#as soon as i discovered i could draw and get a job with that YOUR GIRL STOPPED THINKING FOREVER LMAO | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

starswguru · 1 month

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❝ message in a bottle ; 마크이

𖥻 pairing: college!mark lee x female reader

𖥻 contains: college!au, fluff, slight angst, second chance romance

𖥻 warnings: swearing, marijuana & alcohol consumption / english is not my first language and this is my first work ever on tumblr so i am sorry if there are any grammar mistakes or misspellings

word count — 4.06k

synopsis — you and mark were in a situationship for a few months before things ended poorly when you got too scared of your feelings and he had to leave the country for an exchange program in london. now, six months later, you were at a party with your friends and discovered mark was back in town.

🎀

AND just like that, your whole world stopped spinning for a long and torturous minute. in the blink of an eye, you went from being over-the-moon excited — and slightly intoxicated — with the idea of partying with your friends during the first summer night before heading to your hometown in the next couple of days to being paralyzed, feeling all your blood get drained far away from where it should be in your body. in the blink of an eye, you went from being a happy girl with the arrival of the last member of your friend group to someone terrified with the sight of a ghost from the past. a quick glance, unintended by all means, in mark’s direction was all it took for the memories from that previous year to come flooding back to hit you like a lost train.

“hey, princess,” he said. his cheeks burning in a shade of shameful red, but something stronger than him was preventing his stare from going anywhere else other than your eyes. there was a blunt hanging between his teeth. “how you doing?”

“that’s it, guys; i’m done with this. i’m just gonna change my major or something like that! everything’s going terribly wrong, and i can’t keep torturing myself by studying this shit.”

you dropped your head and rested your forehead on your arm that lay on top of the desk in front of you right as the confession slipped from your lips like a dangerous poison that you should not have taken. it was the first time you’d ever said it out loud to someone else to hear — other than the mischievous voice inside your head — how you truly felt about the english major you were pursuing. the fear of judgment and of being too hasty about this decision was corroding every last bit of your emotional health, and because of it, you could sense that a storm was coming. what if you did change majors and ended up not adapting? how would you find a job, or better yet: how would you support living all by yourself if you couldn’t even pick an undergraduate academic path? time was running out, and the unbearable clock inside your mind wouldn’t give you a break. the tick-tacking of the goddamn thing was going to drive you to insanity at any point soon.

“hey, chill for once, okay? it’s normal to feel like that and to want something new. hell, i know i had to change my major twice before finding out what i actually wanted to do. jae did the same thing. you’re not alone.” jeno offered you a small yet reassuring smile or someone who didn’t quite know what to say but still wanted to see his friend more relaxed.

“exactly! take a deep breath and think things through with an easy heart. if you need help, we’re here to help you." swallowing the last bite of the sandwich he had bought earlier, renjun tapped the notebook in front of him. “how’s that linguistics project going?”

as you raised your head, you shook your head in a negative sign. “i mean, it’s good. too good, actually… and that’s sort of the problem. like, the dude i’m working with is super sweet and really fucking good at this class and so he’s kind of doing the whole thing by himself and dragging me along with it ever since we started. i feel terrible, even if he says it’s all good and stuff, but it is what it is, i guess.”

before either of the guys could express any opinion about what was just said, a guy with freshly cut black hair — it was even possible to see the drawing of a spiderweb on the left side of his undercut —, earphones in and a large yankees shirt approached the desk, more specifically you, and offered a genuine smile that wasn’t common to see between two colleagues who were only working on a school project together at you. the unknown man squatted so he could be at your height and unlocked his ipad’s screen to the word document the two of you were using to write notes together, or at least that was the initial idea because the reality was that mark was doing all of it alone, proudly.

“oh, hi, y/n, you good? just wanted to ask you a quick question… have you taken a look at this topic right here? i know we’re only supposed to work on it in two weeks but i was wondering if maybe you’ve come up with the same conclusion as me.”

feeling a thousand times more embarrassed than if a professor asked you to present a thirty-minute seminar alone in front of the whole class, you felt the tip of your fingers getting cold and a thin droplet of sweat rolling down your temple. “uhm, hey, mark. yeah, about that… look, i didn’t really have a chance to look at that yet, i’m sorry. i can barely manage this week’s assignments, let alone two weeks from now. i- i’ll text you when i read it, okay?”

you didn’t know it at the time — or if you did, you had an enviable ability of discretion — but every single time mark heard his name escape from your heavenly drawn lips, his heart would skip a beat or two and he felt like he was about to combust at any second. it was the first time in his whole life that he had ever felt that way about someone and dealing with feelings of that magnitude was both weird and extraordinary, which meant that the ravenette wasn’t completely aware of how to process them. mark’s solution for his overwhelming thoughts whenever you were around was to take charge of everything he could in that project, to make you feel relaxed about that one particular class. the canadian was terrible at linguistics, for his skills were much more reliable during literature classes: he could interpret and internalize poetry from the eighteenth century like it was nothing, and plays written in latin during the roman empire were of natural understanding for him; and yet, ever since the first day of that semester in which it was requested that both of you joined efforts to build the complicated assignment, it was impossible for mark to not pull all-nighters reading texts and more texts, watching one video class after another that broke down the subject of that class just so he could give his absolute best when the time came to work alongside you and you didn’t find him an idiot, as most people in that university usually did after meeting him for the first time.

mark just wanted to impress you and the last thing he could be worried about was doing all that alone, as long as it meant that he could still have the minimum interaction with you.

“yeah, sure, that’s cool. if you need anything let me know, alright?”

you were still in a state of complete shock. no words would come out of your mouth, making it impossible to answer properly the question directed at you by the boy that a year before was the reason for many sleepless nights and therapy sessions, through no fault of his, which was even worse, because mark was perfect and you hated yourself for how everything ended.

a cold breeze, too cold for a summer night, hit the both of you with enough strength to make you shiver and it was only then that you realized that none of your friends were around anymore. you were alone again with mark for what had felt like a lifetime since he left the country for an exchange program in london and with enough unspoken words to make the whole situation a million times more uncomfortable than it needed to be. what were you supposed to say right now? “oh, hi, mark, long time no see! listen, i’m really sorry for being horrible to you last year, i’ve spent the last six months torturing myself because i only woke up to the fact that i had let the perfect guy for me get away too late to try and fix everything”? you ran your fingers through your hair, knowing that there were no words of your knowledge that could make it easier, that could put together again the pieces of what had once been something magical that the two of them were building.

you couldn’t care less about all those times your therapist tried to be kinder to your heart than you had ever been, or how your friends always tried to distract your mind from the constant haunt of self-collection and, to be honest, didn’t really mind that yes, after all the effort and studying, you had managed to change your major to something you actually enjoyed if the price for it was to drop the perfect crystal piece that was mark’s precious heart. there were no words that could take that back, and going against every piece of advice that was given to you, you had imagined more times than you’d like to admit how this encounter would play out: what you would do, what you would say or not say, how it’d feel… but none of those scenarios inside your mind was anywhere near to the real sensation of being in front of him again.

mark looked taller — or maybe it was just the feeling of missing him crushing your soul and clouding your judgment —, the slim body now gave way to the body of a man who went to the gym and tried to truly take care of his health, his hair that previously used to be as dark as the t-shirts he used to enjoy wearing was now covered in a shade of red so bright that it reminded you of his favorite superhero’s suit. even still, the one thing that caught your attention the most were his eyes. before mark left, before the whole chaos, they were always big and full of life, like those of a curious cub and you could always feel a cozy warmth travel across your body when mark looked at you with such brightness; however, it seemed that ever since the canadian got back in town, they were opaque, closed off to the outer world as if his eyes were now carrying some kind of intense melancholy behind them. the familiar redness in his sclerae, months ago, used to always be accompanied by an excited and smiling version of mark lee, but that night the only thing apparent to you was that lee was holding on to weed like some kind of way to numb the break-up pain.

the redhead had lived a thousand different lives during his exchange: saw and learned things that he knew he would never have achieved if he hadn't accepted the opportunity to go to england and yet, his mind couldn’t recall any of those experiences with the genuine happiness he should’ve felt like any other normal and grateful person would if they were on his shoes; to mark, ever since you left him all alone, he had turned into nothing but an empty shell of what should’ve been the real mark lee. what were his experiences, his learnings, his funny stories if, at any moment, he was allowed to at least call the person he loved and share all of that with her?

“yeah, i guess i’m okay.” you answered, holding back a cry that was stuck in your throat before looking away. “you?”

a shiver went down the english student as he waited for his project partner to arrive at the coffee shop you two had agreed to meet at to finish for good the agonizing linguistics document. it didn’t even seem real that you were finally concluding the most stressful and endless project of your university career until that moment and despite the sweet taste of reaching the finish line, mark had on his lips a bitter one, because he knew that the very instant you pressed “send” on the body of that e-mail to your professor, all of his excuses to talk to you would come to an end. it was only the beginning of november, you should spend at least a few more weeks studying together if said professor were to follow a normal academic calendar like the rest of his fellow colleagues of the department.

mark would only have one last chance of making this work out and that chance was right there and then. anxiety and fear were destroying the boy with more strength than he himself was biting through his nails waiting for you to arrive.

“gosh, mark, i’m so sorry!” you said in a panting tone when you finally managed to get to the coffee shop and met the guy that, by that point, had already become your friend. “the bus took forever to get to the stop i needed and then the subway was also chaotic… anyways, i’m sorry that i’m late.”

the both of you stayed a long time in that coffee shop, not only finishing the assignment but also laughing together and watching a few episodes of modern family on his computer as a way to relax after all the constant flow of negative emotions the both of you were facing during that semester due to not only that particular class but also all the other ones with their enormous reading load. by the time you had indeed finished what you were supposed to do, you were feeling so comfortable in mark’s presence that you didn’t even notice when you heart started to race faster and faster before the mundane things the lee did: the way he smiled from ear to ear, or how kind he was to everyone around him. you were starting to fall in love with how mark explained all the different concepts he used to build his arguments across the paper like someone would explain the most basic things to a child, and you thought it was sweet the way he would say “dude” and “no way” every couple of sentences that fell from his lips. but, above all, unconsciously, the way mark seemed to glow every time he looked at you was ethereal to your eyes.

as soon as you sent the hated file, it started to rain on the outside of the coffee shop, but contrary to the ideal scenario, you couldn’t stay in there just waiting until the climate conditions became more favorable because the two of you had places to be at, on opposite directions. there would be no other alternative but to run to the nearest subway station, or in the brunette’s case, the bus stop.

mark immediately took off his hoodie to shield you as best as he could from the rain, in exchange for you protecting his backpack that contained his computer as if your life depended on it, the moment you two stepped outside the establishment and something of a thunderstorm was taking over the avenue. mark couldn’t help it and ended up laughing at the situation you two had found yourselves in, thinking about how he wished he was a little less broke and had a car to take the girl of his dreams back to her place without having to worry about the rain, or how he wished he was stronger to pick you up and carry you to the subway station and, with that, spare your shoes from coming in contact with the soaked surface of the sidewalk. before you could notice, you were right in front of the stairs that led to the station.

“bye, i think.” you said, giggling along with him while you tried to fix your hair that, despite mark’s hoodie’s protection, still got wet from the rain.

the lee was going to answer you like a decent and proper person, he really was, but in that very moment, a raindrop fell from the marquee above you and somehow managed to hit you right on the forehead, which made you close your eyes, but mark kept his wide open. with an automatic reaction of his body, almost like an involuntary movement that he was incapable of controlling — such as the beats of his accelerated heart — his left hand traveled to your neck while his right thumb was busy drying the solitary raindrop slowly, to give his mind time to analyze every little inch of your face so close to his. mark tried to respond with words to your farewell, but his impulse to kiss you was far stronger than any cohesive phrase that his brain could formulate in that moment.

the literature student, now in his final semester, nodded as he bit his lower lip and those opaque eyes fell to the floor beneath his feet after stepping on the remaining of his blunt. mark didn’t even know why he started that conversation in the first place, it was obvious that it was impossible for him to stand close to you without it affecting some part of him — whether for good or for bad — and even still, there he was, not managing to say a single word to you, nor being able to get closer, just feeding that giant gray and terrifying cloud that grew over both of your heads due to the impasse of what this was and what it should have been.

unlike his mind, that was only able to repeat tirelessly the day he finally built the confidence to kiss you, yours was in a hurricane of terrible memories that involved the brief, yet intense, relationship you two shared — or whatever the hell one could call it. how was it even possible that something that lasted only four months could leave such deep scars?

if mark was trying to hold back a smile remembering how it felt to have your lips on top of his, you were only torturing yourself with the replayed image of mark being crushed in front of you, by no fault other than your own. it was your fault that fear was allowed to consume every single good thing that the lee had ever given you; it was your fault that you’d thought that whole thing was a sick and sadistic joke from the universe and that, in reality, there was no way someone like him could've ever fallen in love with you. in the deepest, darkest, cruelest part of your soul, you were convinced that everything was your fault and not your mind trying to destroy you before something so pure and happy.

you were a sinking ship, navigating towards a port with not a single sight of a lighthouse’s spark to help you, not knowing how to reach the treasure that awaited your arrival because other people had already destroyed the lighthouse. the ability to grope around, trying to find yourself in the darkness you’d placed yourself, was stripped away from you the second you gave in to the bruises that were caused by third parties, and mark knew it wasn't your fault, although it was still difficult to try and be the guide to someone that wouldn't allow them to have access to the heat and light from the fire he tried to offer.

without even realizing it, the silenced cry stuck in your throat for months on end started to escape, not giving you any power to control it. you felt anger, sadness, frustration and you were missing mark… all at the very same time, in an endless swirl triggered by the mere vision of having mark back into your reality.

just like the first time you kissed, the unconscious answer of mark lee’s body to the sound of you crying after such a long time being away from you was to wrap his arms around your body without allowing himself to give too much thought to the action that just took place. if it was even possible, noticing you needing him in any way, shape or form was a true calling for him and it didn't matter how much time could've gone by, the lee couldn't ignore it. to love you and protect you was just as natural as breathing.

between the supplications for your tears to stop and hair strokes, mark then began to feel something that he thought was dead coming back to life inside the hollow box that was his chest. for months now, the redhead just knew that his heart was no longer there. instead, it must've been put inside a bottle and thrown away into the ocean that separated his emotions from his rational mind, as if he wasn't even the owner of his own feelings.

“please, princess, don't cry. i’m begging you.”

the cruelty of your mind wouldn't give you a break for not even a single second ever since the last time you've heart mark’s melodious voice so close to your ear, and the fact that it carried the same heavy tone of request didn't help with your genuine desire to stop your sobbings as your face was pressed against his chest. in that moment, the last thing on your mind were the looks that other people could be directing at the two of you; you could only see the desperation all over the face of the only man you've ever truly loved. he was in such pain that day — the day you told him you didn't want to see him anymore. soon, though, that image was replaced with the memory of the gut-wrenching feeling of chronic emptiness that filled your chest the following week and you came to your senses that you had make a mistake, but that it was also too late: mark was in another country, it was far too late to ask for forgiveness.

“i know you probably hate me right now. i shouldn't have done that, i shouldn't have said that, i was such an idiot, stupid… i'm sorry, mark, i don't know what was going on in my mind to treat like that, i-”

that sobbing wouldn't allow you to form coherent sentences properly and the way you were crying so helplessly was becoming melancholic instead of just sad to the man holding you. if only mark could get into your merciless head just how he would never be able to hate you, not in a million years, not when there was so much love, desire and adoration intrinsic to the image he had of you, then maybe that big gray cloud would disappear forever and the two of you could just live like he hoped for. all mark wanted was to have the privilege of loving you again.

“y/n, look at me” mark held the red and tear wet face of his beloved girl with kindness while his tone of voice was filled with all the firmness the moment could ask for. “for christ’s sake, y/n, i love you. i could never hate you. dude, really, for once just keep your head out of this and focus on what i’m telling you right now. i love you and this whole time i was thinking of you. only you.”

even if he knew you wouldn't answer anything for a few seconds, or maybe even minutes, mark just allowed a sweet smile to appear on his lips while he delighted himself with the feeling of being allowed to hold your face once again, to stroke your cheeks and to place small, delicate kisses all over your beautiful face — which he knew would force your breathing to slow down, giving you the chance to calm down again. the canadian was smelling like the combination of weed and beer, but somehow, your body knew how to identify the familiar and characteristic smell of his cologne; the same smell your searched for and ached for during the coldest nights, when missing him was too overwhelming it almost felt like a hole was being digged up in your chest. that familiarity was the reason for the shy smile that took over your lips, that opened a breach for light and happiness after all those tears while mark traced your lips with his thumb, admiring you like you were some kind of artwork created just for him.

“i was made to stay just like this with you, princess. and i’m not leaving this time.”

