the next weekend doing something fun together. It's a long weekend and it would nice spending time together", he explained, hand coming up to your bump and rubbing the skin under the cotton fabric of your shirt.

"That sounds good, actually. A weekend away that doesn't involve racing", you mumbled.

"There's actually a race, still. They want to go to Texas and watch", Lance offered, not wanting to keep you in the dark.

"What I meant was you wouldn't be racing, so we will be travelling all together and I have you to myself still", you wiggled your eyebrows, "and Texas is a really good idea, me and baby have been craving BBQ", you smirked.

"Other than seeing the race, we can just explore the area a bit, see what comes up and what people recommend we do", Lance added, "it will be good to take a few days off".

"Yes, enjoy the sun, good food, good company. Sounds good to me", you smiled sweetly, kissing his cheek and carrying on talking about each of your days.

The group consisted of you, Lance, Anna and her partner Michael, Mark and his wife Evie, Benjamin and Theo, arriving on time like scheduled to the airport, "how are we all feeling on this fine early morning?", Benjamin was the first to speak once you found yourselves by the gate.

"Could've done with a little bit more sleep, if I'm honest", Evie groaned into her husband's shoulder, "but otherwise very excited".

"Me too! Can't wait to feel some sun in my face", you smiled, taking off your jacket since you were feeling hot and giving everyone a show of your baby bump.

"Oh, it's so cute, Y/N! You look great!", Anna gasped, hands in front of her mouth as she got closer to you, "you're glowing!".

"And I also have these sexy things", you lifted your pants to show the compression socks the doctor recommended you wear whenever you boarded flights. You always travelled in comfy clothes, having learned over the years that any other way was simply not the way to go, so you had on a loungewear tracksuit, the flowy pants matching the equally roomy sweater.

"Doctor's orders?", she wondered and you nodded, "I already have issues as it is before getting pregnant, so it wasn't like I didn't expect it. You get used to them after a while", you said, checking to see if everyone was ready to walk to the plane once they checked your passports.

"Would you like something to drink before we take off?", the flight attendant wondered, taking orders from everyone, "could you please get us a bottle of water?", Lance asked, knowing you would forget about it.

"I was going to drink it", you teased, accepting the cup and drinking its content, "I remember what the doctor said", you smiled.

By the time you had been flying for a quarter of the expected time for the whole flight, you got up, walking along the small corridor while rubbing your bump.

"Is this a runway competition? Because we don't stand a chance when you look like that", Theo hyped you up, making you giggle as you exaggerated your walk for a few seconds before feeling your daughter kick.

"Doctor said to keep moving, since the socks can only do so much, and she's been kicking like crazy", you added, tapping the spot over your bellybutton where she seemed to kick harder.

"Hey! If she's kicking, I get privileges!", Lance called, making you stop in front of him as he places his palm where your hand was.

"Do you guys want to go get ready for the pool? I don't feel like doing much else today", Anna suggested, earning nods from everyone before you split into your rooms.

"Lance!", you called, seeing your husband come back from the balcony, "I think I need help taking these off, I can't bend properly", you blushed, not feeling strong enough to pull the socks away from your legs.

Chuckling, he bent down, kneeling on the floor so he could help you, massaging the skin and kissing your calves, "do they feel good?", he asked.

"Thank you", you groaned, wiggling your toes, "yes, it's a nice feeling, I might actually take these up after little one joins us, but they're a pain to get out", you offered, kissing his forehead and helping him get up, "let's go and enjoy the sunny day!", you cheered.

After getting ready, you met the rest of the group by the pool, the guys already in the water while the girls preferred to stay in the sun.

"Are you going us or joining them?", Michael wondered, "I'm going in the water, I've had enough of cold, gloomy days", you said, finding the steps so you could ease into the water. Taking off the cover up and throwing it to your chair, everyone's eyes travelled to your uncovered bump.

"Come here", Lance stretched his arms and beckoned you to approach him, chest and hair dripping wet since he had jumped in. Wrapping your arm around his waist, his right hand went to your bump immediately, "does he ever unlatch from your bump? Or is he always keeping his girls within arm reach distance?", Benjamin chuckled. It was all friendly banter and he was genuinely happy for his friends.

"A good mix of both", you confessed, "It's all new territory and we're going through all of this together. Besides, I've been feeling very clingy and wanting to start nesting, so I'm probably the one attached to him", you blushed.

"I want to float for a bit, your sister said that the best thing she did for her back pain when she was pregnant was relieve the pressure by being in the water", you held your husband's hand, getting ready to let yourself fall on your back.

"We're standing by here just in case you start sinking down like a nail", Mark noted with a giggle, making the boys do a circle around you and Lance as you kicked your legs up.

After a few moments of finding your balance, gravity and all things physics worked as your bump and chest rose up, poking out of the water while you floated, "Y/N! This is such a cute pick! Little one with all her uncles protecting you both!", Evie exclaimed, getting her phone and snapping a few pictures at the moment.

"Now move away, I want to snap a few of just Y/N, she looks glorious", she complimented as the boys swam away, "gorgeous, mama, absolutely gorgeous".

"It feels good", you moaned, "I feel so light weight, like, feather-light", you smiled when you saw Lance look back at you, "we can look into it when we go back home, anything to make you more comfortable, sweetheart", he said, kissing your lips before he held your ankles, moving your body as you giggled, not noticing Evie recording the video she claimed was "for when the little princess grows up and wants to know what love is". Her parents would be the best example and this one of the many moments to show it.

When you got back to the lounging chairs, carefully rubbing sun protection cream on before laying down, the boys started playing Padel in the court the house you rented had, shouts and groans heard while you and the girls got some colour on your skin.

"They're just little boys sometimes, aren't they?", Anna noted, seeing Lance and her boyfriend bicker about a foul.

"In some ways, I guess, but it's good they have eachother to spend time with, Goodness knows I won't play that", Evie sneered, "would you, Y/N?".

"What? Play Padel?", they nodded, "I've played with Lance before, with the other drivers and their partners. I'm not that great, but I'm not nearly as competitive as them, so I just play for the fun of it. Lance was kind enough to invite me out of it when he Charles were fighting for the first place in their Driver's Padel Championship", you chuckled.

"I love these dresses on you", Lance complimented, his hand grabbing yours and twirling you around, smiling when you faced him again and kissing your forehead.

"Thank you, my love", you added, seeing Michael return with the passes for the race, "we're all set guys, c'mon!", he nudged, handing everyone their pass before you walked to the entrance, a couple of photographers taking pictures and a group of fans asking Lance for autographs.

"That's where we will be", you pointed to the hospitality, walking in and choosing somewhere to sit. While you, Evie and Anna enjoyed this racing series, you were planning to stay on sofas while the boys were standing against the balcony railing so they could watch the race.

Throughout the weekend, you couldn't help but notice how Lance had been having so much fun with the boys, making a mental note to do these things more often when you had the opportunity.

He said something and loudly laughed, bringing your attention to him before your daughter made herself known, "it's daddy, I know", you smiled, rubbing your bump.

"She always kicks when he laughs?", Evie cooed, "My goodness, if you two don't stop being so cute, I'm next", she let out a groan.

"Yes, or when he speaks to the bump very closely. The books say she's able to recognise his voice, and it's very cute", you smiled, "although the bigger she gets, she'll soon start kicking my bladder".

"Wooo-ooh!", Lance said as you assumed the race was going well, looking back to check on you and blowing you a kiss.

The vineyard was truly stunning and, despite not taking part in the wine tasting for obvious reasons, you were having a great time.

"Are you also having lunch here? Our chef has done an excellent tasting menu", the young woman offered.

"We already have BBQ booked", Lance stated, "since my wife can't drink right now, we're giving her one of her pregnancy cravings. Maybe next time we visit", he nodded.

When you arrived at the restaurant, you were guided to the table, placing your things down and looking at the menu.

"Can you order for me, please? I really have to go to the bathroom", you wondered as Evie said she was going with you.

When the waiter came back, to the table, he started taking everyone's order, tapping on the iPad as they went along the table, "Can you just make sure the meat is cooked through, please? My wife is pregnant", Lance told the waiter, "absolutely, sir", before he left.

"You really get a kick out of it everytime you say she's pregnant, don't you?", his friend teased, "don't get me wrong, I think it's cute actually", Mark smiled.

"Of course I do, the woman I love is having our baby", Lance cooed, seeing you walk to the table back from the bathroom.

"And she looks incredibly gorgeous while she does it!", Anna said, "she's glowing, really. You guys are going to be such great parents, can't wait to meet the little princess".

"Neither can we, but soon enough", you smiled, accepting Lance's hand and holding it in yours, "soon enough".

