#(may has 1.5k so far if anyone cares)

[corroded-hellfire]

My gorgeous soulmate. The love of my life. I can’t stop thinking about Reader waiting for a ride and accidentally overhearing Eddie talking to the Hellfire guys about some beautiful girl and how he’s afraid to ask her out. Reader assumes it’s someone else and leaves because she’s upset and doesn’t want him to see her. Bonus points for wingman Dusty Bun, but not necessary. Okay love you byeeeeee xoxoxo @munson-blurbs 💚

Hello, my darling dearest. I hope you enjoy this and I love you too! 💕

Words: 1.5k

Band practice ran late, but that didn’t matter one bit. Your older brother was always running behind to pick you up, leaving you the lone person sitting outside the school, waiting. Usually, you had a book with you, but you’d finished your last one and hadn’t gotten a chance to check a new one out of the library today. Honestly, the fierce autumn wind may have prevented you from reading anyway; the pages would be obeying Mother Nature, not you. The wind whistles and whips so viciously that you slide off of the brick wall you’re sitting on top of and seat yourself on the cold sidewalk, pressing as close to the wall as you can to avoid the harsh blowing.

Luckily, the gust eases up and you only end up having four leaves stuck to your clothing. As you’re picking them from your gray sweater, you hear the telltale squeak of the main doors of the school opening. Your brow creases in confusion because you didn’t realize anyone else was here this late. The dark evening has your mind floating back to the dozens of slasher movies you’ve seen that started with this very scenario. Taking care to be as quiet as possible, you tuck your legs up against your body as you hug your backpack to your chest.

“Damn Eddie, I’ve never heard you talk this way before.”

The voice is vaguely familiar. Nancy’s brother maybe? Right! He’s in Hellfire with Eddie Munson, who must be the Eddie he’s speaking to. An involuntary smile curls on your lips at the boy you’re head over heels for being just a few feet away. The closer they get, the easier it is for you to hear the thunk of the metalhead’s boots coming down the sidewalk. 

“Ugh, I know,” Eddie says, a hint of a whine in his happy-go-lucky voice. “But she’s so fuckin’ beautiful.”

The butterflies in your stomach sour, churning at hearing Eddie talk this way about some girl. He’s not doing anything wrong, and logically you know that. He doesn’t owe you anything. But irritation bubbles up in you as a defense from the heartbreak you’re desperately trying to run away from. Your fingers dig into your backpack as you squeeze your eyes closed to prevent the tears from leaking out.

“Ask her out!” That voice was Jeff’s—from your history class.

Eddie scoffs and you can just picture him shaking his head, his frizzy curls swaying back and forth. The thought of Eddie asking a girl out forces the hot tears to leak down your face, despite how tightly you’ve been keeping them closed. 

“Like she would want to go out with me,” he says. 

Now your heart also breaks for Eddie. Who could be so stupid as to not want to go out with him?

“Aww, I think you’re scared,” another voice goads. Probably the curly-haired boy that’s friends with the Wheeler boy. 

“I’m not scared,” Eddie says. “I’m just…afraid.”

“That’s the same thing!” Wheeler says before you hear a thump and the boy mutters an, “Ow!”

“Shut it, Wheeler. I don’t want to hear shit from you or Henderson on girls. Both of your girls live far away. Huh, kind of convenient, isn’t it?” Eddie asks. “They’re probably as real as the damn hair on top of Higgin’s head.”

“Hey!” Wheeler shouts.

“That’s bullshit!” the boy who must be Henderson shouts at the same time.

“You guys are letting him change the subject,” Jeff says. “When are you going to ask her out?”

Instead of giving an answer, you can hear Eddie grumbling under his breath the closer they get to you. It won’t be long now before they’ll walk past the wall and see you sitting on the ground. Waiting for a ride is easy enough to explain, but the tear tracks running down your face are a different matter. 

Before the group of guys can get any closer, you carefully push yourself onto your knees. Balancing yourself against the wall with one hand, you seek out somewhere you can hide. The corner of the wall is pretty far away, you’d never be able to crawl there fast enough. If you stand up though, you could walk that distance. Realizing crouching down so far is going to kill your back, you push up to your feet and keep your torso and head low as you speedwalk to the corner of the wall. 

Luckily, it’s just a grassy lawn on the other side of the wall, so you throw yourself down on it and catch your breath. Unluckily, you hear the piercing whine of your brother’s car pulling up towards Hawkins High. Fuck. Of course he comes now. 

You peek out from your safe space around the wall and see that Eddie and the rest of the Hellfire gang are climbing into Eddie’s van. A rush of breath leaves your lungs and you’re sure your adrenaline is about to come crashing down.

Your brother pulls up to the curb and you push yourself off of the grass and quickly slide into the passenger’s seat. 

“Uh, you okay?” your brother asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Fine,” you huff. “Just go.”

Like the piece of gum you’d stepped in last week, the sharp pains in your heart stay with you much longer than you’d like. The next day, right before last period, you’re at your locker, switching out your books and hoping your eyes don’t look as puffy as they feel.

“Uh, hey.”

The voice makes you jump and drop your biology book. You don’t have to turn around to know who it is; you’d know that voice anywhere. It’s just never been so close to your ear before.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry,” Eddie says as he bends down to pick up your book. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“No, it’s okay,” you manage to say as you turn around to face him. “Thank you,” you say as he gives you your science book back. 

Eddie clears his throat and glances over his shoulder before looking back at you—or rather, your shoes. Curious, you follow the line of sight where Eddie had just looked, and you see the curly-haired boy from Hellfire peeking around the corner. Henderson. As soon as he notices you looking, he pops back out of sight. 

“I, uh,” Eddie says as he finds the courage to meet your eye. “Hey.”

“You said that,” you say with a shy smile. “But then I freaked out, so…hi.”

The smile Eddie gives you isn’t his biggest by far, but it still makes your knees go wobbly. 

“You’re in band, right?” Eddie asks, reaching up and scratching the back of his neck. 

“I am.”

“Yeah. So, I was wondering if maybe after the game this Friday you might want to grab a bite to eat? With, um, me?”

The world freezes around you, time completely stopping. Your body is locked in place as you stare at Eddie with wide eyes. He just asked me out, you think. Why would he ask me out? He thinks that other girl is beauti—holy shit. I’m the beautiful girl he was talking about? This defies all that you thought you knew in the world. Is this a parallel universe where guys actually like you back? You realize you’ve just been staring at him since you spoke.

“Yeah. T-That sounds nice,” you say.

“Really?” Eddie’s eyes light up and your heart comes to a halt inside your chest.

“Yes,” you say with a small chuckle.

“Wow. Awesome. Okay, wow.” His disbelief shocks you. How in the hell was he afraid to ask you out? You’re just…you. He gives you a wider grin now before tugging up the sleeve of his leather jacket. “Do you have a pen?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah!” You grab a pen from your locker and write down your number on Eddie’s pale skin, right below a colony of inked bats. 

“Great,” Eddie says as he pulls his sleeve back down. “Um, I’ll wait in the gym after the game?”

“Sure. It’ll only take me a few minutes to change and get everything put away.”

“Awesome,” Eddie says again, and seeing him acting this nervous just tickles you pink. You’re not sure you’ve ever heard him say “awesome” before and now he’s said it twice within the last minute. “I guess I’ll see you in English tomorrow.”

“Sounds good. Oh, Eddie, wait. You’re going to go to the game?” You raise your eyebrows in disbelief. “I thought you hated basketball.”

“Oh. Well, I do,” he says with a chuckle. “Easier to take you out after the game if I’m there, though. And, uh, you know, Sinclair’s been bugging me to come see him play.”

“Right,” you say. 

Eddie’s cheeks turn a light red as he gives you a bashful smile. 

“See you later, beautiful,” he says. He doesn’t give you time to even react to his words before he’s heading down the hall. 

“Holy shit,” you whisper to yourself. “I make Eddie nervous?”

A jovial giggle slips past your lips as you close your locker. You feel like you owe the Hellfire guys a thank you. 

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #request

[demonicbaby666]

You’re Mine

One shot | Marvel Masterlist | Masterlists

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!Reader

Genre: Smut

Words: 1.5k+ 

Warnings: 18+, minors DNI, jealousy, fingering, daddy kink, asphyxiation, sort of public sex being that people are on the other side of a door...

Summary: Natasha has always had a thing for you being hers and only hers. It's one of the things you love about her. However, it's impossibly hard not to rile her up because of her tendency to get overprotective and possessive. This time, you may have pushed her too far. So much so that she takes matters into her own hands with a lot more urgency than what you're used to.

A/n: my finger slipped and turned my laptop's whore mode on xxx

Emerald eyes were glued to the hand on your thigh. Of course, Maria hadn't meant to stir the pot when she'd harmlessly laid her hand down. Someone had made a joke, and after a series of light slaps, her hand just settled. It wasn't uncomfortable initially, but as Natasha's eyes continued to bore into you, it certainly was.

The next thing to do was to simply move Maria's hand away. Yet, there was something so satisfying about Nat's flushed face, reddening from anger, and her auburn hair that seemed to burn brighter similarly that - you didn't care to admit it - made your stomach tense in the best of ways. Was it a good idea to egg her on? Of course not. That didn't stop you from leaning into the casual contact from Maria. The lonely hand on your knee was soon joined by yours.

If Natasha wasn't pissed off before, she sure as hell was now, and you couldn't blame her. It would have been too much for anyone to handle, what with the exaggerated laughs, nudges, and non-existent space between you and Maria. You served up a platter of green and practically spoon-feed envy straight into Nat's mouth, which was now clenched together.

"A word outside," Nat said, suddenly standing above you. The veins in her neck were strained and pulsing; her nostrils flared as heaved breaths racked through her whole body. The tight-fitted shirt she wore rose and fell plain as day, and from this sight alone, you realised you may have pushed too far.

Not waiting for a response, Natasha grabbed your wrist, pulling you up and out of the room - ignoring the following sets of eyes.

Once you were away from said prying eyes, the older woman had you backed against the wall in an instant, eyes of fury scorching through you.

"You think I'd let that slide?" She seethed, wrapping her fingers around your throat, "Do I need to remind you that you're mine?"

The tight, possessive coiling of her fingers burned down your chest and ignited a fire between your legs. Nat had never been shy about where she stood on you getting comfortable with others. Even mentioning previous relationships would have repercussions. Often, these were reminders of how said relationships lacked vital things only Natasha could give you, i.e., the ability to walk the next day.

"No," you squeaked.

"It's obvious I do," Nat growled, sliding a hand between your bodies and roughly palming your breast.

The beginnings of a moan caught in your throat as the auburnette squeezed her fingers tighter around your neck. In some ways, you knew it would boil down to this, though you expected the display of dominance and ownership to come later in the night, when everyone was fast asleep, and no sound made would penetrate the alert ears that filled the room the other side of the wall.

You tried pleading with her, "Nat, they'll hear."

"Let them," she said, her lips inching closer to your ear, "It seems they also need a reminder of who you belong to."

"Nat," you attempted again before you were cut off by the sharp feel of her teeth biting the flesh under your ear.

With her hand still firmly holding you against the wall, airways fighting to get oxygen in, she lowered her hand down your ribcage and cupped your clothes cunt. Adrenaline coursed through your veins, knowing what was to come. It would have been easy for you to say stop or to have pushed Nat away entirely, but excitement was bubbling under the surface, and a large part of you wanted this. To be owned. To be claimed. To be reminded of what happens when you forget your place.

"You want daddy's fingers, don't you?" She muttered into your ear, her tone low, her voice raspy.

"Yes," you shamelessly breathed out.

In one quick move, your body was flipped, face pressed against the wall and hands on either side of your face. One of Natasha's hands held your hip in place, the other slithered between the wall and your stomach, slowly moving south. Deft fingers trailed a line up your thigh, reaching the waistband of your panties and wasted no time delving into the sticky mess she'd created.

"Did having Maria's hands all over you do this?" Nat asked, the disdain in her voice evident.

Having her so close to where you needed, yet refusing to appease your growing desire, had you shaking your head and wriggling your hips, trying to position your clit over her stubborn fingers. However, Natasha was unrelenting and moved her hand away entirely, resting on your jaw and yanking it back so you could face her.

"Tell me who your cunt belongs to," she demanded.

Behind the anger and lust that donned her eyes, once light sage, the shade of dark juniper, you saw a hollowness that encircled and sought to wreak havoc on the one certainty she held sacred - you. Of course, you had always made it clear that you were hers and she was yours, but despite her tough bravado, sometimes she also needed to be reminded. After all, the avenger was only human.

"You," your voice crackled in your throat, desperately trying to remain quiet yet sure in your words when all you wanted was to be mercilessly fucked against the wall, "you, you and only you."

"Good girl." she pecked the underside of your jaw. A smirk lined her smooth, balmed lips as she did so.

You could have cried with joy when Natasha released you and trailed her finger back down to your underwear. Instead, you settled for a soft moan of gratitude when you felt the pressure radiate off your body and the beginnings of lazy circles drawn over your clit.

Despite the urgency that flooded through you and the precarious place where your body was being taken, Nat showed no signs of being in a rush. The languish exploration of a place she knew all too well was still being undergone after gruelling minutes. A complaint had touched the tip of your tongue so many times, and as if the older woman knew when it was coming, she'd give you the tiniest taste of relief and settle back into the depth of endless torture.

It was too much. A lump was caught in your throat, your bottom lip was sore from the firm bite of your teeth, and your body fought to keep itself upright and steady while simultaneously trying to remain docile.

"Please, daddy," you begged, rucking your hips for the hundredth time, "Fuck me."

Immediately, you sensed the change in Nat's stature. She stood taller and closed the space between your bodies, pressing her chest firmly to your back and pushing you further into the wall. The cold paint was welcome against your flushed cheek and cut your gasp off short.

This newfound calm would only last a millisecond before two fingers penetrated the junction between your legs, and a fire set ablaze every living cell in your body.

There was no need to move anymore because the expeditious pace and vigour of Natasha's talented fingers left you sated - in addition to clouding your conscious mind. The only task necessary to focus on, thanks to the body and hand holding you in place against the wall, was breathing.

"Say it again," she ordered.

The moment her thumb made contact with your throbbing clit, a bolt of lightning plummeted through your spine and forced your neck to snap back with a silent whimper. Thankfully, the avenger's quick reflexes came to her aid. She moved her head in time for the back of your head to crash down on her shoulder. The thudded contact would have been painful had it not been for your senses being somewhat preoccupied with the brain-numbing ecstasy that was reaching its peak.