#— ⟡ 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐥𝐞𝐞 !#— ⟡ 𝐤𝐩𝐨𝐩 !#— ⟡ 𝐧𝐜𝐭 !#mark lee #mark lee x reader #mark lee x y/n #mark lee x you #mark lee angst #mark lee fluff #mark lee sfw #nct 127 #nct u #nct dream #nct #nct dream drabbles #mark lee drabbles

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bloatedandalone04 · 2 months

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In The Way I Need You | Part 9

Series Masterlist

➪in which you and clay label your relationship, and you also get some exciting news that he’s more than excited to celebrate with you, until you discover something from his past that has you second guessing things.

PSA: strongly suggested to read the warnings before proceeding.

WC; 5.8k | Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

“I’m hungry,” Joey whined as you looked over at him with a smile from your spot at the kitchen table.

Your laptop was open in front of you, various job offers open on the tabs. “All you’ve done is eat since you got home from school,” you laugh and he pouts at you, making your smile grow a bit as you get up. “Alright, babe, I’ll get started on dinner.”

Joey smiled at you as he colored in the dog you outlined for him. “Can we have grilled cheese?” He asked and you nodded instantly, setting down the jar of tomato sauce and grabbing the loaf of bread instead.

“Great idea,” you agree and move over to the stove. “What do you think? Should we make one for your dad? Like the first night I babysat you?”

Joey nodded instantly with a smile. “Yeah!” You smile back and begin making the sandwiches as he added, “My dad doesn’t make things as good as you do.”

You hold back a laugh as you place a piece of bread in the pan. “That’s because your grandma spoiled him,”

Joey sets his orange crayon down and it rolls to the floor as he asks, “Am I spoiled?”

Shaking your head, you walk over to him and bend down to pick up the crayon. “No,” you answer and kiss his cheek as you set the crayon onto the table. “You’re just sweet.”

He laughs at that and picks up a red crayon to get started on the house he drew earlier, and you resume your task of making dinner.

Throughout the next hour, Joey effortlessly cracked you up with every little joke he made, and after you cleaned up the kitchen and let him draw one last picture, you scooped him up in your arms as you carried him out of the dining room and towards the stairs.

Just as you step out into the hall, Clay ascends the first staircase with a tired look on his handsome face. “Hey,” he greets as he shrugs off his jacket.

“Hi,” you say back as he leans down and kisses the top of Joey’s head. You blush when he discreetly kisses the side of yours before his son could see. “We’re just about to go have a bath.”

Clay nods and ruffles Joey’s hair. “Sounds good. I’ll be up to say goodnight, okay?”

Joey nods and clings onto your shirt as you gesture towards the kitchen. “I made you something,” you tell him and watch as his gaze softens.

“Grilled cheese, daddy,” Joey beamed. “Like the first night.”

Clay’s expression shifts and it had you squeezing your thighs together as his blue eyes darkened the smallest bit. “Like the first night, huh?” He asked and placed his hand on your lower back.

Your breath hitches and you nod quickly. “At Joey’s request,” say quietly and the look he was now giving you was making you feel lightheaded. “You go eat, I’ll get him ready for bed.”

Clay lifted your shirt and ran his fingers along the bare skin of your back before he nodded. “Okay,” he then gently guided you towards the staircase.

You were shaking a bit as you made your way up, and you had a hard time focusing on the task of bathing Joey and getting him clothed in his pajamas as you thought about the man downstairs.

Clay was making you feel things you hadn’t felt in a long time. You felt like a young teen again who had her first crush and was beginning to discover all the ways a boy can make her feel.

It was driving you crazy and you wanted him badly.

“Goodnight, Joey,” you say as you tuck him under his covers. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Okay,” he smiled up at you with tired eyes as he held onto his teddy bear.

Just then Clay enters the room with the same look somewhat hidden in his eyes, and you move out of the way as he walks over to Joey. “Night, buddy,” he murmured, bending down to kiss his forehead. “Love you.”

“Love you,” the four year old said back before he closed his eyes and Clay began leading you out of the room.

Clay wasn’t sure why his body felt like it was on fire right now.

He was fine when he got home, and then you reminded him of the first night you watched Joey, and he thought about all that had happened since then, and now he found himself wanting you.

He wanted to show you how much he appreciates you and adores having you around all the time, and he didn’t know how much longer he could keep his hands off you.

Clay quietly shut Joey’s door behind him, and then he was alone with you in the hallway. Pulling you towards him with his hands on your waist, he leans down and connects your lips in a kiss that had him holding back a pathetic moan.

He had only gone on one date with you, but he was already so whipped.

You kiss him back with the same amount of neediness before pulling away with a breathless laugh, trailing your hands up his arms as you ask, “Did you have a good day or do you always come home in this good of a mood?”

“Had a good day,” he answered as he pulled you further down the hall and away from his son’s room. “An even better night.”

You laugh again and look up at him with wide eyes as he gently pushes you up against his closed bedroom door, his hands pushing up your shirt in order for him to be able to feel the smooth skin of your hips. “That’s good,” you trail off as he tugs at the belt loops on your jeans. “Clay.”

The way you said his name had him growling slightly. “I want you, baby,” he rasped and pressed kisses along your neck. “Will you let me taste you all over?”

You moan and lean your head back against the door as you nod quickly. “Yes,” you gave him a verbal answer when he didn’t advance any further, and he grinned at you before dropping to his knees. His fingers pop open the button on your jeans before he pulls the zipper down, his mouth pressing multiple kisses to the skin of your abdomen. “Clay.”

He groaned and pushed your jeans down your legs, running his hands up the backs of your thighs and creating goosebumps along your skin. “God, you make me crazy,” he muttered, leaning in and pressing an open mouthed kiss to your left hip.

Your hands move to gently tug on his hair, his name tumbling from your lips again in a soft moan. Clay runs the tip of his tongue along the hem of your plain black panties before kissing you through the fabric and grinning at the way your body shook slightly. “You make me…make me crazy, too,”

Clay hums in acknowledgement as he pulls at the lace. “Can I take these off, pretty girl?” You nod quickly and Clay slides the black material down your legs. He holds back a moan as he sees the most private part of you for the first time. “You’re pretty everywhere, huh, baby?”

Your soft whine meets his ears and he can’t stop himself from leaning in and licking a stripe up your wet folds. “Clay,” you moan and make a mess of his hair as your legs shake. “I can’t….can’t hold myself up if you’re going to do that. You make me feel things, Clay. I don’t think you realize just how perfect you are.”

Clay groans quietly. “Tell me,” he softly requested as he pressed a firm kiss to your clit. “Tell me what makes me perfect, because I’m pretty sure that you’re the perfect one here.”

“You’re….God, you’re such a good dad, Clay…seeing the way you interact with Joey sends me into a frenzy every time,” you begin in a quiet tone as you didn’t want to wake Joey up. “You’re so kind and sweet…sexy, fuck, you’re so sexy, Clay, it drives me insane.”

Clay laughed at that and it had you moaning louder than before. “You’ve got me blushing down here,” he teased as he hiked one of your thighs onto his shoulder. “Is that all?”

He runs his index finger along your folds and you squirm a bit as you shake your head. “You always tell me to let you know that I got home safely…you care about everyone around you, including me for some reason,”

“I care about you because I like you, Y/n, a lot,” you blush at his words and softly caress his jaw with your fingers when licked up and down your slit. “And again, I do the bare minimum for you, but I want that to change.”

He wanted to do everything for you, wanted to take care of you and Joey and come home to see the two of you all the time.

It was way too early to be thinking about those kinds of things, but he couldn’t help it. You were perfect in every way, how could he not picture himself with you when you were what he had always wanted?

“It’s okay,” you mumble, grinding against his mouth. “You do a lot for me, too.”

“Not enough,” he disagreed and pressed you against the door by your hips. “You make things easier for us, baby. For all of us.”

You whimper at his sweet words and he feels you push up against his hold as he sucks your bundle of nerves into his mouth. “Oh, God,” you moaned, making a real mess of his usually neat hair. “Feels so good, Clay.”

He hummed at that, and the sounds you were making went straight to his dick, but this wasn’t about him. It was about you and showing you how much he appreciated you since he wasn’t able to come up with the right words.

Your grip on his hair tightened with each swipe of his tongue against you, and before long he was met with the beautiful sight of you coming undone above him. Your body shook and writhed against his mouth, and he cleaned up any evidence of what he made you do within seconds as you whimpered and whined. “Fuck, Clay,” you laughed when he finally pulled away before you got too stimulated. He pulled your jeans back up before standing to his full height and towering over you. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he said back, “I missed you yesterday.”

“You saw me on Saturday,” you laugh as you brace your hands on his shoulders.

He steadies you with a small smirk. “That’s too long,”

You shake your head with a playful eye roll as you watch him bend down to pick up your panties and stuff them into his pocket. “Am I gonna get those back?”

Clay grinned and shook his head. “Consider it the first piece of clothing you leave at your…boyfriend’s house,” he said the last two words more quietly than the rest as he still wasn’t sure what the two of you were.

Your eyes widen and you fail to hold back a pretty smile as you wrap your arms around his shoulders. “Boyfriend?”

Clay felt his face heat up in fear that he may have overstepped a bit. “Too soon?”

You shake your head and kiss him quickly. “I don’t think so,” you answer. “People become official after just one date sometimes.”

“Sometimes?” He laughed and felt one of your hands slide down his chest.

“Yeah, sometimes. I think we have a good thing here, though, Clay,” Your teasing smile, mixed with the way your hand was nearing his semi hard-on, had his breath catching in his throat. “Can I show my boyfriend how much I appreciate him?”

He really wanted you to, but he also didn’t want you to think that he was expecting it. Though, he also didn’t want to reject you, but luckily he didn’t have to as he heard his mom call out for him downstairs. “Raincheck?”

You nod and kiss him quickly before pulling away completely. “That’s my cue to go,” you mumble and begin to make your way to the stairs.

Clay curses under his breath and adjusts himself in his pants before following after you. Hearing you call him your boyfriend had sealed his fate, and now he was fully hard but wouldn’t be able to take care of it until he was alone in his room. “Oh, there you are,” his mom smiled as she watched him descend the stairs behind you. “Both of you.”

You smile at her and take a deep breath, making Clay hold back a smirk at the redness still visible on your face. He couldn’t believe he had just gone down on you in the upstairs hall a few seconds ago, but he loved every single second of it. He wanted to get you alone like that more often, but the very obvious elephant in the room was standing in front of him.

“Hi, Mrs. Beresford,” you greeted in a kind tone, and his mother just smiled at you.

“Y/n. You get the day off tomorrow,” she stated and Clay felt his own smile drop. “I have a meeting I can attend from home, so I’ll be able to pick up Joey from school.”

“Oh, okay,” you nod and look back at Clay. “I’ll just see you both on Wednesday, then?”

His mom smiled again as she nodded and walked around the two of you and up the stairs. You turn to him with a pout he wanted to kiss so badly and take his hand in yours.

“That sucks, I won’t get to see you and Joey tomorrow,”

Clay shook his head as he guided you towards the first staircase. “You could swing by at dinner time,” he offered and you smiled up at him as you made it to the front door.

“You think your mom would mind?” You ask as you shrug your jacket on and slip into your converse.

“She’s not the only one who lives here, pretty girl,” he pointed out and you rolled your eyes.

“Right, I totally forgot,”

He laughed and brought your hand up to his mouth, pressing a kiss to the back of it as he said. “Have a good night,”

“You too,” you smiled and leaned up to kiss his cheek. “I’ll text you when I’m home.”

Clay nodded and let you pull your hand free and leave his house, and it had been a whole thirty seconds before he began missing you. He missed the taste of you, and now that he’s had a moment alone with you in that way, he wanted more.

He had to force himself to go back upstairs and get ready for bed, and after he was done showering he saw that you had texted him to let him know that you had gotten home safely.

He texted you back with a simple goodnight, then added a cheeky line about how he already missed the feeling of your body against his.

The next morning, Clay got ready for work and kissed Joey before leaving him in the care of his mom, and he was in the back of Rick’s car when you called him. He couldn’t even greet you before you were announcing, “I got that job!”

You sounded so happy, Clay was powerless to stop a smile from forming on his lips. “The one at that coffee shop?”

“Yes!” You answer excitedly. “Jess called me a few minutes ago. I start on Thursday.”

“That’s awesome, baby,” he said as he got out of the car. “I knew you’d get it. Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” you were quiet for a few seconds before you spoke again, “I got the morning shifts, so I can still babysit Joey after school.”

That had him letting out a breath of relief he didn’t know he was holding in. “That’s good. I won’t lose you as soon as I got you,”

He knew you were blushing as you said, “You sure know how to make me feel special, Clay,” and laughed afterwards. “Jess invited me out for drinks tonight. Said she wanted to get to know me before my first shift, so I can’t come over for dinner.”

“That sounds fun,” he said as he pushed the button for the elevator. “It might be nice to spend a night away from the kid, huh?”

You scoffed. “I’d rather spend it with you, but it’ll be good to get to know my boss,” you thought out loud before you added, “Must be nice to be your own boss, Mr Businessman.”

Clay laughed as the elevator arrived at the ground floor. “Trust me, it’s not all it’s made out to be,” he responded. “I’m getting into an elevator now, so I’ll probably lose you. Do you need a ride home later?”

“Maybe…I’ll let you know,” you answered. “I don’t want to wake you up, I might be out late.”

“I don’t mind,” he rasped as he entered the elevator. “Call me later, okay?”

“Okay,” you agree. “Have a good day.”

“You too,” he said back before he ended the call with a dumb smile on his face.

“Thank you so much for the opportunity!” You yell over the loud music at the bar. “I appreciate you taking a chance on me, despite my lack of experience.”

“It’s no problem, really,” Jess yelled back and smiled at you before taking a shot. You looked around the crowded room with tired eyes, and you knew you were close to your limit as your vision was beginning to blur. “Have you ever been here before?”

“No,” you answer and sip on your gin and tonic. “I’ve only been here for about a month, haven’t gotten out much yet.”

“Oh, babe, stay with me,” she laughed and placed her hand on your arm. “I know all the good places around here, and most of them don’t cost an arm and a leg to get in.”

You laugh, too. “Good to know,”

The music was making your head pound a bit, and when you checked the time on your phone, you saw that Clay had texted you a few minutes ago.

Clay Beresford: Hope you’re having a good night. The kid misses you, and so do I.

You smile and blink away the blurriness as you text him back,

I miss you both! My night is going pretty well. A bit tired, though.

Jess slides you a shot and you both take one as the song changes to a fast paced one, and that causes a table of guys a few rows down from yours to cheer loudly. Your new boss laughed and waved in their direction, but you just shook your head and playfully rolled your eyes.

“What?” She asked with a laugh. “None of them catch your eye?”

You glance over your shoulder and look at each of the six guys before turning back to her and shaking your head. “No,”

“Wow, tough critic,” she observed, reaching over and stealing the lime from the edge of your glass. “You already have a boyfriend then, I’m assuming?”

You begin to shake your head again, then remember the moment you shared with Clay last night, when he literally pushed you up against his bedroom door and went down on you, then called himself your boyfriend. “Actually, yeah,” you say with a smile. “As of last night.”

“No way,” she grinned and completely tuned out the table of guys as she slid her chair closer to yours, sucking on the lime as she asked, “Is he cute?”

You laughed and nodded, feeling like you and Jess were two old friends catching up. You were really hoping that a real, professional relationship could be formed with her, since your last attempt at one ended up with you dating the guy. “He’s very cute,” you reply and feel your phone buzz again. “That’s probably him now.”

Jess coos at you as she finishes off her beer and sets it down in the middle of the round table.

Clay Beresford: Are you thinking about calling it a night soon? I can come pick you up.

You look at the time and realize that it was well past one in the morning, and it seemed like he hadn’t gone to sleep yet. “Oh, wow, it’s late,” you laugh in your tipsy state, and Jess pulls out her phone, too.

“Fuck, it is,” she agreed and pulled out her wallet. “I should get going, but this was fun. I’m really excited to have you work at the shop with me.”

“Me, too,” you smile as she stands up. “How much-”

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” she waves you off. “I got the tab.”

“Really? Are you sure?”

“Of course,” she answered and pulled out some cash. “I invited you out, remember? Bills on me.”

You smile at her as you stand up as well. “Thank you, Jess, really,”

She smiled back and pulled you into a hug. “No worries,” she beamed, swaying slightly. “I’m gonna call a cab. Do you need a ride home?”

You open your mouth to respond just as your phone went off with an incoming call. “Um, I think I’m good,” you say and she nods, waving at you as she wanders off towards the bar. “Hi, boyfriend.” You sing when you accept the call.

“Hi,” he said back with a laugh. “You okay?”

“I’m fantastic,” you answer as you head over to the exit. “But I may actually need you to come get me.”

“Okay,” he murmured and you heard shuffling come from his end. “Where are you?”

“Uh, Hanson’s Pub,” you reply and hear the sound of a car door opening and closing. “I hope Rick isn’t mad he has to drive this late.”

“I don’t think he is,” Clay mumbled. “He’s probably sleeping right now.”

“What?” You ask as you lean against the wall beside the doors. “Don’t tell me you’re driving right now, Clay.”

“Okay, I won’t,” he said and you could hear the humor in his voice.