#lance stroll imagine #lance stroll fanfic #lance stroll x reader #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 fluff #lance stroll fluff

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ggomos-maribat · 9 months

Text

2 | in which Damian Wayne wakes up to an odd breakfast

Part 2 of No Mr. Wayne You Can't Adopt Me! | Masterlist

Saturday. Bruce's only schedule for the day? An interview.

But inside the Wayne manor.

It wasn't Marinette's first visit to the house, but she still couldn't get used to how humongous it was. She readjusted the box in her hands and the coat hanging from her arm as Bruce himself welcomed her at the front door and guided her to the drawing room.

A drawing room that indeed looked expensive but was extremely messy at the moment.

"Where's Alfred?" she asked.

"He's out for groceries and a few other errands," replied Bruce, which explained the state of the room. Which also explained the Batarangs and a utility belt lying out in the open which Bruce didn't seem to notice.

Marinette inwardly sighed one of her many sighs for the day. Her boss was lucky she came over early in the morning on a weekend. She wondered how his identity hadn't been discovered by the public yet. She took the chance to give Bruce a once-over to examine his outfit: polished shoes, blue blazer, blue tie, hair gelled to perfection.

"Is it too formal?" he asked hesitantly.

"They will only take one photograph of you but you have to at least leave the impression that you're not 'all work, no play' in your own house." She crossed her arms. "May I suggest your waffle-knit sweater with a collared dress shirt underneath and light-colored pants?"

What is that expression . . . is Bruce actually pouting?! "Yes, okay. I'll change now."

Just as he was about to turn around and retreat upstairs, Marinette stopped him. "Mr. Wayne, may I tidy up this space for our guests?"

He appeared a shade paler, pinned under her stern gaze. "Yes, of course. Thank you Marinette."

And off he scurried to his bedroom.

With his permission, the PA got to work. Ms. Sinclair and her assistant will be here at eight-thirty. We have around fifteen minutes to prepare. She picked up the papers scattered on top of and underneath the coffee table, stored away the blankets draped on the chairs, and safely hid the Batarangs and other identity-incriminating objects behind some knick knacks on the shelves. Armed with a duster and a lint roller, she moved around to clear the cushions of fur and get rid of the dirt between spaces. Finally, she pulled the curtains open to give a lively view of the courtyard (and to introduce some much-needed sunlight into the area).

When Bruce returned downstairs wearing the outfit from her recommendation, he blinked and looked around as if it was his first time seeing the room. "This looks much better," he hummed in approval.

Marinette topped it off by placing a flower centerpiece on the coffee table. "Anything else you need me to do, Mr. Wayne? Should I sit in during the interview?"

"No thank you, I have another request for you." Bruce's eyes flickered towards the kitchen. "You see, some of my children might already be awake at this time and Alfred's not around to take care of breakfast."

". . . I don't believe this fits my job description."

"I'll add to your pay this month."

"I'll get started on breakfast right away, sir. Any preferences?"

"Anything will do."

Marinette nodded and immediately put away all the cleaning equipment as the doorbell rang. Bruce told her that he would be the one to greet Ms. Sinclair, so she headed for the kitchen instead.

***

Upon entering the new room, Marinette noticed that there was already an occupant inside. A short-haired woman sat on top of a barstool on the kitchen island, cradling a mug. Marinette halted in her tracks, bowing slightly.

"Hello. Miss . . . Cassandra." She smiled softly. "I'm Marinette, Mr. Wayne's assistant. I don't believe we've met before. Your father's currently entertaining a Gazette reporter at the moment and asked me to cook breakfast."

Cassandra, or Cass as Bruce would often refer to her, tilted her head. "Nice to meet you."

Marinette unhooked an apron near the refrigerator. "Would you like me to make you another cup of tea?"

Cass' eyebrows raised, perhaps surprised at how perceptive she was. She gazed down at her mug, thinking, and met Marinette's eyes again. "Sure."

With a one-month raise in mind, Marinette prepared the teapot and collected the ingredients. Thanks for not telling me which children are home, she frowned as she went over the contents of the pantry. Very helpful, Mr. Wayne. She settled on playing it safe: simple but numerous choices.

"Have you got any preferences for breakfast, Miss Cassandra?" She asked as she tipped the teapot over Cass' mug. Cass merely shook her head 'no'.

"Very well."

Marinette had just preheated the pans when footsteps sounded. In rushed another Wayne kid, slinging a bag over his shoulder.

"Good morning, Mr. Thomas," she chirped. "Would you like coffee, tea, or juice?"

Duke looked like he was caught off guard seeing her there. He looked back and forth between her and Cass, eyes filled with confusion. His sister only motioned for him to reply to Marinette.

"Uuh, coffee please," he responded, walking up to a barstool to sit down.

"I'll brew a cup for you right away." Marinette took the empty coffee maker, suspiciously containing remnants of the drink. Mr. Drake's doing, no doubt. "Mr. Wayne had me get started on breakfast since Mr. Pennyworth isn't here at the moment."

"Ohh," said Duke. "Marinette, right? It's a Saturday today though. Bruce called you in just to make breakfast? He's incompetent but not that incompetent, you know."

"He does require my presence for the interview he's doing." Marinette motioned towards the direction of the drawing room. "I have nothing to do while he's currently conversing with Ms. Sinclair, so he thought I could cook some food for you."

"Pretty sure his main problem was breakfast though."

Marinette slowly nodded in agreement, stirring the contents of one pot. "I didn't object because he promised to compensate me fairly."

"As he should." Duke brought out his phone to check his reflection on the camera. "By the way, do either of you have any tips for an internship interview?"

Cass shrugged and patted his hand. "You'll do well."

"Really? I almost couldn't sleep last night because of it." Duke huffed. "Then Tim told me to just wing it after I caught him making coffee."

Marinette contributed two words while still moving around to cook: "Your cologne."

Duke sniffed himself. "Does it smell bad?"

"It's best to go for a more subtle scent." She wrinkled her nose and momentarily reached for her bag to toss him a bottle that she brought. "Here, this might be more suitable."

"You brought men's cologne?" Duke stared at the glass sprayer in disbelief.

"You'd be surprised at how many things Mr. Wayne unexpectedly needs." The reply drew out a little laugh from Cass.

Duke took a whiff and lit up. "I'll go change and put this on. Thanks, Mars!"

As he raced back up the stairs, Marinette checked the time. She untied her apron, poured out four cups of coffee, and prepared them with differently: the first two (one for Duke), she used only creamer and sugar; in the second one, she added just the right amount of sugar; and in the last, a vanilla flavoring, tower of whipped cream, and a dash of cinnamon. Next, she quickly set up the three drinks on a wooden tray, plus three plates of pastries from the box she brought.

Thank kwamis Alfred has a good kitchen arrangement system, she thought.

"Please excuse me for a moment." She told Cass as she picked up the tray.

She was granted impeccable timing when she slipped into the drawing room—Bruce and Ms. Sinclair had paused their interview, with the latter's eyes immediately gleaming in delight upon seeing the snacks and drinks. Meanwhile, Sinclair's assistant-slash-photographer gawked.

"Excuse me, here's some refreshments." Marinette beamed at the journalist, setting down the tray. "Mr. Wayne picked these pastries just for you, miss. I hope you enjoy them."

"Goodness!" Excitement was practically radiating from the woman. "Aw, Bruce you didn't have to!"

Ms. Sinclair wasn't a difficult person to please. A quick research told Marinette that she had a sweet tooth. A much deeper (totally not borderline stalker-ish) research revealed her favorite coffee blend and pastry shop.

Marinette definitely read a hint of surprise from Bruce, even if he did a good job of concealing it. Because Bruce, in fact, didn't prepare the pastries and is seeing them for the first time. He directed a charming smile at Ms. Sinclair. "It's the least I can do. Please enjoy."

"Such a dear," the woman gushed. "Now I might do three pages of the magazine for you, not two!"

And when Bruce glanced at Marinette, she sent him a look saying 'you better thank the heavens you have me.'

***

When she returned, Duke was back, happily sipping his coffee but along with him was a newcomer.

The youngest son.

Marinette had met Damian Wayne only a few times before and only when Bruce was around. Bruce had introduced him fleetingly, so she had only managed to exchange simple greetings with him, not anything more.

But despite their lack of interaction, Marinette knew a lot about Damian from Bruce's ramblings during lull time at work. He'd tell her 'Damian tried to adopt another cat', 'I think Damian's mad at me', 'How can I get Damian and Jason to bond together?', 'Damian threatened to go back to his mother if I don't agree to let Titus come on vacation with us', or 'I think Damian just used a slang on me. What does this mean?'

Marinette would give her best advice to her boss during those times, but she couldn't help but wonder if the resolutions ever worked with Damian since Bruce never relayed follow-ups.

