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strawb3rryw00 · 3 years

Text

Late Night ♡ woo wonjae x female reader

warnings -> swearing

synopsis -> y/n works hard in her studio day and night and begins to worry her boyfriend who works right next door.

fluff and some suggestive shit.

also there’s a little bit of jay park x reader in here too

~♡~

4:25 am.

You let out a long sigh, slamming your computer shut after listening to your track. You had recently joined AOMG as their youngest member. You were a prodigy, having only been rapping for a year when Jay saw you performing at a small show just two years ago. No one in the company had a doubt in your skill, all of them praising you highly on the single you released after joining.

But you were a perfectionist. And you were determined to prove to everyone that your talent was undeniable. You were labeled as the hidden ace of AOMG by a magazine company after a special performance at one of Simon D’s concerts.

Your lyrical abilities and flow were unmatched by most artists in the game. You had a unique musical and physical style which caused you to have a large fan base, doubling in size when AOMG confirmed your relationship with Woo Wonjae, another artist under the label.

You were featured on his album, his fans becoming yours after hearing your talent paired with his.

But that only made you put more pressure on yourself.

You’ve locked yourself in your studio for days on end. Wanting to get your first full length album utterly perfect for your fans, the company, and yourself. You’ve gone days without sleeping or eating, earning the worry of your label mates.

Just three hours ago Jay was in your space lecturing you. He made sure to take care of every artist under him, checking up on them despite his busy schedule. While having two companies and multiple rappers and vocalists under his labels, you were the one he was always most worried about.

“Y/N man,” He spoke to you casually in english. “I love your drive and effort, but you need to go home sometime tonight.”

You frowned, pausing your song you had played. “But Jay,” You rolled up your sleeves and exposed your tattooed arms. “I’m just trying-“

“I know what you’re trying to do.” Jay cut you off, his tone a little harsh. He hated talking to you like that, but it’s what you needed. “Your friends? They snitch on you. Especially your little boy next door,” He referred to Wonjae, who was probably working away in his studio as well.

Since your boyfriend was also an artist, he understood your mindset and left you alone due to your request. Of course you guys still talked and spent time together, yet it was minimal during this time.

“I should not have to hear that you’re in here day and night. I gave you the full fucking luxury studio as a gift, thinking you’d take care of yourself. But youre basically living here. The shower is for occasional late nights y/n,” Jay furrowed his eyebrows at you, standing up and sighing. “I’ll force you to move to a smaller one, don’t think I wont.”

Jay opened his arms for you to stand up and hug him, which you did. He held you tightly, resting his head on yours and sighing again. “You stress me out. I better hear that you’ve gone home by tomorrow afternoon.” He says sternly, pulling away and looking at you.

“And you better fucking eat babe,” He always spoke to you in a friendly manner but it was never flirty. He genuinely cared for you and the other artists. And it was normal for you both to use babe in a casual manner. Despite his lecturing and the wide age gap, you both were very good friends.

“I will,” You smiled at him, pulling your phone out to find something to order.

He exits your studio and you sigh, sitting down on the couch you added. Your studio felt more like home than your apartment. You decorated it as such, even adding a cat tower for when you have your feline roomie with you, which is usually always because you don’t like leaving the ginger cat alone all the time.

After he left you went back to working diligently. You had finished three songs in the five months you’ve been working on the album. You didn’t have an actual deadline but you knew your fans were waiting. You had several features you wanted on this album as well. Hoody has been waiting for you to finish your part of this song so she can add her magical vocals to it. But you hadn’t quite found what you were missing from it.

Your phone lit up, a message from Jay on it. ‘I have your location ma’am’ The message read, earning a laugh from you.

‘lol’ you respond, setting your phone back down. You look at your lock screen and smile. It’s a picture of you and Woo that a fan took of you both performing on stage together. It was the first time you performed with him after it being confirmed you both were dating. In the picture you’re rapping to the crowd, squatted down a little and Wonjae is looking at you with the happiest look plastered on his face.

At the thought of your lover you decide it’s time to take a break. You get up and stretch, hearing your back pop, slipping back on your slides. You tend to stay in your socks while working, it’s more comfortable to you.

You walk out the studio and next door, smiling as you read your boyfriends name on the door. You walk in without knocking, knowing he never minds.

He’s in the booth, rapping his verse to Kunst, who looks at you with tired eyes. You stand behind his chair, resting your hands on his shoulders and giving them a slight squeeze while listening to your boyfriend.

You could listen to him rap all day. His deep voice was so beautiful in your ears. “Are you about to leave?” Kunst asks you. “Jay told us to make sure you leave.”

You shake your head. “Not yet.” You say, earning a sigh from the taller male.

Wonjae exits the booth, his eyes lighting up when he sees you. “Ahh finally taking a break mm?” His arms wrap around your shoulders and pull you close. You inhale his scent, closing your eyes in comfort. He doesn’t let you go, and holds you while talking to his friend.

“Imma head out, you did good.” Kunst gets his things together and pats you on the head before wishing you both farewell and leaving.

Wonjae kisses the top of your head and yawns. “Let’s eat baby,” He says softly. You nod and slide your hands under his shirt and run your fingers along his back, his favorite thing.

“I missed you,” You say into his chest, still with your eyes closed. He chuckles, his hand resting on the back of your neck while his fingers play with the few pieces of hair that fall from your bun.

“I missed you too, you been busy huh?” He pulls away slightly to look down at you. You meet his eyes and give him a tired smile which he returns.

“Yea you could say that.” He laughs at your answer which is music to your ears.

Now having been in his arms you don’t want to return to your studio for the day. You really did miss him but work is very important to you.

Wonjae sits down in the chair his friend was occupying previously and pulls you into his lap. Your legs hang over one arm while your back rests against the other. You lean into him, his arms sliding around you once more and pulling you closer. You tuck your head into his neck and relax to the sound of his deep breaths.

“It’s almost 6 am,” Wonjae hums, his fingers tracing the outlines of the tattoos on your exposed arm. “I’m tired.” He sighs. You know he’s hinting that you guys should leave, especially after Jay having said something.

“Me too,” You admit, placing a gentle kiss on his jaw and yawning. “Let’s go.” You add, reluctantly leaving his lap.

He stares at you a little shocked. “You’re finally listening huh? I’m impressed.” He stands up as well, laughing when you hit his arm.

“Go get your things jagi,” He waves you off.

After getting your things and your kitty, you lock up your studio and meet by his while he locks up as well. He smiles at you, sliding his bag on his shoulders and wrapping his arm around your shoulders while you both make your way to the parking garage.

“Let’s go get some early food and then go to my place yea?” Wonjae offers, guiding you to his car. “Ron can come with us and play with my babies,” He refers to your cat that you named after the ginger wizard.

You nod, getting in the passenger seat in his car and setting Ron on your lap. You inhale the comforting smell of his car, not having been in his car nor outside for a week now.

Wonjae drives down the empty road to a restaurant near his apartment that’s open early on weekdays. His hand rests just above your knee, his index finger reaching out to pet the cat on your lap. “No work talk today.” He says, looking at you as he parks. “You’re taking a break.” You smile, loving how he already knows how you are.

After you fill your stomachs, you’re on the way to his home. Even more tired now that you’ve ate. Once parked, he grabs his bag as well as yours and leads you into the building and up to his apartment. Unlocking the door, he rests his hand on your back to usher you in where you set Ron down while slipping your feet out of your shoes.

Ron immediately mingles with Wonjae’s three cats who make their way over to the two of you, the four of them following you to Wonjae’s room.

“Do you want to shower with me?” Wonjae asks softly, cupping your cheek into his hand and rubbing the pad of his thumb along the bone. You lean into his touch, kissing his palm. “Yes please.”

“Okay, I’ll go start it.” He rushes to the bathroom and you hear the water being started. You undress yourself, throwing the clothes in the basket he has in the corner of his room. Once you’re completely stripped you push open the bathroom door where you see Wonjae beginning to take off his clothes as well.

After sliding off his shirt he looks at you and smirks. “Mmm,” He hums, pulling you closer to him by your hips. “I missed looking at this.” He leans down and places a kiss on your neck, licking a stripe to your ear and flicking your lobe with the tip of his tongue. It sends a shiver down your spine, your eyes closing in bliss.

He knows your body like the back of his hand, he cherishes every piece of you. He looks at you, smiling. “I’ll fuck you later,” He kisses your lips, lingering for a moment before pulling away.

He finishes undressing and you both get into the shower. He hugs you under the warm water much like he did while you were in his studio but this time it’s much more intimate due to the skin to skin contact. Your breasts press against him, head tucked into his neck. The warm water cascades down your body, causing you to grow tired.

After you both wash up, you find yourself clad in his hoodie and sweats that are just a little big. Wonjae waits for you on the bed, the four cats finding their way to join him. He lays on his back, scrolling through his phone.

You crawl into the bed, snuggling into his side with your head resting on his shoulder. He immediately puts his phone down and rolls over on his side to wrap his arms around you too pull you closer. You feel him breathing in your scent, his legs pushing to get in between yours.

“Jay isn’t letting you back into the studio until tomorrow and I’m forcing you to lay with me all day .” Wonjae mumbles.

You laugh a little, feeling grateful to have such caring people in your life. “Your album can wait for a day. I’ve missed you.” He adds, pulling you even closer to him.

You both fall silent, your eyes closing. You’ve never felt more content and comfortable than how you do now. You feel one of the cats snuggle into your back and purr against you.

“Wonjae,” You began, earning a hum from the half asleep man. “I love you,”

His hand slides under your shirt and gently scratches your back. “I love you.” He says, resting his hand on the small of your back.

You find yourself slowly falling asleep. You know you’re going to be asleep for the whole day and you’re honestly looking forward to it. Especially with Wonjae and the cats.

He’s right, your album can wait.

~♡~

lol i had to write another for wonjae. it’s so hard for me to find fics for him so i jus been writing my own.

#woo wonjae fluff #woo wonjae #aomg woo #aomg reactions #aomg drabbles #aomg imagines #aomg scenarios #woo fluff #woo wonjae smut #woo wonjae scenarios #woo wonjae drabbles #woo wonjae imagines #woo wonjae x reader #woo wonjae tattoos #aomg x reader

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darylsgirl · 3 years

Text

You know you want this

Request for non con :- Daryl and reader were previously in a relationship but Daryl broke up with her and left her hurting. But Daryl realises later on that he really wants to be with the reader so he goes to her place to talk to her, but she can't go through all that hurt again so she says no. This angers Daryl and he leaves and comes back drunk after some time. Then the non con part. But I also want the reader to come around after some time?Request two : What about Norman edging the reader? Request three: Can you do one where the reader tells Daryl she wants to try squirting and he’s down for it and she does it repeatedly so many time they just become addicted to it. Alexandria time.

Summary: Daryl breaks your heart after you let your feelings for him slip, Breaking you completely Spencer helps to put the pieces back together, Finally starting to feel like yourself again Daryl decides he wants you back and he’s not going to take no for an answer

A/N: Hey lovelies! Sorry this has taken me so long to write! I had a dream last night for another story so hopefully it won’t take as long for the next one! Thank you all for your patience! If you have any requests let me know! I’m always happy to add them to the list :)

Hope you like this! Have a lovely day <3

Love Jen :)

Trigger Warning: Smut starts as Non-Consensual, Edging, Squirting, Violence, Eating disorder, Self deprecating thoughts. 18+ only please!

Masterlist

It had taken months to be able to look at his face without feeling your heart shattering, You had avoided him at every possible opportunity. Excusing yourself whenever he came into a room biting back the tears.

When people had started to notice you moping around you knew you had to reserve your heart break for when you were alone, When you and Daryl had been together you had kept it a secret wanting to have something just for you both, Not wanting to share your secret happiness with others yet. You could see why he wanted too; he was a very secretive person not wanting to let anyone into his high walls.

The trouble with this is when one night after over a year of spending the night in his arms you let it slip, Happily curled around him you’d told him you loved him. He instantly froze.

“Go to sleep Y/N Ya drunk” He had muttered. When you woke in the morning he was gone leaving just a note on the bedside table “You can’t love me, Goodbye Y/N”

Jumping out of bed you had searched for him around Alexandria to be told he had taken off hunting earlier that morning. When he finally came back he wouldn’t even look at you. You had followed him home desperately trying to get him to talk to you.

“Please Daryl just talk to me! I know you feel the same way”

“Nah, Go home Y/N I don’t love ya and I never asked yer to say ya loved me either!, Ya knew what this was” He sneered before slamming the door in your face.

Hearing him say he didn’t love you was all it took for you to run home locking yourself inside for days, You tried to settle in the bed but his scent was everywhere. Dragging your pillow and a blanket from the bed you had curled up on the floor

You stayed in the same position for days only moving when your bladder felt like hot knives were being poked through it. You’d heard as various people had come knocking to check on you but you just weren’t ready to see anyone yet.

When you did finally surface a week later you could feel your clothes falling more loosely around you, You were always slim but now you looked painfully so. Carol gave you a sad smile offering you a bottle of water that you took gratefully. Carol was the only person you thought had known about you and Daryl, She had never said anything but from the pitiful look she was giving you now, She must have known.

“Why don’t I fix you something to eat Y/N” She offered, Her hand motioning to her house. You shook your head quickly. You couldn’t go there, That’s where he would be.

“No” You croaked your voice raspy speaking for the first time in a week. “ I’m ok, I ate earlier” She raised her eyebrow not believing you but letting it go all the same.

You spent your weeks like this only eating small amounts if you had no other choice than to accept, Feeling your clothes get looser and looser.

Spencer had been the one to get you to eat a full meal for the first time, Sitting with you patiently at the cook out you had been reluctant to go to. He sat with you well after dark letting you eat at your own pace, While he filled the silence with idle chatter.

You found yourself laughing at his stories, The sound startling you when it first came out a small smile crossing your lips. You stayed with him happily forgetting for a while. That was until you heard a loud snort from the other side of the table.

Looking over your eyes met Daryl’s briefly, You hadn’t realised he was there listening to your entire conversation. Standing quickly you looked at Spencer “I’m sorry i have to go”

Turning on your heel you ran towards your house. “Wait Y/N! Wait” Spencer said catching up to you within a few feet. You jumped in alarm when you felt his hand on your arm.

“What's the rush? Hey listen, I was meaning to ask you. Can I make you dinner sometime?” You looked at him shocked not saying anything when he continued.

“Just thought we could spend some time together, Yano just us.” You thought for a moment.

He did seem to be a nice guy and he definitely wasn’t embarrassed about being with you.

Nodding slowly, you agreed not sure why he wanted to have dinner with you, making Spencer grin “Cool! Tomorrow? I’ll come by your place at 6 to get you?”

Nodding again you let him give you a warm hug before turning again and heading straight for your house.

Locking the door behind you, You let out a small smile, maybe this was what you needed to get over him, someone who seemed to care about you and might return your affections.

The date had been nice and you had become a regular thing, He had taken to walking you to and from work holding your hand and smiling down at you every time his lips brushed yours to say goodbye. He had continued to be incredibly patient with you letting you warm up to him and letting your walls come down slowly.

It wasn’t like it was with Daryl it wasn’t a passionate burning love, It was sweet, Caring and different. Your eating problems soon behind you with Spencer, Your heart still hadn’t fully recovered but he was doing a good job of trying to glue it back together.

It still hurt every time you saw Daryl, His eyes starting lingering on you more now since you had gone public with Spencer. You tried to avoid his gaze, Reminding yourself of the hurt he had caused you and that it was Spencer who had picked up the pieces.

6pm was soon rolling around, Spencer and you had made this a regular thing every Friday you had a date night, You wanted tonight to be different, The more Daryl looked at you the more your lust for him was returning, You had to get him out of your head and give your all to this loving patient man.

Pulling on the red figure hugging dress you found in the back of the closet you smoothed it down hoping it would signal to him that you were ready. Pulling your hair into a loose bun and picking out some loose wavy bits to hang around your face pulling the maroon lipstick out Daryl had found for you on a run.

You had only previously worn this in bed with Daryl, It was one of his kinks, He liked to see the lipstick smeared across his body where you had left your hot kisses. Making him increasingly harder when he saw the marks around his cock.

You felt your thighs brushing together feeling yourself heat up at these memories. Shaking your head you looked at yourself in the mirror smoothing the dress down nervously. You heard as Spencer knocked on the door. Applying the lipstick you smiled at yourself feeling hot, Before heading to the door.

As you opened it you were shocked to see not Spencer but a very awkward looking Daryl standing in front of you, He didn’t ask if he could come inside before brushing past you into the living room.

Your heart pounding in your chest you closed the door slowly following him timidly into the living room.

Both in silence for a few minutes before you finally found your voice, “Wh...What are you doing here?”

His eyes wandered over your body taking in your dress before staring at the lipstick. His eyes opened wide when he recognised it

His eyes looked pained now taking a deep breath “’m so fuckin stupid Y/N, I miss ya, I want ya back....For real....I want ya to be mine”

Daryl had never been that forward with his feelings before. Your heart pounding in your chest, You wanted to fall back into his arms, But it wasn’t fair of him to ask that of you, This wasn’t fair at all. The anger bubbling up now, The fucking nerve of this man!

“Get out” Shaking your head you felt the anger build “Get out Daryl! No, No you don’t get to do this!! You don’t get to see me happy and moving on, Trying to forget you and just think you can walk back in and it can go back to how it was!”

“But....Y/N please. I-I”

Cutting him off trying to cut the emotion from your voice “Spencer will be here any minute, Get the fuck out!”

You took a step back as he started towards you, He watched as you flinched at his movements, Seeing the fear in your eyes. He was close too close, You could feel your body burning for him, It terrified you how much power this man had over you.

“Ya don’t have to be scared of me Y/N i wont hurt ya....Yer know that..”

“Too late Daryl, You already did! GET OUT!” Pushing his chest harshly seemed to snap him out of it. Not saying another word he turned on his heel slamming the back door behind him.

It took a few minutes to compose yourself, Grabbing the whiskey bottle from the cupboard you took a few deep swigs settling it back down and fixing what you thought was a convincing smile back on your face as someone knocked on the door again.

Thank god, It was Spencer this time!”

“Holy shit…… Sorry! Hey baby...,. You loook….. Incredible” Spencer said his jaw dropping when he saw you.

Stifling your giggle you lent up kissing his cheek, Biting your lower lip slightly as you saw the Kiss mark on his face. The blush was rising in your cheeks the alcohol was definitely hitting you fast.

“Shall we” He asked, still in awe holding his arm out to you. Taking his arm you stepped out of the house closing the door behind you. The moment your feet hit the pavement, You almost walked straight into Daryl.

“Watch where ya goin” He growled. Spencer feeling the tension put his arm around your shoulders protectively pulling you out of Daryl’s way into his chest.

“C’mon babe, Dinner will be getting cold” You tore your eyes from Daryl’s turning your attention to Spencer as he kissed your hair. Smiling sweetly at him you let him pull you away down the street towards his house, Glancing backwards you saw that Daryl was glaring at you now with those dark eyes. Putting your arm around Spencer's back you tried to shake off his glare.

He had looked pissed.. But what fucking right did he have to be upset? What did he think was going to happen? You were going to live the rest of your life as a nun moping around and starving yourself because of him? Or that you would just forget all of it and just fall back into his eyes like the pathetic woman he thought you were? Fuck no! You tried not to let the anger build.

During your meal you had tried to concentrate on Spencer but your mind kept wandering back to Daryl. You drank more that night than you had on any of your other dates trying to get up the courage to take things further. As you sat on the couch together kissing sweetly, You decided now was the time.

Standing up you straddled his hips moving your dress up enough to give your legs space to move. Grabbing his face you kissed him eagerly. Moaning as his hands came to your thighs rubbing them gently before moving to the small of your back pulling your core and chest tight to him.

Moving your lips now to his neck you kissed him hungrily. “Y/N….Y/N stop”

Pushing away from him you looked at him confused “Why….?”

“I really want you….REALLY want you but your so drunk!, it’s not right doing this now”

He saw the surprise and rejection in your eyes. Putting his hand in your hair he pressed your lips against his gently.

“Baby I want to make love to you, So fucking much but not while your like this. But soon. I promise ok?”

You nodded giving him a small smile, He was a good guy and you appreciated that about him.

“Guess i should go then…” You trailed off standing up from him and smoothing your dress back down.

“Want me to walk you home babe?”

Shaking your head “No it’s okay its only a block down i can manage” He stood walking you to the door he gave you one last kiss before wiping the slightly smeared lipstick from your face. Giggling you left.

Walking slowly up the street enjoying the light breeze before sighing and heading into your house, Leaving the lights off you walked straight into your bedroom.

That’s when you saw him. Lying on your bed, The same Jealous glare in his eyes. The previously full bottle of whiskey laying empty at his side.

“What the hell are you doing here Daryl?” You asked, trying to keep the nervousness out of your voice.

“What are you doin with him?” he retorted standing up from the bed now. He walked slowly to you.

Stuttering “He’s my boyfriend… Why wouldn’t i be with him”

“Ya fuckin mine! Not His!!Tell me Y/N Ya let him touch you?”

“What fucking business it of yours, I told you to leave me alone!” You snapped. He was standing directly in front of your now so close you could feel the breath on your cheek.

“You wanna be a whore, Walkin around with the likes of him, I’ll treat ya like a whore Y/N only had to ask….”