“Clay! I thought you weren’t supposed to be driving…you know, because of your condition,”

“Don’t worry about me, pretty girl,” was all he said and you sighed. “Just stay safe until I get there, okay?”

You hum in agreement, “Alright, but I’m chewing you out when I get in that car,”

“That’s fine,” he laughed. “I’ll be there soon,”

Then he hung up, and you were left to wait only a few minutes before walking outside and recognizing the black car across the street from the bar. You look both ways before crossing the empty road, bending to look at him when he rolled the window down with that smug smile painted on his lips.

“Why do I find you being behind a wheel so sexy?” You ask as you lean in and kiss him deeply.

He looked tired, and while that made you feel a bit guilty, you were also a bit turned on at his appearance. You were so used to seeing him dressed in formal clothing, so to be greeted with the sight of him in grey sweats and a white tee was a real treat. “Beats me,” he shrugged, nodding towards the passenger side door. “Get in, pretty girl.”

You hum and kiss him again before walking around the front of the car and settling in the passenger seat. “I can’t believe you’re driving me home right now,” you laugh and slur your words a bit. “Can’t believe I find it so hot.”

“You’ve had a lot to drink, huh, baby?” He grinned over at you as he drove in the direction of his house.

“Maybe,” you trail off, looking at the dark surroundings. “Did you already forget where I live? My place is back there.”

“I know,” he laughed. “I just don’t like the idea of you nursing a hangover tomorrow by yourself.”

You gasp and jump a bit in your seat. “Are we having a sleepover?” You ask and lean over to place your hand on his thigh.

“Not that kind of sleepover,” he replied and took your hand in his. “Is that okay?”

“You’re asking me if I’m okay with sleeping in your bed?” You scoff and lace your fingers together. “I’d be dumb to reject that offer. I missed you today.”

Clay brings your joined hands up to his mouth and presses a kiss to the back of yours. “I missed you, too,”

The rest of the car ride went by in a comfortable silence, and you were stumbling a bit when you got out of the car after he parked on the side of the road. “Maybe I did have too much to drink,” you mutter as he walks over to you and wraps your arm around his shoulders. “But I’m lucky that my very attractive boyfriend is such a good guy and offered to take care of me.”

“Did I offer to do that?” He grunted as he helped you inside his house. “You must be thinking of someone else.”

You laugh loudly, then slap your hand over your mouth as you look over at Clay with wide eyes. “I’m sorry, I’ll be quiet,”

Clay just shook his head and guided you all the way upstairs and into his room, holding up most of your bodyweight as he did so. He gestured for you to sit on the edge of his bed, and you looked around the room you had only been in once with hooded eyes.

“You’re so strong,” you slurred as he walked back to the door and locked it before kneeling on the floor in front of you. You gaze down at him with an excited grin as you press your thighs together. “Is this part two of what happened yesterday?”

Shaking his head, Clay laughed quietly at the way your lips dropped in a pout. “Maybe when you’re sober,” he said as he took off your heels and set them onto the floor next to the bed.

“Yeah,” you agreed in a tired tone as you lifted your arms. “I want to be able to clearly remember every second I get alone with you.”

Clay grunted softly as he tugged off your dress and grabbed one of his tees from his laundry basket.

You snorted, “I just put your laundry away not that long ago, Clay,” you murmur as he slides the shirt over your body. “How do you possibly have that much again?”

“Are you forgetting the fact that we got together after you started babysitting my kid? Kids are messy,” He grinned down at you before leaning in and pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Come on, let’s go to bed.”

You nod with a yawn and stand up, only to lay down on the left side of his bed.

You get under the covers as Clay turned the lights off and got in bed next to you, his brows furrowed in worry as he asked, “Are you okay?”

Nodding again, you slide over and rest your head on his chest. “More than okay,” you answer. “Thank you for getting me.”

He kissed the top of your head as you snuggled against his side. “I always will,”

And that was the last thing you heard before you fell asleep.

Your head was pounding a bit when you woke up, and you looked around the somewhat familiar room with tired eyes. Sitting up, you groan and hold the top of your head as you look over and see the right side of the bed empty, and then you notice the various prescription bottles on the nightstand. “Clay?” You call out with a dry throat, then meet his blue eyes as he leaves the bathroom attached to his room, still wearing the sweats and tee from last night.

“Morning,” he said in a quiet tone as he walked over to you with a glass of water.

“Morning,” you say back with an embarrassed smile as you take the glass and aspirin from him. “Thank you.”

Clay smiled as he sat down next to you on the bed. “Did you sleep okay?”

You nod and set the water aside before taking his hand in yours. “Yeah, I slept great,” you reply and lace your fingers with his. “Thank you for picking me up, and for helping me nurse my hangover.”

Clay laughed and kissed your hand. “Of course,”

You lower your voice as you ask, “Is your mom still here? What time is it?”

“Almost eight,” he answered. “The little guy got up a few minutes ago and she said she’d take him to school for me before work.”

You nod and look around his room. “You’re off to work soon, too, then?”

“No,” he said, making you look up at him in surprise. “I got the day off.”

A smile forms on your lips as you push the sheet off your body and crawl over to him. “Do we have the whole day to ourselves, Mr Beresford?” You ask in a teasing tone as you straddle him.

Clay grabs hold of your waist as you settle against him. “We do,” he confirmed as you caressed both sides of his pretty face. “Maybe we can go on that second date? You know, celebrate your new job?”

You squeal quietly and nod, kissing his lips quickly. “I’d love that,” you smile then look down at what you’re wearing. “I don’t have anything to wear, though.”

Clay gives you a squeeze before gently pushing you aside and standing up. “We’ll stop by your place so you can get dressed,” he offered. “Wear something of mine in the meantime.”

You blush and smooth out his shirt on your body. “Wearing your clothes in public?” You gasp. “How scandalous.”

He shook his head as he walked to the door. “I’ll go make sure the house is empty, then we’ll go, okay?”

You nod and he smiled at you before leaving the room.

With a big, dumb grin on your lips, you stand up and look around his neat room. On the fireplace mantel were a few pictures of Lilith and Joey when he was a bit smaller than he is now, and you felt your heart skip a beat at the one of Clay holding him when he was just a newborn.

You missed Joey, and were actually looking forward to him coming home from school later. It may be moving too fast, but you could see yourself being with Clay for a long time. You were so into him and knew you were falling for both the Beresford boys, but you were doing so willingly.

The only real problem was his mom, and even that you couldn’t blame her for. She was just looking out for her son after watching his first relationship fall apart and didn’t want to see him get hurt again. You could respect that.

One day he would tell his mom about you and him, but for now you’d just have to wait. If it meant you got to be with him, then of course you’d wait.

You walk over to his dresser and pull open the drawer with his t-shirts, and you smile at the difference in comparison to his much more formal button ups you were used to seeing him wear.

You rummage through the options before spying a dark blue shirt, and you reach for it without a second thought. But, as you grabbed it, your eyes landed on the object hidden under it, and you dropped the shirt as your eyes narrowed.

Picking the object up, you noticed that it was a picture in a frame, but not one of Lilith or Joey. It was of Clay and a brown haired girl, and they were smiling widely as they showed off their matching wedding bands.

Insecurities immediately flood through you and you stumble away from the dresser as you hold onto the frame with both hands.

This was her.

This is Sam, Clay’s ex, and Joey’s mom.

She was pretty. Fuck, she was really pretty, and her picture was in his drawer.

You tear your eyes away from the frame and bite down on your lip to stop it from quivering.

You knew about Sam, and you knew about Lilith’s hatred towards her and Clay’s anger towards her, but to see her with him was a bit jarring.

How could you compare to her when you’ve now just seen how beautiful they looked together? Sam was older, more mature than you are, and she was drop dead gorgeous. How could you compete with that?

You drop the picture onto the bed and look around the room, your eyes narrowing on your dress that was folded on the chair in the corner.

Blinking away unshed tears, you strip yourself of his shirt and shove it into the laundry basket beside the chair, tugging on the dress you wore last night.

You weren’t sure why you felt so bad right now, but you suddenly did not want to go on that second date with Clay today. You felt embarrassed and insecure and you wanted to leave as soon as possible.

So you pick up the dark blue shirt and shove it back into the drawer while holding back a dry sob.

You had no right to be feeling like this; jealous of a person who had Clay long before you did, but you couldn’t help it. Seeing her brought on so many unexpected emotions, none of which you were wanting to feel after a night of drinking.

Maybe he still loved her and that’s why their wedding picture was in his drawer. Maybe he was just with you in an attempt to get over her. Maybe he didn’t feel the same way about you that you felt about him. Maybe that’s why he was hiding his relationship with you.

You press the heel of your hand against your eyes as you pull open his bedroom door and nearly bump into Clay himself. “Woah,” he laughed as he steadied you. “What’s the rush? They just left.”

Shaking your head, you gently push him away from you and grip your heels in your hand, throwing your purse over your shoulder as you said, “I’m sorry, Clay, I don’t feel well,”

“What?” He asked as you quickly walked down the hallway and away from the very door he had you writhing against not even forty eight hours ago. “Wait. You don’t look good, Y/n, sit for a minute.”

You shake your head again and walk past Joey’s empty room. “I gotta go, I need some air,”

“Y/n,” he called after you, concern evident in his voice, but you just needed to get out. “Baby, wait.”

“I can’t,” you cry as you practically sprint down the stairs. “I can’t, okay?”

Then you were down the second staircase and out the front door before he could catch up with you.

Damnit, things were just getting good smh.

#hayden christensen #hayden christensen imagine #hayden christensen edit #hayden christensen gif #hayden christensen icons #anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin skywalker x reader #clayton beresford #clayton beresford imagines #clay beresford imagines #clay beresford x reader #clayton beresford x reader #awake 2007 #awake #in the way i need you series #in the way i need you

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thebadgerclan · 1 year

Text

Reunited

Pairing: Kaz Brekker x sister!reader, Nikolai Lantsov x reader

Summary: After 15 years, you are reunited with your brother...

Part 2 to “Sister”

A/N: I appreciate all the love that “Sister” got, but I will be capping this at 2 parts. School is, unfortunately, more important than fanfiction 😂❤

Also yes I made Wesper married, I fucked with canon enough, enjoy

The King of Ravka watched as you shrugged off your silk dressing gown and joined him in bed, opening his arms to you. “Oh, I forgot to tell you,” you said, extinguishing the lamp on your bedside table. “My brother’s coming to town.” Nikolai raised a brow. “He is? Why?” “Apparently he and his friends have been hired for a job. A job they need my assistance for.” The King cocked his head as you snuggled into his chest. “What kind of job?” “All I know is that they need to get into the Religious Archives alone. Beyond that, I have no idea.”

You’d told your husband about your brothers, about Hertzoon, how you’d come to Ravka shortly after your wedding. It was only thanks to Nikolai, well, thanks to Sturmhond, that you’d been able to locate your brother and contact him. Over the span of several months, you and Kaz had caught up on the 15 years of lost time, learned everything you’d missed on. You’d discovered that your eldest brother, Jordie, had not survived, that Kaz had risen to prominence in the Barrel and was set on bringing Rollins, the man who had masqueraded as Jakob Hertzoon, to his knees.

And Kaz had learned that you were Queen of Ravka. Part of him seethed with jealousy: you’d been brought up in the lap of luxury while he’d had to fight for every scrap, every penny, but he supposed he couldn’t be angry at you for that. And your position had turned out to be a boon to he and his Crows; giving him a way into the Religious Archives. As soon as Kaz had received the letter confirming you’d help, he’d gathered his flock and set off for Ravka.

***

“You’re fussing.” “I am not fussing.” “Yes, you are, my love.” Nikolai took your hands, pulling them from where you’d been fidgeting with your hair, drawing your attention to him. “I haven’t seen my brother in 15 years,” you said, letting your nerves bubble over. “I don’t even know what he looks like now, let alone what he’s like. Saints, I don’t even know wha-” “Hey, hey,” your husband soothed, kissing your forehead. “Take a breath, lovely.

“I know that you’re nervous, and I know that you’re a little bit scared, but I promise you that everything will be alright. He’s your brother, and even though it’s been a long time, that hasn’t changed. Just be yourself, Y/N, he’ll love you.” Before you could respond, before your thoughts could spiral, the doors to the receiving chambers opened.

“Presenting Mister Kaz Brekker, Miss Inej Ghafa, Mister Jesper Fahey, Mister Wylan Fahey, Miss Nina Zenik, and Mister Matthias Helvar.” Your brother and his companions entered, and the guard bowed to you. “His Most Royal Majesty, Nikolai Lantsov, and Her Most Royal Majesty, Queen Y/N Lantsov.” With another bow, the guard departed, leaving the eight of you alone.

“It’s really you,” Kaz said, both to you and himself. Gone was the little girl from Lij, afraid of the bustle of Ketterdam. In her place stood a woman; a regal, beautiful woman, clothed in sky blue silk and diamonds, a Queen. “It is,” you said, a tearful smile on your face. When you stepped forward, arms extended, hoping for an embrace, your brother stepped back, drawing a sharp breath. At once, you recalled one of his letters: Since that night on the Barge, I can’t bear to touch anyone. Every time I brush against someone, I’m right back there with Jordie.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, quickly composing yourself. “These must be your friends you’ve told me all about.” Kaz cleared his throat. “Yes. Inej, Jesper, Wylan, Nina, and Matthias.” Nina was the only one who dipped into a curtsey; as she was the only one who recognized you as her Queen. “Please, sit. I gather we have much to discuss.” Nikolai seated himself with you on a loveseat, and your brother and his Crows gathered around. Your husband and Jesper fell into easy conversation, and you smiled when he took your hand.

“So Kaz,” you said, clearing your throat. “Tell me about this job in the archives.” “A Shu priest claims that the remains of one of Sankt Kho’s clockwork soldiers resided in the archives,” he said. “We’ve been tasked with returning it.” You nodded, rising to pour yourself tea. “There are indeed remains here, but whether they’re authentic is unclear. Only a highly skilled Durast could tell, and even then it’s not certain.”

Kaz nodded, slowly spinning his cane between his hands. “The priest said as much. We’ve been guaranteed payment even if the remains aren’t genuine.” “That’s all well and good, but how do you plan to conceal the fact that you’re taking the remains? Those Archives are open to the public, people will notice their absence.” Your brother rolled his eyes. “If only I’d thought of that. Jesper.”

The lanky Zemini stood and opened the satchel as his side, showing you what lay within. “I happen to have Durast on my team,” Kaz said. “One who has become rather proficient in replication. It’s not perfect, but to a casual viewer, even a monk, it’s identical. If the clockwork soldier’s remains are real, then you have a nearly perfect replica. If they’re a fake, then you’ve got yourself a new fake.”

You nodded. This wasn’t the first heist your brother and his team had pulled off, you knew, but it was fascinating to watch his mind at work. “Very well. I can get you in at 10 bells tonight, but you have to be out by 1 bell.” Kaz nodded. “Done.” You rose and called for a servant, who entered an instant later. “Please show Miss Ghafa, Miss Zenik, Mister Helvar, and the Misters Fahey to rooms where they can rest. I wish to speak to Mister Brekker.” “Of course, moya tsaritsa.”

When it was just you, Kaz, and Nikolai, you resumed your seat. Your husband sensed your nervousness and took your hand, kissing it softly. “Did you ever think about me?” you asked, your gaze in your lap. “After I left?” “Of course I did,” your brother replied. “Every single day, Y/N. You and Jordie. I swore that I’d get revenge for you, and maybe with this job, I’ll be one step closer.” You lifted you face to find Kaz looking at you, and for a moment, it was like you were back in Ketterdam.

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered. “You have suffered so much, and I…” You took a deep breath, trying to compose yourself. “I grew up with every privilege, anything and everything I could ever want. But I never forgot about you, Kaz. Or Jordie. Even when I didn’t know if you’d survived, I prayed for you. To the Saints, to Ghezen, to anyone who’d listen. And I am so, so sorry for everything you’ve gone through, and if I’d known, I’d ha-”

“Y/N,” Kaz said, leaning across the space between you and taking your hand. You froze, knowing how much effort this was likely taking him. “Y/N, you don’t have to apologize to me. What happened to us, to me, no one could have stopped it. Yes, I’ve suffered, but I’ve also fought for what I have. And I’m so damn grateful that you didn’t have to suffer, that you didn’t have to fight. Look at you; happy and healthy, a husband who loves you, you’re a Queen. And if an ounce of my suffering bought you this happiness, then I am glad to have done it.”

Cautiously, you took his hand in both of yours, and while he squeezed his eyes shut, he did not pull away. “Kaz, I–” “You’re still my baby sister, Y/N,” he interrupted. “Queen or not. And I will do whatever I can to protect my baby sister.” “By 1 year!” you said, and your brother laughed. You and Kaz rose at once, and to your great surprise, he pulled you into his arms. “I love you,” he said. “Sister, I love you.” “I love you too, Kaz,” you replied, tears spilling over.