"Good morning, Damian," she greeted, "Breakfast is almost ready. Would you like a drink?"

"Thomas filled me in." He set his bag on top of the counter. "Father really shouldn't be calling his PA for this. And no, I don't want a drink. I have to go soon."

Duke eyed his brother's outfit. "You have school today?"

"I asked my art teacher if I can come in today to work on my painting as we're not allowed to take our artworks home." Damian replied.

"No need to come in on time," Cass pointed out. "Come eat."

Damian narrowed his eyes at the pans on the stove. "I cannot eat—"

"Vegan kimchi fried rice and tofu scramble," Marinette said, "I cooked something else for you."

". . . Tt. Fine." And he begrudgingly took his seat.

The three siblings watched as Marinette served a feast—the delicious aroma of breakfast wafted around the room as she carefully plated the dishes in perfect portions. She didn't know if her cooking was on par with Alfred's, but she should at least impress them for the good pay she was getting from Bruce. She set down the plates in front of them with a simple 'bon appétit!'

Duke shoveled up the food quickly. "This is so good!" He took another bite.

To this, Cass nodded in agreement. Meanwhile, Damian quietly chewed his meal, paying no compliments.

But he gazed up at Marinette. "You're not going to eat?"

"Oh, no thank you," Marinette declined, "I wouldn't want to impose, and I already ate before I came here."

It was a full-on lie. It was taking all of her strength to not let her stomach growling be heard. Although she was inside Bruce's home, she still had to act professional. Luckily, Damian only raised an eyebrow skeptically and continued eating.

***

"Is there anything else you need, Mr. Wayne?"

Bruce seemed stunned for a second after seeing Marinette hand a packed lunch to Duke before he rushed out. He even taste-tested her cooking and remarked how delicious it was.

He blinked at her. "Nothing else. You've done so much already, thank you."

"I should be going home then."

"Wait." Bruce spun around to face his son. "Damian, you're heading out too. Can you drive Marinette home?"

"But Father—"

"I can commute on my own, it's no problem at all." Marinette stepped forward.

"Her residence is on your way to school," Bruce insisted. "And please let him take you, Marinette, as thanks for breakfast."

When her gaze landed on Damian, he didn't seem too happy about it. But how could she deny a free ride?

"Thank you, Mr. Wayne." She bowed slightly. "I'll see you on Monday."

***

Suffice to say, the walk to the car and most of the ride was full of awkward silence. Marinette tried not to look at Damian every second or so. She went over her mental notes about him. Damian Al Ghul Wayne. The current Robin, who's attending university. Likes animals, broody, formerly extremely violent. If she remembered correctly, he was around her age.

"Take the next right over there and my apartment's in the second building." She offered a small smile. "Thank you for the ride again."

He didn't reply.

He only followed her directions and stopped in front of her building. As a last attempt at communication, Marinette took the box with pastries left over and held it out to him.

"Here, you can take these last two. They're vegan." Marinette watched as his gaze dropped down to the box before lifting up to meet hers.

"No thank you. You should have them instead—you're starving, aren't you?" He tapped his fingers on the wheel. "Besides, you're the one who bought that."

Her eyes widened. Had she been obvious the whole time? "Um, er . . ." She retracted her arms. "Okay. Thank you."

She unclasped her seatbelt and sneaked another glance at him. She was close to opening the door when she stopped. "Hey, can you take off your seatbelt for a sec?"

He frowned. "What?"

"It won't take long, Mr. Wayne."

"I don't—" He cut himself off and sighed, most likely remembering one of their first encounters. He'd ask her to call him Damian, not 'Mr. Wayne' like his father, so she'd only use his last name when he wasn't being cooperative.

Damian did as she said and she reached over to undo his tie. He didn't say anything as she redid the lopsided knot, tying his necktie neatly and smoothing over the creases.

She didn't notice how small the distance between them had become until she felt his breath on her forehead.

"There you go." She pulled away and opened the door. "Alfred usually helps you with that, doesn't he?"

"Yes," he mumbled.

She smiled. "Good luck with your painting, Damian."

Again, silence. But Marinette pretended not to notice him fumbling with his seatbelt as she got out of the car.

#maribat fic #maribat fanfic #dc x mlb #mlb x dc #maribat #dc x miraculous #NMWYCAM #PA!Marinette

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crookedkryptonitebeliever · 1 month

Text

Okay i lied , im not cutting off yandere sources cause i need Yves to cope with the high stress.

So here's some Yves content at the supermarket

Yves pays close attention to how and where your eyes linger at. Especially at grocery or other retail stores where there are a wide variety of objects. He notes down what catches your attention first, next and last, what caused you to do a double take and for how long. What colour, what texture, what shape and etcetera etcetera. He keeps count and remembers the sequences too.

It's fascinating, your habits change depending on the lighting, temperature, humidity, atmospheric pressure, smell and loudness of the area. Even the feeling of the flooring beneath your shoes would affect the duration you're willing to look at a product.

Yves would pretend to check the nutritional information of an item that claims to be "healthy" and "organic". But in actuality, he's watching you; do not underestimate his peripheral vision, it's almost as if he has eyes on the back of his head.

He would get a small rush of excitement whenever he predicts your next move successfully, shock and slightly more delightful when he's wrong; because that means he has discovered something new about you and must document his findings immediately.

How strange, you're exhibiting signs of under stimulation despite the fact that supermarkets usually fulfill your sensory needs, most of the time, overloading you. So Yves peruses the aisles even more, letting his heels clack against the tiled floors, pushing the shopping cart slowly and observing if the extra disturbances around you will do anything to your predicament.

But no, you're still uncomfortable. How interesting, how can Yves help you? He's dying to know, but he must run multiple tests discretely to find out.

However, before he could proceed, you walked up to him and stared at Yves in the eyes.

He replaced the can of diced tomatoes back onto the metal shelf before peering down at you. Yves intentionally chose to wear one of his taller heels to create that subconscious "guardian" role, making him ridiculously tall.

"Yes, dear?" He asked, bringing his fingers to your hair, gently brushing them away from your face. This seems to improve your mood, it made his heart skip a beat when he realized that you were craving for his touch.

You told him that it's nothing, you just wanted to see him.

Now that's not true, you wanted more but you're too shy and nervous to outright ask for it.

Yves smiled, softly coaxing you closer to his side, which made you automatically cling onto him and bury your head in his torso. Yves stroked your back rhythmically up and down.

While he lets you recharge in the side hug, Yves uses a free hand to inspect more canned items, he also likes guessing what additives might be added into each product and how much of each nutrient does it contain.

It's impressive how his brain works like a supercomputer with trillions of servers, his eyes, nose, ears, skin and tongue work as the world's best sensors. Yves is actively gathering the smallest, most detailed information about you, the environment, himself and whatever he has on hand. All that, without a struggle, without any clashes in thoughts or confusion in data. All that without overwhelming himself, not at all. He's in fact, very relaxed.

You let go of him when you had enough, but it seems you're not willing to fully part from his form yet as you're holding onto his large, smooth and manicured hand.

He walks to the next section of the aisle, pushing the trolley along with him and enveloping your smaller hand in his. He noticed that you've lost interest in looking around as canned goods bore you and you would very much rather look through shelves of candy and other junk foods. Where the companies work their predatory marketing tactics on unsuspecting customers like you.

If you wanted to, you would have left him alone to entertain yourself by now. But you're still stuck next to him as he reads the next list of ingredients.

He doesn't need to hide a delighted smile from you, as you're pushing your face against his lowest rib. Yves can express his glee at your very sweet and considerate gesture to accompany him despite your boredom.

He wanted to see how long you would last before he loses your consideration. That's why, Yves kept going through each can with you inching along next to him. Surprisingly, you're durable. But you're not exhibiting signs of weariness anymore, but instead, you're simply content and comfortable.

Strange. The buzzing, blinding lights above you and him, the monotony of the labels, the droning and other bustling noises would have driven you out of this aisle five minutes ago, let alone allow you to express... Happiness for being present. This isn't usual, Yves knows. He has observed you more times than you can count in this exact setting. Everything is more or less the same: the luminescence, the air quality and the decibels that your ears are picking up.

Except, the only variable that changed was him. His presence.

He gently called out your name, which prompted you to look up at him.

Yves pecked you on the lips, leaving a faint stain of his lipstick on your kisser.

"I love you." He whispered, biting onto his tongue immediately because he wanted to say much more. So much more. But he couldn't, it would be horrific for you to learn what he sees without your knowledge.

You stared at him, confused. Of course, you returned his words of affection. What baffled you was this glimmer in his breathtakingly beautiful, smiling eyes that would only appear if you did something extravagantly sweet and loving for Yves without expecting anything in return.