"Fuck me, daddy!"

Careful to make sure the force of her body would be enough to keep you upright, the auburnette wound her arm around your body and placed her hand firmly around your neck. Everything around you faded and ceased to exist; the floor beneath your feet was gone, and you were floating on cotton clouds. You dragged your nails down the wall in an effort to grasp onto something tangible. Instead, the mix of the dulled scratching sounds and emptiness in your palms left you increasingly consumed by the ethereal feeling of pure, unadulterated pleasure.

"I'm going to come, daddy," you cried out, surely extracting a snigger from someone on the other side of the wall, "Please keep going."

"You're mine," Natasha uttered into your ear, squeezing the sides of your throat harder. She ran her thumb faster over your clit, curved her fingers at the end of each thrust, and within the next few seconds, the stars in your visions illuminated a blacked-out night sky.

"Mine."

When you regained the ability to see again, you spun around and crashed your lips to Nat's. It took her by surprise, though quickly enough, she reciprocated and poured every ounce of love she had into the kiss.

"I'm yours," you whispered softly against her lips, "and only yours."

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#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff #marvel #marvel fanfiction

[lunargrapejuice]

midnight chimes

astarion x reader/tav | 1.5k words

warnings: hurt/comfort, no pronouns used, lots of pet names, mentions of astarions trauma, post act two confession

astarion was used to long nights and even longer days. he was used to the nightmares that plagued his meditation under the sun or moon, the unease that seemed ever constant growing louder in the silence of his mind, but this.. this was new and was already proving to be bad for his newly beating heart.

in two hundred years he had not needed to fear the loss of someone else, whether that be in death or by choice, but these days it had been an ever constant on his mind and when his thoughts would not leave him be, he had no choice but to listen to what they told him. 

was what he felt between you so fragile? like a fraying thread tying you together that one small tug could snap. or perhaps it wasn’t there to begin with, nothing more than bits of fiber in his hand that you had no use for, that was impossible to grab onto.

after all how could he argue what was undeniably in front of him? the truth that he has absolutely nothing to offer you, not even his body. that he does not deserve your kindness and it was only a matter of time until you would realize it too. the ticking of the hours he counted until this was going to end not enough to drown any of it out and even if it was, he can’t imagine it would make it any better.

thinking of how little time he might have left with you, this feeling of safety that he had not dared dream of having, being cared for and having something to care for in return, kept his heart in his throat. every passing day when you continued to choose him, every choice you made that went against the actions he had seen done by others and done himself for so very long, he wanted to hold onto you tighter and tighter, show you the same safety and care, and continue to make you smile.

it was a want he felt so strongly that it had brought him to tell you the truth of his actions with you thus far despite the worry that it would hurt you enough that you’d hate him for it or that you prove to be like so many others. when you told him you cared for him and held him in your arms, like a strike of a match he felt a spark of his heart that hadn’t beat in centuries and every day since you had kindled it tenderly.

but was it only a matter of time before his freedom and everything it came with all comes to end? 

he tries to swallow the tightness in his throat, to think about anything else even if just for a moment, attempt to listen for whatever the others in camp were doing before heading into their tents to distract him when he hears your familiar steps growing closer and closer to him until they stop right outside his tent.

laying on his back, he peaks through one eye at the small slit in the opening of his tent illuminated by the fire light and sees the bottom of your legs, hesitant in their next step, one foot rubbing against the ground anxiously. so close and yet so far.

“if you want to sneak up on me darling i’m afraid you’ll have to do far better than that.”

you startle at his words but welcome them all the same. they broke you from your own worried trance that had left you restless since you and astarion said goodnight and his voice, covered in silk and amusement, made you sigh out a small laugh that released some of the tension in your chest. yet you heard something else behind them, something he tried to cover up that could have been successful if perhaps it had been anyone else.

“may i?” you tug at the opening of his tent and offer him a sweet smile when he pulls it open for you to join him with a motion of his arm and a soft grin on his own.

“hello, my dear.”

in anticipating silence you settle next to him, every moment with your heart echoing in your ears you have no doubt astarion can hear it too. it feels silly to be this nervous, you could almost laugh out loud with your bubbling nerves but the longer you’re in his presence, the more your resolve is sealed to ask what had been on your mind for a few days now.

“i hope there’s nothing troubling you?” he tries to will away the strain to his voice but it’s heavy on his tongue as he waits for the end of this between you, a very possibly reality unfolding before him. surely that's what was happening.. right?

you meet his eyes, the warmth of your cheeks evident in the weak aura of light coming in from the dimming fire outside the fabric that separates you two from the rest of the world and even though it still feels like his heart is stuck in his throat, his worries have began to fall from his shoulders and seep into the ground below, dulled in the shadows of your light.

“no, not at all! i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to worry you,” you shuffle a little closer to him so you're facing him fully but not yet touching him. you could if you wanted, not even an arms reach away was the softness of his white curls that you wanted to run your hands through but for now, you waited and let his round ruby eyes guide the words you wanted to say much smoother than you actually did out. “i - i want to ask.. would it be okay if we could start, maybe, sharing a tent? i mean - only if you’re comfortable of coure! and it’s fine if not! i - i don’t mean anything sexual, i just want to be closer to you but..”

you continue talking without taking a single breath but the words are nearly lost on his ears and when your eyes break from his, he closes the distance between you. slightly chilled fingers caressing your cheek and bring your gaze back to his, feeling the heat of your skin and the beat of heart under his fingers.

your words die down quickly, just how he hoped his touch would cause, and with awaiting wide eyes, you look up at him, your lips falling into an adorable pout when, for a moment, he just stares at you.

“you sweet little thing,” he coos, voice deep and affectionate, rubbing his thumb along your cheek and feeling it blossom a tingle that went up his arm and through his chest when you lean into his touch with fluttering lashes. “if you wanted a cuddle every night all you have to do is ask.”

when your eyes open again they’re full of the same caring and mirthful emotions that are laced in your every word. “well this is me asking for your cuddles every night then,” you can’t help but smile and feel the butterflies in your stomach flutter under his attention and the way he very clearly loved hearing you say it. finally you reach for him in return, inching closer to each other until you are forehead to forehead, sharing every breath. “but only if you feel okay with that too.”

before you can get lost in your words again, he leans in and on bated breath you bask in the feeling of his kiss on the corner of your lips, the fingers cradling your opposite cheek a comforting feather light touch.

“i would love nothing more than to hold you each night my dear,” his words are quiet, honest, and sealed with a kiss you sighed happily into. with a flush to his pale cheeks, his voice is playful as he pulls away, “honestly, i’m surprised it took you this long to ask.” his grip on you tightens, his free around wrapping around your waist to pull you nearly flush against his chest. “you are rather insatiable for me, aren’t you? though i can’t say i blame you.”

as you giggle and shake your head, rubbing your nose against his, you have no choice but to follow him pulling you down on his sheets and into his arms with a surprising amount of strength. astarion held you close, your legs laced together, face to face on his pillow, comfortable in each other's embrace, the tips of your fingers caressing the edge of his ears and the white curls that tickled your skin.

you share another kiss and another, each one soft and unhurried and when you finally do pull away, you can hardly breathe at the sight of him so comfortable and vulnerable with you. a different kind of beautiful than when he smirks with confidence in the radiant sun but leaves you with a wildly beating heart all the same. he looks a little younger, a little lighter and you can only hope to see more of him like this. 

#astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 x reader #astarion ancunin #astarion ancunin x tav #astarion ancunin x reader #baldur's gate 3 x reader

[kissyghosty]

Requesting on my knees a Jealous Ghost fic where he and reader have a situationship but he refuses to go pass the fwb stage. In swoops in Konig (in all his 6’10 glory) where he is just being all sweet and soft to reader - major difference from our gruff Ghost. The gentleness of Konig surprises reader and starts making her shy around him which ofc goes noticed by Ghost.

Ghost then goes feral and pulls reader back in - cos I just know this man is highkey possessive 😳🙏😫 you may decide if Konig is in to reader or not

me: haha this will be like 500 words

also me: [foolish, as this nearly hit 1.5k]

here is the ao3 link for this!

“You’re mine, you know that?” Ghost grows in your ear in the middle of the roughhousing. Even through the fog currently blurring your thoughts, you can hear the possessiveness in his gravelly voice. He’s plastered to your back, grinding down onto your ass in just a tease of what could--and likely would--happen.

Throughout the entire duration of your coupling, you do your best to show that you are his and only his. He grabs you roughly, moving you around like you weigh nothing at all, even for your stature. To him, you probably don’t, you think in the aftermath, the both of you struggling to even your breathing as you tuck into each other.

You’d be content to stay like that. Just the two of you sharing each others’ touch and warmth. You would even dare say you wanted it, just to anyone but the man himself.

“Just tonight?” You beg as he finally peels himself away from you. With how disconnected he feels so soon, it’s as if he hadn’t crawled to you in damn near desperation mere hours ago. “Please?”

Through the mask plastered to his face, you can still see his eyes darken. He doesn’t say anything audibly, but the notion isn’t left unnoticed. You’ve heard all the excuses from him before: ‘We can’t be caught together.’ ‘I don’t want to be a weakness to you.’ The countless times he’s mentioned something about ‘not deserving it’, even though he is here and he most certainly does deserve to be cared about and loved on. 

Reluctantly, you turn your back to him on the bed. He never says anything after deterring your begging. You never press, either. Still, it hurts, a tangible and heavy weight in your chest that feels an awful lot like rejection.

He slips out the door without another word.

*-+-*

Ghost keeps his distance from you after your little trysts. Purposefully tasking himself with paperwork or training or going on missions for what feels like just the sake of being away from you. 

That’s not true, your mind supplies. He’s just used to being busy. Give yourself some credit.

In the cafeteria, you sat in your usual spot, away but not far from the others, just on the outside of the group, enough that you felt social without actually interacting with anyone else. You pretend you’re engrossed with the pitiful meal in front of you, not noticing when someone approaches.

“Ah, pardon,” an accented voice interrupts your thoughts. “Do you mind if I sit here?”

You’re already saying the words before you think about it. “Not at all.” Realizing you just reflexively allowed a stranger near you,, you look up to take in who has decided to give you company and nearly gasp out loud. If you weren’t feeling shy and humble before, you certainly do now.

One of the KorTac recruits, if the patch for the company means anything. He towers over you, more so than Ghost does. The only detail you can see about his face is his eyes. Where Ghost’s eyes feel like they pierce into you when he looks, his eyes are soft and gentle. Judging by the way he’s holding himself (a respectable distance from you, still, veiled head tilted like a curious and inquisitive dog waiting to hear a keyword), his entire self is one gentle giant.

You gesture for him to sit. He does so, across the table from you, carefully settling down instead of haphazardly throwing himself onto the bench like most everyone else does. He hesitates to move any further, anxiously wringing his hands until you realize you’ve been staring. “Sorry, I…” you scramble for an excuse, but you have none.

This guy is simply absurdly attention grabbing. 

“It is alright,” he sheepishly brings one hand to rub at the back of his neck. “I understand that my stature may be somewhat of a shock to some.” He sounds damn near apologetic, like he had a choice in whether he was to be 6’10 or not.

“I think most of us are just surprised to be put in our place by you.” A palm comes up to rub your eye, needing to move to get jitters out of your system without being obvious. “You’re taller than the lieutenant, even. That’s impressive.”

As if summoned, Ghost stalks into the room, grabbing a tray and slinking over to sit with his subordinates. When you look away, you can still feel his eyes glaring daggers into you. The realization hits you like a train and you have to bite back a laugh.

That son of a bitch is jealous of you talking to the new guy.

“Is something wrong?”

“Oh, no. I, uh, just realized I never properly asked for your name, is all.”

“Of course,” he murmurs warmly. “My name--or, callsign, at least--is König.”

“Very fancy,” you stutter back. Good lord, König’s callsign is translated into ‘king’. It seems contradictory for someone so unwilling to grab attention. “It sounds nice, too.” Your eyes slide over to look at Ghost again. A smile splits your face when you can see the furrow in his brow as his glare deepens. Someone must ask what’s wrong, because he whips his head to seethe at them instead before standing up stiffly and walking away.

“Um,” König interrupts gently. “Is something wrong, friend?”

The way he says it must make your face color, because he ducks his head nervously, an apology already on the tip of his tongue.

“Nothing’s wrong,” you finally find your words. “L.T. is just taking interest in us talking. He must still be wary of you, somehow.”

“He seems very distant,” König ventures, speaking quietly as if Ghost would be able to hear over the commotion of the room. “Judgemental, even. I will admit, I am somewhat wary of him myself.”

You shrug. “It’s understandable with him. He doesn’t exactly make it easy to get to know him. He has his reasons, though.” When you look up from dazedly staring at the table, König’s eyes are wide and aimed behind you.

“Reason for what?” Ghost’s gruff voice comes from behind your back. You’re not sure if he’s trying to hide the angry tone to it, but if he is, it’s failing horribly. You turn around only to see Ghost glaring into König as if he wasn’t an ally but an enemy instead.

“A reason for you being so moody,” you scowl up at him, his eyes meeting yours. Oh, there’s absolutely something hidden in their depths: anger, contempt, and that same twinkle of jealousy you saw earlier. “You don’t exactly explain to others why you’re so goddamn hostile for no reason.”

“I have my fuckin’ reasons,” he growls. “And those reasons don’t need to be shown to people that don’t need to know them. Understood?”

König nods apprehensively, moving to gather his things and stand. “I should--uh, be going.” He nods his head to you and Ghost nervously. “It was very nice to meet you both.” Without another word, he strides away, not looking back, head hunched down into his shoulders.

You turn in your seat to give Ghost his own taste of a glare. “What’s your problem? He’s new; I didn’t want him to feel like an oddball by being rude to him.” You huff. “Though it seems you have no issue with it.”

Ghost stubbornly doesn’t respond. He never does when you call him out for things like this. Instead, when you turn away to continue eating, his gloved hand settles on your shoulder and grips, startling you. “He was getting too comfy with you,” he grunts petulantly. 

“He’s new,” you retort. “He needed someone to be comfy with, asshat.”

“I don’t think you understand.” Ghost voice is right in your ear now, making you involuntarily shiver. “More comfy than I wanted him to be. Do you need a reminder of who you belong to?”

Even with the warmth settling in your chest, you’re not fazed. “Dunno. You don’t exactly act like I belong to anyone, let alone you.” A low jab, for sure, but you were still irritated by the exclusively friends-with-benefits situation Ghost seemed to think you two had.