When you broke the embrace, Nikolai extended a hand, which Kaz took, clasping it for a bare second. “You know,” your husband said. “If you ever want to get rid of this ‘Pekka Rollins’, I might be able to help with that.” Kaz cocked his head. “How so?” “Well, he is indirectly responsible for your brother’s death, am I right?” A nod. “In that case, he’s responsible for the death of the Queen of Ravka’s brother, which is punishable by life imprisonment.”

Kaz nodded. “I appreciate the offer,” he said, adjusting his hold in his cane. “But when Pekka Rollins is brought down, I want it to be at my hand. For Jordie.” He looked at you, smiling softly. “And for Y/N.” Nikolai nodded. “Very well. But should you change your mind, the offer still stands.” “I’ll keep that in mind.” Your brother and husband exchanged a few more words before the former departed, leaving you and Nikolai in the receiving chamber. “Do you think they’ll pull it off?” he asked, draping an arm over your shoulder. “He’s Kaz Brekker,” you responded. “Of course he will.”

#kaz brekker x reader #platonic ship #kaz brekker x you #shadow and bone fanfiction #nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai lantsov x you #shadow and bone reader insert

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the-guilty-writer · 1 year

Text

Never Grow Up

Agent Rossi-Reid

Anthology Masterlist

David Rossi x daughter!reader, Spencer Reid x reader, Criminal minds x BAU!reader

Summary: The role Gideon played as Rossi-Reid grew up.

A/N: This is sad. This is really sad. I don't apologize. Embrace the sad.

Based off Taylor Swift's Never Grow Up

CW: typical criminal minds talk of murder, very sad and angsty

---

Your little hands wrapped around my finger And it's so quiet in the world tonight Your little eyelids flutter 'cause you're dreamin' So I tuck you in, turn on your favorite night light

---

Dave looked down at the little bundle of blankets that rested in his arms. It was a big day for the newest Rossi family addition- the team had come over to meet you for the very first time. It had been a lot for Dave, too. He thought profiling was the hardest, most time consuming, soul-sucking, job in the world, but you had proved him wrong. Turns out that the hardest, most time consuming, soul-sucking job in the world was being a parent.

But the joy you brought him made up for it all.

For about an hour the BAU agents had passed you around and Dave was grateful that after all the action you were dozing off in his arms, one of your impossibly small hands wrapped around his pointer finger. He smiled tiredly, knowing he had to put you down in your crib soon before he spent another night admiring your adorably tiny features. He sighed quietly and sent you down, hoping that you wouldn’t wake up. Your eyelids fluttered- hopefully with good dreams- but other than that you didn’t stir.

He walked over to turn on the nightlight; it was a gift from Gideon. The tiny plastic sparrow illuminated the room the perfect amount, but Dave couldn’t get over his closest colleague’s strange fascination with birds. Of course, you loved the little plastic bird- when you awoke at night you’d cry at first, but by the time your dad got to your room you’d be goggling at the feathered figure.

“Mio Passerotta.” It slipped out before Dave even had a chance to think about it. The Italian nickname was common enough that no one would think it was odd, but it felt more right than that. Gideon had named his son Stephen, in honor of Dave. It only felt right that your term of endearment- something your dad had thought about more than your actual name- was an ode to his friend. “Sogni d’oro, my sparrow. Ti voglio bene.”

---

To you, everything's funny You got nothing to regret I'd give all I have honey If you could stay like that

---

“Uncle Jason!” Your little legs carried you towards Gideon’s desk as fast as they could. “Uncle Jason look!”

“What is this?” he said in an exaggerated voice as you handed him a piece of paper and climbed into his lap. Your preschool and daycare were closed due to a holiday, but work never stopped at the BAU, meaning your dad had no choice but to bring you into the office. None of the agents minded- you brought a joy to the space so pure that it almost made the horror of their jobs disappear, even if it was only for the day.

Lucky for them you were now three years old and had recently discovered a love for drawing and coloring, which meant scrapped preliminary profiles that were blank on one side could be recycled into canvases for your artwork. Gideon couldn’t decide if it was right or not- having you put images of rainbows and butterflies on papers that had lists of victims names on the other side- but he tried not to think too hard about this.

“Wow!” Gideon held you steady on his lap with one hand and your drawing of… something… in the other. “Is this for me?”

“Yes!” You smiled up at him. “It’s a bird cos you like birds.”

“Thank you,” he said. “I’ll hang it right here.” He tacked the picture up on the bulletin board that sat on his desk, next to the other three drawings of birds you had done that day for him.

“I should draw one wearing a hat!” you giggled. Gideon wasn’t sure what was so funny about the idea of a bird wearing a hat, but it made him chuckle anyway.

“(Y/N)!” your dad called for you.

You turned to Gideon. “I have to go, but I’ll be back!” You ran off towards your dad’s desk.

Gideon watched to make sure you didn’t fall. He opened up the file he had been so careful to close before you came over. Inside were pictures of young women with your same hair and eye color, each assaulted and murdered in cold blood. With a heavy heart, he looked over to you, innocently drawing another picture with your crayons.

Oh what he would give for you to stay like that.

---

You're in the car on the way to the movies And you're mortified your mom's droppin' you off At fourteen, there's just so much you can't do And you can't wait to move out someday and call your own shots

---

Aaron Hotchner was a man known for his calm and cool demeanor, but he was also known for his ambition, and occasionally that ambition made him more excited than normal. Recently, his ambition had led him to become an agent at the BAU. It was something he’d wanted since he first heard about the unit, and though he managed to make himself look poised on the outside, he couldn’t hide the fact that he was probably shivering in his suit. They really should warn the new agents that the basement, which served as the unit’s headquarters, could go from being a sauna one day to the arctic tundra the next day.

The heavy metal doors of the BAU opened, letting the cool air from the hallway sweep across his desk. He shook off the need to chatter his teeth and went back to his paperwork. It was beginning to feel tedious, doing the grunt work of all the agents above him. He knew that next week he would get to start looking at actual cases. After a few months he would be allowed to consult on simple profiles over the phone with small police stations that called for help. Maybe even if he worked hard enough he could make it into the field before he hit his first year-

“Agent Hotchner, over here!” Someone called to him from the outskirts of the space, where the senior agents had their desks. He suppressed a groan at the idea that another file would be added to his seemingly endless pile, but when he looked over at the person who had called him, they weren’t holding out a file.

David Rossi, the senior agent who approved Aaron’s request to join the unit, was walking towards him. Next to the senior agent was you. Aaron had seen you before of course, but he had never taken time to really look at the 14 year old that came into the BAU around 4 PM every day. But now there was no doubt in his mind that you were David Rossi’s daughter- your facial expressions, posture, and the way you walked was nearly identical to your dad’s.

“Agent Rossi,” Aaron stood up from his desk as the two of you approached.

“Please, Aaron,” Rossi said. “Just call me Dave. Now, this is my daughter, (Y/N). (Y/N), this is Agent Hotchner. Now, I have a flight to catch for an emergency case and the TSA is going to be a pain in my ass like they usually are.” He handed Aaron a key. “This is for SUV number 4 in the parking garage. Don’t crash it, but (Y/N) has to meet her friends in 25 minutes and the movie theater is 30 minutes away. Thanks.”

Dave gave Aaron a quick pat on the shoulder and then walked past him, his go-bag in hand, leaving the young agent alone with his daughter. Aaron honestly wasn’t sure whether he should be offended or not.

“Sorry you got put on babysitting duty,” you said, though you didn’t sound apologetic. “But we have to go.” You began to walk off.

Aaron blindly shoved papers into his brief case before following you out the doors of the BAU. “I’ll uh-” He looked down at his watch. “I’ll have to ask where the SUVs are kept-”

“No need.” You walked easily into the elevator and pressed a button. “I know this place like the back of my hand.”

You seemed confident enough in your manner that he didn’t question you. Aaron took a deep breath to try to compose himself. He was usually good at working under pressure, but something like this had never happened to him.

The elevator stopped and you walked off. Aaron followed you. Surely enough, you knew exactly where the SUV was kept. As he drove, you tried to get him to take short cuts to the movie theater, but he refused to listen. Still, you got there on time. He was about to pull up to it when-

“You can just drop me off here,” you said. The theater was about a block away. “I’ll just walk.”

Aaron shook his head. “Your dad trusted me and-”

“And I get made fun of every time I get dropped off somewhere in a government vehicle.”

Aaron looked over at you. The confidence that had shone through before dimmed just a bit. Aaron remembered being 14… thinking about all the things he wished he could do but he couldn’t. He knew that teenage desire to have independence; to be able to call the shots in your own life.

Honestly, he was experiencing a bit of it right now being new at the BAU- having this need to look good for everyone, wanting to impress those around him, hoping that they’d loosen his leash just a little bit…

“One day what the other kids say about you won't matter,” he said and pulled up in front of the theater to drop you off. “Do you have a ride home?”

“Yeah, my actual babysitter will be here soon,” you replied. “Thanks for the ride, Hotch.”

“Don’t call me that,” he retorted.

You smirked at him before shutting the car door. You walked into the theater, but saw that Hotch was lingering around, just to make sure you really were okay, before finally leaving.

You hurried out to the payphone in front of the theater and dialed the number. “He stuck around for an extra seven minutes,” you said into the phone. “Trusted me enough to follow me to the SUV but didn't budge when I told him it'd be quicker to take the short cut. I'd give him a B+. Maybe an A-.”

You knew that Jason Gideon was smiling on the other end of the phone. “I guess he passed,” your uncle said. “I'll be there to pick you up soon.”

You hung up the phone, your part in the BAU new agent hazing ritual complete. Agent Hotchner had taken enough command, trusted you but not too much, and followed through with your saftey.

Part of you wondered if there was more to the "test" than just a good laugh for Gideon and your dad. Maybe you'd find out one day.

---

So here I am in my new apartment In a big city, they just dropped me off It's so much colder than I thought it would be So I tuck myself in and turn my nightlight on

---

After finding the letter at Gideon’s cabin, you held Spencer for what felt like hours as he cried. You wanted to cry too, but the shock of it all was too much. It wouldn’t sink in, like your body and mind refused to accept that it had happened.

Spencer left for the bathroom to take a shower. You knew he was probably standing under scorching hot water, trying to wash away the pain of it, or feel something other than grief. Normally you would have gone in and turned the temperature down, but your heart wouldn’t let you.

Right now, all you wanted was some sleep.

You slipped on your most cozy pajamas, tossing your tear-stained clothes in the hamper. The entire apartment felt colder than normal. You went to tuck yourself into bed, but stopped before you could get comfortable. Spencer would get out of the shower eventually and being the gentleman he was, he wouldn’t turn on the light in an effort not to wake you. You slipped out of bed and padded over to the nightlight to turn it on.

The little sparrow had faded in color, but it was still your favorite nightlight. You went to flip the switch, but it didn’t turn on; and for some reason, you knew that it wouldn’t matter if you changed the bulb or not… it wasn’t going to light.

It would never light again.

Whether your heart or your legs crumbled first, you weren’t sure, but you were on the ground. Your body shook and tears fell, but you made no noise. You stayed there, on the cold wooden floor, your head buried in your arms and your legs tucked up to your chest, until a hand fell on your shoulder.

You looked up in the dark to see Spencer, and then turned back to the sparrow that had lost its light forever. He sat down next to you and let you lean into him, his arm wrapping around your shoulder.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked quietly. It was his turn to take care of you now, and he knew that. Sometimes that meant asking you if you wanted to say something, even if you said nothing at all.

You looked at the bird in the darkness, remembering your life… your childhood room, the sound of the door opening when your dad got home, the way your footsteps had grown against the concrete floors of the old BAU headquarters, the wise words that Gideon always spoke. It was before your heart had been broken, before you had been hurt and scarred, before you had been deserted; back when everything was simple.

“I-” you started. “Sometimes I wish I never grew up.”

---

Taglist:

@doctorsteeb@saturnluvvr@padsfirewhisky@staygoldsquatchling02@mycoolusernamesstuff@reidstileschishiya

#criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds #david rossi #rossi x daughter!reader #david rossi x daughter!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x y/n #criminal minds x platonic!reader #criminal minds x daughter!reader #the rossi reid

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starcurtain · 1 year

Text

Haikaveh Fanfics I Really Want to Read (Part 1)

Part 2. ->

1. A run-in with a cursed artifact on a research trip leaves Alhaitham intangible and invisible. He can't be seen, heard, or even open his precious books (which is the real tragedy here). Things go from bad to worse when it's discovered that the only person who can break the curse is someone who "knows Alhaitham by heart."

Problem is, nobody does. The only one who might even come close is Kaveh, and will he really be willing to go out of his way to research Alhaitham's deepest secrets just to bring his scathing roommate back?

Turns out the answer is yes, and Alhaitham is left invisibly watching over Kaveh's increasingly desperate attempts to learn more about the most private person in all of Sumeru.

Yeah... Alhaitham's probably doomed.

(Or: The Akademiya's erstwhile scribe has nothing better to do than stalk follow his roommate around unseen, gets a front row seat to Kaveh's tough life, undergoes the mortifying ordeal of being known, and realizes just how much his own cold nature has left him isolated from the world.)

Rest under the read more:

2. Another research trip gone wrong: While Kaveh's out of town on a job and without a shield this time, Alhaitham takes a nasty knock to the head during a fight. Although he wakes up all right, he doesn't have the faintest idea who or where he is. Quick-thinking nature intact, Alhaitham decides to fake his way through on context clues for a while. It's an interesting experiment, after all, to learn about his own life from an outsider's perspective.

Too bad a very silly series of coincidences occur (i.e. Kaveh took most of his work things with him for his trip, so his room is pretty bare; they wash their laundry together to save water; and everyone keeps asking Alhaitham why some mysterious "Kaveh" guy isn't with him), all of which lead Alhaitham to the absolutely incorrect assumption that this missing "Kaveh" person is his significant other. Imagine Kaveh's shock when he returns home to a very out-of-character greeting...

(But I mean, really, does Alhaitham need his memories back? This is kind of nice, you know...)

3. Requirements for a Desirable Life (According to Alhaitham):

1. Match your actions to your talents (read as: go with the flow) 2. Low stress, high paying job (read as: the balancing act between making oneself seem indispensable while underachieving as much as possible is a talent) 3. Nice home with a short commute (read as: at-home lunch hours every day) 4. Books (read as: soon as possible) 5. Kaveh (read as: the light of my life who I moved into my house through admittedly somewhat underhanded tactics just to keep him close to me, but what was I supposed to do--tell him I have actual feelings? Impossible, in the most literal of senses)

Or: Alhaitham pursues his plan for an ideal lifestyle in an utterly single-minded and undeterrable fashion... except when comes to his roommate, who--for someone so good at drawing up his own designs--also seems terribly good at ruining Alhaitham's.

Just fall in love with me already.

(Basically, I just want to see Alhaitham be the pining one for once. He is one checkmark away from his dream life, but he'd rather sell his soul to Lord Sangemah Bay than confess without knowing how Kaveh feels first.)

4. Alhaitham is preeminently capable. He's beyond a genius. His research could rewrite the laws of reality if he tried hard enough. But he's also... terrible with people. Actually, terrible is an understatement. If Alhaitham is murdered one day, it'll be because he finally committed one too many social faux pas and honestly the masses will probably say he had it coming. Thank the lesser lord that the Akademiya's scribe has someone as gregarious as Kaveh around to help him learn, right?

Or: Five times Kaveh tried to teach Alhaitham social skills, and the one time Alhaitham put all those lessons into practice... on Kaveh.

5. The very silly comedy one: If someone were to ask Kaveh what the very worst thing about living with Alhaitham is, he'd say--well, first he'd say "Who told you?!", but after that, he'd say something that might come as a surprise. The worst thing about living with Alhaitham isn't their constant snarking and diametrically-opposed mindsets. It isn't the tacky, asymmetrical furniture Alhaitham keeps bringing home because it was "practical and inexpensive." (Kaveh's skin is crawling.) It isn't even the fact that his so-called "landlord" reminds Kaveh all too often about his unpaid rent while never lifting a finger himself to do the dishes.

Nope. The worst thing about living with Alhaitham is the experiments.

"How many books can I leave on top of Kaveh's sketches before he yells at me?"

"How angry will Kaveh get if I drink the expensive wine he brought home last night?"

"How many days will it take Kaveh to notice I keep rearranging all the stuff on his shelves while he's out?"

"How many times can I suggest he add Aranara statues to his designs before he tries to strangle me?"

It's bullying, is what it is! There's no limits to Alhaitham's behavior when his curiosity is piqued--the only thing that matters to him is the answer to whatever outrageous new question he's thought up in that thick head of his. And of course, the louder Kaveh shouts, the more "experiments" Alhaitham seems to dream up...

Honestly, someone ought to give him a taste of his own medicine!

(Or: Alhaitham and Kaveh end up in an exponentially escalating social experiment competition, pushing as hard as they can to find the other's boundaries. One of them has to break and give up soon, right?! Too bad Alhaitham's the god of stubbornness, and Kaveh's eternal peace of mind is on the line--if he can just win this, Alhaitham will finally give it up and quit bothering him! He can't chicken out first!