Like giving him a meaningful gift that you toiled for, trying your best to serenade him with an original piece of romantic music, going above and beyond to please or pamper him... What did you do?

Yves lets out a soft laugh as he watches you struggle to contain your excitement at the prospect of receiving that reward later at home. He can feel your tremors as you hold onto his hand.

Well, whatever it is, it surely earned you a very big reward. You're not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, so you gracefully accepted the silent message from Yves.

But for now, he must buy the groceries needed for the week, and all the ingredients to make your favourite dish of all time.

He pushed the cart to the next aisle, bringing you along with him.

#yandere #yandere oc #yandere x reader #yandere male #oc yves #yandere concept #tw yandere #yandere oc x reader #yandere x you #male yandere oc x reader

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moonlightspencie · 4 months

Text

Two Headlights

Chapter 1 of ‘treacherous’

Pairing: Remus Lupin x fem!Reader

Word Count: 5.7k

You sighed, screwing the last leg of the coffee table on before setting it upright in front of your couch. Your new flat wasn’t anything special, but it felt like a whole new start. And, most importantly, it was yours.

After years of childhood lived with your parents or spent at Hogwarts, and then living with your grandparents in America for months after you’d graduated, it was a nice change of place to have somewhere that was entirely your own. Your parents had helped you move in for the most part the day prior, but you’d been working on some of the finishing touches yourself since you’d woken up that morning. It was nice to be alone, listening to music and setting everything just how you liked it. Your cat, Dumpling, was also quite pleased with the new space. He made himself at home immediately, especially once you set up his favorite cat tower.

You stood up from the ground, looking over everything you’d done with a proud smile. It was coming into place nicely, you thought.

You were also joyful for another reason: you’d promised yourself that as soon as you were finished with the living room you’d finally go and see what Fred and George Weasley were up to in their new store. You’d been in the year ahead of them, but they were some of your closest friends in school.

The past few years had been a mess, to say the least, but leave it to them to open a joke store. A successful one at that, from what you’d heard.

Nobody but your parents knew you were back, and you were looking forward to seeing friends you hadn’t seen in almost a year. You took a drink of water in your kitchen, pulled on your shoes and jacket, and set off for town after a brief goodbye to Dumpling.

You’d apparated into a nearby alley, not needing to walk far before it came into view: Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. You chuckled to yourself at the huge red-headed statue coming out of the top of the store.

Walking in was a bit overwhelming, to say the least. Business was clearly booming in the space, and your attention was drawn every which way by various items. You started looking at a wall filled with chocolates that promised less-than-exciting results if you ate them. It reminded you of the products they’d bring to school when you were all there. Nosebleed nougat and puking pastilles were never something you were terribly interested in trying, but from the looks of the picked-over area, they were quite popular.

You startled at the sound of your name being called out in stereo. You whipped around, a smile on your lips as soon as you saw the two familiar faces grinning back at you.

“Hey,” you greeted simply.

Fred was the first to step forward, crushing you in a hug until you were sure you’d been nearly squeezed to death.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, just barely letting you go.

“Heard you two opened a shop. Did you think I’d miss out on this?”

George pushed his brother away, wrapping his arms around you in a much less bone-crushing way.

“Thought you moved to America,” he mumbled, not yet letting go.

“Yeah, went ahead and ditched us as soon as we were out of school,” Fred added in.

You detached yourself from the second twin, taking a step back.

“Well, I’m back,” you stated with a shrug and a small smile.

“For how long?” George asked.

“The foreseeable future,” you stated. “I really only went to stay with my grandparents, but they’re doing well. I think I can get by with vacations whenever possible rather than staying there.”

“You’re staying?” Fred asked with wide eyes.

“I’m staying.”

“Wicked,” they said in unison, matching smiles on their faces.

You laughed, about to ask how business had been since they’d opened, when another familiar voice cut in.

“Fred, George, if you sell Ron one more—” she started, though she paused soon thereafter. “Is that who I think it is?”

You smiled when she recognized you. It had been quite a while since you’d last seen Mrs. Weasley, but she had always been a favorite of both yours and your parents. She was practically a second mother to you whenever your parents were gone. It was just her nature, you supposed, but she always went the extra mile when it came to being kind and nurturing. She wrapped you in a hug not dissimilar to Fred's; if the red hair didn’t tip you off to the family resemblance, the surprising strength certainly would have.

“Oh, dear, I haven’t seen you in ages,” she gushed.

“Ah, Mrs. Weasley,” you said back, arms wrapped around her nearly as tight. “I know, I’ve been away for a while, but I’m back now! I was just telling Fred and George that I’m going to be staying around again.”

She pulled away, though she kept her hands on your arms. “What have I told you? You call me Molly, love. Oh, it’s so wonderful to see you. We’ve missed you.”

“Right, sorry,” you laughed. “I’ve missed you all too. It’s been far too long.”

Just as she was about to reply, she heard a crash behind her, noticing that the boys were showing off some destructive gadget to a girl who looked vaguely familiar.

“You boys,” she started scolding, then shook it off, turning back to you. “They get older, but they never grow up.”

You laughed. “That’s why this is the perfect place for them, isn’t it?”

She smiled softly, shaking her head as she watched her boys now crowding a young boy looking at some contraption.

“Yes. It is.”

You looked after her in the direction of the twins, your own smile forming as they hammed up the product, making the boy laugh at their silly jokes. If anything, they sure knew how to bring a sense of joy into even the worst situations. They always did.

“Well,” you started, letting out a breath. “I should really be off. I’ve got to feed my cat before she starts going crazy. I only dropped by to say hello since I’ve gotten all settled in my new flat.”

Molly turned back to you with wide eyes and a hand on your arm to stop you from getting away so quickly.

“Oh, dear, before you go,” she said, giving another smile to you as she spoke. “We’re having dinner at the burrow tonight. I would love if you could drop by. I’m sure Fred and George would love to have you, Ron will be around, and Harry and Hermoine will be coming along as well.”

You lit up a little. “Oh! I would love to. I haven’t spoken to them since I left for the States.”

“Then it’s settled. You just come by any time tonight. I’ll be serving dinner at six, but we would love to see you before then,” she nodded along as she spoke. “Any time, dear.”

“Wonderful,” you grinned. “I’ll see you in a few hours, after I feed my cat and change out of these clothes.”

She pulled you in for a brief hug, wishing you well before you left the shop. You smiled to yourself on the way out, excited to see everyone again and even more excited for Molly’s cooking. She made the best desserts, especially.

You arrived home to a meowing cat, as expected. You couldn’t leave for more than ten minutes without him getting all riled up.

“Dumpy, you’re insufferable. You know that?” You told him, receiving a loud meow in response.

You shook your head, fixing him some dinner as he rubbed up against your legs. You scratched his chin, then set down his bowl of food next to his water dish.

“You ought to be jealous,” you began, watching him eat. “You’ll be stuck here eating this slop, meanwhile, I get the treat of eating with the Weasleys.”

He ignored you with his little head buried in the food dish, as per usual, and you walked off toward your bedroom with a shake of your head. A warm shower was altogether too tempting to deny, so you took a quick one before getting ready for dinner. You changed into a clean pair of pants and a comfy sweater, spritzing on a little perfume for good measure. You certainly didn’t need to impress anyone at the burrow, but it still felt nice to get ready to see anyone besides your own family for the first time in a while.

You tugged on your favorite boots at the door, double checking that Dumpling had plenty of water, and then you were off once again.

You knocked on the front door, waiting with baited breath to see everyone. A cheery, rosy-cheeked Mr. Weasley smiled brightly as he opened the door.

“There she is,” he said, opening his arms.

“Mr. Weasley,” you greeted warmly, stepping into his embrace.

His hug was brief and as fatherly as ever. He ushered you inside immediately, helping you out of your jacket.

“Molly has been going on about your arrival since she came back home,” he said with a laugh. “It’s wonderful to see you again.”

“Great to see you, too. How’s work been?”

“Oh, just fantastic,” he said, nodding along. “You know, I still haven’t quite been able to wrap my head around the idea of zip ties.”

“Well, it’s really just a tool used to fasten things,” you said, looking around the space. Nothing had changed, not even a smidge.

“Hmm,” he nodded thoughtfully. “I’m still curious—”

“Arthur, leave the poor girl alone,” Molly said, stepping into view. “Hello, dear. I’m so glad you could come by.”

“As am I. Thank you again for the invite,” you said, giving her a warm smile as she ushered you towards the living room.

“You know I love to have you,” she said, waving you off. “Plus, we have a bit of a full house tonight. A few extra guests have decided to come along.”

“Oh?” you questioned, though you went without an answer as Fred and George approached.