Ghost hums lecherously. “You want a reminder? Be at my quarters at 1900. I’ll do a thorough job of reminding you that you belong to someone.” With that, he stands straight and pats your shoulder as if he hadn’t just promised to meet you alone in his room later that evening. “In the meantime,” he says nonchalantly, “be ready for--what is it you wanted?--an overnight stay.” 

#ah christ i hate tagging #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #König #he makes an appearance and is v sweet. i do love him #mw2 #cod mw2 #requests

[2-sleepy-for-this]

Our little brother pt.4

here it is folks! Finally I’m back and writing for my surprisingly popular au :)

Sorry I took so long to post, but the hiatus is done. I’m pretty stressed at the moment though so fics may take longer than usual..

Now without further ado…

tw~ panic, dehumanization (??), unintentional fearplay, having a crisis

word count~ 1.5k

Wilbur was panicking. Sunshine was gone, and he had no clue how it had happened. He could’ve sworn they were in his pocket the whole time, but somehow the little escape artist had gotten lost…

Techno will be suspicious if he isn’t at the apartment in a few minutes… but how can he go without the small creature? Techno will know he screwed up immediately.

Wilbur continued to search the halls, but with the few people still lingering, it was difficult to not draw attention. He didn’t care much, but he had the feeling that he didn’t want anyone else to see Sunshine… he didn’t know why, but it just felt wrong to reveal them to anyone else.

“C’mon, little guy… where are you?”

He whispered, more to himself than anyone else. They couldn’t have gotten so far… with how tiny Sunshine was, it was hard to believe they could have gotten far or… hopefully not out of the building. The outside was frosty with a chill in the air. Wilbur shuddered at the thought of Sunshine being out there, lost again.

… then Dream walked up to him. 

Now, Wilbur didn’t dislike Dream but… well, he kinda did. Not for any reason in particular, but Wilbur just didn’t like the more extroverted guy. Wilbur was surprised that Dream had come up to him with such purpose until… the color yellow in the corner of his eye. 

It was Sunshine! Right there… in Dream’s hand.

Wilbur gasped slightly as he looked at Sunshine.

“Sunshine! You’re.. you’re alright.”

He said happily and reached out to grab them from Dream. He snatched up his sunshine from the other hold and held them against his chest in a makeshift hug. He didn’t notice the minuscule trembling of the tiny body in his palms.

Wilbur looked at Dream. He wasn’t even thinking in the moment as he glared.

“Dream..”

He greeted the shorter coldly.

Dream had the decency to look slightly sheepish.

“Uh.. hey, Wilbur… sorry about the surprise, but, uh, I found Tommy on his own and heard he was looking for you so…”

Dream tried to explain, but Wilbur stopped listening after that. Tommy? His Sunshine had a name? Had Dream given it to him?

Wilbur looked down at ‘Tommy’ with a confused look. The small thing looked up at him with a wide eyed one. 

Wilbur had never noticed the little shine in his tiny blue eyes before… he looked so human.

Dream was still speaking and Wilbur thought he should tune back in to that. He might be saying something important about.. Tommy.

“-and then he said he was looking for a ‘Wilby’ but I knew he was talking about you. I mean, who else would have that yellow of a hoodie on, right?”

“Says the guy in bright green..”

Wilbur shot back, not appreciating the fashion slander before processing what was just said.

“Wait- said? He.. can speak?”

Dream looked surprised for a moment before raising an eyebrow.

“Uh, yeah? You… knew that, right?”

Wilbur looked at Dream before lying.

“Of course I did! I’m not saying- he just-… yeah..”

Dream looked unconvinced at that stuttered answer, but Wilbur didn’t care. Right now, he just needed to get Tommy home and figure out whatever he just heard. He sighed.

“Look, Dream, you can’t tell anyone about this, okay?”

“…I get that.”

“Good… now I’m gonna take.. Tommy.. home, see you later.”

Wilbur walked away without hearing Dream’s reply… he couldn’t help but feel like the little weight in his hands felt a lot more.. real to him than before.

———————————

Tommy was anxious… more than anxious, terrified even. 

He was back with his previous human captor, back in the hands that took him from his secretive borrower life… 

But now… now he knew. The one thing he had control over, his voice. The human, Wilbur, as Dream has said, knew he could talk now… what would he do? Would Wilbur force him to tell him everything about borrowers? Tell the pink haired human about it? 

Wilbur knew his name now… 

And what could Tommy do about it? Nothing…

He was out… he had escaped; he was gone away from everyone…

He was caught.. twice now. He was a terrible borrower.

Tommy was deep in his self depreciating thoughts when he felt the prodding of a giant finger he started to get familiar with. He was nervous. He looked up at Wilbur and met his gaze. Wilbur was looking down at him, conflicted, before opening his mouth to speak.

“I… I’m gonna put you in my pocket now… alright, Tommy?”

Wilbur spoke his name… gave him a warning before doing something to him…

He kinda liked it…

Tommy nodded slowly and watched as Wilbur still looked shocked at Tommy actually acknowledging his words.

Then Wilbur gently placed his hand into the joined pockets of his hoodie and shielded Tommy with the yellow fabric of the pocket and the human’s hand. It kept everyone else from seeing even a glimpse of Tommy.

———————————

Wilbur walked back to the apartment in a hurry, trying to get there quickly to not seem suspicious about the amount of time he’d been gone. 

He walked through the door and closed it quietly before carefully crossing the living room space, hoping to make it to his room without being seen and lectured. Then there was the deep clearing of a throat and Wilbur winced, turning to face his twin sitting on the couch with his arms crossed, an unimpressed look on his face.

Wilbur immediately put on a smile of mock innocence. 

“Hey, tech, didn’t know you’d be home so quickly today…”

Techno sighed. That wasn’t a good sign.

“Wil, where’s the thing?”

Wilbur felt the minuscule boy tense against his pocketed hand. Yet he pulled him out into the open anyway.

Tommy looked up at him and then to techno with a wide-eyed gaze, an expression that was a cry for help, surrounded by the two humans.

“Relax, tech, Tommy’s right here… see, I’m responsible.”

He acted like he hadn’t lost Tommy after only a few hours…

Techno sat up straighter and leaned closer to see Tommy, a raised eyebrow and a slightly confused expression on his face.

“You named it already?”

Wilbur looked down at Tommy at the same time the little guy looked up at him. They shared the same anxious look of ‘shoot’. Wilbur had a feeling he wouldn’t be able to convince techno of his findings about Tommy without taking a bit to process it himself. So he lied. Again.

“Uh.. yeah! Yeah, I named him Tommy.. he looks like a Tommy, right?”

Techno looked at Tommy for a moment with an unreadable look before nodding in agreement.

“I guess so. Looks like one to me.”

Wilbur let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. 

“Great.. now, uh.. I’m gonna go to my room.”

Wilbur started tensely walking away before techno stopped him, standing and walking in front of him.

“Aren’t ya gonna put ‘Tommy’ back?”

“Well.. uh.. actually I was gonna let the little guy keep me company for a while…”

Wilbur subconsciously ran his finger down Tommy’s back, not noticing the way Tommy leaned into the touch hesitantly, too focused on acting not suspicious to his very hard-to-lie-to twin.

Techno shrugged and sat back down.

“Alright, but don’t hog the thing. I wanna see it sometime too.”

Wilbur nodded and continued to his bedroom, closing the door a bit too fast for his calm act and walking to his desk. 

He sat in his desk chair, using his one unoccupied hand to shove the sheets of half written music off of his desk. He could clean those up later.

Then he gently set his other hand on the desk, watching intently as Tommy climbed off and took a few scrambling steps away from him nervously.

Tommy looked up at him from the desk in anxiety and confusion.

“Alright… okay, okay, okay… wow..”

Wilbur covered his face with his hands in exasperation with a long sigh before taking a second and looking at Tommy, finally processing everything.

“You… you can.. talk?”

He asked with apprehension.

“Dream said you can talk.. Tommy? You… are you…”

Wilbur didn’t know how to word this the right way…

“You’re sentient?”

——————————

hope you liked this one!

also please tell me if you want to be added to a tag list! (*´∀｀*)

#giant/tiny #g/t community #mcyt g/t #g/t #tiny!tommy #giant!techno #giant!wilbur #our little brother au #<3 #i think this fic is getting good #It’s gettin somewhere

[flo55i]

michael goes with daniel to the hospital 1.5k of Daniel&Michael for the platonic friend fix

“I want you to go with them, Michael.”

It wasn’t a question; Christian was already pulling at Michael’s headset and taking it from his neck, pushing him towards the car idling at the edge of the garage. 

“But Blake can…there are others more suited, surely.” Michael had trailed off. 

The level of emotion outlined in Christian’s severe frown surprised him into giving up whatever he was going to come up with to get out of it. He looked at the concrete floor instead, at the rain still pooling along pit lane, like he was intruding on a private moment. Maybe then he would have been able to swallow the lump in his own throat. 

Daniel was fine, he reminded himself.   

“I want you to keep me informed. Help him keep it together, that sort of thing.” The hand on his shoulder, guiding him out of the back of the garage had felt like a noose instead. 

By the time they are in the back of a car together, the choked feeling has migrated to his chest as Michael can’t work out what is appropriate to say at a time like this. What will be the first thing he and Daniel have said to each other in probably months. 

“How are you feeling then?” Is the generic phrase that he goes with. The last thing he needs is Daniel yelling at him again, accusing him of being unfeeling.

Cold-hearted wanker is the word he actually thinks was used last time. 

“Like I probably should have hit the McLaren instead.” Daniel snorts, and although he’s got his head leaning back against the headrest, Michael knows him well enough to tell that he’s smiling. Even if it’s in sarcasm. 

“I mean, it all happened so fast. I doubt anyone would have blamed you if you did.” Michael tries to assure any lingering guilt. 

“I’ll keep that in time for next time I crash out then, shall I?” 

It’s biting and Michael doesn’t give him the satisfaction of a reply. Eyes on the front, he concentrates on the two doctors who sit up in the driver’s and passenger seats of the SUV—one from the medical centre, the other from RedBull— who are arguing in German about the best way to leave the track. Cameras and fans crowd the vehicle making it hard to see anything out the windows and when Michael turns back, Daniel has his head tilted once more to the ceiling, eyes closed, conversation apparently over. 

He’s not asleep though. The broken arm is strapped carefully tight to his chest but his thigh is jiggling, teeth gritted, yet he still tries to breathe deep through them. It makes a little wheezing sound that has Michael pursing his lips. He wonders how much—if any— pain medication he’d been given so far. 

Not caring about offending Daniel’s delicate sensibilities, or how to approach the stalemate between them, Michael reaches for Daniel’s good wrist to check his pulse. The stupid idiot can rant and rave for all he cares, it’s his job to help.

(He needs to make sure Daniel’s ok.) 

The pulse is consistent enough, considering. Michael checks his pupils too— almost fully dilated, which means he’s running on adrenaline only. 

“Why didn’t you let them give you anything for the pain, you moron? Now is not the time to start playing the martyr.” Michael scolds. Whilst Daniel may have been too tired to protest his manhandling, Daniel bares the censure less gracefully. 

“This isn’t that kind of trip, mate.” And Michael knows the last word tacked on to the end is meant to be mocking. Hurtful. He tries not to let how much show on his face. 

“I know you don’t think I like, have any”, Daniel continues, apparently not done with settling the score, “But somebody’s gotta have at least some sort of control when they’re deciding the future of my career up there.” 

Tilting his head, he motions towards the two doctors out front, who haven’t spoken a word to Daniel about how he’s doing or what to expect since they barked at him to keep his arm above his heart as soon as the door was closed.

But instead of pity, the reminder of RedBull and their exacting levels of control over Daniel’s life has Michael angry. 

“What happened to, it’s nice to finally be with family? People who really care about me?” Michael throws back the words Daniel has been spouting to every tabloid ever since his return to the sport. 

It’s petty but Michael doesn’t care. It had felt like all their years of friendship being thrown back in his face. Still does. Serves the selfish fucker right to feel a bit of that back. 

But Daniel’s not playing that game with him anymore it seems. 

“Got me there!” He jokes. But his head is bowed, smile mocking somehow in its complacency. Michael thinks it might be regret. 

“You were always telling me I never did have the best instincts, right?”

It’s probably the most of an apology he’s ever going to get. And combined with the struggling, broken look Michael swore after last year he never wanted to see on Daniel’s face again, his first instinct is to fix. To make it better like he always has. 

It’s on the tip of his tongue to tell him of Horner’s concerned frown as he’d pushed Michael into the awaiting car to be with him, to help him. But he can’t help but selfishly think of his own feelings still burning away inside of him. 

How Daniel ought to know what it felt like for him as his heart had leapt right out of his chest the second he’d hit the wall. What it felt like for him when Daniel cut him out of his life like that because he dared to offer a different perspective on his life decisions like any good friend would. 

Michael berates himself immediately and wonders when it became a competition between them. An us versus them kinda deal. Him or RedBull. 

Wonders if he was this much of an asshole all along. 

Daniel had asked, he’d answered. No. No, he did not think it a good idea to go back to RedBull. But Daniel had taken it with all the grace and comprehension of an elephant. Accused him of being non supportive when he was only trying to be anything but. Just like he’s trying— failing— to do at the moment. 

Sighing out loud, Michael lets the opportunity to say I told you so go. Lets it all go. Because it’s not about him. Or them. Then or now. 

“Look.” He starts. “They love you so fucking much I have no doubt that they’ve already lined up an IV full of stroopwafles for you. The best money can buy.” 

“Is that so?” Daniel says, practically preening under the attention of the admission. Michael just sees how fragile he looks.

Even when you take away the bandages, the sling, even the bags of exhaustion under his eyes, he knows that cocky bravado is just a front for all Daniel’s insecurities and the things he won’t say. How he’s hanging on Michael’s words to believe him. 

The car comes to a stop. They’re at the hospital now. Michael feels Daniel tense up beside him. He  scoots closer, as if to hide Daniel from the hoards of fans tapping at the glass. He knows they only mean well but they are still demanding time and attention from him now, phones at the ready and already pointing in their faces like weapons. 

Michael moves again to make sure their knees are touching. Smiles when it’s enough to still Daniel’s own. 

“Yeah.” He swallows. “Yeah I do. This is your show, man.” 

“And what if I said I wanted to steal a wheelchair before they start thinking about cutting me open and harvesting me for parts to give to the junior program?” 

Michael looks to where the doctors are already out of the car, shaking hands with someone from the hospital emergency department to greet them in a white coat—obviously another doctor. Someone pretty important with the way three nurses follow in his wake. 