Because they're both very Normal™, it turns out there's not a single boundary to be found.

Well, at least answering the question "How many times can I walk in on him in the shower before he kicks me out of the house?" might save them some money on the water bill?

By the way, Kaveh wins. It turns out the answer to "How many dog ears can I fold into the pages of Alhaitham's books before he tries to kill me?" is 0.)

#haikaveh #kavetham #genshin impact #alhaitham #kaveh #genshin impact fanfic #fanfic ideas #send help please #I don't have time to write these myself #but I need them in my life

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kalinysu · 10 months

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so; imagine lower moon reader taking a big interest in gyutaros physique and ever since they got the chance/luck to watch him at his work, lower moon reader draws his body structure, different poses/posture and movement when he battles/rests!

one day they didnt pay enough attention/mind to notice him sneaking up on them since they we're to drowned in their doodles.. and he snatches it 'nd reader gets embarrassed and tries to clarify since they never really had interaction

𝐖𝐇𝐘 𝐌𝐄? — Gyutaro x F!Reader

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: None.

𝐍𝗼𝐭𝐞𝐬: Cute idea, and so sorry i took so long! I’ve been pretty busy and may not be able to write again as soon as i’d like to.

You had always been an artist, even in your human years. Now up until you became a lower moon. You stayed dedicated to your job as a 12 kizuki of course, but you couldn’t help but draw everytime you got the chance. Especially now that you’ve discovered the existence of upper six. At first, you didn’t know that they were two demons. You thought there was only one, the girl. But soon after you came to find out she had a brother, Gyutaro.

And sooner or later, you took an interest in his physique, and just the way he looked. You were quick to make sketches of his battle stances and even just the way he sits. You had never seen anyone like him, of course. So naturally you were very curious about him. You admired his build, and the markings on his face. Even his hair, you took a special interest in. One day, you were sitting alone in the infinity castle, scribbling away in your notebook.

You didn’t speak much to the other demons unless absolutely necessary, so nobody really approached you. You figured you were safe to draw the demon once again since you supposed nobody would come near you.

You shifted to a more comfortable position to sit in, until you noticed a shadow over you. You had been so focused on drawing you didn’t even realize. You hesitated for a moment, before looking up, only to be met face to face with the very man who was filling up all the pages in your sketchbook. Your eyes widened, and before you could react your journal was gone, and Gyutaro was faced away from you, looking through it. “—W-wait, give that back!” You said, jumping to your feet to try and retrieve it. He simply shoved you away, his face buried in the book.

You couldn’t tell how he’d react, but you were afraid he might not appreciate you drawing him. “Is this me?” He asked with an amused chuckle, his palm pressed against your forehead to keep you from getting close to the book. You froze, no longer trying to get it back. It was far too late. “U-uh.. Y-yes but—“ You stutter, clearing your throat a bit. “I-I just thought you looked cool and.. thought I would draw you..” You said, your cheeks heating up in embarrassment.

He didn’t say anything, continuing to flip through the pages. Honestly, he was impressed. Nobody had ever drawn him before, and on top of that you thought he was cool? That’s something he’s never heard in his life. “Can I have these?” He asked, looking down at you. You stared in shock. Have them? He wasn’t mad? “U-uh—Of course!” You said, feeling a little more confident. He handed you the book, not wanting to rip any of the drawing with taking them out. You carefully took a few pages out and handed them to him. “How come your only drawing me? Am I that weird looking?” He asked, using his free hand to scratch at his skin.

“N-no!! Not at all! It’s just.. Your.. Really, really cool..” You mumbled. He was shocked, really. He leaned down to look at your face, tilting his head. “You mean that..?” He asked. You nodded, looking away from him. Your cheeks flushed pink from the sudden closeness. “That’s.. Intriguing.” He said with a small grin, followed by a chuckle.

“Do you think you can draw me more?” He asked. You looked back at him, feeling your heart skip a beat. “M-more?” He nodded. “Yeah, can you do that?” He questioned. “Y-yeah! I can!” You said, moving back to where you were sitting before on top of a cushioned platform. He followed, sitting slightly behind you. You were a little nervous, having the person you were drawing for so long watching you. You picked up your pen and began to draw, eventually, you felt his head resting on your shoulder.

He still couldn’t believe that someone like you would want to draw someone like him, and actually took an interest him. He was always labeled as ugly so naturally he didn’t understand. “Why me?” He suddenly asked, causing you to look at him from the corner of your eye, turning your head a little. You smiled. “Why not?” You said. “Why would you want to draw someone as displeasing as me?” He asked once more, genuinely curious. “I don’t think your displeasing at all.”

“Man, you’re a weird one.” He said with a chuckle, before focusing back onto your drawing.

#demon slayer #kny #gyutaro #gyutaro fluff #gyutaro x reader

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kyojurismo · 10 months

Text

— THAT ONE TIME HE SENT YOU A LETTER

# sanemi shinazugawa

tags : gn!reader, fluff, the bold parts are tengen’s comments!!! 500 words, not proofread bc i can’t read my own shit lol.

a/n : i told ya i was gonna write something about sanemi not being able to write, but it turned out completely different. anyway, i hope you guys enjoy it anyway <3

dear sanemi,

we finally reached the village. we’re waiting for the night, so we can get the job done. i’m sure it’s not a strong demon, after all he hurt just a couple of villagers and they’re alright now, thankfully.

anyway, uzui-san is very fast! i can barely keep up with him, but he’s of good company. i discovered his wives prepared a bento for me too, and it was my favourite food too! i was so happy while eating it, but don’t worry, your ohagi are still in my top three.

the young slayers with us are pretty good, so stop saying they’re all useless and stupid, please. they’re all doing their best and they will get stronger and better at fighting. i know that for sure.

that was all for now. i’m looking forward to see you again, i’m sure the mission will be over soon. after all, there’s a pillar with us.

— your [y/n]

sanemi catches himself smiling at your letter. he wants to go on missions with you too, but he is happy whenever he receives your letters.

although he could never answer.

“sorai,” sanemi calls for his crow and gives him a little bag, with some of your favourite sweets. “take this to [y/n], make sure it is delivered with care,” he asks as he pats his crow gently.

that’s his way to answer you. you send letters, sanemi sends gifts. always.

when he’s the one away on missions, he makes sure to send you special gifts, like accessories or simply food. and he waits patiently for your letters.

he keeps them all, secured in a drawer. he usually kisses the letter and then puts it away, going sitting back on the engawa, staring up at the sky.

─────────────────────

dear [y/n],

it’s uzui writing! but it’s sanemi dictating, hah!

me, uzui and tomioka are almost there, the village is close i believe. so is the demon. he’s talking about the way he’s gonna cut his head off but we both know it’s boring so i won’t tell you all that.

i bought you some sweets, i know you really like them. the lady said it was special, some shit about love… i don’t know.

what the hell …

i’m sorry i can’t write to you, personally, but i promise that once this is all over you can teach me properly. yeah, because the wind doesn’t have time to learn how to write at the moment.

i can’t wait to come back home to you, i miss you a lot. take care darling, i promise to be quick.

— your ‘nemi.

“you know i can read, right?” he stares at tengen, who’s eating his food acting innocently. “i don’t know what you’re talking about, man. here, tomioka, take it,” he pushes a bento to the water hashira, who quietly accepts it while murmuring a thank you.

sanemi draws a little dog on the back before giving it to sorai, ordering him to deliver it to you.

needless to say, you’re so excited to see sorai delivering a letter that you starts crying even before reading it, and after that, you hug it close to your chest.

reblogs & comments are super appreciated! thank you for taking your time reading it, i hope you enjoyed it. have a good day / night <3

#📂 — writing !!#sanemi shinazugawa x reader #sanemi shinazugawa x you #sanemi shinazugawa x y/n #sanemi shinazugawa blurb #sanemi shinazugawa drabble #sanemi shinazugawa imagine #sanemi shinazugawa one shot #sanemi shinazugawa fanfic #kny sanemi #kimetsu no yaiba #kimetsu no yaiba fanfic #demon slayer #demon slayer fanfic

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valve3nthusiast · 5 months

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I sensed your need for some preggy Deadlock, and i wanna hear your take on it, the dudes a angry meow meow but being sparked has it times ten.

100% Ratchet and Hot Rod got him knocked up, and when they find out there always tryna check in on him, and ofc give him transfluid donations

I want that deception pregnant!!!!!!!

I think he loves and loaths being preggy in equal measure, because the sex feels amazing, but he's horny all the time

Tragically for the deception troops discovering their pregnancy kink, Deadlock is very against finding any new transfluid donors. 'Cons will often see him stalking through barracks with the beginning of his baby bump, frustrated and snarling at any who try to approach. Deadlock is incredibly tempting, with his soft round belly and the audible clicks from overriding his interface panel to stop himself from presenting his valve for the nearest spike

(It's having a negative effect on job efficiency, if you get what I'm saying)

(All the 'cons are shirking their duties to furiously self-service, is what I'm saying)

Tragically for Deadlock, the transfluid he wants is kinda on the opposite side of a war =/

Sneaking into autobot territory is already dangerous, doing so while visibly pregnant takes a special kind of stupid and horny. Unfortunately, the danger might actually be, uh, doing something for him. Primus-damnit, he can and will blame that one on the robot pregnancy hormones

As soon as he gets to the meetingplace and sees Ratchet and Hot Rod waiting, his panels snap open. The gush of lubricant that runs down his thighs gets across his need faster than words ever could

He's swiftly manhandled onto Ratchet's lap, and a spike is finally in his aching valve. He nearly cries from relief as Ratchet holds him by the hips and fucks him with a hard, steady rhythm. He feels Hot Rod soothingly petting his back, feels the head of Hot Rod's spike glide against his slit, impaled by Ratchet. His pleading whines are the closest to begging he'll allow himself to get, but Hot Rod understands him perfectly

Both of their spikes inside him almost relives the craving that haunts him, but the desperate need for transfluid still burns in his array. It's lucky, then, that the sight of Deadlock crying so pretty for them as his valve flexes and tries to draw them in deeper quickly pushes them both over the edge. The feeling of transfluid finally flooding his tank forces Deadlock into a brutal overload, intense enough to knock a few sensory systems offline

He reboots to Ratchet rubbing his node with one hand and the gentle swell of his abdominal plating with the other, while Hot Rod kisses and bites his neck. There's plenty of time before he has to leave, and his two sires are going to spend every astrosecond making sure he leaves satisfied

#valveplug #mine #dratchrod #ratchet #deadlock #hot rod #mechpreg #3nthusiasts inbox

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muzzlemouths · 1 year

Note

prompt: “please”

Moon adjacent // Wordcount: 4088

“Can we talk for a minute?”

It’s the end of your shift. The kids are all picked up, the toys put away, the daycare cleaned, and you’re headed for the door when Sun sets a hand on your shoulder.

You’ve already said your goodbyes, of course, and he hadn’t bothered to say anything up until now, so the sudden insistence to have a chat catches you off guard. As does his expression.

“Oh, uh… Sure,” you turn around to face him fully, “what’s up?

The way he’s looking at you, like he’s hesitant to speak up even now, leads you to believe it’s something serious. Coming from Sun, of all people, that’s more than enough to make you set your bag back on the front desk and give him your full attention.

Sun’s hand draws back and folds in with the other at his waist, his fingers intertwining and pinching together with anxious little taps, “It’s about Moon,” he mumbles, and his eyes fall to the bells on his feet and stay there, “something is wrong.”

Now, that kind of remark isn’t abnormal, especially concerning Moon. Management isn’t all too favorable with the animatronic and you get the feeling the techs down in Parts and Services aren’t the best of friends with him, either. You could put money on either of them making up complaints if only to get Moon off their backs. Coming from Sun, though?

That scares you.

“Oh?” You put up a face, doing your best not to show how much the suggestion gets to you. “What’s going on?”

“Are you aware of yesterday’s…” his rays shrink with a note of visible discomfort, “situation?”

Your eyebrows pinch together, “No, I hadn’t heard anything. Did something happen?”

He makes a face, and you imagine he might have rolled his eyes. “Of course,” he sighs, “I’m not sure why I was under the impression that management would fill you in.” True enough. Trying to get information out of them - even concerning your own job - is like pulling teeth. “Well,” his head tilts in the opposite direction now and his fingers stretch and flex, moving with restless little motions that tickle the bells at his wrists, “there was a little oopsie-daisy sometime after you clocked out.”

“Like…?”

“A break in,” he clarifies, clearing his throat. His eyes snap to front and center as his hands fly to reassuring you, “Nothing was actually stolen, and I’m told the employee who was assaulted is promised to make a full recovery–”

“Whoa, wait,” your hands raise to stop him, “back up. Somebody was assaulted?”

“Stabbed!” He says, going stiff in place when he realizes that doesn’t make the situation any better, “O-Only a little,” his hands wring together, fidgeting, the ring of his bells constant now, “and like I said, they’re already patched up and looking swell. The assailant, on the other hand–”

“What about Moon?”

Sun twitches, looking somewhat irked about being cut off twice in a row now, “I’m getting to that,” he barks, “if you would kindly let me finish.”

“Sorry, sorry,” you reluctantly back down, “please, continue.”

A deep sigh escapes him. “Moon discovered them soon after the actual incident took place. I’d go as far as saying he’s the whole reason your coworker made it out alive, seeing as they were able to escape before any more damage was done. But…” His voice peters off into silence.

“But…?”

He hesitates, shifting his weight from foot to foot. His hands hold each other for support, then flex. Curl, then flex. Again, and again, and again, until your expectant look pries his mouth open again. “He took a couple bad hits. Nothing they couldn’t fix, of course, and he’s right as rain as far as that’s concerned.”

“And the robber?” You ask, trying not to sound too impatient.

Sun shrugs, his eyes lowering back down to his shoes. “Moon took care of them,” he mumbles, “of course.”

“Of course,” you reply with a nod, “that’s his job, after all.” Reaching for Sun’s arm, you give it a comforting squeeze and hold your breath, only continuing when his gaze lifts from the floor, “So, what’s the problem?”

His shoulders dip as if he’s grieving, and all at once the fidgeting stops. “I don’t–” he takes in a mock breath and holds it, staring you down, then deflates with a defeated sign, “I don’t know!” He finally wails, “Something is wrong, I’m sure of it. I just can’t tell you what it is exactly.”

“Sun,” you reach for him again, but for once Sun pulls away - an action that makes you tense in place, “I’m sure he’s just tired after last night. Let him have his space and–”

“But that’s just it!” His voice is shrill as he interrupts you, “I’ve given him plenty of space, I don’t have a choice either way about it. He’s gone quiet,” and then, before you can argue, “headspace is quiet. He won’t talk to me. I–I haven’t heard his voice since last night.”

“Oh,” is all you manage at first. That changes things. “Well…what do you want me to do about it?”

“Come back tonight,” he asks - though it comes out more as a plea, “the lights go out in half an hour. You can stick around so you don’t get locked out, maybe get a snack, o-or talk with one of the Glamrocks, I’m sure they wouldn’t mind.” He looks nervously your way, the trademark smile momentarily crushed under the weight of his anxiety, “I know I’m asking for a lot,” he says, “but I just think…” and it returns, if only by the upturned edges, “if he won’t talk to me, maybe he’ll talk to you.”

Your lips press into a thin line as you think it over. If management found out you were hanging around after your shift it could come back to bite you, but on the other hand, if you didn’t do this, Sun may never trust you again. Saying nothing about your own concern for Moon.

He looks less like a child pleading for sweets, instead frowning in a way that is desperate, and deceptively human. Taking your hands in his own and squeezing them tight, his eyes searching yours for any semblance of pity, he whispers, “…Please.”

That alone is enough to convince you.

“Alright,” you relent after a breath, “I’ll see what I can do.”

- - -

It’s easy enough to slip past management. You let Freddy in on the situation and, though he’s reluctant (evidently knowing something you don’t) he eventually agrees to host you as stowaway in his room until closing hours. After that, it’s just a matter of busying yourself with brainless little tasks until you’re sure enough time has passed for Moon to be fully out and about.

Only, he isn’t. Checking your fazwatch at the half-hour mark reveals him to be missing in action, an odd occurrence for the normally punctual Moon who should have already been well on his way through the security patrols by now. You decide to cut him some slack, figuring that he was, again, only tired from yesterday’s situation.

That being said, he’s no where to be found at the end of the hour, either, and by then you’ve leaped past concern into full-blown panic. He’s not in the atrium, or the laundry room, or the many, many halls. You know he wouldn’t be caught dead in Parts and Services and don’t even bother checking. A quick glance in the Daycare - dark as normal - yields no better results.

Your search leaves only one place in mind.

It takes you no time at all to push your way back through the Daycare doors. Your flashlight cuts through the dark expanse without the usual relief of a nearby crimson glow or even the ring of a quiet bell. There is nothing to prove your theory correct and yet you proceed regardless, plenty stubborn enough to go off a hunch and a hunch alone.