Leaning into you he pressed his mouth to your ear “Bet he can’t make yer feel as good as i can”

You froze as you felt him now his hands pulling you to him kissing your neck feverishly.

“Stop!” You cried putting your hands to his chest. “You don’t get to do this! Break my heart then think you can just what...Come in here and I’ll fall back into bed with you? Fuck you Dixon” Your voice full of venom.

You heard the growl rise in his chest, “That’s the fuckin plan” He sneered down at you.

Gripping your throat tightly he threw you onto the bed hands quick as lightning he pushed your skirt up revealing the lacy underwear you had put on for Spencer. Throwing his body onto yours he tried to kiss you.

Panicked you bit his lip hard drawing blood “Get the fuck off me….What are you doing!! I’m with Spencer!”

Wiping his lip he grinned at you “Still feisty Y/N Fuck Spencer. I’m gonna show ya what yer missin with him”

His voice now a low growl “You know you want this”

Putting his hand into your hair he gripped it tightly pulling your head back and keeping it in place while he attacked your neck again struggling against his body he kept you pinned..

“Daryl….Please...Please stop this!” You cried feeling the tears hit your eyes as his hand ripped your underwear from you.

“Ya know ya want me Y/N Why else would you be wearin a dress like this, Or that lipstick i got ya. Stop fuckin fighting this, I need ya now, You need me too” His hand now undoing his own pants as his teeth bit harshly into your neck and chest.

In one quick motion he was inside you. “See” he growled “So fuckin wet for me” At first you were ashamed of your body’s reaction to him, Then your mind started clouding feeling yourself get wetter and wetter. He pulled his teeth back now replacing it with warm wet kisses.

You couldn’t stop the moan that ripped from your throat as his huge member touched that delicious spot inside you making your chest arch to meet his.

You felt him smirk against your neck. Feeling the fight leave your body being replaced by the pleasure he was giving you he released your hair and lightened the pressure he had on your arms.

Instinctively you raised your arms to his neck tangling your fingers in his hair pulling his lips back to meet yours, Every part of your fight gone now. Just loving this feeling you had been denied for so long.

He kissed you wildly, his tongue pushing into your mouth groaning into the kiss when your tongue danced with his.

“Tell me how much ya love this cock Y/N” He growled lips moving back to your ear nibbling softly.

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head at the sound of his voice feeling your body give in fully to him all thoughts of Spencer wiped fully from your head.

“Tell me Y/N! Tell me how you love my cock more than Spencer’s” he demanded. At Spencer's name your eyes flashed back to his.

“We didn’t….We never….Oh god Daryl!” You were so close.

Tormentingly his hips stopped then. “What d’ya mean ya didn’t? Is he fuckin crazy...Look at you...Look at this fucking dress” His hands went back to the hem of your dress which was now lying haphazardly across your stomach. Lifting your torso slightly he pulled it free from you.

“Oh god, Y/N I’ve missed this sexy fucking body” His head darting down to kiss your exposed breast, Groaning you felt him pull out of you his lips moving down your body.

“Daryl please, I was so close!” You begged, Missing the incredible full feeling you had moments ago.

Grinning up at you he ducked his head again running his tongue down and around your navel.

“Stand up” He ordered. It took a moment for your legs to respond, Standing with him knelt in front of you, He kissed both of your hips before kissing you harshly on your aching bud.

Licking from bottom to top a few times before starting to suckle softly at first then with growing intensity as his fingers found your heat, Once he had buried his fingers into you, You felt your knees growing weak again. Tangling your fingers into his hair and desperately pulling his incredible mouth closer as it swirled around whilst rocking against his fingers. His fingers curling inside you hitting your g-spot perfectly.

Just as you were feeling that blissful heat about to explode he pulled his mouth away, Fighting with him slightly you tried to pull him back, Grinning up at you he tutted “Not yet Y/N.” Removing his fingers from you he stood pulling you with him and pushing you up against the back wall.

Kissing you deeply and lightly brushing his fingers up and down your sides. You were panting heavily feeling the frustratingly close high fade away. Once your breath was back under control he knelt in front of you again.

“Trust me” His voice a dark gravel breath as he moved his body between your legs lifting one foot from the floor and putting it over his shoulder.

He gave you a swift wink before grabbing the other leg and putting that over his other shoulder. His hands on your hips to steady you he stood with you on his shoulders, Bracing yourself hands on the ceiling you let out a surprised yelp.

His teeth meeting the inside of your thigh. “Oh yes, Daryl!” you groaned. He turned his face nipping your other thigh before hungrily staring down his main target.

His tongue darted out of his mouth resuming its earlier attack on your aching clit, “Ahh please Daryl!” You begged as you felt your self building straight back up instantly.

Your walls were clenching tighter and tighter desperate for this knot to be unwound. Arching your chest, your head hitting against the wall a squealing moan escaping your chest as he nibbled softly on you.

Your breaths getting deeper as you got close again. And just like the other two times he pulled his mouth away. Manoeuvring you off his shoulders into his strong arms before dropping you back to the ground.

Your pleasure quickly turning into a frustrated rage. “What the fuck Daryl!” You swiped your arm at him trying to hit him in the chest, Catching your arms lazily he smirked at you not saying anything.

You could feel the tears of humiliation springing back to his eyes, turning away from him you wrapped your arms around your naked body. He had to be messing with you, This was cruel and if you were honest kind of painful.

“Get the fuck out” you yelled towards the wall not wanting him to see just how frustrated you were.

As his arms reached out for you, You felt the shift in his mood. At first you tried to shrug him away but he persisted pulling you into his chest. Leading you back to the bed he lay down next to you.

Still not saying a word he kissed you again sweetly this time. Letting you open back up to him as he slowly crawled back over to you, Nudging your knees open his mouth still on yours as he entered you again.

You looked at him nervously as he moved slowly not wanting to ignite that heat again, Worried he was going to take it from you again.

Hearing the deep moans coming from his throat as he kissed you, You allowed yourself to just enjoy the moment. He felt so good.

Every thrust was slow and deep, Filling you so completely like no one else ever could. He knew just how much you loved the slow torture. Moaning back for him you could feel your walls clenching down again.

Separating your lips you tried to control your high and calm your body down. Daryl watched as you squirmed, your chest heaving with your deep breaths.

Bringing his nose to your hair nuzzling it slightly before whispering “Cum for me Y/N” His eyes meeting yours, You prayed he was being sincere as you couldn’t hold it back much longer.

His hand coming up to your chest tweaking your erect nipples as he started to move faster in you.

“Oh fuck! Daryl” You whined, Your entire body feeling on fire as your every nerve responded to his words and actions. You felt a different type of pressure build in your groin, It was the sweetest pain you had ever felt.

Your body started to violently shake as it felt like lightning was ripping through your heat.

That’s when you felt it, It was like you had been paralysed as Daryl pulls out quickly replacing his throbbing cock with his fingers again.

Curling them back up to your g-spot his other hand palming your clit.

“OH FUCKKKKKK” you screamed as the first wave exploded through you. You could feel the waves of wetness exploding from you. Staring at Daryl incredulously he looked just as surprised as you did at your squirt.

You didn’t know what the fuck was happening to you all you knew was that it was the most incredible feeling you had ever had.

It seemed never ending as arc after arc of juices spilled out of you hitting his chest, His groin and soaking the bed. Pushing his desperate cock feverishly back into you, He hit into you harder than before.

Your juices were still leaking around him as he cried out. “Holy Fuck Y/N! I love ya,Yer fucking incredible!”

Your orgasm still ripping through you “Ah fuck Daryl!!!” You screamed as you felt it hit its highest point before your body started to slowly climb down.

“Ahhhh Y/N. Fuck” He cried out again as you felt him explode deep into you, You didn’t have the cognitive ability to comprehend what he had just said as you were clinging to his neck like you had just survived a tidal wave.

Not sure how long you had both stayed that way you felt as the sheets under you turned freezing cold from your juices.

Daryl moved off from you then pausing to kiss your forehead. Collapsing at the side of you it took him a few more minutes of deep breaths to compose himself. Both just lying there in stunned silence.

“That was…” He mumbled. “Incredible” you finished still seeing stars.

Turning to place a loving kiss on your lips. Your brain finally starting to work again.

“Wait….Daryl did you say…?” He pulled an arm over his face, his cheeks glowing red.

“Yah and what if i do?” He asked you slightly angrily.

“You don’t Daryl, If you did you wouldn’t have left like you did” You could feel the pain returning to your chest, All those months pining after him not able to eat or sleep with his absence.

“I do Y/N I just didn’ deserve ya, Didn’ want ya to fall for someone like me when you could have someone better for ya, Someone like Him” His arm still draped across his face not looking at you.

This was the most you had ever heard him talk about his feelings, Lifting yourself just enough off the bed to move upwards to his eye level you moved his arm away from his face making him look at you.

“I don’t want someone like him, You’re the best there is. I wanted you, And you broke me”

He looked at you guiltily “It damn near broke me too Y/N” He whispered.

The silence was awkward now, Giving you a small smile “We should uh get cleaned up, Didn’ know ya could do that....” he joked motioning at the juices still covering his chest. He got up and you tried to follow your legs instantly, going weak before you hit the floor. He caught you with a chuckle.

Pulling you in his arms he kissed you passionately moaning into his kiss you pulled back “I didn’t know i could do that either, Can we do it again?” You asked innocently, your eyes still closed.

He sighed heavily “I want to do that every fucking...Day” He growled you felt his member stir between you.

Carrying you to the shower and turning it on he set you down on your feet before taking you again and again. When you finally both came up for air you washed each other off and went back to the bedroom changing the sheets quickly and sinking into a happy blissful sleep with his arms wrapped around you tightly.

Waking up the next morning you were surprised to find the bed cold when you reached out next to you. Grumbling you opened your eyes searching for him, Eyes locking on him as he was pacing by the end of the bed fully dressed.

“Morning sugar” You grinned seeing him still with you,

“Good mornin Beautiful” He whispered. You let yourself bask in the happy morning glow.

“Y/N…..Y/N ‘M so fuckin sorry. ‘M gonna go just waited till ya wer awake, Needed ya to know how sorry i am” His voice full of emotion, He had glanced over to you occasionally not meeting your eyes.

You looked at him quizzically “Why are you sorry?”

Coming and kneeling at the side of the bed, He grasped your hand desperately in both of his.

“Ya know why Y/N I…..uh…..I” Stammering his words, his chest rising heavily, his grip on your hand starting to feel painful.

“I fucking forced ya!” You heard the emotion run over now as the sobs racked his body.

Not sure how to respond to this, You had to admit it sure started out that way but if you were being completely honest you had loved how rough he was with you, How much he needed you. The jealousy that overtook his whiskey addled brain.

He stood ripping his hands off you which brought you back to reality.

“I’ll go, I’ll leave ya don’ have ta see me again Y/N ‘m so sorry”

“Noo!!” You half screamed throwing yourself up from the bed and towards him completely forgetting about your state of undress.

Your hands gripping at his vest desperately, “No please! Daryl Please!! Don’t leave me i won’t survive it again, You can’t leave me” You were begging now trying to get his eyes to meet yours.

He finally gave in seeing the pain on your face. You shivered slightly and he immediately wrapped you in his arms holding you to his chest, His heart pounding in time with yours.

“But i...i….i hurt ya Y/N, I fuckin hurt ya.”

“No you didn’t Daryl. Look at me i’m fine! I’m ok! Please don’t leave! I just got you back”

“I am lookin at ya!” He growled. Pulling you towards the bathroom he pushed you in front of the mirror. “Look!!” He half yelled.

Letting a sharp gasp escape as you looked at your appearance. You were covered in bruises. There were clear finger marks on your neck, Marks from his teeth there too.

Looking down the bruises trailed across your hips with a few on your thighs.

After assessing them for a moment and determining that none of them actually hurt, The longer you looked the more you remembered about how those bruises got there. Biting your lip you turned to look at him.

Wrapping your hands around his waist, “Daryl really i’m ok! I bruise super easy, they look worse than they are, I promise. You didn’t hurt me.” Your voice dropping to a whisper “I want a repeat of last night, It was incredible” Feeling your cheeks flush you saw him looking at you incredulously.

Pulling away from him slowly you walked backwards towards the bed keeping your eyes on him, You could see the internal struggle as he internally fought with himself.

“C’mere baby i need you” You purred. Grinning as you saw the better side of him win, He rushed over covering your body with his kissing you feverishly, Lying you much more gently on the bed this time. Moaning into his mouth when your tongues met.

This man was a 100 different types of perfection, His clothes hitting the floor desperate to feel your skin on his again.

“For fuck sake!!!!” you whimpered as someone started knocking on the door. Panic in your chest as you tried to remember if you locked the door. Daryl stood quickly pulling his jeans back on swiftly.

“Y/N? Y/N you okay love?” He called through your locked front door.

Sitting up quickly and pulling the blanket around your chest hiding your body from his view.

You hand covering your mouth it was Spencer, God he couldn’t find you like this. You felt tears spring to your eyes as you realised the depth of your betrayal.

“Oh god, What am I going to tell him, He’s such a good guy and I did this. I’m scum!”

Daryl scoffed “He ain’t a good guy Y/N and yer aint scum, Yer worth ‘undred of him!”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Exactly what i said, He aint a good guy. Yer don’t wanna hear it Y/N”

Pulling the blanket tighter around your body

“Don’t tell me what i want to hear, Tell me now!”

Daryl looked completely away from you running his hand through his hair, his other hand balling into a fist.

“He had a bet Y/N, Him and that asshole brother of his, On how long it would take him to bed ya, Said he were gonna let his brother have ya when he was done. Ta up the stakes he bet he could make ya fall in love with him first…” He trailed off his anger palpable.

The shock evident on your face, You had trusted him, Thought he had really cared but you were just a bet to him? Fuck this!

Daryl was hot on your heels as you ran full speed down the stairs and to the door. Ripping it open Spencer had just hit the bottom step as you appeared.

“Hey baby…” Looking from your face to the blanket wrapped around your naked body. He took the steps back two at a time. “Mmm should i join you” He winked. Stopping just before the door he took in your appearance.

The amusement dropped from his face as he saw the bruises “Babe what the hell happened? Are you ok?”

Letting the fury show on your face you pushed the door open wider revealing the shirtless Daryl behind you “Yeah im great! Sorry you're too late asshole, Guess you lost the bet huh?” You spat with as much venom as you could.

Daryl took a protective step towards you now as Spencer got closer.

“What the fuck Y/N what the fuck is he doing here? Did he do that?”

Raising your voice so the crowd gathering on the street could hear. “Don’t fucking start Spencer! I know all about your little bet!! You were going to trick me into falling for you, Fuck you and then hand me off to your brother? Who the fuck do you think you are? You and your brother can go fuck each other.”

Humiliated Spencer snapped his false demeanour vanishing “So you let the dirty old Redneck fuck you eh? You really will fuck anyone won’t you!” Glancing between you and Daryl. Daryl moving forward and wrapping an arm around you ready to move you out of the way if this got any worse.

“You can keep the bitch, She’ll have fucked half the town soon enough Buddy. Just what Alexandria needed a whore who will drop her pants for anyone if they give her a drink, Tried to fuck me last night too had to pry the dirty bitch off” he spat.

You couldn’t have held him back if you had wanted to, Daryl had flung himself at Spencer knocking him down the steps onto the street and straight on his ass. Straddling his hips he rained blow after blow, blood pouring from Spencer's face a mess of blood when Rick and Abe finally managed to pull him off.

Yelling at Spencer who was starting to get up timidly looking like he was about to hide behind his mother.

“I ever hear ya talk about Y/N that way again i’ll fuckin kill ya! Ya fuckin hear me!!! Yer or yer fuckin dumbass brother so much as look at my woman again they’ll be no savin ya!”

Pulling himself out of Rick’s and Abe’s grasp for a moment he threw a hard kick in the direction of Spencer's head.

“Daryl Stop!! He’s not worth it!” Your voice shaking as you tried to get Daryl’s attention, placing your hand gently on his cheek he stopped fighting.

“I ain’t lettin him talk to ya like that Y/N!” He almost whined trying to excuse himself.

“I know baby, But it’s ok he aint worth it! You taught him his lesson, I love you, I’m yours! Let’s go back inside!” Very aware now of all the eyes on you both, You still in just a blanket and Daryl only in his Jeans.

Daryl’s eyes softened pulling away from Abe and Rick again he pulled you to him.

“I love ya Y/N Ya are mine and now all these pricks know it” He half chuckled.

“C’mon, I’d like to get back to our earlier activities before this prick interrupted” Giggling as his eyes grew dark. Throwing a dirty look at Spencer you let Daryl throw you over his shoulder, His arms clamped around the blanket to cover your body.

He ran with you back up the stairs. You heard as Abe guffawed letting out a wolf whistle as Daryl slammed the door behind you both, Moving to the curtains he slammed them shut.

As he turned back to you, You dropped the towel swaying your hips as you walked over to him.

“Show me how your’s i am Daryl” You purred forgetting all about the incident just moments ago.

Your bodies collided, He showed you every spare moment he had just how much you belonged to each other, You couldn’t have even dreamt of how happy you were together. Spencer never hassled you again not even looking in your direction after that day, Much to Daryl’s amusement.

His group had accepted you as family instantly. Never once questioning your love just embracing it.

Even though the situation that brought you both back together hadn’t been ideal you couldn’t help the grin on your face every time he drank whiskey.

Thank god for Whiskey and Daryl fucking Dixon.

Masterlist

Taglist <3

@jazzy1118

@one-shot-plus-size

@marvelfansworld

@phoenixblack89

@fuseburner

@angelofthorr

@pncnsc

@jodiereedus22

@delightfullykrispypeach

@honeyswritting

@daryldixonstorm

@browneyes528

@dixonsbike666

@graniairish

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arrowflier · 3 years

Note

Lovely Arrow, a random plot bunny appeared and I just know you could do it justice: what if Franny has some friends over at Mickey and Ian's place when she's older and one of them is new to the group and wants to learn a little more about her uncles? And Franny starts waxing poetic about how they're made for each other and complement each other so well and both Ian and Mickey overhear and it makes them tear up a little. Just a thought 😋🥰

Evie, thank you! I've decided that Franny's friends love her uncles almost as much as she does, so that's kind of where this went.

---

“Why are we here again?” Tiffany asks as they crowd onto the stoop of the little southside worker’s cottage. Franny doesn’t bother to answer as she knocks on the door, but one of the other girls takes pity.

“It’s her Uncle’s house,” Susan says. “Jesus, Tiff, pay attention.”

Well, not too much pity. There was a reason she’d never been invited before, after all.

“Yikes, Suze,” Tiffany mutters with a frown. “I just meant why weren’t we at her actual house.”

“Because my actual house is loud as shit,” Franny finally chimes in, not even looking back. “My mom gets lonely so we live with like three other families, it’s a nightmare for schoolwork.”

“You’d have known that if you paid any attention,” Susan adds, and they all ignore Tiffany’s pout.

It doesn’t last long anyway, because the door creaks open not a moment later.

“Hey Fran,” Ian says from the other side. His hair is longer than usual right now, and looks windswept—or like someone had been carding hands through it all morning. His shirt was tight-fitting and a little too short, like it didn’t belong to him, and the socks on his feet didn’t match.

“Hey Uncle Ian,” Franny greets, then gestures to her friends. “It still cool if we take over the living room for a bit? This group paper is a beast.”

“Of course,” Ian agrees with a wide smile. “Anything to help my favorite niece.” He opens the door wider to let them in.

“Nice to see you all again,” he says as they start to file inside. “John, Rachel,” he greets them individually. “Susan, that new haircut is fantastic, I told you it would be.”

“Thanks, Mr. Gallagher,” Susan says with a grin, tucking a loose curl behind her ear.

Ian grimaces at her, playfully.

"Ian, please," he begs. "I've never met a Mr. Gallagher I didn't want to punch."

Susan giggles, and moves inside.

“I don’t think I’ve met you,” Ian says with a thoughtful frown when it's Tiffany's turn, and Franny jumps in with an introduction.

“Uncle Ian, this is Tiff,” she says. “She got put with us for the project.”

“Nice to meet you,” Ian says, and holds out a hand.

Tiffany takes it, and when Ian lets go, her hand just hovers there.

“Make yourselves at home,” Ian says as he closes the door behind them. “I’ll be in the other room if you need anything, but—

“Try not to need anything,” they all chorus, with the exception of Tiffany.

“Good kids,” Ian laughs, and then he’s gone, disappearing through the archway that leads through to the rest of the house.

They settle quickly. John and Rachel take the love seat, as they’re always wont to do, sitting just a little too close. Rachel giggles as their knees brush, and Franny rolls her eyes at John’s blush.

She takes her own usual spot next to Susan on the floor, notebooks spread out across the ottoman, and startles when Tiffany suddenly appears on her other side.

“Dude,” Tiffany hisses, poking Franny in the shoulder. “Your uncle is so hot.”

Franny frowns, staring down at the wrinkle Tiffany left on her sleeve.

“Yeah,” she says idly as she smooths it. “So I’ve heard.”

“I mean I mean I always thought red hair looked weird--no offence," she tacks on hastily, "but it really works for him."

Franny focuses on arranging her things to avoid smacking Tiffany in the face.