All for a broken arm, Michael scoffs. 

This level of scrutiny, of care, should hardly surprise him. RedBull have invested way too much money into Daniel and his body for them to give up the chance of losing it and the skills it’s cultivated now. He’s not gonna tell Daniel that though. 

From the tone Daniel had used— half-softening the blow from his own depleted expectations, half cautious— Michael is aware Daniel is checking if he’s as committed as he says he is. If he can be trusted with the truth of how scared about this all he actually is. 

Michael knows what to say this time. 

“Then I’ll get you a scalpel to fight back with. Whatever it takes.”  

And he means it. Especially later, as he’s standing back in the paddock, listening to Daniel’s order of events. He’s scowling at Marko for constantly interrupting to find out exactly when Daniel will be back to full function again. 

Daniel plays it up. The grin on his face and the erratic movement of his one, good arm says he’s thoroughly enjoying the way he’s keeping him in suspense. Helmut’s eyebrow seems to climb higher and higher the more Daniel ignores him, continuing his story about when they were plastering his arm. At how lost in translation the word mummy had got and the extra concussion tests they made him do because of it. 

To the side, amongst Daniel’s laughter, Christian slaps Michael on the back and says, “Everything turned out as well as it should then.” 

“Yeah.” Michael agrees softly, leaving it at that. 

Of course he could tell Christian about the way he had to bribe Daniel to get into the cat scan machine— just in case— giving him a running commentary on the topography of his brain like a David Attenborough video to keep him still and calm in the enclosed space. 

Or about the fact that Michael had to fill out all the forms presented to them because he apparently knows more about Daniel’s medical needs and history than he even did. Or their doctor. 

Or even how he ended up calling Daniel’s parents for him to tell them he was fine— not even a concussion, Grace. Not a screw any looser than what it was, I promise— because no one at RedBull apparently had yet. 

But he suspects Christian already knows all this. 

That’s why he sent him, after all. 

Knowing he needs to get back to the garage, to Yuki and his actual job, Michael gives Christian a single, appreciative nod. Giving respect where respect is due to the only other person he trusts here to do what’s best for Daniel and not just a driver for RedBull. 

Coming up behind them, he gives Daniel a conspiratory wink as he interrupts the conversation, “Just so you know, I do happen to own a scalpel.” 

Helmut looks confused. Michael doesn’t care. Simply enjoys the sound of Daniel’s laughter, the way he dares him to whip it out right there in front of their bosses. 

Daniel is fine. 

#look I have no idea what this is #the discord was wondering where all the d&m was and I though I could #but I’m not really sure? #everyone has their own theory on what happened between them #I tried to be diplomatic and assign blame to both #but also vague enough to not get in the way of your interpretation? #idk #I really don’t like the way I changed tense purposefully there at the beginning #but I’m trying it on for size #like michael #michael italiano #daniel ricciardo #daniel x michael #f1 rpf #my fic

[renegadepack]

one of my new year’s resolutions was to have 2k scrobbles a month on last.fm bc well... i fuckin love music ok. well anyways so far this year: january has 1.9k (would have been at 2k if the system didn’t FUCK UP!!!), february has 1.8k, march has 2.6k, and april has 3.3k.

hmm. wander what happened in march/april to make me be home a lot more to be listening to music...

#aaron's sharing #throwback to when i was on lockdown in my apartment without wifi #and literally had spotify going like... ten hours a day #every day #this is who i am as a person #(may has 1.5k so far if anyone cares)

[calummss]

Time | Gilbert Blythe

masterlist

summary: time can fix a lot of things if you let it

words: 1.5K

requested by: anon

It’s been six months since Gilbert Blythe left. Six months without the boy you love so dearly. Six months without your friend. Gilbert had made short notice plans only days after his father’s funeral. When John Blythe died it felt like a never ending fog swept across Avonlea. You remember Mr. Blythe from your childhood. He was a very kind man that took good care of you, so when the news of his passing had arrived at your parent’s house you felt a heavy pit in your stomach. You were saddened by his death and couldn’t imagine what Gilbert was going through and sent him a pie the same day, knowing he would have a hard time preparing food for himself. It has been months since you attended the funeral and you remember it like it was yesterday.

‘Y/N dear, make sure to wear your black straw hat.’ your mother called up to your room.

You grabbed your hat and gently placed it on your head not wanting to mess up your curls. You took one last look in your mirror and hurried downstairs to see your father, mother and younger brother waiting for you. You quickly grabbed your shoes and tied them up.

‘I sure hope Gilbert’s okay,’ you spoke into the room feeling uneasy about the next couple of hours.

‘You’ll be able to see for yourself once we arrive.’ your mother said, adjusting your hat. She placed her hands and your shoulder and smiled.

‘Come one now, the carriage is waiting.’ your father announced and opened the door to reveal a coat of snow that painted the countryside. You stomped through the snow and sat yourself to the far left of the carriage as your mother, father and brother followed. The coachman lightly whipped the horse and you were on your way. When you arrived at the Blythe’s family burial site you saw the carriage that pulled Mr. Blythe’s casket towards the hole. You also saw Gilbert leading the line of people. You saw the pain in his eyes. His sparkly brown eyes were now dull, and glossed with his salty tears. His cheerful smile with those dimples you so loved, disappeared and weren’t to be seen. His posture was slouched and his head hanging from his shoulders on a thread. Your family and you respectfully walked up to the crowd that was gathered for a prayer in honour of his father. You saw Anne, Diana, Ruby, Jane, Tillie and Josie, all spread out throughout the crowd. You locked eyes with Anne and gave her a warm quick smile before turning away. When the service was over everyone gathered at the Gilbert House for some tea and conversation. You stood next to your mother, plate in your hands but you weren’t in the mood to eat. You set it aside and walked around the house to look for Gilbert. He probably needed someone to talk to. Once you searched around the house and almost gave up, you saw him outside in the front yard. You grabbed your coat, scarf and hat and rushed down the front steps.

‘Gilbert!’ you yelled after him.

Gilbert turned around with a surprised face, yet his eyes still carried his sadness within.

‘Are you leaving?’ you pushed your hands deeper into your pockets.

‘I can’t stand being in that house. Everyone wants to comfort me but I just want to be left alone.’ he confessed.

His hat draped over his forehead making it hard to make out his facial expression.

‘Where are you going?’ you asked him as he didn’t seem to stop walking.

‘I don’t know, the lake perhaps.’

‘May I join?’

He nodded and continued to look straight ahead.

After some time you arrived at the small lake in the forest you always went to after school in the summer. Everyone would meet up to bathe in the sun kissed water but everyone was happy and enjoying themselves. Today’s occasion was the opposite. You sat on a tree trunk and pulled your gloves from your pockets. Gilbert sat next to you and stared at the frozen water. He found comfort among the empty woods. You felt like giving him alone time and told him that you were going back to the house. That was the last time you saw Gilbert. Days after he packed his things and left on a ship. He left a note with a few details so that Avonlea wouldn’t erupt in fear of a murder or some sort.

During the first three months you would leave letters at Gilbert’s house in case he came back unannounced; just like he left, but you stopped soon after, after you realised that he wouldn’t be coming back for a long time.

You were peacefully sleeping in your bed when a loud thud awoke you. Your eyes were squinted due to the sun rays shining on your face. You got out of bed and started to get ready. Anne would be arriving any minute now. You always walked to school together. It was safer and more fun. When you rushed out of the door you saw Anne waiting on your doorsteps with an extra bottle of milk. You walked to school and noticed a large crowd gathered in front of the doors. Noticing the rest of the girl you walked up to them to ask what was going on.

‘Ruby!’ you called out and saw her spin around with a big smile on her face. ‘What’s going on?’

‘It’s Gilbert!’ she cheered loudly.

Your eyes went wide as you stared back at Anne. She had the same look painted across her face.

‘What do you mean ‘Gilbert’?

‘My uncle who works at The White Sands Hotel said that Gilbert passed through the place. Supposedly he was working on a ship!’ Ruby’s face was gleaming with joy. ‘He was covered in coal ashes.’

‘Is, Is Gilbert here? At school?’ you asked intriguingly.

‘I haven’t been inside but I don’t believe so. He’s probably at home.’ Diana chimed in.

You had to see him. You just had to. Knowing he was back and not knowing if he’d part again you ran back towards the forest. You made your way through the foggy woods and ran up to Gilbert’s house. You went up to the door and knocked on the door like your life depended on it. A few seconds later a man, whom you’ve never seen before opened the door.

‘Hello, who are you.’ he said in a strong accent.

‘Is Gilbert here?’

‘Yes, he is.’ the man smiled at you before he shouted at the top of his lungs. ‘Gilbert! There’s a girl wanting to talk to you.’

‘I’ll just come in.’ you smiled before slipping through the door.

‘Y/N?’ Gilbert sounded surprised. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘What are you doing here?’ mimicked him.

‘It’s good to see you.’

Gilbert seemed happier than the last time you saw him. His teary eyes were now filled with joy. He seemed...okay, and you didn’t want to take that away from him but he couldn’t just show up and pretend like nothing happened.

‘Why did you leave?’

Gilbert’s back stiffened and shifted onto his other leg. He looked down at the floor not making eye contact with you.

‘Can you at least look at me.’ a hint of disappointment and annoyance coating your words.

‘I needed to get away from here.’

‘You left without a goodbye and you left without telling anyone. Do you know what it feels like? To see your friend leave you behind?’ you raised your voice. ‘You could’ve at least told me. I didn’t know when you were coming back. I thought you left me!’

‘Y/N, I’m sorry but I wasn’t in a good headspace and needed distance from this god forsaken town.’ he stormed past you. The man that had answered the door was long gone. Only the presence of the two of you filled the cold house.

‘Distance from me?’

‘I never said that.’ his irritated voice erupted from the back of the pantry.

‘Sounds like it to me!’ you yelled back, angrily stomping after him.

‘Why are you picking a fight with me, Y/N.?’

‘A fight?’ you stared at him in disbelief. ‘Picking a fight with you? I came over because Ruby was swooning over your return and I came here to make sure it was true. To-see-if -my-friend-who-left-me-without-a-trace-of his-existence-came-back!’ you snapped in one breath.

You had enough and quite frankly didn’t know what to do anymore. The person you loved so dearly had hurt you in a way that you couldn’t understand. Gilbert sat down at his wooden table and stared at you for a few seconds before talking.

‘What can I do?’ he said.

‘What can you do? I don’t know, what can you?’

‘Y/N, I’m serious. I don’t want this friendship to end over this.’

‘You think I want this? I’m just upset that you left me if you hadn’t noticed.’

‘Please tell me what I can do.’ he pleaded out.

He stood up and took your hands into his. His brown eyes stared into your as your breath hitched.

‘I-I don’t know.’ you confess as you slid your hands out of his and turned your back towards him. ‘Nothing can fix this except time.’

You walked towards the door looking back at Gilbert once more.

‘Time can fix a lot of things if you let it.’

#awae #awae imagine #anne with an e #anne of green gables #anne shirley cuthbert #period drama #anne x gilbert #gilbert blythe #gilbert blythe imagine #gilbert blythe imagines #gilbert blythe blurb #gilbert blythe blurbs #gilbert blythe headcanon #gilbert blythe headcanons #gilbert blythe angst #gilbert blythe fluff #gilbert blythe x you #gilbert blythe x reader #gilbert blythe x y/n

[iidylllic]

Erosion 🔸

yandere!zhongli x reader | 1.5k

Somewhere, something has went wrong. Something has weathered and changed within your companion. Now you face the consequences.

tws: kidnapping, yandere, non-graphic sexual content

tags: gn!reader, ambiguous reader, hu tao makes an appearance, reader knows zhongli is morax, not proofread

———

Immovable, he had said. Unbreakable.

You’d stood at the foot of the mountain alongside him as he spun the story of Rex Lapis, with you eagerly taking in every word that rolled off his tongue. Zhongli was like a vast library within the confines of one man.

“Of course, humans only believe that these qualities are true of rock because they lack the lifespan that would allow them to see otherwise.”

———

He’s a sucker for the little things in life. He appreciates them more than anyone you’ve ever met. A skilled eye gazes at the glistening seashell you had pressed into his gloved hand. He usually puts things like these back but you’re not hurt by it. There has to be something noble in preserving the world around you, to take joys from the earth and restore what was taken so that others may also see them. The same can’t be said for his spending habits, which really comes from a place of admiration and feeling as if he needs to reward fine craftsmanship with his patronage.

This time, he slips the shell into his pocket. Promises to keep it safe. Smiles warmly.

Your heart flutters. It’s almost time to start heading back- after all, you ended up deciphering the stone tablets here hours ago. Zhongli had suggested staying a while longer and you had agreed.

As you begin to head towards the nearest village, you notice Zhongli putting his hand in his pocket. Maybe he would throw it out after all, you think.

He doesn’t. He was just checking that it was still there.

———

“I would like to be selfish.” He says breathily. He’s still over you, loose hair draping on your body. His eyes are alight with something otherworldly- they always are. But now they focus solely on you, intense like the summer heat. Instinctively, you turn away.

“How so?”

“By having you,” He admits far too quickly. “All of you.”

“You can certainly have me tonight.” You respond, trying to bypass his implications of a connection deeper than what you were ready for.

You’re a wanderer, you wander. Liyue, and by extension Zhongli himself, will become yet another page in your journal as you move on to the next destination. The two of you are aware of this. Or at least, you hope so.

It doesn’t matter what his origins are. An archon sharing his true identity with you is one of the weirder parts of your journey, though if you keep moving it may end up not being the weirdest out of all your travels. You’ll only know if you try. And maybe you can write to him sometime, maybe he can write back. When you board the ship next week, it doesn’t mean you’re never coming back to Liyue.

He strokes your hair back with a gentle hand and with saddened eyes. There’s one thousand meanings in the touch that you know you’re not catching onto. But, as the blunt head presses up against your entrance, it’s all lost in pure ecstasy.

———

It’s not like him to be so hesitant with his possessions. Master Hu, bless her, asks for the book he’s holding and he pulls it closer to himself, almost reflexively.

“So stingy recently!” She laughs, giving a friendly eye-roll in your direction. “What’s gotten into you, Zhongli?”

He shakes his head and hands her the book slowly, too much care given to a simple book about identifying flowers that you swore you had saw mass produced and up for sale in multiple places. He stands back, steadying himself with one hand on the back of a chair. “I think I may be antsy due to the upcoming departure of our friend here.”

It’s honest. It makes you blush.

Hu Tao turns to you, eyes wide.