“Left us in the dust again,” Fred started.

“At our own store…” George continued.

“And now, you show up at our home.”

“It’s a shame, really.”

“Terrible shame.”

You quirked a brow, giving them a mockingly disapproving stare. “If you want me to leave..."

“No!” they exclaimed together.

“Come on,” Fred said, slinging an arm around your shoulder to usher you ahead.

“You know we love to see you,” George said with a smile from your other side. “Even when you’ve snuck off in the middle of a visit.”

“You two are just as delightfully ridiculous as always,” you said with a sigh.

“You hear that, George?”

“I did. She thinks we’re delightful,” George responded to his brother, nudging your shoulder.

“Funny, you seem to have forgotten the ‘ridiculous’ I threw in right afterwards,” you replied with a laugh.

“Didn’t forget,” Fred began.

George picked up where he left off, “Just didn’t care for it.”

You laughed again, glad to be back in their company, despite yourself. Though, once they got you to the couch and tried pulling you down to sit between them, you finally got a good look at everyone else. A few of them broke away from their conversations to recognize you right back.

"Hey!" Harry exclaimed, popping up from his spot on the floor and launching himself at you. “When did you get back?”

“Just a few days ago,” you said, breaking away to accept another hug from Hermione.

“We had no clue,” she said, smiling widely at you.

“Molly invited me this afternoon,” you explained. “She convinced me by telling me you lot would be here.”

Harry smiled, opening his mouth to say something else, when Ron interrupted with a call of your name and yet another hug.

“What are you doing back?” he asked you, prompting you to explain your situation once again.

They all listened intently as you told them all about your time in the States and what you’d been up to since deciding to move back home. It wasn’t until you felt a tap on your shoulder that they stepped back to allow you a smidge of space again.

“Darling,” he said, and you could hear the smirk in his voice.

“Sirius,” you responded before turning around.

He smiled softly at you, pulling you into his chest. You rocked along with him as he took you, smiling when he pulled away briefly.

“What happened to you?” he asked, a joking tone in his voice. “Last I saw you were just a girl, walking around Hogwarts and causing trouble. When did you turn into a beautiful young woman?”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Always the charmer. It's only been…”

“Well over a year, now,” he said, raising a brow. “Letters don’t count.”

“Mmm,” you hummed, nodding. “How else will you tell me about all your adventures?”

He chuckled, tugging you into his side, looking at the others.

To be fair, it had been quite a long time since you’d seen him. After his escape from Azkaban and the resulting relationship he’d formed with Harry, you’d also become somewhat close after your parents had taken him in for a while. They weren’t officially part of the Order, but Dumbledore trusted them well enough to keep Sirius hidden under the radar when he needed someplace to lay low.

It had been over a year since he was around often, and almost as long since you’d casually seen him.

“My point is that letters aren’t enough, sunshine,” he said, placing a kiss on the top of your head. “I hear from Molly that you’re back to stay?”

You nodded. “I am.”

“Then we’ll have to see one another more, yes?”

“Absolutely,” you reply with a smile, squeezing his side a little. “So, I am terribly curious…”

“Oh?”

“Molly said there’d be a full house tonight. Obviously, you’ll be my favorite surprise guest…”

“Obviously,” he smirked.

“But,” you continued, a smile on your face, “who else is coming around?”

“Well, I think the eldest Weasley boys will be coming home tonight. At least Bill,” he starts. “You’ve already seen Harry and Hermione, so I think the only one left will be Remus.”

You stood up a little straighter. “Professor Lupin?”

He quirked a brow. “Professor Lupin? Remind me, how long has it been since you’ve had him as a professor?"

You roll your eyes. “That’s the name I came to know him by, you can’t blame me for it.”

He hummed, tightening the arm around you a little. “At any rate, I believe Professor Lupin will be our last guest.”

“Well, alright,” you nodded. “Seems like a good group.”

“All the better for you being here with us, darling.”

You pulled him along with you as you finally took your place on the couch, scooting Fred to the side with your hip to make room for Sirius. Fred, of course, playfully protested but ultimately gave in. You nudged Sirius’ shoulder as he watched his favorite young trio talking animatedly with one another. He looked at you with raised brows.

“How have you been?”

He sighed softly. “Just fine. We’ve been spending a lot of time with the Order.”

You hummed. “Right. How has that been?”

“Well enough, but knowing what is to come has started putting many of the members a bit on edge,” he said quietly. “Harry has started taking an interest. He wants to be more involved, and I agree that he should be, but…”

“He’s still a kid.”

Sirius nodded. “He’s a strong kid, but I know that the others aren’t very keen on his involvement.”

“I understand why. They don’t want to put him in harm’s way.”

“He’s already in harm’s way simply by existing,” Sirius retorted. “I want him to be safe as much as anyone else, but we can’t leave him out of something when he’s really been involved his entire life.”

You nodded wordlessly, leaning your head against his shoulder.

“I’m sorry. I wish things could be easier.”

He sighed. “So do I. But it will all work out in the end, won’t it?”

You lifted your head, giving him a sure smile and a brief nod.

“Absolutely.”

He was quiet for a moment, then perked up again, tossing his arm around your shoulders.

“Have you been to Grimmauld Place since we started operating from there?”

“Where you grew up?”

He nodded.

“I don’t think I have, no,” you said, shaking your head.

“I’ll have to invite you soon. Being in the States didn’t change your tastes, did it? You still like your lavender earl grey?”

You snorted. “I wasn’t even there for a year, Sirius.”

“You never know,” he smirked.

At that point, you heard the door opening and closing and Molly emphatically greeting someone. Curious as to whether it was Bill or Lupin, you turned your head over your shoulder and waited.

Though, as soon as he walked into your field of vision, talking with Arthur, you sat up a little straighter.

Professor Lupin had been a favorite when you were still in school. He was always quite kind, a bit funny, and a phenomenal professor. But you’d always seen him as a professor, never as a man, regardless of Sirius’ stories about their younger days. Now, however, you became acutely aware that you weren’t looking at Professor Lupin. You were looking at Remus. Remus, who is still kind and funny and likely as caring as ever, but who is also shockingly handsome.

You didn’t realize you’d been staring until you felt a poke at your side, turning to Sirius, who stared back at you with a raised brow and the ghost of a smirk on his lips.

“What?”

He snorted. “I should be asking you that question... ‘What?’ she says.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m not doing anything.”

“Right,” he replied, not convinced. Then, his smirk only grew as he waved at his dear friend. “Remus!”

“Sirius,” he greeted with a smile, politely excusing himself from the conversation with Mr. Weasley.

Sirius stood, hugging Remus as he drew nearer. You watched their interaction with a small smile, noticing how they both looked entirely comfortable together. It was nice to see them look so at peace.

“Of course,” Sirius began, “you remember my sunshine girl.”

Both men turned to you, though you snorted at Sirius’ title for you. Remus greeted you with a soft call of your name. You smiled, though you tried to reign it in as you were acutely aware of how Sirius was watching you now. You were already overdue for some teasing, no use in making it worse.

“It’s good to see you again. It’s been a while,” you said, leaning over the back of the couch.

“It has. Though I’ve heard a lot about you from Sirius. You know, he really enjoys those letters you send.”

“Aww,” you cooed, laughing. Sirius looked on, trying to put on his unamused face. “You tell all your friends about my letters, Siri?”

“Merely to make fun of you, don’t take it to heart,” he said, a barely contained smile on his face.

“To be fair,” you started, looking back to Remus, “I’ve also heard quite a lot about you from Sirius as well. Though for some, it has been quite hard to believe, I must admit.”

“Oh? Why is that?” Remus asked, his arms crossed over his chest.

“Well, the differences between ‘Professor Lupin’ and Siri’s beloved ‘Mooney’ are pretty significant.”

He smiled softly, nodding his head slowly in response. “I see. So, you know of all my sins, now.”

“I didn’t tell her the worst of it,” Sirius responded. “Only the times you embarrassed yourself.”

“And I’m not sure how much to trust out of hismouth, so who’s to say I even believe what I’ve been told?" you added.

“If you knew Remus better, you wouldn’t doubt the things I’ve told you for a second,” Sirius said, leaning next to where I was on the couch. “I think you would have liked him back then.”

Remus laughed quietly. “Right. I’m afraid I might be too boring to stand a chance, now.”

“Oh, so you’d like a chance?” Sirius teased.

Remus’ smile faded slowly, his cheeks tinting pink when he realized his mistake. You huffed out a laugh, feeling a little shy yourself after that particular line.

“Quit teasing,” you said, gently slapping Sirius’ arm. “He just got here.”