"Does he have a girlfriend?” Tiffany asks, biting her lip. She toys with the ends of her over-crimped hair, bright nail polish flashing between blonde strands.

“No,” Franny answers, and doesn’t give Tiffany any time to think about that before adding, “he has a husband.”

Tiffany pouts, shimmery pink lips sticking out comically. Franny exchanges a look with Susan, who mimics the expression in a way that has Franny trying to swallow her laughter.

“So not fair,” Tiffany whines beside them, crossing her arms. “Why are all the cute ones taken?”

“Hey!” John protests from across the room, but they all ignore him except for Rachel, who hits him with her three-ring binder.

“Mickey would probably kill you for looking at him,” Susan chimes in, “so you should probably keep your eyes to yourself anyway.”

“Yeah,” Rachel agrees, even as she rubs John’s arm in apology. “He’s been to jail, you know.”

“Ew,” Tiffany says, wrinkling her nose. “There’s no way he deserves someone like Ian, then.”

Franny grips her pencil too tightly. Susan sends her a warning look, but she ignores it.

“Actually,” she says casually, hiding her irritation, “they’re perfect for each other.”

Tiffany‘s brow wrinkles.

“No way,” she disagrees. “You Uncle seems so sweet, he deserves someone nice at least.”

Franny’s pencil snaps.

“Shit, she’s done it now,” John mutters.

“Uncle Mickey is nice,” Franny grits out between clenched teeth. “He’s a hell of a lot nicer than you, actually.”

“Franny—” Rachel tries to interrupt, but Susan cuts in over her.

“She’s not wrong,” Susan says. “You’re in the man’s home, Tiff, have a little tact.”

“Besides,” John speaks up, “Mickey is great. He helped me with my math homework last week.”

“Come on!” Tiffany cries. “There’s no way some ex-con should be married to that hunk out there.”

“Ian’s an ex-con too, though,” Susan says. “Right, Fran?”

Franny smiles.

“That’s right,” she confirms gleefully. “They were in jail together, actually.”

Tiffany pales.

“No way,” she mumbles, but they aren’t done.

“Yeah, it’s the most romantic story!” Rachel all but squeals. “Mickey wasn’t even in the country, but he heard Ian needed him and he came right back!”

“They’d been together for like, years already,” John contributes. “High school sweethearts or something like that.”

Rachel latches onto him at that, and he flushes again.

“And they take such good care of each other,” Susan adds. “Last time I was here Ian wasn’t feeling too good, and Mickey made us all be quiet so he could sleep. Then I helped him make some soup, ‘cause he isn’t good at that stuff.”

Tiffany is biting her lip again, staring at them each in turn.

“But Ian seems so—”

“In love with his husband?” Franny cuts her off dryly. “Sounds right to me.”

The others all agree, but Franny isn’t done.

“My Uncles have the best relationship I’ve ever seen,” Franny continues, “and I was a little kid for most of it. So if you think they’re gonna care what some random kid their niece hangs out with thinks about their marriage…” she trails off.

Tiffany’s eyes are downcast.

“Didn’t mean anything by it,” she mutters, then looks up through her eyelashes. “Sorry.”

Silence, broken by Franny’s tired sigh.

“It’s okay, I guess,” she says. Then she hands Tiffany her notebook. “Here, you can write the introduction.”

——-

Behind a half-closed door down the hall, Mickey stands quietly, eyes wide. He startles when the door creaks open an extra inch, Ian slipping inside.

Ian’s eyes are soft when they fall on his face, and Mickey blinks hurriedly to hide the wetness in his own.

“You heard all that, I take it?” Ian whispers, and Mickey nods.

“Yeah,” he says hoarsely. “Kind of hard not to, those kids are fucking banshees.”

Ian laughs, soft and quiet.

“Banshees that love you,” he says, stepping closer. “As they should,” he adds when Mickey lets him wrap strong arms around him.

“Sounds like one of ‘em loves you more,” Mickey mumbles into Ian’s chest, and it shakes as Ian huffs.

“She’ll learn,” he says, holding Mickey tighter. “They all do eventually.”

“That I’m the better husband?” Mickey jokes, even as he rubs his face into the fabric of his own shirt over Ian’s broad chest.

“That we’re best together,” Ian corrects, and Mickey smiles.

“Yeah,” he breathes out, pressing a kiss to Ian’s sternum.

“Yeah, we really are.”

#hope this counts!#I couldn't let go of the idea that teenage girls everywhere would find their story ridiculously romantic #and defend it to the death lol #daily speedwrite #gallavich #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #franny gallagher #fanfic

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voiceless-terror · 3 years

Text

I mean, I don’t believe in the predictive power of dreams, obviously, but still, it’s a deeply unsettling thing to find. I had Tim look into it, as I don’t entirely trust the others not to have written it as a practical joke and slipped it into the archives. - Episode 11, Dreamer

Jon stares down at the paper in his hands.

He’s had many an unkind thought towards Gertrude, his predecessor, the woman responsible for this mess and the current bane of his existence. She’s been the topic of most of his grumbling as he sorts through piles of nonsense and decaying cardboard boxes. He’s got no love lost for her, but that doesn’t mean he’s happy she’s dead. Or, specifically, to have a statement apparently predicting it through the medium of some prophetic dream. Ridiculous. He wants to feel detached, unaffected, but he can’t help the sickly sense of dread that creeps up his spine and lingers in his throat.

It was your face and the expression upon it was far more fearful than any I had seen in eight years of wandering this twilight city.

Jon doesn’t know Antonio Blake and has no reason to believe him. But he’s known something’s wrong for a long time now.

He’s never admitted it aloud, never within his assistant’s hearing range, but he can feel it, as foolish as that sounds. This miasma of wrong, of being watched, of becoming...something else, that happens every time he records a statement. Despite the academic detachment he aspires to, he does attempt to empathize with each statement-giver and get into their mindset. But what he’s doing here...it’s different. He can visualize it so perfectly, the terror in their words sticking in his throat and setting his own heart pounding, as if he were the one experiencing it and not just regurgitating it to an ancient recorder. He’s always had an ‘overactive imagination,’ as his grandmother would say, but this is relentless in its manifestation. The fear is real, not imagined. Each statement draws him further and further away from the safety he used to cling to, where the only real cases were few and far between and the most sinister things lurking out there in the world were books and the monsters within them.

And as much as he wants to linger on the false accounts and take comfort in tearing them apart, his hands automatically seek the real ones, the right ones. It’s frightening, the ease with which he finds them nowadays. Perhaps he’s a better archivist than he thinks.

She died and you’ll be next, something whispers to him. He’s being dramatic, as he’s wont to do, but it feels true. Every statement that doesn’t record correctly, every follow-up he has to qualify with an ‘I would dismiss this, but-’ is starting to add up. His nights have become restless. He often lies awake regretting that he ever took this job, that he left the relative safety of research for a position he’s not sure how to fill, his only reassurance Elias’s occasional emails that he’s ‘moving in the right direction,’ whatever that means.

Jon assumed he’d be more removed from the dangerous aspects of the job that research entailed- following up, going to locations, field work. And it’s true, he has assistants to do that for him now. Dependable, for the most part. And while he should feel safe in his tiny office with nothing but dust and paper and cobwebs (good lord, the cobwebs) he feels more unsettled and exposed than ever. He once joked he’d die of old age before getting the archives in order. But now a stroke sounds much more pleasant than whatever happened to Gertrude. If it’s true.

Perhaps it’s a joke, he thinks. Planted by one of the others, designed specifically to unsettle him. Well, it worked.

It wouldn’t be surprising. He’s...not had the best start. The promotion was a surprise, but not wholly unexpected; he knew he’d been on Elias’s radar, though he wasn’t expecting it quite so soon. He’s young and unfortunately, it shows. The way he stutters through department meetings, talking about digitization while the others, all of whom have at least a decade on him, shoot pitying looks. He stays later and later, the desire to show some sort of progress even as he discovers more mess by the day. The permanent scowl that now graces his features becomes his armor as he walks the halls and feels himself becoming the uptight, unlikable curmudgeon everyone believes him to be. The one time I measure up to expectations, he can’t help thinking.

A joke. There’s a comfort in that. At least it’s familiar.

But it didn’t record to the laptop, his traitorous mind supplies. It's a bit sad he would prefer it to be a mundane attempt at bullying rather than a real expression of the supernatural, but he supposes it’s par for the course. There were many nights as a child he wished for the same thing, for that boy to go back to taking his lunch money and the occasional beating or two instead of…still, he dismisses it from his mind. You don’t know there’s a correlation. Follow up. Disprove it.

He’s interrupted from his musings by a knock on the door and the vague outline of Martin through the frosted glass. “Come in,” he calls, attempting to inject some irritation in his voice to cover up the shakiness. “Did you need something?”

“Ah, I finished my write up for the Herbert case, was wondering if you had anything else for me?”

His hand hovers over the statement on his desk. He opens his mouth but then closes it, thinking better.

“Can you send Tim in, actually?”

______

“Sorry boss, I couldn’t find anything on this Antonio Blake fellow- well, at least with the details he provided, which were next to none. Proper spooky, though.”

Of his assistants, he trusts Tim the most with this sort of thing.

On a surface level, it wouldn’t make sense to some. Tim can be loud and gregarious: the typical, charming extrovert. But he’s not unkind and he’s a hell of a researcher, especially when something grabs his interest. He digs into statements and doesn’t let go- not unlike Sasha, though he’s a bit better at empathizing and handling things...sensitively. Easily attuned to Jon’s moods, Tim’s always been willing to lend an ear whenever he gets too in his head about cases, helping him talk things through or on several memorable occasions, go down the rabbit hole with him. He’d taken the statement from his hands with an easy smile, though his face grew serious with the nervous look Jon shot him.

And if Tim couldn’t find anything, well. Maybe it was a prank after all.

He sort of wanted it to be true, frightening as the implications were. Because then it would mean this terrible, heavy feeling on his shoulders was real, and not just the byproduct of his own mediocrity. He doesn’t want to be scared, he doesn’t want to be in danger, but at least it would provide a real reason for panic, and not just his own inability to measure up. He doesn’t want to prove them all right, collapsing under the stress of a job poorly done and so easily crumbling at a stupid, made-up statement, targeted as it may be.

“A joke, then.” Jon says, rubbing a hand at his temples, trying not to let the hurt seep into his voice. Tim makes a commiserating noise.

“You know how people are, the institute isn’t exactly popular. You remember last Halloween, when-”

“Yes, I don’t need a reminder.” Jon sighs. He’d rather not relive that day, stressful as it was. “But that wasn’t quite what I was thinking.”

Tim stares at him for a moment, uncomprehending. Jon continues, attempting to make his hands busy as he pointlessly shuffles papers.

“It’s rather pointed, isn’t it? I doubt someone off the street would create such a detailed account of the death of an...archivist as opposed to the usual ghostly drivel.”

A look of pity flickers in Tim’s eyes and Jon has to turn away. “I don’t really think anyone here would-”

“Really? You don’t?” Jon lets out a mirthless laugh, rubbing a hand across his face as he stares down at his desk. “I’m not blind. Or deaf.” The derisive snorts if he goes off on ‘needless tangents,’ how Rosie pretends to be busy whenever he approaches Elias’s office, the way his name badge still reads ‘researcher’ after months of asking for a new one. He’s basically become a pariah.

“Jon, did someone say something to you?” The words are carefully chosen and he’s leaning forward now, making as if to stand up and god forbid, do something comforting. It’s not that Jon doesn’t want the comfort; he craves it more than anything. But he’s gone without for so long he doesn’t trust himself not to break at the gentlest of touches. Being on the receiving end of Tim’s protective streak is nothing new, but he shouldn’t need his assistant looking out for him like he’s some sort of helpless infant.

He snorts derisively instead, covering up the insecurity and hurt with a sardonic, self-effacing smile. The kind he knows Tim hates. “They don’t need to. I’ve walked in on conversations, I’ve seen the way people go quiet, the looks they give me-”

“Hey,” Tim’s voice is low, like he’s dealing with a frightened animal. Jon wonders how he looks, if Tim’s going this soft. “Don’t listen to them, alright? You inherited a mess, we all did- but we’re doing our best, yeah? Study and record, like Elias said.” Jon doesn’t dodge the hand that finally lands on shoulder, and he’ll deny to anyone that he leaned into it.

“Study and record.” He repeats listlessly, slumping back down into his seat. He’s let himself get too worked up, acting like a child instead of a boss. He’s not sure when he started wearing his heart on his sleeve, but Tim’s always been good at reading him. Though he’d rather people think him an arrogant ass than the seething mess of insecurity he truly is.

“Atta boy.” The pat to his shoulder is purposefully light, devoid of Tim’s usually friendly force that sends him stumbling forward. “Now get out of here at a normal time, alright? We can grab lunch tomorrow. Just the two of us, if you like.”

Jon makes a noncommittal grunt, though the thought is nice. He entertains the idea for just a moment, remembering their occasional outings back in research. Tomorrow he’ll make his excuses. He hasn’t been much of a friend as of late, and he’s not sure he deserves the kindness of company.

“And if there’s anyone that needs a stern talking to from me, I-” Tim wags a finger and Jon rolls his eyes, ignoring the pang of warmth the words send through his chest.

“Don’t, please. It’s fine.” It isn’t. “But...thank you, Tim.”

“Course.” A wink and a sloppy salute to lighten the mood, and Jon feels the tension in his posture ease minutely as Tim shuts the door behind him.

He lets out a breath and reaches for the tape recorder. He’s wasted too much time already.

Be careful. There is something coming for you and I don’t know what it is, but it is so much worse than anything I can imagine. At the very least, you should look into appointing a successor.

Good luck.

He fights a shiver as the man’s voice leaves him and the last vestiges of that twilight world fade back to his dimly-lit office. In his follow up, he tries to play it off as a joke. A bit of hazing for the new boss. And yet the uneasiness still creeps into his voice, and he ends another tape on a stilted, half-believed note.

If this is genuine…

Jon prays that it isn’t.

And like most of his prayers, it goes unheard and unanswered.

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32165071

reblogs > likes

#tma #the magnus archives #my writing #jonathan sims #tim stoker #season one jon feels #with added tim #in which rye has feelings about jon 'dismissing' statements and thinking it could be a joke and TRUSTING TIM #what else is new #reblogs appreciated <3 #a light bit of #jontim

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letarasstuff · 3 years

Text

Where do you go?

(A/N): This is requested by an anon and based on this post.

Summary: How does Hotch’s daughter, who everyone goes to with their own problems, cope with her mother’s death two years later?

Warnings: Angst. Grief. Dealing with a loved one’s death

Wordcount: 2.2k

✨Masterlist✨ _____________________________

“Hey (Y/N), I really need your help with Tim. Do you have a minute for me?” (Y/N) turns around to see a boy from her science class. It’s not like she knows him that much, they occasionally team up for small projects, there is nothing more behind that.

“Uh of course. I just had my last class, so I got time for you.” She smiles and lets him, Vincent is his name she thinks, rant to her about how his boyfriend doesn’t understand his needs.

This is nothing out of the ordinary for her, to be asked for advice. She simply is a good listener and gives good tips, the best even according to people close to the teenager. The problem is her limited knowledge on relationships. “Coaches don’t play”, Hotch tells her. And he intends on keeping it that way.

“That does really suck. Did you try to talk to him about it?” (Y/N) asks the boy in front of her. Suddenly he bursts into tears, describing how he only sees breaking up as a solution. She awkwardly pats his back and says encouraging words to him. That he will make the right decision, that he shouldn’t rush it and that he has to take his time.

After Vincent, or is it Gordon, calms down he looks up at the girl. “Thank you for listening. You were a great help, (Y/N).” He hugs her and leaves.

As she looks over the parking lot she spots her father’s car. Excitedly (Y/N) walks over and gets onto the passenger seat. “Hey, I didn’t know you pick me up today”, she greets him.

“We finished the case early and I was on the way home and thought giving you a lift wouldn’t hurt. Who was that boy? Is there something I should know?” Hotch looks at her from the side. But his daughter shakes her head. “Don’t worry, he is gay. He just needed a shoulder to cry on about his ruined relationship.”

“You do know you are not the school’s therapist, don’t you? At this point your classmates should pay you.” He tries to joke about it, but as a father he is worried. Since Haley died, (Y/N) took it upon her to make sure everybody is happy, no matter at what costs.

“I know, Dad. I’m fine and Alex feels better.”

A few days later (Y/N) sits in JJ’s living room, watching the mother go from one place to the next. “Food is in the fridge, so help yourself. Henry’s bedtime is in half an hour, please make sure he goes to sleep by then. He should be easy to put down, Will made sure to tire him out earlier. All important numbers are on the fridge. Feel free to watch anything on the TV.”

The teenager volunteered to babysit Henry, giving his parents a child free evening. “Thank you, JJ. We will rock this, don’t we?” She looks down to the boy on her lap, who nods his head.

“Good. Behave for (Y/N), ok?” The mother gives her son a kiss on the head. After Will’s goodbye the couple is gone.

“Ok, how about we get real comfy on your bed and I read you a story?” Henry nods again. He takes (Y/N) by her hand to his room. As suggested they lay down on his bed.

“Which one do you want me to read to you?” But the boy looks unsure all of a sudden. “Can we just talk?” Surprised the teenager nods. “Whatever you like, champ.”

“Uh okay, do you know Mommy is a bit… much? She is like there and the next second she is here and then she isn’t here for days. I- this is sooo annoying”, Henry rants to her. He is only three, so it is kept rather simple.

“Oh man, she must be a handful, champ. But you have to keep in mind that she really loves you and in the end this is the only thing that matters. Do you love her, too?” It hurts her to talk about a mother’s love, since her own passed away over two years ago. (Y/N) still misses her. She is sure it will never go away.

“Of course I love her.” Sleepily Henry cuddles closer to (Y/N), holding his plush toy near him. After that, he falls asleep safe and sound. The teenager waits for a bit, watching him scrunching up his nose every few minutes.

The next day at the BAU a knock is heard on the Unit Chief’s door. “Come in!”

“Hey Dad, I thought a little visit wont hurt”, the daughter enters the room. Automatically a smile appears on Hotch’s face. “Also, I thought a little help from Spencer wont hurt, too”, she adds with a laugh. “Last time I checked he was in Garcia’s lair. You might have a shot finding him there”, he tips her off.

“Thank you Dad, you are the best!” Not long after this she steps into the Technical Analyst’s office and is immediately greeted by the preppy woman being anything but preppy.

“What in heaven’s name do they think I am, do you know it (Y/N)? They want me to work faster and more efficiently and expect me to be all sunshine and rainbows while looking at the most gruesome pictures ever taken on a daily basis! Un-be-lie-va-ble!” The blonde walks back and forth, gesticulating wildly.

The teenager takes her hands in an attempt to calm her down. “Sit down and tell me from the beginning what you are talking about.” This ends in Penelope raging about some superiors for an hour. When she finally calms down, it is like she wakes up. “Oh my, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to load all that up on you. You don’t need that in addition to-” She suddenly cuts herself off.

“I’m fine, really. It’ll be like any other day.” The smile the girl struggles to put on looks pained. “My sweet sweet summer child, the second anniversary of your mother’s death is not like any other day. You are still allowed to grief, you know that, right?” Penelope hugs (Y/N), cradling her close to her chest.

“I know, Penny. Thank you for reminding me. But I have to go, I need Spencer’s help with my chemistry assignment. You know, gotta keep those grades up.” With that she makes a beeline for the bullpen, leaving a stunned Technical Analyst by herself.

Since Foyet Hotch worries about his daughter. He learned many things about her coping mechanisms in the last two years: She tries to do it on her own.

In times like this the similarity between him and (Y/N) frustrates him. Aaron also tends to deal with his emotions alone, in the safe space of his own four walls. With all of his qualifications he knows it’s not healthy and he slowly learns to let his feelings loose around people he trusts, typically his team.

The difference between (Y/N) and Hotch is that he knows when he reaches his breaking point and she doesn’t about hers. So in a situation like right now being a profiler comes in handy with the job as a father.

It’s the day. The second anniversary of a mother’s death.

Hotch already planned the whole day for his two kids. At first he wakes both of them up, a luxus he seldom is able to indulge. But for today he has called into work saying he won't be coming any time before ten.

The mood around the house is suffocating. Even the little boy notices the heaviness of the day and its meaning.

“Are you ready, (Y/N)? I’m gonna drop you and Jack off at school!” Aaron shouts standing at the foot of the stairs. “I’m coming!” The answer is heard faintly.

Not long after this the Hotchner Household is on their way to the youngest’s elementary school. “Behave and remember: If you don’t feel fine it’s okay. Just tell your teachers and they will call me and I will get you, do you understand?” The father looks at his son with a certain seriousness. “Understood”, the blonde boy confirms and gives him a hug.

When he is back onto the driver’s seat, (Y/N) speaks up. “I don’t feel good about letting him to school today. What if he suddenly gets overwhelmed? I don’t think his teachers are able to calm him down.” Hotch gives his daughter a glance from the side. Jack never showed any signs of what she just described.

“They know to call me. I also told him it's all right to let them call me. He is in good hands.” It’s quiet for the next few minutes. “Dad, this is not the way to school”, the teenager tries to alert her father.

“I know. You won’t go today. I called you in sick when you were in the bathroom. I got the day planned, be ready to be surprised.”