“Ay-ya-ya! The time is flying by, isn’t it? Well, we’ll miss having you around the parlour. Remember, it’s never too soon to book in with us! Getting things sorted in advance can really help in the long run.”

You laugh off Hu’s antics and proceed to talk more about where you’re headed to next, and how you have no plans for it to be the afterlife. Zhongli is quiet, seemingly contemplating something.

When he moves away from the chair, you see that there are splintered marks from Zhongli’s nails digging into the wood.

———

It’s like a hoard, you think.

This isn’t where you had expected to wake up this morning. No, you’d expected to be well rested and ready for your long boat trip. Not lost amongst a golden museum of ancient relics. There are windows, but outside the sky is trapped in the early dawn when you had sworn that today Liyue was predicted to be overcast. Most frightening is that it resembles a domain more than anything else. Floating islands, large tree roots, only a light breeze to be heard.

Only one person comes to mind.

“Zhongli?” You call.

As if by magic, footsteps start to echo throughout the hall.

“Yes, my jewel?”

You shudder. It sounds foreign coming from his mouth, especially when he says it so… easily.

He stands, unblinking and attentive.

You need to choose your words carefully, and end up settling on three that make the most sense to you.

“What is this?”

“This,” He begins, taking a moment to gesture to the room around him. “Is where I keep things that are dear to me.”

A broken plate. A vase. A glaze lily. The- the shell?

“Why am I here? I’m… I’m not some relic.”

“Yet you’re still dear to me.”

Perhaps you walked right into that one.

“I’m going to miss boarding the ship, Zhongli. It was nice of you to show me your, uh, museum, but I have to get going.”

Negotiate kindly. Negotiate softly. The poor man hasn’t been himself recently, even Hu Tao picked up on that. Just give him a little time and patience. He isn’t quite used to every human custom yet. Maybe when you truly do have all the time in the world, urgency and deadlines don’t mean as much to you.

His eyes don’t change, they don’t even look away from you. He only starts to move closer, and you end up taking a step back. Did he even hear you at all?

“I’m building you something more extravagant than this, though. I simply needed your help in decorating it so that I could appeal to your tastes,” He says, closing in. His hand wraps around yours. “Come now, I don’t want you to be miserable in your own home.”

Something has changed. Something is wrong. He drags you easily, stopping only when your foot slams into a display case during your desperate struggle. Rope materialises in the air, where he proceeds to tie your hands and feet so that he can carry you instead.

Your protests go ignored. He answers only a few of your panicked questions. You struggle more and he shushes you with reassuring words in a low tone. Frighteningly, he promises to take care of you. To keep you safe.

He guides you gently into a bare bedroom intended for two, seemingly luxurious and spacious despite its lack of decor.

“Until you come to acknowledge the truth, this is where you will be staying.”

He puts you down on the bed. Quickly, you try to sit up and Zhongli reaches out to hold you at your shoulders to aid in steadying your shaking body. Or perhaps to keep you in place and discourage you from moving.

“Just as I prefer the highest quality in all my possessions, you are no different. I can mould you into something better, I can polish you until you shine. Because I love you, dearest, I want the best from you,” He says, removing his hands from you as your restraints vanish. “You can start by apologising for your unwillingness to come here.”

There’s something terrifyingly authoritative in the way he steps back from the bed and folds his arms, expectant of your reconciliation. Fear pools in your gut. You can hear your own thudding heartbeat. You should never have visited Liyue.

You stutter out a weak apology and he weighs it on his mind for a second, closing his eyes. The windows in the room feel too big. Like you’re in a display case yourself. Despite the warmth and light coming through them- a perfect temperature, a perfect lighting- you still shiver.

He opens his eyes and stares down at you once more, adoration filling his gaze.

“I accept your apology. Now, would you rather have the adjacent room be a library or a music room? Take all the time you need to decide, darling. If you really wanted both you could have one here and one somewhere else…”

He muses more about your options but you can barely hear him. It seems that, despite the erosion, rock is still rock. His desires may have changed but his nature hasn’t.

He’s as immovable and unbreakable as ever.

#yandere zhongli #yandere genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #zhongli x reader #yandere zhongli x reader

[nhasablogg]

Four Arms To Wreck You

This fic contains SPIDER-MAN NO WAY HOME SPOILERS, so do not click on the read more unless you’ve watched the movie or don’t care to get spoiled.

*Add a little bit of spice*

Summary: Peter has a dream that Doc Ock tickles him. Then he gets wrecked for real.

A/N: Hey, look at me finishing something! It’s not great, but there’s nothing inherently wrong with it. I tried to take this prompt which isn’t something I would normally write and interpret it as something I would. I hope you like it!

Peter: Tom

Peter 2: Tobey

Peter 3: Andrew

Words: 1.5k

Peter felt himself slipping but never felt himself hit the ground. In fact, the feeling of flying had replaced the fall, and for a brief, perplexing moment he felt weightless, before realizing Doc Ock had grabbed him with one of his tentacles. Funny. He didn’t remember fighting him.

“Surrender, Peter,” he sang, one of the more dramatic villains he’d ever met. He felt old school, in a way. Peter could barely take him seriously, especially not when he was laughing like that as he lifted Peter to the skies.

“I can’t do that,” he said, his voice sounding muffled and far away, which was weird since Doc Ock wasn’t covering his ears or anything. “You’ll never get away with this!”

“Get away with what?” Doc Ock asked just as Peter thought it, because, what? “You better surrender, Peter!” A thundering laugh as another tentacle flew toward him, and Peter screamed even though he never usually screamed during fights.

The weather had turned rainy, but Peter couldn’t feel the drops hit his skin. Wait, where was his suit anyway? And his shirt?

“Surrender, Peter,” Doc Ock said and grabbed his arms, stretching them out over his head in a way that should’ve hurt but only made him panic. His screams couldn’t be heard now. He couldn’t move at all.

The laughter of the super villain logically drowned out his own, because when another tentacle was brought toward him and started dancing over his ribs he felt that it tickled, but he wasn’t sure of how he was reacting. All he knew was that he was stuck, suddenly wet, suddenly pinned against a bed with something warm on his skin, tickling him in a way that nearly felt good-

“Peter.”

He woke suddenly, or so he felt, eyes opening to meet the gaze of Peter 3 who was hovering above him on the couch, one palm on his midriff after most likely having shaken him a bit to wake him.

“Did I scream?” he blurted, remembering a period of nightmare-filled nights not long after Mr Stark had died where May had been forced to wake him nearly each night.

“No,” Peter 3 said, leaning back a bit. “But you were mumbling a lot. You seemed a bit panicked.”

“You did say ‘no’ a couple of times,” Peter 2 added, and Peter craned his neck to see him hovering behind Peter 3. “So we figured maybe you were having a nightmare.” The dream caught up to him. “It was more weird than a nightmare, actually.”

“Oh?” Peter 3 let his hand fall off his waist and moved back to let Peter sit up. “You wanna talk about it?”

“It was about Doc Ock.” They’d restored everything months ago without anyone having to forget about him, and once Peter had figured out how to visit the other Peters he’d wasted no time. It hadn’t been the first time he’d fallen asleep on Peter 3’s couch. “He like- was fighting me, I guess. It was quite confusing. And then he-” He cut himself off, remembering the helplessness, the way he’d nearly felt the sensation. Peter 3’s hand on his skin was probably part of it, he now realized. “He, uh.”

“You’re blushing.” Peter 3’s lips curled into a grin. “I feel that’s a weird reaction to have over a dream about him, though.”

 “Oh, shut up, it wasn’t anything bad.” Peter swung his legs down toward the floor, but he didn’t stand. “He was tickling me, that’s all.”

“In your dream?”

“Obviously.”

“I wouldn’t put that past him,” Peter 2 said, sitting down on Peter’s other side. “And the tentacles would help.”

“They would,” Peter 3 said, nodding. “Did he get you bad?”

“Only for a moment before you woke me.”

“You’re welcome for saving you. Did he hold your arms?”

“You’re oddly interested in this.”

“You’re oddly flustered.”

“Is it odd, though?” Peter 2 was smiling when Peter turned toward him. “I mean, remembering yesterday I think it makes sense that you’re blushing. Not that you have any reason to,” he reassured him. “But I get it.”

Peter couldn’t look at either of them now. “You remember.”

“I don’t really think you wanted us to forget considering you mentioned the dream.” Peter 3 poked his knee. “Come on, don’t be embarrassed. It’s cute. We told you.”

“I think I’m gonna throw myself off a building now,” Peter said, attempting to stand.

“Oh no, you don’t.” The other Peters grabbed his wrists and pulled him back, both laughing, both so gentle in their teasing Peter felt he was on fire. “Relax, we’re not judging.”

“I regret telling you,” he said, leaning back and crossing his arms.

“Do you?” Peter 2 tilted his head, his smile on the edge of amused. Both of them had kind smiles. They made him feel safe, even though the world had been so terrifying when they’d met.

“Maybe not,” he admitted. “But I need you to stop looking at me before I die.”

His confession had taken place sort of out of nowhere. He and Peter 2 had found themselves in Peter 3’s universe, both telling their loved ones they would be back later. They knew time ran away from them. It wasn’t even that they planned to sleep, although Peter had eventually done so after all; the afternoon sun casting shadows on the wall that had gotten printed onto his eyelids as he slowly drifted away. He’d been on an equivalent of a sugar high, which had left him crashing once he’d managed to stop feeling his heart hammering.

A confession over coffee. No one had been drunk. The words had left his mouth with his full permission. Something about their eyes, something about their smiles and the way they listened to him. It had felt right.

The familiar embarrassment had naturally followed, but no agreement from the other two. He was the only Peter Parker with a thing for tickling, but the other Peter Parkers were more than okay with it.

“I kinda wanna tickle you now,” Peter 3 had said after he’d explained, blushed, explained and blushed. “Only if you want me to.”

And Peter had of course wanted him to.

Maybe it had been his way of reminding them it wasn’t just a one time thing by bringing up the dream. He would be totally fine for them to tickle him again, although he was never able to handle the teasing even after Ned having known for years.

The other Peters were laughing at him now; gently, without judgment, but oh so lethally. “Would it help if we did it?” Peter 2 asked, keeping Peter’s pride somewhat intact by not saying the word.

“Ah, I can’t.” He covered his face with his hands, remembering how he’d done the same thing last night, and how their fingers had found his belly instantly.

“We won’t unless you agree to it.”

He peeked out at them. “Oh, that’s not fair.”

“Sure is.” Peter 3 turned his body to fully face him, but he leaned back rather than closer, his grin morphing into a smirk. “You gotta ask us.”

“Come on.”

“No, he’s right.” Peter 2 mimicked Peter 3, sitting cross-legged on Peter’s right. “We can’t do anything until you ask. We don’t wanna cross any boundaries.”

Peter dropped his hands with a groan. “You’re both awful.”

Peter 3 let out a laugh. “Oh, yeah, the way we made you squeal last night? Terrible.”

Peter 2 nodded. “Absolutely horrible people, really.”

“And making you beg? We should be ashamed of ourselves.”

Peter knocked his knee against Peter 3’s. “Oh my god, stop it. Okay, okay, I want you to.”

“Want us to what?”

“Tickle me, okay? I want you to tickle me.”

“Well, why didn’t you just say so?”

Before Peter’s reply could leave his mouth it had been replaced with a laugh, and then another, and soon he was giggling loudly enough for the sound to leave little space for his flailing limbs to fit the room, but they made it work; Peter 2 on his right going for his side, and Peter 3 on his left zeroing in on his neck. He’d realized it was a death spot the night before and seemingly wasted no time.

Peter was in ticklish hell, which was some kind of heaven.

“How’s that?” Peter 3 asked, hovering over him as Peter slid down the couch, his shirt riding up and allowing Peter 2’s fingers to dance over his exposed skin. “Tickles?”

“Y-yes!”

“Good. It means we’re doing something right.”

Maybe he had to thank Doc Ock for giving him a reason to bring it up naturally again, as strange as the dream had been.

#tickle fic #ticklish!peter #ticklish!peter parker #no way home #no way home spoilers #N writes #four arms to wreck you

[mviswidow]

falling

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: cursing, alcohol

Prompt: i was wondering if i could request an imagine?? it’s kind of based off of harry styles’ song ‘falling’ whereas the reader accidentally admits she’s in love with wanda and wanda, having gone through so much heartbreak, pushes the reader away as she’s too scared to get involved with someone again, as all she’s known is loss. so, the two separate a bit until thor talks to her about it because he, too, has shared a lot of heartbreaking moments and shit and it’s not until she’s drunk (lyric: “I’m in my bed, and you’re not here 
And there’s no one to blame
 But the drink in my wandering hands.”) she realizes the mistake she’s made and goes to find the reader to tell them she’s in love with her too :(  IT’S SOME REAL ANGSTY SHIT BUT I FEEL LIKE IT COULD BE SO GOOD. LMAOO. <3 - @cierrascorpse​

Summary: R confesses her love for Wanda. Despite loving her back, Wanda pushes her away, but is convinced to go to R after the two of them have avoided each other for far too long.

A/N: this is my first songfic!! it’s ‘Falling’ by Harry Styles, in case you want to listen to it.

“You’re back!” You ran over to Wanda and hugged her, heart fluttering when she hugged you back tightly.

When you pulled away, she had a bright smile on her face even though she still looked sleepy. 

“Good morning, Y/n,” She chuckled, opening the fridge to get milk for her cereal.

You smiled and grabbed some fruit before sitting on the kitchen barstool and spinning around once or twice, “How did your mission go?”

“Eh,” Wanda shrugged with one shoulder and stuck her spoon in the bowl, nudging her cereal around.

“What happened?” You frowned.

“Nothing, I just made a mistake. Steve’s kind of mad at me,” Wanda sighed, looking up and seeing you with your eyebrow raised. She rolled her eyes, “I wasn’t paying attention and I almost got shot, I got lucky that Steve was watching.”

“Oh my god, Wanda, you have to be more careful.”

“I know, it was just an accident-”

“We don’t have room for accidents. You know better than to make careless mistakes,” You interrupted, shaking your head.

Her brow furrowed, it was weird that you were getting so worked up like this, “Yeah, I do know, and I obviously didn’t almost get shot on purpose, so if you’re going to be like this then I’d prefer you just back off.”

You scoffed as your eyebrows shot up, “Why are you being so defensive about this?”

Her voice raised, “I just don’t get why you care so much-”

“Because I love you!” 

Wanda’s jaw snapped closed and she noticeably swallowed before nodding, “I’m going to have breakfast in my room.”