“He’s been dealing with me for years, he should’ve known to be prepared,” Sirius said, then leaned in to speak only to you. “And don’t think I didn’t see how you looked at him. I won’t say anything now, but be ready to have a storm come later.”

“I’m not coming over for tea.”

He scoffed, hand over his chest in mock offense. You shook your head, then looked back at Remus.

“How on earth have you dealt with him for as long as you have?”

He sighed, clearly a bit grateful for a slight change in topic, though staring daggers at Sirius.

“Unfortunately, the good of being around him usually outweighs the bad. Can’t lose that, now.”

You laughed. “Usually?”

“I’m hurt, Mooney,” Sirius said, the smile on his face saying something else.

“Well, how have you been?” Remus asked, turning his attention to you as he shoved his hands in his pockets. “Are you just here for a visit?”

“No, I’m back for good now. I wanted to be back home, so I just started renting a flat in London.”

“That’s wonderful. How is it so far?”

“It’s only been a couple of days, but I love it,” you smiled. “It’s nice to have someplace that’s completely my own. I’ve also started considering what I’ll do for a job now that I’m back, but I just don’t quite know yet.”

“How are you affording your flat, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“Of course not." You waved him off. “My grandparents on my father’s side of the family passed away a few years ago. I never knew them very well, but they left me an inheritance. It should help me get by for the next year or so."

“I see. Have you considered becoming a teacher? You were always a phenomenal student and a tutor, if I remember correctly."

You nodded. “Yes, I did some tutoring. I have considered teaching, but I probably need some more experience before they’ll accept me. I have always loved herbology, though, so I’m hoping I might find something in that field.”

He hummed thoughtfully. “Whatever you choose, I’m sure you’ll be brilliant. Always have been.”

You felt a heat in your cheeks. “Thank you. I can only hope others will hold the same opinion.”

Sirius cleared his throat at that, and you glanced up, catching his eye. He still wore that stupid smirk.

“I’d love to stick around, but I think I’ll go see if Arthur needs any help with anything.”

“Oh, I should probably see—” you started, though you were quickly cut off.

“No, no,” Sirius said, shaking his head. “Stay and catch up. You two seem to be having a good conversation, yeah?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, knowing the game he was playing. He’d do just about anything to get a reaction. He patted the couch next to you as he stood straight.

“Take a seat, Remus. She doesn’t bite,” he said, ushering his friend towards the couch seat he’d previously vacated. “Hard.”

You opened your mouth to snark back at him, but fell short as he scurried away. Remus slowly lowered himself into the seat as you turned back around.

“Sorry about him,” he said quietly.

“I’m used to it by now. I think one of his greatest joys in life is messing with people he claims to love.”

He laughed at that. “You do know him well, don’t you?”

“I do,” you confirmed. “Practically lived with him for a few months a while back, you know?”

“I know,” he nodded. “He really does speak highly of your family. Especially about you.”

“He better. I’m a delight, and he knows it.”

He laughed, his eyes crinkling as he looked at you. You had to remind yourself not to stare too long.

“I don’t doubt it,” he said, still smiling. “You were always one of my favorites to teach, which comes as a bit of a surprise in hindsight.”

“How so?”

“You’re friends with Sirius, and Fred and George. How were you not a terrible troublemaker?”

I snorted a laugh. “I could ask you the same thing, ‘marauder’. You don’t seem like the type of person who would be relatively mild-mannered as you were as a professor.”

“Time changes things.”

You hummed. “I suppose. There has to be some of that wild streak left in you, though. I’m sure of it.”

He adjusted in his seat, facing you a little more to give you his full attention. He narrowed his eyes slightly, though it couldn’t hide the amused sparkle in them.

“How can you be so sure?”

“I’m not. Just taking a guess,” you said with a self-satisfied smirk. "But the fact that you still hang around Siri, and he certainly has a… robustpersonality, tells me that you must be more than a kindly professor.”

“You’re very wise.”

“Comes with age, I guess,” I joked, stretching my legs.

“Age,” he repeated. “What do you know about aging?”

“I’m twenty-three years old, I’ve practically got one foot in the grave already.”

He groaned. “If you’re old, then I ought to be dust by now.”

You laughed. “Oh, come now. You’re not so old.”

“You just said you had one foot in the grave at twenty-three,” he said, his voice raising in a way you’d never heard from him. It made you laugh again.

“Maybe I was exaggerating a bit.”

“Maybe,” he nodded along.

You let a silence fall over you for a few minutes as you observed the others around you. Everyone seemed so happy despite the heavy circumstances everyone was living under. It was nice to see. You let your eyes drift to Fred and George, who spoke with Harry about some silly product they were developing. Then, you saw Ron and Hermione, still pretending they weren’t interested in one another despite the ever-obvious signs of young love. Finally, you settled your gaze back on Remus. He was looking over his shoulder at some of the photos laid out around the room. You took a moment to really study him. The scars on his face that somehow only made him look more handsome, his hands, the way he relaxed into the cushions so casually, the way he looked at you—oh.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to…” You drifted off, feeling embarrassed at getting caught staring. “Just haven’t seen you in a long time. You look a little different, you know?”

“I do?”

“You do,” you nodded.

“Tell me,” he said with a brief nod. “What’s so different?”

You shrugged. “Well, the way you carry yourself is a bit different. You’re more… relaxed, I suppose. You look less worn-down and more comfortable. Your hair is also different. It’s a bit longer now. Obviously, your clothes are different from how I’m used to seeing you, but they look nice.”

He quirked a brow, hiding a smile. “I see. I suppose I have changed some, haven’t I? Though, so have you.”

“Yeah?”

“Definitely.”

You paused a moment, then, “Well, if I told you what I noticed, I think it’s only fair that you do the same for me. I’m curious.”

“Well, you’ve obviously moved up in life. You’re a full-fledged adult now, living on your own. You seem more confident than you did a few years ago. At minimum, you’re speaking your mind more than you did back then,” he said with a smile. “Physically, you’ve changed as well. Your face has changed a little, though I can’t quite place how. I just know that it has. You carry yourself in a way that feels more... Like you.”

You smiled to yourself a little at that. “Alright, I’ll take it.”

“Are you two all done with your flirting, now?” Sirius’ voice came from behind you.

You let out a sigh. “If you think this is flirting, I feel sorry for the women you talk to.”

Remus laughed, his eyes widening at the comment. Sirius merely looked shocked, an amused look on his face.

“Sassy,” he said, still a little bewildered.

“You should expect it at this point.”

He snorted, looking to Remus. “And you’re not going to say anything?”

“She seems to have covered it quite well,” Remus responded, nodding towards you.

“Hey,” you heard a voice behind you call, and turned to see Fred. “Can I ask you a question?”

“What about?”

“I’ve… I’m thinking about a birthday gift for Angelina. Do you think you could help me?”

You smiled, nodding, then turned to the other two you’d been talking to.

“If you two will excuse me, I have some productivethings to do now.”

“Ouch,” Sirius said, still grinning. “We’ll see you soon. Watch your back, because I do plan on getting you back for all that snark of yours.”

“I’d like to see you try, Siri.”

He hummed, moving to take your spot on the couch as you walked off with Fred to discuss his ideas away from prying ears. You conversed about it for a while before you’d ultimately convinced him to get her the nice necklace he’d been considering. He let out a sigh of relief after finally voicing that he knew what he was going to do, thanking you profusely.

You smiled to yourself, always finding it so strange and sweet any time either of the twins were entirely unsure of themselves. They usually had a grip on who they were, but watching Fred have a small crisis over making the right decision for his girlfriend was oddly heartwarming.

You hadn’t realized how much had really changed in the time you were away from everyone, but being around all of them at once certainly highlighted it. It was odd. But nice. Like remodeling the kitchen of a childhood home. It’s still home and still what you knew best, but things were new and exciting to discover. Mom got a new rolling pin for the old family cookie recipe, and you were cutting carrots on a new counter as you looked out the window at the tree you’d climbed as a child. You figured you could get used to it all easily.

Even going back into the living room and seeing Harry and his dear friends talking showed it. They were still young and still silly, but they were noticeably older and more mature than they’d been even two years ago. Your heart felt entirely full.

Before long, your stomach was even more full. Molly had called everyone to sit for dinner, and she went above and beyond for the meal. You were certain you’d explode if she put another tart on your plate for dessert, and had to adamantly tell her so when she tried for the third time. She laughed, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of your head, moving on to do the same to Ginny and George, who shared the same sentiment. Ron, of course, took another.

“Do you think you’ll be around more often, now?” Hermione asked from next to you.

You nodded. “Yeah, I will be. I’ll have to invite you over to my flat sometime. Maybe our cats can have a play date.”

She smiled. “I’d like that.”