The first thing they do is having breakfast in a little niché café. They once visited it regularly with Haley, way long before Jack was born. The two of them sit down at a booth in the corner.

“What can I get you two sweeties?” A waitress asks, her notebook ready in her hands. While the father orders their usuals, (Y/N) lets her eyes wander. So many memories at once crash onto her.

“Do you remember this one waiter, who always got you a hot cup of chocolate for free?” Aaron says after noticing her sad look. The girl begins to smile through the tears forming in her eyes. “Of course. Mom always got nearly a heart attack seeing me down it like it’s juice. I-” Her voice breaks. The tears fall down and make their way over her cheeks.

“It’s ok, you don’t have to say anything. I’m here. For anything you want or need me. Because nobody expects you to be alright, especially on this day.” He takes her hand and looks her in the eyes. (Y/N) nods, leaning against her father’s shoulder. He puts an arm on her, keeping her closer.

“I know. It’s just- It still hurts. So so badly. I feel like she still is here, but that’s just not true and that hurts me more.” Silently Hotch motions the waitress to make the order to go, while rubbing his child’s arm. Because that’s what she still is, a child.

A child that went through much, especially for her age. When (Y/N) calms down a little, they make their way back to the car.

“I thought we are going to the BAU to distract you for a while. But I can call the team and tell them we are going to do a SPA day at home or something. What do you want?”

“Can we go to them? And maybe leave earlier to do face masks at home before picking Jack up?” There is no way the father can say no to her puppy dog eyes. “Of course, Honey. Anything you want.”

As soon as the doors of the elevator open to floor six of the FBI building in Quantico, Penelope Garcia embraces (Y/N) in a big bear hug. “My sweet sweet summer child. You are so strong, I admire you. We are so happy to have you here” she whispers into the teenager's ear. “Thank you, Penny. Thank you so much.”

Over the course of the next few hours (Y/N) visits everyone’s desk. At first she goes into the lair, where mountains of cookies wait for her. Then she sits at Spencer’s desk, listening to cute facts about sloths. But Emily is quick to steal her from the genius, bribing the girl with new pictures of Sergio. Derek takes the teen from there, pushing her through the office on a desk chair with wheels. Her father is able to hear her laughs in his office, which puts a small smile on his face.

After that (Y/N) goes to JJ, who has a drawn picture from Henry for her. “Will had to write ‘best babysitter ever’ for him”, the blonde explains, pointing at the picture. The girl smiles. “Woah, I think you got a little Picasso at home. Tell him I love it.”

Her last stop is Rossi’s office. The older man looks at her with a fond smile. “Do you know that I see so much of your father and mother in you?” Confused, she glances at him.

“You are as stoic as Aaron. You are determined. But you are also caring and loving, like Haley. You are a perfect combination of both of them. Just keep that in your mind.”

As mysterious as this seems, it somehow makes (Y/N) happy. Happy to know a part of her mother is always with her.

Soon the little family departes for their home. Not long after they bid their goodbyes, Penelope receives a picture of the Unit Chief and the teenager with pink glitter masks. The father is willing to do anything to make her smile, even when this means he gets a basket of various masks the next day for teasingly reasons.

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #hotch x daughter!reader #aaron hotch x daughter!reader #aaron hotch x teen!reader #Criminal Minds #criminal minds fanfiction #bau x reader #bau x teen!reader #x daughter!reader #x teen!reader #x reader #reader insert

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tenkoscumslut · 3 years

Text

Shigaraki, Dabi, Hawks headcannons

So um this is about Shigaraki, Dabi and Hawks reaction to their S/O with thick thighs

Does contain 18+ stuff so ur warned.

And thanks to everyone, I’ve only had this app for 3 days and I have 3 followers, I mean that does not sound like a lot but it is to me. ThANKS Guys ilysm

Shigaraki

- Shigaraki is a thigh boy, as well as boob guy.

- Before you dated he jacked off to thick thighs.

- When you came along he didn’t really notice your thighs because he is either sleeping, playing video games or planning stuff for the League

- One day you wore his shirt which went down to your mid thigh

- Then he noticed them.

- He was practically drooling over them

- “Shiggy whats wrong?”

- “N-Nothing”.

(Senario):

Y/N yawned and stretched her arms far above her head, it was currently 3 a.m, and she was exhausted, “Shiggy, can we go to sleep?”, she mumbled tiredly, he grunted out a response, he was for to mesmerized with his game to really even pay attention to what she was saying.

“Shiggy?”, she repeated his name, “What?”, he asked. “I’m tired!”, she whined and sat next to him, “Then go to sleep”, he replied nonchalantly, “You haven’t slept in days, can we please go to bed?”, she asked again.

“Fine”, he huffed and turned off his monitor. A small smile formed on Y/N face, she waddled over to the bed and collapsed in it. Shigaraki stood there, staring at her sleepy figure intensely, she was wearing his shirt.

“Shiggy what’s wrong?”, Y/N mumbled tiredly, “N-Nothing”, he stuttered, a huge blush was forming on his face. Her thighs. He was in love with them, he literally wanted to sink his teeth into the soft flesh, play with them, burry his head between them.

He wanted you to crush his head with your thighs, the thought of that made his big boy stick begin to grow. “I-I like your thighs”, he mumbled and practically jumped on the bed and nuzzled his face into your chest.

“W-What”, Y/N was confused. Very confused. She just wants to slep.

Dabi

- He isn’t really into thighs

- But seeing you in that skirt

- He needed to have you

- To bad you had a boyfriend/girlfriend

- Nah he’s gonna make you his

- Your not gonna walk for a week :P

(Senario):

Y/N walked into the bar wearing a school girl outfit, somewhat similar to Togas, but instead the skirt was a bit shorter, and she wore a blue hoodie. Y/N didn’t have much confidence when it came to her fashion style, so she wore plain colors, nothing to crazy.

Today she decided to add a little spice to her clothing choice, so she chose a white tennis skirt with a blue crew hoodie her boyfriend/girlfriend gave her. Y/N was exhausted after today’s school day and work.

Toga came bouncing up, wearing her signature outfit and hairstyle, “Y/N!”, she squealed, “Oh My God You Wont Believe What Happen!”, she started to babble on about Izuku licking ice cream at her favorite ice cream store.

“That’s great Toga”, I said with a soft smile and moved my gaze to the bar. Nobody other than Kurogiri and Dabi were there, Dabi was beyond focused with his phone, typing away stuff on it while Kurogiri was cleaning a glass.

“Heyo!”, I greeted them both with a wave, “Hello Ms. L/N”, Kurogiri greeted back, Dabi spared one glance and then looked away, then looked back, then looked away.

“Oi, I said hello”, I huffed and walked over to Dabi. He coughed into his arm awkwardly, “You good?”, I asked and tapped his shoulder, “Y-Yeah”, he stuttered.

He kept looking down at my lap through the entire night.

And now it was beddy bedtime.

You drank your appy juice and then brushed your temfs.

Then you let your hair fall down

And you practically fell down on your bed.

You heard a knock at the door, “Come in”, you called.

You were surprised to see Dabi.

He shut the door followed with a click.

“Something wrong?”, you asked.

“Yeah”, he growled.

You were confuzled.

“Well whats wrong?”, you chuckled awkwardly.

“You. Fucking thinking you can prance around wearing that”, he growled.

“u-Um, what?”, you coughed awkwardly. He stalked towards you.

“Were you wearing that just to get me worked up?”, he growled.

“I-I don’t know w-what you mean Dabi”, you mumbled, a pit of arousal was growing in your stomach.

“I think you know exactly what I mean”...

You couldn’t walk for the next week. And know your with Dabi.

Hawks - It’s the first the he noticed when you walked into his office.

- He was literally obsessed with you

- So don’t be surprised if he knows your exact measurements, favorite color, brid, flower, food, pet, and most importantly, clothes.

- he likes to serenade you with objects, just like a bird

- He leave either dead animals, shiny objects or clothes at your doorstep

- At first you were freaked out

- Then every time you went home someone shouted from outside your window, “I love you”.

- And everytime you looked outside nobody would be there

- you thought you were out of your mind

- And one day you decided to ask Hawks a question

- “Hey Hawks, can you shout I love you?”.

- he shouted it with no hesitation.

- It sounded just like the man outside your window.

- At first you didn’t confront him

- You started giving him shiny objects in return

- You asked about his bird tendencies.

- then he told you about courting a mate

- and then it all clicked

- he was attracted to you and wanted you for a mate

(Senario)

“Mhm, tell me more”, Y/N asked softly, “Well um, birds...they court mates”, he explained, “They either give them shiny objects, dead animals, or they sing songs for them or do dances”, he started to dive into the topic very eagerly.

“So do you have a special someone in mind?”, you asked. A blush flared over his face and he coughed into his arm awkwardly, “U-Uh n-not r-right now”, he mumbled shyly, you smiled, “Ok!”.

“So about those song stuff”, you started, “How do most of the songs go?”, you asked. “Well it all depends on the birdy!”, he exclaimed happily, “Most of them proclaim their love in a unique song”, “that sounds so romantic”, I sighed dreamily.

“You think so?”, he asked, “Yeah, why not?”, “Just imagine someone making a song just for you about their love”. “Y-Yeah, I guess”, he mumbled, “And so shiny objects, do female birds give them back?”, you asked.

“I-If they accept the courting, they start building a nest in the males territory, and they hide the shiny objects in their nest”, he replied.

“I know this may sound odd but can you shout, ‘I love you’?”, you asked, something about the dead animals on your doorstep, the hidden objects hidden around your house, and the shouts from outside the house felt like they were all related to them.

“I LOVE YOU”, he shouted without a second thought, “HAH I KNEW IT”, you shouted, “Your the one leaving all those things on my doorstep, and shouting that outside my window!”, you exclaimed proudly, not even realizing what that meant.

Hawks turned red in almost an instant, from head to toe, “I know I know, I’ma. great detective!”, you said proudly, “So-”, you were cut off by yourself.

“Wait...”.....

“HAWKS!”.

“WHAT?!”

“ARE YOU TRYING TO COURT ME?!”

“MAYBE”

“MAYBE?!”

“WELL IF I SAID YES WOULD YOU LET ME COURT YOU?!”

“OF COURSE”

It all started with your thighs.

The one thing that made him fall in love with you.

Yeah he literally looked at your thighs, fell in love and then went full Sangwoo on anyones kneecaps if they tried to come near you.

#shigaraki #dabi is a todoroki #dabi #hawksbnha #shigaraki tomura #shigaraki x y/n #dabi x reader #dabi smut #hawks x reader #hawks smut #shigaraki smut #shigaraki scenario #dabi scenarios #dabi supremacy #hawks scenarios #hawks simp #hawks stan

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seijorhi · 3 years

Text

Meet the Parents Pt. 2

Breaking Point - Atsumu & Osamu

TW implied non con, nsfw

Your parents are already pissed.

Apparently the school called when you didn’t show up to your classes after lunch.

In all fairness, you’d tried. Twenty minutes in the girls bathroom, gripping the edge of the sink with shaking hands, staring at your reflection. There’s hickeys on your neck, a bite mark that the collar of your jacket isn’t quite high enough to hide. Your hair’s mussed, lips swollen and red - but even if you fix all that and wipe away your tears, you don’t think you have the strength to walk back into the classroom knowing that they’ll be there waiting for you.

So you don’t go back.

Both of your parents are still at work by the time you make it home, unlocking the house with the spare key hidden under the base of the potted geraniums on the porch. It’s a good thing, because you don’t think you have it in you to try and lie to them right now, but admitting the truth out loud-

‘F-fuck, darlin’, you keep suckin’ me in like that and I’m not sure I’m gonna last.’

‘You gonna cum for us, baby? Yeah, gonna cum all nice ‘n pretty for us, aren’tcha?”

- is somehow even worse. Instead you choose to shower, the water turned so hot that it’s almost scalding, but you barely notice, sitting with your arms wrapped around your knees on the tile floor as the steaming water gushes over you. You don’t know how long you stay there, motionless, shaking, but at some point the water runs cold and you have to force your aching muscles to move.

Both of your parents are waiting fo you when you get out, your mother practically fuming, ams folded across her chest, glaring daggers at you.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble by way of greeting. There’s no point in trying to deny it, they already know that you ditched - there’s no wriggling out of this one. “I wasn’t feeling good.”

Your mother huffs, raising an unimpressed eyebrow, “Well then why didn’t you go to the school nurse, sweetheart? Or tell somebody - anybody - that you were leaving?! You had us worried sick, you know. This behaviour really isn’t like you.”

She continues to rant for almost ten whole minutes while you stand there and take it without a word. What can you say?

“I’m sorry, it won’t happen again.” The words are robotic, but they seem to do the trick.

She relents with a sigh, softening as she takes in the sorry state of you. A hand is pressed to your forehead, eyes studying you closely, “Are you feeling better at least, or do I need to call the doctor?”

You force as much of a smile as you can muster onto our face, “A little.”

But it’s your father, watching from the kitchen, who frowns. “You sure about that, little one? You’re not looking so good...”

“I’m okay, promise... I just think I need to rest for a bit.”

He doesn’t believe you - you can tell from the furrowing of his brow, but he just nods. “Alright, well if you say so. Why don’t you go have a lie down for a bit, we’ll call you when dinner’s ready.”

Sleep is beyond you, but you lie down anyway, throwing on your headphones and trying to drown out everything else - the intrusive thoughts that wont leave you alone, the phantom hands hands you can still feel touching you, groping you, when an awful thought occurs to you.

They both came inside of you... what if... what if you get pregnant?

Nausea turns your stomach and you’re rolling out of bed and sprinting for the door, just as somebody knocks on your door. “Sweetheart?” Your dad. Like a deer caught in headlights you freeze, hand outstretched for the door knob. “Are you feeling any better?”

Swallowing down the bile you can feel creeping up your throat, you open the door. “Mhm. Is dinner ready?”

There’s an odd look in his eyes as he appraises you, and you can only pray to god that the hoodie you’ve thrown on is enough to cover the marks your loving soulmates so generously left behind. “Not exactly. You have some visitors, your mother asked me to come and get you.”

Your dad knows your friends. Your dad likes your friends, which makes the agitated expression on his face a little perplexing. Nevertheless, you find yourself nodding, following him when he turns on his heel to make his way back into the living room.

The sound of laughter reaches you before you see them. Your mother, head thrown back, a hand over her chest - giggling - and standing beside her in your living room, fresh from their practice, is the twins.

You blanch as two sets of identical brown eyes fall to you. You ignore the phantom tugging around your pinkies, ignore the blood draining from your face and simply focus on trying not to collapse into a fit of tears as one after the other, they smirk.

“Honey! Isn’t this so sweet, your boys decided to come check in on you!”

You can’t blame her for the wide, almost devious grin she’s sporting. To her this is a sign that after years of bullying and bad attitudes, your soulmates have finally decided that they actually want to make amends and try for a fresh start. This is all she’s wanted for you for years.

“Yeah, we were real worried when ya just ran off on us after lunch,” Osamu says.

“Ya left in such’a hurry you forgot yer bag. Thought we’d bring it over for ya,” Atsumu adds, hooded eyes glittering sharply.

All three of them are looking towards you expectantly as Atsumu holds it out and it takes every ounce of strength you possess to force your legs to move forward and take it from him.

“T-thank you,” you mutter, and Atsumu’s shark like grin widens.

“Anythin’ for you, sweetheart.”

A hand comes down on your shoulder and you visibly flinch, but it’s just your dad, standing behind you glaring daggers at the twins.

Your mother is all but oblivious to the tension in the room, beaming as she stares between you and your soulmates as if she can already hear wedding bells.

“You boys are so thoughtful, aren’t they sweetheart?” She turns to you with expectant eyes, and you nod stiffly. “Why don’t the two of you stay for dinner, hm? You must be starving after training so hard!”

Your stomach lurches, but before you can even utter a word your dad speaks for you.

“Absolutely not.”

The temperature in the room drops. Your mother looks like she’s about three seconds away from throttling him. Even the twins, usually the first to try and stir the pot, are unusually silent as your parents stare each other down.

“What do you mean, honey? Don’t you think-”

“I think,” he says, cutting her off smoothly, “that you’re being a little too quick to forget that it’s not your decision whether those little shits are welcome here.”

Gently, he turns you around to face him. When you were seven, he was quick to laugh off the twins antics as ‘boys being boys’. He got a little less tolerant when you started coming home crying more often than not, when scraped knees and pulled pigtails meant that you’d withdraw in on yourself. Maybe he’d spent one too many nights comforting his little girl when you tearfully asked him why your soulmates hated you. Your mother might be willing to let bygones be bygones if she thought it would bring you happiness in the long run, but your dad was less forgiving.

He eyes you for a long moment, brows knitted together. “Do you want them to stay, little one?”

He’d back down if you asked, you know he would. He might never particularly like the twins, might always hold a grudge for what they’d done to you, even if you ever found it within yourself to forgive them. He doesn’t even know the worst of it and there isn’t a doubt in your mind that if he ever found out, he’d actually kill them.

But if you smiled right now and told him that you wanted them to stay, he’d hold his tongue - because he loves you. You swallow, eyes darting back to where the twins stand watching.

You know you’ll pay for it later, tomorrow when you’re stuck with them once more, but this is your house. For now at least, they can’t touch you here.

“No.”

#yandere haikyuu #yandere atsumu x reader #yandere osamu x reader #tw implied non con #my writing #BD drabbles

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mcu-fan-fics-blog · 3 years

Text

Sunrises, Waffles, and Weddings ii

Pt.1, Pt. 3

One Shot Mini Series Au (No Powers)

Wanda Maximoff x Fem Reader

Word Count: 2651 (Not My GIF)

A/N: Hey Guys! Thank you for reading and liking this story. This part Is a little more background. There will be two more parts in this mini series, I hope you enjoy it. <3

Tag list: @xxxtwilightaxelxxx

It's at times like this that you wish you couldn't read people so well… Although it wouldn't take a genius to know that Pietro wasn't happy. No, you'd just have to be insensitive, and you were anything but. "Alright why are you looking at me like that?" You ask calmly and he shakes his head. "No… no this is just all of a sudden." He tries to dismiss it. Now it's your turn to give him a look. "We've been honest with each other thus far… let's not change that now." You state firmly. "I don't… like change I-i don't do well with it." You nod. He looks at you and smiles sadly. Slowly he finishes his beer and sighs heavily falling back on the couch next to you. "Everything is changing now… Paul and Sarah are married, and now you're leaving." You nod, getting exactly where he was coming from and sigh. Tonight felt like one of those nights… long and sleepless. You take the beers and make your way to the back porch. "Change is scary." You admit turning slightly to see him. "I lost my parents too…" you mention quietly. Pietro looks at you surprised, noticing the pained expression in his eyes. "It's not what you went through, but still… My parents were great, loving, and so kind." A small smile grows on your face.

"They walked out the door one day… and they never got to come back." The tears welling in your eyes. "I hated them for the longest time… I didn't understand that 'they're gone' meant they were dead." His eyes refused to meet yours. "I felt so guilty when I realized… but I was still so angry, so mad at them for having left that day." You sighed. "Are you still angry?" He asks, looking at you, tears threatening his eyes. "No, I'm sad… I'm sad that they missed all of it … Sarah's wedding, everything I guess." You look at him and ask him the same question. "I miss them all the time… and it makes me mad… guilty that I'm forgetting them." He answers. You sighed, taking a deep breath. "Are you mad at me?" You questioned. He shakes his head. "No… I-i I'm proud of you." He states. After that you both reached an understanding. Unspoken nonetheless you'd reached an understanding. Sitting in quiet contemplation you watched and enjoyed what would be the last time you did this. Reaching out for your hand he nods and gives it a good squeeze before letting go.

Quiet chuckling knocked you out of your trance. Looking at Pietro he gives you a playful smirk. "You made quite the impression on my sister." He chuckles. "She will not stop talking about you. I think she likes you." He mentions. Your cheeks burn at the insinuation making him chuckle even louder. He gets quiet again lost in thought. "What if this week… we spend it like the old times? We can go to the lake, stay up all night and tell scary stories. The whole shabang!" You suggest watching his eyes light up. "For old times sake." You add making him laugh and nod. “That sounds amazing, you know what else would cheer me up?” You shake your head, telling him to continue. “If you would be kind enough to hook me up with that cute cousin of yours… What's her name? Martha? Mary? M…” You burst out laughing knowing exactly who he’s talking about. “Cousin May is a complete stick in the mud… She’s a stick with a stick up her ass!” You laugh at your own joke. He chuckles. “Not with me…” He states smugly, which completely shuts you up leaving you speechless.

“As much as I love you Pietro you are not getting her number.” You say quickly. “You are better off without her, trust me.” He laughs nodding his head. “Fine then we’ll do your thing, a whole week of drinking and laying around sounds good.” He sits up quickly. "On one condition… Wanda gets to come." He states. "Of course she can come! " You say. "But only if she wants to come… you got to stop forcing her to do things." You state seriously. "oNLy iF sHe wAntS tO coMe" He mocks you. "Of course she'll want to come." You laugh, raising your hands in surrender. “Speaking of where's your lovely sister?” You ask curiously. He shrugs. “You know what would cheer me up?” You ask smugly. You burst out laughing watching as Pietro spits his beer out, coughing and trying to breathe. As soon as he calms down you pat his back, and look at him. “So what are the digits?” He shakes his head. “Right… I’ll just ask her myself then… I made ‘quite the impression’ Didn’t I?” You tease using his own words against him.