Admittedly, his absence fills your gut with a worsened sense of dread. Normally he is all too eager to sneak up behind you and play boogeyman. How strange - and troubling, at that – to be left to your own devices. You shake the feeling from your shoulders and continue on.

Nearing the ballpit, a noise crosses your ears. Not a bell, or a snicker, or the usual weight of metal headed your way, but instead, a voice.

A song, to be specific.

So low that you strain to hear it, you pick up on the humming of a familiar lullaby, and you’re able to trace it back to the exact location you had suspected; the bedroom.

“Moon?” You call out to him, your voice carrying strangely in the still room. Silence answers you. Even the humming cuts short, every sound from above quickly falling into nothing at all. Your eyebrows pinch together. “I know you’re up there!” You try again, “will you come down for a minute? I want to talk.”

A minute passes, then two. Nothing occurs. No movement, no sound, and certainly no sign of him doing as asked. Your impatience gets the better of you.

Turning on your heel, you dully note the feeling of eyes on your back as you head out of the main Daycare area and into the theater, instead. It takes you less than a minute to locate the Captain Foxy’s Pirate Adventure poster, and once there you waste little time pushing through the secret entry behind it and down the hall, through the blue door.

Inside, the first thing you see is the state of the room. Not it’s usual haphazard mess but worse, somehow; toys aimlessly strewn, several torn apart and severed at the limbs, broken shards of glass from an unknown source, and most distressing of all, a collection of children’s drawing that had evidently been ripped from their home on the wall now lay shredded across the floor.

Moon, himself, sits with his back to you. He’s fiddling with something in his lap that you can’t make out from this distance, perfectly silent, and he looks fit to ignore you entirely. Out of spite, apparently. You know he heard you enter. You saw him double-down on the slouch clear as day.

There’s something else, too. Something different about him that you can’t quite place in the dark.

Warily, you step over each outcasted item as best you can, all the while squinting through the pitch, not daring to bring your flashlight anywhere in his direction. Only when you’re standing just behind where he sits do you properly make yourself known, clearing your throat.

“Moon?” Your voice remains soft, like you might scare him away, “Why didn’t you answer me when I called earlier?”

His motions still, shoulders going tight like a wind-up doll, “Why are you here?” He answers your question with one of his own - then, as though it’s only an afterthought, “Didn’t hear you.”

Resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you round him to face his front. “You and I both know that’s bullshit,” you crouch down to his level, “and as a matter of fact, I’m only here because you didn’t bother answering me–”

Directly in front of him, now, you can finally see the shine against his faceplate. The lack of a hat. Evidently, it’s what he’s busying his hands with. He pulls at the fabric with a dull and apathetic weight, bringing the end to a rise before allowing the bell to fall into his lap.

He waits a beat, as though allowing you the chance to finish your thought. When it appears you have nothing left to say, however, his gaze finally lifts to meet you. “Did Sun put you up to this?” He asks.

It takes everything in you not to habitually respond with a lie. Moon knows when you’re lying. You don’t know how, whether it’s programmed or just something he’s picked up on over the years, but he can always tell. Besides, you’re sure the answer is obvious either way.

“Yeah,” you admit with a nod, frowning when Moon has the gall to scoff, “he’s worried, you know.”

“He worries too much,” Moon replies.

You tuck your bottom lip between your teeth, “Well, what about me?”

“What about you?”

“What if I’m worried about you, too?”

Again, he returns nothing but silence. It’s hard to tell what goes on in that big, flat head of his, and you’d give an arm and a leg to find out, but for now you’re stuck attempting to translate the entirely blank expression on his face.

Today there’s more than that to go off of, if you listen close. A rumble like distant thunder in his throat, barely there, it brings every word into a foreign pitch. He leaves you little time to overthink it before deciding on an answer.

“You shouldn’t,” is what he comes up with.

This time, you do roll your eyes. “Yeah, well, I have a bad habit of caring about my friends. Doubt that’ll be wrung out of me anytime soon, so uh, get used to it.”

“We aren’t friends.”

Oh. That stings more than it should. It’s a bitter sort of feeling, acid pooling in your stomach and crawling up the sides, and for a moment you think it might even drive you into full-blown nausea, but you swallow it down. Stomp out what remains.

“I–”

“Not like that,” he interrupts, suddenly eager to correct himself, “I didn’t mean–” the hat goes taut between his fists, straining at the seams until he forces himself to relax, “I mean that we shouldn’t be friends.”

“Oh,” is all you manage.. It’s a poor excuse for a reply, and you know it, but there’s very few places for this conversation to go that won’t end in further heartbreak. “Why…Why not?”

You finally settle on the floor completely, crossed at the legs, prepared to continue anyway.

He won’t look at you. Instead, his eyes drift back to the hat in his hands. “It’s dangerous,” he mumbles, “I–” and you see him tense, again, the bell moving with a jittery ring, shaking in his hand. “I’m dangerous.”

It falls from his palm, then goes silent. The entire room, in fact, lapses into a jarring silence. If only for a minute.

“You’re not–”

“I am,” he corrects you before the words are even fully between your teeth, “last night–”

“Last night was a fluke,” you try to shrug, “you were only doing your job.”

“My job?” He’s shaking, and if you only had better light you might see the anger in his coiled joints, “My job is to patrol, to intervene.”

“And you did that–” you try to reason with him, “–had you not stepped in, my coworker might not have made it out of there. You did the right thing, Moon. The assailant–”

“I killed him.”

It shuts you up. Maybe not for good, but for the time being, it’s blunt enough to make you pause. His methods of security are no mystery to you, of course. It’s not a secret and never has been, but not once has he ever openly stated it. Certainly not with such vehement conviction, at that.

“I…” you hesitate, letting your eyes fall into your lap, “I know. But that changes nothing, Moon. You were put in a bad situation. Had the circumstances been different–”

“I’d have killed him anyway,” Moon speaks with an ease that sends chills down your spine. Like he’s discussing the weather, nothing more. Like it’s insured. A fate that’s already sealed. “The situation doesn’t matter,” he continues, “it never matters. There’s this– this feeling –and once it starts, it doesn’t stop. Not until I’m satisfied.”

The silence draws on for ages, his words filling the space between you and interrupted only by the occasional ring of the bell as he picks it up, lets it fall, picks it up, lets it fall, picks it up–

“I don’t care,” you swallow hard, forcing your chin up to look at him with a steeled resolve, “I know you, and I’m not scared of you, no matter how much you want me to be.”

“You’re stupid,” comes his warbled growl, “what if it’s not a robber next time. What if it’s you.”

“It won’t be.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because I–” Your hand lifts - so fast that he flinches - and it finds his chest. His heart. “Because I trust you, Moon. You won’t hurt me.”

The sensation of him trembling beneath your hand doesn’t go unnoticed. You aren’t sure whether it’s out of anger, or relief, or something else entirely. Not until he finds his voice, once more, and you finally place the odd sound in his throat.

“Please…”

It’s a shudder. A subtle heave of breath containing too much at once, an emotion and action so perfectly human and veiled behind the guttural robotics of his voice box that you nearly missed it.

The sound of someone holding back tears.

Slow and careful, your hand falls to rest on top of his own and you give it a gentle squeeze. “Maybe that makes me stupid,” your smile is firm, sincere, “but you can’t convince me of otherwise, and you never will, no matter how many times I need to reassure you. I’m not changing my mind any time soon.”

He’s quiet above all else. So quiet, in fact, not even the ring of his bell, that you worry you might have overwhelmed him. Or, worse still, that he continues to doubt you. That your convictions aren’t honest. If he can’t trust you, how can he possibly expect - or accept - that you trust him?

But the silence is broken with a string of laughter, faint and leaving as quick as it came. His throat clears some of its blues. “You’re going to get yourself hurt,” he sighs, something like gratitude in every word, “but it– it’s your funeral. I won’t stop you from trying.”

Your smile turns bright. “Good, because I’m going to keep trying, again, and again, and again, until you get the picture.” A laugh escapes your own throat, light with relief, “I won’t stop until you know how much I mean it.”

Finally, finally, the barest upturn of a smile. “I don’t doubt it,” says Moon, “you’re annoying like that.”

A roll of your eyes, lighthearted, and you practically bounce to your feet, “Come on, loser. Get that hat of yours back on so we can start your patrols, already. I’ll even join you.”

Only a little, his smile dims. The hat is tucked further into his palms. “I can’t,” he tells you, “I mean– I’d rather not.”

Your own smile follows, crumbling instantly. Something is still wrong. “Why not?” Your eyes catch on to his tension, following it down to his hands, “Is something up with your hat?”

The way he freezes instantly answers the question for you. A good thing, too, because he doesn’t make any move to reply, only tucking the fabric away even deeper out of sight, bundling it into his hands.

“Moon…” you reach – again, your hand finding his own – only here it stays, your thumb gently swiping over his wrist, then his fingers, and then it curls beneath so he’s forced to loosen his grip. “Let me see,” you plead with him, only a whisper, “…please?”

He relents.

It’s a reluctant defeat, one he tries to hide by immediately shoving his hands into his pockets once the hat is securely in yours.

There’s nothing immediately wrong with it. You turn the fabric over in your palms and listen to the bell ring, wondering what has him so bent out of shape as to not even bother putting it on. Everything appears normal - that is, from what little you can see in the dim crimson light his eyes provide.

Then you feel it. A broken seam, a gap of fabric that two of your fingers slip beneath easily. You lift it from the side to get a better look and confirm your suspicions.

A hole. It tears through his hat two inches wide and clear into the other side.

“How–”

“Got caught up in the knife fight,” he shrugs, acting as though it’s less world-ending than the crack in his voice would have you believe. A hole in his hat, his favorite hat, his only hat, and blood, red and bright, staining the edges of it.

You’re surprised, more than anything else, that he’s holding himself together as well as he is.

“Sun said they fixed you up after the fight,” you begin, “they didn’t patch it…?”

“Why bother?” Another shrug, this one notably heavier, “I don’t interact with the kids anymore.” He gives you a shaky, wry smile, “No reason to keep up appearances, right?”

Immediately, you find yourself shaking your head. No, no, you wouldn’t let this one go. “I’ll fix it, then,” you promise, “help me down to the Daycare. I’ll fix it right now.”

He looks taken aback. You aren’t sure why. For all the annoyance he claims you bring him, surely, he should have seen this coming. Maybe he does, because in the next moment he’s shaking his head with another dry laugh. “It’s too big of a tear, starlight,” he tells you, “jagged at the edges. The knife tore some pieces out.” He outstretches his hand, fingers gesturing for you to give it back. You don’t.

“I’ll find a way,” you tell him. Then, making yourself more firm this time, “Take me down to the Daycare. I am going to fix it.”

Again, he pauses, fixing you with a flat expression that you don’t bother trying to figure out. Finally, he answers you with a sigh. His hand falls back to his side. Then, with one final shrug, “Fine, I guess you’re welcome to try.”

The trip down from the balcony is the fastest of your life. You don’t fight his hand around your waist, or squirm away when he gives you that stupid, cheeky grin as you wait for the wire to be called so he can literally sweep you off your feet. The second they touch ground, again, you’re pushing out of his hold and making your way towards the front desk. You’re on a mission.

“Find me the sewing kit,” you order with a wave of your hand, “I have an idea.”

You’re quick to gather everything you need. A pair of scissors and a water bottle from the desk, and your backpack from beneath it. The bottle is uncapped and a small amount of its contents carefully poured over a section of your backpack. Then, dividing the scissors to use one blade as a knife, you ease away the adhesive with an icky ssshhhmmmmack.

Moon catches up with you a second later and hands over the kit. “What are you doing?”

“Shh.”

You bring the retrieved section over his hat, ensuring, first, that it will properly fit. Then you get to work; thread the needle, knot the end, and begin stitching away. As suspected, there’s still a portion of it left where fabric was lost in the scuttle.

Next, you bring in phase two. An iron-on patch – black and purple with a planet surrounded by stars – which was previously housed on your backpack next to a few others. Now it would find a home here.

“That’s–”

“Shh,” you hush him, your hand already hard at work. Thread, knot, stitch. The patch covers it perfectly.

At long last, you hold the completed work up for him to see. “What do you think?” You ask with a hopeful grin, “You said management didn’t care about keeping up appearances, so they should have no problems with some added flair, right?”

A beat of silence where he says nothing, only takes it into his hands, smoothing a thumb over the new texture with widened eyes.

Finally, he sighs. “It’s perfect,” he whispers, “I think–” and he looks up with that same warbling tone as before, “I think it’s perfect, starlight.”

You try not to look too proud of yourself. It’s a small victory, you think, but one you’re happy with all the same. Sure, you’re going to miss the patch, but you think it suits him better.

And anyway, you can see it as often as you want, can’t you?

“Now come on,” you yawn, jab an elbow against his side, and feel yourself relax when he returns your smile, “we’ve got patrols to do.”

#drabbles #okay look i KNOW I said i was gonna keep these under 2k #but this one got away from me #sue me #moondrop #moondrop fnaf #moon fnaf #moon x reader

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riddler-green · 1 year

Note

I fell in love with your writing omgg:0 so Edward finds out that the person he likes (with whom he is obsessed lmao) is a fan of riddler and even has a crush on him 9v9

Te observo.

Summary: Edward discovers that you are a follower of his alter ego.

A/n: hheeeeeeeey hi! how are you?? after a long pause I'm back! in Mexico it's semana santa holidays! sooo I finally have time to catch up with the requests! besides, yesterday I sprained my ankle but that gives me more time to write and I'll be better soon. (´ ε ` )♡

by the way i hope you like it! and thank you very much for the request! I think I got carried away so I'm sorry if it's not what you expected. (*^.^*)

warning: swearing, obsessive behavior, Fluff!

Words: 3,800

Edward played with one of his feathers, pressing the feather spring to relax from his growing anxiety. He knows that looking at you for a long time is strange but he can't stop doing it. From the first time he saw you, he was completely immobile with wonder, every day he delighted in seeing you. He thought you never knew of his existence, because despite being co-workers and practically working in similar jobs, he was too shy to even speak to you, so he assumed you never even glanced at him. In his mind, he had these innocent little fantasies that someday you would pay attention to him and he would gladly see you without guilt or looking like a freak. But he is a coward, a man who fears what he already knows will happen at some point.

That's why he doesn't try, he doesn't want to face that rejection that already hangs on his forehead, yet he still thinks of you, even in his dreams you appear as a sweet reminder of his memory. He sighs with love for the mere fact that you existed.

"Hey, I need this document by Monday" Zach interrupts his admiration with an authoritative voice, Edward coughs falsely to distract himself from the fact that he was watching you instead of working "yeah, um, of course" he replies to Zach and the man in the blue suit out of his sight without saying goodbye.

Edward contemplates the files in his hands, sheets after sheets of payrolls that in a couple of hours, he would solve all, back in his mind he wonders if you like numbers too, well, it's not like he could ask you, he arranged the files in alphabetical order and before he started working a scream stops him.

"It's official!" a voice Edward doesn't know speaks again, when he turns to see who it is he looks at a human rights employee pasting a sign on the bulletin board "It is officially forbidden to talk about The Riddler and The Batman!" The employee speaks loudly drawing the attention of the other employees, others ignore him but saw the sign, and others stared at him still processing the news.

Edward gasped, he didn't know whether to laugh or cry, did they just ban them from his office? He does not know how to take it, is he considered a danger to the company? His face does not reflect the emotion he keeps inside, Batman and he have taken relevance in the city, as new icons of justice, although the Riddler remains a sensitive issue for many.

"May I know the reason?" he flinched at the sound of your voice, he saw your figure approach the statement already taped to the board and you examined it completely, uh, that surprised Edward, as far as he remembers you were always a model employee, you don't generate problems, your sign in and out sheet is flawless (it's not like he's seen it) your documents are just as good, but seeing you now he worries, why are you angry?

Edward watches as you chat with the human resources employee, apparently not a pleasant chat, as you return to your seat with an angry look on your face. He can't take his eyes off your scowl until you turn up to type something on your computer.

Edward sighs, so many repressed things he has inside his being and unfortunately, it's not something he can get it out, the love he has for you is one of those things he can't undo (he doesn't want to), as for him, it feels like a small stain on his office.

⋆┈┈｡ﾟ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ❁ུ۪ ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ﾟ｡┈┈⋆┈┈｡ﾟ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ❁ུ۪ ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ﾟ｡┈┈⋆

"Damn KMTJ, don't they know they are doing them a favor?" you whisper to yourself angrily, abruptly typing the last report of the day, there was no need to forbid talking about a certain topic, you stopped typing for a moment.

Remember the first time you saw him, your idol, yes, that's right, your idol. If someone found out that you were part of that select radical group of Riddler's followers they would probably send you on an all-expense paid trip straight to Arkham, but do you care? No, honestly no, the admiration you have for the masked man is something genuine and devoted. In the past you only engaged with him, you only had ears to hear about events happening in the city and you couldn't agree more, his speeches moved you so much that you never missed any of his videos, and you even participated in some clandestine demonstrations with the significant question mark sign.