You sat another half an hour or so before everyone started to stir from their places. You stood from your seat, saying goodbyes to everyone with the note that you probably needed to get back home to your cat before he started to throw a fit.

“He can’t stay alone for a few hours?” Ron asked.

“He’s still adjusting to his new home. Things should be back to normal for him in a week or so, I’m sure,” you said, giving a slight shrug.

"But you’ll come visit me real soon anyway, won’t you?” Sirius asked, nudging your side with his elbow.

“You bet,” you said with a laugh. “Owl me about it, yeah?”

“Mhm,” he hummed his response, pulling you into one more hug before you started away from the group.

“Thank you again, Molly,” you stated, a hand on her shoulder. “It was delightful, as always.”

“I’m so glad you could come, love,” she said, holding your hand with a warm smile. “I hope I’ll get to see you again soon.”

“As do I. We’ll have to make plans soon.”

“We will,” she nodded. “You let me know if you need anything at all, okay?”

“I will.”

You said your goodbyes, then started towards the door, almost making it before one more person stepped in your way.

“It was nice to see you again,” Remus said, giving a soft smile.

“Nice to see you, too. I’m sure we’ll be seeing more of each other, what with Sirius being so sappy and wanting to hang around me more, now,” you noted with a snort.

“Right,” he nodded. “Well, I hope we do. You’re great company, you know?”

“Thank you.”

He nodded, then perked up. “Oh! You said you’re interested in herbology, correct?”

You tilted your head. “I am.”

“I might have a job opportunity for you, if you’d like me to pass on a good word for you. An old friend named Nemora is a great herbologist. She works with all sorts of plants, but really has an interest in the health-related aspects of herbology,” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Wow,” you said, delighted. “Yes! I mean, I would love if you could talk to her for me. That sounds incredible.”

“I can’t make any promises it will go anywhere, but I can have her contact you if so.”

“That’s incredible. Thank you so much,” you smiled brightly.

He nodded. “Well, it’s been a pleasure. I hope to see you again soon.”

You said your goodbyes once more, then finally headed out the door and back to your flat. You’d expected a good time, but for your first week back home, you decided it couldn’t have gone better.

Chapter 2 ->

#remus lupin x fem!reader #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin angst #remus lupin fic #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin series #remus lupin #luna still hates jk

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ijuststareatstuffhereok89 · 3 months

Text

"Time & the Trickster" A Loki/Doctor Who crossover

Chapter 3: The Doctor and I

You and Loki realize the only chance there may be to sent him back to his native timeline is to consult the one person on Earth who may be crazier than he is. But getting there won't be easy when you have no means or funds with which to travel...

CHAPTER WARNING: none

Previous Chapter · Next Chapter MASTERLIST

Loki was growing impatient again. “Tell me, why aren’t we getting the stone first?”

“I told you, Loki, the guy won’t haggle with us if you look like you fell out of a hamper!”

You’d taken Loki to the local Goodwill, which smelled of mothballs and played the same loop of ten 90’s radio hits over the crackling loudspeaker. After cab fare, you still had about $40 on hand, enough for a cheap pair of jeans, a set of boots, and perhaps two shirts if you budgeted well.

Scooping up a few things without much thought, you shoved them at Loki’s chest and pointed at the changing room, which was little more than a deep alcove in the wall with a swinging wooden door.

“Are you saying we’re going to pay for what is rightfully mine?” Loki asked, offended, going into the booth to try on the clothes you’d picked.

“Welcome to the Realm,” you said bitterly. “Where fairness is made up, and the points don’t matter!”

You heard him snort from behind the cheap wicker door. You couldn’t help but look down at his feet as he slipped them out of Joey’s shoes and into the second hand brown leather boots, ugly but sturdy, and with plenty of wear left. His feet were somehow as beautiful as you’d imagined.

You leaned against the wall next to the changing area with a barely audible sigh. You mumbled under your breath a single word: “pathetic.” Meanwhile, OMC’s ‘How Bizarre’ was playing overhead, and you couldn’t help but smile at the appropriate sentiment.

“It just so happens,” Loki went on, “That I fully intend to get it back without handing over a single credit.”

You were fighting the urge to ‘accidentally’ open the door as soon as you saw the precinct’s old slacks fall to Loki’s ankles.

“How?” you asked. “Loki doesn’t exist here. People will think you’re insane.”

“Well, Loki of Asgard and Jotunheim doesn’t exist on your plane…but the actor who portrays him does, yes?”

“I see, we’re going to commit a little light identity theft today. Now there’s a Loki move,” you admitted. “You’re going to get along with Joey just fine.”

The door opened, and Loki stepped out in a long-sleeved t-shirt in black that may have been a size too small. The jeans you’d picked were dark and stiff at the knee, but the cut still flattered the god’s glorious behind.

It was such a simple ensemble, but you couldn’t peel your eyes away from him.

“Does this look like something this fellow would wear?” he smiled and threw out his arms, modeling the entire look for you with a flashy spin. “How do I look?”

“It’s absolutely not something he’d be caught dead in,” you said woefully. “But it’s the best we’ve got.”

Loki looked down and scoffed. “Perhaps a jacket? Or a robe?”

A robe!

The only jacket in the store that fit Loki was a black leather jacket, so instead of the black undershirt, you got one in dark green to give a little bit of color to the look. Once you were back on the street, you headed southward toward the Valley, where the pawn shop sat kitty-corner to an ice cream stand called Gannon’s. It took about forty minutes at a medium pace to get there, and by the time you did, the afternoon was maturing.

Kit’s Pawn Shop was about the size of a gas station, and a single decaying pickup was sitting in the three-spot parking lot in front.

You turned to one another at the same time, both of you saying “follow my lead” at once.

Loki looked at you oddly. “It was my idea!”

“You don’t even know how electrical outlets work in this world, how are you going to work a scam with a guy like this?” you replied.

“I am the God of Mischief, after all!” Loki said defensively.

“Not in this reality, you aren’t!” you argued.

Loki raised an eyebrow. “You’re a spitfire for sure. Very well, we’ll try it your way.”

“Good. Just act like a snob. Shouldn’t be too difficult for you.”

Even when it was at his expense, Loki was amused by your jab. He straightened his posture and folded his hands in front of him as if he was about to begin a business deal. “Shall we?”

You sucked in a breath and paused for a moment before purposefully shoving the door in with more force than was normal, announcing your presence to the shop with a large “THUMP!” followed by the ringing of the cheap aluminum doorbell. You were instantly accosted by the musty odor of stale cigarette smoke embedded in cheap carpet.

“Be out in a sec!” called a rough voice from beyond your line of sight.

“No, we need you now!” Loki said loudly, adding a phony posh accent to his demand.

You shot him a dirty look. “Don’t press your luck before we’ve even spun the wheel!” you whispered.

The voice was coming from behind a beaded curtain. “Oh well, tough on you, Harry Potter,” grumbled the raspy voice. “I’m doing business on the damn phone!”

You rolled your eyes. “Guess we browse while we wait?”

The shelves behind the glass counter displayed various random items: television sets with cracked screens, vintage posters and newspapers immortalized in laminating plastic, a few toys that looked old enough to have been decorated in lead paint, and a few luxurious hats set awkwardly on white, expressionless heads. Under the counter glass were strings of pearls and gold, a few gems loosely set into tarnished silver rings, and three small pistols lined up under a sign saying “See Management.”

A necklace caught your eye. The pendant was a silver rectangle, and on it, a very small image of a woman looking upward at a sapphire embedded at the top near a roman numeral ‘XVII’. AT the bottom, two barely-readable words were engraved underneath the pretty girl: The Star.

It reminded you of your mother, who had a deck of old tarot cards she played divination games with herself. She would give you and your brother pretend future readings every New Year, while being mindful of making sure even the scariest-looking cards had a positive twist on their meanings so as not to frighten you. Once, she had said The Star would be a prestigious card in your life: one of enduring hope even in hard times.

You hadn’t detected Loki coming up behind you. “It’s lovely,” he remarked. “You should have it.”

“It’s fifty bucks,” you grumbled, quickly moving away and pretending you weren’t dying inside to have it.

“Now, who’s asking for me?” barked Kit, coming out and going behind the counter without looking at you. He was short and hairy, exactly as you’d pictured him.

“Me….Me!” said Loki, standing up straight again.

“Yeah, what can I do for you, Harry Potter?” snarked the crabby old man.

“That isn’t my name, it’s Lo---Tom. Don't you recognize me?”

Kit snorted. “Sweetheart, I’m so high right now I barely recognize my reflection.”

Loki wrinkled his nose in disapproval. You stepped forward, pulling out your cheap phone and quickly pulling up the first picture of Tom Hiddleston you could find: one where he was performing a deep lunge while wearing a soccer uniform.