The rest of the night was exactly as you had predicted. You drank yourselves silly, soon you found your way inside and crashed on the couch. “You’re sisterrr is um- she’s ah really perty.” You slur out looking directly into Pietro's eyes. He’s quiet for a long while, before he belches startling you. You stare at Pietro in astonishment looking at him like he was a god. “That’s- that’s gotta be a world record.” He states. You nod and lay back down. Staring at the ceiling in the room you hear Pietro begin to shuffle. “I think that I’m Wanda’s ‘Shawn’ and I-i just don't know” He says as he rubs his temples. “What do you mean?” He sighs deeply. “I feel like I’m cutting her wings. She’s always wanted to leave this place.” You nod. “I-i She just wants to make sure you’re okay.” You state confidently. He scoffs. “No offence Y/n but how could you know that?” You shake your head in denial.

“I know more than you’d think… I stayed here for so long because I wanted to take care of Sarah.” You reveal making him look at you curiously. “I-i uhg. I don't need her to take care of me…” You hum. “Then tell her… It’s not going to hurt her feelings, and you’ll feel better about ‘setting her free’. I feel like she’d appreciate it.” You answer simply deep in thought. You didn't even notice when Pietro took off with his phone in hand making a beeline for the back porch. “I did it! I AM THE MAN!” He yells through the house triumphantly. You only nod your eyes heavy with sleep drifting off. You dream of everything, being together with your parents and Sarah. It was truly saddening you were happy as could be until you looked up and their faces were blank and devoid of any facial features. “Y/n?” You hear a soft voice calling your name. You jump up in a cold sweat, tears already forming in your eyes. You feel hands cup your cheeks forcing your eyes to look at them.

You’re slightly surprised to see her intense green eyes looking back at you. Disregarding anything else you wrap your arms around her back and cry. She stiffens slightly in your hold but eventually hugs you back and rubs her hand on your back. “What did you dream about?” She asks carefully when you calm down. “I can’t, I can’t… I can’t remember them.” You pull away abruptly trying to calm your breathing. “You can’t remember who?” She asks. That's when Pietro walks in. “Y/n… What's happening?” You rub your face with your hands meeting his worried gaze. “I can’t remember them Piet…” Realization flashes his face. “Do-do you want to talk about it?” He questions softly. “No, no I just got really scared for a while back there.” Your breathing steadies and you begin to take in your surroundings. Your eyes suddenly land on her and you make a double take. “Oh God, I’m so sorry you had to see that.” You say apologizing for the scene. She chuckles slightly at our embarrassment. “It’s fine. I promise I wont think any less of you.” She teases. Gratefully you take the change in subject and stand. “What are you doing here anyways.” You ask.

“Pietro Invited me late last night and said, and I quote ‘you should totally stop by, I set you free’ weird right?” She reflects. “No, not really It’s Pietro.” You state calmly. She nods. “But, we did want to invite you to hang out this week before I leave.” You say. She almost chokes on her own breath as her brain processes your words. “Wait… You’re leaving?” She questions softly. You nod a little concerned by the lack of reaction. “Uhm, Yes I’m leaving. You know I don’t have Shawn dragging me down anymore… And Sarah well she’s all taken care of now. There's nothing really left for me here.” You say honestly gauging her reactions. She seems hesitant, when her eyes meet yours a smile forms on her face. This made you really look at her… your eyebrows furrow trying to place it, the difference. This was not the smile that you saw all those weeks ago, this one seemed forced, dare you say fake. “That’s great, amazing really… You finally get to leave this place behind.” You grimace at her words and their harsh double meaning. The flash of hurt that passes in your features makes her stop in her tracks. She goes to say something, but you change the subject before she could.

“So, are you spending the week with us… It’s going to be fun.” You ask, completely avoiding her gaze as you stand from the couch. Suddenly feeling the effects of your poor decisions last night, you rush towards the restroom and basically bury your face into the toilet. You hear shuffling and then your hair is out of your face. As you were about to say something another wave of nausea hit. As soon as you're done she pats your back. “Thank you.” You say sincerely. Changing the subject you notice her hand in yours. A small smile passes through your features, when you notice you give it a squeeze before letting go. You could have sworn she was blushing, but before you could make sure she was out of the room. Deciding to give her some space you get ready for the day, and most likely the week. After you’re ready you go down stairs, and find the siblings on the couch watching something on the Tv. “So… what are we watching?” You ask into Pietro's ear. You and Wanda share a laugh watching as Pietro screamed and jumped in his seat. “We were watching reruns while we waited on you.” Wanda states simply.

Pietro clearing his throat knocks you both out of the daze you were in. “Alright now that that’s over…” He says referring to the intense eye contact, he continues. “You two ready to go to the lake?” He asks with a smile forming on his face. You nod and smile when Pietro extends his hand towards you.

Flash Back

“Hey, Y/n Is it okay if Paul brings his friend over?” You hear Sarah ask as she nears your door, leaning on the frame as she waits for your answer. “Yeah of course, but why are you asking me? This is your house as much as it is mine.” You state confused. She chuckles and shakes her head. Leaning closer to you she whispers in your ear. “Paul seems to think you two will hit it off.” She smiles as she pulls back a smug smile on her face as she watches your reaction. Blushing and stumbling over your words you manage to compose yourself before making a complete fool out of yourself. “Need I remind you that I am still dating Shawn?” You ask rhetorically, to which your sister immediately rolls her eyes at his mention. “Well, I don’t like him and neither does Paul. His friend's name is Pietro, I expect you to play nice.” Your sister warns before she wanders off into another part of the house.

Hours later you heard the door open and the sound of laughter grew louder. Sighing internally you made your way towards the dining room where they were all apparently waiting for you. “Hi, I’m Pietro. It's really nice to finally meet you and put a face to the name.” You smile politely and take his hand. “Y/n, Likewise although I have only just heard of you?” You state glaring lightly at both Paul and Sarah. He chuckles nodding, but nonetheless he still pulls out your seat for you. Not long into that dinner Paul gets a ‘call’ informing him of an “emergency” that both he and Sarah had to tend to. After sitting in an uncomfortable silence for what felt like hours you both look up at the same time. Looking at each other for a moment you both break out laughing. “This is extremely pathetic even for Sarah.” You state chugging the rest of the wine in your glass. And to your surprise he nod s and agrees with you. So to pass the time you actually got to know each other, and by the end of it you were practically best friends.

Later Paul would grow to regret his decision to try and set you and Pietro up. You matched each other's energy, and you somehow just understood each other and clicked. A week after that disastrous first encounter you had, formulated and perfectly executed your special hand shake. “If I'd have known you’d steal my best friend I never would’ve introduced you two.” Paul states bitterly as he watches you greet Pietro. At that moment you saw the glint in Pietro's eyes and with the ghost of a nod you both proceeded to walk past him like he didn't exist. The foundation of your friendship with Pietro was your unrelenting desire to make Paul tick. Eventually you both ‘grew out’ of that phase, but still you remained best of friends

End Flashback

Cutting back to present time here you were making a complete fool out of yourself in front of Wanda. You felt so accomplished the first time you and Pietro completed the hand shake, which at this point was not a handshake but a whole two minute choreography. You both had that ‘too much’ gene and you just kept adding to it throughout the years. You felt so badass, as you pulled off each of the steps, but are suddenly brought back to reality when you see Wanda laughing. You both stop and glare at the girl, still laughing. “You look like fools… Oh god and that little thing with the feet, and who thought it was a good Idea to sing that song?” You and Pietro both look at each other, it was a drunken addition of Singing We will rock you. “Don’t mind her Y/n, she lacks any class, and taste.” and easy as that the tables turned. You looked at Pietro and laughed. After that Pietro excused himself and made sure everything was ready for the trip. Before he actually left the house he yelled. “You only hate us cuz you aint us… Keep your jealousy in check.” You chuckle, shaking your head. But promptly stop when you realize Wand wasn't laughing with you.

In that moment realization hit you like a truck and you almost couldn't believe it. “Oh my god, you ARE jealous!” You stated as an amused grin found its way to your face. “Oh, shut up!” She didn't contradict you, but you could tell she was getting a little uncomfortable so you turned it down. “We can make a handshake if you want?” You state looking at her. She smiles and finally that beautiful, real, and truly breathtaking smile shone through. You could’ve died right then and there and you’d die happy. “I’d really like that…”

#wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #pietro maximoff #alternate universe #mini series #marvel #Marvel MCU #Elizabeth Olsen #Scarlet Witch #quick silver #fanfiction #fanfic

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thecitythatdoesntsleep · 3 years

Note

I’m the same anon who requested that collar whump and 🙌 it was so good!!!! if you want to go more whumpy I encourage it!!! The only limit I have is please no explicit smut. I’m fine with implied/referenced just not explicit. Otherwise you can go wild!!! I’d totally love to see it!!! thank you so much!! 💞💞💞

Awwh! I'm so super happy that you liked it, that pleases me greatly to know that it was enjoyable! I insist, for your kind words let me treat you to something extra whumpy!

Limits understood! Let's crank up the whump button and keep that 'too familiar' with Whumpee going. Mind if I add a pinch of obsession into that intimate whumper? You know, as a treat because you deserve it anon! Rewinding time a bit, this is before the first post.

(Tags/TW: Collar whump, Intimate Male Whumper, Female Whumpee, Kidnapping, Stalking, Obsession whump, Choking, Hanging, Swinging by neck, Neck whump, Broken bones, Noncon touching, referenced/implied noncon, Hot/Cold Whumper, Hair pulling, Drugging, Cursing/strong language, Vampire whump. )

"You were too naive, you know that?" Whumper stated, hand gripping a flawless face and watching pretty, gemstone eyes roll in their sockets. "You never saw me, all this time, watching you from afar."

"I hoped you'd notice, I really did. I was so messy a couple of times, I ran right into you and somehow you never even saw me." It almost sounded pained, the way Whumper said it. Thick with emotion as his grip on her jaw became more violent and drew her out of the haze.

"I don't know if I should be insulted... Or happy you're so oblivious to the world around you."

As soon as Whumpee made it through the fog, her features pinched in a grimace and the sight before her wasn't one she'd expected. She recognized him but couldn't place him anywhere, her mind telling her she'd definitely seen him before.

"But you're here now... and you're going to be my pet now. No one will ever know I didn't buy you, I made sure of it." The more he rambled, the more infatuated he became with touching her. First her shoulder, now he was holding her hand, bringing it to his lips for a clammy, tacky kiss.

"Y-You're all mine," He was frantic, panicked as if he was both excited and terrified for what he was actually doing. Having kidnapped and tranquilized her thus far.

"Like.. hell I am.." She rasped, watching him fight off a chuckle and lose almost instantly.

"Hah- You're not going to have a choice. I'm your Master and pets obey their masters." Whumper insisted, reaching for a collar that had been already chained up to a pipe in the basement ceiling. "I'm going to teach you how to behave down here first, then w-wh-when you're broken in, yeah? Then.. Then I'll let you upstairs like a real pet."

He grabbed her up by the hair and she flew into fight or flight as soon as she was lifted off the ground. He was big, she'd give him that. Tall, probably 6'4 and he definitely worked out and enjoyed his carbs at the same time.

She was on the shorter side, but she knew how to use her weight and no matter the tension on her hair; she wormed her whole body to wrench away from him. The force was messy, her system still getting used to the hazy, limpness in her limbs.

"Bad!" He growled in resonating anger, using the grip on her scalp to slam her head into the wall. The first obviously dazed her and the second left her stilling. "You're gonna wear your fucking collar! L-Like a good pet!"

She looked at him with stars in her vision and pain seeping from the back of her head, features cracking with lines of hatred. She could smell it, her skin had split open on the poorly constructed brick wall and it stung when it started fusing back together from her healing speed.

She couldn't let him know just how her body worked or she feared the worst of his wrath. He really seemed like a horror movie villain at this point, the way he stuttered and looked at her with such blatant, scrutinizing attention.

"T-Thats too high, take it down and I'll wear it." She tried to reason, feeling one of his hands grab around the front of her neck while the other repositioned in her hair.

"It's not training if it's not painful.. what would you learn from just wearing a collar?" He questioned, tone acidic like she was a moron for even thinking of suggesting such a thing.

Those damned drugs did her in, if only she'd been at full strength when he tried again to wrestle her over and up to the collar he had waiting on her. She could have thrown him across the room, easily, if he hadn't somehow managed to subdue her. Now it was a struggle to keep herself on the ground as the muscular human kept taking her footing away from her.

She kicked and kicked and even when she landed contact with his legs, she knew it wasn't strong enough to even pull a reaction from him. He eventually won, hoisting her up and latching the thick, chain collar around her neck to entrap her with her own weight. It was just in distance to let the tips of her outstretched toes barely brush the ground.

"There, now you can squirm all you want, you'll just go swinging." He mused, giving her a push by her hips and watching her uselessly grip above her in the swing.

She felt like at any moment, her neck would snap, a grinding sound in her bones giving a warning creak when she reached the highest point. Her vocal chords were ruthlessly crushed against the curvature of the chain and she couldn't stop the faux spasms she felt in long-deadened lungs. It felt like she was a human again, drowning or being smothered, only she hadn't needed real air in decades.

Choking gurgles of begging barely registered past how hard he'd started laughing. She was like a chandelier in a living room that a mischievous housemate knocked into. Swinging in whatever pattern or direction gravity took her until she learned that she'd only stop if she went still.

Finally whumper stopped her and grabbed her backside to lift her up against him, holding her face to face with a devious smile across his face. "You're l-like a piñata. It's kind of cute."

Her hands flew up and in a sound clap, cupped his ears in a deafening impact. Immediately his head started to ring and he dropped her with such force she nearly slammed into him again on the downswing.

Whumper covered his ears and shoved fingers in them, anxiously feeling for blood and unable to hear anything but an ambient whine. He was furious and the stunning pain left him staggering back a few paces to let her endure the remaining momentum. The faintest of garbled blubbering could be heard and it was his only hope that he hadn't been completely deafened.

"You stupid bitch.." He roared, louder than he'd realized in his current state. "Y-You just lost your fucking hands!"

A vicious latch onto one of her arms and his opposite hand grabbed her wrist, twisting and wrenching it beyond it's natural pivot. She grabbed onto his wrists, nails dug in but couldn't stop the force he'd held her with.

The crack was agonizing, it popped so many times and she would have vomited if not for the noose around her neck. The limb instantly radiated pain and fell limp, unable to hold upright on the destroyed joint. Muffled cries were distant to him and even though he was looking her in the face, she sounded soft.

She'd stopped swinging when he grabbed her second arm and gave the faintest of tugs back from his menacing grip. Begging, pleading without shaking her head or making a single noise.

He ignored it. Snapping the second joint in a long twist and the satisfaction that he had with the feeling of breaking a bone was maddening. He savored it, giving an extra roll this time and really feeling the damage he'd done inside her skin.

"I bet you'll behave for me now, wont you?" He picked her up once more, this time leaving space between their upper halves in hesitation. When she left her hands at her sides, he was pleased with the progress they'd already made.

"God, even when you're in pain and have spit all down your face, you're still pretty." Whumper praised, taking his hold on her a bit easier now, lifting her up by the backs of her thighs and encouraging them to wrap around his waist for reprieve.

They did, as disgusting as it felt it relieved the tension on her neck and she was almost grateful in just that short time alone.

He pet her head fondly now, pushing down the strands he'd frizzed and upset and he pulled his sleeve over his hand to wipe her mouth. Her lips hung open like she was panting but no breath escaped her, throat desperately trying to clear with small growls and hacks.

"I've never seen you blush until now, I feel special." Whumper pushed her bangs back and returned down her face with a loving sweep while holding her; thumb tracing her lower lip.

"I can't believe you're finally all mine. I get to keep you forever and ever and... You can't escape me anymore." As if his mind was looping through all the times he'd thought about her or thought about kidnapping her, he stared into her eyes blankly.

Even if she didn't remember, he certainly did. Every encounter, every time he'd sent her a drink at the bar and been to shy to say something. When she flat out rejected him for a dance. The time she'd gotten in a taxi with him and he didn't say anything to her. The week he'd paid for her coffee in the drive thru, strategically, every day getting ahead of her in line.

It had all been worth it.

"You can't reject me anymore. You can't hide.. or brush me off or ignore the gifts I get you." The more he rambled, he less he was looking at her and the more he was looking through her. He framed her body, wrapped along her curves with a curious hand. He abandoned the hold and let her support herself when he couldn't handle not touching her with both of them.

"Now.. I can finally love you how you deserve.."

Sorry it took me so long to get to this anon! I hope this is respectful of your wishes and not too much towards the descriptive side. I also tried to go with the same tropes you'd requested but just make it more miserable. ; ^ ;

I know there is a very thin border to intimate whump and it can transition beyond the boundaries very easily. So if you have any critiquing or things to avoid that could help in the future, I'd love to know so I can gain some more versatility. I would (ideally) love to be able to cater to all requests in all forms and insight will only help me with that goal.

Another apology for the wait. Had some personal life stuff come up and wasn't in the feelings to write much. But I'm back on the rise and I'm hoping to get to everyone's messages and requests within the next few days.

I will not be doing first come first serve, I'm just doing whatever inspires me with this batch. Sorry if anyone thinks that's unfair, it's just how it is for me as a writer. This is 1 out of 7 asks and I don't even remember which ones came first because I immediately convert them into drafts. : ( But thank you so much for the req! Hope you enjoyed. <3

#whump #whump prompts #lady whump #female whumpee #pet whump #pet whump prompts #collar whump #intimate whumper #tw whump #tw broken bones #tw hanging #tw choking #tw abuse #tw implied noncon #tw kidnapping #tw stalking #tw noncon touching #tw obsession #long post

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manic-pixies-dream-girl · 3 years

Text

champagne supernova

genre: angst & fluff

word count: 1.7k

warnings/tags: brief anxiety, panic, alcohol, mentions of weed, mentions of the dark mark

summary: the reader and adrian are old friends with an unkindled love for one another.

a/n: i wanted to try writing adrian pucey, and i probably wont end up getting his character right (sorry in advance). this is one of the pieces that belongs to my song birds collection, this one is based on the song champagne supernova by oasis. i hope you enjoy this mediocre writing. (let me know if i need to add anymore warnings or tags)

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The window glass was chilling in contrast against her heated face. The party was still bustling with life and frevor after what seemed to have been ages. But in reality, the party had only begun a mere two hours before she had decided to rest her head against the glass.

It’s been 24 minutes since that decision. She could’ve fooled people with the thought that she was asleep or passed out.

Not really feeling like sitting against the window any longer, she moved to point her head to where she knew the crowd would be and opened her eyes.

After nearly half an hour of staring at the back of her eyelids, the stark lighting of the venue was blinding. The faces beginning to come back to focus again, she noticed a number of them from school, and among many other pureblood prejudice families like her own.

It’s all bloody stupid in her opinion. Though the same can’t be said for some of her peers.

She, at last, stood up from where she had been seated for far too long, and she wobbled in stance due to her quite numb legs and weak ankles. She cursed at her mother for making her wear heels as she placed a hand against the wall for a moment to regain her balance.

Catching a glimpse of the exit sign, she began weaving her way through the crowd of people.

She had nearly made it to the door when a woman stepped back a few mere centimeters and ended up colliding with her. Just her luck.

The woman turned and spotted her, ever so awkwardly righting herself. Narcissa Malfoy, a beauty she was with her striking white blonde hair and gorgeous blue eyes.

“I apologize, Mrs. Malfoy, I didn’t mean to knock into you. Though for what it’s worth, it is good seeing you again.” She stated hastily, placing her hand on Narcissa’s arm.

“Oh dear, no need to apologize, though I do hope you're doing well,” Narcissa remarked with a loving smile. And she couldn’t help but smile back at her.

“I’m doing just fine, thank you Narcissa.” She rushed out in a much quicker manner than she intended. At that, she then gave Narcissa’s arm a last squeeze and yet again resumed attempting to make her way for the door.

She grabbed the cold metal handle and pushed the door opening it. “Perfect,” she mumbled seeing that the door opened up to a stairwell. Moving towards the flights, she began climbing to where she would hopefully find the roof.

Finally reaching the top after eight levels of stairs, her legs were tingling and her muscles burned, also considering the fact that she was still clad in heels. Taking a moment to regain her breath, and attempting to get some sort of feeling back in her legs, she moved to open the door that would lead her to the roof.

She was left to pull out her wand to unlock the door. “Alohomora.” She whispered, motioning the wand and hearing the click of the lock. She then pushed the door open and stepped outside onto the roof platform.

It was still damp from a drizzle that had only just finished, what seemed to have been minutes before she moved away from the party. She stepped out further, moving to the cement ledge of the roof. She saw that the sun was nearly set and that the lights of London were beginning to brighten in contrast to the growing darkness that would soon accompany them.

The sun's last rays were a deep orange shining through the buildings. She felt surreal in those moments, the sun taking its last breath before divulging beneath the skyline of the city, and the wind brushing against her skin sending shivers of gooseflesh up her arms to her shoulders.

She closed her eyes and she’d have never noticed a tear sneak through the brim of her eyelids and snake down her cheek if it weren’t for the wind cooling it against her flesh.