“Wanda-”

“I don’t think us being friends is a great idea, Y/n,” She spoke softly, trying to keep eye contact for as long as she could.

Tears welled in your eyes and you pushed off the bar stool before making your way out of the kitchen, “Fuck you, too, then.”

---

From then on, the two of you didn’t talk unless absolutely necessary, which basically just meant missions and the occasional odd day where you had to talk to each other for something regarding the team.

It hurt. Really bad. Even looking in her general direction made you want to cry. The team wasn’t oblivious to the fact that there was something going on, they figured it out pretty quickly and it didn’t take long for them all to have found out what had happened.

You ended up spending a lot of time with Natasha. You were already close with her before Wanda rejected you, but you became best friends after the fact. 

Having to sit through meetings while sitting across from Wanda was excruciating. You willed yourself to get over her but she was constantly occupying your mind and you saw her every day, so that was pretty hard. 

Wanda also felt horribly about the situation. She’d never dated anyone before, and she loved you a whole lot, but she knew the last thing you needed was someone like her to come into your life in such a big way and leave mess in her wake.

Her heart raced when you took more than a few seconds to respond to comms and she always found herself looking around for you while out on the field, just to make sure you were okay.

Two months after Wanda had rejected you, the team was pretty fed up with the two of you. They obviously cared about your feelings but you were both way too distracted on mission and careless mistakes were happening more frequently.

That was when Steve gave Thor his own mini-mission of talking to Wanda.

He knocked twice on her door, which had her looking up from her book and opening the door with a swift movement of her fingers, “Thor,” Wanda smiled softly. “What’s up?”

“I wanted to talk to you, about Y/n,” He said as he closed the door, his usually loud voice now quiet and calm.

Wanda’s heart clenched and she bit the inside of her cheek, “Is she okay?”

“Oh,” Thor was now realizing that he might have made it seem like you were hurt. “Yes, she is- well, physically- I mean, it’s complicated.”

Wanda quirked an eyebrow up. The usual eloquent God of Thunder now stumbling over his words like anyone else, “This is about what happened between the two of us, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” He nodded and looked towards the edge of her bed. “May I sit?”

“Be my guest,” She nodded.

“Steve and I were talking about you guys, honestly, the whole team talks about you. It’s been hard to watch you guys like this, but we see the way you still care for each other. I know that you’ve been through a lot, Wanda. Losing family is harder than words could ever begin to describe, I understand that, but that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve happiness and that you can’t love the people you want to love. I see the way you look at her, we all do,” And eloquent Thor was back, apparently. “I just don’t believe you should let this pass you by. She’s a really special girl and she loves you a lot. I think you love her a lot, too, and I think you need each other. That’s all I wanted to say, I guess. I just hope you think about this more- maybe even talk to her when you’re ready, if you are.”

Wanda blinked away the tears in her eyes and nodded, “Thank you, I appreciate it.”

Thor left without saying anything else, and when the door closed behind him, Wanda pulled her pillow to cover her face and groaned. She laid there for a minute before getting up and walking to the kitchen in search of some kind of alcohol. 

An hour and a half later, she was laying on her bed in pajama shorts and a red hoodie that you’d given her for her birthday sulking.

She had half a mind to cry, but she didn’t really like drunk crying, and she was far enough into the bottle of vodka for her judgement to be impaired, but not enough to not acknowledge that drunk crying was the worst kind of crying. 

After months of being without you, she longed to be near you, to have fun sleepovers again, to sneak away from Tony’s parties to go up to the roof or to watch a movie, she wanted you to braid her hair and cuddle her at night and kiss her-

Before Wanda knew what she was doing, she set the vodka bottle on her nightstand and made her way to your room. She stood outside for a few seconds before knocking quickly so she couldn’t talk herself out of whatever she was about to do.

She could hear you laugh from inside your room, “Nat, did you leave something? You were here like- oh.”

Your smile fell when you opened the door and saw Wanda standing at the other side of it, “Do you need something?”

“I’m so sorry,” Wanda said, her voice breathy, her face flushed, that stupid hoodie that made her look adorable, and her hair tied back into a lose ponytail that was so messed up that it could probably barely even be called a ponytail anymore. But you could tell she was drunk.

You had to stop yourself from scoffing, “Well, you’re two months too late, Wanda.”

“I love you.”

“Don’t do this now,” You shook your head, tears now brimming your eyes. You didn’t want to put up with this when tomorrow things would be back to how they had been.

“Y/n/n, I’m serious. I love you so much,” And tears of her own threatened to spill. “I feel so guilty, as I should, but I just- I was really scared, and I thought that I was going to fuck things up for you, and that’s the last thing I wanted to do. I love you. I’ll say it a million times if that’s what it takes to convince you. I want us to happen.”

You sniffled and wiped away a tear that was starting to run down your face. All of a sudden Wanda was starting to sound really sober. “You promise?” Your voice broke, and you bit your lip, willing yourself to not make any noise.

“I swear to you that I love you,” Wanda smiled softly, bringing her hand up to cup your cheek, wiping away another tear that fell.

You leaned into her touch and closed your eyes for a moment before opening them and being graced by a soft smile on Wanda’s features.

“I would love to kiss you now but I want it to be good and not when I’m kinda drunk, so can I just sleep in your room tonight instead?” She asked hopefully, longing to hold you.

“Please,” You nodded and stepped forward, hugging her for the first time in two months. “I missed you so much.”

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff oneshot #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda pls marry me #songfic #falling by harry styles #wlw imagine #sapphic #wlw #marvel #mcu #marvel imagine #mcu imagine

[maraudersftw]

Claudia — this prompt!!!!!!! 💕✨

1. Two characters haven’t seen each other for a while, one keeps rambling about something insignificant and the other one kisses them because “Shut up you’re rambling just kiss me.”

Omg, M, so excited to receive this from you! 😂💜 And I had a blast writing it, so obviously it got long (1.5k words). Thanks for the prompt. Hope you enjoy!

Glittering Darkness

The Butterbeer is a slide of warm froth down his throat, easing up frozen insides brought on by the biting January cold. He smiles, grin stupid on face, hazel eyes bright behind glasses, and listens to Sirius yammer on about Quidditch and teams and players—

“The Canons don’t stand a fucking chance this season, mate,” Sirius repeats for the thousandth time that week, to the audience of Remus’s rolling eyes, Peter’s enraptured gaze and James’s dazed attention. “I have my bet on the Arrows. I mean, have you seen Crossby’s performance lately? Not missed a single bloody snitch so far in. That’s gotta be some kind of record, doesn’t it? Doesn’t it? Oi, Prongs!” he snaps, brows instantly furrowed at not receiving James’s immediate response, no matter that Peter’s vehement nodding probably dislodges the boy’s neck. “Someone throw a Confundus at you? That’s a dumb expression on your face, if I’ve seen one.”

James sighs, leans back, embraces the lovely chatter of his peers around The Three Broomsticks. “I’m just having a good day.”

The boys are instantly suspicious, each choosing to express such emotion with a varying degree of subtlety.

“How come?” Sirius asks, sounding almost put off at not being privy to the answer already.

“Well, I get to spend such a lovely afternoon with you lads. What more could I want?”

“To get laid,” says Sirius, a phrase that is followed immediately by Peter’s loud snort of laughter.

“By a very specific person,” Remus can’t help but add, amusement quirking his mouth in that typical way of his.

“Nonsense,” he waves off, another gulp of Butterbeer tossed back. “I’m perfectly content.”

“Okay, I take it back. It has to be a cheering charm,” Sirius ponders solemnly, just as a group of familiar Gryffindors enters The Three Broomsticks, huddling together as they brush off snow from thick robes and gloves.

Such a sight is by no means a rarity, given that the pub has already been crawling with Hogwarts students since the start of day. But James’s eyes are quick to lock onto a very specific person, a flash of red hair, pink cheeks, bright, bright laughter. No one around him seems to notice the tectonic plates shifting under their feet, nor the way that colour splashes, vibrant and sudden, painting the world afresh. No, they carry on with their conversations and snark as if air hasn’t suddenly become easier to draw in, as if her mere presence hasn’t literally lit up the room. He supposes, after a second of reflection, that she’s indeed his personal cheering charm.

Lily nods to the girls—Mary, Dorcas, Marlene—and points to a booth somewhere at the back. He can’t be arsed to check the exact location; not when it means taking his eyes off a much better alternative. But instead of moving away with them as they take their seats, Lily, curiously enough, breaks off from the group, face blank, easy grace and gait as she meanders off to the loo. Her eyes don’t travel to him, not once.

And yet, James spots that minuscule quirk of lips right before she disappears from view.

Oh.

Very well then.

He’s instantly on his feet, wooden chair scraping back with a loud groan, cutting off Remus mid-speculation as to the reason behind James’s jolly disposition. Three heads turn to him; curious, amused, perhaps even a little concerned.

“Um, you okay, mate?”

“Brilliant,” James replies, feels a thrum of excitement shiver through him, and wonders if it’s openly visible. “Perfectly brilliant. I just need to take a leak.”

“Well, alright, Mr Potter, you’re excused.” Remus laughs.

He takes the time to roll his eyes, but not the effort to dim his smile. It’s probable he looks like a complete loon on a sugar rush, but James truly has never cared about anything less. “Yeah, yeah, have your chuckles, Mr Moony. We’ll see who’s laughing by the end of the day.”

“I genuinely have no idea what you mean, and you sound completely unthreatening with that ridiculous beaming going on.”

James scoffs, walks away from another bout of laughter. “Fuck off.”

The hallway leading to the loos remains mercifully empty; luck that he doesn’t take for granted thanks to the crowd spilling inside the pub. With a quick manoeuvre honed over years of efficient marauding, he pulls out a shrunken invisibility cloak from his robes, enlarges it to its normal size, and disappears beneath the silvery material, feeling its strange softness like a second skin. And then he flattens himself against the wall, scooting around until he’s strategically placed within an alcove near the entrance to the girls’ lavatory—far away enough to give a wide berth to anyone he doesn’t want to alert, but near enough for an encounter with his target.

His target, who he presumes is not nearly as unsuspecting as she’d let on.

It takes only about ten seconds or so before he sees the swish of her robes, witnesses the easy smile on her face as Lily rounds the corner, nose teased red from cold, freckles scattered like stars, and finds the walls of his chest tighten like concrete slabs at the sight.

In a flash of movement, he’s got a hand wrapped around her wrist, sliding to her waist, yanking her firmly against his body without so much as a whispered greeting. Lily’s impulsive screech of surprise dies down the instant the cloak falls over her head, enveloping them both. The tension of her muscles melts away beneath his fingertips, and she’s quick to plant her hands on his chest, brush indelicately closer, space shrinking enough that he tastes the mint on her breath when she speaks.

“Rather indecent of you to accost me like this, Potter.”

He bends down, appreciates the excited gleam in the green of her eyes. His thumb finds her nape, massages gently. “I had something very important to discuss with you.”

“Mm,” Lily purrs. “That’s better. How may I help you?”

“You see,” he starts, chokes slightly when she grinds against him purposefully. “You see, I was just leaving the castle this morning, ready for a lovely outing with my mates, when a witch who looked remarkably like you all but shoved me into a broom closet, declared her undying love for me, and then snogged me into oblivion. And well, you’ve got to understand what that sort of thing does to a bloke’s mental state.”

“Huh,” she remarks, lets her upper lip slide over his bottom one, nothing but a ghost of touch. “I don’t know much about undying love proclamations, but do go on about this snogging into oblivion business, please.”

James drops his head, sucks on the pulse that jumps beneath the skin of her neck. “Oblivion. Abyss. A whole lot of glittering darkness,” he confesses. “And since this witch resembled you—”

“Remarkably,” she moans, soft.

“Remarkably, of course—I thought it only proper to inform you of such an occurrence, y’know, for reputation’s sake. You’ve got that Head Girl image to maintain. Can’t have imposters of you running around making out with the Head Boy. Doesn’t look too good, to be honest. And I’m saying this purely out of selflessness, of course. If, on the other hand, you were to shed some light on this act and admit to...I don’t know...a lack of an imposter, it would mean a whole other thing—”

Lily slams him back against the wall, hand shoving his chest, mouth dangerously close to his. “Shut up, you’re rambling.” She smirks. “Just kiss me.”

And almost as if unable to sustain any patience to allow him to follow the directive, her lips crush over his in a kiss that somehow burns through his every molecule, scorching the very skin he wears, rivalling even the best kiss he’s ever had in his life, which was, incidentally, shared with the same person naught but two hours ago. Lily’s hand curls over his collar, twisting the fabric, giving her purchase to devour him alive. He reciprocates with a tightening grip on her waist, tilting her jaw, slipping his tongue inside to brush over the warm wetness of hers. A mad rush of breath, of gliding mouths and hands and softly uttered moans passes between them, the air under the cloak sweltering despite the cold outside.

Eventually, James wrenches himself away long enough to get the word out; her name. “Lily.”

“Mm,” she manages, lips on his cheek.

“I’m going to need you to spell it out for me.”

The breathless sincerity of his tone gives her pause, and she pulls back, eyes dark and confused. “What?”

“Do you,” he swallows past the cowardice, the thump of his heart. “Is this happening for real? You actually want...me?”

A beat passes, a long one, and Lily stares and stares and stares. Eventually, a smile spills, and he’s reminded of that abyss; glittering endlessly. “Yeah, James. I want you. Wholly. Fully.” She kisses him again, trails the honey on his lips. “I’m just letting you enjoy this outing with the boys, because once we’re back at the castle…”

She’s trailed off, left him to articulate thoughts. “What then?”

Lily grins, glint of teeth so cruelly delicious that it steals his breath, especially when accompanied by the roll of her hips. “I’ll let you fill in the blank.”

#claudia writes #claudiawrites #jily #jily drabble #jily fic #jily canonverse #jily kiss #jily first kiss also I guess #james potter #lily evans #james x lily #jily flash fic #glittering darkness #hodgepodge #mlw10 #claudia answers #asks

[shadamyheadcanons]

Do you have any fic recommendations?

I'm glad you asked! How about seven of them?

Copacetic Buds

by awdorkable_turtle_epidemic

“Peering at the blasted thing she had revealed in an attempt to kill him with its poison, he pointedly frowned when he realized the basket was filled with… flowers.” 1.5K words. [Unbelievably adorable fluff. Very short. Rated G.]