“He’s Tom-MOTHERFUCKING-Hiddleston, and you have something of his,” you answered. “I’m his agent…Jane Smith.”

“Agent? Oh yeah,” Kit said, leaning down and squinting to look at the photo before looking up at Loki again. “Well, shit. Guess you are.”

Oh, praise every god and creature that he’s stoned, you thought.

“What? You want something? I can give you a great deal on anything in the store!” Kit’s demeanor almost immediately changed after connecting the dots. “Looking for a gun to fight off the fans? Or are you looking for something shiny to impress some model?”

“Last night, Abe came in here with a green stone,” you said quickly. “It wasn’t his to sell to you, and I would like it back now, if you don't mind.”

Kit looked up at the ceiling, taking a few awkwardly-silent moments to dig through the foggy recesses of his memory. “Oh yeah, the ruby!”

“Oh, it isn’t--”

Kit immediately went behind him, took something out of a small chest on a shield, and plopped a shiny green rock in front of you.

“That’s it!” said Loki, going to pick it up. Kit swiped it back first.

“Two hundred for the ruby,” he said simply.

Protesting, you balled your hands in stress. “TWO HUNDRED?? It’s the size of a popcorn shrimp!”

“Rubies aren’t green, you ass,” Loki hissed, his own attitude darkening.

“Listen lady, I’d like to kiss your actor-friend’s ass, but business has been slow this month, and I got rent, you know? I was going to price this at five hundred, actually.”

“I can give you a thousand,” Loki said as if bidding at an auction.

“Oh?” asked Kit, perking up again.

“I find myself a bit stranded at the moment,” Loki added, “And I’m afraid we have no money on us. But once I get back to my hotel room, I can return with the payment, but I do need that stone now.”

You growled and pounded the counter with your fist, “He’ll plug you at the Emmys next year! Think about it…Kit��s Pawn Shop being announced by name just before Best Actor! Your business will explode so fast, you’ll need another store!”

Kit seemed to consider this. “Well…you do look like him a little too much for doubt,” he reasoned through his fog. “You sure you’ll come back?”

“Yes!” you both said a little too quickly. Luckily, this didn’t arouse any further suspicion in the shop owner. He twisted his lip, looking back and forth from one to the other. “I fucking can’t believe I’m doing this.” He gently nudged the pebble over the counter at Loki.

“And also, that pendant!” Loki added, pointing to the tarot necklace you’d been admiring. “I’d like you to give me that as well.”

You opened your mouth, “Oh that isn’t--”

But Kit was already taking the piece out and setting it onto the counter. “Anything else, Mr. Hiddleston?”

Loki raised his nose. “No, I believe that will be all,” he smirked, looking down and winking at you.

Quickly gathering up the stone and the pendant, Loki led you out of the store before the grumpy shopkeep could change his mind. When you were across the road, and in the parking lot at Gannon’s, you let out a relieved laugh, which helped Loki relax.

“I believe that man would have given me the shirt off his back,” said Loki with a sigh of relief. “That was a good idea, Y/N.”

“Loki! You were such a good actor,” you praised, the adrenaline bringing down your normal filter and freeing you to speak your mind more liberally. “Christ, I can’t believe that worked! You’re amazing!”

“Now, look, Y/N!” he said, holding out his palm, the stone flickering a bright green light as it re-attuned to its handler. You had nothing to say as you watched him fiddle a little with the glowing green pebble. It looked like a perfect representation of the Time Stone, and therefore, there was no denying it any longer.

Loki lowered his voice to an intimate whisper, leaning into your face so close that you could feel his cool breath on your neck. You hoped that he didn’t notice it was giving you goosebumps.

“Y/N, do you believe who I am now?” he asked, slipping his free hand under yours and letting you hold the stone. It went out as soon as it left Loki’s hand, becoming an ordinary rock once more.

You looked up into his beautiful soft blue eyes, looking at you with pleading prayer. You closed your hand around the stone. “Yes, Loki. I do.”

“Good girl,” he replied, taking the tarot necklace out of his pocket and untangling it, displaying its full beauty. “And, as a thanks for getting me this far…”

“...normally, I’d tell you to take it back, I don’t need it,” you said sternly. “It’s not necessary.”

Loki moved behind you and placed the chain about your neck gently. “I noticed you admiring it. It means something to you, I think.”

“Yes,” you whispered.

“Then, after all you’ve done for me thus far, I insist you have it,” he asserted as he clasped the pendant shut and slowly turned you around by the shoulder to examine it. “Silver suits you.”

The metal was cool against your skin, and you were silently trying to command yourself to be still and ignore the tenderness of the gesture. It was almost impossible. Your little fangirl heart hummed with joy. “Loki…this is…thank you.” You looked up at him, somehow managing to keep composure. “And I promise I’ll do everything that I can to get you back to where you belong.”

Loki smiled down at you. “I know.”

“...and,” you continued after a dramatic pause, smirking and taking a step back. “I might know a way.”

With the last ten dollars in your pocket, you bought ice cream cones for the pair of you. It would be a nearly ninety minute walk to your apartment on the other end of town, and the day was waning, but still hot. While you walked at a meager pace in order to conserve your remaining energy, you explained to Loki the extraordinary story of another man who found himself in the same situation.

“So, this Doctor is one of the most famous figures in television,” Loki repeated as you passed downtown and the halfway point of your walk. “And a man appears out of nowhere, resembling him perfectly, claiming to be him…yet he doesn’t present any proof?”

You shook your head. “Which is why everyone thinks he’s a nut. He’s brought people out to see the TARDIS, but he refuses to open the door for anyone but himself. Claims it’s too broken and unstable.”

“How long has he been here?” Loki asked.

“Maybe three months. There was a media storm around it for about five minutes. Then some politico got assassinated and they all moved on.”

“Y/N, at the TVA, I learned a lot about timelines, temporal looms, all of it. I think it means all of reality is in danger if I don't return to my place in time,” he added, his voice tinged with regret. “In this world, nothing is possible except in the minds of people, and yet fictional figures are coming to life. Perhaps its a sign that the timelines are crashing into one another…tangling and tying together…bringing different existences together.”

“I’ll pretend I understood that,” you remarked, turning the corner onto your street.

“There is one way I can think of to save all of us…well, all of you,” he concluded, stopping in his tracks as the disturbing thought invaded his senses. “I have the power to strengthen them again and keep them at bay, at dire cost.”

You turned back to help him. “Not now, ok? Let’s see if this wild idea of mine works.”

“Right…going to see The Doctor,” the God recited. “How soon can we leave?”

You shook your head, your apartment finally visible at the end of the block. “After I get paid next week. If I tell Joey to save his tips, we may be able to book three cheap tickets on a ramshackle airline out there.”

“I don;’t think that will be fast enough!” Loki threw up his arms in distress. “This will only get worse and worse until everything is destroyed!”

“And I thought my therapist was a pessimist,” you quipped. “Look, you can’t just show your face and have everything handed to you around here, Loki.”

“It’s already worked once,” he reasoned, crossing the street with you toward the apartment.

“It won’t always.”

Loki exhaled stressfully. “Perhaps there is something I can do to help speed things up.”

Walking with him up to the back door and taking out your keys, you thought about it for a moment. “Maybe if I take you to the bookstore with me tomorrow, Mrs. Graves will let you do some handiwork for a few extra bucks.”

He smiled. “Good, good, because even if it isn’t showing yet, I am beginning to get this feeling.”

“Feeling? Like what?” you asked as you opened the door and ushered your charge inside.

“As if the air is getting denser, more packed in. Like the potential for chaos is increasing around us with every passing second of inaction,” Loki said quietly but frantically.

“That’s just summer in the city,” you answered. “And you’re an agent of chaos, if I recall, so of course it’s getting a little crazy in here” you added a wink to punctuate it.

“No, no, you don’t--”

“--Joey?”

It was past the usual hour for Joey to leave for work at the bar, yet as you walked in with Loki, he was lounging on your Goodwill couch, watching highlights of a college football game that had taken place last night. When you came in, he sat up to attention.

“Oh, Sis, where’ve you been?” he asked, a yawn rolling out behind his greeting.

“We’ve found something important. And we’ve decided we’re going to fly out to London and see this alleged Doctor,” you declared. “It’s really the only hand we have, isn’t it?”

Joey sighed and shook his head. “We have no money, Y/N.”

“We can fly Craptasmic Airlines if we pull your tips next week with my paycheck,” you described, only to have Joey immediately deny your idea. He slowly stumbled to his feet and approached you in the entryway. Loki scrunched his nose.

Joey smelled of beer. “I got fired today, Sis. I got the call about an hour ago,” he said. “None of us are going anywhere.”

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