That's how he found her. Hands propping herself up on the ledge, in a silk black dress cascading down to the middle of her thighs, and of all the things crying while basking in the last sunlight. He thought her the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

He’d brought up a bottle of expensive champagne from the party below, hoping to spend some time with her. He smiled at the thought, remembering the way he’d fancied her since their years at Hogwarts. They’d become quite good friends back then but sadly their friendship had withered quite a bit since their petty school years.

She quickly wiped the tears that had escaped, before she turned to the door hearing it close. That’s when she saw him, she smiled when she noticed that it was Adrian. He was dressed in a tailored black suit that fit him ever so nicely, and the shirt underneath was white and the first two buttons were undone to where she could see his collarbones and part of his chest.

Her eyes then flickered to the bottle he was holding. He noticed and raised the bottle, and an eyebrow accompanied by a smirk. It would be a lie if she said she didn’t miss him.

“Come up here to get me drunk, have you?” She reprimanded, as he moved to accompany her by the ledge.

“No, not exactly. I was hoping to get high as well.” He answered in a teasing manner, moving his hand to reach inside the pocket of his trousers, he pulled out a metal case, with what she could only assume was weed.

“Ah..so mixing our poisons now?” She queried, tilting her head at him as he placed the case on top of the ledge. Noting the way he looked with his tousled chocolate locks, and how a few strands left resting against his brow. He’s undeniably handsome, even more so than when they’d gone to Hogwarts.

She made a move to grab the bottle. When she did this, he saw the mark flash on her left forearm. He grabbed her wrist quickly before she even had time to realize what was happening. She was scared for a moment, scared of how he would react.

She studied his facial expressions carefully as he too examined her arm. He finally flicked his golden-brown eyes up to meet her sacred ones. He was concerned and worried for her, but he had no need to say it, she knew.

She selfishly pulled her arm away hoping that the tension would dissolve, and grabbed the bottle before he could realize it. He watched as she pointedly avoided his gaze, and aimed the cork away from them, and pulled it out causing it to spew a bit onto the already wet cement.

The bottle was so quickly raised to her lips and she drank, she didn’t move the bottle from her mouth for a long few seconds. She’d drank nearly a quarter of it in those moments.

He stepped forward carefully and tried to take the bottle from her hand, she resisted at first but then let go. He set it down to accompany the metal case in the ledge. He pulled her into him placing his arms around her protectively as she nestled into him.

Her breath shuddered and she let out a sob. She’d done so well at holding it together until then. She didn’t want to burden him with all of her issues, that's why she’d dwindled their friendship in the first place. She knew that it was an inevitable outcome so she never allowed herself to get close to anyone.

She tried pushing against his broody figure and backing up a few steps. “You're not oblig- obligated to be here with me Adrian.” She stuttered out still crying and breathing heavily. He only stared at her, tears still streaming down her face, eyes puffy and red, her lips moistened by the fallen tears.

“Don’t let me burden you.” She murmured, her lips formed a pout and she crossed her arms over herself protectively. He couldn't fathom how she’d think that he’d not want to be there for her like he’d been all those times before. It hurt him seeing her like this, and she was pushing him away.

“I’m not here for you. I’m here because I miss you and I don’t know how much longer I can go without you there with me too. You said we’d be together forever, through everything.” His speech made her cry harder. “I’m here for you and I know you’ll be there for me as well. So stop trying to push me away, don’t close yourself off.”

He pulled her back and hugged her, this time to where she couldn’t push away. “I love you.” He whispered mostly to himself.

She pulled her head away from where it was placed on his shoulder. She looked into his eyes and noticed for the first time that they had flecks of green in them. She then glanced down to his lips, a peachy color tinting them, though paler due to the darkness surrounding them.

He looked into her eyes as well noting how they still shined with the glossy tears. He placed his hands on either side of her face and used his thumbs to wipe the tears away. He didn’t notice himself leaning down, but his nose was close to touching her cheek and she had opened her mouth a little.

They were breathing each other's air. His eyes flicked up to hers for a moment only to see that she was just as eager. He closed the gap between their lips, the kiss they shared was full of years worth of passion and unshared love for one another.

Their lips moved together smoothly but quickly making it a messier kiss. But it was perfect for them. He moved one of his hands down to hold her waist and left the other to snake to the back of her neck.

They pulled away both breathing heavily, only to rest their foreheads against each other. The supernova of lights surrounded them and their champagne tainted lips.

He let out a breathy laugh. “You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that.” She smiled back at him.

“I have some idea.”

#adrian pucey #adrian pucey x reader #adrian pucey imagine #adrian pucey fluff #adrian pucey angst #adrian pucey aesthetic #pucey #hp #harry potter side characters

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pizadowa · 3 years

Note

generally a lil nervous to ask, buuut, since I’ve seen a few people chat about how Ivy/the sibs would take care of Carmen when she gets sick, but how would Carmen take care of Ivy if she got sick? I curious to see your take on this 👀 (Carmivy intended?)

oh anon don’t be nervous or shy, this is a very benign ask and I like to think I'm not intimidating 😢..😭

but anywhoooo ... I actually have thought about this before, so I felt like whipping up a quick Ivy POV ficlet rather than strictly talk about Carmen ... :)

-- --

Unlike Zack’s sensitive chemical makeup, Ivy's immune system is built like a supercharged ox, and when it comes to sickness she has vastly more experience being other people’s—namely Zack’s—begrudging caretaker than catching anything herself.

In the nearly three years she’s traveled the world with Team Red, she can count on less than one hand the times she’s fallen ill, and each instance hardly interfered with their capers, not to mention her self-prescribed medicine of “toughing-it-out” has gotten her through even the roughest days. She's not exactly a fan of admitting defeat to a cold, nor being so useless that someone would need to take care of her, especially when that someone is almost always Zack. His questionable understanding of the human body means he's less adept at relieving any real symptoms and more so at keeping her company enough to distract her frazzled, sickly mind. It's not ideal, but it’s the only thing she knows, and it’s better than getting Carmen involved; Ivy would rather their getaway driver catch her sickness than their very important team leader.

So when she wakes up one day in their new HQ to immobilizing muscle pain, a presumably contagious case of the sniffles, and a very concerned Carmen seated at her bedside instead of Zack, she’s more than a little bit freaking out.

“Wh… Carm?” Ivy submerges part of her face under the covers, fearful of spreading her mystery contagion despite their distance. For extra good measure she directs her head away to her night table, taking note of a glass of water and tissues that definitely weren’t there before. “How long have you…?”

Carmen brings one leg onto the bed and curls her palms around it as she speaks, “Not too long. I was actually just wrapping up some sets when Zack ran in screaming like a banshee about you. It’s amazing that didn’t wake you up.”

Ivy’s vision focuses out of its watery haze enough to comprehend Carmen’s tight athletic wear and exposed skin that’s somehow less sweaty than her own. A cold-hot chill sends her into shivers.

“I’m pretty sure that was the demon in my fever dream." She cringes at the sound of her own nasally voice wreaking havoc on her aching head. "Where is he, anyway?”

“I sent him out to the store and had Shadowsan tag along to make sure he doesn’t go overboard with the anecdotal home remedies.”

The imagery has Ivy falling into laughter that quickly becomes a strained coughing fit beneath her thick blanket. Carmen noticeably teeters away, which only adds to the discomfort in her chest.

“Ugh, sorry for the gross sound effects.”

“Don’t be. I had a feeling you wouldn’t be doing too hot in the morning. You were hardly eating and going to bed earlier than Shadowsan.”

“Oh no.”

“Oh yeah. So, all-in-all, I was expecting this.”

“Double ugh.” She buries herself within the bed until the only thing she can see is threaded darkness. The weight by her legs shifts closer, and then there’s a gentle hand on her blanketed bicep. It’s warm even through the fabric.

“Hey, don’t sweat it. Actually, I guess do sweat it if you have a fever. Do you have a fever?”

Ivy’s about to answer when the blanket peels back and the hand that was on her arm presses firmly to her forehead. She blinks past the slender forearm in her view and over to Carmen’s determined face leaning closer with each passing second. For a moment their intense eyes cross paths, lock on to each other before softening completely, and Ivy is overcome with an urge to hold on. To what, she doesn’t know, but one of her hands takes the initiative and reaches up to Carmen’s wrist—which pulls away just as her fingernails make contact with smooth skin.

“You feel warm, but it’s hard to say,” Carmen contemplates aloud and returns to her previous spot on the bed. “We’ll need that thermometer once Zack and Shadowsan are back, but in the meantime, I’m here. Whatever you need.”

Ivy struggles to push a scratchy lump down her throat as she shoves her hand back under the covers.

She's not used to this. Unless it’s Zack—who’s almost too obliging for his own good—she avoids asking for help as much as possible. She prefers to handle most things perfectly well on her own, and she’s since learned her hard lesson of what happens when you owe a debt to others. The very thought of burdening Carmen with something as dumb as a little cold sets her nerves even more haywire.

“You shouldn’t be here,” she grumbles weakly.

Carmen shoots her a look like she's just said a profane insult. "I shouldn't?"

"Yeah, I'm all sick and stuff. Wouldn't you prefer to be...not...sick and stuff?"

"Checking your temperature is nothing. And besides, you were probably contagious days ago. If I got it, I got it.” Ivy’s face contorts into a sarcastic pout, but Carmen preemptively interrupts her griping with a raised hand. “I’m just saying it takes a bit more than that to knock me down, and if I’m fine now, I might as well help out. Seriously, I think I get sick even less than you do."

Ivy pauses to consider it, only able to recall taking care of a Carmen who has been downed by injuries and overexertion, not acute illnesses. Not even a little upset stomach from too much delicious food like she and Zack—though mostly Zack—are wont to do.

"Still, I don't wanna risk it." Ivy shuffles on her back to the farther side of the bed. "I appreciate your concern, Carm, I really do, but I'll be fine. Just send Zack in here once he's back."

"Oh." Carmen frowns at her in a way Ivy’s never received before, and for an intense split second she feels a strange pang of guilt. "Sure, but...this is the same Zack who thought the best remedy for altitude sickness was sticking a fan at the front of the tent to magically blow in more oxygen?"

"Uh—"

"And who once drank a phony herbal miracle cure from downtown that made even his worst food poisoning look like a work of art?"

"Ew-uh, gross!" Ivy scrunches up her entire face, only relaxing it once she sees lightning behind her eyelids. "Okay, okay, I get it. You really don't want Zack taking care of me."

"It's not just that."

With great effort Ivy sits up out of her cocoon for the first time that morning. "What'd'ya mean?"

Carmen twists her torso completely toward Ivy. "You guys are always looking out for me when I'm down for the count. And you, you've been the only one taking care of Zack for how long?"

Ivy offers a small chuckle of understanding. “Too long.”

"Exactly. So the least I could do is return the favor and pamper you for once. I may not be a doctor but I do cook a mean sopa de mondongo, and that's always helped me when I was sick on the isle."

"I don't even know what that is and I feel better already."

"Wait ‘til you actually try it. Funny enough we actually have all the ingredients, but not the basics for treating a nasty cold, go figure."

"Food is the priority around here."

Carmen snatches a glass of water from Ivy's night table and extends it over the bed to her. "Finish this, I'll go get started on the soup. The guys should be back soon with some medicine. Think you can hold out just a bit longer?"

Ivy takes the glass in her hands and peers down at its fullness with a warmth in her chest that crawls up her neck. “Yeah, yeah I think I can do that.”

"Good."

“Oh, and...I’m really happy it’s you here right now. Like, really really happy.” Ivy pauses. “Don’t tell Zack I said that.”

She peers up from her watery reflection to see Carmen beaming at her in silent affirmation, and she does her best to offer the same expression. She takes a few slow sips of her lukewarm drink, fully expecting Carmen to have left by now, but instead the other girl shifts closer on the bed. Closer into Ivy’s space.

"You know,” Carmen starts, her voice husked low despite not needing to, and Ivy can feel her heart beating across every inch of her body, “I'm told I give amazing massages, in case those muscle aches become too much trouble for you.”

She trails her hand along Ivy's covered thigh before lightly squeezing down her ankle, and the peculiar sensations have Ivy frozen with nothing else to do but gawk at her. She offers an unreadable smirk with lidded eyes that cast her mind further into delirium, and walks out of the room without another word.

When she’s fully registered that she’s alone again, Ivy wolfs down the rest of her water, barely managing to fend off a spell of wheezes, and quickly discards the glass to the empty sheets next to her. With a buzzing in her cranium that ripples throughout her entire body, she flings herself down to her pillows to smother her overheated cheeks with a shaky sigh.

"I should get sick more often."

#q #anon #carmivy #mine #carmen sandiego

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sabraeal · 3 years

Text

If All Else Fails Just Play Dead

[Read on AO3]

Obiyuki AU Bingo 2021 Swan Princess AU

There is a boy in her house.

Two boys, actually; not counting Uncle, who is the Margrave Entaepode, or Papa, who acts like he is, or Raj, who everyone simply tolerates because there are worse things than having the first prince adopt your heir as their particular friend, and all of them start with denying said prince what he wants.

(And also because when he’s not trying to flex all his royal powers at once, Raj can be almost tolerable. He at least believes in magic, which gives him a leg up over just about every other boy Shirayuki has known, save for uncle, even if he doesn’t know any himself.)

Sakaki is also not to be counted, though she feels bad about it, on account of how often she typically forgets that Sakaki is a boy and not just some boy-shaped furniture Raj travels with, like how he always brings his pillow and his favorite chair. She’ll have to remember to bring him some extra pastries from the kitchen as an apology.

No, these are two entirely foreign boys, shipped straight from the court of the King Who Isn’t, as her father calls him-- though not within his mother’s hearing. Shirayuki is resigned to make the best of it; Uncle asks for so little, and she is the Lady of the Manor, even if she only comes by the title from a lack of older women to fill it. If she must, she can entertain their guests, but that doesn’t mean she has to like it, not one bit at all.

A shelf rattles, jostling the books on their bindings. Shirayuki’s fingers nearly dint a page as she turns it, but she does not look up. To look up would be to give in, and even if she is charged with entertaining, she does not need to be the entertainment.

It rattles again, now with two giggles to accompany it. Excellent. It seems both her troubles are accounted for.

With a sigh, she collects herself. This is what is fair, after all. It is her duty to see after Entaepode’s guests, and Papa is already taking on the brunt of the Her Majesty’s needs, as well as the marquis’ that travels with her. Not that she would have minded if he wanted to switch; Queen Haruto at least seemed like the sort to enjoy a quiet afternoon in the library.

A leg swings over the top of the shelf, long and skinny and ending in a particularly scuffed boot.

Very much, Shirayuki thinks, slapping her book shut on the table, unlike her son and his companion.

“You’re not supposed to do that.” She means to be mild, but each sound falls so waspish from her lips that it could sting. Oh, Uncle will be displeased when he finds out she was rude to their esteemed guests. “It harms the books.”

A sly, cat’s grin shines down on her as a second leg follows the first. “We’re just on the shelves.” Obi twitches his shoulders in a lazy excuse for a shrug. “It’s not like we’re ripping out pages.”

Of the three of them, he’s older-- oh, well, both boys are older than her, but he’s oldest. Only a few years shy of being a man in his own right; the sort of older that’s supposed to know better. Not that he looks it-- Obi’s supposed to be thirteen, but he’s barely an inch taller than Prince Zen, showing none of the stretch in his limbs that boys his age should before they come into their growth.

His feet dangle, just at the level of her nose, and uncharitable irritation itches in her thoughts. Maybe he’ll be one of those boys who’s small forever, a man in a child’s body. The sort of boy she’ll be looking down on instead of up at, should she get Papa’s height, or Uncle’s.

“The shelves are where the books live,” she tells him officiously, fists high on her hips. “And if you knock it over, then you might hurt your spine, or worse, one of theirs! Or even worse,” she adds with no little horror, “you might tear out a page!”

He blinks, those wide, gold eyes flashing like candlelight. “Huh.”

She conjures up Uncle at his most imperious as she says, “This isn’t a training yard.”

“How would you know?” The shelf wobbles, and a pale white mop heaves itself over it. The second Prince of Clarines is pinch-faced, like he’s always just finished sucking on a lemon, and pale as an invalid. She could believe he was bedridden, from the way he keeps waiting to be served. “It’s not like you’ve ever been on one.”

A breath hisses between her teeth. It’s not from lack of trying, she wants to say; her last birthday, Papa has trousers sewn for her, plus a shirt and waist. He’d promised her a sword, even traipsed her through the halls to the yard, but Uncle had been waiting right at the gate, mouth drawn to a forbidding line.

What are you thinking, Mukaze? She’d heard him growl, her ear pressed tight to the study door. My own heir, and you put a blade in her hand.

If she were a boy, you’d have thought I’d done it too late, Papa had replied, easy as always, the way that would drive Uncle mad. I don’t see the harm--

Of course you don’t. Uncle had never sounded so cold, so bitter as he did in that moment. You never do.”

Her stomach twists, slithering around like a nest full of snakes, only getting more knotted, more sick as she thinks about it. Uncle and Papa were close as brothers, surely--

Surely, she shouldn’t be worrying about this at all.

“Why are you wearing all that black?” she snips instead, ignoring the heat that licks up her neck. “It’s summer.”

It’s not doing him any favors either; all that thick velvet just makes his limbs skinny and his face more drawn, like he’s a skeleton rather than a boy.

The prince stills, legs no longer kicking, lips no longer flapping; just a steady, slow rise and fall of his chest. Obi-- a study of constant motion-- doesn’t even do that; instead he sits, utterly immovable, and stares.

With a voice chilled with the winter he’s never felt, His Highness finally says, “My father died.”

She’d known that, she had. His Majesty died a year ago, her Uncle even told her, their legs pressed tight on his study’s sofa. She liked doing that, lining bone to bone, like they might one day be a matching set, margrave and heir both. Another pair of shoulders to carry the burden of rule, after so many years of an absent, broader pair.

Her Majesty has ever been a bosom companion to this family, he’d continued, a strange tightness to his voice. Now that her mourning is over, she is bringing her youngest son to visit. I’m sure your father would be pleased if you became...as close as they.

So much for that. Uncle would be so disappointed-- not only had she scolded the prince, but she’d insulted him too, and--

And he had started it. Her mouth settles into a thin line, so like Uncle’s.

“So did my mother.” So long ago that she is barely more than a song and a scent. Still, there is no ceding ground, not to Prince Zen; every inch she gives him yields a mile, and he considers it his due. “And you don’t see me walking around in velvet during high summer.”

The prince’s skin is pale as moonlight, the envy of every maid in the manor, but it flushes an angry red now, his body trembling to contain him. “My father, he sputters, leaping off the shelf, “is more important than your stupid mother ever will be.”

Papa praises her for her even-temper. Just like your mother, he laughs, not as boldly as he is wont. You never let anything under your skin. Not like me. Though all our impulse certainly bred true.

Anger, Uncle would say in his soothing voice, every syllable measured, makes a man a fool. You would do well to eschew it if you can, my little girl.

So it is not that Shirayuki is angry; oh no, she is incandescent.

Her finger curl, carving pitted crescents in her palms. For once she is glad that magic is consigned to history books and scholars in their towers, for if she could but call fire to her fingertips, this whole library would be alight. Her mother may be more sense than solid to her, but there is not a stone here she has not touched, and--

Well, Uncle is right, but Shirayuki is content to be stupid.

“Maybe so,” she says, so calm, so even, just as Uncle might. “But at least people liked her.”

For a moment, Prince Zen looms, every line trembling, and she is convinced that he will raise a hand to her, that he will truly treat her as her father’s mouth has earned her. But instead he spins on his heel, stalking out of the library with naught a word.

Wrath leaves her at once, a spirit exorcised from her chest, and oh, she’s dizzy with the lack. Her hand reaches out, meaning to grab for the chair--

But another hand grabs it instead. Shirayuki had never noticed at what a patrician angle Obi’s nose sat, not until he stares down it at her, his face a smooth bronze mask.

“That,” he says, finally sounding his age, “was badly done.”

Had her father sat her down after that terrible, disastrous morning, and told her that one day she would consent to marry the prince, Shirayuki would have--

Well, she would have done something Uncle wouldn’t approve of, surely. And she had, when Papa sat her down not too long after the queen’s carriage disappeared into the horizon, and told her that their union had been agreed upon, dowry and all. But to think she would ever want to, that she herself would gladly make the plans-- impossible.

If only it had stayed that way. If only she had remembered why she’d waved him off at arm’s length every summer, why she’d tossed him in the pond when he tried to kiss her at fifteen and told him he’d have better luck finding a princess of his own species in there. At least then she might be able to scuttle this whole wedding, instead of having Papa and Haruto cluck at her pitifully when she asks, telling her that it would all work out eventually.

After all, hadn’t she loved him just last night?

Shirayuki huffs, rolling to her side. She’s no longer livid, which is an improvement; last night she’d thought quite long and extremely hard about how many tapestries she would need to tear from the walls to get a good, solid bonfire to catch and burn Wistal palace to its very stones. Once she started considering where the custodians might keep turpentine, or whether she could wheedle the key to the cellars out of the chatelaine, she’d forced herself to lay down. Few things had ever made her so angry that they couldn’t be solved by a good night’s rest.