Until one day he unknowingly broke your heart.

You stared at the monitor screen as you remembered the precise moment when your heart broke in two, those seconds when The Riddler declared in one of his lives, that he fell in love.

You cried that day and the day after that, and the day after that, your life turned into a mess for the simple fact that you Riddler already set your eyes on someone else. In your darkest thoughts, you wanted that person to reject him or disappear from his life, even though you wouldn't stand a chance anyway.

But then came another problem named Edward Nashton.

The first thing you saw in him was his sad eyes covered by the lenses of his glasses, such melancholic eyes that you only wanted to give him affection and love. But then you notice that glow in his person, a shy and helpful glow that at all costs wants to help others, a caring soul that does his job excellently and brilliantly since then Edward flits through your mind as a reassurer of the suffering that the Riddler left you.

But still, you didn't dare to talk to him, when you watched him walk in the door in the mornings you shrank back in cowardice, you didn't want to suffer another brutal rejection from someone else, oh please Edward must already have a bunch of suitors, you crudely think starting to work again to distract yourself from your frustrating love life.

⋆┈┈｡ﾟ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ❁ུ۪ ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ﾟ｡┈┈⋆┈┈｡ﾟ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ❁ུ۪ ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ﾟ｡┈┈⋆

One day, Edward received a message from his computer specially made for his other job, a homemade laptop with other computer parts, and a private message from his forum as it happened every day.

>> Hi! This, um, Mr.Riddler I admire your mission and your vision of what you want for this city, I know you probably don't know me but I just want to say that I want to be a part of your mission toward a safer Gotham for the future.

Edward's first impression from you is a, mmhm, another message from a random supportive follower, he noticed another message in the inbox.

>> Extraclassified Documents.zip

>> I got this information for you, I don't doubt you are a great hacker to find this information on your own, but um, I just want to help you.

>>I swear, this is official information.

>>From KMTJ.

What?

Edward was puzzled when he read the final message. Maybe it was his imagination playing a joke on him, maybe he was too tired from the hours he hasn't slept but he was sure he read it right.

>>From KMTJ.

Fuck, is that what he thinks it is? He opens the document and it is what the file name says, it's not a virus as he expected, it's case files that have to do with the renovation, signed by Mr. stone, his fucking boss.

Edward turns away from the screen extremely surprised and puts his hands to his head touching his hair, a mole, there's a mole in his company and damn it, he's helping him.

He tries to figure out who it could be from his colleagues, these files are only possessed by the accountants in his section, which is almost a dozen people including you. He thinks of random names and shakes his head, no one in his office has shown empathy for his alter ego, so, it probably must have been another hacker who wants to help him.

He scratches his neck nervously, this puts him on edge because when he looks at the documents his follower gave him he notices the signatures of all his classmates, including his and yours.

Ha, ironically he thinks how nice your signature and his would look on a marriage certificate.

He leans back in the seat re-reading the documents, should he take this as a threat to his identity? No, he protects all his data like gold, this is probably a coincidence. But then an uncomfortable feeling arises in him, you are also included in these files, and your identity could be at risk.

He types heavily on his computer trying to find out the data of the follower who gave him all this, but he found nothing, a fake VPN, fake data, his follower is smart, mmm, not bad.

How did you get this?

His follower responded at that instant.

>> I...

>>I work there.

Holy cow, his head explodes with anxiety, but little by little he becomes proud of the influence his words have on others, he is not as alone as he expected.

>>? who are you?

He didn't think when he wrote that, silly Edward, do you think he will answer you, obviously his follower didn't answer.

Edward started printing the newly discovered files while contemplating the board above him, so many things were put on that board it was hard to concentrate on one, he saw the pictures of the corrupt he killed and the next ones on his list, he sees the pictures of Batman and he also sees your pictures, he put them in his work center to calm down when he had seizures.

Oh, he doubts you'll notice him someday, but dreaming is free.

⋆┈┈｡ﾟ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ❁ུ۪ ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ﾟ｡┈┈⋆┈┈｡ﾟ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ❁ུ۪ ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ﾟ｡┈┈⋆

Mr. Stone kept a straight face stroking his beard and looking at the leaves in front of him, Zach, Edward, and you waited patiently for him to say his next orders, Edward started sweating from nerves and shyness, as he stood next to you the whole moment he was almost sure he could smell you and god, you smell so good.

"The Riddler has been a kick in the ass for this company" stated Mr.Stone rudely turning his eyes away from the sheets to focus on the three standing behind his large desk "You are the best accountants we have in the section, tell me how the Riddler could have so much information on the renovation?" Mr. Stone asked the air and Edward swore he was already shaking, easily excused but all this overwhelmed him, the hard look of his boss, you being so close to him, he can't stand it.

"Thank you for your confidence sir, but believe me I have no idea how that happened" Zach opines smoothing his blue suit, and Mr.Stone does not respond.

"The Riddler is smart sir" you started to speak and Edward turned around surprised by what you said "I fully understand that you think there is a mole in our company, but most likely the mole has infiltrated our system" you explain formally and Edward gawks at what you say You think The Riddler is smart? That strokes his ego.

Mr. Stone takes a moment to respond, he sighs tiredly leaning back in his chair "Yeah that's the same thing I thought, I just wanted to know what you guys think" Mr.stone started to speak again but Edward had already disconnected from reality by then, you flattered him, well, you flattered the Riddler and that makes his cheeks heat up.

Edward knows he's getting closer and closer to the mole, it's not Zach, he barely knows it's a prime number, however you...

Hahahaha, no.

You came out of your thoughts when you heard Mr. stone say goodbye to the three of you, Zach came out of the office first with phone in hand to call someone as soon as he left, the second to leave was you, with your head held high and making Edward admire you closely, you turned to see him when he closed the door of Mr. stone's office.

"Hey, Edward, right?" you raise your hand in greeting and he quickly accepts "um, yeah, it's me" he clarifies nervously but was glad he didn't look stupid when you spoke to him.

"Do you have any idea who it could be? You know..." you start walking and Edward follows your step listening carefully to what you are going to say "the mole?" you finish your question going down step by step towards the first floor, the glasses man takes his moment to answer "I don't know who it is" he finds it very intriguing as with Mr. Stone you said it was probably someone else in the company but now you ask him this and it only confuses him more.

"Me neither but" you chuckle, maybe lying to your office crush is harder than your boss, you stop looking at Edward, "I think it's a one-time thing" you assure returning to your seat before waving goodbye to him "See ya, Eddie."

He doesn't say anything, but it's impossible not to hear how his heart beats, he was probably having a heart attack or he gets nervous next to you, but hey! You don't think he's a freak.

That's fine with him.

⋆┈┈｡ﾟ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ❁ུ۪ ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ﾟ｡┈┈⋆┈┈｡ﾟ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ❁ུ۪ ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ﾟ｡┈┈⋆

Edward doubted what he is doing right now, he knows it is wrong, and he knows that anyone could come and catch him looking at the file history in his own office. But really, his curiosity gnaws at him, that feeling that won't let him sleep, there is a follower near him but he doesn't know him nor he follower him, if only he could know, who is helping him?

With the lamp on his phone, he lit up the file history sheet, on that sheet he saw all the company's files, who requests them, what documents were requested, and when they are requested in the pile of file cabinets that are used to store information for generations, he managed to find with a little effort, he saw the last person who entered and left the file room.

It was you.

What?

He almost dropped the phone in shock, he laughed with hesitation, this couldn't happen, you, the mole?

No, this cannot be true.

He read your name again and even saw your signature. You came to that place the same day the information was sent to him. He took a picture of the sheet and quickly started saving evidence that he was there.

It has a lot to think about.

⋆┈┈｡ﾟ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ❁ུ۪ ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ﾟ｡┈┈⋆┈┈｡ﾟ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ❁ུ۪ ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ﾟ｡┈┈⋆

Edward slammed his door shut, his raincoat barely left him dry as his hair got wet from the rain, he didn't mind the wet feeling on his body, living in Gotham has gotten him used to rainwater not bothering him, he must admit he is in a state of euphoria still, all the way from KMTJ he kept stopping at what he discovered, he kept repeating himself and it didn't tire him, this was better than winning the lottery in his opinion. He could easily shout from the rooftops that he knows he exists and not only that, you also support The Riddler. He had no idea how to continue, yes, you want him, but do you want Edward Nasthon, the other half of him?

It frustrates him, it frustrates him too much when he doesn't know the missing piece of his mental puzzle, in this instance what do you think of him. should he move forward as Edward? should he move forward as The Riddler? He doesn't know what to decide.

He could go on for hours thinking about those little details so he won't end up ruining anything, he took off his blue raincoat and placed it on his chair, he needs to work, someday he will come up with an answer but he needs to get organized.

You are one of his followers, you, the person he admires from afar every day and feels fulfilled when you smile, you understand it too, you are smarter than many think.

He wrote down everything he had in mind on a whiteboard, brainstorming helps him decide on something.

⋆┈┈｡ﾟ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ❁ུ۪ ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ﾟ｡┈┈⋆┈┈｡ﾟ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ❁ུ۪ ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ﾟ｡┈┈⋆

You yawned as you took a seat in your work cubicle, it was the first hour of the day and you wanted to go home, to re-watch the recent video of the Riddler, but you need to work, those donations you make are not free.

but before you could start working a card appeared in your files, a green card, you grabbed the card and picked it out, and hid it in your lap to read the contents.

I know who you are, I know you helped me, find me and you will know who I am.

My goodness gracious, it's a miracle you didn't feel a heart attack from whatever is going on, there is no doubt this letter is from your Riddler, you hold the urge to scream from the rooftops that he will deem you worthy of his attention, he wants you to meet him!!!!

What has hands, but can't clap?

You read the riddle in the letter, written in the same alphabet he invented, and left messages to his followers with that same code.

On the other hand, Edward spies on you from his cubicle covering his smile with his clasped hands, he didn't know how to tell you that he knew, so he planned to let you know with riddles, his specialty. watch you get up from your seat to look for the object of the riddle.

Let the treasure hunt begin!

⋆┈┈｡ﾟ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ❁ུ۪ ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ﾟ｡┈┈⋆┈┈｡ﾟ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ❁ུ۪ ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ﾟ｡┈┈⋆

There were many clocks in the office, and you inspect them all, from the receptionist's clock to the desk clock your cubicle neighbor has, until you find a new clue on the second-floor clock, the one outside Mr. Stone's entrance. you looked behind the clock and found a note.

What kind of mail can a mouse send?

You laughed at the response. You grabbed the note and ran back to your desk, went to your work email, and found a new message from an unknown email address.

I am close to you

but I know you don't know the truth

I am among your coworkers

and I know you can solve my clue

you look around for anyone looking at you, but everyone seems absorbed in whatever it is they're working on, you go back to focusing on the message.

What can you catch, but not throw?

this riddle is a little hard for you to figure out, what it has to do with the office, until the light bulb in your head goes on, from afar Edward sees you approaching the cubicle of the coworker who missed today because he has a cold.

you are happy to see another note under your co-worker's keyboard, you take the note and go back to your desk, you thought that this search will be more difficult or more dramatic, but you are having a lot of fun, even though you may be in a state of danger.

last riddle, but I haven't finished

look for me where the cleaning is located, even if it's narrow I keep a lot of things.

You raise an eyebrow - the cleaning room? Is that what he means? Without a doubt the answer, you quietly make your way to the elevator, looking for the cleaning room.

Edward gets up from his seat and heads for the elevator as well, waiting until you've already left to look for you.

⋆┈┈｡ﾟ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ❁ུ۪ ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ﾟ｡┈┈⋆┈┈｡ﾟ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ❁ུ۪ ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ﾟ｡┈┈⋆

Edward clenched his hands looking at the door of the cleaning room, he was almost a minute daring to come in to see you, but he is still anxious, too nervous to even be surprised, you love the riddler, but will you be disappointed if he were him? would you tell on him and leave him alone? would you be ashamed?

In his mind, he convinces himself that you are not like that, that you will love him as he is.

but he doubts it.

On the other side of the door you are in complete darkness, standing in the middle of brooms and mops, with your nerves on edge you wait patiently for the person who sent you all those riddles, you smile remembering all the adventures you had to do to get here, you look for the light switch but with so much darkness you can't find it.

They open the door and you are instantly startled, you look at the person who opened the door, the light from outside made Edward look like an angel, someone so beautiful that you were fascinated to behold him.

"Edward?" you ask confused but at the same time ecstatic, he gives you a nervous smile entering the small room and turning on the light switch. the room gave a yellowish glow and the light from the bulb is not that strong, but the warmth in the place made you more nervous.

Edward stood at the other end of the room, across from you, as the room is small there is little space that separates you "umm... surprise!" Edward gives an unconvincing laugh, his already hot cheeks coy him, his cowardice starts to work and he doesn't know what to say.

"you are?..." you don't finish your question, you slowly approach the bespectacled man, Edward starts sweating, feeling cornered he looks at the door he came through but you are so close to him that he can see the details of your face "It's you right?" you want to clarify one last time, he nods his head slowly and looking at you appreciatively.

you shout in joy, and in a fit of euphoria, you hug Edward "oh! it's you! it's you!" you repeat and move closer to him with the hug, the brown-haired man receives the hug in disbelief.

"It's me!" he smiles accepting your affection, clinging in your arms to feel your presence and soothe him, but before he can get used to it you pull away from him to look him in the eyes "you did all that?" he didn't know what you meant but he agrees with you anyway "yes, I did".

"Oh, Edward!" you close your eyes hugging yourself again "I'm such a fool!" you exclaim with annoyance.

"Why do you say that?" he asks you surprised, for the first time he is so close to someone he is so comfortable in your arms. you laugh softly hugging him "there is a lot I have to tell you" you murmur to him, this was like winning the lottery, you dreamed of razing the riddler to death and then you started dreaming about Edward, but now you are with both of them, you feel that gratification of life.

"Okay" speaks Edward happily, the two continue to function, it doesn't matter that they are both in the small cleaning room, you forget everything else when you are with Edward, this situation feels so intimate and sweet that you just want to hug Edward.

It was worth the treasure hunt.

Edward closes his eyes to calm down and just focus on your touch, the insecurities that plagued him gone.

Thank you very much for reading! And sorry for the mistakes! *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧.

#the riddler x reader #riddler x reader #dano riddler x reader #edward nashton x reader #paul dano x reader #request largo

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sea-owl · 11 months

Text

I request a governess polin au, hell we can add kathony too.

So let's say that in this au, Kate never went to London and Penelope never had London debut. To help with the family finances Kate set out to become a nurse/governess (I am aware they are two different positions, but just roll with me.) After discovering Lord Featheringtons debts Portia only had enough money to debut one more daughter. After debating she decided to place her bets on Felicity. Neither ever met the Bridgertons.

Somehow Penelope ended up as a sort of apprentice/partner to Kate and the two found a good job within the house of the Duke and Duchess of Hastings. With two of them they are able to take care of the children, Auggie, and Amelia, when they are younger and later teach them as well as any other children the Duke and Duchess may have.

The two get along well with their employers and they have each other so the loneliness that usually comes with their kind of position isn't as bad.

Then comes 1816 aka the year without summer. Things were wet and cold, some of the ton had decided to forgo that season and stay in their country homes. One of those families was the Bassets, who decided to invite the family to Clyvedon for the rest of the season, with possibly taking some time to go to Aubrey Hall.

Of course Kate and Penelope are also at Clyvedon, helping take care of the young lord and ladies.

"Oh Kate, Penelope," Daphne greeted as she walked into the nursery. "You two can take a break for a little while. Just bring the children down to the drawing room, my family will be here soon and I'm sure they'll want to see the babies."

"Yes your grace," Kate and Penelope bowed.

"Thank you-," Daphne cut herself off with a yawn. "Oh forgive me on that."

"It is alright your grace," Kate said.

Daphne fought another yawn as she walked out of the nursery.

Kate and Penelope looked at each other before letting out soft giggles.

"I suppose we'll have another little one soon enough," Kate said as she held onto Auggie's leading strings in one hand and held Belinda in another.

"Good for us, it keeps us employed longer," Penelope joked. She gently bounces Caroline, while her other hand holds Amelia's leading strings. "Looks like you won't be the baby for long young miss."

Kate grinned. "That it does."

The two lead the children down to the family drawing room where Simon was waiting. After that they were temporarily free for probably most of the afternoon if this was like the other visits from the duchess' family. Not that Kate and Penelope haven't really had any more than brief glimpses at the infamous Bridgertons.

After that Kate went to take a walk while Penelope went down to the kitchen for some leftovers cook left since she missed breakfast.

Enter Anthony and Colin.

Anthony had ridden separate from his family as he had to make a stop on the way for business. Unfortunately this also meant that Anthony had gotten caught in the rain on his way. Colin had gotten back just in time for them to leave and had not yet had a chance to change out of his traveling clothes nor a chance to really eat anything. Suffice to say they did not really look like sons of a high bred family.

Kate just happened to be passing by when Anthony rode up to Clyvedon.