Ups and Downs

by Zehntacles

“Rouge ropes Shadow into going on a date with Amy Rose, while Amy plans to use her date to make Sonic take notice of her. Will either be able to stand the other long enough to get through this night unscathed?” 16K words. [Summary makes it sound typical. It’s not. Eventful, funny, great characterization. Omega’s my favorite! Has a sequel with a great fight scene, too.]

One Hundred Moments

by laineybug04

“These two hedgehogs weren't meant to be together. Everything was stacked against them from the beginning- from her love for another hedgehog to his obligations as an Agent of G.U.N. What does it take for two people to come together despite the odds? How many fleeting and harrowing moments before they can have their happily ever after?” 73K words so far [Oh my god, THIS writer. I LOVE their work. None of the three stories on their AO3 are complete, but I don’t really care because they’re all that good. The connection these two have is really interesting and in-character, and the story’s already really cool. Chaos energy’s handled in interesting ways, too. I can’t wait to see where it goes. Just read it!]

Operation: Love Birds

by KateCake

“Rouge cannot believe her eyes. Shadow the, sulky, moody, stoic, hedgehog has a crush! An actual crush! And on such a cute ray of sunshine! Rouge makes it her mission to set the two up. Even if Shadow tries to kill her. Maybe she can get Omega to help too.” 12K words so far [Confession: this is my favorite ongoing Shadamy story. This author and I are totally on the same wavelength. I love how grumpy and stoic Shadow is while still having a cute crush. I love clever matchmaker Rouge. I really like the little details in there about the hedgehogs’ physicality and body language; the author actually does things with their ears, quills, etc...the kinds of things most writers neglect. Adorable already, and it’s not rushed, either. TONS of potential here.]

Hanging On to Tomorrow

by w0lp3rtinger

“It's been five years since anyone has heard from Eggman. After his last defeat, the world considered him gone, and thus, everyone was safe. The thing about that is when you've spent your entire life fighting, the fighting is never really over. This story focuses on Shadow and Amy while also showcasing the aftereffects of war on the main cast and civilians alike. There's friendship, there's romance, there's despondence, there's comfort, but the most important thing is, as they go through these events, they keep holding on to that edge of tomorrow.” ~26K words so far [Summary says it all. I’ve plugged this one a couple times, and for good reason; it’s intense and has serious, realistic interactions. Best use of tarot I’ve seen in an Amy fic, too. It’s definitely for adults and gets pretty dark at times. It’s really good, though, so give it a shot if you think you can handle it!]

Shadamy Swordland

by shadowsfascination

[~13K words so far. Couldn’t find a proper summary, but I mean...swords. Magic. Action. Shadamy. The lore’s great, too! I’m sure many will recognize it from my reblogs. I may be biased in favor of this one, as it was inspired by one of my headcanons, but this author has plenty of other great stuff, too. Most of it’s a little on the mature side. She and w0lp3rtinger are both buddies of mine, so you may see our ideas rub off on each other at times ;) And last but not least...]

The Oxymoron

by KazunaPikachu

“Shadow liking Amy. Amy liking Shadow. In three words, a sentence is made an oxymoron: where two terms are apparently contradictory, yet somehow, make perfect sense.” [This one. God. THIS ONE. They wind up going on cute dates and falling for each other, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone sum up their personalities and natural compatibility so well. It’s so, SO cleverly executed, and it’s funny, too. On top of that, the author even made a comic of it! I’d recommend both, though I’m partial to the written version.]

#shadamy #shadow the hedgehog #amy rose #sonic the hedgehog #fic recs #not a headcanon

[undercoverpena]

Stood Up + Salads

Diego Hargreeves x Fem!Reader Words: 1.5k AN: Set with a S1 Diego but not S1 or S2 storyline. For a friend, you know who you are.

He didn’t need to look up when the door goes, he knows it’s you. Because when it rains, it pours.

Diego wonders if he should be more upset about his father, rather than being upset he’s had to see the others. Only for him to take his frustration out on you, consciously or not.

The fact you allow the door to meet the frame with such a loud thud is enough of a signal to him that you’re pissed.

Diego takes a second, thinking of his next steps as he swipes his tongue over his teeth, staring at the punching bag, as if it’s going to provide any answers on what he should do. How he could get out of this. Because if he plays this wrong, which he will, it’s going to spiral. Becoming so much worse than it already is.

A whole lot fucking worse.

And it’s already bad.

Hitting the bag once, twice and then thrice, he pays attention to your footsteps nearing. Not turning, not needing to see if your arms are folded, lips pursed and giving him one of you signature dead expressions. He knows you will be, because Diego fucking knows you and you know him.

And he hates it.

He despises that you know about his tick. About his family. About his upbringing, talent and everything else in between. He hates that you suggested calling off the meal before he did, and he hates himself for agreeing to go even if he knew he wouldn’t attend.

Because he’s decided he hates being happy.

He likes being miserable, likes fighting petty crime without anyone to come home to.

“Asshole.”

Rolling his head, he casts his eyes over you. Finding you exactly as he’s imagined. The only—slight—difference is the look in your eyes.

Sadness. A look which doesn’t suit you. One which stands out to him, because he’s seen it so rarely.

It swirls in your eyes, mixing with your usual shade, darkening them as they pin him to his spot. Or try to.

Letting his hands fall to his sides, he lets out a sigh before he can help himself. And the glare you send him is enough to force him to turn to face you.

When it comes to you, he isn’t sure if he hates how close you are to him physically or metaphorically; not sure if he dislikes it more that he wants to kiss you or let you love him.

“Hello to you too.”

Your lips twitch into a smirk. “You don’t deserve a hello.”

“Touché.”

“Surprised you know that word.”

“Under all this, I’m clever y’know?”

“Are you?” you snap, and you roll your lips together.

Those painted plump lips that’s kissed every inch of him. That he’s woke up dreaming about and gone to sleep pressed against.

“You’re angry—“

“Oh, I’m past angry, Hargreeves,” you says, tapping your foot on the gym floor. “I was angry when I was on my second glass, wondering where you were. I was fuming when I left, embarrassed and ready to hunt you down. Now, now I’m almost murderous.”

He hasn’t been called his surname in sometime. Hasn’t found himself in hot waters, with you at least, in sometime. Even angry, he feels your eyes rake down his frame, following a bead of sweat which falls from his neck down his chest and stomach.

Pulling the gloves undone with his teeth, snaps your eyes back up. And he finds himself smirking at you and his own foolishness simultaneously.

Because deep down he’s known this day would come, where you—like most—tired of him. Finding yourself irritated with his ways, of his selfishness and his impulsiveness.

“Let me have it then.”

He throws the gloves to the floor, shifting his weight as he notices the slight narrowing of your eyes. The way your lips twitch, whether a smirk or a smile, he can’t be sure. Usually, there’s less talking when you’re like this; usually you’re already pinned under him or against something. Now, you don’t even look at him like you’d welcome that.

Diego hates you for that too.

Despises that you have gotten under his skin, throwing him off his game. He’s dated. Well, since Patch they’ve not been constant. Real or permanent.

But you, you got to him. He still doesn’t even know how.

You don’t bend as easily, don’t surrender as you should. You fight him, sometimes tooth and fucking nail, and fuck, he doesn’t hate that about you. He loves that. He loves it when you steal the wind from his sail; when you cut him down. You don’t pander to him, you call him out, and he needs that even if he can’t admit it.

He even doesn’t mind that you sooth the insecurity, recognising when enough is enough. Halting anything before it goes too far, leaves too many wounds. You make him want to try to be a little better, even if he fails most days.

“No.”

“No?”

You snort. “No. Because if I rip you a new one, you’ll find some way to say sorry. And, then you’ll kiss me, and I’ll melt, and then you will forget that you’re an asshole.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever forget that.”

Your jaw tenses, almost impossibly so. “For someone in your position, you have a lot of snark.”

“Be careful, you may hurt my feelings.”

Nodding, your lips twist before straightening to an unreadable expression again. “Oh, don’t worry. I’m done.”

His muscles relax.

And his heart stops.

Yet Diego is somehow, not as surprised as he should have been.

Even if he looks at you, staring at your eyes and hoping to see a tease, a jest. He looks hoping you will change your mind, that he hasn’t successfully pushed another person away.

“Took you long en—“

“Im done talking,” you continue, cutting him off. Taking closer steps, slow ones, full of purpose as you dig your eyes into him. “I’m not gonna ask you to do right by me, I’m not gonna ask for an explanation why you decided to stand me up tonight. Hey, you don’t even have to talk to me.”

His forehead creases, flicking his eyes from your eyes to your mouth.

“Because I know why. You want me without the commitment, without the expectations of being a good person. You want a hole to fuck, so here I am, Hargreeves. You’ve got one.”

Fuck.

He stifles a sigh, especially as your finger press into his chest, nail digging down into the skin as you roll your lips and then he has to focus on not groaning. Especially when you bat your eyes lashes and smirk so condescendingly he wonders if you’ve been sent to test him.

“You want to pretend you don’t crave normal, that you don’t deserve it,” you continue, looking up at him, “I’ll play pretend. Hey, I’ll become the best damn actor in your movie you’ll ever know. But, I’m done talking.”

You place your other hand on his, moving his to your hip as you smirk.

“So, lights camera action, baby. Where do you wanna fuck me first?”

He feels your lips ghost over his. His hand clenching around your hip. Everything inside of him telling to just go with it, to not talk, to not burst open in front of you.

To kiss you.

To throw you down on the mats and not talk for hours.

“I-I’m s-sorry.”

“No. No you’re not,” you says, full of sadness, your expression not changing to match your tone. “If you were, you’d have come to dinner. You’d have stabbed your fork into the salad before I’d have told you I want street food.”

You didn’t move, and neither does he. Your hand spreading over his chest, his hand still on your hip.

“You don’t let yourself enjoy anything, because what? Your dad was an asshole and your brother went to the moon?” You ask, head tilted. “Diego, I don’t give a shit if you’re number two, you’re number one for me. But you have to try. You have to try at least ten percent otherwise it’s just me, forcing you to be with me.”

He never feels forced. Not with you.

You’re sometimes the only thing which is good. Which isn’t fucked, tainted or ruined. You’re good, if not a bit too sweary and a bit too good at drinking. But, you’re… nice, and unwilling to let him settle.

“You’re m-my number o-one too.”

“Cool.”

“I mean i-it.”

“Nice.”

“Baby, c'mon?”

You sigh. “What, Diego?”

Diego. He’s Diego again.

He doesn’t smile, even if he wants too.

He doesn’t kiss you, even if he’s fighting every part of himself.

He just stares, using his other hand to cup your cheek. “I am sorry.”

“Salad at a fancy place too good for you?”

He smirked. “Yeah, kinda.”

“Good. Because it’s too fancy for me too.”

“So why we’re we even fucking going, baby?”

“Because,” you say, defiance in your tone, “it’s what normal people do. They don’t meet over a bad game of darts and several beers, and fuck on a boxing ring. They don’t fight a literal mugger with trained assassin-level knife skills a month after beginning to sleep together.”

Your shoulders sink, your expression softening. “They date, at restaurants who charge too much and hold hands across parks. And for a second, one tiny fucking moment, I wanted that for you. I wanted normal, meet-cute type romance before we grabbed whatever was in a cart and we fucked on my new sideboard.”

His thumb brushed over your cheek. “I’d have liked that.”

“You’d have loved that. But—“

“I’m sorry,” he says again, softer, more meaningful, “I’m s-s-sorry. I really am.”

“I’m still mad.”

“That’s okay.”

“You owe me a fancy salad.”

Smirking, he nods. “Baby, I’ll give you a salad bar if you want it.”

“I don’t like salad.”

“No?”

“No.”

Smirking, he cups your cheek with more purpose. “What do you want then, baby?”

He watches your eyes darken. "Oh."

"Oh, indeed. You have a lot of making up to do.”

#diego hargreeves x y/n #diego hargreeves x you #diego hargreeves x reader #diego hargreeves #diego #diego tua #tua ff #tua fanfic #tua diego #diego x reader #diego x you #tua diego x reader #tua diego fanfic

[anigerrrr]

Just a friend from work

Natasha Romanoff x Carol Danvers

Word count: 1.5k

Summary:  Natasha doesn’t think that she’s dating the blonde woman, and they certainly shouldn’t as well. It’s not professional.

Warning: Protective Yelena, sister conversations, Captain’s bad acting 

(please let me know if there’s any I should add as well)

a/n: Hello! This is my first fanfic written in English for carolnat, and I just love them so much. English is not my mother language so please ignore my grammatical errors lol ! Please do comment if you have any thoughts or questions!

/

“So, how old is he?”

“Who?”

“That guy you’re dating.”

When Yelena started it - whatever it is, the redhead immediately made a full stop for this upcoming conversation.

“No,” Natasha said, half jaded from today’s mission. “Yelena, I already said that we are not gonna talk about this. Not now.”

“Excuse me, you almost got caught in the middle of the frickin’ building just for replying to someone's text.” Her sister’s brown eyes widened in disbelief, “and as your partner, little sister plus, I think I have a full right to know what’s happening.”

Ok, after all of the universal matters. The Snap, The Blip, The Endgame and The Reunion. Natasha let out a sigh. This world may be peaceful enough - almost too peaceful, for her younger sister to dig into her personal life now.

“It was something important from the HQ, ” she finally made something up, trying to convince Yelena. “Some information. Not anyone I’m dating, and I’m not seeing any single guy either.”

This part was sort of a truth.

Natasha wasn’t seeing a guy.

/ Coming back to earth in an hour. - C. /

That’s the reason she punched the bad guys in extra strength today, almost ruining Yelena’s nose as well in some kind of jump-scare situation. Well, Natasha just needed to end this mission. Efficiently. 

She’s expecting a woman with glowing fists.

“You may be the top assassin with excellent lying skills, but you know it’s useless to me.” Yelena teased in a raspy Russian accent, as if she just couldn’t let go of it. 

“I’ll take the compliment.”

“And does that mean you’re actually lying to me?”

Natasha smirked, taking off her suit as she replied to the blonde. “You’re less annoying when you’re still a little girl.”

She tried to pretend nothing actually happened in this present, and that’s what she should do for sure. She’s still an Avenger, reborn in the mysterious deal between Captain Marvel and the Soul Stone keeper after the war. 

Carol was there, shining like stars in the darkest underground. Vormir was a place of exchange, a place where only sacrifice made deals. But when it was about Carol, nothing seemed impossible to make a miracle in her hands. 

-It was easy, you know. I just asked him to return what we had left in that shit place.

-Yeah, I asked him nicely. See this smile? That’s how I got Nat back.