Wrath and rage has cooled, but not to her usual levelheaded calm, the answer filling her with vim and vigor and a dangerous determination. Oh no, instead her fine barrel of fury has turned to melancholy, and with each minute that ticks by, she drinks a deeper draught.

Is beauty all that matters to you?

Even now her breath catches at the roiling confusion in Zen’s eyes. What else is there?

“What was I thinking?” Her fists clench at her sides, but it’s not enough, not until she brings them to her eyes and pressed down, colors sparking across her eyelids. “Why did I...?”

She thought he had changed. They all had, these last few years, hadn’t they? No longer the three children that had tripped over each other in her uncle’s halls, bickering and pinching and causing trouble wherever they roamed. Shirayuki’s temper had mellowed. Zen had grown taller-- or at least tall enough to please him. And Obi--

Obi should be here. And now he’s not, and it’s yet another why she has no answer to.

A timid knock brushes against her door, followed by an even softer, “M-my lady?”

Shirayuki pulls her fists from her eyes, blinking away the blur. “Come in.”

A small girl slinks inside, dark eyes wide and round. “M-my lady...” Her brow furrows. “Your hands are wet.”

She glances down, staring at the fingers laces so tightly in her nightgown. Her knuckles do indeed shimmer in the light, right where they had been pressed along her eyes. “So they are. I...suppose you are here to dress me.”

“Ah...” The maid loses her certainty, eyes darting around the room. “About that...”

Her heart leaps in her breast. “Has something happened?”

“Ah, well.” The girl winces. “There’s a bit of a, um, problem. With the arrangements.”

“The arrangements?” Shirayuki echoes.

“Ah...”

That’s when she hears the screams.

Her twelfth summer marks the moment that this arrangement becomes completely, irrevocably unfair.

“I don’t see what the problem is.” Branches shiver above her, the only sign of Obi a few flashes of black and buckskin and the leaves quivering in his wake. “You two have gotten nearly civil these days.”

“But you’ve gotten tall,” Shirayuki grouses, tucking herself between the roots of the old oak, book sprawled upon her lap. “Any day now you’ll be head and shoulders taller, and what if Zen’s the same? I can’t be the smallest.”

“Well.” She can’t see him, but she knows he settles above her, perched on a branch too precarious for his size. “You are a girl.”

“That doesn’t mean I can’t be tall.” A finger taps against the page, thoughtful. “Haruto is.”

“For a lady.”

“For anyone,” she corrects primly. “It’s fine enough for you to be tall-- you’re tolerable. But Zen...” She grimaces. “His height it the only thing that keeps him humble. The king isn’t tall, is he?”

“He is,” Obi informs her with relish. “Almost taller than my father, and he’s not done growing.”

She pictures it, Zen being able to look Haruka square in the eye, and shudders.

“I was afraid you’d say that.” Shirayuki sighs, finger knitting in her lap. “Uncle should forbid you from coming. You can stay for now, but next summer is right out.”

It’s strange how even though she can’t see him, she can feel his grin on the air. “I’m sure nothing would make him happier.”

“Or me,” she admits, wistful. “What good neighbors Zen and I might be, if we never had to look at each other again. Save for weddings and births and funerals, of course. And you’d always be welcome, Obi.”

“Thanks.” He drops down one of his too-long legs, toes curling in the air above her, the only visible part of him. “But I wasn’t talk about the Young Master.”

Shirayuki blinks, mouth curving in confusion as she parses his words. “You can’t mean Uncle.”

Obi leans, just enough for her to see his dubious, arched brow. “Why not?”

“Uncle’s always liked Zen.” He’d been the one to calm her when she’d come crying, distraught that Papa would make her marry a boy as pompous as him. Plenty of boys grow out of their pettiness, little girl, he’d told her, smoothing the wild riot of her hair, at least as many that don’t. “Even now, he’s with him, showing him the march.”

“Only because your father asked him,” Obi says, settling back into the canopy. “The next Margrave Entaepode needs to know what his lands can bring. Especially if he means to bring them to his brother.”

Shirayuki frowns. “I’m the next Margrave Entaepode.”

“No,” Obi hums. “You’re the next margravine.”

Shirayuki is not sure what she expects when she walks into Clarines’ great hall, but it is certainly not carnage.

“What happened?” she breathes, picking her way over a toppled chair. There’s not a scrap of fabric that’s not torn, not a table nor chair without a wobble. Flower petals lay strewn on the ground, and the cake--

“Oh no,” she sighs, “I was so looking forward to desset.”

It’s toppled, every tier crushed to the stone beneath it, buttercream and jam and custard smeared up and down the aisle. It had been a gift from the Seirans; Zen had been so excited to know their much-beloved cook had made each layer with him in mind-- Except one, Obi reminded him, swiping a bit of cream from a spoon. You know who Cookie loves best.

“A beast did it,” the steward tells her, near to tiers. “Knocked it over, then even stopped to take a bite.”

“Three bites,” a maid chimes in. “Odd, it was. I could have sworn it thought about it too, just stood there looking as Cook came in, shouting to high heaven, and ate its share.”

Shirayuki glances down. “Flew? As in-- with wings?”

“Yes,” the steward agrees, “it had wings, and a mouth with cruel teeth.”

“There weren’t no teeth,” the chatelaine snaps waving the wailing man off. “It was just a bird. Swan, I think, from the size. And the meanness. Came in here like a holy terror, it did.

“It was a beast with teeth,” the steward insists, “and it bit one of the footmen!”

The chatelaine huffs. “What did you expect, trying to grab it like that?”

Shirayuki can’t help but agree; she’s bitten more than a man or two that tried to catch her as well. But that’s not what has her attention now; instead it is the cake on the floor, those three big bites out of it, baring chocolate sponge and raspberry custard. The layer Cookie made special. The one she thought would go to waste when...

“Where is he now?” At their looks, she amends, “I mean, it. The beast.”

“Outside,” the steward says, sending a narrow look toward the door. “A few of the maids managed to chase it out, but I’m afraid it will have gotten into the decoration-- my lady, where--?”

“I’d like to take a look,” Shirayuki calls back, slippered feet already carrying her to the door. “I, ah, think I might know how to solve this...problem?”

The steward blinks. “Is there some...Tanbarunian folk tradition for this? Ridding the grounds of a foul beast?”

Her feet stutter at the threshold, and she swallows down a laugh. “Certainly something for removing one fowl.”

At thirteen, Shirayuki will admit, Zen becomes tolerable. Not without extreme duress, and certainly never if Obi is around, but being in his presence no longer feels like slivers under her fingernails. Now it’s just that unpleasant drone of cicadas, the same that herald his arrival every summer.

“Are you supposed to be climbing?” she asks, settling herself at the base of the tree’s trunk, as always. “Your mother won’t thank you for ruining those trousers.”

Obi laughs, already deep in the canopy. “I think you mean his laundress.”

“I have plenty more,” Zen scoffs, levering his boot over another knot, giving him the height to reach the first branch. “And I think you’re only so cross because you can’t climb for beans.”

She retracts her opinion. His Highness has certainly not become tolerable in the least.

“Come off it,” Obi laughs, so easy in his bower. “Anyone can climb.”

Zen grins down at her with smug authority. “Not Shirayuki, she’s a girl.”

“So is Kiki,” Obi reminds him, “and if she heard you talk like that, she’d come up and throw you off that branch herself.”

“Kiki hardly counts as a girl--”

“--That’s not what Mitsuhide would say--”

“--And that doesn’t mean Shirayuki can,” Zen adds, tone brooking no argument. “She doesn’t even have trousers on.”

“Shirayuki can climb in a dress just fine.” Obi swings down, right to the lowest branch. Or rather, the second lowest, since Zen hasn’t vacated the first. “Come on, I’ll tell you how.”

She spares the tree a dubious glance. “Are you sure--?”

“Always. Don’t you trust me?” He lowers down a hand, callused and bronzed, and she takes it. “Good, now put your foot there. Now just...think up.”

She sends him a dubious look. “I don’t think it’s possible to just go up by thinking it.”

He grins down. “You’d be surprised.”

Shirayuki is definitely ruining her dress.

“You’re sure it’s up here?” she calls down, a worried swarm of footmen huddling beneath her. “Waterfowl aren’t really...tree-dwelling birds.”

“I’m sure, my lady,” one pipes up beneath her. “Took to wing, then hopped up the branches easy as you please.”

Shirayuki casts a long look up the oak, sighing. “Of course he did.”

One slippered foot lifts, hooking over a thicker branch, resting her weight right by the trunk.

“Just think up,” she murmurs, irritation rising with every word. “Just think up and it’s hardly anything at all.”

“HONK,” agrees the goose above her.

“Oh.” She blinks, taking in the sleek white body and the webbed feet tucked unnaturally beneath it. Well, not that the pose was unnatural, but the place. “You’re not a swan at all.”

“HONK,” the goose informs her, wistful this time.

“Be glad,” she says, reaching for him. “If you were any bigger, I wouldn’t be able to carry you, and you’d be stuck up here with your big wings and bad decisions.

The goose ducks it head, abashed. “HONK.”

“You better,” she starts, trying to wrangle a bird his size beneath her arm, “be exactly who I think you are.”

This close, her fowl friend doesn’t dare express his opinion at the only volume nature saw fit to give him, but instead, cuddles right against her neck. For one, weak moment, Shirayuki leans against the trunk, letting her head sink into his feathers. Please let this be him. If it is, she can worry about the how later. Maybe even the why. As long as he hasn’t abandoned her, there’s nothing--

“Not to interrupt you,” a lady’s languid voice drawls beneath her. “But I’m assuming that you might need some help getting down.”

Fifteen is when Shirayuki is made aware of just how utterly unfair her life will be from now on, now that she’s to be the wife of a prince.

“No, no,” Obi laughs, nervous. “I think the Young Master has it right this time, Miss. You can’t come.”

“Why not?” He’s gotten much taller now, taller even than when he arrived, and she has to look up to guilelessly meet his eye, much more than she’s used to. “If I can climb trees with you, I can splash around in a pond just fine--”

“Yes, but--” his mouth split into a pained grimace-- “climbing trees doesn’t involve taking off clothes. You can see how that might be a, hm, problem now, can’t you, Miss?”

“No.”

His exasperation is completely unwarranted, considering how exasperating he’s being. “You’re a lady.”

“One that can swim,” she counters. “We’ve done it before, I don’t know why it’s bothering you now.”

“Because you’re...” He waves a hand at her, a harried up and down, but she only stares back. “Of all the things for Master to leave to me...”

“I can keep my shift on,” she offers, “if that helps.”

“It really doesn’t, Miss.” Obi sighs, one hand coming up to rub at his shoulder. “Surely your father-- no, your uncle. Surely your uncle’s talked to you about how boys and girls shouldn’t, um...you know.”

“I don’t.”

“It’s just...” He takes a steeling breath. “Miss, you’re a woman now. You can’t be naked with men.”

She wrinkles her nose. “I said I would wear my shift. And besides, you’re not men, you’re boys.”

Obi head rolls heavenward. “Only to you.”

Shirayuki gives him a considering look and pulls out her trump card. “Would you let Kiki Seiran come?”

She doesn’t know this Kiki Seiran, not from anything more than what’s been said in her presence, but she knows-- whatever a man does, Kiki does, and better too. The moment her name leaves her lips, Obi drops her a helpless glare.

“Kiki,” he says, as if savoring the word, “doesn’t count. No one lets Kiki Seiran do something, she just does it, and we all live with the consequences.”

A fond smile flickers across his lips, and for no reason at all, her stomach twists. “You should marry her.”

Obi blinks. “Huh?”

“Kiki Seiran,” she says lightly. “It seems she’s really quite impressive.”

For a long moment he stares at her, unblinking. Then he coughs, one, twice, until it’s no longer a cough but roaring laughter.

Shirayuki stares at him. “Is something funny?”

“Oh, Miss,” he wheezes. “That’s some vote of confidence, but Kiki Seiran-- she’s not for the likes of me.”

The sick knot in her stomach dissipates into affront. “Why not? There’s nothing wrong with you.”

“Again, you really know how to compliment a man,” he teases. “But no count worth his acreage will marry his daughter and heir to a bastard. With her pedigree, they’re probably planning to marrying her to Elder Highness as we speak.”

“Well, that’s silly,” she huffs. “You’re worth a thousand princes Obi. Any lady would be lucky to have you.”

His smile wavers. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”

“You should bring her next time,” she decides. “I can talk to her.”

“Ah,” he coughs, shaking his head as he traipses after her. “That won’t be necessary at all.”

This is not how she thought she’d meet the illustrious Kiki Seiran, her wedding dress torn to rags and goose hugged tight in her arms, but it would not be the first time today fate thwarted her expectations.

“I’m fine,” Shirayuki assures her, slowly making her descent. “But do you have, um, water?”

One elegant brow arches. “Water?”

“Ah, yes.” She drops down before her-- oh, Lady Seiran is...quite a bit taller than she’d imagined, and at least twice as pretty. No wonder Obi always smiled when he talked about her. “Like a, um, lake? Or a river might do?”

“A lake?” Her gaze drops, mouth canting into a thoughtful line. “For your avian compatriot, I suppose. You think his home must be close by.”

“Yes,” she lies, because babbling about ancient texts she’s certain she was never supposed to see and magic of the blackest sort seemed a poor first impression to make. “It would probably, uh, help with the...destructive behavior.”

“He has left quite a spectacle behind. It will take hours to clean that up. Or days,” she adds with a pointed look toward the goose. “Your wedding seems to be thoroughly postponed.”

Good, she doesn’t say. This Kiki Seiran is Zen’s friend too, after all. And even if Shirayuki could have shaken him to pieces last night, she’s that too.

“Water?” she says instead.

It’s the right thing to say, since Kiki turns around, gesturing toward the treeline. “There’s a pond back there. Just follow the cobblestone path and it should take you right out to the dock.”

“Perfect.” Shirayuki takes two hurried steps before pausing, turning over her hip to add, “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lady Kiki. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

There’s that brow again, lifted into an elegant arch Shirayuki could never hope to mimic. “Only good things, I hope.”

Her stomach lurches as she replies, “The best.”

#obiyukibingo21 #obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #swan princess au #my fic #ans #listen this is another fic where like #i want to write the 50K lead up #the political intrigue that leads to this whole arrangement #and the magic #and obi and shirayuki and zen as kids who BARELY like each other and then become besties and then have this LOVE TRIANGLE #the whole terrible relationship between Uncle and Mukaze and Shirayuki's Mom and Haruto and KAIN #sideplots with Izana and Raj #like guys i have THOUGHTS #one day i'll come back around and write more of this #or someone will make me #WHO KNOWS #😂

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phoneybeatlemania-bit-the-dust · 3 years

Note

hii can you do "not everything is a joke"?

4. “Not everything is a joke.”

“Just fuck off John.” Paul stated in response with an exhausted, blunt edge, as he started to make his way away from the table at which the two sat with their mates. John just smiled cruelly at this, taking another sip from his beer – but somewhere deep beneath that smile, a part of him was panicking, as echoes of abandonment raced through his mind.

He didn’t think too much of the argument for a couple days, until he tried giving Paul a ring.

“Hello?” an optimistic voice that could not be mistaken for anyone other than Paul picked up.

“Right there Paul? Its John-”

He interjected, “I know who it is.”

“D’you wanna go out tonight? Im bored outta me fuckin’ mind here.”

There was a pause. And then a sigh. And then, “John, I don’t wanna talk to you right now.”

“You what?” He laughed slightly, it seemed he scarcely could believe Paul was being serious right now.

“I don’t wanna see you right now, and I don’t wanna talk to you either.”

John took a moment to absorb this, then mumbled, “This yer dads doin’ Macca?”

“Listen, ive gotta go John. Bye.” He hung up.

For the next week or so, John would attempt repeatedly to ring Paul and engage him in conversation, but Paul would simply just hang up once he’d heard Johns voice. Finally, this abandonment had built up a blockage within John, and he was prepared to explode.

He went round to the McCartneys estate, but after knocking on the door he was met with Mikey, Pauls brother.

“Right there John?”

“Yeah, ‘m fine,” a blatant lie, “is Paul in?”

“Nah - he’s out with some girl.” Something inside began to crumble within John after hearing that - though of course he’d had to hide that hurt.

“D’you know- d’you know where they are?”

“Well, they should be down the cafe, but I dunno if they’d still be there.”

“Ah well, cheers mate.”

He’d spotted them within seconds of entering the cafe - though they were still yet to see him. Infuriated and irrational, he walked over to Paul and the girl he was sat with.

“Busy are ye Macca?” he interjected aggressively. Paul wanted to refuse to deign him with a response that would allow John to engage him in an argument, and so he only replied bluntly, “Yeah. I am, John.” John wasn’t leaving though, instead he actually took a seat beside Pauls.

“Busy doin’ what then? Shagging?” Paul looked over to the girl, and he saw a blush cross her faced, however, John continued coarsely, “Fucking?”

He wanted to remain calm, but instead he spat back, “Fuck off Lennon!”

“Embarrassing you, am I?”

“Yeah, you are actually.” He responded irritatedly.

“Good.” He forced a wicked smile to conceal the immensity of the pain that lay beneath it, in his ever-fractured mind and self. He continued, drawing closer to shouting, garnering more attention from those around him, “Why wont you return my fuckin’ calls?”

“I dont wanna do this here John.”

“I dont give a shit Paul - answer me bloody question.”

Knowing there was no reasoning with John, Paul reluctantly gave in, “Fine. Fine - but im not doin’ it here mate.” He stood up, and John naturally followed him with a desperate willingness. “Ill be back in second Ro’.”

Rose, the girl Paul was with, dropped him a smile and a sweet, “Okay,” before Paul existed with John, entering the cafes emptied bathroom.

“Im not happy about that shit you just pulled there John.”

“Yeah? Well im not too fuckin’ happy with you either ye twat.”

Paul disregarded this, continuing, “I mean - have you no self control mate? I was only ignoring you for a fuckin’ week, and you go mad like that! And ye haven’t even apologised-“

“Fer fucks sake mate - it was a fuckin’ joke!”

“Yeah, well not everything is a bloody joke, Lennon. Alright. I don’t appreciate you comparing me all the time to fuckin’ bird,” perhaps he might have gotten through to John here, had he not mumbled the added detail, “’sides, you’re the one who normally…you know. You’re usually the bird.”

***

Ive gotta be honest, im really not proud of this fic :( I dunno what it is but I just struggled with writing it for some reason, despite liking the prompt and my idea for it. I dunno, but I feel like ive gotta publish it by now cause its been quite a few days since I said id write fics and I didn’t want anyone to feel like I was just ignoring them or anything.

(PS im not just saying all this so that I can get people to compliment my work or anything, like im fine y’know just a little little little disappointed and dissatisfaction with my work here, and so I just wanted to add that I don’t think this fic is really up to par and sorry i dunno im rambling whoops) (but im fine lol)

#mclennon #fanfic #my work

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thr-333 · 4 years

Text

Mismatch- Part 3

Bio Dad Bruce Wayne Month 2020

Ah Irony, I trust this wont be the last I’m seeing of you

First < Previous > Next

----

‘Sorry, Nino told Adrien that you guys said to go ahead!?’ Chloe explained.

“Looks like Liela’s at it again,” Marion tells Marinette.

“Of course she is,” Marinette was already hailing a cab

‘Lila must have told Alya who told Nino or something’ Marion responds.

'I am so sorry we’ll come back to get you’

‘Dont worry bout it we’re getting a cab’

‘Dont let kags kill anyone’ He adds

‘No promises’

Marinette grabs Marion by the arm, dragging him over to a cab. Just as she's about to climb in someone grabs her, arm pulling her away. Reflexes kick in and she makes a jab at their stomach. They block her punch, but let go of her arm. Marinette looks up to see a black haired blue eyed boy who couldn't be any older than them.

“This isn’t a real cab,” He explains quickly, taking his phone out to snap a picture of the stunned driver.

“Oh? Oh!” Marinette processes, realising she just tried to punch him for helping her, “I am so sorry!”

“It’s ok, good reflexes,” He compliments, they step away from the cab as it speeds away, “I’m Tim,”

“Marinette,” She shakes his offered hand, “This is Marion,”

“Hi, thanks for that,” Marion nods towards where the ‘taxi’ was, “How could you tell?”

“You live around here long enough you learn to spot them,” Tim answers, “are you two french?”

“Yep,” Marinette chirped, “We’re on a class trip,”

“Where’s your class?” Tim frowns looking around.

“Ummm… they kinda….” Marinette looked down at her shoes.

“Left us,” Marion finishes for her.

“They left you? In Gotham?” Tim asks, the twins nod avoiding eye contact.

“Where are you staying? I’ll drive you there,” Tim decides.

“You don’t have to do that!” Marinette gestures wildly, wide eyed.

“We’ll be fine on our own,” Marion adds, because yes they did almost get in a fake cab, but it wasn't as if they couldn't have dealt with it.

“It’s all right,” Tim tells them, scanning the cars around, “Look my rides here,”

The twins turn to see a limo pull up, a well dressed driver steps out of the vehicle.

“Good Evening Master Tim, how was your trip?” He asks, taking Tim’s bag.

“It was fine Alfred,” Tim says, “would you mind if we dropped these two off at their hotel?”