Kate had to stop herself from raising an eyebrow at the soaked man who was foolish to ride out into the rain. If she had to guess he may have been one of the tenets. Just as they always did during the first day of guest arriving, the duke and duchess gave strict orders that they are not to be disturbed.

"Excuse me," the man said. "You could you direct me to where Simon and Daphne are?"

Kate was taken aback. She has never heard of a tenet being so informal. "I'm sorry sir, but their graces are not seeing to any business today. The duchess' family had arrived today."

The tenet looked annoyed. "I assure you they are expecting me."

"Sir," Kare sighed, then yelled when he pushed past her. "Sir!"

That's when Kate heard the bell designated for the nurses and governesses. Well fine, she'll just let her employers handle the tenet.

Meanwhile Colin had sneaked down to the kitchen. He was a growing boy after all, and he hadn't eaten all day.

He was surprised to see a cute red down there happily eating an eclair.

"Is there anymore?" Colin asked her.

Penelope jumped, just barely catching the custard that fell. Turning towards Colin she did in fact raise an eyebrow. She has not seen this man before. Penelope could place almost all the servants at Clyvedon by face and she has seen this one. Plus his clothing does not look like anything any of the servants would be wearing. Nor is he looking at her food like anyone else she has met before.

"I'm sorry sir, but this was the only one Cook had set aside. The rest are being served to her grace's family," Penelope said.

The man's eyes lit up at the mere mention of more food. "Really? Oh must show me where they are!"

What was this man? Some kind of interloper? Penelope would rather not show him where the duke and duchess are, but blast. It looks like she might not have a choice. That was the bell to summon her and Kate. Well hopefully if he does follow the duke will take care of it.

Kate and Penelope met at the entrance of the drawing room both of them looking at their partner with a questioning look at the strange man following.

Before Kate or Penelope could stop them the tenet and the interloper both walk into the drawing room.

"Anthony!"

"Colin!"

Oh fuck, Kate and Penelope knew those names. Those were the names of the duchess' brothers, the Viscount Bridgerton and the third Bridgerton. And now among the rest of their siblings Kate and Penelope could see the resemblance.

#anthony and colin: pretty lady😍😍#daphne: QUIT TRYING TO SEDUCE MY STAFF #so in general a governess was a daughter to a middle or upper class family that generally fell on hard times #it was not an enviable position since they were basically outcasts among the staff #generally born too high and too educated for the rest of the staff but also not on equal level to their employers #the one they more than likely worked the most with was the nanny since they both were responsible for the raising and education of the kids #I would've done the saphne kids older but i thought 1816 would fit better due to how cold it was that year and indoor bound others would be #bridgerton #kathony #polin #governess au #kate sharma #kate sheffield #penelope featherington #anthony bridgeton #colin brigerton

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greypetrel · 2 months

Note

1, 7, 13, and 24 for the fandom asks!

Hi Mo! Quicker than a lightning!

Tis the prompt list

1. List 3 positive things about your current fandom(s)

I know this could all depend on the small bubble I created around me, in the years I grew at least a bit proficient in curating my experience online but... I am surprised and amazed at how active and welcoming this fandom is. And how adult. Speaking of Dragon Age. With my utmost surprise, the fandom is still active and ready to engage after all these years. People are active and producing content, and welcoming and kind enough to comment and compliment. I am not the kind of person that randomly befriends others... But the environment pushed me to produce more and to get in contact with more people, fangirl in tags with less fear of being judged. With more adult people that knew how to disagree in a productive way (on fiction of course, we're not talking of human rights). I am happy to say I made some friends and changed my minds over some characters and things my in-game experiences made me overlook, and without being shamed for thinking otherwise ONCE. it still amazes me. (and it all happened in a very dark year, so if you're here reading: my deepest thank you, really <3)

7. Your favorite tropes to read/write/draw

Bisexual Cullen needs to be first, of course. Many of you are here for those comics. Solas yes could be a villain, but I prefer to think he's a grumpy old man who has absolutely NO idea of how to people, and is just acting out of pure, unadultered panic. Sera is treated WAY better by fandom than by the game, sorry not sorry. I recently discovered that the scout that interrupts the first romance cutscene with Cullen is NOT called Jim in canon and my brains refuse to entertain the idea. Fenris and Merrill being friends. Dad-Bod Cullen.

It all depends on how people build things up.

13. your favorite type of fandom event (gift exchange, ship week, secret santa, prompt meme, etc)

I'm big on weekly events with prompt lists! And I do like gifts exchanges quite a lot with mutuals, without much obligations on both parts. :)

24. how has fandom positively impacted your life?

As above, I entered the fandom in a bad moment of my life, with little time. My original works tend to be heavy on research, and I had little time for that (and I was already in crisis with one). So, I restored to fanart to relax.

Fandom has brought me back to see art as a hobby and something I do for pleasure and not as a job. It had brought me back to write prose, made me meet many lovely people I am so happy to chat with! Which in the end brought me to experiment more on art, learn something new...

It has come in the perfect moment, and I'm happy to say I'm now, thanks to fandom, working on a new original project that doesn't stress me out as much. It's still soon to say something and I have nothing to show but... Eh. :)

It carried me through a difficult year and gave me some joy and some friends, for which I'm extremely grateful for. <3

#love your fandom ask #petrel replies #too sappy? Oh well

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yellowsunflowerheart · 2 years

Note

Prompt idea:

IronStrange no!powers AU wherein Stephen goes into education after his accident, adopts America, and realizes that he has a passion for working with kids, so he takes a job teaching biology and chemistry at a private academy for gifted children in K-12 in upstate New York. It isn't long before he becomes the PTA liason for the school, and immediately he's proven to be great at his job.

Meanwhile, Tony Stark has been divorced for a few years now, but his family has only grown with the adoption of Peter and Harley. After discovering that the boys have been struggling with a bullying problem, Tony decides to move all three of his kids to this academy Pepper and May had told him about, and buys a house in the area. All three of his kids thrive there, and Peter and Harley won't shut up about their new science teacher, so when they come home with a flyer from him asking parents to volunteer for the annual autumn carnival, Tony finds himself attending a PTA info meeting and immediately becomes smitten with the alluring Doctor Strange. Pretty soon, Tony finds himself volunteering for every PTA event just to spend a little more time with Stephen, completely oblivious to the fact that his growing crush isn't unrequited. Bonus points if America is fast friends with Peter and Harley, and Morgan adores Stephen too. Additional bonus points if Stephen is just as oblivious as Tony- gotta love that pining, lol.

Sorry if that's too much detail for a prompt, I just love your style so much and I think you could really do something like this justice

Can you hear me singing?! I really love this prompt, thank you so much for sending it!!

It’s gonna take me a while unfortunately, as I’m currently working full time and writing some other fics, so I wrote this whole thing for the meantime (I’m thinking the actual fic is going to have to be chaptered to get the full effect, I’m getting a million ideas already for this one).

This prompt kind of ties in with this idea I’ve been wanting to write about Stephen actually delivering America, and that’s how they meet and he actually meets and adopts her through the connection there.

The idea has been sitting in my list for a while, because I’ve never had anything to follow up with, but I think it would be cool to add in this fic (because I love Doctor Dad and backstories, I’m sorry).

Maybe America’s Mum’s have an accident on the way to the hospital, and Stephen has to emergency deliver her because he’s the only Doctor available at the time.

Maybe her Mum’s both passed away then, and she’s an orphan baby now

Or maybe they’re all okay, but another accident years down the track claims their lives, and Stephen finds out she’s an orphan

Or he meets her again in the hospital because she goes looking for the doctor who delivered her while she’s staying there recovering herself from the accident. Even better if this is in the same timeline as Stephen’s accident, and they’re both patients and they build a connection during the long hours of having no where else to go.

He wasn’t really looking to be a Dad, but something deep inside of him is really drawing him to her. He can’t stand to let her fade into the unknown, so he puts his hand up for carer, and later he makes the adoption official.

Let’s headcanon she’s really smart, but because of her dislexia, it’s hard for her to put her thoughts on paper. So Stephen tutors her and they have these brainstorming nights where they just talk science all night long, and he realises he likes this, teaching kids, they’re so optimistic and artistic and anything is possible to them.

He lost that optimism spark a long time ago, but she’s reigniting it again.

So he starts looking for teaching jobs, thinks of maybe starting his own after school club or something, when an old college professor of his, who finished out his last working years at a gifted school, retires and actually recommends Stephen. He’s heard about Stephen’s accident and thinks this’ll be good for him.

It has to be a sign, that the job practically found Stephen, and it’s so close to home they could walk, and America gets a free education and all the resources she wants- whatever career she decides to pursue.

So he accepts the job. Has five crisis’, almost a breakdown before he starts, but America drags him in the school gates their first morning. And he’s worried, that he’ll hate these kids, or they’ll hate him, and they’ll be annoying and disinterested, disrespectful, or ask a million questions about his hands.

But they hit him rapid fire with questions from the very first bell, and when they realise Stephen really knows his stuff, they’re actually super excited to be in his class.

This won’t be a year of boring lectures from a textbook, Stephen is interesting, and not afraid of gore or messiness. His classes are interesting and real, and it hits Stephen one day, that these kids are wanting to grow up and be doctors and research scientists because of him.

He may not be the king of an operating theatre anymore, but being the king of a classroom of young minds, where he’s making hundreds of other masters of their craft is… wow, this is so much more important than anything else he’s ever been and he loves it.

Meanwhile, Tony has primary custody of his three kids. He’s stepped back a little from work and the limelight (leaving Pep to be CEO of Stark Industries) and he’s really just enjoying being a Dad. These kids are healing traumas he didn’t even knew he had. He still can’t believe he’s kind of good at it.

Pepper and May are still involved in the kids lives, they’ve all got their routines and their family dynamic works seamlessly. They’re both thriving in their careers, and Tony is equally happy for them.

He isn’t at all prepared for the day he’s phoned to the principals office, and Peter and Harley are both pouting and Harley has an actual black eye, and for a second, Tony questions his humanity, because he’s going to kill whoever did that to Harley.

He fusses over the boys until one of the school officials comes along and invites them into the office. Neither of the kids would tell him anything, they’ve never been so shut down with him before, practically sticking to one another silently and refusing to tell him anything.

It all makes sense when he’s told the boys have been the targets of bullying at the school. It literally shatters his heart, and he doesn’t understand why they never told him, until it’s revealed half of the awful things said to them are mockeries surrounding their relationship with Tony.

“I bet you don’t even know Tony Stark” “He’s just using you for good PR because you’re so pathetic” “He only adopted you to look good” “Tony must be ashamed that you’re his sons” “I hope Tony comes to his senses and drops you back on the doorstep you came from.”

Tony un-enrols them on the spot, shouts some choice words to the heads of the school who have allowed this to go on to the point where it became physical, and takes the boys home and cuddles them for two days straight, heartbreakingly icing Harley’s black eye.

Late at night, Pepper and May have heard all about it, while the boys are sleeping. Tony’s wanting names- the kids names, family names, Tony wants to take down anyone and everyone associated with whoever has been picking on his kids, but the women talk Tony out of becoming a bully himself, pushing him into devoting his energy to the kids and giving them a fresh start.

When Pepper is dropping Morgan back off at the end of the weekend, she and Tony discuss the situation, and Pepper tells him about a school for the extraordinarily gifted, like their three children.

She’s heard good things, and she’ll look into it for him. She’s not really happy with Morgan’s school either, and Tony agrees, and it might be easier if all three kids went to the same school.

A week later, Tony is ushering three nervous faces in the gates, holding all three hands. He’s keeping it together- business cold, hoping if he’s calm, it’ll calm the kids. He spends the day stress pacing and calling the school to check that there hasn’t been any incidents.

His said his goodbyes in the morning to three quiet, anxious children, and is bombarded at the gates that afternoon by three smiling, laughing, shouting kids, all talking over each other to tell him about their day.

Their hair is in shambles, they’re literally buzzing. Meanwhile Tony’s been on the verge of vomiting all day with anxiety.

A couple weeks go by, and the hype stays. Tony feels good about making the decision to enrol them there, so good that he’s happy to pack up their life and move closer to the school. Out of their apartment and into a home. It’s a little further away from Pep and May, but they’re happy with the move, too.

Every afternoon the kids brag for hours about school, and Tony hasn’t missed that Doctor Strange is the favourite teacher by far as the boys are concerned. They love his science lessons, love his teaching, his experiments, his guidance. Also, his homework is actually cool, even Tony can admit that, so he gets bonus points.

A few months go by, and Tony is actually hoping parent teacher meetings come up soon, because he so wants to meet this Doctor Strange, who is good as God to the boys. Tony’s even considered reaching out and making one, under a false pretence that he wants to check the boys are warming well to their new school.

So when the boys come home one day, a couple months later, with a flyer from the one Doctor Strange about the upcoming PTA meeting, Tony see’s it as the perfect opportunity to meet the man. They’re also seeking donations for the autumn carnival, and Tony is sure he can sort something out with Pep, so that he has an excuse to speak to the man one on one.

Peter and Harley are insisting he should go, he’s gonna love Doctor Strange, and honestly, Tony’s kind of got a weird little crush? on the man. Even though they’ve never met, the boys have talked so much about him Tony honestly feels like he knows him.

So, he puts on some nice dress pants and a button up and more casual jacket, and goes to his first ever PTA meeting.

He phones May in the car park, kind of freaking out, and she talks him into taking the last steps into the building.

Tony has loved being a Dad, and he’s done all this school stuff before, but suddenly, he’s really spooked at the idea of attending an actual PTA meeting. Suddenly he’s feeling totally inadequate being there.

He’s glued himself to the drinks table at the entrance, and Tony Stark has never, ever been shy, but he feels like he doesn’t really belong there.

Meanwhile, Doctor Strange has noticed a new face at the meeting, and makes his way over to welcome him. He wasn’t expecting Tony Stark, but he’s glad at least one of his students parents read the flyer and actually turned up.

They talk, and Stephen calms him down while Tony is very steadily growing heart eyes.

Stephen is so authoritative, and well spoken, and intelligent, and actually Peter and Harley don’t brag enough, this man is incredible. He’s so thorough and clear running the meeting, he’s organised and has such great ideas.

Tony’s afraid to stand up out of his seat afterwards, he’s fairly certain he might be more than a little turned on.

So he says his goodbyes and goes home to 1) research more about this Doctor Strange, and 2) find something good to donate/contribute to this carnival so he has an excuse to talk to the man again.

They meet casually here and there, talk politely, and Tony finds any and every excuse for them to bump into each other again as soon as possible. It might as well be Christmas the day Tony finds out Harley’s new best friend America is Stephen’s daughter!!!!

She’s got an infinite invitation to the Stark house, so long as her Dad drops her off and picks her up so Tony can see him.

Tony gets more and more involved in the PTA, just to be close to Stephen, and they get friendlier and friendlier, and Tony’s crush is bigger than Jupiter now, and all the kids are teasing him about it, but who could blame him?

Stephen is perfect, and such a good Dad, and god Tony just wants the man in his house for the rest of their lives.

Maybe they have a lot of almosts.

Getting stuck together at he top of a ferris wheel at the carnival, but they never quite kiss.

They go tea tasting together, and Tony could fucking spit it back in his mug, but he swallows every sample for Stephen.

They decorate the hall for prom, and chaperone and they almost kiss again under the lights like a teenage dream. But they don’t.

Tony’s so fucking desperate he might just steal a kiss.

Maybe on the school camping trip they go on, or at the competition where Harley and America win first prize for their invention. Maybe while they’re cooking for charity work, or when Tony invites Stephen to the tower and lets him poke around at their research.

In the end, it’s simple. It late at night, and goodbyes are too hard when they’re this tired.

Tony kisses Stephen, and later, when his head is clear, he can’t believe that Stephen actually kissed him back. He literally goes to bed smiling that night.

It’s Stephen who suggests their first date, and everything falls into place from there.

Eventually, America and Stephen pack up their apartment and move into the Stark’s house, and they do bonfires, and light marshmallows. Friday nights are for movie marathons, and Saturdays are usually spent brainstorming world changing devices and medicines.

They’re happy, and in love, and a family.

Tony and Stephen both adopt all children, and Stephen gets to know Pepper and May, and they all go together to the kids big functions, and share tissues and embarrass them all every time.

And even well past the older kids graduation, Tony is a familiar face around school.

The husband of everyone’s favourite Doctor Strange, always at his husbands side, practically a trophy-spouse, making sure everything is in order and his husband is happy and successful in his endeavours.

Everyone knows them, everyone loves them. They’re the it couple, even though they’re both in their fifties now.

They visit the kids at college all the time, and vacation most of the rest of their spare time.

They’re happy, and eventually they downsize to a small cottage and live a simple life together in one another’s company, far from everything that was difficult in their earlier lives.

They watch the kids take over Tony’s company and do great things, and they feel so incredibly lucky this is their lives. It’s been perfect.

#ironstrange #supreme family #ultimate supreme family #Doctor Dad #Iron Dad #Stephen Strange #Tony Stark #ask #marvel #Stephen & Tony

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