No one believed this story. It didn’t matter anyway, especially when these avengers witnessed Natasha taken back by Carol without any visible injuries.

Maybe just like how she found Tony and took him back at an unbelievable speed, there’s something always mysterious with Carol.

They supposed. 

“If you’re taking good care of yourself as Fanny is, I wouldn’t have asked.” Yelena rolled her eyes, and suddenly she saw something unusual on her sister’s back.

“Wait, Natasha. What is that?” As Yelena leaned closer, she narrowed her brown eyes to observe the unusual mark left on Natasha’s back. “It looks like a bite. Oh my God, are you turning into a vampire or something? “

She realized that maybe Yelena didn’t know what love marks were. As far as she knew, her younger sister hadn’t dated anyone since the collapse of the red room. 

“There’s no bite, Yelena. You’re exaggerating, it’s probably just a scratch from the fight.” Natasha pulled down her black tank top, adding an extra leather jacket she didn’t usually wear.

There’s a bite. 

And it took all her efforts to stay impeccable in front of her sister every time she felt it burning silently, especially after taking a shower or punching someone really hard. 

Carol did that. 

“Alright then, time for dinner?” Yelena shrugged, putting her oversized hoodie on. 

“Yeah, sure.” Natasha didn’t catch the full sentence from her partner-sister honestly, she focused more on the communicator that she’s been carrying all the time.

“Speaking of that…Mom - I mean, Melina. Anyway, she asked if we’d be free to show up for dinner next week.” Yelena said, pulling out her phone from the pocket as well. “I think Friday will be good, how do you think?”

/ Let’s catch up in the compound later, I need to take a really quick shower. - C. /

“Yeah, that’d be amazing…wait, what?” Natasha raised her head up and seized the blonde’s eyes, “I’m sorry, what was the question?”

/ In case you wanna know, I look like a total mess in purple blood now. They didn’t even act like living spices, what a day. - C. /

Natasha stopped, and smiled a bit for imagining the blonde woman’s messy look now. 

She didn’t reply a single word to these texts, but it kept coming up. It’s just like Carol knew that she’d always read them as soon as they were delivered. 

“Ok, that’s rude.” And her sister finally couldn’t take it any longer. “Admit it, Natasha. You’re apparently disturbed by someone that you don’t wanna tell me, why is that?”

Then, Natasha realized that Yelena was still standing in front of her the whole time. She didn’t pay attention to anything this young woman said about free or show. Or dinner. 

Fantastic.

“I’m dealing with something important,” walking together out of their changing room, Natasha answered softly. She’s hiding her vague feelings of guilt. “- from work.”

“Natasha, we’re working together.” 

“Ugh, that’s different. That’s…” As Natasha tried to come up with something more persuasive, her younger sister stopped and nodded to someone.

“Oh, hey.” Yelena took a step back, and she seemed a little nervous. “Cap, we didn’t know you’re coming back today.”

When Natasha met the other blonde woman’s eyes, she found Carol’s hair still dripping. Ok, that’s definitely how a quick shower should be called.

“I left a message to Agent Romanoff.” Carol showed her audacity in acting surprised just right in front of the perfectly trained assassins. “Oh Romanoff, I was looking for you. Lucky me.”

“The mission I mentioned last night, remember that? It went a little bit wrong now.”

To Natasha’s surprise, her sister showed concern on her profile. “Is everything alright?”

Wait, Yelena could tell if she’s lying easily but actually believed in Carol’s almost-too-obvious acting?

“It will be,” Carol smiled back, taking a step in to pat Natasha’s left shoulder. “I just need to borrow your sister for a few minutes - hours, if you don’t mind?”

“Oh, that’s fine. She’s not actually paying attention to me anyway.” Yelena raised her eyebrow, adding a friendly suggestion to her Captain. “Just don’t let her suspicious friend bother her via texts during the mission.”

“Ha, that’s mature.” Natasha couldn’t help but roll her eyes back again, she knew Carol was trying to not let out a laugh. This woman is literally shining right now.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, totally.” Carol winked in a way that Natasha suspected she'd done this a thousand times. 

“See you later then, young lady.”

When they left the compound, Natasha shut the door of the training room and almost hit the blonde’s pretty nose.

“Are you fucking serious?” Natasha said as soon as there’s no one else between them. 

“You are wearing my jacket.” Carol just smirked happily, admiring how well it fit the redhead. “It looks cute on you, just keep it for me. Will you?”

Something did go wrong, between these two deadly women.

Any one in the galaxy would say it's very hard for Carol to stay in one place for a long time. But she did, she stayed on earth for almost a week, once a month. 

And any one in the Avengers’ HQ would say it’s very hard for Natasha to be disturbed by anything or anyone. Even so, she would not show it on her expression even a tiny bit.

That’s just not her thing.

Like dating someone, or texting someone back. Or admit that she’s caring for the blonde ones, not just her younger sister. 

But they did have sex (well it was amazing), twice. Ugh, maybe three times, if the very first time on Carol’s spaceship counted. 

That’s all, it's a healthy relationship between adults. 

It sounds professional.

“You should stop texting me while we’re at working hours.” Natasha sighed. 

“Wait,” Carol chuckled, her hair color looked darker when it’s wet. “Do we actually have ‘working hours’ in this job? I mean, when is it not ?”

“When we’re not on a mission.”

“But how do I know- ”

“You’re the Captain, Carol.”

“Oh,” Carol finally agreed with a small smile. “That makes sense.”

Every time. Natasha looked at her and thought. Every time she called her name, not Danvers or Captain, just Carol. The smile just came up like that, like nothing else in this world was more delightful than hearing Natasha say her five-letters name.

It’s silly, unprofessional.

But Natasha did that, once in a while.

“So,” Carol tilted her head slightly, and acted that she’s way more harmless than having power to blast spaceships in a single fist. “What’s the plan for dinner?”

“You’re gonna stay that much longer, Captain?” Natasha teased when she finally felt something was in control, by her. Carol’s thoughts were easy to be studied, or at least she gave in for her.

Carol hummed in a way that Natasha could tell she’s triggered, and dragged her leather jacket’s collar to lean in.

“Depends on what you’re offering me to eat, ma’am.”

#carol danvers x natasha romanoff #carol danvers #natasha romanoff #yelena belova #black widow #captain marvel #carolnat

[babbushka]

I am SO sorry if requests are closed, I wasn’t sure! I just wanted to request hearing about the first time Mob Boss Kylo held hands with his honey. I’m so soft for him!

1.5k cw: Jewish!reader, kylo & reader as teenagers (childhood best friends to eventual lovers when they grow up but just friends as of right now lol) fluff, mild angst (the mortifying ordeal of being a teenager and going through puberty)

His palms are sweating, because of course they are. It’s your bat mitzvah, and he wants nothing more than to ask you to dance, but dammit, you’re too pretty and it’s making him sweat and why the fuck would you want to dance with a guy with sweaty hands? So he stalks around the outskirts of the ballroom, watching and lurking like a creep as your school friends take turns twirling you around, your laugh bursting out of your mouth, your braces glinting in the sunlight from the way that you’re grinning so wide.

Good, he thinks, Kylo wants you to be happy. He’s gone through a great deal of bullshit to make sure that you’re happy but…but dammit he wishes he were the one making you smile that like. Catching Uncle Luke’s eye for a moment, Kylo ducks his head and blushes, because Uncle Luke raises a brow and nods his head in your direction, and shit there go his palms again.

Why was this so mortifying? He’s your bodyguard, he’s spent more time with you than anyone. You were the closest thing to a best friend to him, if he allowed himself to think about it like that. So why was he shaking in his fucking dress shoes, rubbing his hands against his nice pressed trousers? He’s ready to bolt, ready to call the whole damn thing off – when he feels a hand on his arm.

“Everything okay?” You ask him, startling him so much that he nearly bumps over an entire display of pretty champagne glasses. The tips of his ears that poke out from under his yarmulke go bright red as he rights himself, but your eyes are only sparkling with laughter. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”

“Yes – I mean no – I mean.” He stumbles, not yet used to his long limbs, his growth spurt finally hit and hitting hard. Kylo clears his throat and speaks in his newly deepened voice, “Everything’s okay.”

You don’t buy it for one second, he can tell. You’re a walking talking lie detector, have been ever since your family started asking you to sit in on meetings a few years ago. Unlike the unlucky schmucks that you interrogate though, you don’t have an interest in pressing the issue with Kylo.

“Do you like my dress?” You ask instead, giving a showy spin, the tulle skirt flowing and making you look like the princess everyone in the tri-state area knew you were. There was even a tiara poised on your head, and Kylo can only think of how correct that image is, thinks how you should be wearing one every day. You spin again and smile, “I know you were there when we picked it out but, does it still look okay?”

“You look…” He tries not to be weird, tries not to be gross, he’s a couple years older than you, you’re like a sister to him – no wait, that wasn’t right, he can’t stand his fucking sister. He doesn’t know what you are. But he doesn’t want to weird you out so he winces as he lamely replies, “Great.”

“Thanks.” You laugh at his awkward compliment, and dammit the tips of his ears are burning. He wishes he could grow his hair out one day to hide them, especially when you go serious all of a sudden and demand to know, “Why are you avoiding me?”

“I’m not.” Kylo lies, and you raise a brow, your arms crossing over your chest, catching him in it. He tries to cover, “I’m just, uh, keeping a lookout. You know. For danger.”

Kylo winces again, because the idea that you could possibly be in danger tonight is absolutely comical. The entire underground crime world has shown up for your bat mitzvah, some coming from Jersey, others from Philly, and some even all the way from Chicago. There were more guards and guys with guns in the ballroom than there were at the Pentagon tonight, and you both know it.

“Are you having fun?” Kylo asks, scratching the back of his neck, wishing he had some soda or something to drink. His own bar mitzvah wasn’t even this stressful for fuck’s sake.

“Not really.” You shrug one shoulder, and all of Kylo’s attention panics, zeroing in.

“What? Why not?” He stands up straighter, squares his shoulder, wondering what could be the problem, kicking himself for being so caught up in his complicated feelings to not notice that something had gone wrong.

“My favorite boy hasn’t asked me to dance all night. No matter how hard I keep hoping that he will.”

“Who? I swear to god I’ll find him (Y/N) – ” Kylo’s vision goes red, and he bares his crooked teeth just a little, hands balling into fists as his short fuse flares, but you’re laughing.

And then, miraculously, somehow, your hand is in his.

His anger melts away instantly, replaced by something he can’t name. He doesn’t know what this feeling is, but it’s terrifying, it’s sickening. Is he going to throw up? He can’t tell – why is his heart beating so fast?

“Kylo you’re such an idiot.” You throw a smile over your shoulder at him, leading him by the hand to the dance floor, where a soft and sweet slow song has begun to play.

He can’t get over it, the feeling of your hand in his. You didn’t even cringe when it almost slips out of your grip from how clammy it’s become, and Kylo thinks maybe there was danger, and he was killed in the crossfire, because with all the lights so bright and the air cloudy with cigarette smoke, he’s pretty sure this must be Heaven.

But it’s very real, because you’re looking at him expectantly, and he realizes he has to move his feet. Dancing. Shit. He didn’t…if he’s honest with himself he didn’t think he’d get this far. He didn’t really realize that he doesn’t know how to dance, and now everyone is watching – he can see Uncle Luke grinning behind his big grey beard off to the side – and he has to move his feet. Sensing his distress, you lead the dance, and that should be humiliating, but you haven’t pulled your hand away from his yet, and he’s still so floored that he’s even here to care.

“I’m your favorite?” He asks, trying to process that monumental statement.

“Duh.” You roll your eyes fondly at him, and Kylo has to clench his jaw tight or else he’ll say something stupid, something that’ll ruin everything.

When he calms down enough, and more people join the dance floor, Kylo’s buried dancing lessons come back to the forefront of his brain, and he takes the lead once again. With a pleased sigh, you tuck yourself close to him, resting your head on his chest. He’s too tall now for you to lean it against his shoulder, but that’s okay, you’re happy just the same.

“Thank you for being here with me.” You whisper to him, gently enough so that only Kylo can hear, “I know…I know Snoke is keeping you busy.”

“Hey,” Kylo frowns at the bitterness in your voice when you mention is name, and unthinkingly, Kylo pinches your chin between your fingers and tips your face up. Your gaze has clouded with something dark at the thought of his boss, and Kylo can’t have that, so he assures you, “You’re my number one priority. Always. Snoke couldn’t keep me busy enough to miss something like this.”

You’re not so sure you’re satisfied with that answer, he can tell in the way your eyes swim, but eventually you sigh, tucking yourself back underneath his chin, asking, “When do you go away again?”

“Not for two more weeks.” Kylo hopes that’ll be enough time for you to not feel sad. It’s your birthday, he doesn’t want you to feel sad, it goes against everything he works for.

“Do you think we could go up to the Catskills?” You whisper, like it’s a secret, like you don’t go up to the Catskills for a couple weeks every so often.

“Whatever you want.” Kylo nods, and you’re appeased then, and he takes advantage of that by spinning you and dipping you, reveling in the way you clutch to him with a laugh as your stomach swoops from being nearly upside down.

And then, it strikes him that one day, maybe, maybe if he’s lucky, one day when you’re older, maybe you’ll be in love, and maybe you’ll marry him, and maybe he’ll get to dance with you like this, have your hand in his like this. That’s lightyears away, he knows, anything could happen between now and then, he knows.

But it’s enough to have this moment, however brief it may be, with his best friend, and for the first time all evening, he’s not petrified. Not when you’re smiling at him, your favorite boy.

---------------------------

Taggin some Kylo lovin' friends! No pressure to read, I know that this isn't everyone's jam! @mochabucky @sacklerscumrag @artsymaddie @bitchydecisions @direnightshade @reyloaddict55 @thembohux @kylorenswhxre @sunflowersinthesnow @babayagakeanu @safarigirlsp @steeevienicks @materialisthicc @lovinghufflepuffgirl @hswritingrecs @han68000 @rosi3ba3z @chapterhappygirl @schopenhauerdeathsquad @loverofallthings @groovetoob @bxnnywriting @glassbxttless @angel-bxby3 @smallgirlbigpersonality @lovelyyy-luna @2000andwhat @raddo1975 @cornmousequeen @metsienmenninkainen @caillea @painttheskylineforme @holding-on-to-starwars @kylo-ren-is-alive @caitlin-was-here @icarusinthesea

#kylo ren x reader #kylo ren/reader #kylo ren x you #kylo ren/you #kylo ren fluff #mob au #each eye AU #my writing #travel queue