“Not at all, Master Tim, I am Alfred Pennyworth,” Alfred greets the twins, “May I ask your names,”

“Uh, Marion, and this is Marinette,” Marion replies, “You really don’t have to, we’ll be fine,”

“It’s no trouble at all,” He tells them, “Where are you staying?”

“Wayne hotel,” Marinette goes to grab her bags to find them gone, turning to see Alfred already placing it in the trunk.

“Witchcraft,” Marion whispers to her, Marinette nods. She always made sure to at least be touching her backpack, as it held the Miracle box.

“Come in,” Tim offers, already sitting in the Limo.

The twins concede climbing in after Tim a little awkwardly. He had somehow gotten ahold of a travel cup and was holding it like a lifeline.

“I’m surprised you're staying at the Wayne hotel for a class trip,” Tim takes a gulp of the probably scalding hot coffee.

“Marinette submitted an amazing essay to the Wayne Foundation and won the trip for the whole class,” Marion dodges her kick, Tim hides his smirk behind his cup.

"We submitted an essay,” Marinette corrects, glaring at Marion for shaking his head.

“Thank you for the ride,” Marion changes the topic.

“No problem, I really don’t mind, the longer I stay away from the manor the better,” Tim replies sleepily.

“Why's that?” Marinette questions, concern written all over her face.

“Loud, too many siblings” Tim quickly clarified, “I need more time with my coffee before I deal with them,”

“I think I can relate,” Marion mutters, ignoring Marinette's look, “How many siblings do you have?”

“Officially? Thr-Two brothers,”

“Unofficially?” Marinette prods.

“Feels like half of Gotham most the time,” Tim sighs, making them chuckle.

“You two must be twins?” Tim guesses.

“Unfortunately,” Marinette sighs.

“You love me,” Marion scoffs.

“Unfortunately,” Marinette repeats, Tim cracks a smile.

“If it's any consolation you seem to get on much better than I do with my siblings,” Tim takes another long sip from his coffee.

“If it’s any consolation we’re always fighting,” Marion parrots, sharing a knowing glance with Marinette. Fighting? Yes. Fighting each other? Only when Chat Noir gets brainwashed.

“So what are you looking forward to in Gotham?” Tim asks.

“Lots of things,” Marinette and Marion start to tell Tim all about their(civilian) plans. Tim suggests places every now and then, he points out the hotel as they start to get closer.

“Ah!” Marinette exclaims, turning to Marion, “We were meant to check in as a class, will they even let us in?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure they do,” Tim assures them. When they pull up at the hotel Alfred opens the door and Tim gets out with them.

“Thank you so much,” Marinette takes her bags from Alfred, giving him a smile.

“You’re welcome Miss,” Alfred smiles back.

Marion also gives his thanks and they follow Tim into the building. Marinette admires the architecture, brainstorming ideas for designs. Perhaps she can make improvements to the outfits they’ll be using at the concert. Tim goes straight to the front desk and explains the situation. The receptionists hands over the room keys, telling them their classmates had already grouped up, three to a room.

“That was surprisingly easy,” Marion muses, as they walk towards the elevator, “Thank you,”

“My pleasure,” Tim answers easily, as they step into the elevator, “I must be off,”

They give their goodbyes, letting the doors close as Tim walks away.

“He was nice,” Marinette hums in agreement.

“Hopefully there's more people in Gotham like him,” They step out of the elevator.

“There will be,” Marion assures, “Meet back here when they go to sleep?”

“No, I’ll text you when everyones asleep and you can teleport in,” Marion nods, both know Kaalki won’t be impressed.

They go their separate ways. Marinette knocked on the room door that was opened a few moments later by Kagami.

“I am sorry,” Kagami immediately apologizes, “I should have known better and asked you myself,”

“Don’t worry, we’re fine,” Marinette gives the girl a hug, rolling her suitcase into the room.

“Marinette, you need to see this place, although it’s as good as daddys hotel,” Chloe grabs her by the arm. Leading her through the well furnished and decorated living room with a kitchenette to the side.

“You do live in the penthouse suite,” Marinette looked out the floor to ceiling window, displaying the view of the city, itching to grab her sketchbook.

“True, but they didn’t put me in the penthouse, so it's their loss,” Chloe guides her to a room with a large bed, bedside tables with flowers on them and a mirrored closet door. “This is yours,”

Marinette went to grab her suitcase only to see Kagami behind them with it. She thanked her and got settled in. Once she was unpacked they sat together in the living room to talk about tomorrow.

“You’d better not go wandering off, Gotham is dangerous,” Chloe wagged her finger at Marinette.

“And you’re going to protect me?” Marinette threw a couch cushion at her.

“Well, duh, I was Queen Bee,” Chloe bragged, catching the cushion and throwing it right back.

“For, like, month, years ago,” Marinette caught the pillow, sending it to Kagami, “Weren’t you replaced with Bumble Bee?”

“It was a mutual decision,” Chloe caught the pillow that Kagami hesitantly threw to her.

“Right,” Marinette said in a disbelieving tone, knowing full well that Bumble Bee was just Chloe’s new alias. “I think I’d rather stick with Kagami,”

“Rude,” Chloe threw the pillow at her.

“Didn’t we all agree Kagami was as good as any bodyguard?” Marinette asks, throwing the pillow to said girl.

“Excuse you, we said she was better than any bodyguard,” Both gave her inquisitive looks, “What? I’m just stating facts!”

“Of course,” Marinette caught the pillow, still smiling.

“I am!”

“I believe you,” Marinette threw the pillow back at her.

“No you don’t!” Chloe throws the pillow forcefully at her.

“Whatever gave you that idea?” Marinette chucks the pillow to Kagami.

“You’re infuriating Dupain-cheng,” Chloe huffs, catching the pillow from Kagami.

“I can show you some… moves,” Kagami hesitantly speaks up, as Chloe throws the pillow at Marinette, “For self defence,”

“Sure,” Marinette puts the pillow down, standing up with Kagami.

They spent the next half hour with Kagami instructing Marinette on basic fencing moves. With the cardboard wrapping of the now empty Toblerone block.

“Where is she going to get a sword?” Chloe was scrolling through her phone, “Unless you want her to carry that around everywhere,”

“What do you suggest?” Kagami challenges defensively.

“Like this,” Chloe takes over, showing both Marinette and Kagami how to break out of certain holds to get their arm free or how to disarm an opponent.

“Where did you learn this?” Marinette watches as Kagami practices the motions of disarming Chloe's hairbrush gun.

“I told you, I was Queen Bee and I took that job seriously,” Chloe drops the hairbrush, Kagami kicking it away.

“Didn’t you tell all of Paris your identity and then send a train out of control,” Kagami asks, retrieving the hairbrush.

“I was young and naive,” Chloe sighs dramatically, had to her forehead.

“Three years ago?” Marinette stands up to try and disarm Chloe now.

“Four actually,”

“Oh, my mistake,” Marinette rolls her eyes trying not to disarm Chloe too quickly.

They carry on a little longer before Marinette sends them to bed.

“We have an early day tomorrow, we don’t want to be late,” She pushes Chloe towards her room.

“Coming from you? That’s rich,” Chloe laughs.

“Whatever, go to sleep,” Marinette closes the door on Chloe's protests.

“Goodnight Marinette,” Kagami nods, walking to her room without a fuss.

Marinette goes to her room, firing Marion a text.

“Alright dude,” Nino turns to Marion, “I’m with Alya, we all know who Adrien has a crush on-”

“Everyone!?” Adrien sits up from where he’s lying on the couch.

“Yes, everyone,” Nino deadpans.

“What about Marinette?” Adrien turns pleading eyes to Marion.

“Oh not Marinette, she's as clueless as you,”

“What’s that meant to mean?” Adrien frowns defensively.

“Anyway,” Nino interrupts, “Dude, who do you have a crush on?”

“Ummmm,” Marion shifts uncomfortably from where he’s perched on the couches arm rest, “... It’s sort of a celebrity crush,”

“Oh? who?” apparently that was not the answer that would make him lose interest.

“It’s not really important, not like anything could happen,” Marion looks at Adrien for help, but he seems just as curious as Nino.

“Just tell us,” Nino pushes.

“It’s a hero,” Marion immediately realises that just got them more interested. “... From Gotham,”

“Batman?” Adrien guesses.

“No!” Marion shouts, “No! He’s old enough to be my dad, geez,”

“Alright, alright, who is it?” Nino placates leaning forward on his arm chair.

“..... Red hood,”

“Isn’t he a rouge?” Adrien asks.

“No!.... Maybe, he’s still a hero ok?” Marion curls up defensively.

“Why do you like him?” Adrien is grinning, shifting closer to Marion.

“I don’t know,” Marion rolls off the armrest, onto the couch next to him.

“You have to like something,” Nino gets up to sit on his other side.

“I don’t know, maybe because he looks good in his suit?!” Marion shouts.

“You’re not that shallow,” Adrien pokes him in the stomach.

“Ugh, fine,” Marion relents, “He works with Batman right?”

They both nod.

“He’s just so unlike everyone else he works with, I just kinda…. admire how he can just be…. be himself.” Marion curls up under his friend's stares.

“You’ve put a lot of thought into this,” Adrien teases, Marion huffs.

“He does look good in his suit though,”

“Wait a minute, is this why you always wear that MDC outfit?” Nino is clearly holding back laughter.

“No!” Marion bushes at the memory.

They were doing a practice interview about his newest song. Marinette had designed his outfit based on Red Hood's. It was something he had endured endless teasing over as he insisted everything had to be perfect, not that the great MDC would make anything less.

“Were there any problems that arose from the design MDC?” The interview asked, moving onto the outfit choice.

“We had some minor disagreements about the hood,” Marinette gestured to the outfit Marion was wearing. A red hoodie underneath a faux leather jacket(not that you could tell) on the back there were flying red bats embroidered up the side. He was wearing a black domino mask with red detailing in place of the helmet. It was the outfit they chose to alter into their vigilante costumes.

“She was getting very frustrated over it,” Marion teased, “I told her it didn’t need one,”

“His name is Red Hood! Why doesn't he wear a Hood? Robin wears a hood,”

“He looks cool without it,” Marion defended.

“You’re just saying that, cause you have a crush on him,” Marinette teased in a sing-song voice.

“MD!” He shouted, pulling the hood up to hide his blush, MDC laughing at him, he groaned. “Please tell me the cameras aren't rolling,”

“Don’t worry, nothing we say is being recorded,” The interviewer was luckily professional enough to not laugh, but was certainly amused, “I take it we will be omitting that from the real interview?”

“Yes!”

Unfortunately for him one of the staff members had been secretly recording. They leaked the footage online, getting fired, but not sparing MCD from the whole world finding out. The fanbase had been going crazy ever since they announced their concert in Gotham. Many imagining meet-cute moments or theorising that they were already dating. He shakes his head at the memory.

“I just think it looks cool,” He comes back to the present.

“Because it’s based on your crush?” Adrien teases.

“Nope, you don’t get to tease me about this, I haven't seen you not wearing something Marinette made you in years,” Marion cuts Adrien off with a raised eyebrow, looking down at his Ladybug onesie Marinette made him.

“Fine,” Adrien turns to Nino, “It’s up to you now,”

“Has Marinette made you anything Red Hood related?” Nino grins.

“Nooooo,” Marion moans, draping over the couch.

“Do you have a onesie based on him as well?” Marion finds his saving grace when his pocket buzzes.

“Stooooooooop,”

“Never this is too good,” Nino teases, “Did you bring it with you?”

“That's enough for tonight!” Marion claps his hands, standing up.

“Awwwww,” They both moan in unison.

“Nope! I don’t have to put myself through this, goodnight to you,” Marion walks straight to his room before they can protest further.

He locks the door behind him. Plagg and Kaalki are in the room chatting, they fly over to Marion.

“You ready to go Kaalki?”

“I am not meant to be used for something as trivial as a taxi,” The Kwami complains.

“We just need to grab out suits, this will be the only night, I promise,” The Kwami gives him a nod, “Kaalki full gallop,”

He transforms and opens a portal into Marinette's room.

“Ready Bug?” He asks, stepping into the room. He opens another portal to their room in Paris.

“Of course,” They step through the portal, followed by their Kwami’s, into their room as quietly as possible.

Marion drops his Marinette pulls out their costumes from the closet. They were disguised to look like regular clothing, but could be altered to quickly change.

“I don’t know how you talked me into this,” Marinette takes the hoodie he usually wears, reaching under a secret fold and unzips the hood.

“Come on bug, our hero-selves cant be seen in Gotham, and you know full well we wouldn't stand aside if someone was getting hurt in front of us,” Marion takes the body of the hoodie from her, flipping it inside out to the black side.

“True, but why do we have to do nightly patrols?” Marinette finishes pulling on her leggings, flipping her usual white jumper with a cherry blossom pattern inside out to the same red shade as the hood.

“It would look pretty suspicious if we just showed up when our class was in danger, now wouldn’t it,” Marion fasten the yellow belt around his waist, slipping his baton into the holster and pulls on his on his boots, hopping slightly.

“I think you just want to be a vigilante,” Marinette takes his Red Hood jacket, flipping it inside out to black with yellow trim.

“Well, it’s exciting isn’t it?” Marion takes what would usually be Mainette's skirt, flipping the pink inside out to the green and unzipping it along a black line, “We get to test out our skills without miraculous, and we don't have the fate of the city resting on our shoulders,”

“You could a least try to take it seriously,” Marinette flips her beanie inside out to the black side. Pulling it on after the severed hood, lining the holes up with her eyes and pulling the hood up.

“I am taking this very seriously,” Marion says with the biggest grin. Taking Marinette's infinity scarf, running his hands across it to find the secret fold. Flipping it inside out to a green with yellow and black trim. He pulls it over his head, yellow stripe to his hairline.

“Whatever," Marinette fastens her holster with a baton around her left leg. They both pull on their black gloves. "Lets go,”

Marion transforms back and opens a portal to a rooftop far away from the hotel. They take off across the roofs, using their batons to pole vault across alleys, to land on roofs and fire escapes. As they race, taunting each other, they survey the streets below. Marinette stops, crouching down as Marion catches up. A young woman was being chased by two thugs.

“Let’s go,” She whispers, using the fire escape as a firemans pole. Marion follows suit.

They land in the alley as the girl gets backed up against a wall, clutching her purse. She looks straight at them, Marion gestures her to stay quiet as they sneak up behind the thugs. Marinette takes the one on the right, as he lines up behind the left one. Marinette attacks first hitting the right one over the head with her baton.

“What the-” Marion cuts the left one off by sweeping his legs with his baton, sending him crashing to the ground. He pins them down, tying his wrist together with one hand, “You little fuc-”

Marion stuffs the mans own hat in his mouth. He then ties the crooks legs together for good measure. He looks over to Marinette, her thug unconscious, she was comforting the victim, offering her a cookie from a hidden pocket.

“Thank you,” She takes the cookie hesitantly.

“Not a problem,” Marinette gives her a winning smile.

“Wow, this is really good,” She mumbles, with her mouth full, “Um, who are you,”

“Don't worry about that,” Marion slings his arm around Marinette, "We're just your friendly neighbourhood strays,"

“Ignore him,” Marinette pushes his arm off her, “Do you want us to walk you home?”

“Uh- yeah, thanks,”

“I love your outfit by the way,” Marinette tells her, as they leave the alley way. Marion walks behind calling the police to come pick up the thugs, explaining what happened.

“Hey, can I get your number so the police can get your statement later?” Marion interrupts, as they follow the girl to her apartment.

“Of course,” He hands over the phone, letting her hang up.

“I haven’t seen you around before,” She hands back the phone, Marion walking on her other side.

“We’re new to town,” Marion smiles at her.

“I can tell,” They both give her inquisitive looks, “You’ve smiled more in the last five minutes than most Gothamites do their whole lives,”

“You’re exaggerating,” Marinette chuckles.

“I’m serious, you’re going to blind someone,” She laughs with them.

They walk her to her apartment, holding polite conversation the whole way.

“This is it,” She announces, “Thanks again,”

“No problem,” They both say, turning to leave.

“Wait…. Um,” They both stop looking back at her holding her phone, “Can I get a picture?”

“Of course,” Marion bounces over to her, Marinette taking the other side.

They give the same big smiles they do as Ladybug and Chat Noir. Marion throwing up bunny ears behind Marinette's head. They say goodbye and run off to find someone else to help.

“Whatcha doing Tim?” Dick looks over his shoulder, still in his Nightwing costume fresh from patrol.

“I ran into some French students who were left behind by their class at the airport,” Tim scrolls through a word document, complete with pictures of smiling teens doing a mixture of charity work and sports among other activities. “They won the Martha Wayne educational trip, I was just looking through their entry,”

“They got left behind, in Gotham?”

“That’s what I said! I actually caught them just before they got in a faux taxi,” Tim reaches the end of the rather long essay.

“They could have been mugged, or kidnapped!” Dick slams his hands down on the desk.

“I know , Dick,” Tim rubs his face, “The worst part is they didn’t seem at all surprised about it either,”

Dick leaves Tim to his work to change, muttering to himself.

“Is everything alright, Master Dick?” Alfred appears with food for after patrol.

“What if it happens again?” Dick asks.

“I assume you’re referring to the lovely twins Master Tim met at the airport?” Alfred nods knowingly, Dick nods back. “Well hopefully something similar doesn't happen tomorrow for their tour of Wayne Tower,”

“.... Alfred can you place me in charge of the tour?”

“Consider it done, Master Dick,” Alfred leaves him to get changed.

He finishes changing into regular clothes as the Batmobile pulls in. Batman and Robin exiting.

“We need to discuss security measures for the upcoming concert,” Batman tells the room, they gather around,

“MCD is known for his advocacy of superheroes, so we can expect a few villains to make trouble,” Tim pulls up a picture of MCD with MDC as they walk down the red carpet for some event.

Dick is amused that the picture he pulled up had them in Batman and Robin themed outfits. MDC wearing a beautiful black dress with the bat symbol subtly incorporated into the bodice. Her dress trailed behind in sharp points like Batman’s cape. MCD was wearing a suit with a red shirt, his tie green and some yellow detailing.

“You are going to be professional aren't you?” Damian gives them both pointed looks.

“Whatever are you talking about?” Dick asks innocently.

“You two are always jabbering on about these two,” Robin glares.

“We do not-oh that reminds me, if we’re going to be guarding this event we have to invite Jason,” Dick addresses Bruce.

“He is worse than you two, going on about that interview,” Damian must be rolling his eyes under the domino mask.

“Come on little D. how often does your celebrity crush like you back?” Dick smiles, remembering the night Jason called him yelling in excitement telling him about the leaked footage. He had also asked him to get Tim to find out who leaked the footage and have them fired.

“I don’t know and I don’t care,”

“As for actual security measures,” Batman redirects the conversation.

“Master Jason has arrived,” Alfred reports, coming to stand with them.

“Speak of the devil,” Tim mutters.

“BRUCE YOU MOTHERFUCKER,”Jason bursts into the bat cave, “I need to know these things!”

“We were just talking about the concert,” Dick tells him.

“What? No! Why didn’t you tell me you adopted more!” He yells at Bruce. “I need to know when you’re planning to traumatise more kids!”

“Jason what are you talking about,” Bruce only lets a hint of irritation into his voice.

“THis,” Jason slams down his phone to a screenshot of a tweet. It showed a picture of a boy and girl, both with black hair and blue eyes, following Tim into a limo. Written underneath was;

Wayne Twins? How long has Bruce Wayne been keeping them from Gotham? Are they adopted? Or could the Family resemblance be more than coincidence?

#wayne twins #Bruce Wayne's secret children #aren’t they just adorable

“What is this?” Bruce asks Tim.

“They’re the one who won the Martha Wayne educational trip, their class left them at the airport, I gave them a ride,” Tim briefly explained, noticeably omitting the taxi part.

“Wait so you didn’t adopt them?” Jason picks his phone back up.

“No, Jason, I didn’t,” Jason’s eyes narrow.

“... Are you going to?”

“... No, I’m not,”

“Keep an eye out,” Jason not at all subtly whispers to Dick, “He hesitated,”

“What are we going to do?” Damian cuts their growing argument off.

“We could release a statement?” Tim suggests.

“Drawing attention to it will only fuel the flames, let’s just let it die out,” Bruce decides, getting nods of agreement.

“By the way Jason, we were talking about security measures for the MCD concert,” Dick changes the topic.

“Without me!?”

They go back to making security plans for the concert, including Jason.

“I think we should have someone inside,” Jason looks over the blueprint of the venue.

“Of course you do,” Damian remarks snidely

“You little-”

“Bruce!” Superman's face pops up on the main computer, “You can’t just take in new kids without warning!”

“They aren’t my children,” Bruce clenches his fists, “The pictures with Tim are taken out of context,”

“What? I’m talking about the new Robins-,”

“THE NEW WHAT!” Jason and Damian shout at the same time.

“What are you talking about?” Bruce probably asking that question more times today than he would like.

“Uh, this,” A picture is sent through a screenshot of another tweet that was steadily becoming viral.

The picture had two teens in masks on either side of a civilian, giving the biggest smiles that had probably ever grace Gotham. The boy giving the girl bunny ears. Underneath was written:

Almost got mugged tonight and was saved by these two. Didn't tell me their names. They kinda look like Robin right? Also they gave me a cookie? It was actually good too.

#new Robins #Robin #Batfam #OMG their smile are pure sunshine #send help I might be blind

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